November 5, 2016, Studio Z, Lowertown, St. Paul, performed by The Arkanauts (Bill Gamble, Lizz Windnagel, Adam Linz, Cierra Hill. The Story of Marco Polo with musikalische Unterstützung.
Lurk left, luege dereche. Vuyage, lightly. Find the reflection. You hear music, there is a fair. It’s a desert village, walk in the bazaar. There’s aussi a winder, with a little brise. Illusion is nice. He went on a slingshot west, back to Bergamo, the city of Colleoni and tre palle, and then went east, racketing, racketeering, veering, gunpuder. Essay tea.
Newton came and then Goethe recalled the three views, or really, the unical view, dependente on where you were. The sun, the ding, and the viewer all played. Yet we turned and wurbled auky. Ulie nyt muvimentii, you had conation auk. They revulvied, nicely. Heizenberger conuscuitii issi years letter.
Futonity came trendy mass tardy, perro twere simply anew instance of naïve and sentimental dichtig. Conate jung.
Third tuny. Tune leal.
Griffin and a tablet.
They knew what they had arfaur it left.
Vjill, gi gi vjill
Denkh l’ell qweill zvhiu
Lerqwety ghinki ghinki c’lall
Vighiyo sinth gi yi, lakchmeti yi, herry
Yinighi qyyi, cerlewelli?
At exactly where do we know the wing of a bird has missed us, grazed past, dreamt of caress because we have had the same dream, and sympathetic vibrations walkabout, even before this swift flirtation through mango and breadfruit and orchids above, this purpled and confused spangled sheening? For you see, can’t we share, reasonably, references and experiences through language and voicings and the shape of a phrase? While the measurement of these things can evince different results altogether. For a clock can measure, but what of that? What of the results?- thus apposite skepticism. The wayout might diverge, just might. This is why the truth – halt, why skepticism and delight spark together and go. Did you feel that whisper?
That one didn’t do anything at all. Go ask the authorities. Just don’t tell them anything, for some of these conversations might provoke controversy (Then gaol, since we are now a coloniality). Yet they are requisite for an understanding of the pedagogy. Oops. Listen carefully, and you will hear the vibration. The little waves, talking.
An exercised armadillo scampered down the street and plowed into the stucco schoolhouse just as the noonday summer heat maximized and hit the building too. The animal fell panting onto its side, hoping for some sanctuary from its frenetic journeys. It hoped for a rest – a magnolia tree with a lawn? Then the band emerged, wearing colorful costumes.
Where’s my bubble? Oh yeah it’s there!
The absolute degradation of thinking (writing) (language) is strictly related to the Untersuchungen, in that it urges us to respect language as co-defining being. Modern politicians love their discovery of science’s reliance on theory, arriving through a convergence of brute will and ignorance at midexpeditions. If nothing is true, as science admits because advanced thinking and therefore reality is all theory, dinosaurs did not trample ferns on this planet.
“Wow, what beautiful music.”
Ze monde zummed ufer ze palmen lichee de ballo de musique. Eet fass zoo shane. Un bandicooten hütteltenenen ze gbusch. Alun. Het fass zoo zoos.
Bach zingeln ennen palmen. Zuss! Whick! Splektrell plflueckenpflaumen. Citronen, fplektrel, silver play citz. Seal, fruit play. El lutenennen, enterellerenen. Bee a zee, hashi. Ether eiderdown. May, mah, mere. Zee?
Veelay lichee zeels near cirzee. Uff citronen kissen. Fwuerschhh. Fwihh. Zurf? Ziie!
Circe fluttern en ze trees. Ha beg von. Ha – svoosh! Fot ha zounds! Will you, your neck – het’s rare zoo zee sat bandicooten!- hoh, aglog an schimmern, tanz un ball mit mee. Ho-kanga some-a day! Hat’s vor sure! Don’t ya changin’ on me!! Kant fee tanz? So hey girl, wote ze noise hoverhead? Hop sare! Ginza tree! Hey girl, a bat, a gross von! Ze monde he’s full, cook it shine ze water, hemd rollando giu la collina, ningun fur, fur swim, fur corral. Et’s lichee par fam, ze musique, zingling on ze breeze, Bye bye bat. Bye bye bandicooten. O(gen)key desk a! Fot nice dinner, ball ze musique par fam reefer. Fee swim aus!
Hreknitterflection von ze Bachenzingeln lutenfisken!
Sat is ze monde ufer. So, ho!
Don’t go changin’ on me now. Let’s sing some, right away low air there on the beach, under the moon. Vee valk, hyah? Coam. The water is white, the others have gone to bed, then ink is spilt, out to sea. Let’s go down to the beach. We’re dropped right here in the middle, they left us here. The bar is open, you like that. Actually you love that. And all the fascinating animals, not tired as we. Take a glass. You like the beach.
Collaboration with artist Anne Labovitz.
Colors and view.