Wednesday, October 30, 2002
"The Blimp! The Blimp!"
Posted 8:47 PM
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
Jerry Garcia; I mean a cloud I captured at dusk tonight. Striking profile from Barometrics, aye? This is not a hoax. No bytes were harmed or were in any danger at anytime during the handling of this graphic.
Posted 11:20 PM
Tuesday, October 1, 2002
Free falling graphic. Words, who needs them.
Posted 12:02 AM
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Where do I fit in this grand scheme of things?
Posted 11:58 PM
Sunday, September 22, 2002
No need in wasting a good moon.
Posted 11:57 PM
Saturday, September 21, 2002
Just tested the in home do-it-yourself, slapped together-on-the-spot recording session for one of Phantom's Favorites - Black Hole (3.2M)
Lyrics Posted: -- Black Hole --
-- Saturday, February 17, 2001
Posted 3:50 PM
Saturday, September 14, 2002
Hear the talking head psychoanalyze the state of the mass hypnosis movement.
Posted 2:12 AM
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
The habitants who happened by during the making of this moment. Yes, everything is real; albeit, considering the uneventfulness of the content, any additional commentary would be a distraction. Photos have been altered for a better presentation (Cats in picture are closer than they appear).
A pondering moment staged for the spontaneous ambience. Clearly all business and not a shred of mischief here.
Posted 12:29 AM
Monday, September 9, 2002
From days of yore this song was composed. A piece of inspiration that awakens me to the mystery of , "What in the world am I doing here?" After all it really doesn't matter where I am just as long as I am. That you can be sure of. That. I am.
Posted 12:23 AM
Saturday, September 7, 2002
Happy Birthday, Zahra!
A tune for your day.
Posted 11:10 PM
Thursday, September 5, 2002
Mother ship coming to take us home.
But wait I'm already there!
Posted 12:10 AM
Tuesday, August 27, 2002
You could say it was long overdue.
Posted 11:55 PM
Friday, March 29, 2002
Hey James the Inventor! Annie's Birthday Invitation for all the local folks.
Posted 7:35 PM
Friday, January 18, 2002
Posted 11:35 AM
Monday, December 24, 2001
Anyone who can guess what is pictured in this photo will be eligible for a special award.
Posted 1:45 AM
Friday, December 21, 2001
An off world approach toward manipulating human destiny can be seen by a study of how the Bene Gesserit transplanted the Kwisatz Haderach phenomenon into the Fremen society. Now if ever there was a time to implant a Messianic prophet to draw upon the faithful, that one propitious moment has arrived. It's unfortunate this type of mind alteration will not be viable. For by virtue of any discussion, the word would spread and its origin would be brought into the light. Imagine all the faithful having their lives crushed after discovering Phantom Mohammed (Muad'Dib's parallel) was actually Samuel Silversteinnerburgman.
Posted 11:25 PM
Wednesday, October 24, 2001
Lapses occur and frequently they offer new perspectives. If this hiatus doesn't provide new angles into the way things are viewed, I may as well be a shoe or some other inanimate object. Phil Paradis would give us exercises to loosen the writers' blockage so many have the pleasure of experiencing. I'll make a go of the practice. From the eyes of inanimate objects and other perspectives, the following flowed from my stubborn pen last Saturday.
Me An Elevator
You came in to my life
I'd see you on time
each day each way
The space between visits
had been too long.
Every day I grew
use to lifting this way
with you inside me and
a long in between without
you inside me
had been too long.
Hard to feel this way
a lonely elevator without
you inside me.
Hard to feel who to feel
Come back stay longer
Miss the floor you're going to
Come back stay longer
Come inside me now
Elevator me
It has been too long.ii
Your feet on me
Down is lighter
Up is harder
Your feet here is scaring me
All your feet are making
me fear.
Why so many?
What's the hurry, don't
push I'm afraid.
iii
Sky blue crisp wind
My tie is whipping through the breeze
So free I'm free and ready
to make a sudden
stop.
All my cares
out the window that was
glass a second ago
I'm going so fast now
Two, One, I'm free
at last.iv
Hot and black can't see
Can't breathe
Can't think
I hurt
I'm moving
Slow motion life of
mine I see in
front of me
No air no time
for good-bye
I'm stuck
Where am I
Pain
Air
v
Mrs. Seaghue again this time
she has a look of peace
convicted strength
her jaw quivers.
Joe isn't looking at me
He knows I know
No eye contact needed
We're thrown together
Joe and Mrs. Seaghue
and myself this moment.
Why? How us?
What did we do in previous
lives together to be
here together today.
Maybe meaning will come
but I've got to remember
this for the next time.
That dream I remembered
when Mrs. Seaghue's expression
reminded me and when
I stayed up all night
next to Dad before he died
but fell asleep missing
his moment of passing.
Now's my chance to
know what he thought
But do you think in a
coma?
I want to remember this.vi
Noise blends into a hammer
anvil the steel pounds
a Richter scale moment
notches incremental needle jumps.
A digital display spans digits
instantaneous the office
of the geo-siesmic event
in a fifteen minute of fame
overshadowed in catastrophic
currents.
Birth pangs of a new millennium genesis.
In the beginning was 9/11.
From that day forward
we died so the word could
live. Peace covered the land
with war until war forged
a new peace. War will win
and make peace earn it's right
to stay. The truth will die
so another truth can take its place.Messiah
No one is coming to save us
A prophecy pamphlet falls to the ground
"These are the words of One the I Am"
pamphlets fall from the sky
No one can read the dialect
Written in unknown tongues
No one cares to know its message
Pamphlets fall from the sky
The ground carpeted without
meaning.
Pamphlets fall from the sky.We need a new science
To turn a collective
unconsciousness into anarchist
uprising
A Science that rebels against
not caring to know the message
of pamphletsMass Hypnosis -- WAIT BE STILL
ALL OF YOU THERE -- LOOK AT THE
COIN HERE SEE IT SHINING
YOU ARE FOCUSING ON THE COIN
SLOWLY -- BREATHING- - SLOWLYviii
At the diary case
Kosinski had his agent on a lark
inject a liquid some
catalyzing trace to generate
interesting action in a novel.
Come to find a copy cat article
in the paper.
"We've got to stop giving people
these ideas.
We're all out of them, so
Nobody should be making
new ones up since we
can't come up with any.
'Out of the Box,' what's that
about.
Who came up with that idea?
Maybe the same creator of the
Messiah project.
No secrets no new ideas
That way we'll know when
someone comes up with
new stuff, we'll know where
they've been."ix
I wrote a new song after 9/11
It's about me writing a song
in 1984. The title is:
"You're Confusing Me With Somebody Else."
News Flash - Hidden Message in
"You're Confusing Me With Somebody Else."
The lyrics played backwards reveals the following message:
I am the Back Maskerson.
Your pamphlets are telling us
you are the sower of bad things
that we don't like.
Our heads are filled with too many
things already and we can't
process anymore thoughts.
Fools! To beat us you have to
give us no thoughts.Thus ends my mental excursion and I hope to
update this site regularly for the enjoyment of my
loyal readers. Thanks for your patience.
Posted 12:17 AMFriday, August 17, 2001
A Very Happy Belated Birthday, Brother Jim! My excursions on this ever expanding vision are slim and far between. No fault of my choosing, mostly scheduling and hour shortages. A Time Crisis -- If there could ever be an end to time, let me be on the front row with popcorn. ATC can probably be attributed to the prevailing cultural phenomena of all the rages: road, work, pancake house, you name it. Imagine time where it is ever abundant, all encompassing and always there when you need it. No reason for yelling at the kids, throwing tantrums because it's bedtime, having fights over the remote...there's still time! A wrinkle in the fabric of your day without starch. Since none of this has anything to do with heralding the fact that I can't even broadcast timely birthday greetings to my dear friendbro, peacelove mahn, I'll take my comments off the air now
.
Posted 1:25 AM
Saturday, July 28, 2001
Of all the things I've ever thought about, I would hope to be able to have no thoughts and just be able to see, as a video, only registering the essence. But alas, reality doesn't quite work that way. The Quest for the unattainable, Icarus and all the others, statistics in mythological proportions.
Posted 9:53 AM
Tuesday, July 24, 2001
Good adhesives make great companions. My desk drawer has my favorite epoxy just in reach for the testy repairs that rushing will spoil. And the ceramic glue -Cat Head's Magic Mending- is in the utility room where I always return it after shattering times. Love the copy on the container: "Universal Space Age Adhesive - concentrated - BONDS ALMOST ANYTHING - BONDS Seals "
People are like glue. Some take a while to setup (epoxy) but if you're patient you end up with the strongest bond. Others are like the glue shtick. One shot deal and pssssh, where are they when you need them? I wonder what happened to the guy that had the heat resistant formula which would keep anything coated with the substance safe from extreme temperatures. The demonstration presented an egg coated with the secret compound being subjected to an acetylene welder's torch. Upon cracking open the egg you saw there was no damage, no egg salad to prepare.
Glue is one of the few items in my chaos I can put my finger on when I need it. If I could invent something I would relish discovering a homemade concoction with ingredients from the cupboard that would revolutionize one aspect of the culture in ways yet imagined. Hubris Home Style Hominy Mix™.
Posted 1:29 am
Monday, July 9, 2001
A Burning Bush, A Reconstructionist Cat, and OM
Daniel threw a pillow at Annie and the porcelain cookie jar cat head shattered on the tile. That was my project last week. Reminds me of the time my brother Sam (Dr. Lohr to you) and I were playing in our childhood home and ooops, I knocked the ceramic rooster onto the floor. It was just the experience I needed when trying to assemble the cat head. Sam was in elementary school at the time and wanted Mom to be sure to put in her will that he'd get the rooster. One recent Christmas the rooster was packaged and presented to Sam as a gift since Mom didn't put it in her will (I glued it back together back then before the folks came home). Then Sam returned the favor to his siblings at gift giving time with Mom's gall stones attached to a necklace (one for each of us). Epiphanies have a strange way of presenting themselves and yet stranger are the effects as viewed by onlookers or the uninitiated.
"You say it's your birthday....da da da da dah da..."
Posted 1:10 am
Tuesday, July 3, 2001
White Knuckling is Real Work in Certain Circles
Swimming with all kinds of divergent thoughts today due to my pushing the physical limitations of this human vehicle. While hauling construction debris and teetering on my favorite affliction, heat exhaustion, I kept my cool by remembering ideas about the world and my place in the overall scheme of things (Big Surprise). When placed in a stress not commonly experienced many connections can be resolved in the oneness of pain, and esotericism. My favorite proponent for such mindful meanderings remains to be Gurdjieff. Obstacles thwarted provide energy during the "self remembering process" even when the mechanical response would not be positive while standing in the face of adversity.
There's lots of stuff about this and one other author covers it from an angle which warrants study.
posted 4:43 PM
Monday, June 25, 2001
Here's a link to a story that's probably been adapted, extracted, and remodeled with many versions and incarnation cycles. Speaking of cycles, I swear I must have seen Grendel roaming the streets of NY City last week. While shunning the appearance of an off worlder, I realized I would need a Zen Master as my butler to live there, or be one myself, Zen Buddhist Master, that is. Yet if I would make any claims of status approaching hood-dom, I would be far from such appraisement. It is odd that such a center of promulgation for the various hood-doms: financial, educational, and cultural, evince hardly a sign to a "Joe" on the street, from my rarefied perspective.
Thursday, June 14, 2001
There has to be a way outta here! A massive force is required to escape the earth's gravitational field. One small step toward weightlessness I achieved today and it was not lost on my 3 year old "associate." Since Annie depends on the microwave for her warm milk, as she embraced her night time bottle this evening (way too old for a bottle), she said to me, "Thanks for fixing the Microwave." As the microwave stopped heating Annie's milk in the wee hours of yesterday, I could not idly bide my time, for warming milk the old fashion method cramped my REM state. A melted contact point the likes of the old fashion kind found in automotive distributors would separate me from achieving another REM moment (real soon). So the morning found me sanding the contact point in a safety switch, reconnecting the circuit board and controls, and so far I can't stop myself from making cups of hot water for my tea. What a pleasure to press the start button and the magic box hums as I've never heard it hum before. But the lightness of being came from that "three year old associate," Daniel's nemesis.
Tuesday, May 29, 2001
An excerpt from Lifesaver - still in progress...
I remembered the first time I saw Dr. Quinnlynn. He was sitting behind his desk nursing his goddamn pipe, acting as if I wasn't there. He'd ask me some inane question then take a long draw, smoke swirling around the lamp on his desk. I told him I had to get out of this place, that I didn't belong here. His expression became stern like a father who was about to reprimand his child. I pictured him as a cop about to give me a speeding ticket. It was then I started losing it.
"Let me see your license and registration," I thought I heard him say.
"I'm innocent!" I yelled.
"Come with me, Sim."
A cloud of smoke enveloped me. I jumped out of my chair and tried to escape down the hall. Two attendants restrained me and dragged me to the isolation room. I sobbed all night. They didn't even give me a blanket. The mattress reeked of piss. If I had known Nurse Gray then, maybe it would've been easier. The following morning I found a crayon on the floor. I began to write my autobiography on the wall.
I am the ape-man who created this room. In the beginning no one listened to me, why should they? We spoke a different language. They had ears but couldn't see, eyes but couldn't hear. And you better believe I'll not throw my pearls before you, pigs.....
The next day I was escorted to a van and taken to another building. I was given papers to sign, some sort of medical clearance. I was X-rayed and examined. I don't remember if Dr. Reynolds was there. It's all a haze now. I was being prepared for electroshock therapy.
I was lying on a table, feeling groggy from the medicine. A nurse stuffed my mouth with gauze. Then Dr. Quinnlynn entered with a syringe. He injected a brown liquid into my arm. I looked behind my head and saw wires connected to an instrument panel with knobs and switches. I felt the nurse rub Vaseline on my temples. She was holding two electrodes with insulated handles. The room was spinning when I blacked-out. In my unconsciousness I felt a jolt as my body convulsed.
The bowl of corn flakes appeared below my drooping head. I had just spooned another morsel. A song echoed in my mind.
"Sitting on a corn flake, waiting for the van to come."
I had forgotten the rest of the words, but it had something to do with a walrus. The music continued without the lyrics. Someone kept propping me up in the chair. I missed a few flakes in the bowl. I just couldn't seem to get them on the spoon. The van was waiting. I could practice spooning cereal the next session...
posted by David Lohr 11:34 PMSaturday, May 26, 2001
The blank screen and the flashing cursor. When fingers don't respond, hence vacant thoughts, they'd be better off pulling weeds or darning. And the six string has a layer of dust. Neglect is written all over her. My wooden mistress is such a shrew. Her jealousy is encompassing, for I only have a moment, that never comes, to offer her. She, in turn, withholds her muse from my empty repertoire. So I forego her rusty strings and vicious is the circle that entwines our silence. One of us must compromise and she has all the power!
posted by David Lohr 2:27 PMThursday, May 24, 2001
Backlash Whiplash Back splash
A Work In Progress. Thursday is my day for "punch-lists." If it weren't for Thursday, the monumental task would be too daunting and sloth would be king (even though I see the three toed variety rearing it's fuzzy head on the other days of the week).
posted by David Lohr 9:49 AMTuesday, May 22, 2001
Daniel and Annie at Mizner last week. Notice Annie's teddy. Not even an insurance policy could rectify a missing teddy. Teddy left behind spells catastrophe. Also see how Annie uses teddy's ear in a rosary sort of way. When I mended it I counted my lucky stars that my darning thread passed Annie's approval. What power she wields over me, a mere mortal. Daniel's another story, a sleep walking tradition passed on to another generation. He has a keen nose for any subterfuge a dad can concoct. But the great equalizer arrives: Annie his nemesis to keep him honest.
posted by David Lohr 12:40 AMMonday, May 21, 2001
Unshaven Diminishing Returns - All encapsulating, yet noninclusive - fragments of a known yet untapped resource - That "Old man Stream 'O' Consciousness" flowing when logic and proportion all but vanish.
At a seminar last week the speaker illustrated adding text to html tables with the "corporate mumbo jumbo tool." There should be a similar html tool that inserts the feeble poet's stab at emulating William Wordsworth.
The only thing lacking would be an ashtray crammed and a stench packaged and awaiting the experimental "Theatre Olfactory" - a throw back to the Huxley feely.
posted by David Lohr 1:18 AMSaturday, May 19, 2001
Sea Lice
Why did God create them? Why an enticing dip in the ocean ends up with unbearable consequences? I would gladly endure another five minutes in the emergency room as the doctor probes my wrist for an irretrievable shard of glass without local anesthesia than go another day dealing with the incessant scourge from the tantalizing surf. There's a moratorium on hole digging until August when sea lice subside. Then it's Edy, Frank, Gladys, Henry, Ivy, etc (hurricane season). Afterwards, it's Edy, Frank, Gladys, Henry, Ivy and all the other migratory transients that flee the north every winter. But Gurdjieff would say to thank those who offer me the opportunity to work on myself. And that they do!
posted by David Lohr 11:59 PMMonday, May 07, 2001
Today's an anniversary of sorts. Lifesaver is a fictionalized piece of that time in space. For publishing, it would require objective editing and repositioning. Looking back on the actual events I feel I have a "Double" and he was an experiment in a mind control "Lab."
posted by David Lohr 6:46 AMWednesday, May 02, 2001
The arcane and magnificent, sublime and fastidious, yet mild and unobtrusive. Almost correct in the insight of - I can't see its ubiquity for the stupidity. Beyond words, yes, he's gone mad. The box of scraps of paper and mementoes, newspaper clippings, negatives, cassettes, that reside under my desk should be:
(choose one)
1 Digitized
2 Destroyed
3 All of the Above
4 None of the Above
5 Remove me from the list
And don't you just love the email with the link to remove that is not deliverable. If ever I sent an email, world, and it was in any fashion offensive or evoked undesirable Pavlov reflexes, I am truly sorry for the intrusion. But if the message made anyone's day just a little bit brighter or slightly enhanced a mere second of one's otherwise uneventful life - mail me a letter. And in that letter you place two broom straws, a teaspoon of sugar, and a teaspoon of salt. And also send two stamps with your letter. You too can have your name in my Gold Bible.
posted by David Lohr 1:11 AMThursday, April 26, 2001
My biggest brother thought I should be a minister when he observed my behavior during the aftermath of our father's transition. Transition being the operative word as opposed to death. Death is too final a word and probably not an accurate term regarding the natural order of events upon not breathing and having a pulse. Life goes on and when Buddy said I should don the liturgy and take on the clergy, I thought, "He might have something there." But my lazy self and undisciplined nature would not fare in the regimen and strictures in the preparatory phase of the "Calling." I found a solution to the high and esteemed office my brother off-handedly suggested.
I should be a Butler. The pay's not as good but the duties and proscriptions are almost equivalent. Wearing uncomfortable outfits. Telling people what they need to hear. Socializing with people you would never be with otherwise. Being privy to personal misfortunes and lending a consoling ear. I would like to believe it would have been much easier to have gone the other route performing ministries and such. But my religion wouldn't let me - you know being a Member of the Universe and all that. And butlering is my after hours' gig - after all. Maybe the new millennium will advance the art in ways unknown to the status of talk show pundit expert. Picture the following happening in realtime.....
SCENE l - Talk Show Host
Let's delve into the mind of the eye on the scene and discover the real news of this report. What's your take on this recent development, Sir Mix A Butler?
Butler At Large
My experience of the matter has all the trappings of what you can call feigned indifference. The populace has been delusional as documented in the polling numbers. Just observe the trend of every media instrument replicating the same report and postulating on the same data. I mean, it's as Chris Rock would say, "Damn!"
NEWS FLASH
White House establishes new counsel to the President - BUTLER PUNDIT.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Forget Strategery - It's Butlerteering
posted by David Lohr 12:09 AMWednesday, April 18, 2001
About the time I met "Styrofoam Lady," I had a "Gross Encounter of the Nerd Kind." It would not have been too distressing on our first date, but as I saw the luminescence leaving the car I was tail gating, it was occupied by an "Absent People." The thought crossed my mind, wrangling with the steering wheel avoiding "An Averted Overload," that, "This Must Be a Dream." What other explanation would account for the uniformity at the salon where I got a "Spacial Facial." It didn't occur to me the stylists all looked the same - yes another "Clone." So while all this was going on in my head during the dream I just realized I was having as I was dodging a driverless vehicle, my porous escort was just "Another Holdout." I could hear my own words echoing down the corridors of my vain campaigns, "She's Not Your Mother." Rarified beyond words, my "Electric Desire" was an "Embryonic Messenger" trying to tear itself from my vocal chords. A feeble attempt to scream arose; I heard a knock. Coming to, I opened the door. My "Landlord" said my eviction notice was in my "Post Office Box."
Excerpts of Phantom Limb
posted by David Lohr 2:49 AMMonday, April 16, 2001
I am so predictable. You would think I'd remember how a dark cloud hovers over my head when I have a sick PC in the house. Almost like a child, the effect a non booting piece of hardware has. Yet, every time the machine has a glitch or the ftp doesn't upload, here comes that cloud. Now that this has presented itself as a regular behavioral pattern, and I am acknowledging its hold on me, one would think I should be a candidate for a self-help group. I haven't seen any particular twelve step programs addressing this (but being in a solid state of denial, how could I?). If any one knows of an online site, news group, or phone listing purporting to offer help for people like me, please email.
Today the dark cloud has been vanquished, but only for today. Next project to tempt the dark clouds of fate - hard drive geometry.
posted by David Lohr 2:01 PMTuesday, April 10, 2001
If you don't write stuff down you can lose it and it is gone forever. But when you write stuff down and give your only copy to a theater group who isn't impressed, it really hurts. The time was simpler then and looking back through the perspective of a somewhat sane vista, the creator's workshop was ablaze with the flurry of a work only a few had an opportunity to observe. That's how myths and legends originate.
Chris Worley, one of the weirdest guys in my college dorm, befriended me after our "one year wonder." I have Chris to thank for my stint as a Holiday Inn Bellman, a short lived episode in the phase of the college dropout blues. We rented an old house next. It was falling down all around us even as we tried to use paint to hold it up. The first time Chris showed me the place, I was so gullible as he convinced me the stains on the bathroom ceiling were from a homicide. As I inspected the color of the markings it was obvious that the water closet had erupted when the water was turned on after sitting dormant.
Chris wanted to be Elton John. One day I was listening to him practice when I said, "What about doing a rock opera?" He replied, "The life of a person, say you...?" And the following are the lost fragments of that moment in time - we would be rock stars, the rest of the material is lost. But the music is in my head, and if I had the patience, I'd peck away at my sequencer and arrange the melodies we created. The wood stove in the living room, and the awful smokey antique burner with a stove pipe out the window in the back room - these smells and images probably kept the fragments I remembered intact. I'll never forget the day I watched Chris chasing the hen trying to rustle up dinner. Little did we know that the chase made the meat very tough. The lyrics of "A Life of A Person, Say You."
l.
The life of a person say you
can we really know what is true
all those rumors we heard
you left without a word
is it really that important
you might miss your appointment
with the doctor who's in charge of your sanity
but who's in charge of his
ll.
Over there upon the river
I am here riding on a zephyr
see the wind whip my hair
I'm standing high in the air
losing sight of this world
my wings are unfurled against the dawn's bright greeting
today is the day the beginning of tomorrow
all is reborn at the sun's first glimmer
see the wind whip my hair
I'm standing high in the air
losing sight of this world
my wings are unfurled against the dawn's bright greeting
lll.
They found you Sunday in the park
bare skinned you made just one remark
to the questions about the reasons you came this way
will they ever understand what you said of the mighty plan
and how you were lifted above this earthly realm
lV.
See me tomorrow then go on your own
take some time to think and be alone
I'm sure you find some things that never entered your mind
any day tomorrow just any day
go out of your way to see tomorrow
any day
Catch a shooting star in your rocking chair
you really didn't have to go anywhere
See me tomorrow and I'll be there
any day tomorrow just any day
go out of your way to see tomorrow
any day
They came to see me tomorrow yesterday
now you know tomorrow's so far away
in fact it's just a step from yesterday
any day tomorrow just any day
go out of your way to see tomorrow
any day
V.
Got to get out of here
can't stay too long in here
I hope they really care
and let me go and let me go and let me go free
Vl.
We know that we're as sane as you
our diagnosis must be true
but still you're in your self created limbo
we give you 200 milligrams
still these pills can't put you down
maybe you'll be around to see tomorrow
Vll.
You've got to be in restraints
we've seen you in the hall
playing havoc with the patients drawing on the wall
the medicine you're taking is not helping you at all
tie him down
give him a pill
hook up the machine
hook up the machine
with your bizarre behavior
the doctor is in favor
of giving you a treatment to erase your mind
count them on your fingers
seven shocks they'll barely linger
in your repressed unconscious for quite some time
Vlll.
Over there upon a river I am here riding on a zephyr
lX.
I like to fly like I soar in my dream
a running river takes my mind so far away
distant meadows off an old dirt road
falling leaves ring around the trees
autumn fills the air
time to learn cash to burn now it's back to school
X.
Grooving down Hillsborough Avenue
its Friday night and my classes are through
I'll bop on in at the hamburger hut
you can get two burgers for under a buck
its Friday party night tonight
I keep in touch with the campus scene
streaking's coming in man it's really the thing
I saw a friend trucking down my hall
wearing combat boots and that was all
the campus scene it's hip it's hip it's hip
It's hard to score with a chick these days
who's into the disco dancing craze
you have to wear duds that are really slick
platform boots and khaki double knits
it's hard to be the one so slick
End
2nd Semester in another installment....
posted by David Lohr 1:00 AMWednesday, April 04, 2001
Finally one clear thought and it took all this time and effort to get to it. Millions of bygone brain cells, enough financial resources to send a candidate through med school, and a hardy collection of humiliation to spice up any summer's scandal. The value of one clear thought can be a nebulous quality impossible to quantify. One clear thought could mean the difference between life or death. Contracting a terminal illness could be averted by one clear thought. One clear thought experienced simultaneously world-wide could put the bodhisattva out of business, along with a good portion of automotive, health care, legal, educational, political, and financial concerns. Who could be against one clear thought? No one. It is just too simple to attain and too difficult to see. As clear as a thought should be, yet where is that one clear thought? ...What?
posted by David Lohr 1:22 AMTuesday, April 03, 2001
The story line is worn but with a new wrinkle, so goes the "... there's nothing new under the sun..." genre. Here goes...
A TREATMENT with apologies to Washington Irving and Ambrose Bierce.
The Jacuzzi's drone with the light's reflection on the rushing water sends our character into an altered state of awareness. These states have been intermittent over the years: once in elementary school when our character ran through a sliding glass door, again in high school after researching Robert Monroe's, Journeys Out of the Body, and the latest occurrence took our character to the mental ward undergoing ECT.
BACK Story: Our character questions reality; has lucid dreams of unknown places; waking dreams of people that were acquaintances in other lives; experiences moments of prescience and escapes calamities narrowly, usually within the last second before a piano crushes or an oak crumbles. Upon seeing a drowning victim and observing the yellow blue hues on the victim's body arising during the failed resuscitation, the stage is set for our character's pursuit of the "unexplainable."
BACK at the Jacuzzi: The water cools and our character gets out and notices the lights are off. Tries to turn them on to no avail. Dries and steps out - meanwhile the room has changed. Greying paint, creeping vines along the floor and other signs of an aging and abandoned house.
TO THE POINT: In line with the above mentioned authors: Our character's action occurs but only in his mind (sorry Mr. Bierce) with the extended passage of time after such a long hibernation (sorry Mr. Irving). Our character goes about trying to retrace what has happened. Discovers it has been over many decades and tries to assess the state of the world - enter Swiftitious satire. A social, global, epicurean, tangent which makes up the majority of the film for the entertainment aspect.
ENDING: Maybe a month passes and our character has been befriended by all sorts of personalities, entertainers, morning show icons, radio, film, recording artists, the whole gamut. We see him losing all his previous interests [back story] and going full tilt into hedonism. At a producer's mansion our character is discussing the new Industry Created around his advent from the past. CAMERA zooms to the Jacuzzi as our character enters - water swirling, droning motor. CLOSEUP of our character's ear. Microscopic closeup of a drop of blood issuing from his ear.
AN aneurysmic end to a nihilistic character - but that was our character during the Ambrose Bierce bit. The End.
all rights reserved until someone else reserves them [copyright © 2001]
posted by David Lohr 1:11 AMThursday, March 29, 2001
The title Phantom Limb was my so called stage name for the time I aspired to open mikes and the like. I remember when the name came to me. Riding on Highway 64 down to Cashiers coming from Satulah Mountain ( job site in Highlands [background image]) , my comrade, Don Stephens, and a few other fellow carpenters, headed back to the lowlands after another perilous day on that Jim Fox creation (background image - again). As it happened, Don always stirred that area of my untapped resources and prompted all sorts of weird and unusual thoughts. He turned me on to Cockpit and later Blind Date, of all things. So if you know the novels, 'nuff said on where Don's head may or may not be. At any rate, it is always refreshing to revisit the moment in the memories when these pivotal thoughts occur. What if I could visit the moment in the present when a fresh and new thought is actually occurring. Now that would be novel. A unique momentous occasion for me to have a new pivotal thought after all this time.
But after Phantom Limb ran its course, I wanted to change it to Phantom Mohammed. Just the alliteration, the quick expulsion of the run on syllables, accenting the "m," that's what attracted me to the name. But it never caught on. So all you AR folks, now's your chance.You can reach me at my new gig at PC 911. I will revisit travels with Don; I affectionately called him, "Dom," especially when he needed to be distracted. But that was usually his modi operandi anyway, terminally distracted. Others referred to him as "Dough boy," since he bore some resemblance to the Pillsbury icon. The lexicon we have accumulated could offer the budding psychology buffs many dissertations and talk show appearances.
posted by David Lohr 1:23 AMWednesday, March 21, 2001
I used to write letters instead of talking on the phone. Now I do neither. The etymology of how nouns and adjectives transform into verbs epitomizes the rapid evolution of the collective unconscious. Simile and I frown, like the time Dr. Ratton told me it might be impacted but his air nozzle impacted my tongue, ouch. But he had the best nitrous in town. That's one of those oxymorons, "...evolution of the collective unconscious."
At the post office today they didn't have any one cent stamps. Truly a penny holding up a dime. So I stood behind my neighbor in line. A few weeks ago the House For Sale sign goes up in his front yard across the street. I say to him as I approach, his back to me, "So, you're moving your house?" Clearly an obtuse question. It's not being moved, I'm referring to the prospects of potential buyers. My neighbor hardly turns his head to my question and makes an almost imperceptible sound. I stand quiet. End of conversation. Several years ago he told me not to wave at him, even. It's almost like the social issues of the day. A blaring symbol of the things that need to be fixed across the street. I can't fix it. No one can.
My neighbor hounded me to replace his front door. I had done a few other things for him in the past, the token yard appliance loan; wind blown lamp post repair; maybe some other things, but who's counting. The door project I thought was successful, yet there wasn't a discussion of the peculiar situation of his rock facade and how it intersects the entrance sidelights. Words spoken can not be retrieved and manipulated after they've hit their mark. Whatever my words might have created that day, they have been the most effective words I have ever uttered. Their effect will follow him to the grave, sorry to say. That's his choice.
When I was growing up the liturgy from the church service still echoes in my brain. "We have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that they turn from their way and live." Potent stuff for kids. The house across the street with its inhabitants, as far as all appearances, might just as well be in Columbus or Cincinnati. Why, the folks up in Cashiers, NC, my old stomping grounds, would throw up their hand as you passed them on the two lane cliffhanger highways. I even caught myself once waving at a dog on the roadside. Dog didn't have a clue I was waving at him. Same with my neighbor. No clue. What's the purpose of life, anyway? Hegel , what would you say of the Post Office one cent stamp purchaser who cannot wave at, or even evince a guttural from his neighbor standing in line?
posted by David Lohr 12:38 AMTuesday, March 20, 2001
It's not that the past week was uneventful but the standards we place on this content requires the time and thought for nimble words. My niece will be on the new VH1 show, "Name That Video." She didn't win the car, sorry to blow it for you. It would be a hardship if she did since you have to come up with quite a chunk of change to pay the taxes. Don't get me started. Yeah, right, "Give the money back to the people." What about, "Keep the money, and don't subterfuge us with higher rates on fuel, electricity, chocolate, and mayonnaise." Speaking of higher rates, I need to go up on mine, but who will be the beneficiaries? A vicious circle will ensue, and I can hear the voices, "Mark my words." Where did that quote originate?
Just a note for anyone who wonders why such a late night habit of posting these divergent meanderings. I have read that sleep depravation stimulates the production of growth hormones, which in turn assist in longevity. Now you know my secret. My career is making a shift and to see where it is moving you can check out the PC Nine 11 site. It's a feeble attempt at the console of life's ever changing nomadic cycles. I've just packed up my yurt, heading for the info highway - Let not my dust cloud anyone's vision. Left the goats to run wild. Sounds like that old Bob Dylan refrain, "If dogs run free." Then I shall surf the swamp of time.
posted by David Lohr 2:49 AMMonday, March 12, 2001
My brother's birthday message today, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, wave on Bro Jim. You hit the nail on the head, mahn! Thanks....
Dear David,
I hope you're having a verry happy day. I hear its warm down south so I hope you got out and enjoyed the beautiful day. I was gonna call you, but I thought I would do that later so as not to interrupt your party. Party on,bro. On checking out your site [sight] it seems that your head is full of so much stuff that it must be begging to get out. I'm glad you have an outlet or else you might POP! Remember that you are the brains of this crowd,so dont stop thinking. I can remember lots of the details,but you paint such a lovely picture!!!! I miss having you around with me to talk to, to help me with my projects, to advise me with my LIFE, to fix my broken stuff, to go out in the woods and explore the wonders of nature, to sing the songs of LIFE and the pain and joys it can bring ,to be next to me and I know you are there if I need you, cause I'll always need you to be my brother, and more importantly to be my friend. So I go on and on. I'm getting a good lesson at typing, but about a B+ on technique,and I dont know what Mrs. Lewis or, even Mildred Ann, would think of my rambling essay [25 words or less) of, "Why I love my brother even though he bit me hit me bugged me clung to me had to change his diaper destroyed my personal property couldn't find the key had to build the wall couldn't tote that big ol' watemelon didn,t fall in that hole watch out for that hole I love my Box and the Universe is who I am." I used to think I was my brother's keeper but then I realized that I am my brother and we are all one and the wheel just keeps on a 'spinning no matter how much spit it gets. So I say, "keep spitting and keep spinning, or twirling if you prefer." So dear David, I hope you have a Happy Birthday!! I'll give you a call soon.
word out, Peace BRO!
Jim
posted by David Lohr 11:18 PMThursday, March 08, 2001
I was sitting in a meeting the other day and happened to notice my gaze focusing on the bottom of my club soda bottle. There was a circle of light and it caught my attention only for an instance. Yet in that moment I remembered the light from days past when the peculiar shape and glimmer drew my attention away from the things at hand. Maybe it was the light over the dentist as I was getting my wisdom tooth extracted and nitrous was whistling in my nostrils. Or the surgeon's light as I was being prepared for a tonsillectomy. It couldn't have been the afterglow image of looking into the arc light I attempted to fabricate using carbon rods from dead D batteries, an army helmet, and direct A/C connection. Funny how the urgency of the hurried moment melts into diverging memories if given the opportunity. Later that afternoon, I was listening to Traffic and Hot Rats; as I was driving I had a parallel experience. Auditory triggers which resonate memories similar to my experience with gazing into the club soda bottle, have a typical effect on my spinal column (chakras), which begin at the base and run up the vertebrae. If I try to initiate the effect, to generate the spinal surge, I am not successful. It arises involuntarily and unexpectedly. To operate from that place of focus without attachment to the particular "things at hand," and be totally present, available to perform or act as needed, is the epitome of being in the moment. String enough of these moments together and time becomes timeless. Being mindful of the vast timeless times had, time loses its tenacious hold on me, but only if I have a moment to stare at the light coming through my club soda bottle.
posted by David Lohr 11:42 PMMonday, March 05, 2001
I found this watercolor my son did and it bears a close resemblance to a character out of Dune. Broke a mirror today; where in the world did the concept of seven years of bad luck originate? Funny how I have a thought and shortly afterwards, I either see a reference to it on the web or in the news. Case in point, I was remembering how Jerzy Kosinski ended his life and saw it referenced a few days later. These occurences happen regularly and I wonder, "What does it mean?"
posted by David Lohr 3:08 PMSaturday, March 03, 2001
Up against the encumbrances of putting symbols together to make sense. "Why back in the old days we just looked at each other and knew ... like mind reading. And if the minds didn't meld we'd eyeball extra hard and use a little trick from back before we (us as a people) forgot." I don't recall the trick but maybe Velikovsky could shed some light on this. Although, that brings to mind a dream from the childhood I thought I remembered, as opposed to the real childhood I forgot. Which one to choose? No choice, as logic prevails the later would not be reportable. At this time it really doesn't matter. Oh no, here are these words again trying to make some more sense. The dream, ah, yes. I was dreaming I had awakened in the night and went to look out my window. The night sky was ablaze with planets and stars 10 times their original size. It was as if I could reach out and touch Saturn's rings but the initial sensation was horrific visceral trepidation. Which brings me back to Velikovsky. Quite an interesting study how the human race having survived celestial catastrophe attempted to deal with the trauma. What is my trauma that bars early memories? Maybe I just wasn't paying attention. I'll end on this instrumental titled, When Will We Find Our Time , I recorded using my favorite sequencer, Power Tracks.
posted by David Lohr 2:43 AMThursday, March 01, 2001
Trying to be three places at once when you're not anywhere at all. Or, how about this potent country title -
Looking for someone to run away from.
posted by David Lohr 11:20 PM
Adding what could be the cucumber de jour, the last vegetable photographed with Dad - a veritable/vegetable family portrait.
posted by David Lohr 1:24 AMWednesday, February 28, 2001
Isolated in a vacuum no longer connected to the real world, I'm in a BLoG, for God's sake.
posted by David Lohr 10:22 PM
There you go again with that silly reference to, "A Whole Lot of Digging Going On." This is for Jim and Sam.
posted by David Lohr 1:26 AMSaturday, February 24, 2001
Somewhere in this "Sad Tale" is a golden lining --- "How can this be?" -- Mustering all that's positive in my being, I am at a loss to find it. The following lyric is an appropriate commentary. I wrote it in the eighties and recently thought I was having a deja vu which actually turned out to be a coup d'etat.
Habeas Corpus Buried Underground (2.8M)
The jester is crying no one seems upset
His maiden has vanished from his TV set
Look for the news to find cryptic views
Of soldiers in arms or any god you can choose
All through the mission talk is going round
Whispers say the bishop can't be found
Last seen in a taxi destination unknown
Witnesses say he wasn't traveling alone
Habeas Corpus buried underground
Habeas Corpus no where to be found
Sharpening their axes grinding their teeth
Looking for a morsel something tender to eat
Circling over the promised land
Where vultures gather a carcass commands
The citadel is shadowed sanity revised
Clouds of dispersion cover microscopic lies
Under the spotlight the actor writes a play
Magnifying glasses aren't allowed on the stage
Habeas Corpus buried underground
Habeas Corpus no where to be found
No one has died there's not any pain
Though the accident was fatal the victim has no name
No charge of murder when the body can't be found
Habeas Corpus buried underground
Habeas Corpus buried underground
posted by David Lohr 1:03 AMTuesday, February 20, 2001
I had searched for the dimensional ratios of the Great Pyramid of Cheops. I gave up on it after a vague attempt. Shortly after that I met the architect who drew this plan. The project was a remodeling job which included a sky light on an older house converted into a chiropractor's office. I told the architect I had been trying to determine the ratios of the angles of the Great Pyramid. He said the plan was based on the Great Pyramid and gave me the copy. Pyramid energy at work helping me find its dimensional ratios. And here's a home kit for sharping razor blades or any dull thing.
posted by David Lohr 5:01 PM
Not too long ago I discovered this gem , where Peter Sinfield responds to/at Robert Fripp of King Crimson. So I jumped in with an email to Peter and he returned my banter with:
Dear David,
Well... I am mostly I think the erm, actual Peter sinfield.... ;-)
Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic worllets... ( now there is
an interesting typo) - wordy stuff to me. Don't try to hard to 'decode'
Lizard etc... Jon Green does a fine job. Often the 'run of the sounds'
and the ancient palette used are as important the meanings...often.
Whatever - enjoy! Life is too serius to be taken seriously. . . ..
Best wishes,
Peter.
Ps You may well enjoy Sid Smith's book which he should have as finished
as it could ever be soon... see his diary and stuff at... DGM
And Andrew Keelings diary
has reference to some of my current... schemes and dreams. *PjS*
Did I mention ... that was the real Peter Sinfield, you know.....
posted by David Lohr 1:31 PM
A bunny with a rocking chair training potty. Has that been patented yet? Here's a sketch titled, "conversation" , which has possibilities, but where? I call this, "primal head." The "dream" which I may have remembered at a very early age. Curmurring is sometimes a noise which arises from the depths of the intestines. That's probably what you may be hearing now.
posted by David Lohr 1:25 AMSunday, February 18, 2001
There I was thinking about the incident in Laura Huxley's, This Timeless Moment, [1992 Interview of Laura Huxley touching the topic]. I might have been reading, The Genius and The Goddess, at the time the incident crossed my mind. In that instance, I felt a singular indescribable feeling which was combined with the classic electric surge up the spine and hair tingling. I had the windows closed, the A/C was on - the room did not have any drafts. At that moment the closet door began opening with one reverberant squeeeeeeeeeek, only heard on sound effects recordings. The door moved ever so slightly. I jumped up from the bed and opened the closet to see the cause of the disturbance. On the linen shelf over the closet rod propped up was the booklet from the rock opera, Jesus Christ Superstar. If ever I had the sensation of goose pimples and antecedent spine tingling zingers, this was the zing that zinged. So?
Events such as these almost convince me that actually they are not exceptional, but rather the usual linear occurrences that are not perceived. How is it possible to tweak the receptors in the perceptual mechanism and tune in to these events? It could be as simple as looking at the back of your hands, as Don Juan instructed Carlos Castenanda to do as he became aware of dreaming while asleep. Only once was I able to lift my hands up and look at them while dreaming. As soon as I realized I was dreaming and consciously attempted to see my hands, my body lifted off the ground and I was flying. No frequent flyers with that deal.
Preoccupation with the notion of contacting the departed may become an impediment for looking at each moment with a fresh vision. Yet, having a cheering section on the astral sidelines isn't so bad.
posted by David Lohr 2:14 AMSaturday, February 17, 2001
I dug a hole once just to see how deep I could go. At about 6 feet I hit solid rock and didn't have any desire to dynamite. An in depth exercise in Sisyphus Field Work. Now my hole digging has evolved. The hole at Silver Run is replaced by a keyboard - with every word the space increases. If I go too far the sides might collapse and my pit will be my epitah. "Digging in 2001, Soil Net." "Cyber Hole." "Hole Diggers Anonymous." As my siblings say regularly, to remind me, "Watch out for that hole!" So that is the whole story, except for these song lyrics.
BLACK HOLE
Catch a black hole put it in your pocket save it for a rainy day
Watch a solar flare with your eye sockets as your eyes melt away
Subatomic particles dance across your table
Electromagnetic waves trying to say "Hello"
On the phone you're all alone
Or so you might believe
But in your unsuspecting glance there's a million galaxies
You say you have a soul somewhere inside you, you think you'll never fade away
But as you speak your tongue belies you the difference of night and day
Intergalactic travellers wait outside your trailer
Travelling a million light years just to say "Hello"
In the bath you don't hear them pass
They're outside your barren shell
Now they're gone look out your window see the spaceship's trail
Sunday morning comes drive down to the newsstand catch up on the weekly drama
The day flies past 'cause you live so fast you forgot to call your Mama
Monday morning coffee wakes you and you're ready
Walk into your office your secretary says "Hello"
You're still in a dream from Sunday's headlines anxiety ridden mind
Reach in your pocket for some antacid
The black hole was there all the time
A new dimension
Don't need to mention
You're in another stratosphere
posted by David Lohr 2:36 AMWednesday, February 14, 2001
If this prayer assisted me every time I needed it you would probably not be seeing this.
A Terse Writer's Prayer
Calling all the forces that
dwell and reside on
all seven planes and beyond
As above and so below
We beseech in our invocation
to the invisible realms
our desire for continuity.
May our thoughts reside
within our tangible grasp
ejecting themselves as they flash
while manifesting through
our pen as a dance
across paper. Amen.
If this doesn't crack you up... "Step slowly away from the jack hammer."
posted by David Lohr 12:48 AMMonday, February 12, 2001
There's much to say but so little time to say it. A lot of catching up to do with this site. Who I am, you already know that. But the background music that helps the observer understand just what's under the hood, what is the driving force behind all these words - that's my task at hand. For what it's worth, here are a few of my compositions that may provide some insight into this so-called "Member of the Universe." Hubris abounds but for a purpose.Ascent (4.12M) is something I threw together with layers and then unedited doodling on the synth. Nearly To Equal (1.8M) is actually the next composition Frigidaire (4.06M) rendered on a midi sequence played backwards. Frigidaire was written after I received a photo of a friend attempting a modeling stint in NY. She's now an attorney. Her picture was lost and she hasn't come to mind in ages, even after "a tuna fish sandwich."
In This World (3.4M) was written in 20 minutes after I attended my grandmother's funeral sometime in '87. She survived my father by almost two years.
posted by David Lohr 1:23 AMSaturday, February 10, 2001
As time passes it is becoming more evident that the more I think I know the more I don't know. Give Aldous Huxley a listen for an interesting talk on "New Behavioral Controls." Thanks to the folks at Blogger, for which this is made possible.
posted by David Lohr 10:56 PM