S.B.T. 321

"if i had a hammer, i'd hammer in the mo or ning"

hurry if there is something you can do

"...when the lord gets ready, you gotta move"

the song of the morning presses in

fog over the chugging tugboat outspirational

serpentine red flags above the coach twisting twirling

diffused in light, dissolution glow

warbling crickets

beginning with the most flagrant selftalk

and ending with sword in stone concrete memories

these words spill into silence

the churbling of a thrush and skycall of

canadian geese

S.B.T. 320

in the sand

close touch all calm

beating endless ness

little body upright

walking in the sand

no cloud can stir

this changelessness

blank sheer clear

dream the passing

hour of figment light

that never was always is

all gone from mind

on all sides of earth and

sky at long last issueless

all sides endless true refuge

scattered down four walls

over backwards no sound

sandwalk

S.B.T. 319

two mnutes

for a good laugh, go here

S.B.T. 318

the dark side

the forthrising field was preplanned at the same time a secret sect was investigating synapse control, and small children were dreaming of typewriters, a serious typewriter with a tv screen attached. more like a tv box with a typewriter soldered at the front. you could type in someone's name and immediately see what they were doing, even if they were asleep. it was fascinating.

it was somehow disney-related too.

in the decades that followed events played out that prepared the ground for an avalanche of fertilizer that was spread over the field, a specially formulated electrocompost. reflections of associated foreboding found an outlet in the gutsy metalplastics and tiny l e d's scattering seeds.

there was a time oprah had an "a new earth" massive teleconference, and millions of people talked about feeling "the shift". that is the name of a new dance, btw. called "the shift".

can be done with a hula hoop, optional. starry-eyed,

full of love brimming, satiated, waking to a dawning full of pink light,

those are among the steps. we were waiting for the music.

and waiting.

so we made our own, working was better than tapping our fingers. and it was instant delayed gratification. and flowers blooming all over again. shift or no shift. and all of the highlights of the last four decades displayed randomly on a conveyor belt, a giant palette. upon which you can dip your brush into any color, you can paint one day on newsprint and toss it out the next day. you can pick one tweed jacket off of the hanger and brush the lint off the shoulder. it can take all day to repaint the weave ha ha. by evening you have the jacket on and now are shining your shoes. there is nothing insignificant, there's just not enough space. being happy doesnt always mean feeling that way.

so today the grandson of a portuguese fisherman's wife, a man so girded he can balance a piano on his pointing finger, came and carried away the old sofa and living room chair. i was glad to see them go, they were completely chewed up. space, ah. a futon, neat and trim, moved in, along with a simple folding saucer chair of magenta pink cushioning. i am ready for the storm.

S.B.T. 317

click on pic see the bee

where were we.....

rose-of-sharon.....

under the empire sun.....

touching heavens edge.....

dream in the wake.....

of arising moments.....

according to phenomena.....

gestures and sign language.....

emembrances r hidden.....

in time they may reveal.....

why i chose not to awaken.....

this very moment.....

might then be even.....

more lovely than trumpets.....

lustrous and fleeting.....

S.B.T. 316

scream

yoko ono once gave an interactive art experience online. I think it was officially called fluxus.

to participate you made a call, received a recorded guidance message, then you could scream into the phone. it was recorded on the other end and then placed into a musical 'screams score' more or less. my scream, as i remember, was weak.

i was more singing than screaming. whats up with that? i never cared until now cuz i just saw those teenage girls throats close in on their aborted screams, yet smiling as they walked away. whats up with that? you are supposed to scream your head off, not do a dainty curtsy. agh, kids

but then i remembered why my original scream had been weak. well, it was because i wasnt in touch with the feeling from which a true scream springs. (not that i recommend having a good reason to scream, its just that when it comes down to it, you dont really need a reason) and decided i wanted instead to work against screaming, i think thats why i sang. just to give the scream-score some perspective. and because i didnt have a proper scream to give......or so i thought.....just as the failed screamers in the gallery probably also thought. so, ok yoko ok you said it first, and it looks like i've gained scream consciousness. i'm in touch with that feeling, i just watched the news

here is a fine example of that same project but taken and performed live in a gallery, a different shocking sort of spatially inclusive performance experience. imagine trying to not listen to the screams while absorbed in strolling and looking at the art on the walls, or being nonchalant gallery-waltzers

who dont react. people do tend to steer clear of an invasive audio setup in the middle of the floor. they are circling the edges of the space. the mic stand is impressive and foreboding, it stands alone a good part of the time. people are not lining up to scream into it.

you can see how our screamer rushes out of that set-up. being there longer means you have to own the scream or maybe do another one. and then there are some other clips where it's clear the people are not really screaming, mock screaming, maybe, but a few didnt get even a croak out.

so i am going to scream as much as i can today. screw the neighbors. i wont even shut the windows, i might even do it out in the garden. i'll probably be arrested if i escalate with it, so i will place some limits, perhaps three screams is enough so as not to arouse defensive actions. actually one should be enough but hey, reaction times are not linear

i remember once when that writer friend said he had 'lost the words' - i could not imagine, alas, here now i imagine the scream would be in a sense, a healthy, cathartic at least, substitute for words.

scream

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?"