DEEP SCRATCH

Author: flyagaric23

  • SNIPPED and Re-ripped’ FROM MY FORTHCOMING NOVEL

    A TALE OF A TRIBE: OUR HISTORYS BACK.

    SNIPPED and Re-ripped’ FROM MY FORTHCOMING NOVEL CONFESSION:
    OUR HISTORYS BACK.

    Prose Tools, Tribe Table’s and MPHDJ method.

    DURING THE AEONS SPENT developing a new MPHDJ method for novel novel composition and historical research nicknamed – tribetablism – Plush has been keeping detailed notes and detailed writings on the subject mutter, which after seven weeks of research and development had become one rather lush Volume if i do say so meself. Plush presented the other two mental patients with a hand bound and illustrated copy of his new workbook.
    Tribtable Biomemicry 1.0PLUSH MPHDJ Productions. 12/11/2012.

    Stylus: Sword, beak, tusk, claw, antennae, sting, tip, crystal.Cut/splt/ ax, knife-blade, Cutting head, NOSE-AIR. East.
    The cutting and etching function of the styli’ combines with the electromagnetic turntable pick-up stylus making a read/write sword/pen that – encodes – all things, made available from the internet of things, with its groove signiture or scratch pattern. The Rhythm, the sound and the colour. Within the realm of biological nature we may find cutting ants, pecking birds, clawing mammals, A walrus tusk stabbing at the ice, beavers teeth knawing wooden logs and trees. All this within the detectable human sensory range. Landscapes can be read/written and interpreted – processed in novel turntriblist ways – with the wax disks and MPHDJ method. Now, using an elaborate system of optics and mirrors that can map, translate and calculate the truly cosmic equations of Universe subtracted from tself, we have a new interface with the reality behind the masks, in some sense.

    Traces made upon the surface of a lake by a aquatic finn, or impressions in the mud or wet clay left by a foot or hoof, hair or finger. Artefacts impressed into the planetary landscape. Recordings left for us to reinterpret, left for us by energy fields – spacetime binding creatures – cutting their way through a given medium. All of these traces made by objects are recorded by the objects that made them, the equation always balances itself within regenerative Universe. Balance. Tone. Volume. Yeah yer right! Which always relates back to the 5 elements in one way or another, or the interplay between the five. Within tribetable land, a kind of electromagnetic orgone field permeates everywhere, everywhen. Just like the way the internet of things covers everywhere and everywhen. The intelligence field is within and without itself. Moving on from the question of who owns the reflection, we find Information waves can travel faster than light and so backwards and forwards through our individual perception of linear time, always seemingly moving forwards, at the moment.

    One day, or NO-DAY, maybe linear time will become non-linear time and the improbable will become the probable. We work on the other side of time. MPHDJ Pattern identity and resolution of opposites. In flux. In Vortex. In spiral time. In spacetime binding BOOTSTRAPS the sweaty feet of industrious DJ’s tap dance music.

    Disk: Shells, Stones, eyeballs, tree trunk-cylinder, flat-fish, lilly pad, Ice-Plate, MountainSigil Graph. Earth, Touch pade. NORTH, Turntable Platter.

    Disks of Earth are a part of the complex interface between the symbolic wheels/Sigils and, the manifested language objects within the Tribetable Universe and – INTERKNOTWERK of TINGS – When the Tribetable functions the sigil-disks are rotating, both reading and writing at the same time, effectively. DJ manipulated Blogjects order the components on AMAZON to construct themselves, writing themselves off and onto more conventional data storage devices. Some picture/symbols and images upon the rotating discs are manifest in hologramic form, raised somewhat from the plane of FLAT view.
    Disk Templates:
    Astrological Charts
    Harmonic Musical Intervals and Chords
    Enochian
    Chinese Ideogramic
    CNS RNA/DNA Genetics
    Periodic Table
    Mayan Dresden Codex
    Beth Luis Nion
    Wildstyle.
    Disk Mediums:
    Wax
    Clay
    Wood
    Glass
    Metal
    Stone
    Flesh
    Papyrus
    Fungus
    Etching Chemicals:
    Saliva
    Water
    Dyes
    Blood
    Sperm
    Dew
    Coconut milk
    Chalk
    Toad-slime

    Microphone: Hairs, Stems, Veins, Penis, snake, tongue, neck, limbs,Brush, Wand of fire. Totem. Table legs, SOUTH.

    The tubular wand is a scale invarient model of the Tribetable Universe, a elongated donut. Tube. Hollow infinite string. Within the chamber well of each nerve, worm-hole, root, string, cable, tree trunk, we find conditions and Oscillation rates, that, are exploited and modified in various was by the microwand-phone of fire. To take the word higher. The great totem macrophone contains the tribatable Universe within its endless tube. The Butterly microphones (microphones with wings) fitter about largely unoticed, until they plug into a lillypad disk, by way of the tongue of the turntaopool toad and explode into a cosmology of things. A Finnegans Wake of stuff and things. A collide-o-scope and phalanx of objects, as you will.

    Headphone-Cups: Blow holes, mouth, coconut shell, jelly-fish, flowers.Pond Water. Mirror. Taste. Tongue. WEST.

    Rotating Platform. Omnidirectional Spirit. Planetary axis. Ball and Socket joint. Slices off the Tube donut.Turntable Tortoise. Tribetable Platter. Tank Turret.

    The rotating platforms within the tribetable Universe’s are the multi-functional junctions for the sound spirit. The PIVOT. The axis itself, the measurable rotational rates. Placed within the context of the magickal elemental pentagram of five elements, the rotational qualities of the tribetable functions enable read/write activity. Astrological, Bio-chemical. Cosmogenetic, Nanoconstructors. Microphone to Macrohome. Built by dope demands. The Tribetables operate across scale, are scale invariant, and rhythm patterns transcend any given medium. VIBRATIONAL elementals ensure a full spectrum of considerations. With the addition of in/out portals for the headphones and microphone, the Tribetable, when HYPERLINKED, consists of the 4 main elements and itself, as the fifth.

    Each component and the tribeable itself are constructed from a sub group of elements, and so on into fields, spirits, winds and stars. Backtoback to gas and air. Change and fluidity. Hence the revolutionary process. Change and becoming. DNA range and re-arrangement of the stars by way of tables of law, dropping beats other than 4 to the floor. 5 to the cosmos.

    PLUSH
    MPHDJ.

    Cutting Ants, Pecking Birds, dog claw’s digging, Walrus tusk’s stabbing, beavers teeth knawing all within the detectable human sensory ranges.

  • C is for CHU: Painted Plane

    Sea’in and not-seen,
    from the nozzel to object
    & knu end language of gas ungrasspalpabble.
    GAS bag of AEROSOUL beyond…Chuscape’t.

    Wind and stars. Fillamint-buster and the firm-cement. Spewing gas but some froth and cake’t up swirl of pigment. Congress. Vortexture of cream.

    Yes. Cherry Peppermint swirl, Jungle Lozenge mumint, See weed green with blush.As seen from a Nozzle head of the game at hand.

    Objects hunted down AND NEUTRALIZED. CornersRemoved, adjusted, arranged according to the

    CHUSCAPE 360 exit’Planet Graffiti Mustards. Skeye Socket, pivot, ball and fully flexi jointed. Perceptual waltz into and out of that word..Corpse-
    manure on the lips of the Literati. What IS and ISN’T? Litres of spit-atoms brew nothing NEW on TV? swatches? The Great Lie, Con,

    Insider trade and perceptual coersionYes. The great spirit of Illusion.

    Cracked open and caked to our faces. Deception turned into ART Mask and Anti ART Mask Painted Plane, painted banking towers.

    Painted cardboard people.Nozzle-view sees through that, and through timespice pace pace. Masking, anti-masking the delightful environmint,

    YOUCAN – You are the Nozzle of perception. Just spew it.

    Paint seas of snot green. Papermunt Origreeny Hulk.
    Cream cake of Nozzle clog residua – spurts rusty cherry bombsLike a Jam donut explosion, cap switch switch.

    And the picture has not yet even fully taken shape, even, as, i write this.Chuscaprism from Alphabeta v 1.0

    I painted, from one viewpoint, a CHUSCAPE vision of an aeroplane engine falling
    through the roof of the bar. –CHU

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    http://www.flickr.com/photos/14660896@N05/
    http://djflyagaric23.blogspot.com/

    Steven James Pratt

  • R is for RETAIL ACTIVITY (alphabeta transliteration v1.0)

    RETAIL ACTIVITY, a aerosol painting on canvas by CHU.
    Fly Agaric Xpandjin’ the context, into alphabeta. Feedback loops.
    2009/6002 upsidedown…

    Some changed (REMI’T) terms: FREE MARKET – FREEDOM TO MARK IT’ WITH GRAFFITI – CAPITALISM – AEROSOL CAP’ USED TO DIFFUSE COLOUR – CONSPIRACY – COMING TOGETHER OF ONE OR MORE FORCES – ART – INSIDER TRADE.
    Americana paint PAWD over Disneylyed
    A new window into the reality of NOW. Fake simulations.
    Your culture today? Virtual Cultural Jocking by the major crim’ syndacate
    ARTIST buying time for the audience to buy themselves out. Degrading the consumer
    By degrading the product.

    “Will art have the right to a second, interminable existence, like the
    secret services that, as we know, haven’t had any secrets to steal or exchange
    for some time but who still continue to flourish in utter superstition of their
    usefulness, perpetuating their own myth. — Baudrillard, The Conspiracy of Art.
    1996.

    Turning the shopper into shop. Nouns into stone. Grey wall. Yes. No. Mighta’…
    Retail Activity Infinite stupidity of consumer.
    Insider grey shady trade wall.
    Supermarket sweep-up.
    CCTV, Banking, shopping, to infinity.

    “The “stereo” effect of verse is not merely one of simultaneous stimulation of
    two different brain areas, but also the result of a necessary integrative
    collaboration and feedback between them. – Frederick Turner. Space and Time in
    Chinese Verse.

    Admidst all this con.crete money and fuzzy sign and
    symbol maze making, words of support are few and far between.
    Artists illegalized, jailed, punished, fined, criminalized.
    Meanwhile the .GOV hand and purse is busy snatching everything – the artists
    and creatives have made, slithering off…
    and retailing them…exchange for cultural credibility.
    Grafitti remains ILLEGAL in most countries. 2009!
    Remixing environmental scene into new semantic maps.
    Accents and interpretations, reflections. Yes. Fresh and improvisational as jazz
    Already spanning over 300 languages worldwide and growing.
    Aerosol Graffiti ART: giant monster gas everywhere & nowhere. Like TAO.
    The last child sitting at his art desk is still smiling.

    “Greenburg had always argued that the Old Masters, the classic 3-D realists, had
    created “an illusion of space into which one could imagine oneself walking. –Tom
    Wolfe, The Painted Word.

    1975. Black Swan. pg. 78.
    “RETAIL ACTIVITY” ripples off the tongue, out through the corridoors
    The passageways RETAIL ACTIVITY! Like a track title to a musical masterpiece, yes.
    The words given to a painting deserve close study.
    Fossilized poems and the doors to epiphany.
    RETAIL ACTIVITY. The recycling of the market economy?
    The impossible reality. Retail ART market.
    The labrynth ambiguity that haunts every shop.
    The virus of language munching down the gates of market.
    Retail intersection point. Mauled perception.
    More image and more simulation, the more illusion power. yes.
    Whose Buying all the images. THINGNESS virus on the loose. “Isness is an Illness.”
    New retail activity in new ways of seeing
    New ways of percieving, tools and windows and glosses
    To reflect, amplify, redirect energy. Yes.
    And provide – transparancy – the great gift of reflection.
    RETAIL ACTIVITY MAXIMUS.

    “Art has become involved (not only from the financial point of view of the art
    market, but in the very management of aesthetic values) in the general process
    of insider trading. Art is not alone: Politics, economics, the news all benefit
    from the same complicity and ironic resignation from their consumers. –Jean
    Baudrillard, The Conspiracy of Art. 1996.”

    “Retail Activity” Punning heavily on RELATIVITY.
    Chu = mc esher squared.
    Capturing (SNAP) the NULL state of the art.
    Mediocrity squared.
    RECYCLING of the empty promise – Clang
    The Global market retail activity bubble, doors shut! sale’s over.
    PO PART! without warning of the imminent BURST/BUST recurse of language.
    ART, what, art. What deception game
    ART MACHINE industry kickin’ over. Non-Riemann turnover.
    Into a happy new gear.
    Painter and the media journalist wrestle. word/image. TV/Internet.
    The marketear from the EYE corp., plays ref.
    Godel and Escher and Bach screw into retail activity. Restoration of culture.

    “It’s a facet of my mathematical ways, it’s all based on your point-of-view. By
    continuing a line up a wall onto the ceiling you can delete corners and make the
    ceiling disappear, depending on where you’re standing.” -chu

    WITHIN THE KERNAL OF THE OLD SOCIETY.
    Building upon scaffolding of new perception.
    Our surrounding archetecture is a partial reflection
    of the economic infrastructure.
    Boom and Bust. Insider trade in word and image.
    As Joyce’s Wake and Escher’s hand in it.
    Bloom and burst! Times of rapid growth and expansion for some,
    Spaces of contraction and dismemberment for many
    The Market Economy.
    ARTISTS chose a different way. Every time. Gurrantea’d.
    But not turning the cheek but returning the cheek. Balancing the equation.

    ”and then, having succeeded admirably, you ask with a sense of
    see-what-i-mean? outrage: look, they don’t even buy our products! (Usually
    referred to as “quality art.”) The art world had been successfully restricted to
    about 10′000 souls worldwide, the beaux monded of a few metropolises. Of these,
    perhaps no more than 300 – worldwide – bought current work (this year’s, last
    year’s, the year-before’s) with any regularity; of these, perhaps 90 lived in
    the United States. — Tom Wolfe, The Painted Word. 1975. Black Swan. pg.
    67-68.

    Retail Activity, the painting by CHU sums up & balances down equations vs. Shopping.
    Aerosol Graffiti Art becomes indistinguishable from Magic.
    Wimbledonization of our culture, art and music
    Outernational finance strategy, made up by some dotty umpire.
    Wimbledonization: (hosting the fattest, richest,
    foreign – Casinocrats – at the expense of our own talent. )
    British Art and Culture, how is it moderated? World Art?
    Who and how? manipulated to suit whom? Retale’s wagging.
    The world wall – itself – in the ACTIVITY of retail.
    The myriad of reflection spaces of RETAIL of word and image to infinity.

    Dudley M. Burroughs – (Chief Commissioner of Sewers)

    M. C. Escher tribute (2 of 3)

    | posted on Jan 30 2009
    , , , , ,
    Originals, Shows, Video

    After producing ‘Writing Hands’ I ventured deeper into the world of distorting the viewpoints, a thought process in two dimensional works that Escher is possibly most famous for. His lithograph entitled ‘Relativity’ was the next piece that I chose to remix.

    In these days of economic crisis I also updated the piece to depict a modern market area, a supermarket or shopping mall, filled with glass panels (shamelessly achieved by the use of a paper edge). Instead of the three views culminating in exit points to organic backgrounds or nature, I chose to make the whole space an interior, with backgrounds of a shop, car park and a public sliding-door entrance.

    The figures are also modernised; cash machine, struggling pensioners, drunks, maintenance orderly and shoppers. The perspectives got a little more funked-up, and the piece also has 15% value added (the original lithograph is square) accommodating the landscape proportion of the canvas.

    The construction is visible in a short stop-frame video i produced to animate the process.

    Steven James Pratt

  • John Sinclair! @ Cafe OTO. January 20th’ 2009.

    http://www.cafeoto.co.uk/programme/JOHNSINCLAIR.shtm

    TUESDAY 20th January 2009.

    Times : 8pm
    Tickets : £7 Tickets on the door only

    AN EVENING WITH JOHN SINCLAIR : Including special musical guests:
    http://johnsinclair.us/10for2/
    http://www.radiofreeamsterdam.com/
    http://www.myspace.com/cafeoto

    Steven James Pratt

  • PIM is for Pharmacratic Inquisition on Marijuana.

    ROBERT ANTON WILSON: What I’m really afraid of is when they decide to legalize it and they come up with a pill, some squib, probably Eli Lilly – as the Bush family own a lot of Eli Lilly – they come up with a pill that contains the derivative of cannabis that kills pain, but it doesn’t get you high and then they’ll charge about 50 dollars a pill, so for real relief from pain it’ll be out of reach for most of the population and they will still go on suffering or buying from black market dealers, meanwhile they’ll have a better excuse to close down the medical marijuana cooperatives – “Hey we got a legal form here and it doesn’t produce that terrible euphoria that’s bad for you” [laughs, smiles] They all complain about euphoria as one of the bad side effects of cannabis, apparently you’re not in your right mind in this country unless you feel vaguely miserable, apprehensive and depressed. If you start feeling euphoric there must be something wrong with you, what the hell! I think euphoria is part of the treatment! There’s a hell of a lot of evidence and a hell of a lot of books starting with Wilhelm Reich on, Prescott, DeMeo, oh there’s ton’s of evidence that feeling good is good for your health. So their attempt to take the joy out of marijuana just means they want you to take longer to heal whatever you use it for if your using it for medical purposes. — RAW.

    FROM WIKIPEDIA…2009

    “Synthetic THC is known as dronabinol. It is available as a prescription drug (under the trade name Marinol[46]) in several countries including the United States and Germany. Watson Pharmaceuticals, Inc. announced on June 29, 2008, the U.S. launch of the authorized generic version of dronabinol in the 2.5, 5 and 10 mg once daily dosage strengths. Dronabinol is the generic version of Marinol(R)(dronabinol) CIII Capsules. In the United States, Marinol is a Schedule III drug, available by prescription, considered to be non-narcotic and to have a low risk of physical or mental dependence. Efforts to get cannabis rescheduled as analogous to Marinol have not succeeded thus far, though a 2002 petition has been accepted by the DEA. As a result of the rescheduling of Marinol from Schedule II to Schedule III, refills are now permitted for this substance. Marinol has been approved by the FDA in the treatment of anorexia in AIDS patients, as well as for refractory nausea and vomiting of patients undergoing chemotherapy, which has raised much controversy as to why natural THC is still a schedule I drug.[47]
    An analog of dronabinol, nabilone, is available commercially in Canada under the trade name Cesamet, manufactured by Valeant. Cesamet has also received FDA approval and has began marketing in the U.S. as of 2006; it is a Schedule II drug.
    In April 2005, Canadian authorities approved the marketing of Sativex, a mouth spray for multiple sclerosis patients, who can use it to alleviate neuropathic pain and spasticity. Sativex contains tetrahydrocannabinol together with cannabidiol. It is marketed in Canada by GW Pharmaceuticals, being the first cannabis-based prescription drug in the world. — http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetrahydrocannabinol

     

    Steven James Pratt

  • Freestyle pt. 2

    Newtown?
    McLear Dream Solliquoy (Final sequence)
    The night of the 1st of August 1936, Mclear’s dream.

    Mclear’s father drinks some tea from a chalice, and then climbs a ladder set against a house to fetch down the toad that is stuck up high, the pet toad of his cousin, and, while on his way down he slips, on a snake mimicking the wrong of a ladder, falls and crushes his head, and the toad in the process. Brains, Toad slime, jewels and flies merge together.

    Mclear’s cousin turns into Alice through the looking glass, in wonderland, and shrinks down to the size of a small rodent, she begins munching on Lotus petals that have suddenly sprung up around his father/mothers corpse, where a fly swoons and across the body that is now wearing a white gown and has breasts

    A bomb comes whistling out of the sky, changing into a figure resembling Cuchulain, a giant with twelve arms, and each hand holding an object: A boomerang, a Robert Johnson 78’ disk, a golden jewel encrusted chalice, a smoking pipe styled into the shape of a toad, a totem pole, A telephone receiver/speaker, a printing stamp-press, a calendar, an Umbrella, A TV set, a Video-Camera. The smoking pipe was now in the giants mouth and the clouds of smoke drifted up and up to become huge clouds, nebulous, ten miles high or more.

    One cloud takes the form of a giant mushroom and descends back to the scene of the accident, pitching itself next to the androgenous corpse. The mushroom then morphs again into a small Santa Claus doll, and proceeds to administer coca-cola to the body, pouring it up the nostrils and letting it fizz all over the face, the body begins to shake.

    [due to a disturbance in the dream sequence, ultimately down to an early lecture with G.K Chesterton, but setting his alarm clock one full hour earlier than he needed]
    Mclear’s father/mother, his cousin and himself were now up and running from the house, jumping away from the garden on pogo sticks, away from where the toad-corpse ooze had now released a green fog into the air, that set everybody laughing uncontrollably.
    Arriving in a wooded area they eventually stop and slump down onto the ground leaning against a birch tree. Suddenly a wheel rolls into the clearing in front of them with a golden apple lodged inside the axis. Then, as Mclear recalls his dream, ‘we all eat a small piece of the apple and go sit down back under the tree again’

    In a flash the dreaer has morphed into a Mushroom stood right there in the spot where he once sat. His Father/mother had transformed into a fly, and his cousin Mary changed quickly from his grandmother, then to a toad who also sits where she once sat in the wooded clearing.

    At this point Mclear describes the sense of eternity passing, then a jumping of perceptions between the three shapeshifters, triangulated in their positions. The mushroom had only single sight, a tiny periscope inside a wart, but it released a constant humming sound that Mclear heard as the sound of a tribal drum in his head when he looked at the fly and the toad looking at him.

    Suddenly Mclear experienced total ESP with the others, plus he heard voices from the tress and the foliage and the leaves; a low chatter beneath the canopy, they sat motionless, in awe of the infinite stars above them.

    In a flash, the fly lands on the mushroom, licks it, flies off towards the toad, who swiftly, and Ninja like, snatches the drunken fly out of the air, and swallows it in one gulp.
    Cuchulain returns and lands in front of the Toad with a drawn sword and slices it in two. Gold and jewels fall-out from the toads head while the fly shakes, buzzes, flinches a little, staggers up to gather itself and flies off, only a few feet to then land on a floating lotus flower upon the pond, and is swallowed by a huge salmon, which then in turn is fished out by Cuchulain and set free, plus Cuchulain discovers a golden ring inside the salmon that fits perfectly with his elaborate zoological breastplate.
    Ants came marching into the clearing and gathered up the toads parts, and some Lapis Lazuli jewels and carried them back to their nest, where together with a beetle, a snake and a unknown miniature jellyfish-scorpion creature, they remade the toad with spittle, venom and special green fungus.
    The toad jumps out of the nest and leaps back to the clearing, where he spits on the mushroom’s periscope, which then transforms the whole mushroom into a geodesic object, but still bejewelled crystallized and sparkling.
    Cuchulain returned from a gap in a nearby tree trunk, plucked the mushroom, put it in his red sack, and sprang off into the air again back to the town, where he fairly divided the crystalized mushroom up between all the towns people, everyone got a piece and said a prayer:

    Steven James Pratt

  • 2009. Freestyle.

    NumGoodber Nine. Ennead. Nine minutes to Midknight
    Blackness and Green – now what do they seem the gleam to mean?
    Calendar reform.
    Calendar reformations. Formations from individual calendar makers.
    Candle stick sealed. Signed delivered. NINE calendoors. The Hidden door.
    No.9

    What’s behind a name, a number? 9/9/99 6/6/66
    Inverted symbols, solar and lunar squabbles for the more PRECISE.
    384

    384

    383.89

    384 Pages to Stephen Hero, retrieved from the FIRE by James Joyce’s sister.
    383 Pages, like I-Ching pages, or better BONES
    Rescued from the fire.

    384

    2009?

    Steven James Pratt

  • Time Munching And The Ear Doctor Sessions.

    TIMUCIN SAHIN: Fretloze Gitaren, Compositions. http://www.timucinsahin.com/home.html
    TYSHAWN SOREY: Drums, water, brushes.
    JOHN O’GALLAGHER: Alto Sax.
    THOMAS MORGAN: Bas
    BIMHUIS. PIET HEINKADE 3. AMSTERDAM. http://www.bimhuis.com/
    Timucin Sahin, Kai Eckhardt, AND Owen Hart JR. Grew me a nice new set of ears at the Badcuyp, Amsterdam in 2007. So i returned to witness the spacetime technician’s once more, this time at the Bimhuis with his new line up. Out the gate, out the traps, launch, go, straight off i felt i was in the right place for the evening, Timucin weaving his subtle cosmic tones and background radiation with a truly awesome flurry of fingered equations, while Tyshawn instantly abducted my ears to at least 9 simultaneous rhythm patterns, fluxt timespace signatures and all the accent and groove-feel to pull out the lilt and swing of the different junctions, at the phalanx of – intersection points – in the Plutonium jazzy-gass, splitting ears and brain-body barriers with the aroma of no-time, new time. All punching time on the chin. In a nutshell, i felt abducted by the soundscape, and the grooves satisfied by own personal glittered-jazz, drum and bass/jungle tinged taste buds like a well aged Sativa. Mwah! The show in 07 was a trio of sonic magicians, and so Timucin had all the upper register and midrange amidst Owen’s intelligent drum orbits, last night however John O’Gallagher was very much with Timucin – up there – and for me pulled out, and defined like a sharp pencil line; the intricate and beatiful pan-modal Astro-neuro attainments being shared, freely with the Audience. Thomas Morgan moved with the flow and ebb of the swirling vortex, his bass talking the talk and walking up the stairs to Jupiter, Saturn and other planets that seem under investigation by the tribe of timespice engineers and sonic-fiction poets. The undertones and light whispering voices emanating from Time-munchin’s calculations continue to crop up in all the right places for me, the quantum jumping compositions unveiling layer after layer of timespace, like an audio fabrige egg, with each new layer and complete new groove, feel and seemingly mode, to my ears. Now on fire, little flames symboling the tiny hairs in my ears, travelling and movement, verbs and echoes of just past places, remixed live, and brought back again, back to front, in the flickr of an eye or two. And when you think your used to the jumping around and technicolor sheets of sound, Tyshawn introduces another hot pepper, BANG BOOM,


    Slamming, out of nowhere, then caress, then hyperbolic jungle-jazz-swing, then a stunning trip hop flex, all comfortable and innovative at each turn, playing snare with a bottle of water, rolling it across the snare getting the plastic crackle and fizz, then twizzling the bottled water through the space just above his set, between the two overhead mics, creating further mysterious sounding artcore entertainment, symbolic gesture, in short, Tyshawn owned everything he touched, my ears and everyone else’s. Abducted by 10’000 variations on the 8 or 9 breakbeats i danced and lost my mind to in the dancehalls of Britain many years ago, which left a trace, picked up again tonight in the hardcore Drum and Bass and Sax and Guitar wisdom language. Like some of the writing of James Joyce, or Finnegans Wake, by the end of the show the 4 had put the Universe back together again, but in a whole different way using music and human ears and brains to their maximal potential, follow this! You dig! Now the street traffic sounds different to me after the show, percussive shards and trace fragments follow me out the Bimhius and down the Damrak, and the clatter of the trams is building something, i am waiting for the next launch date of Timucin (time-munching) to help me put the Universe together again and witness the tearing down, reconstructing and rebuilding of the life of the mind, or the life of the mind as i see it in 2008, fragmented times, bits and pieces and all culture and languages sirred up, whisked and baked into things, soundbites of the 21st century and all those bits and Bobs that have come before, and, i might add, the sense of the things of the future, included. In the sense of spaceways to other worlds, in the sense that vibration and Astro-Neuro attenuation through cosmic tones for cosmic culture, is out there for your to be a part of, if you can listen and trane your earwiggs. The snowballing angular turns and switching sequence puzzles ride. Together on the crest of the wave of expanding Universes, musical red shifting, and counterpointing, intersecting and jump-back assaulting of the equation. The collective whirring and mixing of pattern, rhythm, and polytonal, multiphonics flashes through the sounds spectrum in dashes and stoccato flashes, bewildering pace, slow and fast and everytime inbetween, always inbetween. Through and beyond my own comprehension, and then once more, your abducted again, sucked through a Noh-Wave Wormhole and brought home to your seat, at the show, clapping but keeping very still, but inside your wanting to dive off the roof into the cold Dutch waters below, something, to exstinguish the fires and flares started in my ears by these cats.
    I hope you get to hear this group soon, too. Get some new ears for the holiday season. New music and new ways of hearing it, Timucin and his band of spacetime explorers, gathering the limbs and languages of outer-planetary entities, i like to think. How else can i put it, i was moved in new ways.

    –Fly Agaric 23.

    Steven James Pratt

  • D is for DAMNBIGUATION.

    Please do not mistake me for Steven Pratt – the Australian M.P. he seems an OUTSPOKEN anti Grafitti tool. Do not confuse us.

    “But is it art?
    Saturday, April 21, 2007, 05:18 PM GMT [General]
    After dealing with bad news in my last blog I thought I’d dedicate this one, to a certain extent, to a news story that made me smile.
    Where art and vandalism meet: one of Banksy’s images.

    Australian MP Steve Pratt (no, I’m not making this up) has gotten himself into a spot of bother after he destroyed a commissioned public artwork as a part of his campaign against graffiti. Mr Pratt (it doesn’t stop being funny, does it?) had assumed the mural, on a concrete bridge in Canberra, was an “obnoxious piece of vivid graffiti vandalism”. It was, in fact, a fully paid for art work commissioned by a nearby sports club.
    The subject of graffiti seems to have made the headlines several times in recent months. Britain’s very own Banksy is now thought of not as a vandal but as one of the country’s leading artists, despite the fact that nobody is really sure what his real name is (it might be Robert Banks). A couple in Bristol (Banksy’s home town) recently sold the graffiti on the side of their house for £102,000; the house came free with the purchase.
    Only yesterday he was in the news once more after London Transport staff painted over a Banksy painting estimated to be worth around £300,000. I find it curious that there are no other graffiti artists currently attracting this much publicity. There’s no denying that Banksy is incredibly talented, but is talent alone the reason his vandalism (because, let’s face it, it is) is now worth hundreds of thousands of pounds while other artists work is simply deemed a pain in the neck for your local council.
    There is a lane near where I live, in Cardiff’s Llandaff North, which is covered in graffiti on both sides, from one end to the other. Some of it is crude, I’ll grant you, but some of it is very good indeed. It reminded me, in its own humble way, of Berlin’s West Side Gallery; the stretch of Berlin Wall preserved for the quality of graffiti left on it.
    Personally, I don’t have much of a problem with graffiti, providing its in all the right places. A giant, airbrushed ‘tag’ across the dome of St Pauls would, for example, be wrong, as would images of cannabis smoking aliens on Hampton Court, or Manga style women in nurse’s uniforms on Stone Henge. But many of the places where we see graffiti are ugly and soulless. The Bauhaus-inspired council estates that we somehow thought would engender utopian communities but instead became dour, grey and hostile have, in many places, been enlivened by the addition of a little unplanned art.
    The concrete gullies of the District line wouldn’t quite be the same without the occasional daub of colour to wake you up on your morning commute. And what journey across London would be complete without the spotting of Tox’s latest handiwork?
    Graffiti isn’t always “obnoxious”, to borrow a word from Mr Pratt. Sometimes it makes more colourful those places we’ve made ugly. Can there really be a sound argument for preserving just how grim and foreboding the underside of so many bridges are by removing what little colour has been put there?
    Granted, there is no place for graffiti in the likes of Saffron Walden or Tunbridge Wells because graffiti is an inherently urban art form. Its home is the big city. But surely in those places it has made beautiful (and I do actually mean beautiful) we should be preserving it, and not just if it comes with a £300,000 price tag.”

    Steven James Pratt

  • July 28th 2004 i performed my first recorded “poem in public”, whilst spinning rekkids with Garaj Mahal off the back of a boat, sailing around the Statue of Liberty NYC. The poem is inspired by some Garaj Mahal track title’s.

    Which side of the boat are you onwitch side-“witch side”my side -“your side” witch side of the boat are you onwitch side-wot sidethis side-that sideThis tide is turnin as “liquid Hindi” Vision’s of LSD Are dripping onto the tongue of liberty, Like a psychotropic meatless patty. Breathe, Never give up duck, Cuz tomorrow never knows her mondo shadow, Like thursday: “a d-tuned Eagle”, I break out the cosmic elevator kisses. From madagascar to Bajo A happy hippi poodle drives a very strange truck Wild Samauri duck blues inside a Milk carton, Chime like silver bells.Line games fall from the Ivory tower like aTen ton chicken. The big smack down. Stoked on Rasaki, i receive furthur gumbo vision’s: “Be dope on Thursday “Because, “it’s wednesday” and, Tomorrow never knows. I break out pen’s of mass construction And fly like a poodle, soaring over the ivory tower singingBlueberry funk. Poodle poodle palladin Poodle poodle palladin Poodle palladin Poodle palladin, Poodle paladinPoodle palladinPoodle poodle palladinPoodle poodle palladin.Dog’s barkin while im parkin human dignity In the garaj, They call me flydermanCuz i live in a blueberry mirage. A massive rubber slut has no spectFor my poodle, Have mercy, mercy, mercy. Sing a song, Don’t doodle.
    AUDIO RECORDING OF POEM AND MUSICAL OFFERINGS.
    Steven James Pratt