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.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

yes sir!

it's done, and damn well done right!

  • Anna Skira for doing a live demonstration earlier, last month.
  • Thor, for being a constant source of inspiration.
  • Jeff Beck, for chillin' in the back and playing some blues.
  • The Man, for his forgetten pack of Classic's lying around in some
    obscure part of the house
  • And finally, the Oriya, for the last remaining solitary rolling paper that he abandoned in my room.


Sunday, June 17, 2007

exactly like Erich von Stroheim in the movies, the man you love to hate.

who needs that, you ask?

people. places. lovers (each other of course). cinema, poetry, art. kings and empires. society.

hatred, and fear - those very ugly yet powerful forces which manipulate us so, that we never seek to question what lies outside, to doubt who we are and what we stand for. the principle devices for the construction of our slave collar which we so proudly wear...

but who needs that, when you can summon all of your righteous fury into condemning the one you hate. and that's the handle isn't it?

an end to magick and fairy tales. an end to truth and justice.

The gallows pole for the errant philosopher, the misguided idealist, the criminal prophet and the poetic terrorist. The heathen God and his faithful priest.

It is not so hard to imagine Eden waiting with her gates open for them. Our saviors -
ripped to pieces, their death the subject of casual conversation over cocktails at some boutique coffee shop.

like Agaue arriving home amidst great ceremony and celebration, carrying the head of her own son, Pentheus.

He enjoys the taste of what is wholesome for him;
his pleasure in anything ceases when the bounds of the wholesome are crossed;
he divines the remedies for partial injuries;
he has illnesses as great stimulants of his life;
he knows how to exploit ill chances;
he grows stronger through the accidents that threaten to destroy him;
he instinctively gather from all that he sees, hears, experiences, what advances his main concern --- he follows a principle of selection --- he allows much to fall through;
he reacts with the slowness bred by a long caution
and a deliberate pride --- he tests a stimulus for
its origin and its intentions, he does not submit;
he is always in his own company, whether he deals with books, men, or landscapes;
he honors by choosing, by admitting, by
-- 1003 (Jan-Fall 1888), F.N.

Monday, June 04, 2007

baddest bitches in the bed... gotta get mellow ya'll

pusherman get mellow ya'll