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Part two of conversation with Bill Morrison, on the dark life of Bill’s dreams, Freud on daytime dreaming, Freud’s fiction-writing, the angles of ourselves, the mathematical quotient of the universe, the supreme power of Is, the Great Beyond, Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” Bill’s Christianity of horseshit, Moses & Mohammed, update on Jasun’s search, why everything is metaphor, the literal devil, the war between light & darkness, the journey of zero distance, Buddha under the tree, letting go of self-reflective identity, facing non-existence, the absurdity of the quest, Bill on 9/11 & the CIA, humanity’s doom, creating a people’s Utopia, giving up hope, Bill on aging, losing short-term memory, the upside of aging, losing one’s juices, moving closer to death, a world without Bill, leaving it all behind, envisioning death, that which does not recognize death, what happens to identity, the natural age of enlightenment, letting go of the need for control, the not-value of control.
Songs: “El Mariachi” & “Monkey Said,” by The Freak Fandango Orchestra; “Flanagan’s Song,” by Robyn Hitchcock.
I ran across this sentence in a music review today:
“Gideon Wolf’s new record, Near Dark, is a deep, semi-abstract journey through a liminal landscape, voice and electronics leading the way.”
Making the author the second person I know of who uses the word ‘liminal’ and me thinking that you are making your influence on the world of ideas seen
“Gideon Wolf’s new album lives in the headlights on that empty road, sweeping the distant violence at high speed. A soundtrack to the escape from a Ballardian dystopia.”
He’s not on FMA, so his music will not be gracing this podcast.
Near Dark = best vampire movie of all time?
I think the world of ideas unseen is making its influence on me. Which is better.
Liminist Old Fool
Hear me! No don’t! There is something wrong with this fellow I think. This old man. I am appalled for being him. Stopped me in my tracks, slowed me down for a few days, certainly from aggrandizing in any way. Almost anyway. It’s excruciating! To listen to this! This Auticulture Jasun Horsley podcast. It’s taken me near two weeks to get to this point of Comment to where I can face myself. Oh, I functioned okay and the horror has faded as the days go by but I know this, I got problems. I am fractured. (What have you learned, Bill? Old Age? Anything special, different now, you being so near . . . ) Something’s happened to me. I didn’t realize it got this bad. Ask me about something but I can’t talk and put together sentences start to finish to complete the sense. (What? Dying without pain, that is what I hope) Something has happened to me along the way. Slushing my words.
Outside of first off going in, I am only C plus graded, for a fact. I got the transcript. I know, I know I over drank, but that’s been so long ago. The acid long time ago too. Not that much I don’t think . . . course the Weed. But other folks done the routine I done. Much the same forewarned ingestions intended for shifts off routine to an alternative. Others even more so, and they sound okay. Course what do I know? The shape I am in. I listen to myself here podcast-wise, what am I talking about? Laurel Canyon? Los Angeles California USA! Enclave of 60’s big hit musicians CIA trained? Ludicrous, man. I know. I lived there! Nobodly like that the 3 times off and on I lived up there. No ma’am! For damn sure.
(To be continued)
After all the public exposure only now does Hamlet balk at being a fool? (Or do i mean the fool balk at not being Hamlet?)
i take this as a warming reminder of how unjustly hard we can be on ourselves, and how much that hardness distorts the truth.
Not “Liminist”, that’s ‘Liminalist’ for crying-out-loud. Although I do like the sound . . .
Liminalist Old Fool (continued)
In addition to near incomprehensible I am dissonant. Grating to listen to. I go on and on as if I am saying something, in an orderly manner, important, apparently convinced I am qualified and doing just fine. Oblivious. What fun! Bloviating into blowhard. Like maybe I have a right to be this way because I have thought this whole thing thru, the subject, liminality, betcha!
Ambivalence, whew. Boy, I live it! On the edge, say what? No, no, yes. Safety first, stay cool yet fueled agitated. After all, what is more obvious to follow but into-existence principle yin/yang abrasively plural yet singular? One. What more naturally natural? Apostrophe quote fishes separate bulb heads fit motivate sperm flagellate tails perpetuating opposite the same as heaven penetrating earth alive til death do us part eh. Teardrops weeping forward in reverse, soft easy curves either way, sorrow and joy passing by bitter sweet becoming each other. Sure. Thus that and all this and out of water I swims the run. So, come on. Give me a break! I know what I am talking about, listen up! (Talking louder than necessary too. Thank God for music interludes)
I am an annoying person. No, I hear it! Oh, I knew I could be this way, sound like somebody I would never in a lifetime want to be. On the contrary. Slicking it on by. Someone to trust to do what is best for me for the most part but don’t expect that much in return except a pretty easy life. Strong to my oath self-for-self verdict, live it my way, for me, that’s about it. Okay. Oh, and getting comfortable as I can be considering. Accepting graciously somewhat reluctantly my limits. After all I live and I observe, compare to others, and there is the mirror. But this, this bad, no. This man is in trouble. Oh, I am not shocked, I’ve been around with myself a long time after all. And half-way honest at least. Most of the time. Whew! But give me a break! So long as I don’t take for granted life itself, glory be, and exploit every weakness like it can be a strength like I been doing, there is hope for self respect in the future. After all, more than just flashes I have had concentrated observations, prolonged. Obsessed as much as curious, it’s a cross.
Hearing and seeing me as star in my own precious feature clip plots is rough. Fascinations and sudden incredible revelations. “Gosh. That is me”. Pee-yew. Well, what do I expect but the worst? Absorbing exotic brain kills combined with a problem anyway. But now that I realize it is really, that it is absolutely true with no question about it, I am face to face with how can I any longer deny enuf of it altogether? Living in denial gives me a fool’s notion reason to keep on going. Off and on even especially enjoying, smile and a hearty laugh. In any event now it must apply, this absolute final understanding. I am if not one already nearly a boor.
I’ve got to come to terms here. I am not sure what that means though so late in the game. (I am dying–closer) I am not going to change, not really, change what after all? I could. For one thing, talk in short clips from now on. Yeses and nos. Nod, shake my head. Yup. Swell. Nope. Okay. And go on about my business. No, I don’t need help. I am taking care of myself okay. Pay the rent. My health is okay. I got a Smart TV.
pee-yew? surely you jest my good balloon man. to think i’ve been writing pee-euw all these years.
i swear, i hear you. and i couldn’t do it for the same reasons, exact reasons you list.
very jarring, an awful lot like living and never once seeing your own reflection until you’re 50, then- whoops- there you is! i couldn’t do it, i mean i could, but i would close my eyes and not listen.
haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.
if only you heard what we see. wait, i feel a song coming on.
Hark! do you hear what i see…
a ball, an orb, it’s balloon man in the west…
Respect I think I deserve at the time but not getting any. If I ever wondered, and I have, now I know for absolute sure the reason why. Just listen what I am saying! How I say it. You know? 9/11? The way those buildings went down? Imploded like a demolition site. But I swear, I am really better than this. That topic doesn’t choice well to show brains working for marketplace advantage politically correct, selective and cautious. Granted but it’s not the subject, it’s the bombast, the tone, this obstreperous fellow. Now, who I AM really? I imagine, picture myself, a cool enuf fellow when left to his own devices, not challenged that much to prove anything, put in stress. I figure I know a lot about what’s what far as my little world is concerned, and relatively coherant about it. But this podcast chap, fractured virtually silly, he has little relatlonship to me, and, even though I am whom is behind him, I will not, not with the former passion anyway, support or promote this pompous pretender, to what? An empty throne anyway, never nobody existed wanted or had.
I wish all my cohorts/co-hosts would dissect themselves post-show like this. It would be a real blast.
That would be interesting, to witness the biography behind spoken declarations. Then if we wished we could apply the material to the person evaluating themselves giving resume. With me, although it is a light struggle sometimes, I take the work for what it is. Best example why I look at the finished product AS IS coming from say a dysfunctional person in my veiw of their actual life, is when my Father one time when we were talking movies revealed he didn’t like Charlie Chaplan because he was a ‘communist’ and a cradle robber. Refering to his taste in young women and on accusation of fathering a child of a teenager later disproved. I knew Chaplin and his work long before I knew who he was other than his films. And I knew I liked Chaplin and that’s all there was to it. That that came first obviously, so which comes first, the work or the person behind it was answered for me for all time. The work. Funny thing talking about it now, my Father’s bias, I never did ask him if he liked Chaplin’s films. I simply presumed all these years that he did not. But I am not sure of that. And now it is much too late to ever find out.
The person behind it, the composition, the music, yes, some insight as to reasons for their directions. using this ‘tool’ and that, and their finished conclusions would be hard not to make. But likely it, the intensity to tell on themselves, Auticulture Podcast People, how they all interpret themselves from feedback hearing themselves communicate outloud like they did for Jasun Horsley would not be the same trigger impetus that I had I bet. To confess and deliberate myself for I was genuinely appalled. As I say, not surprised. But absolutly appalled. At me. I had to confess, if to noone but myself, see it in my own ‘hand’writing that I was not so stupid in ‘that’ way that I couldn’t see for myself, what happened. Right there, here in my face! Own up to it. I am not apologizing for anything here, just saying, I realize what I did was deplorable.
Yeah you committed the unpardonable crime of male-bonding.
Liminalist Old Fool 5
He is not me. Podcast Creep! I hear this guy. Slushing words. He is not conscious of it but he could be nearing a type of hysteria. But knowing just enuf the trick being on edge to not get caught, acceptable enuf to appear public in forum without too much suspicion. Appear stable within his limits at the least, like that is his style. Clown over the deterioration jabbing in bits that sound as if they have grounding in sequenced, thought-out consideration, clearly declared, even riding out on a modicum of entertainment merit, ho, ho. As he supposes he has been doing right along. Yet how long? The bluff, is it wearing out, too old and thin to cover for the loose hinge forever? Moreover keep himself altogether in denial much longer. Yes I accepted the invite. I am an old friend and complimented Jasun Horsley’s Leonard Cohen podcast expose so much I think he figured he would do me his honor of me being a guest. My honor, his spurt of generosity. Or was no other guest available and the requirement to keep Auticuture podcast on schedule?
Substituting for my limits either bluster or if I am unusually aware, silence.
Not that I go around whining, but character elements are missing. Under girthed I hear the truth of the initial real plus acquired persona squeeze up into my ear. The sound and tone is not cool either, rather it is annoying. Even so, obviously I think quite highly of myself and go on to prove even more an embrassment. Ride ’em cowboy! Yes, he has a right to claim genetic dichotomy by no choice of birth by association. But he is not or ever will be the forefront, speaking the actual impression of and for me. Not if I have anything to say about it that is. I don’t like it! The way he is. “Music Maestro please. Tonight I must forget.”
actually i’d sent invites a couple of times previously, once via FB, but got no response. then the Cohen thing came along and so I tried again.
Apparently I missed The FB invite, or perhaps it was casual, mixed in with other stuff and didn’t register. Or I simply missed it somehow. Well, it finally done we found out, I certainly did, that the audio interview is not my thing.
When they say believe your worst critics, that doesn’t include yourself.
I suppose. But as you know, without being your worst critic it is likely that the craft improving process is decelerated. Considering that, I hear and see myself face to face like there really is no question about it; I absolutely know somebody who happens to be me, is not that good. Also the weak spots, frailties, that one either decides to improve on or forget about them altogether and move into the areas one knows one can sound and look better in.
Liminalist Old Fool 6
My gracious. Who is this person who sounds like an old teenager, a Valley Boy. You know? Picking up school, youngster jargon that becomes automatic underscore and punctuation virtual every day during most any casual neighborhood gossip occasion. Whatever. It happens when no particular aristocracy has to be protected, you know? Say what? Super. Me being yesteryear, not that loyal to my class, and apparently with none of the ‘my era is righteous’ filter guarding against elements of perpetual adolesence creeping in elucidating code to decode, well, zip ghost, so I sucked up a few bad habits. Still a punk. Fuck you, man. But somebody has to speak up. Who is going to unlock the jive for the demographic generation, 4 years left behind. So? How about the real antiquarians, born before the newest Elvis. Am I right ladies? Don’t count on me, Bye Felicia. I am still recovering from too much altogether embarrassment from something lame I am sure I must have done several times already today. Ain’t that a bite.