Monday, April 21, 2008

Orphanage magick

[ @@ Tz'ikin :: Two Birdsilver ]]


Played a show, I did, at th Orphanage last night. Met some fun humans, bopped to some wackynice music, generally had a blast!

I'd love to keep in touch w/ th folks I met! Feel free to click on 'fnords' under this entry to leave me a comment (fnord) about th show or about anything in th (un)known universe that you fancy.

Other acts that rocked my (& everyone's) socks:

AcTuaLLy: Beautiful songs, magnetic, fun for all! She really kicked things off nicely.
Let's Get Out of This Terrible Sandwich Shop: Delightfully silly band slash, yes, sandwich shop. Kudos: These guys pulled off a charmingly spot-on Rod Keith song-poem cover, to everyone's delight.
PUNK'N: Rock & blues song-poem superstars Gary & Josh Forney. Loved th tunes, loved their 'psychedelic art film,' Punk'n.
Electric Medicine: Groovy & funky; I especially enjoyed 'Fuckin A, C.I.A.' & 'White James Brown'. Memorably fun & dancable.

Another band & an electronic meistro also played nice sets, but I didn't catch either of their names. If you know, do inform me, & I'll give them a link in my blog as well.

Hooray for good times!

Loving Shovels,
AndR Q Nim

P.S. It so happens that I debuted a new Cumbus song: Six Death. Also, last night I mixed Cumbus & mandolin in a set for th first time. I'd call it a successful experiment, which I look forward to repeating. Zap!

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Tea Essence open mic guest host Nim & poetries.

I guest-hosted open mic at Tea Essence tonight & had a fun time of it. Only two others performers came, but we did doings & fid fooings. I enjoyed unearthing old mando tunes for new ears & got to practice some song-poem covers in preparation for my gig this Sunday (Chicagoland-types, do come for fun kinds of fun!).

My friend Russell Jaffe started a blog dedicated to "preserving fun in poetry" as he puts it. He asked for submissions, so I wound up as his first "Featured Poet" w/ some silly old stuff that I unearthed (lots of unearthing going on, it seems) just for th occasion. See O Sweet Flowery Roses.

Oh, & speaking of poetries, you may enjoy th little bits & pieces going on here: Constraintingbits. My friend Jacob Barton & I have started trading poetic constraints & writing poems that fit them. Th page contains two by him & one by me at this time, but we expect it to grow. Th letter codes (AJ, JJ, JA) tell who set th constraint (th first letter) & who answered th constraint w/ a poem (th second letter). In th case of JJ, Jacob set a constraint for himself & then answered it promptly thereafter.

If any Constraintophiles out there would like in on this, send me a message & we can work something out. I do enjoy a good collaboration.

berrying eggs: AndR

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Day Poem walkthru: @@@@ K'at

[ =@ Kame :: Six Death ]

I'd like to walk you thru another of my Day Poems. You may not care, but so it goes. I will share w/ you Four Net (2008-4-10) & tell you from where I got my words.

First, you should read it on its own. Interpret it (or don't) however you like. Yr response has no less validity than my ideas about it. Probably more.

jumblrain & fingrglyphing timps
gray carbeptat grinnish
pitterwind & I made Unders
Soppingtown they go to brass circles
building up a Macronose
they centering celebeans (!)
Symphony Callstreet, puddles
my egg. . . . .
nine minus seven of Them, plus th 2nd!
First of all try to reiterate a word he left.
landscape even w/o deeper meaning
made to bustle, to cry
she didn't, but I did (topping metal)

There. Now I will elucidate line-by-line.

jumblrain & fingrglyphing timps

I feel jumbled going into a rainy day of dogwalking. At th first house I go to, th dog's owner asks about th funny symbols on th notes I've left. He points w/ his fingers. I tell him that I draw hieroglyphs of th Mayan calendar days to practice them. In th car, I play Webern orchestral music on th CD player, & I notice th timpani.

gray carbeptat grinnish

Th sky looms gray as I go. I have some extra time, so I sit in my car & take a moment to write in my Book of Days. Thinking about th word "car," I remember "carbeptat," a word I once coined for th sole purpose of annoying my friend Dan. Remembering him & our odd relationship makes me grin.

pitterwind & I made Unders

I sit in my car; rain makes a pittering against th windows as th wind blows outside. I read a bit of Being & Nothingness & underline bits that I like.

Soppingtown they go to brass circles

I walk more dogs thru their neighborhoods (towns) in circles; they become sopping wet. I notice th brass section recorded on my CD. (I may have switched from Webern to Shostakovitch by now; I can't remember.)

building up a Macronose

Later, I do an evening walk for a dog & particularly like named Maggie. She lives w/ a cat who has extra toes. Th first time I walked them, I referred to them in my Book of Days as "Wisdomutt & Manytoes". I liked that line & wound up singing it later in a song. In subsequent visits, I've made it a habit of creating a new line that sounds like th original: "wish them luck & pantyhose" for example, which I also sing. This time, I write "building up a Macronose".

they centering celebeans (!)

I visit Chase & Sara(h) at Coffee Studio. They serve me coffee (beans) & we center on good conversation. I enjoy th conversation quite a bit & later think of th visit as a celebration. My excitement about it comes as a surprise (& an afterthought), which may help explain my punctuation here.

Symphony Callstreet, puddles

Heading down th street to Logan Square to see my friend George, I make some calls: to Tiffany & to my bosses. I listen to a Shostakovitch symphony & drive in puddles.

my egg. . . . .

I notice that I feel a little anxious & jumpy (from th caffeine, I assume), & th realization makes me notice my head (egg). I don't know what to say about it, but I notice it.

nine minus seven of Them, plus th 2nd!

After finding parking, I sit in th car to allow Shostakovitch's 2nd symphony to finish. Nine minutes have passed & seven minutes remain. A short symphony. I also, just for fun, create an equation (9-7+2) which equals 4, th number of th day on th Mayan calendar.

First of all try to reiterate a word he left.

This line appears in a very awkward translation in th liner notes of th CD I listen to.

landscape even w/o deeper meaning

Watching Werner Herzog's Fata Morgana w/ George, this line appears in th narration. I like it, & it might apply to my Day Poems, so I write it down.

made to bustle, to cry

Fata Morgana sort of bustles w/ meaning & energy & goings-on. It makes me feel lots of complicated things. Th next movie we watch, Lessons of Darkness, makes me feel like crying.

she didn't, but I did (topping metal)

When I come back, I discover that Tiffany didn't do th dishes. We had assigned th night as "my dish night," so she didn't have to, but I suggested that she might do them as a trade for a day that I did hers. Anyway, I note that she didn't do them but I did. Then I think, "So what, Andrew, do you want a medal?" I put a metal bowl on top of th rest of th dishes on th drying rack.


I read a bit of Being & Nothingness before bed. Sartre discusses value. I don't understand him very well right now, but th word seems to me one complete thought to end th day w/.

Monday, April 7, 2008

thoughts of a manytype dérive

[ ==@@@ Junajpu :: Thirteen Marksman ]

In weather of Beautytype, I did leave my apartment for a wandering. I walked & looked & contemplated what I saw. I experienced th flow of feet. I saw people, dogs, buildings, bodies, vehicles, hairstyles, advertisements, relationships. I saw a plastic cup of an ambiguous yellow liquid w/ several flies squirming about at th surface, sitting on a grate next to a tree. I heard conversations, alarms, buses. I attempted different meditations: to think "in th here & now," trying not to conceive of th past or th future; to focus on everything; to focus on nothing; to think of humans as things; to think of humans as individuals endowed w/ their own consciousness & to try to think their thoughts; to allow landmarks of interest to pull me in like a magnet or repel me in contrary directions. I generally tried to experiment w/ th possibilities inherent in "taking a walk."

I wouldn't automatically call my walk a dérive, but I'd certainly say that th concept of th dérive inspired it. Th wanderthink nature of th walk ended when I found my good friend George just getting off work & we proceeded to togethrenjoy Spring w/ conversation, Lake Michigan, ferns, beers, & tacos.

So I got to thinking about a more "organized" multi-human dérive of soorts. Th goal: to actively recreate th world & immediate environment in a mythistorcal manner; to reject th Objective & th Subjective in favor of th Divinely Absurd; to live an original story.

By 'mythistorical,' I refer to an approach of creating history & mythology together, as one indivisible way of seeing & reporting. Th events 'happen' & they do not 'happen'. They have one foot in Earthly doings & one foot in Chaos. After all, our own History belongs to us, so let us shift it toward th Divinely Absurd - into Mythistory, into Epic Poetry, into th songs of Bards & Druids.

Given that, what could we Do & how could we Do it? I thought of ways of organizing time & activities & came up w/ these basic roles:

Th mediator strives to remain "in th present moment," engaging w/ th world & environment unencumbered by items or particular tasks. This person has th freedom to start conversations w/ strangers, bring th party in new directions, sing songs, recite Shakespeare, or basically do anything that seems best in bringing forth a direct mythistorical catharsis. Of course, just quietly walking & observing fall w/i th sphere of th mediator as well. Th mediator does "nothing in particular."

Th mythistorian takes notes on all that goes, filling pages in a given notebook w/ a chaotic & quirky narrative. Ey attempts to apply mythological, poetic, subjective, symbolic, personal significance to th events of th day by whatever methods seem best. Anything that makes an appearance in th consciousness of th mythistorian may have a place in th pages of th mythistorian's notebook.

Th cartographer we can think of as an extension of th mythistorian. This person creates idiosyncratic maps of th routes taken, including th "significant" landmarks encountered, relating them on paper in a personal way for th unfolding of th story. Th cartographer may identify "zones" of certain types & discover new ways of recreating ideas about space. They may make their maps beautiful, strange, & of course very personal. In Situationist jargon, th cartographer applies eir thinking to psychogeography.

Th timekeeper determines th lengths of blocks of time which divide th day. Each block goes between 15 & 45 minutes, th exact length either chosen at whim or using random methods. Th timekeeper sets some sort of timer (egg timer, stopwatch, cell phone, what have you). After each block, th timer will sound an alarm to indicate a transition point.

At th end of each block, dérivers change roles & specific ritualistic actions take place, eg. a song performed, a poem recited, a mark made on th sidewalk, a gift given to a stranger, etc. When one or more dérivers enter a building, th timekeeper must stop th clock. Th transitions must occur on th street.

This list implies a group of four people, but we could have fewer or more. Th mythistorian can merge w/ th cartographer. Th mediator can merge w/ th timekeeper. We can easily have more than one mediator (they could interact & create experimental dialog). More than one mythistorian would provide us w/ alternative mythistories to compare. & of course, we can create different roles (perhaps a gift-giver, who collects items along th way to paste together to create artifacts to share w/ passersby).

Th notebooks of th mythistorian & th cartographer would become available for th group's perusal later (or anyone's, for that matter) on th internet. These documents would serve as th only surviving information about th dérive after its completion (outside of th memories of th participants & perhaps their reflective writings, if they choose to reflect). Thus, participants could relive th dérive only in a mythistorical manner & those involved could create th dérive in their imagination only in a mythistorical manner. Indeed, in these later (re)creations of th dérive, a more purely mythistorical perspective we could achieve.

This idea may differ enough from th classic dérive that we ought to find another name for it. Mythwander?

I have a handful of people already in mind for this kind of Doing. I think we'd shoot for a Saturday or Sunday & attempt to go at least from mid-morning to dusk. It would probably work best w/ two to five people. If this thrills you, do send a message. We would most likely do this in Chicago, but we could conceivably make a trip to some other city in th general area. Maybe we'd hop up to Wisconsin or over to Indiana.

This kind of thing would probably work best if we do it more than once. Of course, each mythwander would produce a different adventure. We could arrange to do it monthly or biweekly, w/ a rotating cast of characters based on individual availability. If you'd like yr name in th hat for this, as I said, do send a message.

Alright, I've said enough about this for now. It only remains to actually Happen. Let us make it.


Friday, April 4, 2008

Burrito w/ Artichokes!

'Nuff said.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

th Xtian Xemist

[ =@@@@ Ajmak :: Nine Sinner ]

I met tonight a Christian Chemist, & we had great conversation sharing our similarly different realities w/ one another!

I played at Tea Essence open mic my '5 songs of fish.' After, she approached me & asked what my song "is about." I told her, "fish." She explained how she tried to make sense of it: "First it seemed like a metaphor comparing people to fish, but then it got political, & I didn't get th part about th scales," etc. I told her it didn't mean much past th words themselves, altho I did explain that th "Ho Chi Minh" in th song refers to a goldfish I used to live w/, & not any historical human. She seemed a little troubled by th idea that a song could not mean anything.

She noticed that I had assembled little "comic book" things (a new project of mine that I worked on at Tea Essence tonight) & inquired about them. I showed her. More nonsense: each panel comes from a pool of tiny meaningless drawings I had come up w/ & glued onto pieces of cardboard. Some panels contain ambiguous objects, others characters doing ambiguous things, & some have speech bubbles containing whatever happened to come into my head at th time (or perhaps some words borrowed from books that I opened up randomly). This really seemed to confuse her, but she seemed fascinated. Why intentionally create nonsense?

I told her I think people take themselves too seriously. We make meaning out of whatever gets thrown our way, we force things to fit together whether they want to or not, & we can stretch our minds a little bit & conceive of a very weird world. I intend to make lots of these little comics & eventually spend a day wandering Chicago & giving them out to strangers on th street. Sowing th seeds of Chaos. . . .

She asked what religion I follow, & I said none that has a name. I told her I think th world contains as many religions as people, because everyone creates their own. I like to look at many different traditions, poke around & find interesting things that seem illuminating. After all, humans have come up w/ thousands of religions. Th Christians have something to say, but so do th Buddhists, th Animists, th Hindus, th Ancient Egyptians, th pre-Colombian Mesoamericans, & so on & so forth. I find it hard to believe that one book out of so many has all th answers.

She told me about her relationship w/ God, that he guides her life to help her do right, to make good decisions. She had a wonderful way of expressing th philosophy of Jesus/love: We are all gifts, gifts to ourselves & gifts to each other. If Jesus said only that & stopped there, I'd like him quite a bit more! (& if so-called Christians w/ a different perspective than hers didn't so often take Jesus & twist him into something ugly & destructive.)

She also said that as a chemist (w/ a PhD no less!) who does very logical, rational, analytical work, she doesn't think she could allow Chaos of th sort that I do into her life. When her home gets cluttered, her work gets cluttered, her mind gets cluttered, & she can't do her job. She had a very clear concept of who she "is" & who she "isn't," what her essence "is". She said she can't be a square & a circle at th same time. Not having her job (or her life), I couldn't argue.

To me, figuring out how to function as th Square & th Circle at th very same time seems like a worthwhile endeavor. I've thought more & more recently about how to combine rational, analytical, honest skepticism w/ raw, chaotic, magickal Living. Th Art of Science, th Science of Art. 1 + 1 = 1. Left brain, right brain, in full communication. Answering Zen koans & laughing w/ abandon. Acknowledging th Full, Unadulterated Complexity & Divinity of Everything. "Getting it."

She doesn't think you can get into heaven if you haven't found Jesus. Jesus saves. She didn't try to convert me. She honestly wanted to hear my side of things. But ultimately, because th book says so, & because she "knows" deep down, she believes I (& billions of others) will go to hell. But God is love.

To me, that seems like such an absurd contradiction! Not just, th Love/Hell thing, but th Rational, Analyzing, Scientific work that she does paired w/ that kind of Blind Dogma. Why can't she apply th scientific method to her faith?

Obviously, I can easily talk. I don't see thru her eyes, nor she thru mine. I didn't convince her of my agnostic approach & she didn't convince me of her Christianity. Jesus remains to me one of many fascinating creatures in our world's mythistory. He had some great ideas & a few fishy ones, if you ask me. If she finds meaning in her faith in him, I wouldn't ever want to get in her way. But I don't much like getting condemned to hell, either.

I gave her one of my comics. She said she'll put it up in her cubicle at work.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008


[=@@@ Tz'ikin :: Eight Birdsilver ]

I keep you notdated of th ways & dos of me. Apologies.

(Do I self-obsess to th point of fault?)

I continue dogwalking, homegrinding, reading (nowadays: SI Anthology, Being & Nothingness, th Fire From Within, th Omnivore's Dilemma...). Also: carrotchomping, beanfrying, cumbusing. I remain at 7 cumbus songs. More to come in time. Thinking about information, synthesis. Getting little hellos from Chaos, like when I almost lost my wallet yesterday. (As I looked all over for it, I realized that Universe has given me a timely lesson in Nothingness.) We started doing "candle hour" in my apartment to conserve electricity. I got a new dog on my route named Chellie.

& such. Things hop along & don't. I haven't figured out whether, where or when I'd like to "go back to school." Or what for. I'd like to study: xenharmonics, anthropology, world religions, philosophy, literature (James Joyce in particular), poetry, radical this-&-that. Hypothetically. Maybe in several different universes at th same time (that would make them "multiverses," wouldn't it?).

I'd also like to find my pineal gland & have a good long conversation w/ her.

So go my ways & dos, I guess. More or less. Or something.

ions: &ru