Sigil Talk

While talking, I discovered I'm not saying what I mean, because the things I want to say appear before me in an unknown script-- magic sigils, composed of dances and ducking smiling profiles, besides other things I don't even know to sketch. There's a long list of questions and sorrys and thank-yous, (before you think I'm feeling bad about me, some are adressed to myself, too) but only the lowest entries are in english. I try for the middle entries, but end up with short-hand not even I can't decipher the second after. I will try again. (as soon as you call, 510 316 3404)

I realised late that I have two sadnesses, one about something and one not, but more about tenderness. and that it's hard to see both, and especially the tender one. The tender one is good, and gets me breathing right, or at least lets breathing feel like it should. I want to stay on that, upright, and send a message that I'm fine, full of love, and open for bussiness.

GKC on my inside

This morning laying up in a solarium, I thought that perhaps we do some detective work on our selves. Looking at the clues, we see an incommensurable pile of measures, and to solve the puzzle by adding just one thing, we deduce what we're feeling: love. Hearts move all sorts of different ways, and I think mine made a rare leap

Stephan Bodzin's full-length is called "LIEBE IST..." A man after my own heart? Could be if not for the ellipsis, but it seems he's a bit older than me, so, to be excused, to be continued

transduction myth

Ok, there's a guitar player who's really messy- all scraping and sliding and buzzing slurs - NOT CLEAN. But, she plays hex pitch trackers, and somehow her messiness is understood by the synth. The only and messiest mess to be understood. a special and meaningful mess, she's my hero

//oct 30th 2009 edit- forget the hex trackers, do it mono. phase relations magnified to melodies. rubbing down, digging into the fretboard, mining for shapes

drinking down Taglioni's cubes

Alluded to briefly last post, catagories of sparkle meeting each other makes for a lovely time. "placing a piece of artificial ice in her jewel casket or dressing table where, melting among the sparkling stones, there was evoked a hint of that atmosphere of the starlit heavens over the ice-covered landscape."

Last afternoon I gave my lucky iridescent orange espresso cup it's first filling with an almost matching cantaloupe agua fresca. Two aging pieces of ice floating there had no other colors to reflect and so almost disappeared, but remained as rough spots, looking quite a bit like torn bits of cantaloupe. That cup's been with me a year and a half, mostly living with a little copper snake who used to prefer sharing the control surface of a Boss PS-2 with a tube of C5-A loctite. The cup he shared with a few stainless steel 1/4" 4-40 screws from Don Buchla's house in it whose finish I've yet to find the equal of, but stayed on the saucer-porch. Sometimes a magneton-pokemon would come over to visit with the silvery screws. But now, the cup's getting ready to travel, saying gooodbye to the friends and burrowing into a duffle bag full of softies. The PitchShifter-2 is on it's way to Scott Jaeger's wahid-ithnan-thalatha--Stilton-Adaptor, but softly

I ought to take a few pictures of these old friends sharing a glass. I hope the recreations give some of the old feeling, hope the little snake doesn't feel uncomfortable or stick to the cantaloupe film.

1/2 episodes connected by a fine silver chain

Yester-noon laying up in Bill Schaaf's truck (of 94706-2143), a habitual resting place of a venerable copy of Science & Health, I remembered having one of it's beautiful sentences pointed out to me through the CS reading room(-2148)'s glass plate (was it just the night before?). bright sparks shining mistily out from the ice-cube like the next-door jeweler's charms! On the page facing the first S&H bit from the featured Bible Lesson we saw: "By trusting matter to destroy it's own discord, health and harmony have been sacrificed." On second reading, in the truck, I thought of GK Chesterton who might really think what I think he thinks: by our senses we apprehend an incomplete and incommensurable system. solve the puzzle by adding the least number of things: God

Meow, morning!

Sensitized -finger skate rink- Surface

Last night I saw a man sitting on a stool between A.a laptop facing andB.a rock band, running Windows Media Player visualizations on the PA mix, projected onto them. I don't know how it started, but if he had first sat down at the computer to modify the "random" visualizations' abstractest there-allowed pace, he'd have been disappointed at the there-disavowal of even that simple request, then he may have swiveled a quarter revolution left leaving his right finger shortly-blindly on the trackpad, turning his head another quarter, but the whole way to the main attraction, to watch the band possessing the commonest degree and type of usefulness. Seeing the projected visualization, re-finding his projected finger, he notices his finger skate tricks in the trackpad's sensitive arena cause screen redraw blocks - black and white cake. Grinning and index finger dancing to my startled appreciation, he spends far too little on anything. dabbling in light waters, but got too cold and got out. I bet the "random" plug-in select threw him off but that's not verifiable by anyone. the zebra flicker might only look good with a purple which was perhaps as evanescent as the rest.

Ma Seeger of Bielefeld's verbal style sets it off

obtained under false preview:
pre--interlang-surface posts recap here:

M. defocused hair spins in chaotic toilet vortex +0
pardon my shaky hands, I first looked in wondering if I had to vomit (flu this week), but became distracted by the defocused hair spinning in a chaotic toilet vortex. later taped a guide de la route fresnel to the rim for optical gain, but unfortunately couldn't focus through it. later videos of incremented names supplement focus, and the last supplies a sound track in collaboration with jessicarylan@gmail.com

C. defocused hair spins in chaotic toilet vortex +1
second, if in sequence, my eyes adjust to the facts of my spinning hair fragment still remaining quiet about it. shortly the phone will ring: dial -1 (parent title, +0) for more details; dial +1 (parent +2) to answer it

MC. defocused hair spins in chaotic toilet vortex +2
Talk and Shoot between unseasonably well behaved state variable filters and their chaotic parents (jessicarylan@gmail.com, and nonfigurative mom on line two) and how March will be retrograde till February (yasi_p@hotmail.com). could do with some compression between these two sides of the story, or an auto-hybrid for the remake of this second sequel.

X. (It, subject) ripples off the boardwalk
Scry tool found off the boardwalk after dust allergies to Patchen's archive. I didn't yet ask Lyal what he saw, but I will.

and then finally for now
MX. Don Buchla's washing machine always excites resonances in his shelves, and it's always the transistors that shake the most. I failed catching their shakes twice in a conventional way before I decided to bring the camera and it's stand into resonance with the shelf to amplify and substantiate the shakes. My bendy legged tripod tunes in to the vigorous vibrations quite easily; in fact, perhaps the remake of this third try calls for heightening mistuning and insensitivity

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So, Mama Max, muxmax.blogspot.com, thanks