escape: act 0

prologue: put out those fires.

escape: act 1

Must stop listening.

redacted

will someone take my teeth? a sensation of general pain, like a burning, across my whole body. aches. sunday there was Tokyo-Ga by Win Wenders. now there is a whole in my head. locating the problem. or ignoring it. coyly. i am a clever ape.

neglect

if i neglect the blog and the novel will they both come together? and what about techyum? the bergman tribute? we won't even seak of the album on death. it is a limping. my grandmother's stroke and the sound of her distant voice on the phone. in between there has been the film Calvaire and the book At Home With the Marquis de Sade. more distractions surely to follow.

conspicuous

was the heart terribly fond to begin with? i remember a hangover last sumday and little else. wrestling the music collection into bits and bytes. i am done for. jaw aches and swells. pigdin pigeon. second attempt. must finish bergman.

towers open fire

having mistaken myself for a hat.

meme ore eye

saturday we woke early to meet annick for dim sum. sadly sean wasn't with her but it was incredible wonderful to talk to annick again. her baby, almost fue, kicking away. afterwords, a brief walk through chinatown and then home. back out again in a few hours for a wedding shower for jennie and doug. angie and i knew no one, so i just downed a couple of drinks and relaxed. it was over quickly. reminds us we need to make plans with jennie and doug soon. it's been to long. back home for dinner, more drinks and the film ugetsu and then hybrid. i was stunned by hybrid. either i had too much to drink or it was a really incredible film. the whole day with no narcotics and very little pain. first in a long time.

lark tongue in aspic

friday night, lx rudis and sarah came over for indian and takashi miike's zebraman. the first half is extraordinary, but it isn't me favorite of his films (which would be gozu or izo). i have forgotten my book today, which is nietzsche's sister and the will to power: a biography of elisabeth forster-nietzsche by carol diethe, which came after 9 1/2 years behind the green door by simone corday, which came after the afterlife is where we come from by alma gottlieb. next there is the baphomet by pierre klossowski. my ecletic brain will be the death of me. that is, if my heart doesn't get there first. lost. without.

complications

nothing.

high-gloss automatic prefecture

monday. out to see craig ventner speak at longnow. 3.5 billion years of microbial evolution. man-made chromosomes. shotgun strategies for new life. bacteria and virus savior. i am waiting for the new drug. aaron and bronwyn ximm were there, only two weeks after the baby was born. it was with them. asleep as aaron held her. ember. yesterday, kyle bruckmann's wife, ev, also had a baby. breeders. i cannot understand but wish them luck nonetheless. i threatened to read nietzche for bedtime if i were allowed to babysit. aaron thinks it's a good idea.

new names for sunday

in the evening we head out to yerba buena. while waiting in line, we run across elise baldwin and as we are talking, david kwan and his wife show up. all people i have not spoken too much in a while. further down the line, pamela z walks up and introduces me to phil niblock. i apologize to him for missing his show the night before, explaining that a friend in the east bay was making dinner. he said not to worry. i asked how the show went and he said "sufficiently noisy." he seemed like a really wonderful man. we make our way upstairs and sit down in the theater. i notice phil niblock walking in and sitting down by himself before the show and i am reminded of the films the week before, where george kuchar sat behind us all alone. i had this wonderful elation which i tried to explain to angie, but it wasn't working. usually i am hateful, if not oblivious to people in groups and it was a sweet little moment to imagine that anyone in the room could be some amazing person that no one, including myself, knows. even the meth-fidgety old man sitting beside me. first were films by janie geiser with music by tom recchion, followed by old films by tom recchion. janie geiser's films were dreamlike, but i found tom recchieon's thin at best. the music in all was very good though. after a short break, there were two films by pat o'neill with music by carl stone. the last had carl stone playing the music live from the stage. though the music and the films were wonderful, they did not fit together. pat o'neill's films were extraordinary too me, though angie was not overly impressed. afterwards we ran into dave cerf and talked to him for a while. i tried to catch carl stone, as i had not spoken to him in a couple of years, but missed him. then off into the night. a drink or two while we finished up harlan county u.s.a.

a thing we are missing: the crazy never die by the mitchell brothers.

saturday

late to awaken. generally lazy. off to the east bay for wine tasting in the afternoon with martin and jeremy. the rain and wind slowly strengthen throughout the day. we head back to their apartment and martin makes a wonderful and indescribable cheese pie with a thick polenta crust. more wine and then martin invents new drinks with saffron vodka. we try the tarragon vodka straight and it is suprisingly like absinthe. downstairs for a birthday party for their friend. bright tapestries, textiles and gigantic cloth banners adorn the entire place. martin compares it to fellini. little dogs running around. the hostess' parents befreind us in a matter of minutes, offering us a ride home. not long after martin pulls me out into the now gently dripping night. we cross the courtyard to the apartment manager's place for pot. martin tries to convince both me and the manager that i need to live there as we smoke. back to find angie and jeremy. i drag them back to the manager's apartment to play with the kitten. then back to the party. my back aches and I settle into the couch. soon, a large and very hairy dog curls up partially in my lap to sleep. I sit with him the rest of the night, slowly stroking his matted hide. we head home early because of the train schedule. at home, one last drink and we watch harlan county u.s.a. until angie falls asleep on my shoulder.

a thing we are missing: the night manager by hunter s. thompson

sandbox

on friday we moved from howl's moving castle to antonioni's the passenger. drink after drink.

having been

yellow fever engulfs paraguay as turkey invades iraq. goodnight teo macero. x-rays of my spine still look off to me. the doctors aren't so worried about the curvature. my spine has several horizons.

marshmallow

lunar eclipse. the u.s. embassy in belgrade is stormed and set on fire. the tension in my jaw leaves a little tick. perpetual motion.

curried butternut squash

my heart is held together with tape and perfumed with glue. it creaks a bit when it beats. wire and strings will brake my bones, but the words just never occur to me.

impact

robbe-grillet dies. castro resigns. kosovo declares independence. we shoot down the errant satellite on thursday. and we all shine on. emmanuelle arsan with laure. terraced mountain farms receding into fog.

source list

absinthe with stinging nettle flatbread. french onion soup and deep-fried garbanzo beans. bergamot ice cream. center for sex and culture. lovely carole. the gayvn awards. draining. frustrating. to the hotel. taco bell and kentucky fried chicken. a wooden xylophone. so many people from philly. cocaine on an cd case. d.c. hard core. credit cards and a twenty dollar bill. sleep. sleep. sleep. foggy mountains break down more than non-foggy mountains by jessie stead. hauling toto big by robert nelson. the seed of an obsession with structuralist film. delicatessen by jeunet and caro. more absinthe. pain. pain. pain. grows throughout. calm. sleep. perhaps. nina simone and the rough guide to vietnam. a stained bed. wrestling with html. some wine. perhaps. and sleep?

strange days

After work last night, I meet Angie and Allison Sharplin at the pillowfight. On the sidelines, taking pictures. Covered in feathers from head to toe, we board the train and on to Tu Lan. We couldn't get in to Tu Lan, so we ran around the corner for burritos. Angie took Allison back to the train. On her way back, she sees Christopher Willits running down the street weilding a pillow. Upsatirs to the Luggage Store Gallery. Solo performance by Phillip Greenlief, whose birthday it happened to be. Confirmed with Rent Romus that shudder will be playing the Edgetone New Music Festival in July. Brief conversation with Matt Davignon before we sneak out. Home. Home. Home. Sleep.

Symbionese Liberation Army

Recently, I keep running into the acronyn S.L.A. and I can only think of urban guerilla warfare. Were is the Weather Underground when we need them. I shouldn't post the two together perhaps. It is too late.

plausable denial

searching the detritus of the net for a copy of the Nekromantik soundtrack. sifting. sorting. setting aside.

Goethe's eidolons

headache persists. catching up now, but still so much to do. short pause. tomorrow, to the gym for the first time ever. humiliating.

weekend

i always think of goddard when i see that word.

friday. out for burmese food with martin and jeremy then back to the house for a raccous tasting of absinthes and shuffling of books. eventually up until sunrise.

saturday. slept most of the day and then cleaned the house.

sunday. matt davignon, lx rudis and several others over for card and board games. pizza and wine. everyone out by eleven. angie and i still stayed up for a movie.

today. tired. late to work. forgot my phone and my drugs.

head like a hole

when did this headache begin? days ago. it just won't leave me. ambergris is my new obsession.

The Final Truth of Plato Flats

What happen to the writings of Donald Henry Gaskins and Yang Xinhai? Alexander Pichushkin replies, "I felt like the father of all of these people, since it was I who opened the door for them to another world." The door is propped open with an empty bottle of vodka.

kick in the eye

reading the most brutal literature for a time. the transition for Sotos to Genet was lovely.

question

which marks stick in the throat? hand over fist or hello. i have not found it yet. still hunting.

a green island

to the St. George Distillery on Alameda yesterday with Martin, Jeremy and my Angela. waiting in the cold rain and wind for two hours for the second legal batch of absinthe to be produced in the U.S. in about a hundred years. employees of the distillery come around occasionally with hot chocolate which is a relief, though highly watered down. later we return to their place for many varied drinks including a rare, rose liqueur, a white tea vodka with orange, amazing rums, armagnacs, creamy indulgences. the sleepy train ride home as the waiting eventually begins to strangle and break my spine. at home, I lie on the couch, remembering the first batch of absinthe we tasted at Violet's on New Year's Eve.

continuing novelesque

Ballard is perhaps amused, but I still can't work it. The voice is broken.

vena cava size queen

People continue to mistake me for a healthy young man.

blog from a past

or future life can be found here.

Omnibus as test

output =

The PostAntiSurRealist Manifesto:
1. language is a myth.
2. there is no hope.
3. those who believe that society will save civilisation are idiots.
4. there is nothing more true than that which is false.
5. art is nothing more than the background noise of consciousness.
6. those who seek truth are fools.
7. we are all liars

Dada Problem: "":1: parse error, unexpected T_IDENT, expecting ':' or '('

truth be told, the cult of the NSAID must be stopped

The goats you buy shed a perfume that makes Marxism so terribly clear to me.


If you want to forbid entry to gigantic Sony walkmans, you'll need a woodshed.

heron.c:386: fusion-powered error before 'straightjacket' - toenail clipping overflow


Classical surgery for lumbar disc herniation is carried out by using a vertical median incision over the level which has an herniation. The dorsolumbar fascia is incised about 0.5 cm laterally on the affected side. The paravertebral muscles are dissected free from underlying bony structures, namely the spinous process and laminae, and retracted laterally. The level of disc herniation is identified using C-arm fluoroscopy or palpating the sacrum. The lamina is then fenestrated with bone rongeurs after which the exposed ligamentum flavum (the yellow ligament) is excised. The epidural soft tissue and venous plexus is gently explored to find the nerve root exiting from the associated neural foramina. The herniated disc is usually found beneath the nerve root. The nerve root is protected using root retractors. The posterior longitudinal ligament is incised with a fine blade and herniated disc material and degenerated nucleus pulposus are evacuated using different kinds of disc forcepses. Meticulous control of haemostasis is employed and irrigation with warm saline is essential. The muscle layers and the fascia is repaired, generally, without using a drain. The skin wound is closed

Alfred Jarry invented The Disembraining Machine in 1896.