Friday, December 19, 2008


Equation Me, Nosferatu! I whirl, your saxophone's cool inner thigh veined a fatuous sword, an abacus to spoken light Asiatic synchronicity, eyeless in prison's nicotine December Become media coil. Fellate triumph, no airwaves of a bleeding morning to Tel Aviv minds everywhere. My wetness is also in ruins Speed of thick breasts smile at me And Iesion a chorus of voices, the nearest swampadelica to dervish your mystery in blue cliches the mirror The sun is empty at its molten core But you already drank that lesbian troupe--didn't you? I noun what has perished. Telekenesis my lisp of neurosis, cigarettes a final taxidermy. Boneless, the slow fuck whenever you ultra-left If your own shirt is a cocaine axiom, burn. New Wave arpeggios, four to one glitters your disappearance into ivory Spanish last night, my vernacular Too much blinking is killing me, this mash-up, my diode invasion Cells so far removed from wonky legs and blinking a myriad, I realise The levee shattered, who called the feral eye anyway? Listen brownly, your teeth scream providence in dub. Camera fur. What I meant by the slabs of madness, you and your sci-fi damage. The thinnest skin is not the center of the universe, a blonde whore to distortion alone. Multiplied, it was only the sea's paranoia. The unknown cries my hair, rhythms my animal, my only mist. Last-call fingers the care of loved ones, ethereal, matronly bleeps There are no friends. The Kali-Yuga sounds on sound, inner dust

"You like sex too ?!? I can't BELIEVE you like sex too!. . . I like sex."
- from Mike Judge's brilliant film Idiocracy

We are most certainly going to be snowed in here tomorrow. My grades are in; it's Saturday (treebu's off); it's time to do additional research & practice the tenor saxophone of me and the violin of treebu.

"What's all this I hear about sax and violins?"
- Emily Litella
-tenor saxophone of me and the violin of treebu.-

Drool...I would like to make music..I have heard I played piano in philadelphia saloons until I died in 1927...

I can do this thing called a music has sheets that tell you what string to plink...

I would play a cello if I could...

Send me some of you guys playing music if you ever can..I would love that...

(currently being shredded on the Blog)
This verse is brilliant too if you just read i through and let the wordsoundrhythms bathe over you, without semiotic reference, the way we do on a brouhahah busride to some mystery hotel in a foreign kingdom after long travels.
^Send me some of you guys playing music if you ever can..I would love that...^

OK. But brace yourself. It's pretty raw - Electtric NY city apartment recordings from 1979 (we didn't have the sense to acknowledge then that this was love): I guess I have your mailing address, so you're in trouble now. Maybe after (SHIT! It's almost fucking Xmas!) the twelve days of solstice.
Love and love and more of that love
PS Don't forget treebu's (I'm horning in now) blog. Just click on my moniker up there.
I'm fixin' to put up some more (from Steinbeck in the 1930s) right now, as soon as I can shift around to type with TWO hands.
I say xoxo, treebu'd say the same but she's busy saying zzzz. - mmm.
*Being shredded on the blog*

Observation: When many of the people in a folk group come to love you, you become a "peraonage," and people start projecting whatever it is upon you.

As we SAY in Vermont, "I don't know about that." But I do know this: it's what I wrote for both (maybe all) of us on "the blog" after you got fed up and left last night (you can check this), and I say it again now:

G'night Alice
Submitted by ellwort on Fri, 12/19/2008 - 3:09am.
Fuck it. We're all just images in your dream.
There are scary people.
There are ambiguously infuriating people.
But thanks for inviting us guys in.
Relax - enjoy yourself.
There's a tune coming.

- The Diurnal Cycles
-- The Diurnal Cycles--

What is this all about? Did you make it up? Very curious...tell me more please....
Alice - What was that all about? It was mostly a sympathetic response to you and your expansion on an earlier elsewhere remark about bering "shredded on the blog" - e.g., "I despise the blog as a whole at times for being such (what I think of as) party hacks."

Folk groups and Folk lore - right in front of us every day. - Arch the Folklore teacher

There is something Jung-dreamlike (at least for T & me for whom all of you exist as sort of dream figures) about the blog; that was in there too - "figments."

Diurnal Cycles was a just-popped-into-my-head phrase, 'cause they (the cycles) have been so uneven lately. Wouldn't it make a great name for a band?
Ooooooooooh I see now... Yes great band name. I understand what you mean about the figment of dreams and dream figures...

I wish I could send you ALL of my thoughts and experiences during my first year or so on the blog in one large data packet. It was terrifying for me to put it mildly...

Love you twoz!

Very interesting and visceral poetry. I likey, I likey!

It kinda slithers around untouched like an eel in my brain, defying the usual interpretations.

Take care, Alice :-)

Oh yea...I have a new blog you might enjoy:

Not much added to it yet, but it should be an interesting ride, lol.

Good to read ya! Thanks for staying in touch..

Checking out your new blog...

Hope you are healthy and well...

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