Calling All Flautists!

So, one week from today,
the Day of the Zombie Rock Opera
is going on at Dantes.
Some of you may remember about a year ago
I had some instruments stolen,
and I only recovered the violin.
The flute I have now (an artley student model) is not really up to par
for this material,
AND I NEED TO BORROW AN OK or EXCELLENT CLASSICAL FLUTE!
Do you have one?
If you let me borrow it for a week I will get you into the show for free
or do some craft work for you
or bribe you
or SOMETHING!
Or,
if you know someone with a good flute lying around,
point them out to me!
Thank you all for loving Sci-Fi Post-Apocalyptic Rock Operas!

Water in the Desert!

If you havent heard about this massive FREE all day open-air
extravaganza of music, art, workshops and theater,
check out this website!

www.waterinthedesertfestival.org

This year is going to be great.
I am Puck in the production of
A Midsummer Nights Dream!
(I've been outed as a thespian!)
You can even get involved if you fancy.
If you are around on July 26th, its what is happening in Portland.
Also, the night before at Dante's we are putting on
my old Zombie Rock Opera,
The Day of the Zombie, too,
along with some Lady Zombie Cabaret
I have not seen, but must be scrumptious.
Hope to see you there, mofos!

Ritual Theater

For those who may enjoy it:
I am performing at the Fez on Monday night of the 16th,
not alone,
but alongside a myriad of mindless spiders,
all toiling ceaselessly and weaving a psychedelic tapestry
that promises and has proved in the past to be so rich
in color and diversity of geometry that to even gaze upon it
is be thrust into a dimension of pure abstraction,
of primordial creation.
~
Nequaquam Vacuum~
A post-Asiatic Improv Symphonic Noise Ensemble
(In which I play the flute, violin, violin feedback, recorders in 3 formations, jaw harp, and voice)
is executing the musical backdrop for
Death Posture~
A ritual theater Butoh troupe
in which Mizu Desirto,
a professor of modern dance,
is also partaking,
leading into
Power Circus~
Another local symphonic noise improv troupe
of entirely different mettle altogether,
a conundrum of wires, digital mayhem,
and classical abomination.
~
I believe it will cost you nearly 7 american dollars to attend,
however,
you will leave with 12 moments of elation and/or confusion,
at the very least.
This much is for certain.
With absent minds and tentacular sub-consciousnesses,
so go forth the sonic soldiers of the oldest discipline,
masquerading as nothing in particular,
tearing muscles and ripping minds,
vying deftly for a position at the helm
of a vehicle that goes nowhere,
yet is everywhere.

Behold, my Children!

www.youtube.com/watch

What kind of fruit do you like the best?
...................................................................

Angelic Waters/Taoist Alchemy

I run around all day, almost every day.
In order to do this more efficiently,
I take tea and honey.
The caffiene and sugar create music in my blood.
They create bliss in my mind.
When I come home,
I lay back upon my bed and sip aloe vera juice,
unbuttoning my pants and rolling up my sleeves
as I stare into the septagram between the horns of Isis.
Pleasuring myself,
I feel waves of warmth wash over my body,
and my tailbone and lower vertabrae pop and seem to spread open as I attain a glorious climax,
the name of Maria escaping my lips.
Taking my seed under my tongue,
I find myself to taste like nectar and candy.
I fall backwards out of my body into the realm of hypnogogia, and am beholden to a miracle:
In space there is a symphony.
Each insturment plays in perfect harmony and the sounds created carve an electric circut in this space,
glowing with the force of life and creation.
As the music swirls around me, the circuts begin to take the shape of an ornate pitcher, with its orniments of leaves and cherubim gilided to its girth.
The music reaches its creshendo as the pitcher's handle,
puresst gold comes into being,
its sound being a chours of 10 angels opening their chords in 4 octaves of pure and utter glory, in perfect unison with an entire symphony,
wrapped around my mind in a rapturous bliss as the pitcher pours its divine waters into my solar plexus and
my tears fall with the sacred waters as well.
~
I awaken and the room is spinning.
I am laughing.
Blood sugar is a funny thing.
(I hope this does not ruin my reputation as an evil sorcerer)

Sweet Wonders of Nature, Part II

What the footage does not get into is the fact that this man has advanced to this state
because of the fact that he is a Jehovah's Witness, and therefore is not "allowed" to receive the blood transfusion
necessary for the operation, the "blood thing" mentioned in the 2nd film.
His religion has turned him into a monster!
(not just figuratively, like most religious monsters)
......And it gives me special joy to watch him eat,
as well as listen to him try to speak.
Watch the drama unfold in these 2 short films!
Tee hee hee!

link.brightcove.com/services...329220780

link.brightcove.com/services...329235040

.......oh, the FUCKING HUMANITY!

Vivesection, Parrot Fish Parasite Pyramids, and the Masochists Who Love Them

I have new "friends" in my dreams,
and they have been coming around a bit too much lately for my tastes.

While their origin is still yet unknown,
they may be found in the intestinal tracts of the parrot fish that are imported from the east
and are sold in asian grocery stores. If enough of the "chum" is accumulated into a pile and left in the rays of the rising sun,
the parasitic bacteria transmogrifies the innards and viscera first into crude bodies resembling cyclopean amoebas,
("cyclopean" being used in the context of both being gigantic, as well as having one eye)
and the remaining bits are fashioned into an opalescent pyramid.
This pyramid emits an ultra high frequency vibration that allows them to maintain their forms as well as practice telekinesis
in their surgical endeavors, as their pseudopod appendages cannot possibly attain the level of precision required to
satisfy them. They identified themselves and their race as "Zog," and I fairly certain that they have nothing to do
with the supposed "Zionist Occupational Government" conspiracies.

At first, they would take anyone.
They were especially fond of the eyes, fascinated it seemed.
As the man was bound by leather straps a combination of scalpels and lasers carved out a cubical chunk head
in the manner you may see in Gunther Von Heagan's "Body Worlds" exhibit.
The incisions were cauterized immediately.
Leaving the optic nerve in tact, the muscle groups are splayed and and the eyeball scrutinized at length, all within an artificial anti-gravity field, as to allow each component to be arranged neatly in space.
There are some other machines hovering about, but their function is unknown to me.
I am distracted by wretched humanoids, diseased and covered in sores,
who seem to delight in their own wretchedness, delight in the discomfort they cause by flaunting it.
In retrospect they may have thought they were being friendly.
I am at a loss to remember anything after this, save waking up feeling ill and violated.

They returned a few nights later, seemingly eager to show of their new friend (because they like me, you know), a masochist of the highest order. In a tunnel of pulsating muscular viscera, he is presented to me on a levitating surgical table with mechanical attachments
and instruments laden all about.
Half of his jaw had been removed, but he still managed to SMILE.
This is difficult to describe, but if you try to imagining picasso painting a man with a knife, taking his limbs from him in the style of cubisim,
bone fragments arranged like mobiles, hanging from the twitching, dangling tendons, and the SMILE that just WASNT THERE, somehow you might almost see it.
The skin on the front of his torso had been replaced with a plastic screen (I hear men have done this to a cow in order to study anatomy)
and his organs were carved with designs reminiscent of late 1800's iron work,
everything throbbing and gushing against the screen, mixing with the darker bile like a psychedelic oil projection, the stumps remaining of his extremities undulating with apparent glee
as every breath and minute movement generated a perfectly intense agony, a pain that could never be replicated by human invention.
His dilated eyes gesture towards his genitals, and I see a hovering syringe inject some sort of iridescent substance into the underside
of his penis, which begins to swell to rather unsightly proportions.
A scalpel creates an incision into his scrotum, which is then splayed wide,
and the testicle is removed and discarded.
There is no blood.

I fail to remember anything after this point, which is bizzare, because I can usually remember more details no matter how horrible a dream is. I awoke feeling genuinely horrified, as though dread were a turban that I could not unfurl.
(WOW, I really just typed that)
Thankfully my day afterwards was filled with music and beautiful ladies, saunas and chants, stretching and humor.
I suppose in a way I am becoming more emotionally well-rounded, experiencing extremes in order to understand the equilibrium.
~At least I can tell myself that for now.

Sweet Wonders of Nature

www.youtube.com/watch

What's really great about this is the musical score.
.....Well, that and gratuitous genitalia shot.

The Altar of Sublime and Powerful Incarnations

This dream begins nowhere.
The horizon of an endless gray sea is met by a gray mist, which fades into a gray and cloudless sky.
Although I am not there, I am fishing these waters, believing myself to be sitting upon the deck of a modest fishing vessel.
It is not there either.
When I do not feel a tug on my line, I do not begin to reel in the catch, which comes into view eventually.
It is a bright orange torpedo-shaped buoy, upon the front of which is a wide-eyed smiling face,
not dissimilar to the smiling sub-deities worshiped by the Hare Krsnas.
As I do not pull it aboard, I am struck with the realization that there is no boat.
I was never fishing.
There is nothing but the buoy, and I cling to it as I find myself floating in these waters.
The water has no temperature, no substance.
As I let go of the buoy, I cannot tell if i am sinking into the sea or floating into the sky.
These distinctions are arbitrary.
~
A gate opens, and oil lamps ignite to illuminate the splendor of a temple's shrine, a low ceiling but extravagantly
ornate. The pillars of the altar are of gold and ebony, and a thick and heady incense fills the room with an indescribably intoxicating aroma.
The flicker of the lamps cast shadows dancing across the richly textured surfaces of every object, and within moments I am deep within a lucid trance state, reeling with the subtle pleasure of a heightened awareness.
The deity does not make itself known to me, not in its true form.
My minds eye is filled with an arrangement of 17 cards, each depicting an incarnation of the deity in the traditional style of the culture
that knew and worshiped it throughout the course of history.
11 of the cards are darkened, and the illuminated 6 remaining represent the most potent manifestations of the deity as chosen by the deity.
I am to choose of them to become of them, as the deity has grown beyond them.
~
2 of them are from India.
2 of them are from Tibet.
1 is from the Maya.
1 is from Japan.
~
The 2 from India depicted black and white entities,both androgynous males, both seated, both with 4 arms.
The black one's face was contorted in a furious intensity, its body wreathed in flame, and human remains adorned its body, fresh blood drizzling from the freshly dismembered limbs, eyes crossed, and fangs gleaming over the tip of the exposed tongue.
The white one's face was the picture of perfect serenity, seated upon a lotus and wreathed in clouds.
Its body adorned in pearls, jewels and gold that did not shine brighter than its eyes, which were nestled in a flesh softer than down feathers, its subtle lips parted into the most delicate smile.
~
The 2 from Tibet were very much like the previous 2, save that they were in standing and dynamic postures of action,
and with 12 or 16 arms each.
~
The one from the Maya was a profile view in the style of the old bas reliefs found in the ruins, and of a man in elaborate headdress sailing in the cloudy sky upon an enormous crystal skull, bearing a sword that was clearly intended for decapitating foes, feathers splayed all about him and polished stones of all kinds adorn his body.
He was not dead, nor was he alive, but in a state in between that is achieved by holy slayers that allows passage into darker realms
where all things feed upon life and light, and are subject to the twisted wills of what can only be called vampire lords, for lack of a better term. This state of unlife renders one nearly invincible in these realms, and this incarnation defended the Maya from these forces.
~
The one from Japan was a slayer as well, standing tall and quite handsome, violet skinned and with completely modest black cloth attire
and a tall hat that was somewhere between a Vietnamese field worker hat and the classic witches hat , with waist length black hair that shone bluish-white streaks in the rays of a setting red sun. He carried a sword made of crystal and gave the impression that he would become invisible even in the lightest shadow.
I chose to experiment with becoming him first.
~
The transformation was instantaneous and without sensation.
I found myself still in the shrine and changed into the being, but as he was as a child.
Small and round-cheeked, with a big round belly. The hat being taller looking, proportionately.
Instead of a sword, I/He had a giant mollusk companion, a great purple slug streaked with bulging crimson veins and a bright red saddle.
It moved quite quickly.
I also immediately became aware of a vast array of intensely destructive psionic powers that were at my command.
Mostly used to psychically damage an opponent, many could cause severe nervous damage, blindness, vertigo, terror, and internal bleeding. All of them manifest as huge spheres made of latticed strips of purple flesh, laced together with transmuted aether,
and would become deadly psionic force upon contact with their target.
I was somehow not impressed.
~
I decided that, while these things being glorious as they were, were not for me, without testing the others.
They were the footsteps of another, and I am a bit adamant about creating my own myths and deities,
about becoming them in a way that I devise, through my own life path experiences, as that surely is the way the greatest masters and original gods achieved their positions:
By making their own way.
Perhaps I am a fool.
In any event, my real life unfolds outside of time,
and I am pleased to be able to have the offer made,
even if I refused it.

The Glory of Air Pirates and the Soul Crushing Horror of God

They were Satanists.
Not that they believed in or worshipped Satan,
They believed in themselves, and their ability to grow learn and attain power.
The title was admittedly reactionary,
but only because they knew what it truly was that called itself "God."

They were Air Pirates.
Travelling in an enormous red WWI biplane with 3 cockpits that seated 6 each,
with numerous decks, lounges and cabins in the hull of their fantastic plane (not to mention the huge machine guns), they boarded and robbed the superfluous cruise zepplins of the wealthy classes, taking money, food and jewellery, as well as inviting those intrepid enough to join them in thir life of high adventure, impetuous tresspasses and forbidden romances.
They only hurt people if they absoultely HAD to.
~
THEN
~
They were Women of True Faith.
They had forsaken many aspects of life, save devotion to their husbands, in order to focus their latent psychic abilities to transcend the material plane and become one with God. They assemble on an enormous white disc in the sky and line up in uniform rows before the blinding white light, as per its commands and to its satisfaction.
The light is an illusion.
It blinds to hide what lies behind, and lies indeed inside the mind.
"We have assembled O Lord!"
The spokeswoman chimes.
" Now time is for [this name should not EVER be written or spoken] to feed"
The white light simultaniously hisses and growls.
"But Lord! [X] seems so....Un-Holy!"
"And He is-"
"SILENCE!"
Cammands the light, and all the women assume a submissive posture with lowered chin and furrowed brows as the spirit darts about them, enveloping them like a damp smoke, one by one as they shift uncomfortably from side to side untill it has made its selection from the group. It enters her and she immediately becomes decrepit and yellow with sores forming upon her face. Her skin begins to peel and putrefy.
She awakens back on earth, alongside her husband, who has as well become infected.
He gets up and realizes his brain is being cooked with fever and his renal system is failing.
"Honey? I....I...uhhhhhh...."
He is dying quickly.
He shines a flashlight on his wife.
I am thankful she is covering her face.
She is dessicated beyond what is easliy described, her flesh like steaming jelly, her bones exposed, yet still alive, and ashamed,
still convincing herself that this is necessary to attain the Glory of God.
~
Seeing this shit makes me feel fucking horrible.
Many parts are more vivid and realistic that the reality I am experiencing right now.
Now I have to talk to people about the weather and popular sports teams and other such nonsense.
~
Do they know what they are really worshipping?
Does anyone examine the ramifactions of blind faith?
Fuck fuck fuck I feel sick.