Under the Sun, Episode 1

Are We Born Fools?

     Please take a listen to this pod cast by Aaron Franz.  These are concepts that much of us understand, but never truly reflect on.  I am sure much of you sense these things, but dismiss them as new age hocus pocus or even worse conspiracy theories.   Let us not discard what our ancestors worked hard to decipher. 

Listen on and like Franz says “seeker seek on”.




Click here for more:

Under the Sun

Tuesday Night Post # 2-6

My Fellow Futurist,

     In action we are.  If there is no death then we are.  If there is no choice made then we are.  If you believe in destiny then we are.  A thought swallowed is a decision made. Yes we are futurist.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Lets relay what was left on the thought feed

Which to me was more then just one flash of this moment

A device we take for granted

Those lil crystals reflect

to me more then just images

Lets us rehearse what has just transverse across my peripheral

I found this line that traced the curve of your hand

In its aftermath

left

was a turquoise glove

Bent over smelling each perfectly formed flower in that garden

I stood behind thinking the next thought to say

Staring at my text

knowing editing it myself would have no higher result

Holding the rail at the front of the bus

My mind dug deep in the filthiest gutter

Your eyes always wandering back to my crotch

Staring at you in the kitchen
wondering what's wrong

Thinking maybe you do need a drink

Laying there on the second story

Another layer below me

Your bed

Eyes staring at your dark green ceiling

The metal bar that held down that curtain

hanging over the threshold

In the wind it gently banged

That sound once known in youth

now etched in love

With this feed all is now and the past is a poison

BARE BONES BUTOH PRESENTS: SHOWCASE #25

From Bob Web:


BARE BONES BUTOH PRESENTS: SHOWCASE #25!

(Adventurous Shows for an Adventurous Audience)

WHEN:

Performances: Friday Dec 14, 2012, and Saturday, Dec 15, 2012 (mostly different line-up each night)
Both performances are at 8:00 pm


WHERE:
Studio 210
3435 Cesar Chavez St (at Valencia)
San Francisco, CA 94110
Studio 210 is located in the former Sears Building, inset from the corner of Cesar Chavez and Valencia Street. Accessible by: BART - 24th St Station; and MUNI - #12, #27, #14, #49. Plenty of on-street parking (although Cesar Chavez is still undergoing eternal construction, so please plan accordingly).


TICKETS:
Performances: $5-$20 sliding scale. No one turned away for lack of funds.
Additional donations are graciously accepted and gratefully appreciated.


WHO:
This time around, the performers are:

Both Shows: Ronnie Baker, Wolfgang Heinle, Martha Matsuda, Maria Moon, and Bob Webb
Friday Only: Christina Braun, Dasha Che, Mark Deutsch, Lila Ann Dodge, Dorine Hoeksema, Jochelle Perena, and Constance Taylor
Saturday Only: Special Guest Butoh Master Hiroko Tamano, Bad Unkl Sista, Molly Barrons, Shelley Cook, Michael Curran, John Doyle, Shoshana Green, Jennifer Gwirtz, and Megan Nicely
 
Quite a line-up, wouldn't you say? Should be a couple of VERY GOOD SHOWS!

Surprise guest artists may also be performing as well. There are often last minute additions (local, national, and international artists) to the programing, it's that kind of show.


WHAT:
Bare Bones Butoh Presents is a performance Showcase for local, national, and International artists working in the fields of Butoh, Performance Art, Ritual Performance. and The Undefinable. It exists for artists to try out new material, show works in process, hone improvisational chops, and redo or revisit previous material. Bare Bones Butoh Showcases employ the grassroots ethic of working together to sustain an artistic culture. We are community building and performance all smushed together into two evenings.


Thanks, and we hope to see you there.


Further info:
Bob Webb
bobwebb20@hotmail.com

Tuesday Night Post # 2-5

Good evening to you all,

On this slow and grueling Tuesday evening my body seeks to lay in the soft heap that exists in the bedroom I have created in my head which is filled with foam like material that gives to my weight just enough to make me feel like I have no mass but still have a shape.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Shoreline

Every time I open my jaw I can hear it rip from its joint

You know when you are sitting in the grass

Mind wondering

Hands that yet to go idle

Ripping moist green grass

As you mindlessly listen to your lover’s story

That feeling

That rip

That sound

That’s it

I open and close my mouth wanting to hear the noise

Feel the discomfort

Maybe it’s just to convince myself that

that is what it sounds like

Or it’s just that I still don’t believe that my jaw is doing that awful sound

Well eventually I forget cuz the dull pain at my temple starts to wander in

Maybe it’s the opening and closing of my mouth that has allowed the pain to return

or most likely it’s the five blows to my head in the last month

Hmmm but one wasn’t even to my temple

Ok to be honest three to the temple

One to the cheek

and another flashing one to the right side of the back of my skull

Elementary says the one to the back of my head would be the one to worry about

Strange

That one was the least of my troubles

Some say life can hand you a beating

But when that beating manifests itself to multiple beatings

That’s just a joke high tailored for irony only seen around these parts

Much jokes have meaning so what is the meaning of this one

What does it mean that the struggle did not end with me getting the worst of it

But feeling it

Sunken in the buff at the edge of the water

Sunglasses glaring this magnificent sight back whence it came from

Hat dipped low

Face trying to find refuge from this glorious sun

I sulk

Not in pain

Not in depression

Not in anger

But in existence

I play back the new visuals I have learned

The new stories to lament

This edge of earth I have built a humble home for this

moment of near life …

I’ve lost my train of thought and all I can hear is that

creaking

ripping sound

Sometimes the body is a glitch of useful actions

coagulating to a gunk of festering reactions

I have a perfect seat for this momentous view

The grey clouds that I have been enjoying

part

Orange glow reflected below

as this was above the dawning sky

A perfect audience at an event not so extraordinary

This sand so moist and willing

A seat for my ass

My head speaking in one-line stories

I sink in to this mystery that I think exists and I think I am attempting

To solve

Water in my boots darken the shadow that already is draped on my shoulder

These cold knees ache only in this contest

I am only a net filled with lost shoes and thrown away wigs

As I float away

I remembered that I left

a black pen in the pants that are in the dryer

Tuesday Night Post # 2-4

Vanilla Friends,

Nothing to do on this Tuesday view of this post.  Eating cheese and crackers I serve you one more just to get some laughter.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

It resembles the urge to urinate on an object to be neglected. 

Primal reactions that we keep from arising.

Actions that even the most educated blue bloods, especially the blue bloods, will have arise like eruptions of vomit when poisoned with a tainted substance.  Maybe it lies dormant in between our connecting nerve cells with no purpose, but as a reminder that we live in a visceral self.  A self of only a few that can be confused by behaviors that existed in the primordial ooze.  Convoluted structures that we extrapolate from necessary patterns and triggers that have no purpose in biology, but serve to add symmetry and un-kink the fluid thought of reaction. 

A play that replicates nature so as to learn from it. 

In this action origin is lost, distance is made, action becomes reaction of the one long forgotten.  Lost is the thought that started the first.  Finding the end of the ropes would only serve to tighten the delusion of a solid foundation. 

A foundation that is to be uprooted if it is to be discarded. 

So strong is the urge that it transcended with us as we voyage into the digital ether.  A higher self lifted on the shoulders of the previous self.  A dusty note from a memory not forgotten, it was just misplaced.  Let me describe this in accurate terms; a memory not lost, but in our endless procrastination it was left on the back burner. Bubbling over steaming…this is a different kind of smelt fish.  

The verb is the description. 

We understand things as they pertain to us.  To understand the Natural Law, as we see it in our endless wisdom,  we must not enter it, we must let it enter us.  We become the concept.  We have hooves. We must fly. We must melt.   Yes us. A bottomless possibility of new, higher, sounder, fire, lighting of the speed kind.  A lesson in play. 

This is play we are play science is at play.