|Sissyfussing 7 purrfect 10 sonic sculptures down-climbing a virgin ½-pipe w/ our granny cart
24 Oct> Last nite we wint to the airport on a skatebored, zooming thru hallwaze w/ laminated wood floors, bashing thru swinging doors. Then we ran into Zeke Zagar (old punker/skater friend) who was looking for the olympic snowboarding competition, wich we'd just passed, so we took him there, skating thru the same maze of hallwaze, but we din’t know specifically ware the ½-pipe was. We cd see her down below, but had to scamper down a cliff to get to her. As we was climbing down a hole sexion of rock gave weigh + we was falling but then we took cuntroll of the utterwise scary situation + turned her into a sorta cuntrolled flying. Now we was down on the valley floor (felt like Yosemite) + needed to clime back up to get to the ½-pipe + we had newfound confidance about our abilities cuz now we knew we cd do anything + not die, so was looking for a heinous route to clime, tho din't want to do an aid route cuz that seamed like cheating. Sum gnarly trad climbers aksed us if we had taken 30 ppl climbing before, as if this was the # of times u needed to do take beginners climbing before you was qualified to lead. We commented about how folks was never so nosey in our day + age + then we got into a discussion about practiss + perfection—how u got to practiss just enough but not too much... how it’s all about timing, reaching your pinnacle at the time of the performance, cuz if u practiss too much you’ll be uninspired. Then we got to thinking, was Nadia Comăneci really deserving of 7 perfect 10s, or was the judges paid off?
27 Oct> On the train in the rain to Bodymore. Our bedder-½ took an earlier train to Philly + speaking of Zeke Zagar (who used to live there), we thought of going w/ her, but she's only goin' for a few hrs + then retreating back to B'more for sum evening event so figgered we'd meat her there + spend the nite since there ain't no trains on Sunday nights. Yesterday, or maybe it was the day before (ayer we din't do nada cuz our vertigo was tan mal) we did a DC microcosmic walk. Since last post we leaked a song sorta about Virginia Woof, we figgered we'd tackle Virgina Ave... spose we shd of dun Pennsylvania ave (since our bedder-½ was gonna bee in Philly), but dat's gonna be a chore to tackle, specially w/ dat dufus living at 1600. As we menshunned last post, the name Virginia gots speciel significants to us cuz both our grandmothers on both sides was named Virginia. Not dat we knew ether of them... on our mom's side she died way before we was born + on our father's side we only member visiting dat granma Ginny in a hospital, purhaps where our phobia of hospitals started, we used to dread dat smell! As for the state, we don't got much experience w/ Virginia b-sides staying just across the bridge in Rosslyn when we was in limbo waiting to move into our new house or that time we passed thru Virginia w/ brother Lopez on the way to AWP Atlanta + it scared the beejeezus outta us just stopping for a bite to eat (+ we ain't even black), tho we due member hearing sum good bluegrass on them raydio waves. Speaking of AWP Atlanta (2007) that was our 1st attack of vertigo, tho brother Lopez + others there thought we'd just had to mush too drink. Dat episode was so bad we was throwing up every hour while we was sposed to be manning the Calamari table. Innyway, back to Virginia Ave NW... ain't mush to her, she runs from the mall just south of the Whitehouse to Watergate, thru Foggy Bottom, where weed consider living just cuz it sounds cool when folks aks what part of DC we live in. Seams to be a montón of Spanish/Latin Amerikin stuff along Virginia Ave NW, statchews to Sur Amerikin heroes + poets. Oh + we also passed a few more embassies along the way (Kazakhstan, Saudia Arabia, Bahamas (in Watergate), Tajikistan).
We wood of crossed the bridge into Virginia, but our bedder-½ had to get back to take a call. Walking back we took New Hampshire Ave. We lived in New Hampshire for a year (in 1997 or so) but we don't have much to say about dat + halve yet to transcribe them journels. The avenue runs die-agonyly back thru Dupont Circle rite to our casa, 1 of the more geometric walks weave dun.
28 Oct> On the train back from B'more. Last nite had a swanky dinner at the prez of JHU's house, then wint to Pharmakon at Metro gallery... quiet the contrast. Pharmakon was bewitching, a veritable sound sculptress, generating sound waves dat penetrait varyus oregons of yo body, hitting curtain resinant freakwindseas. Insane she's bean doing these shows since we 1st saw her 5+ yrs ago + still gots a voice left, not to menshun the fizzickle + mentoll exertion she putts into her live performances. After the show our bedder-½ wint to the bathroom + ran into Pharmakon dubbled over on her knees on the floor. Feels like she's exorcising demons thru her sonic sculptures.
On the train + off + on these past weeks bin reading A Dog Between Us by Duncan Barlow... definitely well-written + brutally honist, shoots from the hart, butt all the stuff about caring for his dying dad makes us uncomfortable. B-sides what we said above about our phobia of hospitals, the idea of caring for elderly relatives gives us heebie jeebies just thinking about it. The parts of Blake Butler's Nothing, wich we're also finishing, where he talks about caring for his dad w/ dementia also make us queasy + uneasy, callus squeamish. Thank dog we don't god no jerryatic begetters to care for... hour father checked out long ago + our brother now lives w/ our mom thankully cuz we don't got no stumache for the old + sick, even if it's our one blood. Callus hartless, bud we don't buy into this obligation to care for yo parental beans just cuz they had u. Our parents were in no position to halve us + shd of never bothered... when we aks our mom now why she had us she says it was just what every 1 else was doing, so she felt obligated + now, what, we shd feel obliged to not onelie keep propagating this nonsense but take care of her in her last hours when she up + abandoned us right after we was born? It's a vishus psychle that needs to stop, humuns perpetuating this d-zzz of obligation (at the expense of the rest of the plant + animal world) + in our case both our progenitors god the d-zzz of addickshun witch they in turn passed onto their progenie (nod to menshun a bad brain w/ a hole + an arachnoid cyst). We ain't bean doing mush righting on "SSEY' vol II lately (got sidelined while we finish our album) bud our brother Chaulky (originul author of vol I before he died) suffered this obligation to family lodes more than we ever did + he also god a heavier expression of this addickshin jean. It's hard to say "we wish we was never born" (+ it don't mean we're sewersidal), butt an abortion wd of bean a bedder choice for the grater good of el mundo. Butt wile we're hear hay guess we shd make the best of hit + do our pard to diminish this humun need to keep begetting genetickly by fostering posthuman memetic propagation thru art. As we was reading A Dog Between Us we realized we'd red it before in an early form, for consideration for Calamari + we passed mostly cuz we was in no position to publish it (living in Italy at the time) + for the above menshunned reasons, thankfully Stalking Horse press (started by James Reich, another musician/writer like Duncan + ourself, whose bands we inklooted on the Sleepingfish XIV mixtape (Venus Bogardus + ghostscapes respectively).
|# 677 <(current)> 679 > God ain't dead, it just never lived, or ∃xisted as landlords w/ ∀ll dead souls (the greatest trick ever pulled)|