S.B.T. 315

qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet

i first knew lorem ipsum as a dummy text used to fill space graphicly before the final writing is inserted. a layout tool for figuring in design/composition before knowing exactly what the copy will say, an estimate of how many characters fit in any given area, an inkling to provide a visual format and balance for the final design.

I wonder about how language changes, i see how colorful or sedate or glorious or peculiar it is.

but i don't know, i could not possibly know and i dont need to know but just to speculate because if i wanted to know i'm sure i could find information. exact theory on sound entropies or lost words. but it doesnt address my experience and so, i wrote a dummy language in my own lorem ipsum entitlement , perhaps

they may need to be translated back into latin for full effect.

which i am going to ask my latin-scholar nephew to do

i imagine it could be recited with the video projected onto the body of a blackclothed orator

here

(typography may be a very exact type of science, even with myriad variations. lorem ipsum is a kind of smile-bringer-onner for some reason. the 'fun' part of the design process, the initial ideas forming, that's when lorem ipsum could come into play, it has those kinds of associations, newness, not knowing and attendant fun aspects. a dynamic combination, in general or maybe in particular...

when considering the actual translation of lorem ipsum)

Cicero's original text: "…neque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem. Ut enim ad minima veniam, quis nostrum exercitationem ullam corporis suscipit laboriosam, nisi ut aliquid ex ea commodi consequatur? Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?"

H. Rackham's 1914 translation: "Nor again is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain, but because occasionally circumstances occur in which toil and pain can procure him some great pleasure. To take a trivial example, which of us ever undertakes laborious physical exercise, except to obtain some advantage from it? But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure?"

S.B.T. 314

"There is always a twist," the art master said, as his black twinkling eyes stuck to mine like a sheet of new tar hugs the dirt, his fingers like talons dipped in vermillion and his smile tinkered with dali's moustache firing a crackling cracquelure allure, as if this entire world were made of porcelain figurines come to life, shedding the crusts of their bonelike finish and bursting forth in opalescent technicolor like magical orange moonblossoms in spring...

wait a minute, hold it right there

S.B.T. 313

last year in may, Paul Squires, the wonderful poet and keeper of gingatao, contacted me with an idea he had. he was very insistent, and tho there was a lot happening at the time, i was inspired to take a break and go with him on this collaborative project. it was his idea completely and totally. he wanted to trade lines back and forth and make a collaborative poem (which he called a 'coolaboration' ha ha), then he would record it and i would make a video animation. he wanted to see words playing on the screen, jumping, floating, bouncing etc. he wanted to see words dance, other than that distinct directive, he made no other demand, and as soon as he'd edited the writing and come up with the title "permeant"(which took a few weeks) i set to work. and in early june sent him the first draft. he was excited and wanted to go with it right away. but i wanted to trim, sync and perfect it. "ok" he said "take your time". it was a labor of love, i worked on it sporadically, but suddenly he was gone. and he never got to see it finished. and i couldnt look at it. and it was impossible to listen to. but recently i chanced upon the file, and it started calling me back to it and so i opened it and looked at it again and again, trimmed a bit, touched it up, and called it a day. i hope his friends enjoy seeing it and hearing his voice once again.

i am grateful for the opportunity that came as if on a silver platter, and i only wish i'd had a sense of urgency about it at the time, but as usual, in his way, his work and the things around him had a fantastic ability to take on more feeling and meaning over time. and we know that "time is not linear".

the unforgettable mr. paul squires

was magic, and dont we all know it in our hearts

S.B.T. 312

effects of environmental enrichment on stability

he is putting on his coat and i get this cold feeling

your movements are crisp and succinct, a quick jab at the collar

a dive for the zipper

seems like i see you always in three-quarter view

mt rushmore - the faces will have to move some time

some day

pinlights dash down the slopes of his hair

(creases spell something at the tail of the coat

'satchmo' and a drawing of a trumpet, but why?)

oh dont tell me, i know why

my eyes are magnets for lint and dust

i tell you its the same old thing

nothing changes

and then he pulls a red kerchief

out from his pocket and says "see this silver dollar?"

yes i see it, he flourishes it as a magician would do

we are taking it out tonight he says

we?

oui.

rolling hills oft heather-filled in a place so far away

in the distant south the evergreen pampas

one has sea shells and that one has tigers

S.B.T. 311

architectural romance

drumming fingers on the sideboard his thoughts r in other places

near and far he happend to remember

some exiled emotion propelling events toward a renegade hand of gin

rummy and some rum

she pulls the hose up taut and checks the mirror, fluffs the collar

the navy blue ensemble w/white blouse, tightens the belt.

the shoes she says to herself the ballet heels

predictably boring chart projections (sigh thumbing thru blue prints)

heels latched 2 the rung (keep the chair from rolling)

dribbling a list of numbers A list (this notebook has seen better days)

he drew a voice balloon inflated a mystical monk chanting and

filled it w/new jersey erudite curbside sayings (noone out of town gets)

with a friendly frown (pencil in hand)

in contemplation

they met for lunch across the street

he orders tonic checks his watch

"i want to get home early today...

but this is home everywhere is home she said

pulling out a page with a cartoon of woody allen (hoboken)

there's no place like home

S.B.T. 310

pyro maniac

music accompaniment

sweet wall of fire circle round a blackened pit
lined with rough stones that fall from the dirt
wild animals of a certain species scratch
with tips so sharp they glisten in the dark

dig and roll them out
out from soily hollows molded
omega arc of pearly claws pull
on mass massive mass, with
tips so sharp they glisten in the dark

crusted with mud and smooth as eggs
colored like caramel, with veins of chocolate
these rocks get hot , hot rocks shatter
hot rock bbbrings down the wall, with
tips so sharp they glisten in the dark

S.B.T. 309

lunar eclipse

what i didnt know opened up the show

in the middle act were the things i lacked

and the final scene was a poignant dream

of a man reposing who might be dozing

while the stars turn round to the lovely sound

of the impish moon singing tansen's tune

on the ides of june