Synaesthetic Monk's Blues

Phantasmagoria, magic lantern shows, spectacles without substance. They achieved complete sensory experiences through noise, incense, lightening, water. There may be a time when we'll attend Weather Theaters to recall the sensation of rain.

My Photo
Name:
Location: Ithaca, New York, United States

The main thing a musician would like to do, is to give a picture to the listener of the many wonderful things he knows of and senses in the universe... I'm using the insides of sounds to move around in a very subtle way which, I think, ends up being inevitable. I feel it's the only solution to that particular problem that I presented myself.

Saturday, March 25, 2006


"Strange memories on this nervous night..."

I think the essential psychology behind the trip is to realize the very fact. Beyond a certain point you start getting extremely self-introspective about everything and get buried in the details. You are faced with the essential dilemma: do you make sense of everything else or is everything else supposed to make sense of you?

The primary problem for the brain is this: it needs to appreciate the fact the other people at that very instant don't see, comprehend or feel the way it does. And other other agents need to appreciate the fact the individual concerned at that very instant in an effort to perhaps commune with his own self on recurring metaphysical levels is equally divided in his activities of trying to fathom why the floor of his room resembles the floor of a lush rain forest; or why his roommates face is expanding and contracting like some weird balloon.

The tripper's problem lies in trying to reconciliate all of this into a collective whole and desperately trying to tie the threads to form some sort of coherent reality where both these realities(his own, and the "normal" reality of everyone else) co-exist.

and this I think is the essential fallacy of the trip...

"Strange memories on this nervous night... Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a main era - -the kind of peak that never comes again.

Maybe it meant something. Maybe not in the long run; but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant."

Friday, March 17, 2006


The Ceremony
safely locked in my own boogie bubble,
floating over blue jeweled waters -
like colors draining out of my broken canvas, on some forgotten rainy day,
my brain floats on these colorful streams of consciousness.
riding on the iridescent overtones of the fundamental frequency,
on these waves of rapture and delight,
lost in this evergreen glass forest,
lost on this haze of reflected peripheral images of fragmented universes,I traverse a golden blue everlasting autumn dusk...
I have been crowned the King of the Cloud Demons...