conflagration of the sai-antam ashram (on the eighth day of freedom my truelove gave to me)

conflagration of the sai-antam ashram,
ubik has appeared.
(the chickens have come home to roost)

‘the triumphant cries of her frenzied murderers and the music of their harps’

god bless you golden protesters.
god bless you swedish school striker
god bless you gilets jaunes
god bless you refugees and economic migrants
another europe is possible.

modern horror films are rubbish

horsemouth is acting like he has money (by spending it)
- but of course he doesn’t have the money,
it’s his younger self who has the money

(and sadly there is
only a limited supply
of his younger self
to be had).

on the eighth day of freedom my truelove gave to me

eight echoes off the ukraine
seven intellectuals lost in the forest
six used tissues
the five original members of the blue oyster cult
(and four alsatians)
four golden protesters
three discrete coughs
two naked children covered with silver paint

... and the severed head of long lankin

on the fourth day of freedom my truelove gave to me (four golden protesters)

god bless you golden protesters. god bless you swedish school striker for offering out the climate change conference - in 70 years time I will meet with my children and grandchildren, she said,I will tell them I was here, and they will ask me WHY YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WHILE YOU STILL HAD THE CHANCE.

pardon horsemouth. he doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore so he tends to sentimentalise people who do. god bless you (non-fascist) gilets jaunes for refusing to starve quietly in your garrets and provincial towns, for showing that another europe is possible. god bless you refugees and economic migrants journeying in search of a better life

horsemouth is, as you might be able to tell, a cosmic sentimentalist. at some point (and with an audible pop) the world changed from a bitter battleground between contending classes into a beautiful (but doomed) party.

seeing as his conception of the world is already a party horsemouth has little truck with c-h-r-i-s--t--m-a-s or other pseudo-parties. horsemouth continues to be ill, he continues to accidentally transgress facebook community standards by showing you nipples and children covered in silver paint (the covers of venus in cancer by robbie basho and houses of the holy by led zepellin respectively). he’s not sure what he will get up to today (his second real day of freedom - but constrained by illness).

more from the silver (or is it golden) children- an 11 year old rimpa siva plays tabla

‘this mad riddle.. that no one knows what it is’ II

a giant flock of chickens has been roosting on the roofs and in the eaves of the houses of parliament for some time now. it started with one chicken and then rapidly became a deluge - with limpy skaggy legions of battery hens hobbling towards the capital down all major roads.

thousands died along the way - but thousands more still made it. the security procedures were designed for terrorists and journalists, they were not designed to cope with chickens.

soon the sills and the parking bays were white with a mixture of slimy impacted guano and feathers. people began to itch and sneeze and develop allergies. the stench (in wet weather) was awful. taxi drivers would refuse to take you there. westminster bridge fell silent. even the tourists began to stay away.

the sound balance of tv broadcasts were disrupted by random howling cockerels, so the bbc stayed home. cabling was chewed through. even the rats mysteriously vanished, retreating to sub-dungeons and forgotten basements. more and more staff phoned in sick. armed police asked to returned to normal duties. MPs returned more and more to their constituencies.

slowly the gothic contours of the palace were covered as if by mud dribbled from on high - and in a sense it was. eventually the whole place was condemned and forgotten about.

-------------------


wait for it wait for it...

horsemouth is done for the year. (he’s so done). (ok he’s got to drop off some paperwork monday). having become done, horsemouth walked home. stuck on the oven to cook a pizza and ... fell to sleep. when he woke up he discovered there’s no pizza in the house. (ok pasta, pesto and fakemeat it is).

thursday night richard (wild hare) stayed - they went for pizza and in the morning horsemouth put him on the bus (the wrong bus). this is why horsemouth needs a break.

last night he should have been out at the collective endeavour’s christmas party - but he was knackered and misanthropic. instead he sunk a bottle of beer and  caught up on the news.



horsemouth's friend kevin has been busy - he's  even played a gig.

horsemouth paved with good intentions

friday night horsemouth went out to see v4v play - his friend nick doyne-ditmas plays in it (as does the drummer charles hayward). he met myk there. he’s just remembered there was an admission fee so that’s good it means he didn’t spend quite as much on beer as it first appeared (but, of course, he’s not any richer for this remembering).


horsemouth is failing to find the names of the other bands who played (ok no he’s found them now) - he missed the first (solitary) guitarist (apparently playing with the bass player also), then there was Sons of Viljems guitar/effects/ (double) bass who were enjoyable (in an angular way), then a singer technology and violin duo Ama//Mizua (their faith placed in pop music) - most enjoyable, then V4V. 



charles hayward obviously enjoys playing there was a huge grin on his face throughout the proceedings as he accelerated, decelerated, and complicated the beats - and this is what led the music. there were fine moments with nick’s cornet into effects set up matching the technobabble vocalese coming fro the DJ (DJ BPM) and the steve hillage as improv guitar (vern edwards).

given charles hayward's gleeful refusal to let it settle for very long horsemouth was totally impressed that none of the musicians fell off at any point. and then after an encore they were gone- horsemouth was soon dancing again, and drinking more, and chatting to the youth, er. and drinking more and the band went home and myk went home and...., well how do you think he reached his current state, eventually horsemouth went home too.

rotten bliss/ nonfictional

but meanwhile (and more importantly) horsemouth has been out to a gig...


first off rotten bliss (jasmine pender) - she begins with an acapella version of what sounds like a celtic version of the two sisters (‘the one threw her sister over’ - or perhaps the old woman lived on the seashore) some celtic lyrics anyway and then it’s cellos and harmonics and delay and distortion and soundscapes and bass synthesizers and rattling chains. as opposed to toe played zithers we have toe played ipads - controlling the backing textures. a good use of textures and technology. lots of the sea. lots of lotte reiniger type images - like the prehistory of the brothers quay.




... and then nonfictional (in this case without horsemouth’s friend and bass-player/ trumpet player nick doyne-ditmus who had a chest infection and so couldn’t play). a bit echoes a bit siouxsie sioux opined myk, horsemouth would have agreed about echoes but transferred in the cocteau twins - really great singing and playing by maggie turner (vocals), david hunger (guitar), ravi low-beer (percussion). ... are sunday afternoon gigs the way forward (and home in time for tea).

after the gig they bumped into merv (of dead dog mountain) upstairs and chatted amiably like old men.

gigs, books, films, events november 2018

gigs

gwenifer raymond, echo choir, martin howard, S&M, and bity booker 

books

•  the beetle - richard marsh, 
• no future - t.j. clark - new left review 2012 
• julian stallabrass on the mute magazine anthology -new left review 2012
•  a victorian poacher - james hawker's journal 
• the invention of morel - adolfo bioy casares, suzanne jill levine's introduction and jorge luis borges's prologue 
• art forum (nov 2018) 
• peggy kamuf's introduction to derrida's without alibi 

films the thing, derek bailey improv series, chiwonisu video for zvichapera, the thing from outer space, various italo horrors, dracula, the mummy (hammer horrors), the grudge (remake), night of the demon, ghost rider, day of the triffids, bertolucci’s the conformist (part), the artist phil collins' 'marxism today', opening scene of 'suspiria' (dario argento 1977).

 events play gig at waterintobeer, beers with steve and gideon, coffee with andy, kate, nesta and kimi, conflagration of the sai-antam ashram, ubik has appeared.

the elated denunciations of john fahey

a thread has emerged of people making the kind of elated denunciations of john fahey that he might have made himself about other musicians e.g. "why is john fahey so boring?” this is reassuring - it means at least some people understand him (at least a little).




anne-marie mieville (jean-luc godard’s ex-wife and editor) says the following in her book 'images en parole' (or is it marcel C. who says this, or is it just back cover gossip written by some hack at the publishers).

 'L'auteur avait hésité. La parole ou les paroles. Puis le pluriel avait disparu. Il indiquait sans doute un flot trop vague et trop immense. Déluge des télévisions, sports et politique. Et il ne s'agissait pas de cela. Pas du tout. Simplement de ce qu'il peut y avoir de singulier dans la parole. La parole donc, seule et singulière, sachant et pouvant seule rendre compte et conte des multiples singularités des images. Seule contre toutes. Parole qui vient et va. Qui vient pour une fois de l'image sans lui dicter la loi. Qui va ensuite en direction de l'écriture. À travers champs sans rendre la monnaie. [...] Alors s'impose une lecture lente, loin des e-mails et des portables tchotchobizoubizou. M. C.' 

what is said, google autotranslate (with a little polishing by horsemouth) gives us this...

'The author has hesitated. The spoken word or words. Then the plural was gone. It indicated a flow too vague and too immense. A Flood of televisions, sports and politics. And it was not about that. Not at all. But simply that there may be singular in the word. The word, therefore, alone and singular, knowing and alone able to account for and tell the many singularities of the images. Only one against all. Word coming and going. Who comes for once from the image without dictating the law. Who goes next in the direction of writing. Across the fields without giving change. [...] Then is necessary a slow reading, far from the e-mails and the laptops/ mobiles(?) ciao kisses . M. C. '

from the flickering pages of this book shown in godard’s film  the image book (to be shown in the cinema for one night only), and by pausing, horsemouth can make out the chapter headings ____alisateur en chien de berger, cérémonie dans la cité, rève, la merde, by its position behind the title page the introduction/ dedication (signed marcel C.).

This is of course exactly the kind of sententious toss horsemouth likes to read about the relationship between word, words and images (by professionals in the field). maybe he will go and see the movie (sunday december 2nd) - or maybe he will be too poor.