Cabin 5











060709
Work continuing on lyric book. Thoughts in motion towards an EP to accompany ‘Heimdall’ album. Artwork for ‘Heimdall’ album being finalized. Sir Matthew continues to sweat it out for the ‘Agent’ program with sporadic help from my own person. CYP2D6 to be released by Quixodelic/New Radish soon? Possibilities of portraits or exploration of the freezer? Travel has left us disoriented. We need our cartography tools to draw a reasonable short term plan.

062309

EP hopes foundering. Instead, preparing to depart for Alaska. Packing my trusty 4-track, of course. Still waiting for CYP2D6. Finished scratching out another illustration for the decorated lyric book. Working on typing up lyrics for ‘Heimdall’ album, and thoughts in motion towards new prose. (That is to say, our film…)

062709
The Atom Band and I have made great progress towards our inventory of the Storage Hold and Sound Laboratory today. Enormous eggs.

070909
Brendon to take a pleasure cruise on dinghy, returning at some point in the mid-to-distant future. Def Mute ambling. Multicolored flak and ribbons. Birds poodling on deck, in hatches, flocking in large muddling plucks and bird-barking about the place. We are delighted. (Birds, of course, were the foray of our own father, his many-dimensional head forking and folding space through an identification-circuit.) Emerson is on board, though he’s usually quiet.

A short, largely confounded try at a jazz recording by myself, Brendon, and Spark, resulting in profound and widespread confusion for all parties. This recording, hereto unnamed, is nonetheless created. It breathes bright sea air and has a pinch-lid oceanic stare. Handclapping proliferates throughout.

That leaves Scarytoes, quite injured, but lacking an unoccupied sick-bay hammock. We’ve sewn him up (though the word sown is perhaps better used for this situation) and he’s looking quite pale and greenish. His 1950’s undershirt and cigarette pack are drooping under metaphysical stress. His lack-of-eyes are dim and disoriented. His mask hurts.

Bob’s your uncle.

072109
Dog Dreams.

080609

We depart from Pepperland far shy of the stockpile of berries I had anticipated. All’s well, the tomatoes were relatively weak from over-salinity, anyway. Contemplation of undersea volcanos has spurred us to begin writing a declamatory essay on vulcanism from submarines. It may become incorporated in further projects after being passed through our paper-to-music translator, which, as I remember, requires a significant quantity of beta-testing yet. It may yield some interesting results, especially when my handwriting is considered.

Did manage to salvage some various items from the plastic flotsam during our rest. They should be cataloged, but it may be some time before I can air the stench from their minute hydrocarbon pores. Of particular interest are a quantity of plastic-based mirrors salvaged from children’s toys. In addition to my previous collection of mirrors, these will be quite an asset. This all ties into another lofty project: Emerson and Def Mute are looking to the construction of my anti-volume cabin addition, Cabin 5.1. We will see what occurs.

Oh, I should also mention that after Mr. Koradji’s unfortunate death, his two bodyguards were left largely unemployed. As Emerson had struck up a mass-based kinship with them, he’s invited them to stay a while longer to help with the renovations. Certainly hope that nobody minds their presence in the Dormitory. I will note that while they are not proficient musicians, even in the least, their skill at karaoke is practically mind-boggling to my own person. This phenomena may be worthy of further investigation.

091709

splenetic –> of or relating to the spleen; bristly, very irritable.
irritable –> excessive sensitivity of an organ or body part; excitability.
elocution –> an expert manner of speaking involving control of voice or gesture.
indignation –> a feeling of righteous anger. (from dignity, see below.)
dignity –> being worthy of esteem or respect. formality in bearing or appearance.
esteem –> admiration; a feeling of delighted approval or liking.
admiration –> wonder; a feeling aroused by something strange and surprising.
humility –> marked by meekness or modesty; with cause to be unpretentious.
pretentious –> making claim to or creating the appearance of importance or distinction, intended to attract notice and impress others.
modesty –> having a limited and not overly high opinion of oneself and one’s abilities; freedom from vanity and conceit.
vanity –> the quality of being valueless or futile; feelings of excessive pride.
conceit –> the trait of being unduly vain; false pride.
Narcissus –> a beautiful young man who fell in love with his own reflection.

I am happy that no thing can be defined of itself. This very fact remains a delight and intrigue to my own person. And so I offer a small cluster of words to you – as a group, do they offer more resolution than an individual word? We move our eyes and ears.

allow your bare feet to be subjected to an
 irritation of thistle-spines in the evening's cool moisture
won't you come thistle walking with me?

    THISTLE WALKING


What can anger bring that sadness cannot bring?
What can pridefullness bring that humility cannot sing?

Though I’m scared as everyone else is;
I choose awareness.
What will the future bring?
I sing.



91809
Fluorescence is a daily grasping. They cast their eyes widening
and their lights everlasting, the energies of which do not dissipate entirely.
They are incapable of tapering out, and they will feed generously into the
surfaces of objects they collide with – each of these objects absorbing
a photon’s wild energy and drinking a slow kiss of it’s motion into heat
before losing touch with such a particle.

If they make sound, I cannot hear it, but my eyes twitch with diffusions –
rude, ruthless, and basking. These quavering fields can become insipid,
wrenching fountains of force. To the senses, they are repetitive and generally
precise architectures of light. Over a duration of time, this precision can
aggravate the mind just as much as a constant, heavy heat.

But, what is light, you may ask? Well, one could try to whisper into your
head your brain your mind your weavings one could try to whisper about a little
piece of matter and then you could absorb what they were talking about and
manipulate it in your head your brain inside of your skull your weavings
as a process that you could organize or reiterate. But that small spoken fragment
is lost; look – you wouldn’t have understood just from a motion or from how I looked
across the table at you. You would have had to hear or maybe I could have
moved my hands across a sheet of paper (with an appropriate utensil) or in an agile sweep across a serial matrix of buttons, each depicting a different glyph. I believe that
the idea of light is a woeful shortfall.
Instead, I feel that light is an immersive thing. You may use your senses, then,
to understand it best. Open your eyes and look, as you are tunneling through it.
It amends itself upon the surfaces of things, and it is easy to overlook light as an actual
media (not unlike a submersion in water, or an object obscured by fog.) We strive
and trouble to understand light as a sensation separate from the object that it interacts with, and why should we, when the object, itself, is so intimately described by the light
we ingest? IN FACT, we are much more aware and in-tune with light than we
are with the physical qualities of any object. We know the color red, we know bumpiness,we know shininess or transparency. We can understand luminescence, and what’s more
the position of matter in space in relation to a source of luminescence. But we do
not understand what the object is. We cannot understand it’s density through
our understandings of light, or it’s temperature, though these things could be
speculated upon through other senses. (*Note: Mainly the sens of touch.)

Perhaps it is better to consider light as a dissolving force. It dissolves us.
We know objects in part by their interactions with light.

100209
Freef.

100909
the-roomer
(This is where I get disorganized aboard the ship. That is to say, where I make my daily preparations, drink hot coffee, grow molds, play loud music in headphones until I blurrycry, grind things into powders and place in jars. Of interest may be my small collection of rock-and-roll artifacts. pictured: a can of Old Style consumed and hand-crumpled by Andy Miller, Halloween 2006.

This picture also contains: Ficus leaf, Chilidog!, The Hypnotist Clock, sink punchless, a phish pumpkin photograph, a book on the study of flags, some actual flags, ‘I like myself’ ribbon, inverted pencil garden, assorted cassettes, infinite supply of vitamins, both of those little googly-eye turtles I forget their names, a lei from the release party, the very best of whitepaperwafer, and a paper-mâchéd jar containing heart-scarring secret message.)

110209

Strangeness.

110809
wolly

021210
5%H44 BHWOL10WLG RMGRON350 ANR %EMNTO485NEITN3SNGT ATNART8823PI
7&TREN33WOMLLK7 5%%ANTOE4 AMORN2340ALMFRO3NARI PO2M3N23OILATNT
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
NEAR FIELD REPORT:

SIMON PILER AND BRENDON HERTZ TO PERFORM
LIVE AT INFINITEA TEAHOUSE.
[ SEE ATTACHED FLYER. ]

END REPORT.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
UL34$WM QUIO%23TMEONWLNO30N*EM HLOAM32NOAMTI4 ANOTEM95$ANOWM
WINTO EM72NA ATMO%MEIOK TLEMO3&ZMTO WNTIT%%AMTONEIW MTO

021610

letter i wrote
4 miles long

song i sung
flown as a flag.

cars breeze
on the beltline race;

bicycle-brake
bone spokes
lag or droop.

nettle ink
and paper.


113010

from my journal, 111910

i am so flighty
i feel like a lump of sap
i am full of erotic dust
or a tattooed universe

cobbling ideas together
with string

“And I am struck once again by the unutterable beauty, terror, and strangeness of everything we think we know.”
– Edward Abbey


010511

chrysalis, i am debt free
whitish light unfurling past the trunks of long-forgotten trees
eclipsing lichen yellow, dewy solder gray,
low crackling electric moss.

born into a space triumphed by the
long-winding ancient of rivers, buffalo feet
frozen save for the silent channel in the middle
where the chocolate mink will drink
and the history of everything that has ever happened
will not be forgotten nor lost
instead, will emerge from a period of pupation
unfettered within the mind of a ghost


021511

from my journal, 080310

the waves of proceeding generations
and the waves of your own death
ripple back to your heartbeat life
quite in the present
as a scent can carry on the air,
cast across spaces

three rose hips ripen
on a bush
over a valley
and they spill
their bountiful surplus
into a temple of flattened stones.

***

from my journal, 010711

where are your visions of beauty
now that the summer of contents has passed and gone?
mine are still here
time flows through them as a river bed.


021711

from my journal, 102010

i can understand a golden circlet
or a crown of thorns
but who set lock and key
to loki without remorse?

with his tricks
he set the bales to burn
turned ashen the faces
of those followers;
and for that he will blink
poison
from both blinded eyes
and curse as long as able
a twisted tonguing
of dismal survival, confusion,
and love-smouldering.

so when the giants gnash
their teeth and pour
a frozen gruel upon
their wooden plate,
he’s focused.

and when the willow tie
themselves in knots
which describe the rarer
truths of certainty;
the wind will purge it’s
memory and frot against
curvaceous rocks.
but he will still remember.

and in the golden smokes
which billow in the aftermath
of undoing
he will find the Observer,
bid Him farewell,
tap the blade of a dagger
‘tween two ribs
and emit one final breath
in song:

your fibers surround you
but do they know of protection?
our sovereign is cold

the hawk’s grip is true
but her actions fleeting
faster than sun wax expires

lowly swing of earth
and energy of stars
now release and howl
as coiled within me
copper flute

31 thoughts on “Cabin 5

  1. why thankee, sir. (you can, if you wish…)

    that grand piano is mighty great, too – if I may say so myself!

    …been listening to some of the cozy home discography… got a lot of catching up to do.

    Just started with Fig Mints ‘Hugs and Smiles’, and The Real Burnouts ‘The Whole Sad Story’.

  2. Cashew Cook is live in the woods pop/folk brilliance

    Bad Choice Brigade for Fig Mints (although the new one Exercises is its match)

    The Real Burnouts – You Won’t Know Until You Find Out or Transparent Mirror are pure lo-fi psychedelic gold, even though A Lull In Void is my favourite just because it’s all over the place, I’d still start with either of those two

    They’d be my 3 recommendations

    Yeah the corridors seem very comfort-able/ing after a few drinks – I’ve fallen over a few times on my way back to my bunk on the wrong side of midnight… on the flipside that feeling of drunken brain-waves and rollicking sea-waves when working in tandem can be quite the experience

    Draw on Japhy Piler 😉

  3. Wow! It took me along time to find this place since my last extended stay. Between wandering the ship, taking a shower, and a few months since that dreaded dinghy trip (which turned out to be less than pleasure), I am BACK! It’s good to be here, in cabin five, once again. Perhaps, Piler, you’ll let me stay a while? Eh?

    1. Are you kidding, Brendon?

      I need you to overdub 30 or 40 new recordings, my good man!

      [speaking faster and faster…]
      (And to drink about 20 to 30 gallons of Algaebrew while you’re at it. Personally, I can’t decide if I like the stuff or not – but it doesn’t really matter does it? Especially in light of my consumption-rate: approximately 10.2 liters per day on average. I guess I simply can’t abide waste, and since we’ve only got a handful of celestials to drink it, I figure I’d better do my part. And if only I could unclutter my own brain at present – it’s quite the solid brick of crud and stone dead, besides. Gads! Perhaps you could help? Or maybe Becky still has some of that mental floss? …Er, oh wait, actually, I think WE packed that mental floss… Hey, Def Mute! What did we do with the mental flossssss?)

  4. Knock Knock, morning QM

    That’s my shift just starting – I reckon a couple of days of building/general repair work to the ship are required…

    Any further thoughts on my treehouse and/or submersible conversions? I’m feeling a little scrench happy today.

    Ah shit, I forget you’re all fast asleep…

    (splashes away down the corridor)

    1. Well, I suppose we had ought to put some energy into repairing the mast; we’ll probably need to do that first if we’re going to put a treehouse on top. And in order to do that, unfortunately, I think we’re going to need to find a port (where we can hire a crane operator or at least rig up some kind of pulley system…)

      The rocket is easier – I’ve already removed the front bubble from the sub and I’m working on a nice, shiny nosecone. The engine work is a bit slower – we’ve got to completely take out the propellers and pneumatics in order to prepare the housing for the rocket, itself.

      Man, there’s more than that… but I’ll get myself organized before I spew too much; in short, what date are you looking at for liftoff, loosely? And you DO know that five people in that thing is going to be a delightfully close fit, right?

      WAH…

      1. Mast repairs – don’t worry about it. We seem to be travelling fast enough with only two working, and with that little keyhole on the mast itself up in Crow’s Nest 2, it makes access to the OOM much easier.

        !

        Idea: Can we take the collapsed mast and lower it down through the holes in Storage > The Quixodelic Record Store > Co Boardroom > Sick Bay, making it like a fireman’s pole? Would need to plane in down a bit, but it would save on floor and ceiling repair work, make for easy access (at least down-the-way) to the lower levels from the Main Deck. By my calculations, that would make the access panel to the OOM in Storage. Which seems appropriate somehow.

        I’m excited to hear about the rocket developments. Ashamed to say that I am 10x more excited about the rocket than I was about The Invisible Box-Set (though perhaps this might have something to do with me putting it together). No date for
        lift-off – but it would be good to be back home in time for Christmas, and failing that before the Simon Piler and The Atom Band gig on the 11th January. How long does it take to fly to the moon and back? For some reason in my head I seem to think it will take somewhere in the region of 11 and a half days. That algaebrew can do wonderful things. How many barrels of the stuff have we still got? Last I counted there was three full kegs in the kitchen and various half-empty containers lying around the ship. Is this going to be enough? Is there an alternative? Could we go into space via the internal freezer door? (I know I said we should never go in there again, but I’m purely conjecturing out loud).

        Yes, room will definitely be an issue. I think we potentially need to expand the capacity somehow. It’s cramped with two people in it. And that night myself, Moppy and Slight took it for a spin, I was just thankful that we all knew each other really well. I’m a bit phobic about human contact at the best of times.

        But where there’s a will there’s a way eh? Hey hey.

        Plus we will need space tunes pre-prepared.

        Just to clarify about the tree house. It can be done. Replace Crow’s Nest 1. I’ve been working on an elaborate design involving a giant wooden teepee mushroom with a wood stove, a space-age pod for show, a chute, a helicopter landing pad (much needed… it’s only a matter of time before a visitor to the ship falls from the rope ladder, twists their ankle, and sues the bejesus out of us… Amalfi could deal with it, but he’s got his hands full already I think with the whole Peruvian thing), also a flower-pot basket swing (beneath the chute obviously). I’ve drawn it three times and it’s an artistic nightmare. If we can get past that, then the practicalities of building it should fall into place.

        So yeah, I’d say ideally early November for the moon mission?

        The most important thing is we don’t spend tooooo much money on this thing. Space exploration always sickens me as an incredible waste of money. If we can somehow MAKE money for charity, or a worthwhile cause through advertising on the side of the shuttle/rocket then that would be grand. I wonder if GLEEM would be interested? Or ALGAEBREW CO-OPERATIVE HOLDINGS PLC… haha.

        😉

        1. 1. What if the mast was instead the basis for a helical ladder with dowels for rungs? It could serve the same purpose as a fireman’s pole, but would allow for easy motion in two directions instead of one… Besides… I guess I will have to admit I am scared of ‘The Splinter to End All Splinters’.

          2. Contacted GLEEM. Great news – they’re eating up this rocket stuff; allow me a day or so to post my telephone conversation for y’all.

          3. Algaebrew supply: MIDDLING TO LOW. That’s sad. BUT, the Atom Band and I are also feverishly working on a new formula for our beloved beverage-turned-rocketfuel. We think that it’ll be called Dreambrew, instead. This to be more clearly reported as mentioned above.

          1. 1. I considered a giant ladder, but thought a giant fireman’s pole would be more fun. However I’d never considered “The Splinter to End All Splinters”, so yeah, let’s run with the helical ladder. I really need to update the blueprints soon.

            2. Brilliant. Maybe we should individually seek sponsorship as well… milk the cow so to speak. Potentially I reckon “Pocket-Mouse” would be up for having their logo emblazoned on the back of my space-suit. Incidentally Simon, here’s a suit for you. You’re putting the work in so I’m assuming you’re going to want to go. That leaves 2 free places. Plus we’ll definitely need to sort out a Mission Control of some kind. There might not be the same glory, but it’s arguably the most important role of the whole thing. And a damn sight safer.

            3. Dreambrew – ace. From a consumer’s perspective perhaps we could do something with this batch to make it taste a little less… well, sea-weedy.

  5. Ring Ring

    You remember the good old days Piler before this swanky new phone system was installed when people just walked into each others rooms?

    So when are you heading over to the Comms Room to play me at the Numbers Game? I’m assuming you will be putting that Elephant Teapot of yours on the line…

    ++Nikosupercomputer++

    1. Sure, sure, sure, Niko.

      Whew.
      I haven’t even left my Cabin this weekend. Just one of those drowsy spells, I guess. I’ll be ambling over shortly, you strange and circuitous fellow.

      1. I’m pretty good too. You know, that picture of the man saying ‘Big birds lay big eggs’ will literally never get old. It’s been there for what, 5 months, and I still laugh a bit every time I see it. Actually, I’m still laughing about Bopcrons too, and I said it to someone the other day for no apparent reason. Am I still sane? Overall, I give you two thumbs up, and my own personal hooray!

        1. Thankee, Becky. I definitely needed those thumbs up and hoorays.

          Whew…
          I think I am partially blind from welding on the icosikaihena.

  6. ++Hey Piler++

    You missed several attempts from Athens for a video link-up with the ship today. I answered it but every time there doesn’t appear to be anybody there?

    1. EH? Hold on hold on….

      Willoughby!

      Don’t worry, Niko, I’ll figure that shit out. I just wish I had my Hypnotist Phone. Would make things quite a lot easier and last-minute-scrambling, wouldn’t it?

  7. Simon, I put that scroll you gave me in the safe.

    Between you and me, we drilled a hole in the base of it about a year ago and stole the box that contained your paper heart.

    Never could figure out the combination…

  8. Psst… it’s me.

    Up here. With the wings. On top of the security camera. DON’T LOOK UP! Just tie your shoes or something. Shhhh, there’s someone coming. Act oblivious.

    JAMES REDMOND: Hi Simon. You’re not waiting for the lav are you?

    No?

    Wow. First time ever no queue!

    Are you alright there mate? Just you’re acting… a bit oblivious la.

    Anyway, I’m away for my DAILY shower. Got to keep clean up here in space. You don’t want to be catching lowfrequencymites or arcadefleas or plasmaworms or fibriltics or magnetosheathlice

    [exits]

    [returns]

    or gammacrabs

    [exits]

    Psst… has he gone?

    Wow. That was an itchy conversation.

    Listen Simon. I know what Willoughby’s up to, but I need to know that I can trust you before I tell you. Do you know how many double-agents there are on the Mardi?

    No, neither do I. But I know of at least two and quite possibly three. One of the advantages of being small enough to fit inside the popcorn ducts is that I can eavesdrop quite easily.

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not for a moment suggesting you’re involved, but you’ll understand that I need to be careful. It was a risky move me leaving that cassette recording of Willoughby and W for Smally to find. I can’t believe he would play it to the whole crew. What an idiot!

    So… I’ll be in touch. Keep your ears open, your eyes watered, and your nose to the ground Dr. Piler.

    Your friend,

    Buckley

    [flies off]

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