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
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.

Sunday, July 30, 2006


Distant echoes, the solitary drops break against the glass…
In their
insignificant death they are remembered –
By the residue of dirt which dries (dies)
to a crust on the windowpane…
blank faces on the

Once he wished for nothing, but to watch and wait
the clocked ticked away at midnight,
The beauty of the light soft rain would
cocoon him in a warm gentle dreamless sleep…

Now he can’t
remember – weird dreams plague sleep.
The echoes are always of lives that he
could’ve lived… and died
Morning creeps up behind him and night melts away
in shades of purple
(say do you remember, the time we cried?)
And the rain
haunts him… in his sleep, his waking hours, in his dreams…

Now he
just recollects: rain drops are spherical because of the physical property of
surface tension.
An end in magick, belief in god, the end of
Blank face in the windowpane…

Sunday, July 16, 2006

"I see it feelingly" - Gloucester, King Lear, IV, vi, 147.

Unfortunately, humans lack the sophisticated neural hardware present in bats and whales. The blind must rely on the feeble light of fingertips and painful shape of a cracked shin. Echolocation comes down to the crude assessment of simple sound modulations, whether in the dull reply of a tapping cane or the low, eerie flutter in one simple word - perhaps your word - flung down empty hallways (.... always) long past midnight...

Myth makes Echo the subject of longing and desire. Physics makes Echo the subject of distance and design. Where emotion and reason are concerned, both claims are accurate.

clamore... amore.... more... ore... re

And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love.

There is only silence.

Chi dara fine al gran dolore?