Day Forty - "We're Walking In Clouds Here"

Bachelors Of Science - The Beautiful Life
pressed in 2009
































This blog happens with the effort of many different people who through inspiration, concentration, and/or unknowing collaboration make swimming gritty possible. Thank you.

sweaty crease 38

Soju & play

swcrease38.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Bill Evans Trio - Sugar Plum
pressed in 1971












Several centuries ago, the Pope decreed that all the Jews had to leave Italy. There was, of course, a huge outcry from the Jewish community, so the Pope offered a deal. He would have a religious debate with a leader of the Jewish community. If the Jewish leader won the debate, the Jews would be permitted to stay in Italy. If the Pope won, the Jews would have to leave.

The Jewish community met and picked an aged rabbi, Moishe, to represent them in the debate. Rabbi Moishe, however, could not speak Latin, and the Pope could not speak Yiddish. So it was decided that this would be a 'silent' debate.

On the day of the great debate, the Pope and Rabbi Moishe sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Rabbi Moishe looked back and raised one finger. Next, the Pope waved his finger around his head. Rabbi Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat. The Pope then brought out a communion wafer and a chalice of wine. Rabbi Moishe pulled out an apple. With that, the Pope stood up and said, "I concede the debate. This man has bested me. The Jews can stay."

Later, the cardinals gathered around the Pope, asking him what had happened. The Pope said, "First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up one finger to remind me that there was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my finger around me to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground to show that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and the wafer to show that God absolves us of our sin. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything. What could I do?

Meanwhile, the Jewish community crowded around Rabbi Moishe, asking what happened. "Well," said Moishe, "first he said to me, 'You Jews have three days to get out of here.' So I said to him, 'Not one of us is going to leave.' Then he tells me the whole city would be cleared out of Jews. So I said to him, 'Listen here, Mr. Pope, the Jews....we stay right here!'"


"And then?" asked a woman.
"Who knows?" said Rabbi Moishe. "We broke for lunch." - Zadie Smith (cut)

Day ThirtyNine - Plastic Logo(s)

The Timewriter - Words
pressed in 2000






















hold on tight
to the words of the evolution
hold on right
i have the solution


"The way they live in the shadows, live willingly with death. The way they hate many things you hate. Their discipline and cunning. The coherence of their lives. The way they excite, they excite admiration. In societies reduced to blur and glut, terror is the only meaningful act. There's too much everything, more things and messages and meanings than we can use in ten thousand lifetimes. Inertia-hysteria. Is history possible? Is anyone serious? Who do we take seriously? Only the lethal believer, the person who kills and dies for faith. Everything else is absorbed and processed and incorporated. Give him a dollar, put him in a TV commercial. Only the terrorist stands outside. The culture hasn't figured out how to assimilate him. It's confusing when they kill the innocent. But this is precisely the language of being noticed, the only language the West understands. The way they determine how we see them. The way they dominate the rush of endless streaming images. I said in London, Bill. It's the novelist who understands the secret life, the rage that underlies all obscurity and neglect. You're half-murderers, most of you." - Don DeLillo (cut)

sweaty crease 37

Play, Ivy

swcrease37.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Club Ice - Manhasset
pressed in 1992


















we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be

will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be

aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah

there is a place where i wanna take you in my spare time
and this place will rock you and really blow, blow your mind
i don't know about you, but i really, really, really, really want to go
the repetition is strong and the bassistic can on and on

aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah (don't you wanna go)
(dont you wanna go)
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah

to a place, to a place called Manhasset
to a place, to a place called Manhasset
to a place called Manhasset

aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah

open your hands and let the sound come in
you will find in your mind that you like and you love it
oohhh, i'm talkin' bout the music
i'm talkin' bout the music, woah, yeah

aw baby, yea, aw baby (don't you wanna go)
(don't you wanna go)

sure you do
(work it) (work it)












don't want to go with me (work it)
i'll take you there (work it)
don't you want to go with me (work it)
i'll take you there with me, oh yea,ee,ee,yeah (work it)
don't you wanna go (work it)

the party people will be work, will will be work
will be working you
(will be work, will will be work, we'll be)
like they're working me
don't you wanna go, go with me
to a place, to a place, called Manhasset
to a place, to a place called Manhasset
to a place called Manhasset


will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
aw baby, yea, aw baby, yeah
will be work, will will be work, we'll be
will be work, will will be work, we'll be

Day ThirtyEight - Marketing BS; Management

Potential BadBoy & Yush - You're Mine
remix by DJ Hype
pressed in 2004









dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no

wha!!!
wake the talentened people
'bout to bein' disco'n be your way
don't you bother bein' no far away

dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no



wake the talentened people
'bout to bein' disco'n be your way
don't you bother bein' no far away

wha!!!
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
i never could let you go
oh no
oh no
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
oh no
oh no
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
no mercy tonight!
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
dj hype
he'll never let you go
you're mine
wake the talentened people
'bout to bein' disco'n be your way
don't you bother bein' no far away
no mercy tonight!
come again and do't right
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
you're mine
i'll never let you go
you're mine
dj hype
he'll never let you go
oh no
dj hype
dj hype




















Hungarian Language:

savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura…words of nectar and cyanide. - Emile Cioran (cut)

sweaty crease 36

Monsters & Noh, Play

swcrease36.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Vikter Duplaix - That Night
pressed in 2002








When passion comes late in life for the first time, it is harder to give up. And those who meet this beast late in life are offered only devilish choices. Will they say goodbye to what they know and set sail on an unknown sea with no certainty of land again? Will they dismiss those everyday things that have made life tolerable and put aside feelings of old friends, a lover even? In short, will they behave as if they are twenty years younger with Canaan just over the ridge?
Not usually.

And if they do, you will have to strap them to the mast as the boat pulls away because the siren calls are terrible to hear and they may go mad at the thought of what they have lost.
That is one choice.
Another is to learn to juggle; to do as we did for nine nights. This soon tires the hands if not the heart.
Two choices.







The third is to refuse the passion as one might sensibly refuse a leopard in the house, however tame it might seem at first. You might reason that you can easily feed a leopard and that your garden is big enough, but you will know in your dreams at least that no leopard is ever satisfied with what it's given. After nine nights must come ten and every desperate meeting only leaves you desperate for another. There is never enough to eat, never enough garden for your love.

So you refuse and then you discover that your house is haunted by the ghost of a leopard.

- Jeanette Winterson (cut)

Day ThirtySeven - Don't Stop, Can't Stop

Gemini - Swimmin' Wit' Sharks
pressed in 1999




























(while swimmin' round these sharks, keep your eyes out on your heart)

while swimmin' round these sharks (sharks!)
keep your eyes out on your heart (heart!)
while swimmin' round these sharks (sharks!)
keep your eyes out on your heart (heart!)

man, that dude is a nosy little boy all up in my biz
got me out here yellin' knowin' damn well i don't wanna become a felon
one day i'll know why you like to throw lies (lies!)
probably when i make you take off that disguise
(help you fly)

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

ok, so now your insecurities led you to uh, fuck with me
tryin' to hold me down baby, haven't you heard i'm free (free!)
look at you standing there workin' like a politician yet on another mission
screaming peace! on the side of the beast (beast!)

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

but now, instead of trying to understand me
you look me in my eyes and try to underhand me? man...
i see, like Reagan all of a sudden you can't remember, respect
alright man, cameras ready, prepare to get wrecked (wrecked!)

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

yeah, that's you, you wanna-be
sittin' at the opera sippin' on vodka
thinkin' of ways to gank another dollar
and instead of spending your time on your mind
you stay behind in line, man
cause you blind, you blinded baby!

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

yeah, you know, he was on the phone actin' like this here was in the dark
knowin' damn well i know he's a shark
now i will no longer be holdin' back
just exposing cats who don't know how to act right
when i'm in their sights

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

now, stop that cryin' man, you ain't the only one dyin' man
can't you see this world is yours as well as mine, man?
maybe if you get up off your ass, you'll get on the right path
you know the math

while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
while swimmin' round these sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart

see, in '96 shit wasn't legit, cause them fools thought they could control me
now it's almost '99 and we about to shine (shine!)
some say you were lost man, i say you were misguided
'cause you left the cash in your hands and you got too excited (sorry!)

while swimmin' round these sharks, sharks
keep your eyes out on your heart
keep your eyes out on your heart

look at 'em
runnin' around trying to get me caught up in their mix
knowin' damn well i know them tricks
you know what i'm sayin'?
that one kid Sid?
tried to put my soul in a jar and close the lid
he thought i'd be dead by now with all my drinkin' and smokin'
he didn't know god put me here to cause a commotion
let's go
and yes, and yes, i know it's all about business for y'all
and i can forgive this
but please bear witness
to what happens when you try to diss this
you know i mean?
just like you, you know, ah, like in the beginnin'
i was sinnin' but now that my eyes are open, i'm winnin'
you know what i mean? that's just how it is an shit
least where i come from and where i stand here
shoot, these kids and frustration come from a lack of information
these kids and frustration comes from a lack of communication
that's what it's about
with this
i was told when i was young, man
people would try to change and bury your history
and make your life a mystery
and they do that shit
because psychologically this society is fucked (fucked!)
there's a lot of people livin' around here (in fear)
in fear or just stuck (stuck!)

sweaty crease 35

Rain, Decay & Play.

swcrease35.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Q Base - The Rain (version idjut)
pressed in 1999












Zuggtmoy – [syncretic; assumed from Greek ζυγόν, a yoke or joining piece (cf. ζεύγνυμι) + τμῆμα, a cut, wound or section, τμήγω] A Demoness strongly associated with fungal forms and grave mould, laymenly written to inhabit or rule the 222nd layer of the Abyss. Oldest magical reference is an example of dream summoning, (3rd century, PGM XIi 151-155):


Spell for demanding a dream from ZUGGTMOI.
I call on you the headless goddess who has sight in her feet. You who cut and chain.
Arise, daimon. I conjure you daimon by your two names: Zuggtmoi-anouth. You are the headless goddess.
Answer me.



Associated with the bright yellow Plasmodial slime mold Fuligo septica, colloquially “dog’s vomit,” which in Finnish lore is called paranvoi, or “butter of the familiar,” thought used to maliciously spoil neighbor’s milk. Gray Jay (Perisoreus canadensishe), the mould beetles Anisotoma and Agathidium are also seen as sacred to the Demoness, as they are often found in the presence and her mold form. Fuligo septica holds extreme resistance to the metal toxicity. Thought to omnipresently live on the “radiance” of decay, the demoness is the quintessential invisible deity of the grave, loathsome to mourners and keepers of the dead, upon whom she is said to unsuspectingly feed.





This suggests that if we allow an ontology of powers that bubble up from below, from the very matter of matter, we are faced with a world primordially chaotic of its intents. Any intelligence is swarming, polyvalent but still planal, or vectored, like so much threatening mold and fungi that at most grow up from and adhere to an omni-present death process. Steven Johnson’s Emergence begins with Toshiyuki Nakagaki’s work on slime molds in which he made one of the amoeba like creatures find a path through a maze towards a food. The mindless functioning of life, of life moving towards goals without any form of intelligence – creatures that function in a completely bottom up fashion. - KVOND (cut)

Day ThirtySix - Grooves & Turnings

Butch - Kaleidoscope Eyes
pressed in 2008






In front of the eye: red blue yellow green brown gray purple violet gray-blue violet-gray in various combinations or forms move by in a faintly maintained rhythm. These are the pleasures of the mind.






The mistake is allowing oneself to be desperate. The mistake is believing that indulgence in desire a decision to follow desire isn't possibly painful. Desire drives everything away: the sky, each building, the enjoyment of a cup of cappuccino. Desire makes the whole body-mind turn on itself and hate itself.





Desire is Master and Lord.


The trick is to figure out how to get along with someone apart from desire if that's at all possible.
The body is sick and grows away from the perceiver. As old age comes the body gets sicker. All this is inevitable. When the body's sick, also the nerves are sick, the mind becomes sick because it no longer knows if it can trust itself. The scream no longer against pain, pain is now accepted as part of living, but against doubt begins.







I'm going to tell you something.

The author of the work you are now reading is a scared little shit. She's frightened, forget what her life's like, scared out of her wits, she doesn't believe what she believes so she follows anyone. A dog. She doesn't know a goddamn thing she's too scared to know what love is she has no idea what money is she runs away from anyone so anything she's writing is just un-knowledge. Plus she doesn't have the guts to entertain an audience. She should put lots of porn in this book cunts dripping big as Empire State buildings in front of your nose and then cowboy violence: nothing makes any sense anyway. And she says I'm an ass 'cause I want to please.
What'm I going to do? Teach?

- Kathy Acker (cut)

sweaty crease 34

Play, and away and back again.

swcrease34.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Ananda Project - Cascades of Colour
pressed in 1998
















and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music
















and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sun
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip

cascades of colour slip right through your hands
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music

cascades of colour





































An image is a bridge between evoked emotion and conscious knowledge; words are the cables that hold up the bridge. Images are more direct, more immediate than words, and closer to the unconscious. Picture language precedes thinking in words; the metaphorical mind precedes analytical consciousness.


When I create stories in my head, that is, allow the voices and scenes to be projected in the inner screen of my mind, I 'trance.' I used to think I was going crazy or that I was having hallucinations. But now I realize it is my job, my calling, to traffic in images. Some of these film-like narratives I write down; more are lost, forgotten. When I don't write the images down for several days or weeks or months, I get physically ill. Because writing invokes images from my unconscious, and because some of the images are residues of trauma which I then have to reconstruct, I sometimes get sick when I do write. I can't stomach it, become nauseous, or burn with fever, worsen. But, in reconstructing the traumas behind the images, I make 'sense' of them, and once they have 'meaning' they are changed, transformed. It is then that writing heals me, brings me great joy. - Gloria Anzaldua (cut)

Day ThirtyFive - Silver Sans Ethics & Materialism

DJ Mehdi - Leave It Alone
pressed in 2006























First, the Silver Surfer passes over a japanese sea and freezes the water into solid ice.
















Second, the Silver Surfer shoots through the Sahara desert and changes the temperature into one capable of freezing the Sphinx and producing snowflakes.


















Third, The Silver Surfer traverses the Los Angeles air space and shorts the city's electricity supply.
















Yet, the Silver Surfer remains unchanged.





But, if you listen closely, you might hear him humming this as he passes - "party people i'm ready to rock and if you wanna be down you gotta give me whatcha got go on fellas in the place don wanna steal your chrome you got to give it up or leave, leave it alone."



Fragmentation, arbitrary partitions destined to assure the reign of the one who passes, the power of the one who moves, the system of movement of reality and matter and not, as one thinks, of recording, geometry proves to have been the hidden face of this 'movement-power' crafted by the Occident since antiquity. So, if to produce is first of all to move, to measure is to displace, not simply to survey - to displace in order to execute measure - but rather: to displace the territory in its (geometric, cartographic) representation. Its geophysical reality is deported in a geodesic configuration that possesses only one entirely relative anthropocentric value.

To set dimensions is thus to dephase, to dephase with respect to the observer, this geometry, this 'voyeur-surveyor' who produces the measure at the same time as he causes its displacement. In fact, night and day no longer organize life, in this 'false (dromoscopic) day' where sunrise is equivalent to sunset, speed gives rise to life and death, indifferently. As Leo Szilard suggested bitterly on the subject of planetary nuclear annihilation, 'The earth is perhaps not the most important planet in the solar system...'
- Paul Virilio (cut)

sweaty crease 33

Day, Oh! and Play.

swcrease33.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


House of 909 - Beautiful Day
Beautiful Style Mix
pressed in 1998



























oh lord i pray
for this beautiful day
lord of creation...
sun in the sky
dries the tears from my eyes
such a beautiful day
beautiful, beautiful
such a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
beautiful, beautiful
beautiful (beautiful)
beautiful
beautiful, beautiful
beautiful

rejoice my sign
(beautiful, beautiful, beautiful)
beautiful, beautiful (beautiful)
(beautiful, beautiful, beautiful)
'cause i've waited so long...
beautiful, yeah!
(beautiful, beautiful, beautiful)
rejoice to the nation
my sweet love's creation

on this beautiful day
rejoice to the nation
my sweet love's creation
on this beautiful day
the sun in the sky
dries the tears
the sun in the sky
rejoice my sound
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful day
beautiful! yeah!
(beautiful, beautiful, beautiful)
cause i've waited so long
beautiful day
sun in the sky
lord of creation
beautiful! yeah!
(beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful)
beautiful!

oh lord i pray
for this beautiful day
lord of creation
such a beautiful day
(beautiful, beautiful)
rejoice to the nation
my sweet love's creation
on this beautiful day
rejoice to the nation
my sweet love's creation
on this beautiful day
the sun in the sky
dries the tears
the sun in the sky
the sun in the sky
dry the tears from my eye
beautiful day
(beautiful)
beautiful day



A movement was reflected in the mirror beside the door.

A dark thing rose from the floor at the top of the stairs. The thing unfolded. The sense was of a blossoming. An expansion after being enclosed, like a man or woman standing and spreading their arms wide after huddling foetally, but multiplied and made vast. As if the thing's indistinct limbs could bend a thousand times, so that it unhinged like a paper sculpture, standing and spreading arms or legs or tentacles or tails that opened and opened. The thing that had huddled like a dog stood and opened itself, and it was nearly the size of a man.

As Teafortwo tried to bolt past Lublamai and Lublamai tried to open his mouth to scream, his eyes still fixed to the creature in the mirror, his feet skittering on the flagstones, the thing at the top of the stairs opened its wings. The thing made its body thin and spread those colossal wings, massive flat folds of stiff skin that seemed to fill the hall. They were irregular, chaotic in shape, random fluid whorls; but mirror-perfect left and right, like spilt ink or paint patterns on folded paper.

And on those great flat planes were dark stains, rude patterns that seemed to flicker as Lublamai watched and Teafortwo fumbled with the door, wailing. The colours were midnight, sepulchral, black-blue, black-brown, black-red. And the patterns did flicker, the shadow-shapes moved like amoeba in a magnifying lens or oil on water, the patterns left and right still matching, moving in time hypnotic and heavy, faster. Lublamai's face creased. His back itched maniacally with the thought that the thing was behind him. Lublamai spun to face it, gazed directly into the mutating colours, the dusky vivid show...

...and Lublamai no longer thought of screaming but only of watching as those dark markings rolled and boiled in perfect symmetry across the wings like clouds in a night sky above, in water below. The patterns on the wings caught him and he stared, his mouth open, still and silent, agog, slack-jawed and shivering gazing at the magnificent wings.

- China Mieville (cut)

Day ThirtyFour - Many Moons and Suns

Osunlade - Beloved
pressed in 2001





















so,so,so (so)
so,so,so (so)
so,so,so (so)
so,so,so (so)
so,so,so (so)


sweet beloved, ah
your arms
three thousand light years long
beloved
your arms, precious (ay, precious)
sweet beloved, ah
desire the one to be
ahhahahhahahhahahh
sweet beloved, ah
beloved
ooo-ooo-oooo, beloved
desire the one to be
ahhahahhahahhahahh
sweet beloved, ah
beloved
ohnonono
beloved
ohnonononononnoohnohno
beloved
desire the one to be
ahhahahhahahhahahh
sweet beloved, ah
beloved

where
beloved
dance on this one there is gonna love my loved
want to use me everything you want to, beloved
all the things you are to me is all i ever wanna be, beloved
yeah the years are falling through my eyes, beloved
desire the one to be
ahhahahhahahhahahh
sweet beloved, ah
beloved
your arms
three thousand light years long
direction
wrap your arms
round
round, my babe
round my babe
beloved
beloved


















How can I fail to believe in my expressions of myself, my capacity to be able to present myself for acknowledgment? I have this pain, I am proud or ashamed of this deed, humiliated by that thought. But if I fail to believe in the other's acknowledgment of me, must I be failing to believe in the other's capacity's to accept these facts, to measure their reality for me, perhaps to share them? And must this mean that I do not believe the other knows what these feelings are? But the other may perfectly well know.


You mean, I think, that you cannot produce in others the responses you imagine would satisfy you. You cannot enact your character, play your own life. Or, perhaps you can. But then the responses you produce in the other are apt to be directed to the wrong thing, to the part you have enacted, not to you yourself.

To let yourself matter is to acknowledge not merely how it is with you, and hence to acknowledge that you want the other to care, at least to care to know. It is equally to acknowledge that your expressions in fact express you, that they are yours, that you are in them. This means allowing yourself to be comprehended, something you can always deny. Not to deny it is, I would like to say, to acknowledge your body, and the body of your expressions, to be yours, you on earth, all there will ever be of you. - Stanley Cavell (cut)

sweaty crease 32

Tasty, Play (in the dark)

swcrease32.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Susumu Yokota - King Of Darkness
Swell Sessions Stateless Mix
pressed 2002





















Pineapple seeks cheese with own stick.
F, 26, London.
canapesforone@gmail.com
















Even more scrumptious than the last bite.
imagineinthedark@yahoo.com











Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't.
Mark Twain (cut)






these days i'm always surrounded by darkness
these days i'm always surrounded by you
why do i always surrender to your love?
surrender to you

these days i'm always surrounded by darkness
these days i'm always surrounded by you
why do i always surrender to your love?
surrender to you

there used to be sunshine in my life
there used to be sunshine in my life
there used to be tenderness and sunshine in my life

these days i'm always surrounded by darkness
these days i'm always surrounded by you
why do i always surrender to your love?
surrender to you

these days i'm always surrounded by darkness
these days i'm always surrounded by you
why do i always surrender to your love?
surrender to you

there used to be sunshine in my life
there used to be sunshine in my life
there used to be tenderness and sunshine in my life

(sunshine in my life)

Day ThirtyThree - Chronos Delay in Vert

Bogden Irkuk - The Distant Message
remix by Arken
pressed in 2007




























It is Christmas holiday time at Camelot, and the youthful, "even sometimes boyish," King Arthur has vowed not to eat dinner until he hears of, or sees, something exciting and marvelous. Suddenly an enormous stranger gallops into the hall on a large horse, which, like the man himself, is "entirely green." He issues a challenge for anyone to strike him one blow with a huge axe he carries, on condition that he will return the stroke one year later. When no Knight of the Round Table speaks up, he derides them as cowards, infuriating Arthur who is about to do it himself, when Sir Gawain, ever the model courtier, steps forward to take on the task. Arthur hands him the axe and Gawain neatly lops off the Green Knight's head. To everyone's appalled astonishment, the bleeding trunk picks up its head by the long green hair, holds it out on one palm facing King Arthur and Queen Guenevere, and the decapitated head reminds Sir Gawain that he'll be seeing him next New Year's Day at the Green Chapel. Horse and headless rider, the head swinging by its long hair, charge out of the hall, leaving Arthur and Gawain doing their best to make light of it. At least, says Arthur, now he can eat his dinner because he has seen something truly marvelous. - John Ridland & Mary Veazey (translated, cut)



















Rule Two carries the implicit assumption that time is irreversible. It is not necessary to prove anything, simply to state. This is a biologic revolution, fought with new species and new ways of thinking and feeling, a war where the bullet may take a millennia to hit. Like the old joke about the executioner makes a swipe with the samurai sword...well, missed me that time. But just try and shake your head three hundred years from now.
- William S. Burroughs (cut)

sweaty crease 31

Play, naturally.

swcrease31.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Jerome Sydenham & Kerri Chandler - Rising The Sun
pressed in 2001























Gus swallowed his Scotch. "Two is the magic number," he crooned at Memo. "Two makes the world go around." She smiled slightly watching Roy.


He tried to eat but felt numbed.
Max just couldn't stop cackling. Roy felt like busting him one in the snoot.
Gus put his long arm around Memo's bare shoulders. "I have lots of luck, don't I, babyface?"
She nodded and sipped her drink.
The lights went on. The m.c. bobbed up from a table he had been sitting at and went into his routine.
"Six hundred I owe to you," Roy said, throwing Max into another whoop of laughter.
"Forget it, slugger. Maybe some day you might be able to do me a favor."
They were all suddenly silent.
"What kind of favor?" Roy asked.
"When I am down and out you can buy me a cup o' coffee."
They laughed, except Roy.
"I'll pay you now." He left the table and disappeared.
In a few minutes he returned with a white tablecloth over his arm.

Roy flapped out the cloth and one of the spotlights happened to catch it in the air. It turned red, then gold.
"What's going on?" Max said.
Roy whisked the cloth over Gus's head.
"The first installment."
He grabbed the bookie's nose and yanked. A stream of silver dollars clattered into his plate.
Gus stared at the money. Memo looked at Roy in intense surprise.
People at the nearby tables turned to see what was going on. Those in the rear craned and got up. The m.c. gave up his jokes and waved both spots to Roy.
"For Pete's sake, sit down," Max hissed.
Roy rippled the green cloth in front of Max's face and dragged out of his astonished mouth a dead herring.
Everybody in the place applauded.

























From Memo's bosom, he plucked a duck egg.

Gus got red in the face. Roy grabbed his beak again and twisted it - it shed more cartwheels.
"Second installment."
"What the hell is this?" Gus sputtered.
The color wheels spun. Roy turned purple, red, and yellow.
From the glum Mercy's pocket he extracted a long salami. Gus's ears ran a third installment of silver. A whirl of the cloth and a white bunny hopped out of Memo's purse. From Max's size sixteen shirt collar, he teased out a pig's tail.
As the customers howled, Max pulled out his black book and furiously scribbled in it. Gus's blue depressed eye hunted around for a way out but his glass one gleamed like a lamp in a graveyard. And Memo laughed and laughed till the tears streamed down her cheeks. - Bernard Malamud (cut)