rating: 2 of 5 stars
About a hundred fifty excellent pages into the opus of the Nobel Prize-crafty man of letters, something happens. If it happens in the book, it's not observable - a reader is only able to approximate its location in the story in the wake of the remaining seventy thousand words. And it happens to the whole of the book. Neither an important character nor the text itself, for example, suddenly goes blind; we are operating in the next level of indirection. It's as if a vital gene has been replaced: nothing may be immediately evident, yet the organism is now fundamentally and terminally different. It could only be an achievement or nothing; and who cares that it's the latter.
Not worth reading.
That which I owe is lost; but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both
Or bring your latter hazard back again
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
aspectral, the light of your flower bestows itself and fills: my heart with angel songs, my soul - with so much love. beautiful, to be veiled by nothing, you cast them, loveshadows.
joytear river drooping into the delta.
where do i begin, orchis and orchis, singly,
to tell the sweet love story into the sea.
singularly terse poetics grandiose salivary
snow-white mustang knee deep in immature estrogen
snow: white of the death unaccepted postmortem
answer the polyphone call
The pianist is alone in a soundproof space. Her music is streamed outside in real time.
The percussionist wearing headphones is alone in a soundproof space. He subscribes to the pianist’s feed and starts playing along. He can now hear both his own playing and the piano in his headphones, but only the drums are streamed outside.
The cellist plays along with the percussion but does not care for the piano and does not subscribe to its stream.
Both the percussionist and the pianist get cello into their headphones.
The percussionist is now playing with the pianist who hears but cello, and with the cellist who hears but drums. The cellist is improvising with two people who are listening to him, but he is only paying attention to the drummer. Finally, the pianist is playing with the cello that is focusing on its duet with the drums.
One hundred forty two alto saxophone players subscribe to piano and drums.
One hundred forty five musicians are now improvising together. One hundred forty five pieces are being composed. Any musician’s work is available to everybody else. Each is free to alter a subset of incoming streams at any moment. Each is stimulated by a constantly changing group of indirect collaborators. Opportunities for live or postmortem remixing.
Add spring chicken for $1.50.
In the mornings he usually rests, eating his own feces in order to help digest the tough cellulose in the grass.