REtroSpective of the POrtland bike Ensemble [Duo] Japan

This modern translation was culled from a website about our gig in Nagoya at KD Japon. A tremendous space, hosted by a very gracious set of warm folks. I`m trying to upload this photo but the menus are all in Japanese. I`m studying. I really am. But I`m not sure if this will work. Will it work?

Here is the caption underneath the photo. I believe it was a personal commentary turned automatic by my automatic translation software:

《主語なし》It is the マイ bicycle that right that is always taking care of.

《主語なし》I attach, it the various points to and play and also rub and also strike a/the contact microphone and also with, of right of person whole body was been blamed gave the scream of a/the delight with the finger technology that my bicycle becomes splendid and.

《注意:一部解析不可能》《主語なし》I want to observe the アヴァンギャルド style of playing of a/the gamelan wITH it was enjoyable オモロ. 《主語なし》It is although I go な that be loss.

《主語なし》Besides, while accumulating a/the beat present heirakuG, "the noise=noise" that cause a/the アザ- world taken out grieve over was colored" the setting sun, voice of the sound that were cleared to "funniness furthermore, novelist David Moscovich, of the Fukuoka residing that causes to a weird 電 consonant converted the sharpening that I am able to cause to notice that they were wrong translation of a/the ロックン roller Takeno 恭 chapter 4 sets appear on the stage.

The Computer Has Stolen the Author`s Computer, and Replaced it with Another Computer

I am in this place for 18 months with a/the trial [a/the test] no. There is not a charge [charging]. I hope that is more good to not know where you are, although I can write a/the letter to you. 《主語なし》It is damp dust っぽ and be a place. When as for a/the floor I tried that is getting wet almost and the time a/the window threshold [a/the foundation] is cleaned I can not overcome dust [the powder] to see a/the stone. From when those strip off me and water is splashed to me I am mastering this surrounding ぼろ of a/the waist. When my clothes are burnt those caused me seen.
I am in solitary cell imprisonment for 2 weeks. If I am lucky I do 1 nap about only 1st. But it is if I can meet you.
It is once only. I can not sit and my calf [the calf] is becoming numb for 100 years. Sometimes the neck 脊 vertebra is pushed among 2 notched wall and I awake. When it struck a/the hand brake like a/the subway train a/the spark scatters and my foot is the steel ball with bearing no. When I entered those took my turban.
Most of the watches, think that I am a Muslim. Me those are person 汚な that wound me on "a/the turban and" つ call saliva and pushed me to the knee that I am bleeding. Now I am in these 4 x 5 of cells [a cell]. 《主語なし》Or is it 3 x 4? It is a dream to extend my foot completely and the world is a dream and the freedom is a nightmare.
The thought of the sleep is disquieting. 《主語なし》It is the tin [the can] that Man that the watch has ドロシー and human being cause armed. 《主語なし》Because I have hope well I am I of a/the human being. Wish that those are my Kali but a/the rat revolves in a bigger corral and be correct. My Kali is sole real comfortable and those vomit and call I take her instead of] the one that [threw up breakfast. It comes to good from day to day merely.
A/the watch was when able to make it with a/the call girl.
There is the condom of a used sometimes in a/the plate [a/the figure]. Those call it a/the vegetable side. "There is your excessive vegetable side here" say they. Now I have 10th to solitary cell imprisonment furthermore.
It is for to almost talk. With, the smile of the weather forecast government agency that I saw that a/the tiger is bleeding from) the blood curve eye [a/the turn/direction conversion] into God and others who are changing a/the turn [direction conversion] to a/the soldier and soldiers into (the weather forecast government agency on God and television the hip in this hell, I see how his smile is stolen from him and be arranged again in a/the PR office and was returned in the face [the surface] for a/the television. He does not know that is the place where, are broadcasting from Texas in somewhere but those lose electricity. 《主語なし》When it breaks out it is no warning. All are a black man and become vacant at night and quit that my foot bleeds and I meet you. And as for you, it give the sole comfort that I am requiring to me really, without smiling.

I`m IN... I`ve broken into the David Moscovich blog.

私は裁判〔試験〕なしでの18ヶ月の間この場所の中にいます。 料金〔充電〕はありません。 私は、あなたに手紙を書くことができるが、あなたがどこにいるか知らないのがより良いことを願います。 湿っぽいほこりっぽい場所です。 床はその時のほとんどぬれていて、ウィンドウ敷居〔土台〕をきれいにすることを試みた時私は石を見るためにほこり〔粉末〕を切り抜けることができません。 それらが私をはぎ取って、私に水をかけた時から、私はウェストの周りのこのぼろを身に付けています。 私の衣服を焼いた時、それらは私を見させました。
私は2週間の間独房監禁の中にいます。 もし運がよければ、私はわずかの1日につき1つの昼寝をします。 ただ私があなたに会うことができれば.
たった一度. 私は座ることができなくて、私の子牛〔ふくらはぎ〕は100年の間しびれています。 時々首脊椎骨がぎざぎざの2個の壁の間で押されて私は、目覚めます。 地下鉄列車のようにサイドブレーキを打った時火花が散って、私の足はベアリングなしでの鋼鉄ボールです。 私が入った時、それらは私のターバンを取りました。
見張りのほとんどが、私がイスラム教徒であると思います。 それらが私を私の上の「ターバンを巻いた人汚ないやつ」つばと呼んで、私の出血している膝に私を押しました。 今私はこの4 x 5のセル〔細胞〕の中にいます。 あるいは3 x 4ですか? 完全に私の脚を伸ばすことは夢で、世界は夢で、自由は悪夢です。
睡眠の考えは不穏です。 見張りは、ドロシーと人間を持つManが武装させるスズ〔缶〕です。 まあ私が希望を持っているので人間の私. それらは私のKaliであることを望んでいます、しかし、ネズミがより大きい檻で回って正しいです。 Kaliは私の唯一の真の安楽で、私はそれらが朝食と呼ぶ嘔吐〔吐いたもの〕の代わりに彼女を連れて行きます。それはただ良い日々に来ます。
プレート〔図〕に時々中古のコンドームがあります。 それらはそれを野菜側と呼びます。 「ここにあなたの余分な野菜側はあります」と彼らは言います。 今私は独房監禁に更に10日を持っています。
ほとんど話しますのために。 この地獄で、私がトラがヒップ(神とテレビの上の天気予報官の中に回転〔方向転換〕を兵士と兵士たちに変えている神たちの中に血曲がり目〔回転/方向転換〕)から出血しているのを見た 天気予報官の微笑で、私は彼の微笑がどのように彼から盗まれて、ピーアールオフィスで整え直されて、テレビのための顔〔表面〕に戻って置かれたか見ます。 彼はどこかでテキサスから放送しています、しかし、それらが電気を失うところであることを知りません。 起こる時、警告なしであります。 全部が黒人で、夜は空いて、私の脚は出血するのをやめて、私はあなたに会います。 そしてあなたはほほえまないで、それは私に私が本当に必要としている唯一の安楽をくれます。
Late last fall I met with Raymond Federman in his San Diego home and had tuna salad sandwiches. That's just to impress you with how nonchalant our relationship is. It's not. He told me I had another ten years before I could call myself a writer. Hours later, as I was leaving he corrected himself and said, maybe five years. We work fast these days. He had just finished a round of golf when I stopped by. Is golf really played in rounds? I was touring with Portland Bike Ensemble and Spasmolodic Duo when I stopped by. We just played at The Smell, or we were about to play at The Smell, in Los Angeles. Or was it Il Corral? I can't remember. So this interview is my claim to fame. I hope it only lasts twelve minutes. Follow this link for a partial text rendition of the four hour interview recorded on a blue digital dictaphone. Raymond Federman, author of Journey To Chaos: Samuel Beckett's Early Fiction, which I am now re-reading. Author of Twofold Vibration, which I am about to re-read. Author of Smiles on Washington Square, which I recently re-read. I can shut up now. Raymond Federman: An Inner-View.

Shayne Bowden took us on a bike tour of Fukuoka Art Galleries. An English artist by the name of Ross Taylor was there. He said he had a hangover. I asked him what he drank. He said, a bottle of whiskey. To yourself? To myself. He didn't partake in the beer portion of the "beer and bicycle tour" of Fukuoka Art Galleries. Ross Taylor: exhibiting at Tetra Artspace in late November 2006. And a swell guy to eat Korean bibimba with. Good with metal chopsticks.

We stopped and Shayne recorded [with a trusty old handheld cassette dictaphone] the sound of steam escaping from a manhole in the warehouse district around hakata bay. The dictaphone had masking tape on the back. There were some guys in a Benz parked off the docks with the lights turned out and the engine on. A woman with a baby stroller walked by. The stroller was empty. It was midnight. Ross Taylor/Shayne Bowden Duo with Hand-Manipulation of Escaping Steam: Duo, 33 secs.

Not far from the covered manhole is the Sango Soko Exhibition Space where we caught a glimpse of hundreds of tiny babies marked with the kanji for "right" and "left", pictured above. Artist: Satsuki Masuda. On display until 10/15 2006. Other artists whose studio spaces I snuck into and whispered in a low, fluttery voice, "ostu kare sama": Chinami Oki, Keiichiro Terae, Takashi Jyono, Marie Yamada.

Shayne Bowdenは福岡画廊の自転車ツアーで私たちを連れて行きました。 ロス・テーラーの名前による英語のアーティストがそこにいました。 彼は二日酔いを持っていると言いました。 私は、彼に彼が何を飲んだか尋ねました。 彼が言って、1瓶のウィスキー。 自分に? 自分に. 彼は「福岡画廊のビール及び自転車ツアー」のビール部分に加わりませんでした。 ロス・テーラー: 2006年11月下旬にテトラArtspaceで展示します。 そして一緒に韓国のbibimbinを食べるべき増大男. 金属箸での善.

私たちは止まって、hakataがほえる辺りの倉庫地区のマンホールから逃げてShayneは[信頼できる古い携帯型のカセットdictaphoneで]蒸気の音を記録しました。 dictaphoneは後ろにマスキングテープを持っていました。 中に明かりでのドックから離れて駐車されているベンツが追い出した何人かの男がいた そして 続けてエンジン。 通り過ぎて歩かれている赤ん坊ベビーカー〔ぶらぶら歩く人〕をして女性. ベビーカー〔ぶらぶら歩く人〕は空っぽでした。 真夜中でした。 ロス・テーラー/Shayne Bowden デュオ、逃げている蒸気の手巧妙な取り扱い〔市場操作〕と一緒に: デュオ(33 secs).

決して覆われたマンホールでなく 私たちが何百人もの小さな赤ん坊の一瞥を与えたSango Sokokanjiで印を付けられる 「右」及び「左」(上で想像されている) アーティスト: 皐増田. 10/15の2006年までの展示で. そのスタジオが間隔を空けて配置する他のアーティスト 私 snuck 中に そして 「以下」と低いはためいている声、「おつ かれ さま」でささやいた Chinami Oki、Keiichiro Terae、Takashi Jyono、Marie Yamada..

[Monster Movie] LIVE at Riverside Tonight 10/4, Buddy

Photo; Shayne Bowden.


Shayne Bowden: Electronics, Noise

Kohki Hanada: Guitar

"Avan": Bass

Tsuneo Takei: Drums

"Noise on Groove"

対象濃縮液は臆病です: 男性のスラックス灰色、スーツ灰色、靴黒、建設〔勃起〕としての床から離れて上げられた靴の先. 舌平目〔足の裏〕が植えました。 均等に座っています。 均等にまばたきしないです。 正しく本当に黄色い茶色の疱瘡(2つ)の皮を剥いでください腕。 指太ももの上の不動の置かれたスチール写真。 まばたきか息のサインはありません。 アイリス〔虹彩〕の静けさ、生徒がくっつきました。 1ポイントの上述のウィンドウ〔窓〕. 集中. 軽く置かれた指は不動です。 目は不動です。 まばたきしないです。 外れています。 考え. 殺人? 今朝. 午前6時30分 計画すべき濃縮液. 不安を除くために集中してください。 殺人. 不動の3分. 4分は同じです。 10分は同じです。 15分は不動です。 同じです。 位置づけられた指. 靴の先はわずかにまっすぐです。 Headは不動です。 よりもっとキスしてください。 まばたきはありません。 アイリス〔虹彩〕はありません。 唇は閉まっていて、静かで、ぴしゃりと打たれています。 上述のウィンドウ〔窓〕を向けてください。 発砲〔シュート〕. 朝の発砲〔シュート〕. 午前6時30分 15分は不動です。 16分は不動です。 不動が増加して同じです。 ためらいは同じではありません。 Pockはひじライン〔回線〕の上の右腕に跡を付けます。 まばたきはありません。 目動きはありません。 考え? 殺人. いつ. いつ、いいえためらいで. そうしてください。 止まることはありません。 移動はありません。 20分は同じです。 無垢です。 黒い靴(わずかにまっすぐなトップ). トップに触れません。 を除いて 対称の を除いて。 指から左よりさらに間隔を空けて配置された右の親指. まだくつろいでいます。 保証されませんでした。 を除いて くつろいでいる。 妻はいません。 殺人. 濃縮液包丁あるいは.38。 同じです。

Catalyst + [Yuji Maruyama Wall Paintings] +Maruyama/Moscovich live: Common Laughing Point

10/8 [sun] にちようび --- 10/15 [sun] にちようび
at LOVE GALLERY open 12:00-20:00 closed thursday

10/8 [sun] 20:00Opening Party w/ Common Laughing Point [Yuji Maruyama and David Moscovich]

昨夜Maruと私はリハーサルを持っていました。 通りの素晴らしい灰色のほこり建設の 明るい オレンジ である 円錐 上 入ること 真夜中のスタジオの 及び 私が姿を現わした 内で得る。 私 " 何だったのか分かっていないm スタジオでのそれが起こった、しかし、それがとてもフィードバックと、Maruの1周のサイズの2レトロ80年代Casiotonesが必要でなければならなかった。 彼はたくさんのペダルを持っていました。 彼はペダルの中にCasiotonesを輪にされました。 彼はアンプを変え続けました。 彼は、接着剤を刺激している金を眼鏡に課しました。 彼はマイクロホンの中への言語の私の種類を話しながら途中で天井〔上限〕に飛びました。 英語ではありませんでした。 私たちは、ピッチが移した話とデジタルのテープループを通る共鳴を交換しました。 私たちは、その頻度〔周波数〕がアップライトピアノの後ろで隠れているのを見つけたかもしれません。 私はサングラスと三角のおにぎりを失いました。 ミニマリズムではありませんでした。

Last night Maru and I had a rehearsal. I showed up in the studio at midnight, stepping over the bright orange cones and fine grey dust construction on the street to get inside. I"m not sure what it was that transpired in the studio, but it had a lot to do with feedback, and Maru's two lap-sized retro 80's Casiotones. He had a lot of pedals. He had the Casiotones looped into the pedals. He kept switching amplifiers. He put gold sparking glue on his glasses. He jumped halfway to the ceiling while speaking my kind of language into the microphone. It wasn't English. We swapped stories pitch shifted and resonating through a digital tape loop. We may have found that frequency hiding behind the upright piano. I lost my sunglasses and a triangular riceball. It wasn't minimalism.

OPEN Painting and Drawing with Yuji Maruyama 10/1---10/7 at

LOVE GALLERY is near the Hakata Riverain and Reisen Park just south of the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum. The phone number is 092-9846-6792.

Animals. Dadaist Knife Attacks on Unsuspecting Italian Cuisine. いみ わからない. わたしも. まだ わからない. もちろん. なに? わから. もちろん わから. わたしも. えええ? だれ?

Video: Matt Fraser. Video transfer: Matt Fraser, David Moscovich. Video distortion and recapitulation as pixelated blur: Unknown.
And while we are on the subject of computer reiterrations in music... here is something from the DM catalogue.
The first line here is BM is for beautiful moment. [Thank you, Shane Schneider.]

It's Like a Phillip K. Dick Nightmare Come to Life.
Luke McGowan
Robo Ursonate

Robo Ursonate is a speech-synthesis program interpretation of Kurt Schwitters' classic sound poem Ursonate (1921-32).

Lost Frog Productionsis a Tokyo-based music collective that hosts mp3 records free for download. As stated on the site, Lost Frog Productions has released great artists from all over the world, including such artists as :

Animals Within Animals, Atsushi Tsuyama (Omoidehatoba), Autopsy Protocol, Avarus, Big City Orchestra, Boy In Love, Colon On The Cob, Cotton Museum, Crossbred, Death Karaokes, Decaer Pinga, Edith Bunker's Demonized Vomit Insurance, Empty Head, ENE, Ethnic Cowboyz, Eye Yamatsuka (Boredoms), Five Starcle Men, Fossil Fuel, Glands Of External Secretion, Hard Core Dude, Jud Jud, Kamp Chaos, Kingdom Scum, Kwik Way, Le Gun, Masahiko Ohno (Solmania), Monastat 7, MU, Panicsville, Pete Missing (Missing Foundation), Prehensile Monkeytailed Skink, Punku Boi, R. Stevie Moore, Schlitzkrieg, Scream Club, Slop Cake, Smack Music 7 , Sockeye, Surfers Of Romantica, Terror At The Opera, That One Band, T.R.O.Y., Ultra Fuckers, Volkswhale, Wonwons, World Targets In Megadeaths, and many more.


Keita Egami

I had the fortuitous chance to meet prolific installation artist Keita Egami late last night at the IAF Shop in Fukuoka, an important gallery space which hosts openings for local and nationwide artists on a regular basis and also serves as a resource for upcoming artists. He is a long-time resident of Fukuoka, and his work has been shown all over Japan and Europe. He has designed CD covers for
Noise Artist-Guitarist Otomo Yoshihide[Improvised Music From Japan] and I.S.O [Otomo Yoshihide, Sachiko M and Yoshimitsu Ichiraku][Improvised Music From Japan]and also created installation art for the performances of Otomo Yoshihide's Japanorama UK tour. He has a permanent exhibition of tilework on the river walkway near Nakasukawabata station in central Fukuoka, as well as a sculpture at the Fukuoka City Art Museum in Ohori-Koen. This October, his work will be shown at the Frieze Art Fairin London.

I perused through a copy of
Artist in Fukuoka in the 21st Century Vol.4 EGAMI Keita Utopian Melancholia
, trying to subvert the limits of photography to imagine the size and breadth of his installations.
Size and b r e a d t h

全体のcoffeetable覆うふくらんでいる黄色いクラッカーの広大な袋がある。 50か60のそれぞれ包まれた袋がなければならない 推定35から40のふくらんでいる黄色いクラッカーを中含んでいるそれぞれ。 約分散する空のふくらんでいる黄色いクラッカー袋がある 質への遺言。これはだれのアートワークであるか。
A note on set and setting that can’t be overlooked:
There’s an immense bag of puffy yellow crackers covering the entire coffeetable. There must be fifty or sixty individually wrapped bags inside the immense bag, each containing an estimated thirty-five to fourty puffy yellow crackers. There are empty puffy yellow cracker bags scattered about, a testament to their quality. Whose work is this?

I ask him if he would allow me to do an interview. I show him the blue dictaphone so he knows I’m serious.

He says that would be alright. But hold on. This isn’t the interview yet. Shayne Bowden will have to be there to interpret. And ask questions. And answer questions. A noise musician, one of the founders of Tetra Artspaceand longtime resident of Fukuoka. He’s going to answer some of my questions. It might be a double interview, but that will have to be my little secret. The thing to do is to get the two of them together in a room, alone, press record and walk away. There will be a stack of flash cards on the table before them, each with a single word. The object of the game is to steer the conversation in that direction. Or away from that direction. Or ignore it completely and hang from the ceiling by our fingernails, pronouncing the end of the end, at the end of the night. The object of the game may be to ignore the game completely. Journey to the End of the Night. The first word in the set I can tell you right now what it will be -- Stockhausen.

これはまだインタビューでない。 Shayne Bowdenは解釈しなければそこにあることをならない。 そして質問をしなさい。 そして答えの質問。 騒音の音楽家、 福岡のArtspace Tetra長い間の居住者の創設者の1人。 彼は私の質問のいくつかに答えようとしている。 それは二重インタビューであるかもしれない しかしそれは私の小さい秘密でなければならない。 するべき事は部屋でそれらの2を一緒に得ることである 単独で、 出版物の記録および去。 それらの前にテーブルのフラッシュカードの積み重ねがある、 単語とのそれぞれ。ゲームの目的はその方向の会話を操縦することである。 またはその方向から。 またはそれを完全に無視し、天井から私達の指の爪によって掛けなさい、 端の端を発音する、 夜の終わりに。 ゲームの目的はゲームを完全に無視することであるかもしれない。 夜の終わりへの旅行。 セットの最初の単語私はそれがであるもの今言ってもいい -- Stockhausen。 私がStockhausenについてのあなたに話したいと思うKeita Egami。
The topic shifts to music, contemporary music. He lists John Cage as one of his major influences. He prefers the American contemporary composers to the Europeans. Why? What about Stockhausen? No. No? No. No? No. This is going to be a point of contention. It’s my new goal in life – to convince Egami Keita of the beauty of Stockhausen. What about Pierre Henry? Yes, Pierre Henry. We’re listening to a release from Alchemy records. Who is it? I forget. What does it sound like? Ruffled mirrors, cellophane cafeteria lunch attack. Test tube broccolli. The topic shifts to Otomo Yoshihide. Ornette Coleman. Bela Bartok. They may be obvious links of attraction, but I feel nonetheless it forms a strong bridge between us, as my sorry Latin ass struggles with the language. Struggle. A handicap. Nearly illiterate. Latin ass. Sorry Latin ass. It’s like the tiled room with the red curtains in Fire Walk With Me. Every goddamn day it’s the talking midget. Sometimes when I’m feeling lucky and I’ve had enough whiskey there are splotches, brief moments where I fall under the illusion that I can understand. But I can’t understand. I’d like to understand. Keita Egami I want to talk to you about Stockhausen.

Stereotypography. A Bilingual Pornography in Stereo.

(((((((((やーやだもいちどそうして)))))) ((((((もんでもんで)) ))))(((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))(((((((oo)))))))(((((())))))))))))))
(())(())(())((((Softer candycandy))))(())(())((((()))))((((()))))((()))Deepercandycandy(())(())
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((ooo))))))))))))))))))) ((((((((((((((とてもいい))) ))))))))(((((((((((o))))))))(((((((())))))( (((やばいけど))) ))))))((((((())))))))))))))))))))(((((((())))))))(()))(((())))))((((())))))))((()))))((((o))))))(((ooo)))))))(((()))))))((((((((かんで))))))))(((((((やーやだ))))))(((((o))))(((((( (((かんで))))) )))((((((((((()))))((((()))))))AG More and more(((((())))((()))((())))((()))((()))((())))AG Do the same thing again((((((()))))))((()))((()))(((((())))))((()))JM)(((((How do you))) want me to (((((do it?)))))((()))((()))((()))(((()))((()))(((())))))))(((((((())))))))((((((()))))))(((((((((((((())))))))(((((0))))))))))((((())))))((((((((((((()))))((((((( (((すきだけど))))))))))) ((((((oo)))))))))))))))(((((((((((()))))) (((((もういっかい)))))) ))))))))))))((((ooo))))))))))(((((((((())))))))))))))))((((())))))(((()))))))(((())))))))))))))((((()))))))))(((())))))))))(((((((00000))))))))))( (どなふうにしてほし)))))) ))))))))((((((((())))))))))))))(((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))(((((((just do what you do))))))))))))(((((((((())))))(((((())))))))((((((do you need instructions))))))))(((())))))))))))))) ((((((((((((do it in))))))))))))))))) (((((((((((((((かんで)))))))) (((((((やーやだ))))) )(((((o))))((((o))))((((o))) ((((もんでもんで)))))) (((o)))(((((((((o))))))))))(((((((((o))))))))))))((o))((o))((o))))))(((((((o))))))))(((((o)))))))((o))))) (((((((やだ))))))) (((もすこし))))))) ((((()))))))((((o)))))))(((((o))))(((((かんで))))))())) (((((())))))(((((())))) (((((もっとゆっくり)))))) ((((((((((())))))))))))(((((((((((()))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((()))))))( (きもちいい))))))(((きむち)))) (())(())))((((oo)))))))))) (((((もっ))))))))))( ((もっと))))((((もっと))))())) ((((((すごくいい)))))()))))))))(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))((())))((())))((())))((()))(()))(())(((())))))))(((((((((())))))))(((()))))(((stereo))))((((())))((())))))((((((()))))))((((triple threat))))))
((((((((()))))))))(((tongue mouth and two fingers in different)))))))))((()))(()))((()))((()))(())
(((()))))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))((((if you know)))((())(((()))) (((()))))))(())))((((mean)))))))((((((((()))))))))))))))))(((((((((()))))))))))((((((((()))))))))(((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((())))))))))))(((()))))((((((((()))))))))))(((())))) ((((いいね)))))))))) ((((()))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))) )((((つよいい)))))))) (((())))))))((())))))(((((()))))(((())))((())))((((()))))(((((((())))))))))(((((()))))))(())))))))(((())))(((())))(((())))(((())))((()))((()))((()))((()))((()))((()))((()))(())((((((())))))))(((((((((((((()))))))))))))))) (((((いくいくいくいく))))))) ((((((((((((()))))))))))((((((((())))))))(((())))((())))((()))((()))((()))))))(((((((
彼女は私を上下に見る、 そして私はない非難する、 私の建設で笑い、指す開始 陰茎の頭部からの2インチ。 彼女はカバー彼女の開いた口である、 ヒステリー、 混乱した、 彼女は立つ、 ヘリウムの方言の喋り散らすエフェドリンの日本語、 しわがれた声でしゃべること、 不均衡。 彼女は彼女の財布を見つけるために揺れるようである 彼女の腹の把握。 これは私達の関係の深刻な障壁であることができる。
dusky絶望によって克服される、 それは犬のしっぽに彼女が彼女の肩上の財布を投げ、壁に彼女の肘をたたくと同時に縮まる、 懸命に。 彼女は子犬のほえ声を放ち、本能的に摩擦する、 しかし彼女は私再度および笑い声がtatamiマットに彼女を投げることを見る。 彼女の体を作るこの非道の笑い声は痙攣もがき。 私は決してこのような笑い声を前に憎んだあらないことは。 性交の笑い声。 性交の喜劇。 私は反抗的なchiを有する、 彼女は言う、 時々私はそれを制御できない。 しかし今。 これは私がそれが陽気なすべてに端を置く不健康な衝動または突然軽薄の渇きを感じた時最初にある。 私は物質を懇願している。 重さ。 姦通。 Skank.

私のやしは発汗している。 私は決してこれを前にしたあらないことは。 私は何をしているか。 売春婦配達か。 これは私ではない。 これは実際に私ではない。 そして今、 売春斡旋業者は現れる。 彼は何かについて怒っていた。 多分私は感謝する言うことを忘れていた、 私はimpolite形態を使用した。 多分彼に銃がある、 彼は私に文法レッスンを与えようとしている。 多分彼に2挺の銃がある、 丁寧な形態のための1つおよびimpoliteのための1 -- 最もよい教師は頻繁に非正統的な方法を使用する。 彼はドアにある。 私は保護を必要とする。 私は出口を必要とする。

私はそれが誤ったアドレスであることを彼に言う-彼が間違った床を持っていることを私は彼に言う。 私は上りの上記からの電話を聞いた。 私は人が締まることを望む、 彼は売春婦配達を常に発注している。 皆は彼を憎む、 彼は離婚した、 彼は売春婦oholicである。 ドアベルは再度鳴る。 たわごと。 私は包丁を強迫的につかむ、 それを私の背部の後ろに置き、私の左とノブを回しなさい。 私のやしはほとんど滴っている。 私はキラーになることを約ある。 多分2人がある、 2挺の銃とのそれぞれ。
彼女は多分価値がある。 無光沢のonegaishimasu、 私はドアを通って言う。

それは私をそれをするために推進する赤いユニフォームの最初のフラッシュ-明るく赤い帽子である。 それらはなぜそれらの帽子を身に着けなければならないか。 すぐに私は過激なreactionismにころぶ-ナイフはまっすぐ出て来、ピザソースおよびどこでも緑コショウがある、 それは盲目の激怒である、 それは美しい、 それは無意味である。 彼はピザを落とし、私はそれを7か8回刺す、 急速火モードでは、 熱く赤いビニールのファスナーを開け、具体的な着陸の何もかも全部を空けなさい、 私は刺し続ける 一度に一つ、 十分に把握した私がしているものをを今ただ。人は彼がtaseredあったように行動する、 反対の壁に対する背部、 彼の携帯電話のための範囲。 それは邪悪な死者からの場面のようである、 邪悪な死者があったらdadaistのナイフを特色にしたテレビの連続番組はなにも疑わないイタリアの料理で攻撃する。 それは素晴らしい解放である、 私の欲求不満のすばらしい出国および貪欲およびパニックおよびglutton。 私は豪華な移民の気取りと殺害の喜劇および性的に機能である。 これは巨大である、 これは前例のない、 これは性能の芸術である。
人は階段のための気違いダッシュを作り、数秒間のうちに私はおおわれたwarcallのような何かを聞く, そしてオートバイの開始、 それから金切り音を疲れさせる。

私はこの1つを書くなる。 この1つは熱い行っている。 私は日本の自由のために食べることへのガイドの編集者にそれを送るなる。 私はそれらがまたはない興味を起こさせられれば気遣わない、 彼らはポストのそれを見つけようとしている。

My palms are sweating. I’ve never done this before. What am I doing? Whore delivery? This isn’t me. This really isn’t me. And now, the pimp shows up. He’s pissed about something. Maybe I forgot to say thank you, I used the impolite form. Maybe he has a gun, he’s going to give me a grammar lesson. Maybe he has two guns, one for the polite form and one for the impolite -– the best teachers often use unorthodox methods. He’s at the door. I need some protection. I need a way out. I’ll tell him it’s the wrong address – I’ll tell him he’s got the wrong floor. I heard the phone call from up above. I wish the guy would shut up, he’s always ordering whore delivery. Everyone hates him, he’s divorced, he’s a whore-oholic. The doorbell rings again. Shit. I grab a kitchen knife compulsively, put it behind my back and turn the knob with my left. My palms are almost dripping. I’m about to become a killer. Maybe there are two men, each with two guns.

Maybe she’s worth it.

Matte onegaishimasu, I say through the door.

It’s the initial flash of the red uniform that propels me do it – the bright red hat. Why do they have to wear those hats? Immediately I fall into a rabid reactionism – the knife comes straight out and there’s pizza sauce and green peppers everywhere, it’s blind rage, it’s beautiful, it’s nonsensical. He drops the pizza and I stab it seven or eight times, in rapid-fire mode, unzip the hot red vinyl and empty the whole thing on the concrete landing, I keep stabbing, one piece at a time, only now fully aware of what I’m doing. The guy acts like he’s been tasered, backs against the opposing wall, reaches for his cellphone. It’s like a scene from Evil Dead, if Evil Dead were a television series that featured dadaist knife attacks on unsuspecting Italian cuisine. It’s a fantastic release, a superb exodus of my frustration and greed and panic and glutton. I’m killing comedy and acting out sexually with spectacular immigrant panache. This is stupendous, this is unprecedented, this is performance art.

The guy makes a mad dash for the stairs and in a few seconds I hear something like a muffled warcall, then a motorcycle starting, then tires screeching.

I’ve got to write this one down. This one is going to be hot. I’ve got to send it to the editors of The Guide to Eating for Free in Japan. I don’t care if they’re interested or not, they’re going to find it in the mailbox.

Rejection Rejection Rejection

Hey David.
Thanks for submitting this story.
I apologize for the delay in response but I am going to pass on it.

It seemed more a
catalog of eccentrics than an actual story.

- Wells Oliver, Pindeldyboz

Sitting in a Boxcar With The Baghavad-Gita, A Playboy Magazine and a Corncob Pipe: An Interview with Shane Schneider

The fine editors at
  • have decided to run an interview with Shane Schneider --- also known as Shane Ronet --- as dubbed by Mr. Tim Durouche --- but that's all in the story, or interview, rather, covering topics like the womb, Dave Brubeck, and Shane's mysterious family connection with Ulysses S. Grant, or was it James Joyce's Ulysses?

    I can't seem to recall.

    You'll just have to
  • see for yourself.
  • New Favorite T-Shirt Design This is For Real A Girl Was Wearing This on an Escalator and I Think She Might Wear it Other Places

    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime
    the girl is so danger
    play a trick anytime

    Unlimited Limited (111 COPIES) Limited Unlimited

    There isn’t much time.

    Several attempts on his life already – Colt .45, carbomb, mad mother with empty baby stroller bowie knife attack on steel bridge, sharptooth blowjob. Time to head for the hills. Change cellphone, register in false Russian name. Must finish quickly, finish final draft, get to printer immediately, immediately. He stops. He has to rewrite the sentence.

    I need to get out and get a burrito. He throws on the green corduroy and drives down the hill and into the city. It’s getting dark, already. He finds a parking spot immediately in front of his favorite Mexican spot. He sees Pixie Storm walk up to the joint in his leather jacket, big beard and pointy glasses. Pixie, he shouts. Hey, I was just going to get a burrito. What? Me too. They embrace. They walk in together, as if they had planned it from the start. They order then sit down next to the window by the ATM. Two dollars they would charge me to use this thing, he remarks, on top of what my bank would charge me. That’s three-fifty per transaction. Fucking criminals. These people are criminals. Order number seventy-six? Devin runs up to the counter, and sits back down. Where’s the chili? Green chili? Devin looks over at the ATM and remarks on its flimsiness. It would be so easy to just grab one of these things, and take off with it in a truck. It’s like a small refrigerator. Cheap construction. You know, I had a friend, Pixie says, who was in the hospital with a bleeding finger. He looked down the hall and noticed there was an ATM there. Then he remembered he had a screwdriver in his bag. So he goes down the hall, there’s nobody there, he pries the thing open and sees the stacks of twenties inside. He rushes home, grabs a couple of garbage bags, gets back to the hospital and starts piling the money in the bags. He’s thinking about buying a ticket to Tahiti, sit on the beach, drink a martini, when five security guards rush in and arrest him. He shouldn’t have waited so long, Devin says. Right, that was his mistake, says Pixie, and he stretches out his legs kicking the ATM door. Holy shit. Devin. He leans over the table and whispers to Devin, the door to the ATM is wide open. Devin raises his eyebrows, and looks over his right shoulder. He can see it’s cracked open, he can see a few stacks of bills. How many, it’s hard to say. But he sees a very thick stack resting on a metal shelf. He looks back at Pixie. Pixie looks at him. He can't believe it. That kind of synchronicity gives him instant vertigo. It’s as if they planned it from the start. And to think, you were just telling that story, just now, he says. I know, I know. Devin gets up to order a to-go burrito for Dana. He’s on his way to the airport. No, no. He needed a break from his writing. That’s what he writes. He needed a break from the writing, and he just remembered he agreed to get Dana at two-thirty. Then he runs into Pixie, at the burrito shop, and they discover the ATM is wide open. I’m still not totally convinced it’s open, Pixie says, I can’t believe it. If you could see it from this angle, you could see just how open it is, says Devin. They laugh about it. They laugh about how easy it would be to take the money, the door would swing open far below the counter, no one would notice, but they would have to wait until it’s slow. When no one else was around. It would be the world’s simplest robbery. But they couldn’t do it. Of course not. The risk is too great. It’s just begging for us to do it, it’s completely unlocked. They’re driving to the airport to pick her up. I could write a chapbook entitled, Thirty-three Convoluted Solutions For the World’s Simplest Robbery, he says. It would detail the scenario, two guys in a burrito shop stumble on the perfect crime. But instead, they plan all kinds of tricky ways to pull it off, none of which would work. Like one of them has amazing pectoral muscles, he would just pull the ATM out of the wall and burst through the glass, then drive away in a truck without changing the plates. Or he would throw the ATM through the glass, and of course the ATM would be open, spilling the bills all over the street. Or they would see that the ATM is open, then burrow in from underneath with high-powered chainsaws, during the lunchtime rush. This is going to be the premise for my new book. I’m telling you, this one is going to be good. Maybe not a bestseller, but who cares. Anyway, we’ll be rich. No, no. I’m not really thinking about it. Not seriously. Are you? He looks over at Pixie. He shakes his head. Yes, I am thinking about it. Are you kidding? But no, not seriously. Not really. I’m just playing with the idea. It’s too easy to get caught, and anyway it’s probably only a few thousand bucks. But the fact that we were talking about it, then it happened to be open, is amazing. Yes, Devin agrees. Truly suspicious. No, I’ve got it. So, the character that plays me in the book, right, he gets really paranoid. Say they’re driving to the airport. And they start talking about these various scenarios, and he gets to thinking that someone wants to frame him for a crime he doesn’t commit. He knows he left his prints on the bathroom door, for example, and he flips out. Then I would have to kill you, says Pixie. No, he would tie you up and leave you in the car, in plain view. Then he decides to go back to the place, just to make sure no one else notices the open door, and robs the place – he thinks they would pin the blame on him. So he parks in front of the building, and watches from across the street. Or better yet, he goes in and orders another burrito while you’re tied up in the car. He brings a book. He sits there with his book until closing time, that’s his plan. Just to make sure nobody robs the place. But he can’t stand it. He starts calling all his friends, every fifteen minutes, leaving messages on answering machines, saying I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it. Then he rationalizes it in his mind, somehow, because he’s a little crazy, like me, you know, he hears voices. He figures he’s going to get caught and framed for something he didn’t do so he might as well do it. Logic has a way of swirling around in your head and coming up twisted when you’ve got time to think.

    Geometry of the Novel Spread Before Him on the Walls of His One Room

    Tokyo Tokai district Ambulance Ride

    Riding on patient’s shoulders

    In a wheelchair

    Giving advice on [foot massage] when the
    Ambulance topples a bride outside flower shop

    Bride carried a fingernail-sized soup ladle in her panties -- kanji for “white” etched on the handle

    Delivered by cellphone text messages

    When narrator realizes the Bride is his wife

    For Marianne Hauser

    6/24/2006 6:34 PM


    For Marianne Hauser

    As we old bums [you & me & your mom & the other bum in peeoria] contemplate what appears to others to be vieillesse ou vieilles fesses as we admire [with a touch of disdain] our own amazing present mental agility [and virility too] as we delight in the fact that we are becoming so good [so dexterous] so much better with words as we get older [perhaps even wiser in spite of the cliche] as we listen [especially at night] to those protracted echoes of the void [excuse the terminal lyricism] but without asking [as in days of youth] whence the original sound [I almost said original sin] came [sometimes unwanted] as we contemplate the landscape of words we designed and left behind us [not without pain] yes as we contemplate the not too distant moment when we will have to change tense [inevitably so] we wonder [often aloud] how the hell have we managed to come this far [to do that much] with words [words words our whole life was but a pell mell babel of words] and look oh look how they fall in place now so easily so quietly our words as they say [or fail to say] what they want to say before crumbling into the great void [excuse the romantic agony] alright crumbling into the motherfucking abyss of forgetfulness

    Raymond Federman

    NOW PLAYING: Glenn Weyant's
  • America Waits

  • Glenn Weyant
  • is a strange attractor. Glenn Weyant, Emily Conradson and I started a free-improvising noise ensemble in called Prepping Finger Salad, back in 2001. But that's another story, better left for another time.

    Glenn's latest projects include an amalgamation of solo recordings compiled and multitracked by Glenn using his patented
  • Tucson Noizesound Blender
  • .

    The Anta Project-- a term he applies towards his twenty-year span of musical ranting, saxophoning, audiophiling, experimenting, collaborating and guerrilla chaotic digital audio superimposition -- this time utilizing the U.S./Mexico border -- I mean to say, the fence itself, as an instument of musical rapture -- in Glenn's words: The Anta Project is an enhanced sound collage compiled from covert performances utilizing modified chop sticks and a cello bow to play the steel wall, barbed wire fences and assorted ephemera that separates the United States from Mexico in the Sonoran Desert.

    Maybe through listening to how the border is "played" we can learn how to prevent the hideous loss of lives due to the needless seige on the Mexican immigrant -- America is, after all, a nation of immigrants -- what is the sound of three men dying of dehydration because the Border Patrol decided to remove a watertank -- cuts down on immigration -- what is the sound of --

  • SonicAnta
  • Bloomsday Again. Excerpt from Ulysses: Proteus. Scene: The Strand. 11 A.M. Art: Philology. Color: Green. Symbol: Tide. Technique: Monologue (Male).

    It's Bloomsday again, and so a reading of Ulysses is in order -- I was on the phone with Whitney Woolf tonight and read her some selections -- she was working on this painting, er chalk drawing when I called --

    After reading the above, Whitney emailed me with an update:

    looks good...and uh its paint and pencil....and my last name is woolf....nice try though, wolfe.

    the bad irish was fine, you should teach in that voice....

    laptopsters of love,

    On 6/16/06, David Moscovich wrote:
    hey the blog is

    i put your painting up

    is it a paainting? or chalk or whatever?

    thanks for putting up with the bad irish accent its
    the only way to read joyce, escpeciialy FW or Ulysses

    loadsa love
    dm / "NORU"

    To see more of Whitney's art and photographs of Fukushima, Japan -- check
  • here.

  • And now, a short excerpt from one of my favorites in
  • Ulysses,
  • from the great master --- on this Bloomsday, June 16, 2006.

    Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.

    Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably. I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs, nebeneinander. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of Los demiurgos. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.

    Won't you come to Sandymount,
    Madeline the mare?
    Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. No, agallop: deline the mare.

    Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. Basta! I will see if I can see.

    See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end.

    They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the other's gamp poked in the beach. From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride Street. One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Creation from nothing. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one.

    Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. She had no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.

    Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten. By them, the man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath. They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. From before the ages He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A lex eterna stays about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring his life long on the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred heresiarch! In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of a widowed see, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts.

    Daily/Moscovich/Strahota Collaboration: What Larry McCaffery Calls the "FC2 Fight Song"

    Mike Daily's Note: Friends. I just discovered that our track, "The Life & Times of Major Fiction", is featured on the PDX POP NOW! website. We submitted the track for the 2006 Comp CD a few months ago. People can listen to it and vote for the artist, Daily Moscovich & Strahota. They streamlined our name by leaving out the comma between "Daily" and "Moscovich" and we're fine with that. We are fine with that. Please vote for Daily Moscovich & Strahota!

  • PDX Pop

  • *************************************************

    In October 2005, Daily, Moscovich & Strahota recorded "The Life & Times of Major Fiction"--an eight-minute banger referencing every
  • Fiction Collective/FC2
  • book published since 1974.

    Feedback on the Track:

    I tell you this is the beginning of something big.
    --Raymond Federman

    congrats on the fabulous fc2 fightsong!
    --Larry McCaffery

    Okay, I finally got onto a fast enough connection to listen to this rather than just read it like a poem--geesh!--the poem so doesn't do the song justice. You're a real renaissance man, Mike--so cool, but so slick as well; I mean really put together in a way I'd want to listen to just as music....
    --Steve Tomasula

    It wasn't working at first, it is now however!!! i took a listen that was wicked just awesome.
    i dig the beats.
    --Beki Clash

    Your collages of FC titles are wonderful, remind me of cadavres exquis of the surrealists. Would love to get a CD and hear your music.
    --Yuriy Tarnawsky

    mike, finally back at the computer to listen to the great Fiction
    Collective, FC2 rant. Not since Sinead O'Connor tore up the picture of
    the pope has anything so justifiably obtuse appeared. You should do a
    reggae version she does reggae now
    --Steve Katz

    I quite like it. It cranks.
    --Lily James



    FC2 is one of the few alternative presses in America devoted to publishing fiction considered by America's largest publishers too challenging, innovative, or heterodox for the commercial milieu.

  • Fiction Collective

  • *************************************************
    Daily WWWeblogs at
  • Mick O'Grady
  • ----------------------------------------------------------



    myspace (it's the new going out)
    --pecos B


    vote for Daily Moscovich & Strahota

    Inner-View Revisited (The Painted Word)

    Raymond Federman. Federman. Federman. Federman. Federman.

    This series of paintings were done in a Federfrenzy which broke my dot matrix printer. The text is taken from Federman's description of what this photographer put him through in France:

    This is this new magazine. The photographer that was sent by the magazine. He came to my hotel room in Paris, closed the curtains, moved the furniture, put me against a little stool in one curtain. He said, look. I don't photograph you to make you look better, I want to find what's inside you. And I tell you that's what he did - look what the finger is doing. He kept saying, open your eyes, because I want to get inside.

  • Glenn Weyant: America Waits

  • Glenn Weyant
  • is a strange attractor. Glenn Weyant, Emily Conradson and I started a free-improvising noise ensemble in called Prepping Finger Salad, back in 2001. But that's another story, better left for another time.

    Glenn's latest projects include an amalgamation of solo recordings compiled and multitracked by Glenn using his patented
  • Tucson Noizesound Blender
  • .

    The Anta Project-- a term he applies towards his twenty-year span of musical ranting, saxophoning, audiophiling, experimenting, collaborating and guerrilla chaotic digital audio superimposition -- this time utilizing the U.S./Mexico border -- I mean to say, the fence itself, as an instument of musical rapture -- in Glenn's words: The Anta Project is an enhanced sound collage compiled from covert performances utilizing modified chop sticks and a cello bow to play the steel wall, barbed wire fences and assorted ephemera that separates the United States from Mexico in the Sonoran Desert.

    Maybe through listening to how the border is "played" we can learn how to prevent the hideous loss of lives due to the needless seige on the Mexican immigrant -- America is, after all, a nation of immigrants -- what is the sound of three men dying of dehydration because the Border Patrol decided to remove a watertank -- cuts down on immigration -- what is the sound of --

  • SonicAnta
  • SIXES update... Oakland, CA Noise Phenomenon!

    Apr 29, 2006 2:21 PM
    Subject: WALPURGISNACHT TO 6-6-o6




    THURSDAY - 5 - 18 - 06
    8PM $7-$15 SLIDING


    |||||||||||HIVE MIND - CDRAHEIM - SIXES - CA TOUR|||||||||||

    TUESDAY - 6 - 6 - 6

    WEDNESDAY - 6 - 7 - 6
    LUNA'S CAFE - 1414 16th St. SACRAMENTO CA
    all ages 8PM $5 cover

    THORSDAY - 6 - 8 - 6 LA



    SATYRDAY - 6 - 10 - 6 SD

    1945: Hiroshima: 2005

    I’m on my way to school, I’m late, it’s beautiful, I’m chasing a dragonfly, it’s sunny, I’m happy to be chasing a dragonfly, I jump up to catch the dragonfly and ---- 8:15 am. I’m climbing in the trees, I’ve just run away from home, there’s a garden below, I can see an old woman sweeping, suddenly she glances skywards ----- 8:15 am. This is the first time we’ve made love in the morning, upon first waking, my lips find her neck, she sighs, reaches for the wall and ----- 8:15 am. Mr. Yamada walks into the shop, it’s good to see you again, Mr. Yamada, I say, trying not to reveal too much, a slow bow, a silent smile, onegai shimasu ----- 8:15 am. I ring the bell for the Aioi bridge, the streetcar comes to a stop, it’s crowded this morning, I start getting the hiccups and I step down onto the street ----- 8:15 am. What do you mean there was only one sound and the whole city is gone, that’s impossible. One sound? ---- 8:15 am. I was lifted off the ground, my feet were lifted, I landed maybe ten meters away, I looked around at the playground and there were bodies, then I noticed I was bleeding, the whole left side of my face had been charred ---- 8:15 am. Inside a cellar a collection of eighty-eight glass bottles are fused together in an instant, the entire neighborhood vanished, a powerful wind is feeding the fires ---- 8:15 am. Then I noticed my shirt was torn and my shoes were gone, burned, the soles of my feet burnt to black, I can’t stand up, I can’t stand up, I can’t ---- 8:15 am. The railroad tracks are twisting, burning, how is that solid iron can twist, the street is gaping open, a dungeon, a cauldron, the bridges are destroyed, the library behind me, my books, where are my books, my library, I don’t see a single wall left, where am I? ---- 8:15 am.

    Present day. Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. A walking tour. The Nuclear Age. The Nuclear Globe. A-Bombed Phoenix Trees. A-Bombed Eucalyptus Tree. Acute Effects. Lost hair, singed in clumps, her mother rescued the hair from her daughter’s body.

    I had just arrived off the train, checked into the hotel and started walking near the A-Bomb Dome, snapped a few pictures when I saw her looking out on the river, silent and still. She was wearing a purple sash, she was carrying red tulips and magnolias, a single dandelion.

    Aftereffects. 1000 paper cranes folded by Sadako in a hospital. The proverb is that folding 1000 cranes will make a wish come true. Hers the wish to live. The cranes are on display at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Glass display. Bent iron shutters. Belongings of Junior High students. Belongings, no students. Hat, bag, sewing notebook. Stained by black rain, no student. Glass display.

    We came around to talking about her friend, she was on her way to visit her friend in the hospital. It turned out he was Romanian. She wanted me to translate. I said first show me around. We walked to the tourist center.

    Iron girders. Damage by the conflagration. Found on the scorched plain. Arts and crafts neighborhood, military stronghold. Reluctant photographer, mid-morning. 355 meters from the hypocenter. Damage by the radiation. White wall stained by black rain. Backpack stained by black rain. Cloth bag stained by black rain. Tricycle. Tricycle. Burned rusty maroon, stained by black rain. Tricycle, no boy. Tricycle. 0.9 x 1.1 meters length, width. Lone tricycle. Glass display. Stained by black rain. Burned rusty maroon.

    I asked her if she had eaten yet. She said yes. I said, take me to the museum. She said yes. Everywhere I looked it was green, and golden, and I could feel something shift into the soft luminescence of Bergman in color.

    Damage by heat rays. Human shadow etched in stone. Shorts worn by Junior High student. No student. Shorts tattered, burned rusty maroon, stained by black rain. No student. Tricycle. 0.9 x 1.1 meters, length, width. No child. Black fingernails. Human shadow etched in stone. Stone. Stone. Stone. Rubble. Rubble and stone. Fingers. Etched in glass. Glass, a hundred bottles fused together.

    I agreed to go with her to the hospital. Her friend was ill, and anyway I had done some interpretation before. I fell into the professional thing. He had been having pains in his hands. Bones. Arms. Knees. I asked him if there was a large Romanian population in Hiroshima. He said he was reading a book, a lovestory about a married man who falls in love with a whore. It’s hard to explain, he said, but it’s exactly how I feel. Only the whore I’m in love with is the man I used to be. I tried to interpret this to the best of my ability, but something was lost between my translation of and her understanding.

    Black fingernails. Fingernails. Fingernails. Fingernails. No body. Body no. Black fingernails, no worker. No body. Work pants and chemise. No body. Roof tiles, fused, one lump. No house. August 6, 1945. 8:15 am. Hovering between Life and Death: Hiroshima. A poem by On Nakamura. Hiroshima in ruins.

    After we left the hospital we walked around the Nagarekawa district. The sign on the Pachinko building read GOD. It sparkled at night. What an electricity bill, that one. The GOD building. We were walking around the GOD building, the building that uses all the electricity known to man. She told me her story over Nihonshu and fresh oysters, in an oak hut overlooking the Otagawa river.

    Material witnesses. Pocket watch. Set at 8:15 am. No wrist. No arm. Glass display. Lunch box. Lunch not eaten. Inside lunch charred black. Reduced to carbon. Female student’s uniform. Glass display. No female. No student. Wooden sandal [geta]. No feet. No legs. No student. Lunch box. Lunch not eaten. Inside lunch charred black. Reduced to nothing. Water bottle. Wallet, school badge, company badge, sheet of tickets. Glass display. The Manhattan Project. Selection of Target Cities. Four target cities prohibition on carpet bombing in order to observe the effects of the A-Bomb.

    She wasn’t the kind of drinker that just puts them back, like some gruff cowboy. She wasn’t the kind of drinker who would just put them back indiscriminately. She drank with reserve. She was actually tasting the fermentation of the rice. Does it have a bite, I asked her in my best Japanese. My worst Japanese. Same thing. How does it sit on the tongue for you? I think she said. Surprisingly dark. Nihonshu is usually lighter, sweeter, crisper. This one has had some time to contemplate. It’s a local brew, she said. Most of these are from Kyushu, she said. This one’s from Hiroshima.

    Three planes sent to Hiroshima. One for photography. One for science. One for the bomb. The Enola Gay. Nakajima Area [Peace Memorial Park] before A-bombing. Model display. Hundreds of houses. Domestic life. Husband and wife, children. School, lovemaking, breakfast, lunch, dinner. Theatres. Plays. Films. Boys riding tricycles. Girls playing on swings. Protest telegrams, wall display. Hundreds of letters sent to nuclear states France, China, Russia, UK, United States, Pakistan. Hundreds of letters written in protest from Hiroshima city leaders. They hoped each one would be their last. A-Bomb Dome. Remains of Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall. Personal testimonies. Hundreds. Audio-visual.

    I think about calling her. I walk out of the hotel, she’s already there. She’s in a white dress, black boots, eyes calm, kind and forgiving, almost painful beauty, it’s sunny again, how did she know that I ----

    Fukuoka Rock: Suicide Disco. DJ For Hire. Fukuoka Rock.

    March 2006.
    Club Heartbeat, Tenjin.

    On the bill:
    SUICIDE DISCO[Fukuoka, Japan]

    DJ FOR HIRE [Fukuoka, Japan]

    Think smiling. Think Travolta, Nirvana, Stereolab, Laurie Anderson, Velvet Underground. Now Think Japan. Think funtime, smilingtime, sincere vocals and thoughtful composition. Think Tight: Suicide Disco

    Yamada Nikki/Guitar and Vocals.

    Hitotse Nikki/Bass.

    When I asked Yamada for a history of the band, this is how he replied:

    "First, the band was formed in 2004 as 'Revenge of Flowers,' by three people [Yamada: Guitar & Vocals, Hitotse: Bass, Noggie: Keys & Vocals]. Noggie left the band in February of 2005. After getting then quickly losing a new drummer, Yamada and Hitotse felt it was time to change the project. They formed Suicide Disco, and selected the genre of dance rock that was different from their style at the time.

    SUICIDE DISCO: Yamada."

    Favorite Japanese Product Slogans

    Toilet Paper: "Smart looking, with clean and funtional styling."

    3-Ring Binder: "Beating of my soul never stop. Because I love everything!"

    Calendar: "Let's eat fruits fresh from the fields. Because it is so healthy, sweet, juicy and delicious!"

    Pink Stationary: "How many do you know the beautiful language which conveys a feeling?"

    and perhaps my favorite of all

    Mesh Pouch, Brand name JOYFUL IMPRESSION:
    "We produce it for whole human beings."

    Points of Friction: Kenny Ryman, Tim Alexander, Joseph Hammer and Damian Bisciglia

    Points of Friction's 1984 release
  • Sackcloth and Ashes
  • was described by one reviewer as "Klaus Schulze battles with The Residents to see who can exert the most influence, while Stockhausen referees from the sidelines." Damn, baby. I want Stockhausen to be my referee.

    The very first and unrepeatable
  • cd is now available on the Points of Friction website. Not to mention Tim Alexander's solo release:
  • Professor Moth's Adventures on the Surface.................
  • Tim Alexander Tim Alexander. Magician? Musician? Causing cardiac arrest in group homes everywhere. Filet Mignon anyone? Leg of lamb? You'll get a prize cut of meat at this young man's feet.

  • features Tim Alexander, Alejandro Ceballos, David Moscovich, and Shane Schneider. Points of Friction, now, well. Friction. Experimental Friction. Did you say........................Friction?

    Let's ask Tim a few quick questions about how
  • Points of Friction
  • a Los Angeles based noise collective, got started, jump started, restarted, large-hearted. Points of Friction. Points of Friction. Points and Points of Friction and Friction. Pardon me, but did you say......................................Friction?WHO IS POINTS OF FRICTION?
  • Kenny Ryman,
  • Tim Alexander,
  • Joseph Hammer
  • and Damian Bisciglia.

    Two Nights of Portland Improvisation

    Jonathan Sielaff [Clarinets and Snare Resonator] Chris Cogburn [Percussion] open for Legendary Paul Rutherford [Trombone] and Torsten Mueller [Contrabass] at Dunes.

    Pictured Below: Andrew Wilshusen [Percusso-Destructo], Shane Schneider [Tenor Sax], Doug Haning [Piano], David Moscovich [Polylingual Dada Freestyle, not pictured] live at Tugboat Brewery.