Category: 2009

  • Cosmic Trigger, steve fly agaric 23 and acrillic figa

    Hi,
    In 2009 Eric Wagner crafted an stimulating on-line class, hosted by the Maybe Logic Academy and titled ‘Chapel Perilous’ The class was based around the book ‘Cosmic Trigger’ by Robert Anton Wilson, and during the class i contributed a number of posts and items. One of which i will reproduce here for the purpose of describing my own cosmic coincidences when encountering this text. Enjoy.

    Steve Fly
    Cosmic Trigger Play: Musical Director

     

    Cosmic Trigger, fly agaric 23 and acrillic figa. (01/01/10)
    The DJ fly agaric 23 thinks a new extended introduction, describing just a small fraction, a tiny part  concerning the incalculable influence that the 1977 book – Cosmic Trigger by Robert Anton Wilson – has been on him, and, the writer thinks it would be a great chance to share some of his experiences since reading Cosmic Trigger and journeying into Chapel Perilous (USA), to discover the Author of the book – such was the impact the DJ felt that the work was having on his life and those around him – what the researcher discovered there, in the new world led him here today! Trying to figure out why page 109 of the book Email to the Universe requires two entire years of study….
    In retrospect the sceptic seems humble and reserved, the Pratt feel slightly naive and somewhat foolish re-telling the tales as they happened, due to them happening, in some sense to DJ Fly agaric 23 – an avatar and aka the DJ manifested, with some help from a drunk or two, in his local community when he first created an avatar for the new internet email explosion – F.A 23 was the perfect being to work with. DJ fly wanted to spread some of the ideas he discovered in Cosmic Trigger to his friends and his family, as he felt the wisdom to be so profound, “right-on dude” and optimistic for a blossoming post-millennium future for humanity. How can thw world awake to language and reality without Dr. Wilson’s great wisdom and healing knowledge perpetuated throughout the worlds culture. Fly made this a part of his brand. The DJ was in his early 20s and as the writer mentioned – very naive – but this foolishness led the DJ to try new things, read more books and journals to find out for himself if this stuff he was spouting as second-hand wisdom snippets and bites of RAW had a relationship to DJ culture, acid jazz, hip hop and graffiti art? The inquisitive DJ wanted to sample soundbites of RAW and perpetuate that wisdom into the dancefloors and raves he was a part of locally (Stourbridge, Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Dudley) around 1996-2000.
    Millennium trip to Mordor.
    Triggered by a house fire four six before new years day, the 23 year old DJ fly agaric 23 felt like a great adventure, and doing something heroic, something nobody he knew had ever done, and something he decided to do all by himself, for once – take a trip to the Prophets Conference Santa Fe to witness the author of Cosmic Trigger give a lecture titled “The Universe contains a maybe” and check to see if he was what he wrote about he was, the event was synchronisticali’ taking place on the DJ’s 24th Birthday (15/04) so fly figured he should go to see Dr. Wilson on the last day of his twenty third year as the Prattfool. The DJ’s turntables were sold, the tickets were booked, Terence Mckenna passed on (4th Aprill 6000 AL,) and the intrepid dj fly agaric flew to NYC, greyhounded to Santa Fe, smoked a bowl, met two RAW heads from New Orleans who weirdly also shared the 15th of April with the fly agaric as the day they were born out from the mothers womb, wow, the student of RAW synchronicity said to himself, the two brothers of mine were also smokers and had books by Dr. John Lilly that they were speaking highly of to the intrepid tripper.
    Reasonably stoned, and tucked away at the back right had side of the James L. Little Theatre – Santa Fe – the fly agaric 23 sat awaiting the Dr…. suddenly bamboozulu’d by news that Dr. Wilson will NOT be appearing at the conference due to illness! But before he could lift a hand to his mouth in astonishment – everyone – in the theatre, comprising over 500 or so unknown American souls, looked at fly agaric 23 and applauded due to an announcement made to them highlighting my long distance travel from Birmingham; England. 
    The Pratt felt a fool, but humanity and strange forces reached out and influenced the 24 year old young man to continue up the west coast of America – on an adventure into the unknown territory of the DJ’s rave-trip-paradise – the bay area, San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley, and the journeyman spent the next two months in the Bay Area, California – wondering through an utterly unbelievable universe inhabited by critters from out of Cosmic Trigger, no, i mean some of the real human beings RAW was writing with and about roughly 25 years ago and more in Cosmic Trigger! 
    The most relative part of my first 2 months living in the Bay Area, Berkeley in fact, just off of Telegraph Avenue (a location mentioned in the Sufi-clown tale from Cosmic Trigger), seems to the researcher looking into Chapel Perilous to be – the interview with physicist Saul Paul Sirag, which took place in the kitchen of Dr. Jack Sarfatti, 27th MAY 2000 E.V – Nine years ago (2009). The interview was captured onto a mini-disc, and lay unheard of, or translated for seven years until the DJ  managed to find and translate the wonderfully erudite wisdom of Saul Paul Sirag. Here is part of that days recording, and a little insight into what the Pratt was also thinking of, with the questions concerning superstring theory, cabbala and Dr. Wilson.
    Guilding the Lilly
    The volunteer was invited to a week long symposium honouring the life and work of Dr. John Lilly, where he met and exchanged some very brief ideas with Saul Paul, Brian Wallace, Jack Sarfatti, Kurt Von Meir, Jean Millay, Captain Clearlight, Faustin Brey, Creon Levitt, Amanita Von Meir, and Dr. John Lilly himself – but not more than five words of thanks and greetings, and a signed book – the Dyadic Cyclone. The stunned DJ fly agaric 23 floated for the first time in a Samahadi tank only 20 ft. From the inventor himself. The DJ met other DJ’s, volunteers, beautiful minds, techies’, sound editors and engineers. The editor would like to add that he was a part of a mediation, visualization experiment conducted by Jean Millay, including Saul Paul Sirag, John Lilly and others at the symposium, and the impressions the DJ received were unmistakable and were reported back to Jean “ I saw a group of lizards wearing what appeared to be yellow swimming hats” 
    The DJ found a little more volunteer work at another conference, this time in the Presidio – Planetworkers 2000 A.D – featuring a transcending disembodied Terence Mckenna, Bruce Sterling, Mark Pesce, Peter Russel… and hundreds of information technology meets global ecology masterminds and think tanks meeting to headline the new GREEN revolution in sustainable and alternative, and energy and ideas – the best most mind blowing ideas the DJ had ever heard of, mixed up with DJ Vaja, David Rothenberg and Kai Eckhardt and others contributing music to the conference, encouraging dancing and inter-comingling, yeah the DJ thought, breakbeats and green-beats, global ecology and information technology, the Pratt thought… an intelligent businessman might put some investment into some of these ideas back in Dudley, maybe that would help the poor fuckers back home who have no idea of the possibilities and wonderful new technologies that await us all, all humanity, now, and the skeptic added – NOW – we need to invest now. The writer looks back in astonishment at the amount of criss-crossed material oozing out of Cosmic Trigger into the conferences as seen through the eye of the man with the movie camera working – as a volunteer for Soundphotosynthchess. The metaprogrammer was beginning to wonder what he had invoked over the last three years before coming to America.
    The DJ attended the Howeird 420 street fair, the Terence Mckenna Wake at 1015 Folsom st. And met Dennis Mckenna, and rubbed dance shoes with Erik Davis, Dusty, Mark Pesce, hippies, freaks, scientists, and crystal shrines in memory of the great Terence – whom the DJ dedicated a DJ-mix to 6 days before he left England called “RA HOTEP RECONFRENCE” audio-parts of which are available – with another brief telling of this tale –  at the maybelogic quarterly network. The Fly was smoking bowls, talking about RAW material, entertaining wonderful beautiful people, and couch-surfing upon the crest of good heartedness of Bay Area folk, the half-irish blooded Englishman often felt like a very special human being, treated kindly and with an instant loving warmth and friendship than he was used to from strangers, especially strangers in another strange country so far away from home. 
    The 4 and 20 year old cosmic kid went flying back to lime land with a hell of a story, and also news about internet and stuff and things, hard to put into words, – remember the internet? – well the skeptic heard conversations about wireless-power, dude, and the weed will bake your ideas perfect, thought the dealer. Some of his friends listened for a few hours, but then, the DJ thinks – not having read Cosmic Trigger – how could these tales bear much significance to them? after a while the tourist realized he had better learn to write again, at least if he was to present his travel tales and experiences to the people he most loved and cared for, humanity as a whole, his family and his friends, in a way which they might take seriously, or at least my effort to communicate in a neutral way –  seriously.  
    RAW Springs 2000 A.D.
    Although the dedicated illuminati journalist had failed to see Dr. Wilson in the flesh, the journey had inspired many remarkable meetings with remarkable men and women, an interview, some gigs – as DJ Fly agaric 23, and some links with like minded people on the other side of the Atlantic ocean to which the Pratt was born. Even in 2000 A.D the fool had not yet read the entire Illuminatus Trilogy only part I in awkward situations. The independent researcher felt mostly ignored, which he has come to expect now – by most of those people in his community and the greater external government  who happen to be ignoring what RAW has written, and going so far as to act upon it, as fly agaric 23 has done. Here the tale turns really wild and fanciful beyond the DJ’s headonistic dreams.
    Having helped a painter – a little bit – by setting up his second Graffiti art exhibition in Birmingham, recording new material with his classically trained – Saurang player – Surrinder, and pressing up 200 limited edition 10” vinyl records, using a Princes Trust business grant of 200 Pounds, that was intended to show, after time, the good sense and predictive ability of the business idea and then maybe land some doe to maybe buy some real equipment and make better recordings and manufacture more records, start a record label? This was the lifelong goal of the DJ, the writer thinks. And reading more and more literature on Lilly, Post Quantum Physics, Alan Watts, Saul Paul Sirag, Erik Davis, Hakim Bey and more he still has visions of the DJ vinyl tool he dreamed of…
    One day around October 2000 E.V – the DJ guesstimates – he received an email from the Prophets Conference that said words to the effect of: Get yourself to the Prophets Conference Palm Springs, and get your own lodging and you can be the volunteer P.C helper who assists Dr. Robert Anton Wilson about the conference in his wheel-chair.
    The magician left the library – where he checked his email – and his only steady link with the Cosmic Trigger worlds out there, since getting back from the dreamspace – in a state of high high beyond description. The DJ’s ego had been inflated to the size of a planet – it was true – the magic works, the journey has just begun, the proto-novelist thought – and on the 15th December the independent journalist flew to Chicago, heard John Coltrane in the airport, and connected to Palm Springs airport and literally walked out the airport door with a bag of vinyl records, some cloths and a small box of magic mushrooms hand picked that year from Wychbury Hill, near Stourbridge where the Pratt grew up (Dr. Wilson very politely refused the mushrooms when the Pratt offered them to him in his room two days later) The DJ found a cheap room at 35 Dollars a night, but with only 150 on me person, times were already tight, which leads me to a dinner tale spent with uncle Bob the Pratt shall never forget.
    On the night before RAW’s lecture cunningly titled “The Universe contains a maybe” me and BOB had dinner together at the hotel restaurant – the helper recalls that Bob had crab cakes for starters and a dish called “Snakes in the grass” for his main course. The mood was fine and respectful until the Pratt decided to throw a question concerning some neurotic detail about pancakes or my musical ideas – oh lord. The kicker came when it emerged, after i had left after desert to go to my dish-washing PAID job at the rather quaint Cheecky Monkey Pub, in Palm Springs – so as to be able to stay another two nights, but due to my ignorance the Pratt had left Dr. Wilson with the Bill (which the DJ assumed was on the house, conference tab) and also, though, the task of getting himself back to his room – he of course did not mention this to me as i was leaving and assured me he would make it back in fine form. The writer and independent journalist regrets leaving Dr. Wilson that evening, and will never forget the feeling of every glass, dish, cup and saucer washed that evening, and the next day…     
    A Manhattan with lunch
     The following day included another early lunch with the genius duo of Paul Krassner and his wife Nancy, together we dined and the researcher mostly listened – to incredible dialogue; perpetual jokes and cutting critique upon new age psychobabble. Nancy snapped the now legendary picture of RAW holding up the Manhatten that he had with his lunch, and also a picture of me and RAW together, one of only a few rare pictures of my times in the USA, not having a Digital or other camera most of the time. RAW even had time for an interview with a TV news crew, in which he spiced up the language with his freshly loosened Tongue Fu, warmed up by lunch with Paul. 
    The stoner often wishes he could remember more of what was said that day, the DJ recoded in Bob’s room with permission, but the reporter does recall that Bob repeated his optimism and interest in getting third-world countries on-line, connected through internet.
    Some other Rascals speaking at the Confernece were Steven Greer, Jean Houston, Greg Braden, Edgar Mitchell, and others i forget… but for me RAW clinched the show when launching into the hilarious KING KONG outburst during a panel Q & A session concerning Annunuki E.T.’s.  The journalist did get his private interview with Robert Anton Wilson, in his room on that same evening, and stoned, the Pratt talked mostly of pancakes which RAW expertly turned into koans before my ears. We were interrupted only by the kindred folks from Disinformation.com – Richard Metzger, Brian Jones and another Brian who’s name i forget – and they pulled out the 2000 A.D Cannabis Cup winning Sativa called Williams Wonder – and we all smoked a pipe and once again, the writer wishes he had a better faculty for remembering times such as these. Maybe in the future it will come, but for now i have the transcript of that short interview between us – at the Prophets Con. 2000 A.D.
    DJ Fly to San Francisco
    The DJ left Palm Springs with friends the reporter met in San Francisco, who, were also at the P. Conference – with a keen interest in Steven Greer and the Disclosure project. I spent New Years eve on the back of the Vallejo houseboat (where Kerouac once lived) while tripping acid with a strangely small crowd – and listening to the track “How to disappear completely” by Radiohead on repeat all of that morning. Entering into 2001 – the DJ felt as if the world was opening beneath his feet, he was on RAW’s email list, living in San Francisco and had a new job at a record label called Cosmic Flux – situated on Haight and Fillmore street S.F. and was in love with a Nepali poet and translator, the writer would like to add. 
    The DJ was also playing live shows with some of the best jazz funk and world music – musicians in the world, Kai Eckhardt (bs) Alan Hertz (drs) Fareed Haque (gtr) Tal Morris (Gtr) Liam Hanrahan (bs) Gregory James (gtr) Eric Levy (kys) Ray White (vcl) and many others over the course of the next 5 years, but the band Garaj Mahal and Kai Eckhardt were the heart of the fantastic opportunity t musically express some of the experiences the DJ was having in America, with other musical artists who had between them played with such greats as Dizzy Gillespie, Frank Zappa, John McLaughlin, Chick Corea, Billy Cobham, Nigel Kennedy.
    DJ fly was invited, and sometimes paid to contribute sounds, soundbites and turntablism to the Garaj  Mahal performances and the first 2 studio albums. (Mondo Garaj 2001 and Blueberry Cave 2005 Harmonized Records). The cosmic theme continues with the tune “Cosmic Elevator” taken from the Blueberry Cave album. The DJ only  wd/ also like to add that he once jammed with Paul Godwin and Kai Eckhardt, only to discover Paul has an electronic project called simply – DOGON! 
    2001 somebody tried to blow up America, who?
    The DJ turned 25 years old in San Francisco  – 2001 – and saw RAW twice more giving lectures at “Pantheon Con 2001” and “The learning Annex, in a class on writing science fiction” which the technician helped video record for Soundphotosynthesis, but alas does not have a copy of… The researcher flew home August 2001, to link with his family and friends and pass on more of the wonderful discoveries the investigative journalist had made and some artefacts the prover’ could manifest as proof. Some audio tapes and video’s, contact cards, flyers and CD’s of musicians, artists, physicists, poets and lovers the swimmer had met on his journey into Chapel Perilous, information technologists and global ecologists, virtuoso musicians, and to top it all an interview with Dr. Wilson himself, the unified field of humanitarian intelligence pulling all the other material together – being the magnet that pulled me into the Chapel, and also the guide by which the writer figured he would have to study so as to report back the information gathered in a humanitarian language, without bias, and rid of unnecessary words devoid of meaning, to condense, simplify and balance. 
    By September 10th 2001 the DJ felt ready to launch a revolution in the minds of the European people, to his tiny mind he imagined a new bridge between artists, writers, poets, painters, designers, philosophers, physicists, anthropologists, neuro-scientists, musicians – all getting together to launch the 21st century based upon the emerging free spirit of communication using internet and growing individual communications devices – how could they stop the millions of people around the world bringing the spirit of new community and a new  electronic world to every-people by sharing information and  investing in art and ecology furnished businesses – generally moving away from the private financial interests driving the emerging electronic culture and economy? What could they do the poet thought, while writing about, among other things – an Israli Suicide bomber, on the evening of September 10th 2001. 
    The cynical DJ watched his dreams and ambitions fall down that day, and for weeks afterwards wondered what the hell he was goning to do now, now the Bush administration had struck off a new war on terrorism surely the revolution i imagined would get disrupted, somewhat pulled into the mayhem and chaos of bodies, wires, and cement that highlighted the descent into Bush 2.0 republicanism and patriotic CIA Nazi US foreign policy at its most virulent, and more worryingly with a total and unwavering support by the British government and culture – rejecting the 10’s of millions of people opposed to the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq as a minority report. 
    The skeptic and conspiricist were both shocked by operation shock and awe – which saw a new global force taking on roughly 2 billion people in the Islamic world with the worst kind of worded religiously motivated military crusade against the sacred centres of the middle East imaginable, Neither side or national leaders looked like they could be trusted to the researcher, Saddam Hussain, George Bush, Osama Bin Laden and Tony Blair seemed all equally stupid, malicious, dangerous and untrustworthy. Voices started to say to the DJ, come on now, you have been in training to make sense of these kinds of disinformation programs, do it, do the work and sideline the music, become the independent journalist once more, pursue the greatest conspiracy of the 21stcentury (The Bush 2.0 administration) and get back into the work, your country and family and community needs you to do this, go, go and find out what the hell is going on. You may never get this chance again.
    Four more years
    Switching gears again the 25 year old investigative DJ flew back to San Francisco, with roughly 50 pounds and another bag of 12” records, and managed to stay in the U.S under the radar, without the proper papers for four long years, way into the  next criminal BUSH era – post November 2004 – another depressing blow to the optimists vision of America, Europe and the rest of the world returning to  the states of relationships in 1999, just before the new wars and the new banking crash and the uprising of surveillance culture en masse crawled out into the world’s streets and neighbourhoods where good people were assaulted and abducted by religious ideology and viral marketing ploys and gimmicks combined to form the war on some terror.
    During the 5 years spent in the United States of America, the – DJ/writer/swimmer – came into orbit with many remarkable people, and the maybelogician has Dr. Robert Anton Wilson and the book Cosmic Trigger to thank/blame for initiating this journey into Chapel Perilous and out again – into Chapel Penniless – and out again, in, out, in, out of various Challenging environments – a labyrinth of experiences – and thousands of synchronicities and seemingly fortunate incidents – the reach of the RAW net…. the non-simultaneously interacting universe of connectivity, communication and hilaritas engine – thought the Pratt.  The egoist wanted to just list some of the people he learned from, and communicated with while in the USA, in no particular order:

    Michael Bowen (painter) Alexander and Sasha Shulgin (pharmacologists), Henry Dakin (philanthropist), Brian Wallace (Musician), George Brooks (musician), Bob Weir (musician), Joe Firmage (scientist, entrapeneur), Buzzy Lindheart (musician), Abigail Lewis (researcher), Tsering Maya (Artist, writer), Carlos Washington (musician), Brian Jordan (musician), Bob Tesch (researcher), Sameer Gupta (Musician), Creon Levitt (scientist), David Ulansey (Philosopher), Jack Sarfatti (physicist), Saul Paul Sirag (physicist), Jack Perla (musician), Fire and Earth Errowid (pharmacologists), Fareed Haque (musican), Dennis Mckenna (pharmacologist), Kai Eckhardt (musician), Benny Reitveld (musician), Herbie Lewis (Musician), Bernie Worrell (Musician), Nicki Skully (Esotericist), Dava  (musician, Artist) James and Sally Redfield (writers), Jim Wilson (Musician), Paul Krassner (Philosopher, Comedian), Robert Anton Wilson (Scientific Philosopher), Cody and Robin Johnson (Reasearchers), Mark Pesce (Technologist), Erik Davis (Writer, teacher) R.U. Sirius (writer), Kurt Von Meir (scientist), Captain Clearlight (pharmacologist), John Babcock (Toxicologist), One Wolf (Shaman), Mike Crowley (Scientist),  Zakkir Hussain (Musician), Dave Holland (Musician), Jerry Goodman (Musician),  Chet Helms (Concert promoter), John Lilly (Scientist), Ray White (Musician), Mountain Girl (Philanthropist), Bobby Vega (Musician), Tom Waits (Musician), Luke Vibert, DJ Logic, Q-Bert, Kid Koala (DJ’s) Jean Millay (scientist), David Boyce (Musician), Micheal Franti (Musician), Gregory James (Musician), and many more the DJ has forgot… the thousands of freaks who came out to support our shows across the U.S.A and all critters the writer has come to know and collaborate with at the marvellous Maybelogic Academy. Cosmic Trigger seems responsible for initiating this entire journey, and for that spark of inspiration the fool will be forever indebted to said book and author – Dr. Robert Anton Wilson. The fly was hooked, line and sinker and has been digesting – ever since returning from the U.S.A, processing the wonderfully strange meetings he had and re-presenting the out-of-this-world experiences.
    Cosmic Trigger 2009 redux.
    The writer started again in England, back home in Stourbridge, started building a basis for communicating this massive reality labyrinth connected with Dr. Wilson, and soon found the challenges tougher than he first thought, having booked the local town hall for the European premier of Maybelogic: The lives and ideas of Robert Anton Wilson – confident all his friends would come out and support him plus others eager to find out the final secret of the Illuminati! The Pratt’s optimism got the better of him, and the show had to be cancelled and moved to a local pub called “The Birch Tree”, here the DJ felt comfortable and liked the Birch – fly agaric symbolism, and so for 20 Pounds the DJ launched maybelogic – the movie – in great Britain, on the 21stDecember 2005. Unfortunately only 3 people watched the movie, two of them already at the pub who seemed interested in the DJ setting up turntables next to an apple laptop for the – after party – which got cooking after we smoked some joints outside and got a few pints of bitter into the DJ engine room.
    Woodstock Europa
    After the movie launch in the Black Country, the DJ met with Lance in London during the audio recordings of Illuminatus Trilogy, and continued work on his first book – of collected writings from the U.S.A and some new work from England titled World Piss: The spore of the woids. (due for a summer 2009 edit) The drummer had a small collection for Pope Bob and was joined by his friend Emily on bass, in his home town centre of Stourbridge, jamming for money to help Bob pay his medical bills, having raised only about 8 Pounds, the unemployed DJ, who was living at his mum and dad’s house – went down to the local pub and continued the drumming and prayer in hope that somehow, the vibrations wd/ reach Bob and help to heal him. 
    Bob passed on the 11th of January 1/11 and the stoner didn’t get the news until the 12th of January (incidentally the day that Alice Coltrane passed over), and quickly started planning a local event to pay tribute to Dr. Robert Anton Wilson, and once more launch the memes into the environment the best and only way the DJ, drummer knew. The day of the Stourbridge tribute to Bob was a mixed success, once again a low turn out led to a lack of interest in the movie playing, the music and the CD’s i had produced with texts and  images as a homage to Bob. Still, those who were there had a fun time, in the skatepark, and the DJ managed to video record some of the event. This event took place on the same day as the London RAW memorial, keeping the Midlands and the North represented, somewhat. The writer also set up a myspace Rawmemorial website, which links up various raw memorial events and footage
    Coldcut and Alan Moore tribute to RAW   
    The DJ’s ego was inflated to the size of a Zeppelin when he heard Matt Black of Coldcut giving him props for helping to put the Coldcut Raw memorial event together, in the small but important capacity of encouraging Ninjatune and Coldcut to link maybelogic, and through the DVD movie Maybelogic, I managed to make a small part of a dream of mine come true, to be a part of a collaboration between Robert Anton Wilson and Ninjatune (in 1999 both of these were the DJ’s favourite things); the movie was released July 23rd2003 – and the associate producer travelled from New Orleans (11thJuly – 23rd) with his friend Ben all the way to Santa Cruz for the premier, the last time i ever saw Bob, in classic fashion getting into a jaguar and speeding off from the theatre, we were outside smoking and met him briefly upon his leaving… The scene actually reminds the DJ of the short video released of Dr. Wilson leaving in a car – shortly after he passed.
    In March 2007 Coldcut and Mixmaster Morris were to produce a giant, experimental multimedia celebration of Bob, including Bill Drummond, Alan Moore, and once again, the genius of Ken Campbell, in a full blown 2 and a half hour tribute. Many from the MLA and the unemployed DJ were present and were all thrilled by the performance featuring a 20 ft. Talking Bob head, manipulated by VJ DJ manipulations accompanied by a phalanx of ambient sounds-escape, soothing beats and intelligence lounge-core. The DJ was impressed and knocked out, in particular by Alan Moores’ poem for BOB, the ginni was on the loose. The DJ attempted to promote the video of the extravaganza with mixed success, eventually finding a web-host after a long drawn out process, but the DVD project still lingers in the air…The DJ still has incredible dreams about putting it all together.
    The day after the London Coldcut memorial the DJ flew to Amsterdam, to meet with the band Galactic who were performing at the great Melkweg’ – musicians he knew from New Orleans, and after only a week living in Amsterdam the DJ had landed a job as a dishwasher at n Irish themed pub, which allowed him to stay a little longer, rent an apartment and build up a better resume’ 2 and a half years later the DJ/drummer is still in Amsterdam, studying…working on some ambitious projects, the long poem: “Shannanigums Wave” and experimental game-novel-screenplay: “OUR HISTORIES BACK” Both experiments of lifting the “The Tale of the Tribe” into a new creative arena and creating a new framework to explore some of the Idea’s and clue’s Dr. Wilson left us to chew over for the next 1000 years…
    Steven (Fly Agaric) Pratt. (01/01/10) 

  • Steve Fly’s Saturnalia

    Steve Fly’s Saturnalia

    Steve Fly’s Saturnalia

    The John Sinclair Foundation Presents
    VINTAGE RADIO VAULTS 61

    Steve Fly’s Saturnalia
    Fly Agaric Studio, Amsterdam, December 23, 2009 [VV-0061]
    The last few weeks I’ve witnessed John Sinclair programming spontaneous radio shows across the table from me. John made a number of shows that knocked me off my stool so I figured it was my duty as DJ Fly Agaric to respond with a festive selection of tunes. The tracks were selected from my LP collection, recorded Wednesday 22nd December 2009 on a H4 Zoom Recorder.

    PLAYLIST 61
    [00] Baba Israel > Detroit Life Radio ID
    [01] Darlene Love: Marshmallow World
    [02] Channel One Studio: Ballistic Affair version
    [03] Miles Davis: Round About Midnight
    [04] Bobby Lester & the Moonglows: Hey Santa Claus
    [05] Clark-Boland Big Band: Sakara
    [06] Fel Kuti: Trouble Sleep Yanga Wake Am
    [07] The Larks: I Ain’t Fattening No Frogs For Snakes
    [08] The Ronettes: Sleigh Ride
    [09] Jimmy Reed: Rockin’ with Reed
    [10] Marcus Belgrave: Glue Finger (Part 2)
    [11] James Brown: Don’t Tell a Lie about Me
    [12] Bob Marley: No Water
    [13] Rage Against the Machine: Killing In The Name
    [14] Baba Israel > Detroit Life Radio ID

    Produced, edited & assembled by DJ Fly Agaric 23
    Vinyl spun on two Vestax turntables & recorded on Zoom H4 recorder
    Post-production, editing & annotation by John Sinclair
    Executive Producer: Larry Hayden
    Special thanks to Steve “Fly” Agaric & a Merry Xmas to all.
    © 2009, 2011 The John Sinclair Foundation. All Rights Reserved.
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  • JOHN SINCLAIR in Stourbridge: With Fly And Friends.

    An Evening with JOHN SINCLAIR & DJ Fly Agaric XX111 – 14th August 2009, Stourbridge, England.

    Flyer by Bobby Campbell:


    Big Chief of the River Stour presents:
    An Evening with JOHN SINCLAIR & DJ Fly Agaric XX111
    BEAT Poetry.
    The Bonded Warehouse Canal Street Stourbridge DY8 4LU
    Friday 14th July 2009.

    Performance Poet, Jazz and Blues Scholar, prolific writer, radio DJ, civil rights activist, street level philosopher; described as “The Angel of Detroit” by Allen Ginsberg, and “Last of the beatnik warrior poets” by Mick Farren, John Sinclair makes his first appearance in the Mid Westlands, U.K. 2009. From the intro to his book FATTENING FROGS FOR SNAKES – Amiri Baraka writes: “John has always , since I have known him, dug the music. From the way back to the way out.”

    Fly Agaric XX111, is a reader/poet, dj/writer, drummer who left Stourbridge for USA in 19 long time, where he did things. He then returned briefly to Stourbridge in 2005 and left again for Holland were he now fills balloons in a famous Amsterdam Coffee house, and blogs widely.

    —————–000——————
    The Bonded Warehouse building, serves the community for a wide range of functions. The 3 storey Warehouse dating from 1799 is situated alongside the Stourbridge Town Arm Canal, a number of narrowboats are permanently moored there.

    http://www.radiofreeamsterdam.com/john-sinclair-radio-show-241/

    http://johnsinclair.us/
    http://www.myspace.com/flyagaric23
    http://wordspore.blogspot.com/

    http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Ffriday-the-13th-john-sinclair-and-his-amsterdam-blues-scholars& FRIDAY THE 13TH – John Sinclair and his Amsterdam Blues Scholars by flyagaric23

    http://stores.lulu.com/flyagaric23
    http://fatteningblogsforsnakes.blogspot.com/
    http://flyolympic.blogspot.com/
    http://wordspore.blogspot.com/
    http://tsogblogsphere.blogspot.com/
    http://flyagaric2019.blogspot.com/
    http://acrillic.blogspot.com/
    http://maybelogic.blogspot.com/
    http://electronicdrugs.blogspot.com/
    http://ataleofatribe.blogspot.com/
    http://www.myspace.com/flyagaric23
    http://www.myspace.com/flyagaric24
    http://www.myspace.com/rawmemorial
    http://soundcloud.com/flyagaric23
    http://www.flickr.com/photos/14660896@N05/
    http://djflyagaric23.blogspot.com/

  • FS is for FLY-STYLE: Free writing in 09

    It feels way too long since i just sang. After all, fly should be droppin’ it, and them, like 10 ton chickens out of a hercules, or a few cows off a bridge. Introductions are over, honeymoon is up. Lights on, sound check and all the practice comes back, payback, playback for recording activity. GODISTURBER? what is it, two people compressed into a word? Godisturber, or durber…do you think she heard you? disturbance of the wave, dance of the dust mite, flows might get dusted. No turning back just around, on rotation, a duty, to turn, to change the dials, and cherish hilaritas and fun, tracing smiles for miles a day.

    The face of type under cosmetic review by the doctor, boots polished with ink, tread milling the pressure onto the street – imprints – impressions left, but what is right to write tonight, what is left to sift and lift? escalator and calculator combined to take a square root back to minus one. Disturbance of writing, what is it. Patterm, gramar and speech like jagged rocks in the tongues road. Surprises wrapped around every lampost, posted light and posted time awaiting your every stirring. Steering sentences into places you hope will alight faces, grace the next sentence and free the meaning, with each word and dust mite movement, with each undulation and flow, comes and goes me. Me the other disturber, aiming for anchorage and honest translation of visions, a package for chu, a package of elongated verbage. Age retraced in mind and beauty, retraced thought replaced with a new sporting chance. New free sentences to enhance the dance of particle wave waltz and end. To stop and go on amber and direct traffic into terrific. Speed out of the middle lane and cruise above the assfault altogether. Pulling clouds down and putting new sky up via skype. Sky up and blue in the air, up from the aluminium roads and factory canavas floor into the skylights, the last remaining green belt wrapped around Britain’s naked body. A horse-race of letters, a jockey of jabberwockey, keys two, the stable. We are for balance. Equation and mathematical system. We are measuring courses for Ostriches, by the feather weight. Heart of solid steel, no, of gold.

    http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fshannanigums-wave-book-iii& Shannanigums Wave Book III Chapter 11 Page 67. by flyagaric23

    A heart of rock-stone? a heart full of blood and pumps, a heart of pulses and waltzes with riddim. Heart and head laid down snug. Head and heart beating, bleeding words that got sentenced. Alphabetty shackled the soul aboard to the jetty, waves mirrored my close shave with sea foam. Phone home and away i went, travelling the telegraph paths, to find sense in this monologue leading to the bog. Cogs and wheels within’ circles, bones of past people’s particulars appear as lentickle-your-ears through lenses of grit. No moaning or more angry man’s madness in word, the way to an angry mad world, the new colour and contour leads the wire forrest freakeys out to new worlds, inhabiting spaces and places that hasty abrupt neophobes fail to adapt to. Your way and paths and roads and noodle highways are the ways, must write them out, write them way out, off -if possible. Write them off and turn them on, drop them out and dial her up, boil a cup of hearts broth, add dust mite and moth to make mothers brew, a glossing tossed in a pan of pun with butter. Splurge and splatter letter after letter after letter and chase the picture, the landscape and the actions, skip the nouns and hijack the verbs.

    Big up the verbs of all walks and ways about them, the turning ones of no fixed address, nomadic tribes folk of letters, the moving semiotic train, the moving bus and car, rust, tracks, carriage to carry out the trip trail, migrating letters and running words, dripping context and wind blown full stops. Null stops going forward to reverse positions and exercise the transition from high view twisting and word rollings out, the build up of pastry and pantry smells, the glue and binding molecules of doe, ray, me, so far the tale has baked itself into phrases melted down through the ages, gloopy goos of the great old ones returning, returning the flavour. The life and death march backward, out of ages into history factory production line, history formed and stamped, shaped and packaged, distributed by time and space, clive and tracy, graggy and laced, spaz and rave, you see the surprise on my face.

    As i lean down to tie my lace i get my finger looped in the ribbon of shoe, my tongue starts talking and before you know it i am being run out my socks, run around the wreakin’ like an etheopian long distancer. My tongue got a hold of my soul and laced up the tale of the toe. So now, a few minutes of passed and i feel gassed amidst the mist of literal twist, mint rust and apple pudding. Sweet snowflake, and pattern to distinguish individual spelling. Water language dropping, back to flows, and more of those. Staple the friendly papyrus to one-another and build book-witch, belonging to Dante and the Witches Sabbath. Blind boy Jimmy Johnson could see that back flows and under-currents swirl the girl and boy like a toy boat in a bath with a fat man. Big waves and particle fizz. Foam and lappings.

    Trappings of the pre-fix, the very and the more, good, bad and rhetoric. Veins upon the trees shirt strike me down dead in the park. I confess nothing. Disturbance and journey to the centre, to keep moving and styling the phone. Phonetic E.T’s going home. But what is to come after the transtime event? or before the end of history? Avoid the void and bless the woid, and balance yourself, on the edge, comfortable and with a smile like Harold Lloyd. What black and white picture show, just alphabet whatcha show, i ask myself whatcha’ showing, a comma, a full sharp. Flat space and spiral earth. Jerky meat box boys in a cupbaord with a monkey must move the mustard seeds from the ape political party chair, sitting on seeds can result in bum tree and pinapple sap head conditions i should not write of in an off handed manner like so. Like so what, i write off the cuff, and on the bluff side of the loon. No delete delete.

    Moving feet are dancing again, dancing barefoot in the mud to strike the MOOD for it to trickle rain. A wetness of image dryed up, wrinkled old alphabetty. Formation dispanded by rubbers and ink-delete pens of mass destruction. Not in more than 12 months have i pumped up my staright backtype to attempt a trapeze poem of sleeze on the fly. How high the moon, how low the vault? Light and sound pulses chatter on top of the surface of any lake you like, waves waves and waves again, never folding waves, always fighting the waves and partying with particles, making light of it all. Shed light on it and hope more of – it all – comes to mind. Kisstory. Misty eared. No rap, but feedbacks. Rap and music. Word-code and air farts seem words apart. Apples turning over adams applecart on linneaus straat. Identifiction and the visscitudes and multiplexy glass looking class-room. Freedom to roam without sentence law. Rhyme and sense for added spice grinders. No fear of the mis-readings of free bleeding of sense data. From a key-build world of distrubance, dance and good solid meal lies, a good soft meal, solid? I sribble for a bad soft meal, a flabby saft salted peanut walk in the park.

    An orchestral doobie in the dark. No excuse for the digression, my passion awaits trial, selector be my witness, the ground has swollen up like a bumble bee banquet on the balls. Relief from the angles, the ground corners and shaved sides of whats SQUARE. No squares aloud. Still scratching to try and match the hue hatcher of legend untold. In the days of wildfires, child-locks and adult safety checking accounts the accountable are unable to numerically factor the figures in line with the diggers who place daggers in the heart and cripple the face muscles with the squints and turn us into glimpses Mick Jagger. Like a saucepun i can’t handle it. Spilling mistakes my steaks. Thrilling the gates open with fling-a-ling songs and a scavengers desire for a trash palace of the linguage centres, behind the middle grounds of normalford manner, more junk talk, and with a squark and a gobble, gutteral punk, literal junk talk of coca cola and antagonisms, jimpsun weed and spleen reconstructive drama.

    Clean slate and dirty jokes chopped like carrots on marble. Table top to bottom drawer there, i saw a paragraph swinging out the margins of blank. A paragraph dressed in camal-flange and chlorinated. Red betwenen the lights, blue between the sheets and green between the teeth. And the doors are open, i was hoping this would come over last summer or before that, with the wine and rose bud days but no. Never till now, till now, the paragraph comes leaping out from beyond the RULE. Drawing the lines and boundaries of space to fill with free fuzz and buzz, flapping and side-strokes, small wriggle movements and darts to all directions, quarkes and get set. Rumble of trumpet cases in the trunk, funk band on the road, setting off, the words setting sail and finding and window of wind-go.

    Faster sharps and flats recursive recorso distrubance. Royal disturbance and slippery foot turns on the oil perturbances scattered in these skits and bits of rhyme glue. A large sprawling array of how i say it. Nothing in particular just stretching our vernacular wires and antenna out to reach Dracula and Cinema veritae’ The real died yonks ago, who invented the real? So the verb plays out up in the backside of the groove the verb echos the future spaces and past places of outer-crash wave, bounce. To polish the stones they abolish and throw them like snowmen and their balls through walls of debt brick and steel, through air glass shafts of crippled overtones and harmonic shake ups.

    To shake the sky into order and put the starts on the musical stave. Unyour wobbling pivot to measure the class of word-sound honour and the family of whynotwhats and whofortonowwhens – the information that binds the jumble of crumbled noun. Music to unite the crowning glory of story and tale to leave and bright silken routes to follow, pick up, and thread into the inklish boots, laced footwear taken me hostage once agin, on a plane to ubuntu, the words pulling from just aroud a blind corner, the sound of the sentence directs the destiny, but to tackle the rhyme with fix-it substances, and sew up the pristine package for friends and etyms, taking control of roll and reuniting it with rock in a solid foundation. My flow has go on it, goo on blow the nose of knowledge out your assets. Finger mouse creeping under the cat glove in the kitchen – seems to be pushing the limits of sensible writing and shows the down side to freedom of thought and speech, a child’s TV show and a Ikea oven glove fused.

    Like a spark plug in the mouth, the lights are tangy tonight. Crevices and dried up entrances to places only a spider could have known have fell into my scripture, visitors from next door, visitors from across the way, the river side has turned into the water-cider in a drunken tantrum of descriptive lenses. From one side the bath looks opel, from the other coral. The mantra of fish might make for a useful wish in a whales bellyfull of tele-tummy touch table tops. Cable cuts and splices, PING. Crossed wires and fancy foundations of frankly – far and away – flipped fakery. All word comes to this and that, eventually the fuel fails to follow the road and the journey comes to a hault, not mine or yours or anybosy elses but the felt tip feels full and bloated, the felt tip of my finger on this bastard keys, wishing they were LP’s. Letting the wind-up speak. Letting the rumble of word speak and spoke the wheels within gyres within disks. Turn.

    http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fshannanigums-wave-book-iii-chapter-xii& Shannanigums Wave Book III Chapter XII by flyagaric23

  • 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

  • 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?