(self-important blog title here)

Listen to No More Twist!

PollyMoller — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 00:12:23 GMT

Did you miss the No More Twist! performance, live in the KFJC Pit on Thursday? It's OK. You can still hear it on <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/No+More+Twist">last.fm,</a> or on <a href="http://www.berkeleynoise.com/celesteh/podcast/">Les' podcast.</a> The text is the exceedingly rockin' spoem "Nice to see you". It's a wonderful piece of spam poetry posted to the Spoetry Collectors email list in 2006.

Happy 11th anniversary to my lost love

PollyMoller — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 01:23:24 GMT

This reminds me of Paul a lot.

PollyMoller — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 21:22:46 GMT

It's hanging up in a cafe where I go everyday for coffee. It's hard not to stare at it. Any infringement of copyright is unintentional. If you don't believe me, go ahead and send Agent Mulder to arrest me.

Six months

PollyMoller — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 10:12:37 GMT

I guess I am adapting somewhat, to my hideously shrunken universe. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I didn’t believe I could go on living without Paul. I had joyfully and passionately made a lifetime commitment to him, and I didn’t make any move in the present without considering our future together. I didn’t have any concept of a future where he was not here. But it seems like I have to acknowledge that I have actually gone on living without Paul, for six months. I still don’t know why or how. The will to survive persists. Even more baffling is how I have not only lived, but had successes, somehow. I’m not sure I am really even doing it. It seems to happen without my direct participation, at a distance. I am deeply grateful to my family and friends for understanding how devastated I was and still am, and for giving me so much love and support. I’m being made to understand that I am never going to “get over” what’s happened. And given the severity of it, I feel that’s appropriate. The best I can hope for is to get used to it. I don’t understand how I will do that, either, but what choice do I have?

Behold the Glove of Truth!

PollyMoller — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 22:29:11 GMT

Here is Les modeling the first version of the Glove of Truth. I will be wearing the glove on July 23rd in our premiere performance of "Inquisition". It's equipped with sensors that will detect my vital signs and transmit them to Les' computer, which will analyze them and assign truth or falsehood. Then the computer will choose synth sounds and visuals to play and project in response. Les is due back in the States next month and we'll rehearse and refine the piece then. The Glove of Truth and the software and all the non-human factors will be configured and tweaked and adjusted as we approach premiere night. Honestly I wasn't expecting for there to be a glove. Having all the sensors in one place does simplify things for me as far as staging. I can start to think ahead about how I will approach my half of the performance visually. So my configuring, tweaking and adjustment of myself as an instrument begins now.

The dear departed

PollyMoller — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 19:25:27 GMT

Been thinking how to escape? This strait-jacket of constraint Been thinking what can be wrong? With feelings that long to belong Stargazing me In an upside down sea So weary this strait-jacket dreamer So resigned to continue to suffer But you've learnt that as you grow weaker There's less hurt because there's much less to hurt Stargazing me In a tumbling sea Up in the galaxy Staring down on me Stargazer reach out to touch With your mind that frees you so much Stargazer kissing your kismet With bright jewel encrusted scars Stargazing me In tranquillity Up in the galaxy Staring down on me -- Siouxsie and the Banshees

Culinary mourning

PollyMoller — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 14:02:50 GMT

Paul was such an artist in the kitchen. He created meals that tasted incredible and communicated so much love and thought and enthusiasm. It is hard to accept that I won’t ever taste his cooking again. I am thinking of wonderful things I will miss for the rest of my life: * His toasted cheese sandwiches. He made them for me often when we were living together. I would come home late at night from a full-time day working at the Eyeball and he would be all ready to make one, with sprouted bread and garlic aoli. They were so very good but they contributed in a big way to my former weight problem. * His idlis, and sambhar, and aloo gobhi, and rice, and raita, made temple style. I could have eaten his raita with a spoon. I loved his idli-making device. * His tabouli salad with the fresh tomatoes and the tiny five spice tofu cubes. * His Lamb of Buddha stew, which was my family’s traditional lamb stew recipe remade vegetarian. He only made it once. He even made the parsley dumplings, steamed on top of the stew. * His veggie fajitas. * His Thanksgiving dinner, with Qorn turkey and savory stuffing and potatoes and veggies and gravy. * His veggie stir-fries. * His veggie paella with lobster mushrooms, and veggie sausage, and seaweed to add the briney taste. * His cheese enchiladas with seasoned refried beans and yellow rice. * His home-formulated spicy hot chocolate. * His chili chocolate drops. * His Hungarian casserole, which he created inspired by my friend’s gift of paprika brought back from Hungary. * His stew pie, which he made by baking Worthington vegetarian country stew under a biscuit crust. When Worthington stopped making the country stew (a culinary microtragedy of its own), he created his own stew for the stew pies, with Qorn and potatoes and carrots and peas and mushroom soup gravy with special seasonings. * His tempeh, mushroom and broccoli main dish. This was a receipe given to him by Phil Gelb. I’ve tried to make the dish twice this year. The first time I didn’t do a very good job. The second time I did better, but it still didn’t taste the same. I did manage to recreate Paul’s homemade pizza. I can’t count the number of times he asked me what I would like for dinner and I responded eagerly, “A Paul pizzai?” (pronounced “peetsye”). It was soon after I lost him, that I got the ingredients together and prepared it the way I had seen him do, and I was kind of shocked that it tasted just like his. I couldn’t believe it could taste that way without him there. Folks suggested that maybe he was watching over me and helping me while I cooked it.

Five months

PollyMoller — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 07:45:46 GMT

I have been thinking about all the times I blew out candles on my birthday cake wishing for Paul to be healed. It hardly seems possible that the Phoenix lander should be exploring Mars without him here to follow it and cheer for it. And without us discussing the progress of the mission every day.

Memorial Day

PollyMoller — Tue, 27 May 2008 04:21:21 GMT

One of the flags and one of the incense sticks is for Paul, who was a veteran like my dad. I hope my dad is taking good care of him.

Lie detector performance: full details

PollyMoller — Wed, 21 May 2008 16:06:27 GMT

The promotional blitz for the Edgetone New Music Summit has begun. This is the festival where Les and I will perform as No More Twist!, premiering our piece "Inquisition" for Suspect, Examiner and Audience. Find out more about the festival at http://www.edgetonemusicsummit.org/ and get your tickets from http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/33233 where they are on sale now. Our performance is on July 23rd. But you really should come for all four nights. Each night features a different experimental music genre and there is something for every taste.

World Vegetarian Week, May 19-25

PollyMoller — Sun, 18 May 2008 04:16:57 GMT

Why not give the vegetarian diet a try for a week? You don't have to do it for eighteen years like I've done...unless you want to. And if you did, you'd have a serious impact...check out the top ten reasons why: http://www.commondreams.org/archive/2008/05/17/9018/

Again with Galway Kinnell

PollyMoller — Fri, 09 May 2008 00:56:43 GMT

I posted this poetic section in my blog back in March of 2006 -- a time where I remember having a premonition of the terrible events of the first of this year. I remember telling Paul on the phone on that evening in March, "I don't think we have as much time as we think we do." I was getting over a cold. I had my variegated brown sweater on. I'd been on my way out the door to dash down to Paul's home in response to the horrible cold feeling inside me. He called me just as I was about to get in the car, and was a little startled and perplexed and assured me everything was fine, not to worry, don't come rushing down. I never forgot that moment and I redoubled my efforts to make every moment between us the best I could make it. Please don't anyone forget that your loved ones can be taken from you at any moment. ----------------------- If one day it happens you find yourself with someone you love in a café at one end of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar where white wine stands in upward opening glasses, and if you commit then, as we did, the error of thinking, one day all this will only be memory, learn, as you stand at this end of the bridge which arcs, from love, you think, into enduring love, learn to reach deeper into the sorrows to come – to touch the almost imaginary bones under the face, to hear under the laughter the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss the mouth which tells you, here, here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones. The still undanced cadence of vanishing. -- Galway Kinnell

One of Paul's satellites

PollyMoller — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 14:36:38 GMT

Looks like the heroic Ulysses, supported by Paul back in the day, is getting old and tired. Here is the latest. http://www.spaceflightnow.com/news/n0804/15ulysses/

Full moon and empty arms

PollyMoller — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 02:12:03 GMT

My personal nightmare is the stuff that bad poetry is made of. I guess I am doing what all grieving people do – hunting through 10 ½ years’ worth of journals, archived emails, chat transcripts, tarot readings, and I Ching readings, trying to recall Paul’s presence to my mind and heart and spirit. Reading between every line of those divinations looking for hints and precursors and trends and energy movements. Thrashing around wishing those chat transcripts were more like our conversations in person, because we didn’t talk in chat like we did in person. I don’t figure most people do. I can remember a time in recent years when he and I were hanging out and I had just come back from the studio, or I was about to go into the studio, for the recording of my piece “Ultralite” for Not Made of Stone. The lyrics were very much on my mind and I quoted a line: “If I brought you a pen that was perfect, on your birthday, what would you write?” “A love letter to you,” Paul replied earnestly. I blushed and grinned foolishly at him, placed my hand over my heart and fluttered it to illustrate what was going on inside me at that moment. I don’t belong in this reality, or any reality where Paul is not.

Orpheus of Civic Center BART

PollyMoller — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 17:47:17 GMT

The mythology and lore of Orpheus is long, deep, and wide. He is a lot more than the greatest musician of elder times. But lately my daily travels in the "underworld" of BART have led me to think of him and his wife, Eurydice, and his quest to bring her back from the land of the dead. In the tunnels leading up and out of the underworld at Civic Center BART I've encountered two street musicians recently who have brought me to tears. The first was a violinist playing "Norwegian Wood" by the Beatles, and the second a tenor sax player who played "Someone to Watch Over Me". The sax player saw me crying as I gave him a donation and he declared that he hadn't had a reaction like mine "down here" in a long time. I said, "I wish your music could bring my man back to life." I wondered if Tartarus could be found down in the bowels of the Transbay Tube. I wondered if the river Styx might be somewhere under the Bay, and if Charon might be a BART operator. Cerberus might be lurking on a hidden platform to prevent unauthorized passengers detraining. I wondered if there were souls down there who might emerge, drawn by the artistry of street musicians in the BART stations. If I rode BART around the Bay Area long enough, might I find Paul peering in at a window of one of the trains? Could I charm Hades and Persephone into letting him go, with one of my poems or an improvisation on the bass flute? If I got him to follow me, could I lead him back to the land of the living, as long as I held fast to my faith, and didn't look back to see if he was really back there? Orpheus must have been just as devastated by his loss as I am. Perhaps his faith was shattered by the blow, as mine has been, so much of my faith in humanity having come from knowing Paul. And there Orpheus was, unable to resist turning around to check on Eurydice and whether she was really back there following him up the escalator. Maybe he worried that she didn't have a ticket, and that she'd end up on one side of the turnstile and him on the other. She would have to illegally jump over. So being as big a worrier as I am he turned around and looked back, and the rest, as they say, is myth.

Three months

PollyMoller — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 14:24:20 GMT

"Is everything a baited hook? And are there locks on all doors? If you're looking for an open book, look no further -- I am yours. We'll behave like animals, swing from tree to tree. We can do anything that turns you up and sets you free. You're an exception to the rule. You're a bona fide rarity. You're all I ever wanted -- Southern boy, could you want me? So come outside and walk with me. We'll try each other on to see if we fit. And with our roots become a tree, to shade what we make under it. We'll behave like animals, swing from tree to tree. We can do anything that turns you up and sets you free. You're an exception to the rule. You're a bona fide rarity. You're all I ever wanted -- Southern boy, could you want me? Southern boy, could you want me? Southern boy, could you want me...? Southern boy...?" by Incubus, with my gender alterations

The lonely laundry room of the Twilight Zone

PollyMoller — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 15:40:43 GMT

It is almost three months now since I was pushed forcibly through the Looking Glass and into this reality. Lately I am not always sure if I am hallucinating this reality, or if I dreamed up the whole past ten and a half years. The old reality must have happened, otherwise why would this one feel so wrong? I'm reminded of what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night in Paul's apartment, and get up for a glass of water. All his seven computers were there with their lights shining, and the router's lights twinkling as it kept up with the network connection. I could hear aquariums bubbling, and during the summer a low roar from the fans directing a cooling outdoor breeze from the open balcony door. It was a safe and peaceful place to walk around silently in the dark, and never more wonderful than when he was there, sleeping while I padded around. There is no place like that here.. Only here can I read about my best friend and the love of my life in a context where many of his body parts are deemed "unremarkable" by a medical expert. Even his heart, and that's just not the case. I told him several times that I wished his heart could be on a velvet cushion behind bulletproof glass, as befitted my greatest treasure. He never did arrange for this to happen. There was a reception at City Hall that I attended. There was a bunch of clowns there performing. A couple of them were stiltwalkers, and one of them came up to me. She was about 19, I guess. "Hey, I love your black arm band!" she said cheerfully. "What does it signify?" "It signifies my loss," I replied. "I'm in mourning." "Oh! Well, good luck with that!" replied the stiltwalker.

Wired for performance

PollyMoller — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 23:56:38 GMT

It's official: my duo partner Les and I, as No More Twist!, will premiere our piece, "Inquisition", on the first night of the Edgetone New Music Summit. The date is July 23, it's at the Community Music Center in San Francisco, and you better be there. Les (who has discovered that his name is pronounced "Lez" in the UK, where he's now getting a Ph.D.) is creating the biometric interface that I'll be performing with. So far, he's got a working pulse detector and a skin covalence detector. Devices for measuring other vital signs are in development. This means that when you, the audience, ask your probing, uncomfortable, surreal and goofy and hilarious questions, my biometric reaction will be monitored, for better or for worse. My heart rate's going to be amplified, and you'll be able to hear it speed up and slow down. (No way is it going to stay the same.) Whatever my skin does will be translated as data. And Les will turn all this information into sound and visuals that will be mixed with your questions, my answers, and his admonitions about form and content (if any). It's a truth and falsehood light- and sound-world. Of course you want to be a part of it?

Things I have learned in 2008

PollyMoller — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 21:37:37 GMT

So far in 2008 I have learned a lot and selected the following that may be of interest to readers. 1. There sure are a lot of dead people on TV. 2. They are not really dead people. They are actors pretending to be dead. A real dead person does not look anything like that. 3. When you suffer a catastrophic loss, lots of people will come out of the woodwork to offer sympathy and do the best they can to help you out. 4. Some of these people will say things that are patently absurd. This is OK because they don't know what to say and they feel like they have to say *something*. 5. When you suffer a catastrophic loss, some people will take the opportunity to kick you when you're down. 6. Some people will offer open-ended, unconditional support and reveal themselves to be amazing human beings. Some of these people are who you'd expect and others are not who you'd expect. 7. There is a pug named Louie who is really good at helping people forget their agony. 8. Some people will offer support for a while and then stop doing so. 9. Some people will find themselves incapable of being supportive. The identities of these people may surprise you. 10. Your catastrophic loss will feel like the first time this has ever happened, to anyone, anywhere. You will find out that it happens fairly often. Lots of people are surviving it right now. 11. Meeting your fellow survivors and being in contact with them is both reassuring and awful because it is terrible that this catastrophic loss should be happening to so many people. 12. People have been surviving this for so long that there are actually books about it, and everything that you're going through can be found in them. This is also both reassuring and awful. 13. The loss of one exceptional human being from the world makes it really really cold. 14. It is possible to learn to execute a lot of different tasks while crying. Driving while crying, however, no matter how much practice you get at it, is still unsafe. 15. It is possible to spend years and years and years doing the best you possibly could and still be up against something so horrifying you could not defeat it even with the best you had. 16. You will find your catastrophic loss made into plots on TV. These will not usually be accurately or sensitively executed. The best thing is not to watch them. There are some things I learned before 2008 which I feel might be of interest to readers: 1. If your loved one wants to do something nice for you, do not tell them "no". When your loved one is gone you will wish you had said "yes". 2. Nobody knows when his or her number is up, therefore, make your every encounter with your loved one the best you possibly can.

In memory of Paul...what to do?

PollyMoller — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 20:18:21 GMT

Stay up late and watch the Endeavour launch! http://www.spaceflightnow.com/shuttle/sts123/080310count/ Or, tape it and watch it tomorrow. Mind the time change on your VCR or TiVo.

A classical detour

PollyMoller — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 16:37:13 GMT

Last year, the Flock of Flutes ensemble of Walnut Creek, CA commissioned me to arrange two solo flute standards – “Cantabile e Presto” by Georges Enesco, and “Fantaisie” by Georges Hue – for solo flute and flute choir. On Sunday evening, March 16th, the winner of the Flock’s Young Artist Competition, plus the whole flute choir led by director Monica Williams, will premiere the “Fantaisie” arrangement at Walnut Creek Civic Arts. Come have a listen to this new addition to the flute choir repertoire! For tickets and information, call 925-943-5842. March 16, 2008 7:00 p.m. Shadelands Auditorium 111 N. Wiget Lane Walnut Creek, CA

No More Twist!

PollyMoller — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 02:23:18 GMT

It's official -- my friend and collaborator Les Hutchins and I are combining our artistic urges and expertise to form a performance art duo. We'll go by the moniker No More Twist! Fans of Beatrix Potter will recall where that name comes from...it's good to have a name that was called out desperately by the delirious and feverish. Very likely your first chance to see and hear us will be at the 2008 Edgetone New Music Summit. We will play on the opening night of the festival, July 23rd, at the Community Music Center in San Francisco. You've all got to be there, because you're intregral to the performance. We're going to need you to ask uncomfortable, goofy, probing, and/or silly questions. Stay tuned for full details.

It's Wednesday...

PollyMoller — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 20:27:27 GMT

This is the card for Wednesday in the old reality.

Happy birthday, Paul

PollyMoller — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 14:31:39 GMT

I'm so glad you were born. But you are not here to celebrate... I am way beyond heartbroken.

10 years, 5 months, and 16 days

PollyMoller — Sun, 27 Jan 2008 06:11:39 GMT

On Wednesday, July 16, 1997, I thought I was having a very platonic lunch at Hobee’s on Rengstorff Avenue in Mountain View, with my friend Paul Decker. All of a sudden, he leaned across the table. He seized my hand in both of his, kissed it passionately, and gazed deeply into my eyes. At that moment everything in my life changed. That day, which we marked ten times as our anniversary, began a long and wonderful partnership. We soon discovered how perfect we were for each other: we shared a common spirituality, similar political beliefs, and a thirst for learning and discovery. We agreed on pretty much everything – from the most sweeping high concepts to the smallest details. We had so much in common we nicknamed ourselves “The Twins”. We never took each other for granted, our passion never waned, and although we endured a lot of adversity, our love for each other and our commitment to each other never wavered. Paul quickly became entwined in every part of my life. Soon after we began our relationship, he took on the role of sound engineer and road manager at my live performances. As my self-appointed number one fan, he enjoyed watching my creative process as it unfolded. He knew I loved to write about the intersection of science and mysticism, and he would often send me articles about new scientific discoveries, NASA missions, and deep space survey results, knowing that I’d turn them into poems and pieces of music somewhere down the line. He was there to witness every stage of my four studio albums, and provided cover photography for my second and third CDs, Summerland and Diogenes. His presence at my concerts was such a blessing. With him there, I could always count on at least one person being there who was really going to listen. I enjoyed sneaking a look at him from my place onstage, to see him leaning over the mixer, intent on his work, but also smiling and mouthing the words along with me, sometimes with his eyes blissfully shut. I was privileged to be a part of his life, and to experience countless loving gestures, large and small…all the special meals he cooked for us, all the photographs he took of me, all the gifts he gave me, on special occasions or for no reason, chosen with care and circumspection; the bike he refurbished for me to ride, the awe-inspiring sandwiches he made for our hikes, the computer table and printer hutch he designed and built for me, the Christmas computer he built for my mother out of parts, all the times he cleaned up my kitchen just because he felt like it, the bottles of water he always seemed to have, knowing I was always thirsty…and all his anniversary, birthday, and Valentine’s Day cards, with their poetic and passionate hand-written messages. Time and again over the years I marveled at how lucky I was to have found a man who was a feminist, an intellectual, a visionary, an artist in the kitchen and behind the camera, a mystic, a writer, and a passionate and devoted lover. Paul showed me what true love and respect were all about. He didn’t care what shape my body was, or how I wore my hair, or what clothes I wore. His support of me in everything I chose to do was unconditional and relentless. He understood me completely, and accepted me for who I was. He established himself in my heart and mind as the gold standard of men. I resolved to be the best girlfriend I could possibly be, since he deserved nothing less. As I told him on many occasions, “The more guys I meet, the more I appreciate YOU.” On my journey with Paul, I had countless new experiences, and learned so much from him about love, respect, commitment, generosity, thoughtfulness, courage, and patience. He was my best friend, to whom I could tell any secret without fear of judgment. He helped me to heal from the wounds of the past and move forward with strength and confidence. With him cheering me on, I accomplished amazing things in my personal and professional life. Because of him, I know what it means to be an equal partner, to be truly accepted, and to be truly loved. My love for him knows no bounds, and my grief at losing him knows no bounds. I don’t know, yet, how I am going to endure being separated from him. I pray to all the gods that we will be reunited in the Summerland, and in all our lives to come.