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Saturday, July 18th, 2009
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At this point I've pretty much given you all the advice I have as far as getwithery, and if you're still reading at this point hoping for one last shot at love, I'm gonna give you the Z Plan of romance, and it's important that you only use this as the last possible option after all other options have failed, because it's the scorched earth policy of wooery:
- Get dressed up like Prince circa Dirty Mind, but DO NOT sing a Prince song.
- Instead, get a copy of the extended disco mix of the Rolling Stone's "Emotional Rescue" and a boombox.
- Go to where your future humperer works. You need to do this in public if it's gonna work.
- Scream at the top of your lungs "I WILL MAKE YOU LOVE ME!" and hit play on the boombox. Make sure to exactly imitate Mick's groin-squeezing falsetto.
- By the time you get to "You will be mine, you will be mine all mine!" they'll be in a frenzy of lust. Guaranteed.
And that's all I got. Good luck!
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Thursday, July 16th, 2009
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I've been daydreaming a lot about having my own cable series. Like a *lot*. ASOFE would actually make a good series, as it's episodic, has a small cast of primary characters and a huge cast of secondary characters, has a set location and could really be done on the cheap. Since there's two primary storylines (the story of William Sunya, who is taken from his family and becomes the apprentice of Vons Serin, and the story of Josef Ephraim, who is the surrogate the babysitters made for the missing Sunya boy and develops his box-stories) I think it would be easy to keep balance between the two, and since they cover different areas (Sunya wanders the Midwest while Ephraim moves deeper and deeper into the subterranean labyrinth) there's a balance there. I have ideas for directors and set designers and how I'd break up each season, ideas for the score and how I'd deal with music licensing and costumes and how the DVDs would be assembled and what the box art would look like and who I'd get to do the voices of the puppets. It would last for five seasons, for numerological reasons, and also because that seems a good length for a series. Endless dreams.
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So I *might* have an Iowa City show this Friday if everything works out, opening for Wet Hair (tour homecoming). I'm really hoping this is the case, as quite a few people are heading out from Iowa City in the next month and I'd like to get in one show there this summer, plus I'm stoked on the bill. I'll be playing one of the few MPA songs never released (I can never find the right album for it), 2003's deeply questionable The Lonely House at Adachi Moor, based on the print of the same title (NSFW!) by Yoshitoshi. This should be fun, as I get to do my Vons Serin bit of costumes and speaking in tongues and generally being a weirdo, plus I get to play the AX80 which I rarely ever pull out for a live show, plus there's a coda which is my tribute to the band Cathedral which is probably the closest thing MPA has ever done to straight-up Sabbath metal. I'll try to get a video recording if possible. Andy from Regicide is trying to set us up a show in Indiana, I should have a Chicago show before too long (hopefully with The Golden Sores -- if you haven't picked up their album A Peaceable Kingdom GET IT NOW, it's amazing) and I'm still planning the East Coast tour, so hopefully I'm finally out of the live show slump.
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Wednesday, July 15th, 2009
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(so here's the deal on this: in 2001 Mute magazine had a contest to see who could create something which used the list of ECHELON search terms. We were doing the Avatar Festival at that time, and decided to take a run at it, and wrote a story using all the terms. We won the prize of five hundred Euros, which we donated to Doctors Without Borders. I was thinking about this for some reason, and couldn't find a copy online, so I put it up here.)
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"We strongly believe in the separation of powers, but there are multiple ways to separate powers." --Alvin Toeffler
1.
Dr. Austin Toth stepped through the door of T-Branch Unit 669 of Los Alamos National Laboratory and faced the 72 member S.E.T. team, already assembled. He hoped coffee had been made; it was going to be a very long weekend.
"The package arrives from Fort Meade tonight," he announced. 72 nerd society elites paused in silence, as if the muezzin had summoned the faithful to prayer. The Package... Found in 1967 by Israeli recon unit Sayeret Golani. Studied covertly by RSA and MI-17 analyzers. Stolen by Global ARPA. Prodded extensively by military Psyops for 100 days in Maryland. The prospecting that was reserved for acquisitions of this caliber began. The EPL wanted to perform BNC with their brand new FID (not officially government owned, NOGO, of course). Atomic, Biological and Chemical (ABC) offered that the SAS would be very interested in a VOA for the presence of both EO and BZ. There were some protests from those who had previously filed a BURPA indicating that the study of the BOP of The Package must be given priority, since any ABC study which was not done with EAM ran the risk of creating SADT, and what’s worse, UXO.
Toth bristled. "Disagreement will not be treated as disloyalty here. I’m afraid, however, that even though this is supposed to be a routine BX, the military has a slightly different notion of how the package will be analyzed. Security is going to be as tight as a butt line unity drill. I’m afraid the only acronym we will be using today is BLU".
The Package arrived wrapped in 17 layers of IRIDF SAFE paper at 2300 hours. Most of the workers had already gone home. Toth lingered. He was like a naked mole rat drone that could not leave its darkened tunnels. S.E.T. Team life afforded him no energy for ladylove, no time at all. The EODC, EODG, and EODN fractions were known to be well beyond delta safety level.
Area-51, eat your heart out, he gloated. Its here, in New Mexico, and it is monsoon season.
2.
Horus waited patiently for Isis at the Retinal Fetish show. Her success hinged on the intel Horus and his renegade team had managed to acquire. The NSA’s CipherTAC-2000 chips were definitely pretty SecDef, but cospo.osis.gov firewalls were easily circumvented by SAMCOMM (Some Amazing Military Computer Offensive Mega Matrix). The eternity server message had been concise:
From anonymous@c4i.org
To: r00t <remailers@c4i.org>
cc: Elvis@ie.org, Furby@jya.com, Black-Ops@192.47.242.7, SIGDEV@TACSAT, bob@BITNET.NET, froglegs <iwwsvcs@infosec.pocsag.llnl.gov>
Subject: Information Warfare
no trouble intercepting the PGP key from S.E.T. Team. Commence spoofing and sniffing of passwords. I don’t know if they use any S/Key for their authentication, but that really doesn’t matter, since once we were past the firewalls, we could pretty much go anywhere we wanted; there are a lot of rhosts files around, combine that with rusers and rsh, and, well, you know the rest. I don’t think Secure shell or SSL was even installed on this machine, so much for Unix Security, eh? Long live crypto-anarchy! The RSA would be so proud if they could only see us now.
"Secure Internet", indeed. Fuxx0red.
Until INFOSEC!
Horus idly wondered if all this would eventually be documented in the hacker underground somewhere years from now, perhaps in 2600 magazine. Perhaps no one would believe the story when it was finally told. He lit a cigarette and scanned the crowd, seeing many old friends, nodding and smiling.
And then, he saw Isis, and the sight of her stilled his heart. She was impossible to miss: green on the inside and green on the outside. She had beautiful, fiery eyes filled with tremendous resolve; she was a ninja, she was a goddess, creating silence in human spaces.
She sat down opposite him and said, "I’ve missed you, my son."
"I am here to serve," Horus replied. "All will go well until the very last level of Security. Listen to the lyrics. I guarantee you will know when to use them."
And Retinal Fetish begin their song:
"SASSTIXS SATCOMA ABRAXIS
SURSAT AMEMB SASSTIXS
BLACKER BECKER SAAM
UKUSA SAAM GEBA SAAM"
Isis smiled. Her son had style.
"How did you learn these passwords?" she asked. "How did you learn the location?"
Horus kissed her cheeks lightly. "The package wants to be found," he replied. "This was always inevitable."
3.
Isis entered the site through the SAP, the Storm Annex Portal. She wiled her way through the molecular body sweep. Along the way she revealed nothing of her presence, observing with her every sense what defenses were ahead. She slinked through tight spaces on her stomach, twisting herself into unimaginable positions to reach the deepest sub-basements. Floor upon floor of nothing - no offices, no machines, no people, just the ever-present hum of the ventilation system - until she reached the lowest basement of T-Branch Unit 669.
Feelers spreading throughout the floor. We know each other, we feel each other. So persistent, so strong. Urgent, aching, vibrating with such need. Show me where you are, guide me. Let me heal you, complete you, receive you.
Jolts, surges of electricity. Emptiness beginning to fill. Wildness seeping in through every pore, every sense. A rain of memories. Years uncounted, millenia of darkness, longing channeled through memories laden with His power. Remembering contact with a surge of emotion. Body remembering, cells quaking. Feel Him, feel His sex calling to me. Reunion beckons. Lover, brother, eternal soulmate - finally, our time approaches.
As it once was, it will be again. Flesh coming together, melding. Lips meeting in kisses lasting years. His tongue sliding across my teeth, slipping over my lips and down the sensitive skin of my neck. Firefly movements of His fingertips across my belly and thighs. Breath barely escaping before the next gulp of air. Sensual anarchy in every red cell.
Return to the present. Leaving the shadows and struggling to remain human, in control. Animal self yearns for freedom. A soaring condor, a wild tiger, a raging tempest churning in my gut. Fighting, flailing wildly, blood spraying. Surrounded by rednoise and brutality. No quarter, no mercy, no feeling. Open, the door is open. The sarcophagus emits an unearthly glow, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. In centuries of seeking, sometimes floundering in a virtual abyss beyond hope, she lived this scene over and over. Now that the moment was upon her, she was barely prepared for its intensity. She didn’t need to confirm the container's contents - she felt the presence of the package as tangibly as if she held it in her hands once more.
Her eyes were large, seeing more clearly than she could remember in reaching the end of her search.. Now, instead of vast miles of land and sea separating them, she needed travel only as far as a thought to inform Him that she had the Key.
She signaled the transport team: Interception is complete.
4.
Smoke and flame drifted up from the mountain lab’s front lock, illuminating a row of body bags ending in one last burnt soldier on a gurney. Dr. Austin Toth strode through High Security and glared. "Report, soldier!"
"Sir, we had received HUMINT warning of an upcoming attack from a rogue black-ops team. Captain Egret ordered in support units from Ft. Meade to step up Event Security, and we had just settled the Package’ within the security maze inside the CAVE when the Covert Video systems turned to garbage. The Captain moved us to DefconVI alert and ordered the Rapid Reaction teams into the hallways. We started frantically debugging the Electronic Surveillance systems...we’d been hit by a lock-picking E-bomb, and were losing control over all the inner Locks. The front bird dog team collapsed under zipgun fire and flashbang grenades. The front lock suddenly disintegrated, along with both Larson and Merv. Unit 5707, the second Rapid Reaction Team, mostly Spetznaz veterans, clashed with the attacker while they were sweeping through Zone Two. We saw several cap-stun grenades shatter against Morwenstow, the point-man, and cascaded back, scattering shrapnel through the entire team. It took less than two minutes for the attacker to blow through the zone. She showed her real fangs when she ran into the first RRT, those Pathfinders on loan from the 22nd SAS. We were hoping that they would hold her off long enough for reinforcements to arrive, but the entire team, Morgan, the redheads, Larson, Jackson, and Ortega were turned into wallpaste by the blasts of the cap-stuns. I saw something disembowel Monica right there on the screen - they just kept going off and going off and going off. But we couldn’t follow her. It was like we were being attacked by a chameleon man. Then she was right outside the CAVE lock, and we could see the door glowing red. She had passed the mini rail-guns at the front security door and was trying to burn a ram through the last lock. The captain made it official and ordered me to activate the ‘DEADBEEF’ peapod, which is supposed to seal the CAVE. But she got through the door, and between the flashbangs and the M16 fire I was unable to get to the panel in time and I saw her shoot the Captain with his own Glock. She opened the SAP, and that’s all I remember. It was just one person. A woman. She was so fast. So fast."
5.
The helicopter landed at Infinitek's global headquarters in Cairo. Infinitek CEO Scott O. Moore greeted Isis on the landing platform. She breathed heavily of the African air, delighted to be home. Behind her, the sarcophagus containing the package was unloaded from the helicopter and transferred to a sophisticated CCS (cryogenic cooling system), which was then placed inside another sophisticated CCS (contamination control system) for further protection.
"The other pieces are assembled in Vault 23," Moore said.
She nodded. The sarcophagus was loaded into a freight elevator. She was hesitant to let it out of her sight, but Moore took her arm and said, "It's safe here. You should get ready... this is going to be a big night."
"You have no idea," she tells him.
6.
Moore retreated to his office to wait out the final hours before preparations were complete. This had not been an easy year for the man at the helm of Infinitek’s vast global empire, the hidden empire that pulled the strings of over 60% of the world’s collected companies. Even now, top executives were assembling in Vault 23, awaiting the unveiling ceremony. William Gates, one of his lieutenants, rang to see if he wanted coffee, but he was definitely sufficiently wired for the situation.
For years, Moore relied on an incredibly advanced proprietary DSS (decision support system), running on a blisteringly fast supercomputer, to provide crucial assistance as he slowly brought the pieces together. At first, he simply believed he was making sound business decisions, advancing the interests of the illuminati on the company’s board of directors. Eventually, however, the DSS seemed to take on a life of its own, and Moore realized he was no more than a human agent for an industrial intelligence that lurked within the interstices of Infinitek. As the company quietly took secret control of a wide range of other companies, Moore imagined he saw the outlines of a motive, but even as he authorized and executed the black-ops mission to insert Isis into Los Alamos, he remained uncertain of the ultimate end. What did Infinitek want? World domination? Surely there was more than simple corporate security at stake.
7.
Isis watched Moore take his place among the collected executives. Infinitek’s empire controlled thirteen key pieces of intellectual property, each an important piece of her beloved. AT&T controlled His language center and His voice. GBC, the General Binding Company, controlled His musculature and skeleton. A FLiR system was at the heart of His vision. The Rand Corporation controlled the bulk of His central nervous system. Exxon Shell controlled His cardiovascular system. Keebler, of all companies, controlled His digestive system. There were seven other pieces, all comprising a critical portion of her beloved.
Infinitek had waged endless information warfare and industrial espionage to assemble these pieces here tonight. And now the final piece, missing for eons, had been rescued from Set’s clutches. She watched the Infinitek Meta-hackers slowly fire up thirteen individual apparatuses. A blast of consciousness filled the entire Vault, and Isis bathed in its emanations.
Isis alone would engage the final piece. With a simple thought, she unlocked the sarcophagus and flung open the lid. The final piece — the phallus of Osiris, once thought lost to a crocodile — glowed brightly, overwhelming the mortals in the room. But Isis grabbed the phallus with her hand, and raised it into the air. With a flourish, she directed the phallus into its place in His divine body.
My beloved bride, you have restored me…
And Osiris rose up, and took His beloved bride. Their coupling unlocked a new era of freedom, honor, and hope among the humans, as their newly unified energy spread across the planet and swept their enemies aside.
8.
A light at one end of the SAP flowed towards Toth like a thick fluid, wrapping around the walls. He tried to run, but the light approached him, until he could make out forms within the light, Pink Noise static settling to a low hum in his ears like dried cicadas trapped inside their skulls. The light formed into the tunnel, where the Watchers, twenty-one on each side of the tunnel, pulled back their hoods to reveal Gorilla-faces, Blackbird-faces, human faces with giant Fangs.
"You are Nowhere. I am Maat, and this is the Site of judgment. Open the bones of your chest, so that your heart may be weighed, and Burned for all eternity."
Like the petals of a flower, Toth’s ribs opened, his intestines spilling out onto the floor. Maat clipping his heart from the organ block with sharpened talons and placed it onto a giant scale while the Watchers asked questions.
"I witnessed your actions in the form of a Bellcore Corporate Security agent. Did you Force the Chosen path toward Evil?"
"I witnessed your actions in the form of Deputy Prime Minister Abdurahmon Azimov. Did you provoke Mania among the people of the Sphinx?"
"I witnessed your actions as Julie Larson, a victim of your crimes. Did you Assassinate me? Did you Honor my memory?"
Toth tried to answer, but there was no air in his lungs.
"There will be no Shelter for you, no Hope. Hate and Johohonbu will Number your days. Let the beast loose upon him."
Amemait, the Devourer, crawled out of the light, a mass of lion and crocodile and hippopotamus. She waited before Toth while each question added to the weight of the heart, until the scale tipped toward the floor. Then Amemait opened her jaws.
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I haven't checked Sailor Mouth in a while, and apparently I've been missing out because he's built a sequencer out of a VTech laptop using a limited form of BASIC and a homemade interface built from a 4016 chip. Fuck your Arduino in the parallel port -- this is genius.
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HOLY SHIT: this year's Fantastic Fest will include a screening of Hausu! If you are in Austin it is MANDATORY that you see this! Prepare your brains to be destroyed forever! Hausu at the Alamo Drafthouse is maybe the greatest thing ever.
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It's been quiet for a while, so here's what is going on.
Vons Serin is no longer available, as it's being prepared for a proper label release. This will be the third expanded version (first version came with WAMB in an edition of eight, second edition (with The Unrequited Brides Destroy Reality) I released seperately and sold two, so basically there's ten copies out there) with Unrequited removed (and put back with the Blearyeared material, more on that later) and replaced with the live version of Drift When You Have No Gravity that I've been working on for a while. I'm not sure if I Am Hiding From Your Song is gonna be on the reissued album or not (it depends if it comes out as vinyl or cd, and if vinyl Vons Serin will have to be edited to fit); if not I'll include a bonus cdr with that and the original live version of Unrequited and a chunk of the Vons Serin Drone. This version will have a new cover and include new texts. More on this after the label confirms.
Uneasy Action is once again on hold. I figure I'll just leave it be and maybe try to find Durga a home on a compilation or split or something.
There's a remastered and expanded copy of On The Sunny Side of the Skull available, but the label dropped it so I don't know what's gonna happen. I really don't want to release a ton of crap all the time, so I'm not really pushing it, but if you want me to make you a copy let me know.
Speaking of flooding the market, the DVD of Recursive Musicks is nearing completion. Originally this was a cdr with 100 tracks, and is now basically the MPA sound archive. This will be public domain. There's about three gigs of .wav drones and noises and junk, some completed songs and some endless "fell asleep in front of the synth" junk. I think what I might do is whip this up as feed: a track a day every day (if you don't want the whole dvd). Trying to figure out the best way to do this.
The second TODF album Plemora: The Shurnken Operas of Julietta Levana is slowly coming together. It's been a busy and heavy summer and my head really isn't in the right space for a project this delicate, and with the reissue jazz I'm not in a rush, but it's getting there.
What my head *is* in the right space for is Clocksucker, my junked-up boogie noise combo, and the hits just keep coming on that front with new songs I'm a Bowlegged Towheaded Broke Dick Dog (But I Love You), Not Even Feeling The Blows, She's Eighteen Enough and I Can't Help It If Your Wife Likes To Party. Chances are good I'll trim the fat on this and release it as a split with the MPA covers album Sockfucker Blues. I got a label prepped for this but I suspect the Clocksucker stuff might make them reconsider, so we'll see.
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Over at Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies it's Barbara Crampton week, and it's probably not a shock to see the first review is of the almighty Re-Animator. If you haven't seen it in a while, you should, and if you've never seen it you're in for a treat, because if you like your horror movies breakneck, crazily entertaining and waist-deep in gloop this is your bag. Re-Animator and From Beyond came out when I was in middle school, and just getting into my gorehound phase, and while they weren't the first horror films I connected with (I suspect that was probably Alien) they definitely were a major influence on my concept of how movies should work (which is to say waaaaaay over the top) and always meant a lot more to me than the usual 80s slasher stuff my friends were into. Plus, while Barbara Crampton is not really my type (which, for the record, is Soledad Miranda) she's great in this film and totally nails a certain 80s quality, riding a difficult line between horror and comedy (and this is the key -- unlike most films that try to play that via irony and detachment, where each undercuts the other, here both horror and comedy build off each other, so that by the time we get to the morgue at the end you just stare happily dumbfounded at the screen), and gratuitous nudity is always a plus in my book. And if that's not enough, the dvd release is one of the nicest 2dvd packages I own, with tons of extra material that is actually well worth checking out and a great commentary track. I'll probably write a proper review over at TODF later after I give it yet another viewing.
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January 1996. I got fired from Target, which was good as I am not naturally good at selling people shit they don't need, and so I started working custodial in Gilmore Hall, which was undergoing a lot of construction at the time, and that was a pretty easy gig: I'd check in across the way in the basement of Calvin Hall, and me and another guy (whose name I can't remember now, but he was pretty cool -- we were both "put on your headphones and zone out" types) cleaned the building. I think this was about nine until two or so, and I mostly swept/scrubbed floors and did some vacuuming classrooms, which is the stuff I like (the stuff I don't like is bathrooms and glass) and it went well for a few months while I was in school. The other big plus was I could walk to work, as I only lived a few blocks west. During this time my housing situation became unreasonable and I moved into the Riverhouse Co-op (which is now a frat) which was a mistake, I'll just say that. Anyway, this meant I lived even closer to work, so the first few months of 1996 went pretty well, writing a lot and occasionally going to class and bumming around with Kyra a lot. The guy I worked with decided he wanted more hours, so they moved me to another building across the river in the Bowen Science Building. As you can imagine, the Riverhouse Co-op was right on the river, so this was still a short walk, and ended up being a few more hours, which I was pretty happy about as the less time I spent at the co-op the better. Bowen is (I think) six stories tall, and basically each floor has its own custodian (with two custodians who only did bathrooms), which suited me pretty well as I figured I wouldn't have to work with anybody, but Dave (my boss) started me out working with an older guy until I "got the ropes". That shit sucked. I don't want to get into too many details, but the guy I worked with seemed pretty friendly so we went and did bathrooms and trash and he'd talk about whatever, so I was obligated to not wear my headphones, but what the hell. After a while he said it was time for a break, and you don't need to tell me twice about taking a break, so we're sitting down in one of the offices and he starts talking about how he thinks one of the other custodians is cute, and I kinda just say whatever, and he seems to be getting more and more into this idea, and I realize he's masturbating. This was unreasonable, and I told Dave I wasn't having it, and he gave me my own floor where I didn't have to do bathrooms. I suspect he knew this was going to happen, as he didn't seem to shocked about it.
There were a few really cool things about this job: first, I got an elevator key to go to the sub-basement, and I have a knowledge of that building that most people who work there will never have (seeing the backstage areas of a building is always awesome), and since I did recycling for my floor (which meant taking a huge blue wheeled bin in a loop around the floor and filling it with paper and magazines and slides and ephemera) which I'd rifle through before dumping it in the recycle dumpster for collage material. That said, working cleanup in a medical building has obvious downsides: I had to get OSHA trained to dispose of medical waste (don't tell my current boss I have this, as I'd like to avoid doing it at my current job) which meant taking red biohazzard bags filled with sketchy material down to the incinerator, and after the initial novelty of working the incinerator wore off this was officially the worst regular part of my job. There was some animal experimentation on my floor, and while none of it was particularly heinous it never sat well with me. That said, I did get to wax the floors of the autopsy lab a couple times, which was an interesting experience (autopsy cadavers, I discovered, have their heads and hands wrapped in gauze so they can't be identified by students), and just generally got to see all sorts of things I had never seen before, which was good prep for some of my later shitjobs like exterminator and meat packing custodial and gravedigger.
When you work custodial at a place for more than a month you start to really learn a lot about the people who work there, more than you ever really wanted to know -- remember that bit in The Breakfast Club where the janitor talks about how he knows about all the students? That's totally accurate. Most of the people were gone by the time we started, but in a lab there's always a couple people working late, and interacting with them was always interesting -- sometimes they're really overly friendly (particularly at a place like the University of Iowa, which is a pretty liberal place, so there's always people happy to converse with the proletariat), sometimes they're really pissed that you're intruding on their property (with those people I usually just didn't clean that space that night, which worked out best for everybody), sometimes they just pretend you're not there (which is fine, since that meant I could just listen to tapes -- I started making an early version of Teraphim Mystery Recording tapes around this time so I had endless drones to listen to at work). I would fight occasional boredom with pointless headtrips like organizing the pushpins in the bulletin boards in patterns or writing screwy messages on the whiteboards or putting up some of my Cult of the Yellow Sign flyers among the notices for department hirings and upcoming biology conferences, and it seems like people were generally okay with this so long as I kept it low profile.
(more soon)
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So I keep saying that 2009 is 1975, and I think events have shaken out such to verify my prophecy (I'd like to note, for the record, that I agree with Thomas Paine: the contemporary translation "prophet" as "someone who has a dispensation from God to see the future" is inaccurate, and would be better translated as "a poet (in the time when poetry was sung)", but no time for that now) but if that's the case, I have to ask: who is the contemporary Kool And The Gang? Where are you, Kay-Gees? The generic electro-jams of Black Moth Super Boring are not cutting the mustard! A real soul band needs to rise and clear the world of hipster bullshit and get us to the roller rink! I keep trying to make music like this, but MPA is too soporific to bring the jams, and like I said before a band like this needs like fifteen members and it's a good day when I can say MPA has two. I'd join that band in a heartbeat, tho! Boogie music can always use extra drone bullshit!
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Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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Ubuweb continues its archival of noise dudes with a heavy collection by throat mangler Dylan Nyoukis.
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Iswari, this totally made me think of you. Peter Christopherson (Throbbing Gristle/Coil/Soisong) in his "Leonard Cohen Was Right" jacket during the TG reunion tour.
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I have a private twitter account for friends (friends here means people i would talk to on the phone, people who might pick me up from the mall) but since the monkey-mind will not be silenced there is now a public twitter account at TODF which is where you will find Styrofoam Nutsack (my real-time movie reviews), incoherent rambling, info on MPA/Clocksucker stuff and other goofs. It's gonna be pretty high-traffic and low-signal and it's definitely not safe for work. Or home, or on the bus, or pretty much anywhere.
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No internet from house, no sleep and feeling creepy so working on Clocksucker songs as that's the proper mindset. Moved "Child Bride Suicide" to the CS album (currently titled Bottomfeeder) as it fit better alongside "Unlicensed Garbageman", "My Bran Is A Box Of Broken Glass", "Lady Holes" and "Eight Dollars Worth Of Thrift Store Knives". Will probably include a copy of the demo with Cryptonarrative. I'll try to put up an mp3 before I head to Barn Burn.
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Among noise artists there's a handful of craftsmen who keep working and honing the tapes, keep sifting signal degradation and ungrounded current and line hum, getting deeper and more experienced as years and trends fly by. I'd put Aaron Dilloway in that category, and Justin Myers, and without a doubt Jon Borges. His ear for hum, for texture and depth, is among the best, and he brings that attention to detail to every track on Austere. In the past, Pedestrian Deposit has been Borges' harsh noise project and Emaciator has been his dronier twin, but on Austere he voids that distinction, bringing us back to proper Musique Concrete. This is an astonishing album, and while there's six tracks it feels like one thick long trawl through abandoned infrastructure and decayed NYNEX trunks, lost signals like water in a drain. Easily one of the best albums I've heard this year.
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Wednesday, July 1st, 2009
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In a failed attempt to make the back pages of this lj a bit more comprehensible, I have marked all entries written by Ana Skyfish with the ana tag. There's still a bunch in a journal somewhere I need to transcribe, but I'm pretty slow on the draw lately.
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XXX. THE MAQAMA OF RUSAFA
‘ÍSÁ IBN HISHÁM related to us and said: I sallied forth from Ruṣáfa to go to the capital when the fervent summer sultriness boiled in the breast of irritation. Now when I had traversed half the road, the heat became intense, patience failed me and so I turned towards a masjid which had appropriated to itself the secret of all beauty. And in it there were people contemplating its ceilings and discussing its pillars. Finally the discussion led them to the mentioning of thieves and their artifices, and cut-purses and their practices.
They mentioned among thieves, forgers of seals, the light-fingered, and palmers, him who gives short weight, him who robs in the ranks, him who throttles by the sudden attack, him who hides in the locker till lifting is possible, him who substitutes by cajoling, him who steals in jest, him who steals by the confidence trick, him who invites to compromise, him who sweeps off the change, him who induces sleep, him who confounds with backgammon, him who deceives with the monkey, him who gets the better by means of the mantle and a needle and thread, him who brings thee a lock, him who makes a subterranean passage, him who renders men unconscious with hemp, or cheats by juggling, him who changes his shoes, him who ties his two ropes, him who overpowers with the sword, him who ascends from the well, him who accompanies the caravan, the gentry of the cloth, him who enters the assemblies, him who flees from the night patrol, him who seeks refuge from danger, him who flies the bird, him who plays with the strap and says 'Sit down, there is no harm!', him who steals by playing upon people's modesty, him who takes advantage of a panic, him who gets a meal in the street by blowing his trumpet, him who brings a pitcher, the master gardeners, those who rob through the windows, him who scales lofty houses, him who climbs upon the roof, him who creeps stealthily with the knife along the mud wall, him who comes to thee suddenly with a sweet-smelling nosegay, the men of the axe like official attendants, him who comes by stealth and moans after the manner of madmen, the possessors of keys, the men of cotton and wind, him who. enters the door in the guise of a guest, him who goes into the house like a visitor, him who passes in humbly in the garb of the destitute, him who steals at the cistern when the plunge makes it possible, him who robs with two sticks, him who swears to a debt, him who cheats with the pledge, him who gives a bill of exchange, him who changes the purse, him who palms off in fraud, him who gives to bankrupts, him who clips his sleeve and then says, 'Observe and decide', him who stitches the breast, him who says 'Dost thou not know?' him who bites, and him who ties, him who substitutes when he counts, him who enters with his accomplices and says, 'He is not asleep', him who deceives thee with a thousand, him who passes behind, him who steals in fetters, him who shams pain to defraud, him who beats with the shoe, him who questions the truth, him who steals with a cleft stick, him who enters by the underground passage, him who takes advantage of mining, the masters of the grapnels and the rope of coconut fibre; and the conversation turned on to him who got the better of them.
Here follows a story of Abú’l-Fatḥ al-Iskanderí, which, on grounds of decency, has been omitted. The only thing in it that may be mentioned is 'the moonlight night', regarding which he says, 'in other than his own garb'.
'And a phantom paid a nocturnal visit when night was in a garb not his own
And the full moon met him and brightened the parting of his hair.'
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Okay, look. Here's the thing. Amanda Palmer made money selling hipster t-shirts to other hipsters who hang out on twitter. This is fine. This has NOTHING to do with "new avenues for musicians to seek revenue" or whatever. The shirts have nothing to do with her as a musician, they're not advertising her band, there's literally no connection. This is like saying frat party t-shirts are a new avenue for musicians. It's like saying I know a dude in a death metal band who also makes lawn ornaments and so lawn ornaments are a new avenue for musicains to seek revenue.
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anaskyfish's journal
