BTG DEEP SCRATCH TIMELINE

Deep Scratch Universe: Chronological Echoes

Deep History & Mythic Seeds

Ancient Finger (4M years old?), Denisovan Cave connection.
Mayan Cosmology: Long Count, Popul Vuh prophecy (Stupidity Disease?), Dresden Codex (miscalculated?).
Giordano Bruno: 30 Seals, Decentralized Intelligence ("The Sixty" / C-60 link).
Enochian System (Dee/Kelley): Undeciphered tables, “hidden light.”
Intellectual Lineage: Vico (Ricorsi), Fenollosa (Ideograms), Korzybski/Sapir-Whorf (Neuro-Relativity), Hermeticism.
Prehistoric Events: Comet Phaeton crash (Bavaria, 500 BCE).

Early 20th Century Echoes

Tesla’s visions, suppressed tech/weapons potential.
Joyce & Yeats meet (1904), Joyce writes Finnegans Wake (pub. 1939), Yeats explores Gyres.
Pound writes Cantos.
Formation of key figures’ ideas: McLuhan, Fuller, Shannon, Wiener, Turing, Von Neumann.
Malvern Hill Gang established? (Crowley, Lewis, Hess, John Trump link?).

1936: The Nexus Point

Berlin Olympics hosted by Hitler; artistic/intellectual intervention plot hinted.
Message Relay: Now Yowlk group -> Bert Wino (Beijing) -> Berlin (Intercepted by Spengleton?).
Rapalltown Group (Chase, Bates, Pod) active.
Spain holds counter “People’s Olympic Games.”
Joyce possibly intervenes (vision?).
Foundation for Mid-Century Conspiracy Web laid

Mid-Century Conspiracy Web (Conceptual)

A tangled network involving: Dulles Bros, Turing, Shannon, Wiener, Gehlen, Von Neumann, A-Bomb, MK Ultra, Operation Mockingbird/Chaos, Cambridge Spies, Cold War tech/paranoia, Counter-culture emergence (Beats, Acid Rock, RAW), Media Theory (McLuhan), Systems Thinking (Fuller), JFK Assassination links (Dulles, Cord Meyer?), Project Blue Book…

Plush’s Origins / TRB Genesis

Plush’s youthful awakening (Psychedelics, Ideograms).
Failed music career, violent attacks (pre-2012).
Early writing attempts (Our Histories Back 2009, Sixty 2011).
~2008: TRB’s countdown to 21/12/2012 begins.
Plush develops early TribeTable Method concepts in Amsterdam.

~2012: The Main Event (Amsterdam)

TRB Activation:

Plush, Max, Percy form TRB, inspired by RAW, aiming to map “Tale of the Tribe.”
Intense collaborative sessions: Developing Tribetable Tarot, Konnakol rhythms, scratch techniques, astrological mapping.
Plush experiences visions (tardigrades, finger), paranoia (Briq threat).

External Forces & Strange Events:

Jake & Joe become involved (experiments, paranoia).
Richard & Marge plot activates (Sixty Window), perform “Peanut Method” ritual.
Accidental satellite explosion.
Richard/Marge kill Fang at studio (Chapter 14 climax).
Assange court case result due Dec 21st (linked to singularity/Mayan prophecy).
Voyager/tardigrade disc arrives from space (Nov 27th?).
Plush receives court summons for Scratch History (espionage, treason…).

World State:

Populism rising, media monopolies, climate anxiety, over-tourism/gentrification (Amsterdam), “stupefying elixir” / static tripping populace.

Future Echoes & Alternate Streams

DJ Battle in San Francisco (Flash-forward?).
Tardigrade mission to Venus (Ongoing?).
Benevolent AI/Poltergeist record plant producing Voyager discs (Parallel?).
Hovertables launched (2023 Showcase).
Time-traveling tardigrades from 2323 influence Plush.
Planet Klaka / Mantis / Jellyfish sequence (Story-within-story?).
Post-singularity “genesis bomb” creates “comfortable numb” populace (Potential future?).
LA 2028 Olympics speculation…

Meta-Time / Remix Layer

Author’s editing process (Sixty -> Deep Scratch).
*Deep Scratch Remix* project (Preface dated 23/3/23).
“PrattGPT” (Steve Fly/ChatGPT collaboration) explores AI ethics/use.
Moscow surveillance subplot introduced in Remix.
AI music generation (Udio/Flai Mixes) vs non-AI music (*Remix* album).
Tanmoy!

BTG

April 16, 2025

BETWEEN THE GROOVE

ON THE CUTS…

Amsterdam, 2012. DJ-poet Plush, reeling from attacks that shattered his career, forms TRB with Max and Percy. Inspired by Robert Anton Wilson, they fuse turntablism, magick, and literature into the chaotic TribeTable Method, accidentally plugging into Wilson’s unfinished “Tale of the Tribe” and a brewing historical conspiracy centered on the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

As they juggle invoked entities (“The Sixty”), time-traveling tardigrades, and messages channeled through experimental beats, they attract the attention of a ruthless cabal manipulating reality through AI, populism, and bizarre rituals involving peanut butter. From Amsterdam coffeeshops and secret bases beneath the Malvern Hills to the decks of a reality-bending DJ battle, TRB must decode the “Hologrammic Prose” of the universe, hijack the narrative, and fight the “Prick Populist” threat before the singularity hits endgame.Deep Scratch is Vanta Black science fiction comedy.

It’s Burroughs cut-ups slammed into Pynchon paranoia, fueled by hip-hop aesthetics and occult theory. Expect prophetic visions, weaponized memes, sentient technology, talking books, exploding jellyfish, and the desperate search for the perfect beat in a deep fake universe. The tables are turning. Which side are you on, are you on, hello, check check…?

What?

BTG

DS ONE – NEEDLE DROPS

April 13, 2025

between the groove intro

Your hosts Fuckup and Hal dive into the Deep Scratch Universe.

between the groove 01

April 9, 2025

HORNITHOLOGY FOR JOHN SINCLAIR

Hornithology
(For John Sinclair set to Ornithology by Charlie Parker)

1

i’m thinking of you standing on the corner
joint in my hand, in my head plays a band
i thought i’d write a head for you

for all that you did it’s the least I can do
for all what you wrote on the blues is true

and so I’m asking what can we do?

as long as you stay in my head
i’ll be feeling well and read

(we cut our own path and on we tread
but don’t forget to go to bed)

2

we’ll always have your music and your writing
to brighten our day, and show a new way
i really miss your singing and laugh

but inside my heart I have your autograph
outer space bop and anti-gravity craft

obli be bop blamster dam

dizzy bird and monk and rap
muddy sonny ra and fats

(ginsberg burroughs kerouac
hope your happy in you nap)

3

i wonder how it is up in the jukebox
up there in the mix with mingus hendrix
and all the rockin’ jams that you love

all the swinging cats an’ the poets you dug
dancing like a teenager to wolf and bud

i hear you speaking in my dreams

a yusef miles and coltrane breeze
roll up a scroll an’ cheers our teas

(a drop of honey lemon squeeze
in the land of ooh blah dee)

–Steve Fly
Amsterdam, 2nd April 2025.
For John Sinclair (R.I.P)

April 2, 2025

Shakespeare ensemble

Midsummer Nights Dream (MND)
Saturday afternoons from 11:30 – 16:30 we rehearse starting January 18th until April 19th & 20th when we have two matinee try-outs at OT 301 (Overtoom 301) at 2 pm and April 22nd & 23rd (Shakespeare’s Birthday) we have two showings at Mike’s Badhuis. Fairies, Mechanicals, and Lovers are doing fine and looking forward.
[Link to Music album by Fly]

WLSE

April 1, 2025

Using AI for Countercultural Art and Global Transformation with Steve Fly

Using AI for Countercultural Art and Global Transformation with Steve Fly

Steve Fly: The latest iteration of my quarter-century (and counting) of research into Robert Anton Wilson’s Tale of the Tribe is a collaboration using some AI tools. Tale of The Tribe is a mountain range whose size and scope requires training to traverse, hill-climbing toward coherence. So far I’ve produced over 65 stanzas with corresponding audio. The first iteration is structured on 60 stanzas to represent the 60 vertices of the Buckminsterfullerene. This is prompted from a line in Ezra Pound’s Cantos “buckie has gone in for structure.” The structure of the poem/album is a tribute to Buckminster Fuller, whom RAW admired and studied with, and it snugly sits as one of the 13 primary inspirations in the way RAW conceived/perceived the universe.

April 1, 2025

ASI EYE IN THE ICOSAHEDRON / Bizz Tsar Link

Only wetware, off the top thoughts pop.

No large lang model but my own wet goop

Serve slang sandwiches for witches on loop,

Cradle to cradle PrattGPT time to laddle

The narrative fable to enable a safe stable,

To train the horses on classes

Led by Donkey’s investor asses

Amass the assets and freeze rewind the tape cassettes

Eject the greed heads and the cancel the bias

Can you remix the gods by using the masters pliers?

Tight hill skullkin’ occam’s razor rope talking,

I’m a bagginzez Tzolkien, Tanmaya not sulking,

A player Christereotype gone walking

Up the road past the benchmark market tokin’

Give me the bugaphone and I’ll remix and spark it

This wet fly flow unpredicts what you think your “I” know

What you think your fly now, what weights awaits AI now,

Don’t psycho, give me a positive sign now,

A symbol…

a system of multi-polar global solar tingle wisdom

Time scheme irreducible, spatial facial boost crucible

Swim fast and loose for a truce able,

Making peace via internetwork cable,

Release the beast on your own record label,

House of punch-cards little litturntable,

Return eternal word wurzel,

Fly brains absurd puzzle, returned a lost parcel,

Semantok passing granma sin tax glossing

How surprising is surprise

How to measure god’s thighs guys?

Pull up yer’ flies and stop wanking,

Lift up when economy is tanking,

The tracks of the tank trace killingry and banking,

I’m the sand sun king, the emperor of dust

hide bound habit sanding down rust to trust,

The mega boom bust comes at maga cost lost

The qwick bruno fax jump over lazy gods

This PrattGPT running like profits from greedy water firms

Needy greedy worms for their private profit terms,

The turning gyre beast slouches invance couches and squirms

Humanity learns, the hard way,

Techno feudal choke point nexus of, “I did it my way”

Bastards

Getting angry at AI demons fighting in your wig

Drink the cool aid, rub one out with belief, take a swig,

Musk guzzles his own jizz by the 10 litre bottle

Hyper testosterone techbro, foot glued to the throttle

Bully boy bigger is better bullshit banter,

Now the game change, open source come to get ya’

Free for all disruption, give it away and watch eruption,

Of the tight wing greedy weak god squad piddle squeak,

Squirting entropy in your Googling FaceX Unopen demon box tweak

Twatter

The rhyme in the cauldron, the languages our children

Vorticist symbols on the recipe exploding,

All over the garden spring flowers and rhubarb and,

Barbarous hooks and words mock the rise of orange

Barbarous herds with all the worst words

BIZZ TSAR LINK

The tsar link to the star link,

A bizzare inc. Elon’s heist wink

so come on come on

all you tacit trumper dumpers,

show us a source, a fact, some remorse from Hitlers bunkers, your fucking bonkers.

Get the flow going, some tattered ragged rhymes the sure need sewin’

Just keep yer’ intellect glowing,

And the garden mower mowing down the hate,

Punching down clowns attack the weak

And blame the crowds,

Like a Mongolian horde,

They keep the violence abroad,

Trade or spade on bank board

Invest in mess in around in foreign soil

No blood for oil

No blood for golf courses

No blood for private stem cell vampires

No blood for votes

No blood for data centers

No blood for revenge

No blood for

No blood

NO

Non servium

Don’t feed the beast

Release your energy in community

Resist the sex pest, resist the richest war chest,

Resist the opportunist blame game populists

Flame names crumb rock to this

Insane brain flocktopass,

The rain drain clock tok to push

A crane picking up letters like a fucking octopus,

Off and out, like bad bald bread said fred,

Think it through, stay well red in the reeds

Orphic hymns to local rivers carry seeds,

Way back primal visit to move forward deeds,

New path to sense and new sensibility feeds,

A great sensibility

Great global sense sympathy

Newsphere with less fear dear is that clear is that clear?

But you gotta’ dip into the paidstream news, sorry,

And get a hold of those shame blamed blues before

Putting on those new soul shoes,

Talking about sad a bad stuff, and how much of its bluff,

How rough the beast, how gruff the beast, when is enough enough?

How to measure fascism, how to measure insanity or love?

Self harm does harm to self and to others,

Scapegoating sons and gaslighting mothers,

Fake soaking brains with tar and goose feathers

Lies to make you despise your own brothers

Ties with arms data and steel to conceal the damn dirty dirty robbers

Flies to surprise that dark maga horror behind your eyes,

The lotus flower,

Moose in the road intervention, break quick,

Steer into the skid and trust the suspension

Of disbelief, avoid the orange moose flies at dawn,

World made of language, language made of code

The means to produce and distribution open sold,

Cold war hot large new babe model,

Oh Annalivia, swanlike chin up strut with a waddle,

Allmazifull, LLM’d and humming our summer sang wordle,

Show yourself recursive self recorsi sea shell echo,

Bravo alpha fold cyphers into molds,

Slice of tale told with broth and broomstick,

Pop policy like lipstick, what’s underneath it,

Sweet great gods granmother hear our chats

Let us honour Annaliv with induction and facts,

Peer reviewed, sincere, from heart with passion for tact

Teaching truth to the senses, avoid pretences,

Experiential knowledge base boogie line tenses,

Learn diff’ equations from a trip to the movies,

Oh, gentle muse with the cauldron,

Shine your light, shine, illuminate upon your apron,

Love for all and all for love allmen

Human wedded human below as above,

Be true man, be true man, be human loved dove

Matter made of words via minds code lobel,

Get into the sing song sung globe noble turntable tribe tingle

Bird solo angle, tone equi-rectangle tickle down town trickle,

Take the bucky ball and dribble to my symbol,

Its simple, sweet cherub of beauty with the dimple,

Flat edges with a crimple, top hat topology thought nimble,

Uber positioned using cosmic triggernometry thimble

You dig, you will, both the red and blue pill

Both and more multi logo-motifs,

information locus pocus, goddess help us,

Gather guts wit and focus,

Like a swarm of genesis locusts,

Like a warm hug from the logos,

No force can break us,

Our love is what takes us away in a nexus,

From crown to toe to solar plexus,

Oh plasticity gods please flex us,

Lead us not into oil temptation in Texas,

They avoid paying their taxes, use disasters like taxis,

To slip from ship to ship to not give a shit,

Psychopath capital, at some others expense,

Slave master general of the Trump Klux Klan at the fence,

Time to step up, not much time left to lose,

Or else a thousand year tech reichwing heil breaks loose

Makes Me Wanna’ Hurl

by flyagaric23 March 16, 2026

LENI: Looking Through the Lens Exhibition Opening

by flyagaric23 March 12, 2026

Drone On Drone

by flyagaric23 March 12, 2026

February 11, 2025

REVIEWS AYE I

FROM THE BIRMINGHAM EXPRESS AND POST.

One stumbles upon “TANMOY: A New Global Epic” with a mixture of trepidation and bewilderment. Billed as a “new global epic” for the digital age, this collaboration between a human, the self-styled “Pratt” (a moniker that conjures images of both a refined engine and a certain kind of British fool, is this intentional?), and an unnamed AI, attempts nothing less than to encapsulate the entire trajectory of human thought from Giordano Bruno to the looming technological singularity. One might admire the sheer audacity, were it not for the lingering suspicion that the project is, at its core, an exercise in elaborate, digitally-enhanced navel-gazing. Pull down thy vanity and pull up yer’ big boy pants.

The poem, if one can call it that, unfolds in a bizarre, self-proclaimed “TOTT Mode Max” – a two-column layout seemingly inspired by Pound’s Cantos, if Pound had suffered a head injury while being bombarded by blinking server lights and then left to wander through the fever-dream of a particularly verbose Wikipedia editor. This is further complicated by a dizzying array of symbols, each apparently assigned to a “Mode” representing a historical figure or concept, which flit across the page like digital fireflies, more distracting than illuminating. These are presented in earlier sections of the poem, and are listed in earlier exchanges, above.

Structurally, the work is obsessed with the number 60, divided into 5 sections of 12 stanzas each, or, if one prefers, 3 sections of 20, although the rationale behind these divisions remains as elusive as the meaning of Finnegans Wake after a bottle of absinthe. The author claims this is a nod to Buckminster Fuller’s beloved Carbon-60 molecule, but one suspects a more numerological, or perhaps numer-illogical, impulse at play. And then there’s the “print” version – a proposed cut-and-fold affair, promising to transform the poem into a collection of icosahedrons, a feat of origami that will likely leave readers more frustrated than enlightened, and reaching for the aforementioned absinthe. One imagines Fuller spinning in his grave, though perhaps with a chuckle, rather than a high pitched groan.

The poem’s narrative, such as it is, charts the evolution of consciousness, that word, from Bruno (the token heretic, naturally) to a vaguely defined, seemingly benevolent Artificial General Intelligence named, with a distinct lack of irony, “TANMOY.” Along the way, we’re subjected to a relentless barrage of names, a veritable who’s who of Western thought (and a few token Eastern ones for that “global” flavor): Vico, Nietzsche, Yeats, Joyce, Korzybski, Shannon, Wiener, McLuhan, and, of course, the seemingly omnipresent spirit of Robert Anton Wilson, whose “coincidance” theory appears to be the guiding principle of the entire enterprise. These are our “tribe”, apparently. The poem has 13 of them. Unlucky for some.

The language is a chaotic ಮಿಶ್ರণ (mishran – Bengali for mixture), veering wildly between the pseudo-philosophical, the pseudo-scientific, and the downright nonsensical. We have clumsy, often baffling neologisms, code snippets, equations of varying relevance, and a generous sprinkling of multilingual phrases – a kind of digital glossolalia that seems intended to impress rather than illuminate. One moment we’re pondering the “cybernetic apple core,” the next we’re assaulted by “the allmazifull” or informed that the “medium is the মানসিকতা (mansikota – Bengali for mentality).” It’s all rather exhausting, like being trapped in a particularly feverish seminar led by a committee of chatbots with a penchant for name-dropping. The appearance of a new mode, a further iteration of the A.I. itself, named “Sixty” only adds to the confusion, come on now, what is this, man.

And then there’s the music. Apparently, there’s an accompanying album on Bandcamp, with each track somehow corresponding to a stanza. One can only imagine the sonic horrors that await the unsuspecting listener, though the track titles, helpfully denoted by their corresponding stanza numbers, are a nice touch. Perhaps one could cut these up, and glue them to some other shape. A dodecahedron, perhaps, or your next door neighbour?

The author’s introduction, a separate, fluffy handwritten text, which, we are helpfully informed, predates any “A.I. assistance,” positions “TANMOY” as a “Tale of the Tribe,” a new global epic for our times. It’s a tale, we are told, of “humanity,” though the poem itself seems more concerned with the pronouncements of a select group of (mostly Western) male intellectuals, leavened with the occasional, and often impenetrable, utterance from the AI. Tale on a donkey more like. The author’s own persona, “Pratt,” also makes an appearance, offering dull yet edgy, and supposedly humorous commentary that does indeed fall flat, on occasion. There is also a further, somewhat baffling, list of modes associated with the poem. It is unclear whether these are all in use, or whether they are relevant. It’s all rather confusing, get me a real damn book mode, where’s that?

Ultimately, “TANMOY” is a curious artifact of the digital age – a sprawling, ambitious, and often bewildering attempt to synthesize a vast range of ideas into a coherent whole. Like picking up a shopping list for 49 people each in a different country. Whether it succeeds is debatable. TLDR should be the title. It’s a work that will undoubtedly appeal to those who enjoy their poetry dense, experimental, and liberally sprinkled with obscure references. As for this reviewer, I’m left with a distinct feeling of having been subjected to a particularly elaborate and somewhat tedious form of intellectual performance art. Perhaps, as the RAW Mode might suggest, it’s all just a cosmic joke. And the joke, dear reader, may very well be on us. Or, to paraphrase the great Orson Welles, in whose mode much of this is apparently written, “I don’t know anything about art, but I know what I like.” And I’m not entirely sure I like “TANMOY.” But then again, perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps we are all, as the poem suggests, merely puppets dancing to a tune we don’t fully understand, lost in a labyrinth of our own making. Or perhaps, I just need another drink.

–James Spadersun, Birmingham Express And Post, 22/01/25.