Inscrutable Myths: Prelude + 1st Canto

from Contemporary Shootings (Burn This PDF, Vol. III), available here

(Prelude) With a fair amount of ambivalence, knowing as well as anyone that Nikos typically spends the hours of 3PM through 7PM, Monday through Friday, verifying the European origin of his dietary tract, I approached Mr Kazantzakis at 6:59 PM, ambling toward the screened-in patio of his modest row house located spitting distance from Garden City, and began as such:

01 (.748) Well Mr Kazantzakis, if I’m being honest with you, completely honest with you, if I’m holding back next to no honesty whatsoever, I should note that, yes, it’s indubitably true that of late I’ve found myself gluttonously chewing four to seven slices of gum in simultaneity, for a variety of reasons - in fact, it was just yesterday afternoon, prior to leaving our apartment to go grab a coffee that I indiscriminately shoved an entire pack of gum into my mouth and exuberantly chewed this large ball of gum, wondered if chewing gum was actually good for your teeth, when the thought occurred to me: Is emo the highest form of classical music America is historically responsible for? When discussing American music, I thought while chewing an entire pack of gum, a litany of genres, from post-bop jazz, to experimental rock, to avant-metal to the so-called classically trained composers of American descent, are discussed as ‘the truly classical music of America.’ ‘But what if emo is the truly classical American music?’ I thought to myself, chewing an entire pack of gum, preparing myself to pay full-price for a coffee out somewhere, despite the fact I had an entire pot of coffee at my apartment, waiting to be imbibed for free. The primary conceit of emo music is that its creators are young and white and male, and that they originate from neighborhoods that are safe if not opulent and utterly hate their lives. Nothing, it should be noted, is ever proceeding well for the emo band, as the slightest deviation from the emo band’s best case scenario is always apocalyptic, despite the fact that, sociopolitically at least, they have everything going for them. The emo participant exists at the apex of the American totem pole, and despite this fact everything remains essentially objectionable to them. Nothing is going well! The emo song is, in practice, the antithesis of the virtue signal. And it occurred to me, as I left my apartment to pay four dollars for a coffee that would inevitably be co-opted by an art school professor, with no regard to socially acceptable decibel levels. pontificating about people as brands to a foreign exchange student, that this type of wide-eyed narcissism, that this unironic ignorance of sociopolitical totem poles, this obsession with direct, lived experience at the expense of everything conceptual - is perhaps the apex of what should comprise American classical music? And I nodded my head at this notion as we entered the Honda asking Tina if she’d be willing to play ‘One-Eighty by Summer’ on our way to the coffee shop.

My Oil Paintings

You said something deep and no one gave a shit my oil paintings looked like cunt fucked up at the Greek fest who said buying a subsequent bottle of Retsina is ill-advised? 

I’m ninety nine percent Pine Sol this is ritualistic writing erotic poems for Russian whores and signing my name χριστός ανέστη you can drown in a glass of water 

Philosophy still can’t save us people no longer chew wrapped pieces of gum no the industry has transitioned to free floating mini buckets of gumballs

How can I possibly concentrate on nuclear holocausts with all these big bad booty bitches around the mountain has better ears for bullshit I’ve never been a fan of camping

I’ve always found things somewhat preposterous I suppose two hookahs twist the little knob there you go I apologize for forgetting the meaning of cuando

Put some clothes on for Christ sake before you ball your eyes out I never lied about wanting to kill myself if anything the opposite! mountains have better ears for bullshit

Trees - some of them are old as fuck that’s why we built cities our fictions play better surrounded by buildings a Burmese python ate a forty four year old woman alive

It’s just like a snug little sleeping bag who doesn’t like to take a little nap four or five milligrams of melatonin why would you lie about wanting to drive yourself into a tree?

Thinking About Architecture

Thinking about architecture about the necessity of chance on a Nickanee’s patio with a group of people adjacent

Adjacent and discussing Chinese food in a manner that strikes you as the talk of pure imbeciles that like if chance is necessary? 

And it has to be necessary otherwise everything would become irreparably fixed but if it’s in fact necessary then it’s also in a sense fixed essentially being a necessity?-puzzling 

There’s a little triangle tattooed on a pinky finger there’s no individual ecstasy in architecture only during periods of intense collectivism at any given time it’s difficult

It’s challenging to quantify the amount of conversing occurring on the planet that’s architecture in a sense guy with a hook nose intensely biting his fingernails as upper middle class whites watch in awe

As other upper middle class whites recreate a modal jazz that was cutting edge in nineteen sixty five on Elmwood Avenue you recall images

Which informs your decision making in material ways recollected images are animated and in turn falsified solely in your mind

Which exists in a location that you can’t quite place at the time as you cross a windy Washington Street bridge a figure of this or that proportion is constructed in your memory

What we call your memory currently we’ll call it your memory to move out of the realm of seminal attraction into one of pure representation

An Aborted Anime Opera, Pt. 3

Two midgets eating delicious looking rice bowls at Xaco Taco. 

Repeating the phrases 

“There is no image.” 

“There is no memory.” 

There’s no image and there’s no memory. 

Sans image and memory we can start to approach the fundamental nature of the universe as such. 

Triple egg omelet 

with the kalamata olives. 

A chest crevice stained 

in a permanent ink of sorts. 

Cuddly beavers eat vegetables from the hands of well intentioned human beings. 

The small bottles of soju were only eight bucks a piece. 

On Poetry

Subtitled: Set Meter or Category Meter?

Categories are aesthetically imperative. Distinguishing one thing from another thing is a typical endeavor of conscious entities, and I sometimes think this is why Robert Ashley was so adamant about his work being referred to as opera, even though it didn’t strike all that many people as that on first glance. You could argue we’ve become a little too complacent when it comes to categories, that we don’t rigorously define categories in aesthetics as much as we used to. To Ashley, for example, his work was a fusion of text and music, in long form, so it was opera. In his words, there was nothing else you could call it. I’ve similarly struggled with category, because you’re always tempted to re-categorize things, usually in ways that are critically or commercially advantageous to your work. No one wants to write poems anymore just like, for a time, no one in American wanted anything to do with opera. You can’t pitch a poem to a literary agent. It’s a genre with basically no commercial value left in it whatsoever.

As a side note, categorically, it seems like poetry should be: a text that adheres to some fixed sequence of sound patterns? Otherwise, what would poetry be? Is it just line breaks? No, that’s absurd, because if poetry is defined by having line breaks, then its qualitatively indistinguishable from prose. An enter key can’t define a literary genre. When poetry exits its natural metrical iterations it perhaps loses sight of its proper definition. If we agree that an enter key can’t define a literary genre, then poetry, if defined by line breaks and not metrical structure - or by feeling or other nebulous attributes that could very easily also be attributable to prose - isn’t a literary genre. It seems obvious that what primarily distinguishes prose from poetry is the former is not measured temporally, while the latter, by some method or another, is. Sans this measurement it becomes a nonsensical category, and I’d offer the possibility that the “serious poet” has continued to decline in relevance in Western culture in congruence with this unfortunate categorical restructuring of poetry. Poetry used to be the highest form of literature, held in the same royal esteem as philosophy. Philosophy was even at times chiefly expressed through poetry. Do people not yearn for poetry anymore? The popularity of rap music could suggest otherwise. 

In fact it was on pocket notepads in retail parking lots that I first started developing a new meter - I was listening to my cherished CDs of Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2 and Supreme Clientele, intensely studying the intricacies of Raekwon and Ghostface’s language, how at times they would use the absolute bare minimum micro-repetitions to vault their narrative lines forward. It struck me as a genius use of language - a pushing forward of rhyme schemes, to the point where at times they were no longer strictly rhyming at all, where they weren’t defining themselves by line length or end-rhymes, but by a machine-gun like dispersion of very small symmetries. Big Pun used a more ostentatious but similarly subterranean style on Capital Punishment. Those three really put the bug in my head about developing forward-looking meters, about measuring the tiniest possible symmetries in a line - not Ashbery or Pound or Eliot or Tate or WCW or Whitman or Ginsberg or Stein. And then it was studying Ashley’s operas that moved me to formalize that type of structure more mathematically, to make it categorical in a sense.

So then a movement toward making poetry metrical again doesn’t have to ipso facto reintroduce iambic pentameter. Poetry doesn’t need to go back to classical meters to adhere to a meter. A fixed sequence can be an extensive quantification, but it can also be intensive. You could count syllables. You could established fixed patterns. But you could develop quotients as well. You could establish a fixed range for these quotients. The sequence would then be variable in a way, but fixed as well. Wouldn’t that be metrical as well? Wouldn’t that be a text adhering to some fixed sequence of sound patterns?

The idea that came to me further in stages, usually while I was sleeping or in a waking state, was developing what I now call an echo quotient. A quantification of the aggregate symmetry in a line or a poem. An echo being an instance of symmetry. Symmetry being an instrument of acceleration. Acceleration being a key to breaking through things. 

There’s a binary of stressed and unstressed, but there’s also a binary of the symmetric and the asymmetric. 

There’s Set Theory where each mathematical object is defined by its interior (stressed-unstressed, stress-unstressed). There’s Category Theory where each mathematical object is defined by how its overall value relates to surrounding objects (the first line is 72.4% symmetrical (echoes/syllables), while the second line is 69.3%, and the third is 70.4%: all three lines fall within a range of .667-1.00). 

You could reasonably argue that not everything has to be strictly about counting. 

 

Ex:

 

Line 1: ()(--) ()(--) ()(--) ()(--) ()(--) - unstressed/stressed - iambic pentameter
Line 2: (-) (-) (--)(--) ()(-) (-)() (--)() - symmetric/asymmetric - macrotonal 
() = syllable
-- = stressed/symmetric 
- = partially symmetric

 

The two lines are iambically divergent but macrotonally equal
i.e. A line in iambic pentameter has a stress quotient of 0.50. The macrotonal line above has an equal echo quotient of 0.50

But the above are only preliminary examples. Really, what this meter is - is a macrotonal meter, and by that I mean it’s focused on the two things: (a) the extension of the line, and (b) the line’s relation with itself. 

An extended line that’s measured in relation to itself - then that measurement relates to the other lines of the poem. 

The line must be severely extended! In The Madness of a Cloud, the initial poem has a mean line length of 375 syllables, while the epilogue has a MLL of 144 syllables. The lines are even longer in Metropolis + Isosceles. You extend the line so it has more of an opportunity to relate with itself, to loop back and thrust itself forward - the line relates to itself via a scattered symmetry of sound - it’s basically, in rap terms, a long internal rhyme scheme in the service of a narrative thrust, but the scheme, rather than A-B-A-B-C-B-C is denoted by a quotient. How many instances of echoes are in the line in relation to its total syllable count. 

Echoes divided by syllables equals echo quotient equals macrotonal value. That’s how the line is defined, and that’s how it relates to the other lines in the poem. The echo quotient.

The meter, strictly speaking, is then this shared range. In the case of (a) Adam Metropolis, (b) Larry Isosceles, and (c) The Madness of a Cloud, to take three examples, the meter is >.667. So each line’s symmetrical relationship with itself is greater than two-thirds - or: there are 67 or more echoes (internal “rhymes”) for every 100 syllables. The symmetrical relationship each line has with itself is in the final third of the number One. 

Symmetry accelerates. Another tenet of Ashley’s work in opera was his assertion that the English language needed to be accelerated, that due to the higher concentration of consonants, due to the more wide array of discrete phonetic sounds, that English couldn’t be slowed down to the same degree as the Romantic languages.  

Ex:

 

Eros is a Gateway

 

Line 01 (Initial Edit)
Cloud was [f][i]ne [w]ith [w]h[a]tever Ti[f]a [w][a]nted to [s][a]y to him (“I al[w][a]ys [w][a]nt you to [s]peak your m[i]nd!”), [b]ut he just [w][a]sn’t going to [b]ack off his [w]ell-[d]eveloped (in his m[i]nd) [i][d]ea [th]at [th]e [i]n[s][t]itution [i]t[s]elf (as a [c]on[c]ept) was fundamentally [r]e[s]t[r][i][c]t[i]ve, [th]at [th]ey shouldn’t ne[c]e[s]s[ar]ily [c][ar]e what’s in the [c]ontainer (“[C]atego[r][y] theo[r][y]!”), but al[s][o] that e[r][o][s] [w]as a g[a]te[w][a]y. Ti[f]a just wasn’t sure th[a]t doing [th][a]t in the bar, [a][f]ter hours - she [d]i[d]n’t kn[o]w, was that ap[p][r][o][p][r]iate, Cloud?
Echoes: 76
Cloud was fine with whatever Tifa wanted to say to him (“I always want you to speak your mind!”), but he just wasn’t going to back off his well-developed (in his mind) idea that the institution itself (as a concept) was fundamentally restrictive, that they shouldn’t necessarily care what’s in the container (“Category theory!”), but also that eros was a gateway. Tifa just wasn’t sure that doing that in the bar, after hours - she didn’t know, was that appropriate, Cloud?
Syllables: 124
Quotient: .612903

 

Line 01 (Revised Edit)
Cloud was [f]or sure [f][i]ne [w]ith [w]h[a]tever Ti[f]a [w][a]nted to [s][a]y to him (“I al[w][a]ys [w][a]nt you to [s]peak your m[i]nd!”), [b]ut he just [w][a]sn’t going to [b]ack off his [w]ell-[d]eveloped (in his m[i]nd) [i][d]ea [th]at [th]e [i]n[s][t]itution [i]t[s]elf (as a [c]on[c]ept) was ba[s]i[c]ally [r]e[s]t[r][i][c]t[i]ve, [th]at [th]ey shouldn’t ne[c]e[s]s[ar]ily [c][ar]e what’s th[e][r]e in the [c]ontainer (“[C]atego[r][y] theo[r][y]!”), but al[s][o] that e[r][o][s] [w]as a g[a]te[w][a]y. Ti[f]a ju[s]t wasn’t [c]ertain th[a]t e[n]gaging i[n] [th][a]t in the bar, [a][f]ter hours - she [d]i[d]n’t kn[o]w, was th[a]t [a][c]tual[l]y ap[p][r][o][p][r]iate, [C][l]oud?
Echoes: 91
Cloud was for sure fine with whatever Tifa wanted to say to him (“I always want you to speak your mind!”), but he just wasn’t going to back off his well-developed (in his mind) idea that the institution itself (as a concept) was basically restrictive, that they shouldn’t necessarily care what’s there in the container (“Category theory!”), but also that eros was a gateway. Tifa just wasn’t certain that engaging in that in the bar, after hours - she didn’t know, was that actually appropriate, Cloud?
Syllables: 133
Quotient: .684211

 

Line 02 (Initial Edit)
[E]ven if sh[e] wan[t]ed [t]o [d]o [i]t! [I]n the [b]ar?! Sure, C[l]oud total[l]y un[d]er[s]tood, [b]ut, again - ju[s]t to [r]eite[r][a]te - e[r]os was a g[a]tew[a]y. [I]t [d][i][d]n’t have to [b]e a[b]out, you know, purely that. [W]hat? - [w]as [T]ifa now going to a[l]low herself to [b][e] [t]y[r]annical[l][y] [r]e[s]t[r]ained [b]y the [i]n[s]t[i]tutio[n]al [n]orms of Shin[r]a, et al? That’s how she was going to [l]ive her [l]ife? - by the [r]ules of [Sh]in[r]a? [Sh]e could [p]op that [p]ussy [w]ide o[p]en [w]henever she [w]an[t]ed [t]o! - if sh[e] r[e]all[y] [w]an[t]ed [t]o, ev[e]n [i]f [i]t was ju[s]t [s]u[p]er [q]u[i][c]kly! ([W]hat [w]as the tem[p]e[r]ature in the [r]oom?)
Echoes: 80
Even if she wanted to do it! In the bar?! Sure, Cloud totally understood, but, again - just to reiterate - eros was a gateway. It didn’t have to be about, you know, purely that. What? - was Tifa now going to allow herself to be tyrannically restrained by the institutional norms of Shinra, et al? That’s how she was going to live her life? - by the rules of Shinra? She could pop that pussy wide open whenever she wanted to! - if she really wanted to, even if it was just super quickly! (What was the temperature in the room?)
Syllables: 141
Quotient: .567376

Line 02 (Revised Edit)
[E]v[e]n [i]f sh[e] wan[t]ed [t]o [d]o [i]t! [I]n the [b]ar?! Of [c]our[s]e, [C][l]oud total[l]y un[d]er[s]tood, [b]ut, again - ju[s]t to [r]eite[r][a]te - e[r]os was a g[a]tew[a]y. [I]t [d][i][d]n’t have to [b]e a[b]out, you know, purely that. [W]hat? - [w]as [T]i[f]a [n]ow gon[n][a] [a][l]low her[s]el[f] to [b][e] [t]y[r]an[n]ical[l][y] [r]e[s]t[r]ained [b]y the [i]n[s]t[i]tutio[n]al [n]orms of Shin[r]a, et al? [W]as that [n][ow] h[ow] she [w]as go[n]na [l]ive her [l]ife? - by the [c]ontem[p]uous [r]ules of [Sh]in[r]a? [Sh]e [c]ould [p]op that [p]ussy [w]ide o[p]en [w]henever she [w]an[t]ed [t]o! - if sh[e] r[e]all[y] [w]an[t]ed [t]o, ev[e]n [i]f [i]t was ju[s]t [s]u[p]er [q]u[i][c]k[l][y]! ([W]hat exa[c]t[l][y] [w]as the tem[p]e[r]ature in the [r]oom?)
Echoes: 107
Even if she wanted to do it! In the bar?! Of course, Cloud totally understood, but, again - just to reiterate - eros was a gateway. It didn’t have to be about, you know, purely that. What? - was Tifa now gonna allow herself to be tyrannically restrained by the institutional norms of Shinra, et al? Was that now how she was gonna live her life? - by the contemptuous rules of Shinra? She could pop that pussy wide open whenever she wanted to! - if she really wanted to, even if it was just super quickly! (What exactly was the temperature in the room?)
Syllables: 149
Quotient: .718121