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Introduction 1
I want to begin this entry with some news. It seems I have moderate tinnitus. I haven’t been to the doctor to have it officially diagnosed, but come on, what else can a constant high pitched ringing in my ears mean, especially since I know how it happened.
I went to a Deerhoof concert a month ago. And yeah, I totally get it, rock concerts are meant to be loud. But this one was beyond loud—much of the music was highly distorted. I spent half of the time plugging my ears (didn’t think to bring ear plugs), and I was in the nosebleed seats, about as far away from the stage as anyone could be. Afterwards, my ears were ringing, but that came as no surprise. When I went to see Perfume in concert in Los Angeles, that too was quite loud (though not nearly as loud as Deerhoof) and my ears rang after that, but the ringing stopped the next day. I figured I’d wake up the next morning and the ringing would be gone.
But no. Okay, maybe it’ll take a little longer, and I wasn’t going to worry about it.
But a few nights ago I got up to use the john, then went back to bed. I was restless and tried reading for a while. That’s when I first really noticed the ringing was still there, and quite pronounced.
The unfortunate thing about tinnitus is ... it’s forever. And there’s no cure. And there’s no real way to manage it (that I know of) other than trying to get used to it. I notice it more at some times than others, but it’s always there, like someone’s shining a very flashlight right in my eyes. I can shut my eyes, but the light still pierces my eyelids.
It’s ironic that until a few nights ago, I really wasn’t noticing it, but now that I’m aware I have tinnitus, I notice it almost all the time (especially when I’m trying to go to sleep).
What does it sound like, you may be asking? Like this.
I mention this here because the tincture evening I’m going to talk about below was the first one I had while being aware I had tinnitus.
Introduction 2
Usually with the tincture doses, the effects are predictable and consistent. But now and then, they aren’t. I once took 1/3 of my usual dose and ended up loopier than usual. And as for the night of this entry, feeling like I wanted to really blow my mind that night, I took a slightly higher dose. Also, I’d been reading lately that THC metabolizes or activates better when ingested with fat. On my last tincture evening I tried my usual dose with some Japanese curry with a glob of peanut butter (to make it faux-Thai style) and BANG! ZOOM! I was having a good time.
So this time I ate a bacon cheeseburger from a food truck and chased it down with a donut (healthy eating, eh?) ... what a disappointment. I did feel it, but barely, and it took longer than usual to hit me. Maybe the burger wasn’t nearly as fatty as I thought it would be—oh, come on! A bacon cheeseburger? Off a food truck? With grilled onions and pineapple? And a donut? Sigh, whatever. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have an enjoyable evening, but it looks like I’m going to have to research this fat business a little more deeply.
Pull My Daisy, dirs. Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie, 1959
The Cut Ups, dir. Antony Balch, 1966
I bet this film annoyed a whole lot of people, but I found it enthralling, almost hypnotic! (and the homoerotic imagery didn’t hurt) Since it was made well before modern-day samplers, when editing had to be done by cutting film and tape and splicing them together, I can only imagine how difficult it must have been just to edit the sound clips, which consist of a few words or short phrases repeated ad infinitum. Over time, however, both the sound and film clips “evolve”; it wasn’t not just the same ol’ thing for twenty minutes. I was startled when I first heard William S. Burroughs’ voice; I had forgotten I had heard it forever ago on Laurie Anderson’s Mister Heartbreak album.
The Cut Ups also made me think of a song Dynamicaracket recorded called “Pioneer / Blue Sky / Silicon / Pepsi”, where Duane and I chanted those words simultaneously (with the help of multi-track recording). Nothing nearly as sophisticated or artful as The Cut Ups but gosh darn it, we were thinking along the same lines! Little geniuses, indeed.
All Saint’s Eve, Dynamicaracket, 1988
This was not one of our better works; there was nothing wrong with it, it’s just not remarkable. Side 1 contains three “pop” songs as well as a sound collage. I recall we had purchased a Disney record of scary noises for an upcoming Hallowe’en party but found it rather disappointing, so we decided to make our own. Unfortunately, it too was rather underwhelming.
Side 2 is a recording of the Hallowe’en party. Duane and I took turns performing either individually or together. Clearly I was going through a Siouxsie & The Banshees phase; not only had I dressed up like Siouxsie, but my two solo songs were influenced by their music. My first song, “The House on Sycamore Road”, was a slinky slightly jazzy number (perhaps like S&TB’s Cocoon) about a party, and the second, “Walk on Glass”, was a thundering punk riot with lots of screaming. :-) Some left over Nina Hagen influence, maybe!
But it was the final song on the tape that caught my attention. I believe my brother Kain had to work that evening but said he’d join us later. When he did, he and I performed a cover of S&TB’s Israel (which, unfortunately, did not get recorded). After that, the show was over, and the guests were mingling and chatting. But then Kain (on guitar), Duane (on keyboards), and I (drum machine and vocals) improvised a song called “Sunrise for All Saint’s Day”. Nothing extraordinary, just two chords. But this was the only time we three little geniuses collaborated on a song (though we would eventually perform in a short-lived group called Zone IV with a fourth member). During “Sunrise” you can hear Duane and me "conducting" by giving verbal directions. After I listened to the tape, I wrote this in my little notebook by the bed:
At that moment we were just the background musicians—nobody was really paying much attention; we were performing for our edification. And I didn’t mean each of us represented one of those three Beat authors, only that they were three giants who associated with each other and we were three little giants associating with each other. I miss having creative types like Duane and Kain around—it’s not that I don’t meet other creative types, but not since Duane and Kain have I met others who really clicked with me so well. I haven’t been in touch with Duane in twenty years* and Kain currently lives in Alabama.
*A month or so ago I sent Duane a snail-mail, in care of his dad, as I only had the latter’s address. I never got a response. Now maybe it got lost in the mail, or his dad just decided to toss it, or he forwarded it to Duane and Duane never got it, or Duane tried to email me but mistyped my address, or ... naaah. More than likely Duane simply chose not to respond.
Guild for Human Music, Masahiko Togashi, 1976
Holy shit, what an amazing performance. Nice to hear some free jazz music that doesn’t always include a piano or a sax (nothing wrong with those instruments, of course), and the exotic percussion added a nice flavor. But it was the final piece that really blew me away. The pianist (Masahiko Togashi) played like he was possessed. He pounded those keys so rapidly, so aggressively, I felt as if I were lying on the ground, being beaten by several aggressors (fancifully armed with a grand piano). At one point, I began punching the air, shouting, “Fuck! Fuck!” like I was fighting back with all my might, even against impossible odds. It felt good!
Interlude
I took a break from the entertainment as the THC was peaking. The whole evening I was aware of the tinnitus. I realized I would never “hear silence” again. I lay back and wondered, what if I gave in to it? How would that feel, how would that sound? The sound seemed to increase until it blocked out everything else (not that there was a lot of other background sound happening). Maybe I was waiting for a message? I imagined I had thousands (if not millions) of nanochips (that looked like green printed circuit boards) coursing through my veins. I imagined I had become sort kind of cyborg, with a constant electronic whine playing in my ears. It was like the sound of millions of crickets, only more shrill and piercing. Or it sounded like I had a tiny tea kettle whistling in each ear. But there was no message, no wisdom or answers, no philosophy, and no respite ... just this never-ending sound.
Son of the White Mare, dir. Marcell Jankovics, 1981
There’s only so much a thesaurus can do ... how many other ways are there to say amazing, mind-blowing, incredible, wonderful? It’s not my fault I keep finding amazing, mind-blowing, incredible, wonderful movies and music. But that’s just what Son of the White Mare is. Think Yellow Submarine as if it had been animated by indigenous peoples, with some Steven Universe rolled in. Mare has definitely joined the ranks of my all-time favorite animated features.
In a Silent Way, Miles Davis, 1969
Not wishing to write another paragraph full of superlatives, all I will say is this album was spooky. Not in a ghost kind of way, but after being beaten by a gang armed with a piano, the gentle simplicity of Davis’ (and his band’s) playing was sublimely haunting.
Epilogue, kinda
No conclusions about tinnitus or maximizing the effects of THC here, but as I was turning in, I realized ... I had the hots for Lieutenant Arex from the animated Star Trek series. No joke here, like fantasizing that an alien with three arms and three legs might have multiple penises or some such nonsense. Arex looked more alien than many of the aliens from the series (which was easier on an animated show), but he also had thoughtful eyes, a handsome face looking like it was carved from rock, a clipped but lilting tenor voice, and he seemed to be intelligent, capable, and gentle. "Ah, Joe, you were just stoned when you thought that." Yes, I was, but I’m not stoned now, and I’d still go for a roll in the hay with Arex. I bet he’s a sensual and considerate lover.
I want to begin this entry with some news. It seems I have moderate tinnitus. I haven’t been to the doctor to have it officially diagnosed, but come on, what else can a constant high pitched ringing in my ears mean, especially since I know how it happened.
I went to a Deerhoof concert a month ago. And yeah, I totally get it, rock concerts are meant to be loud. But this one was beyond loud—much of the music was highly distorted. I spent half of the time plugging my ears (didn’t think to bring ear plugs), and I was in the nosebleed seats, about as far away from the stage as anyone could be. Afterwards, my ears were ringing, but that came as no surprise. When I went to see Perfume in concert in Los Angeles, that too was quite loud (though not nearly as loud as Deerhoof) and my ears rang after that, but the ringing stopped the next day. I figured I’d wake up the next morning and the ringing would be gone.
But no. Okay, maybe it’ll take a little longer, and I wasn’t going to worry about it.
But a few nights ago I got up to use the john, then went back to bed. I was restless and tried reading for a while. That’s when I first really noticed the ringing was still there, and quite pronounced.
The unfortunate thing about tinnitus is ... it’s forever. And there’s no cure. And there’s no real way to manage it (that I know of) other than trying to get used to it. I notice it more at some times than others, but it’s always there, like someone’s shining a very flashlight right in my eyes. I can shut my eyes, but the light still pierces my eyelids.
It’s ironic that until a few nights ago, I really wasn’t noticing it, but now that I’m aware I have tinnitus, I notice it almost all the time (especially when I’m trying to go to sleep).
What does it sound like, you may be asking? Like this.
I mention this here because the tincture evening I’m going to talk about below was the first one I had while being aware I had tinnitus.
Introduction 2
Usually with the tincture doses, the effects are predictable and consistent. But now and then, they aren’t. I once took 1/3 of my usual dose and ended up loopier than usual. And as for the night of this entry, feeling like I wanted to really blow my mind that night, I took a slightly higher dose. Also, I’d been reading lately that THC metabolizes or activates better when ingested with fat. On my last tincture evening I tried my usual dose with some Japanese curry with a glob of peanut butter (to make it faux-Thai style) and BANG! ZOOM! I was having a good time.
So this time I ate a bacon cheeseburger from a food truck and chased it down with a donut (healthy eating, eh?) ... what a disappointment. I did feel it, but barely, and it took longer than usual to hit me. Maybe the burger wasn’t nearly as fatty as I thought it would be—oh, come on! A bacon cheeseburger? Off a food truck? With grilled onions and pineapple? And a donut? Sigh, whatever. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have an enjoyable evening, but it looks like I’m going to have to research this fat business a little more deeply.
Pull My Daisy, dirs. Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie, 1959
The Cut Ups, dir. Antony Balch, 1966
I bet this film annoyed a whole lot of people, but I found it enthralling, almost hypnotic! (and the homoerotic imagery didn’t hurt) Since it was made well before modern-day samplers, when editing had to be done by cutting film and tape and splicing them together, I can only imagine how difficult it must have been just to edit the sound clips, which consist of a few words or short phrases repeated ad infinitum. Over time, however, both the sound and film clips “evolve”; it wasn’t not just the same ol’ thing for twenty minutes. I was startled when I first heard William S. Burroughs’ voice; I had forgotten I had heard it forever ago on Laurie Anderson’s Mister Heartbreak album.
The Cut Ups also made me think of a song Dynamicaracket recorded called “Pioneer / Blue Sky / Silicon / Pepsi”, where Duane and I chanted those words simultaneously (with the help of multi-track recording). Nothing nearly as sophisticated or artful as The Cut Ups but gosh darn it, we were thinking along the same lines! Little geniuses, indeed.
All Saint’s Eve, Dynamicaracket, 1988
This was not one of our better works; there was nothing wrong with it, it’s just not remarkable. Side 1 contains three “pop” songs as well as a sound collage. I recall we had purchased a Disney record of scary noises for an upcoming Hallowe’en party but found it rather disappointing, so we decided to make our own. Unfortunately, it too was rather underwhelming.
Side 2 is a recording of the Hallowe’en party. Duane and I took turns performing either individually or together. Clearly I was going through a Siouxsie & The Banshees phase; not only had I dressed up like Siouxsie, but my two solo songs were influenced by their music. My first song, “The House on Sycamore Road”, was a slinky slightly jazzy number (perhaps like S&TB’s Cocoon) about a party, and the second, “Walk on Glass”, was a thundering punk riot with lots of screaming. :-) Some left over Nina Hagen influence, maybe!
But it was the final song on the tape that caught my attention. I believe my brother Kain had to work that evening but said he’d join us later. When he did, he and I performed a cover of S&TB’s Israel (which, unfortunately, did not get recorded). After that, the show was over, and the guests were mingling and chatting. But then Kain (on guitar), Duane (on keyboards), and I (drum machine and vocals) improvised a song called “Sunrise for All Saint’s Day”. Nothing extraordinary, just two chords. But this was the only time we three little geniuses collaborated on a song (though we would eventually perform in a short-lived group called Zone IV with a fourth member). During “Sunrise” you can hear Duane and me "conducting" by giving verbal directions. After I listened to the tape, I wrote this in my little notebook by the bed:
| It was in Duane’s dad’s garage, which had a rug, some stuff against [one] wall, and many bookshelves. We used it for our parties, as sets for our films and vids. But we three, that night → KEROUAC GINSBERG BURROUGHS. |
At that moment we were just the background musicians—nobody was really paying much attention; we were performing for our edification. And I didn’t mean each of us represented one of those three Beat authors, only that they were three giants who associated with each other and we were three little giants associating with each other. I miss having creative types like Duane and Kain around—it’s not that I don’t meet other creative types, but not since Duane and Kain have I met others who really clicked with me so well. I haven’t been in touch with Duane in twenty years* and Kain currently lives in Alabama.
*A month or so ago I sent Duane a snail-mail, in care of his dad, as I only had the latter’s address. I never got a response. Now maybe it got lost in the mail, or his dad just decided to toss it, or he forwarded it to Duane and Duane never got it, or Duane tried to email me but mistyped my address, or ... naaah. More than likely Duane simply chose not to respond.
Guild for Human Music, Masahiko Togashi, 1976
Holy shit, what an amazing performance. Nice to hear some free jazz music that doesn’t always include a piano or a sax (nothing wrong with those instruments, of course), and the exotic percussion added a nice flavor. But it was the final piece that really blew me away. The pianist (Masahiko Togashi) played like he was possessed. He pounded those keys so rapidly, so aggressively, I felt as if I were lying on the ground, being beaten by several aggressors (fancifully armed with a grand piano). At one point, I began punching the air, shouting, “Fuck! Fuck!” like I was fighting back with all my might, even against impossible odds. It felt good!
Interlude
I took a break from the entertainment as the THC was peaking. The whole evening I was aware of the tinnitus. I realized I would never “hear silence” again. I lay back and wondered, what if I gave in to it? How would that feel, how would that sound? The sound seemed to increase until it blocked out everything else (not that there was a lot of other background sound happening). Maybe I was waiting for a message? I imagined I had thousands (if not millions) of nanochips (that looked like green printed circuit boards) coursing through my veins. I imagined I had become sort kind of cyborg, with a constant electronic whine playing in my ears. It was like the sound of millions of crickets, only more shrill and piercing. Or it sounded like I had a tiny tea kettle whistling in each ear. But there was no message, no wisdom or answers, no philosophy, and no respite ... just this never-ending sound.
Son of the White Mare, dir. Marcell Jankovics, 1981
There’s only so much a thesaurus can do ... how many other ways are there to say amazing, mind-blowing, incredible, wonderful? It’s not my fault I keep finding amazing, mind-blowing, incredible, wonderful movies and music. But that’s just what Son of the White Mare is. Think Yellow Submarine as if it had been animated by indigenous peoples, with some Steven Universe rolled in. Mare has definitely joined the ranks of my all-time favorite animated features.
In a Silent Way, Miles Davis, 1969
Not wishing to write another paragraph full of superlatives, all I will say is this album was spooky. Not in a ghost kind of way, but after being beaten by a gang armed with a piano, the gentle simplicity of Davis’ (and his band’s) playing was sublimely haunting.
Epilogue, kinda
No conclusions about tinnitus or maximizing the effects of THC here, but as I was turning in, I realized ... I had the hots for Lieutenant Arex from the animated Star Trek series. No joke here, like fantasizing that an alien with three arms and three legs might have multiple penises or some such nonsense. Arex looked more alien than many of the aliens from the series (which was easier on an animated show), but he also had thoughtful eyes, a handsome face looking like it was carved from rock, a clipped but lilting tenor voice, and he seemed to be intelligent, capable, and gentle. "Ah, Joe, you were just stoned when you thought that." Yes, I was, but I’m not stoned now, and I’d still go for a roll in the hay with Arex. I bet he’s a sensual and considerate lover.
