Platform Edge – “This Wheel Shall Explode” Pt. 2

Part 1 and other Platform Edge stories can be read at Tapastic :

Somehow I went and got myself committed to two exhibits and a performance this month, because that’s what I do and I wouldn’t be satisfied if I didn’t. But I need to make more new work.

But first, I need to make dinner. We have garbanzos and collard greens, gotta see what I can do with that.

Astral Knife – Night Hospital

On Bandcamp:

I made this sound piece from the recording I made on my phone that night in the ICU, after Eric’s emergency surgery in November.

Dementia Praecoxia – Prelude (words)


Cast out                                                                                                                                               Escape

                                     Awaiting the executioner. Assassin’s poison dart. The rasping dog.

The mock-sun king/s…(How many heads do they have anyway?)

Swimming through aethyr through chaos through storm evading the Keepers of His Order trained to hunt down the apostate, Their watchful eyes forever between the drops of rain. On the other side of lunacy I feel a density I never have before.


It feels duller but at the same time more concentrated.

The lashes and bites from the Rasp Dog throb and sting.

But that won’t be the last of that sensation. The Keepers are approaching fast.

I escape them by cutting off my own wings with shards of glass.

They’re after a troublemaker, a threat, burning fury star-stuff, not a wretched shattered thing.

The storm will wash it all away, and I take refuge in a haze of endorphin.

A bit more fleshing out this vague concept I have…goes to this sound piece:



I just wrote a lengthy response to the lengthy response of that mental health advocacy blog, in which they accuse me of trying to impose one reality on everyone and deny others the right to define their experience. Hit send… and discovered my comments are no longer showing up on their page?! So they can make public accusations and I can’t defend myself?

This is all because I disagreed with an article they posted – not even something they directly said themselves – about schizophrenia not actually existing. Which to me smacks of the sort of hyperbolic that leads to people taking a “it’s all in your head pull yourself up by your bootstraps” approach to mental illness. That’s something I’ve dealt with in my life, and it’s certainly something I’ve talked to other people, IRL and online, about having to deal with, but apparently it’s not on this collective blog it’s not acceptable to offer this perspective, when it disagrees with what they posted.

Kind of funny, that in being not allowed to dissent, and not allowed to answer their accusations, it kind of seemed like they were the ones doing the denying and imposing they said I was.

I have no doubt doctors don’t know everything there is to know about schizophrenia, (or anything else) at this point in time, and that some of what is currently thought may be wrong or obsolete. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking exist. That kind of shutting down shit is why Riker’s houses more mentally ill people than any any (woefully underfunded) treatment center in this city. Fuck that noise.

And speaking of which, then Richard Lyons from Negativland died.


My Medicaid is screwed up, and I can’t get my psych med generic, and people are writing about how schizo-affective disorder, schizophrenia or schizo-anything “don’t exist”. And then Prince died.

Source: Prince – Seven (Official Music Video)

I’d love to embed a youtube video  of Prince, but someone seems to have put alternate tracks on all of them. Really really terrible alternate tracks, like of whiny college boy indie rock bands or something.

This has been a very bad year for anyone who shaped my formative years, pre-adolescent predilection for fluid, gender-bending sexuality without my actually having met them. Martin Gore should probably watch his ass.



Blood Spot People


Drawing faces based on the forms in blood spatters.

Also dealing with Abuelita and her dementia…she’s in a particularly nasty mood. She’s taken to this dire tone of voice like a cracked viola over every little thing, as though the world is ending. Only this tone isn’t used over things like when she’s experiencing actual pain. It’s used when I tell her she can’t have a second cup of coffee because she’s 98 years old and a little over 98 pounds and one is enough. She tells me we haven’t given her any today. I say my husband made the coffee this morning and I gave it to her with breakfast. She throws things to the floor and calls me a liar. At least all she has to throw are pillows and stuffed animals.

I have a month to get new stuff happening for one art show and get a pitch together for another…I need to do something more useful with this chaos.

Harshing My Harm Reduction Buzz

In the past few years I’ve gotten into experimenting with play piercing as a form of performance art, pleasure, and as an alternative to self-harm. I’ve also tried employing these techniques with controlled breathing, meditatively, and been pleased with the shifts in consciousness.

Which is why I took it more calmly than I might have in the past when I went to my favorite supplier only to find out a new law says the little needles can now only be sold to licensed piercers, affiliated with a shop. Which is not to say I wasn’t sad and annoyed or that I don’t think this law is idiotic and pointless (rimshot), just that I took it calmer than I might have at another time.


Ai que tragedia, now I have to order this stuff online at full price like everybody else. (SOB!!!) Eric made me a bowl of ice cream for consolation.

The Starman, Decoder, and Violinist

So now I’m waiting for Eric to return from a screening of the German film “Decoder” that I was too busy to attend. Valerie had been in it, along with a lot of other people.


Saturday I was pleasantly surprised by the first public posting of this cover, for the David Bowie coloring book due out from Feral House this fall. While I didn’t draw that, I do have a Quabbalistic themed piece of line artwork  inside the book, just waiting for adult coloring enthusiasts to interpret as they will. No, you don’t get to see it till the book is out.:)

That picture of Bowie reminds me, the day he died, within 5 minutes of hearing that discovering I had sold two pieces out of Art On A Gallery, so being hit with these rapid highs and lows, causal not chemical at least. This afternoon would prove no different as I came in from the rain later that afternoon from a lunch at a French restaurant and an art sale only to learn Tony Conrad had just passed away. A tremendous musician who I’ve only met on a couple of occasions, but who probably influenced more of what I do with and to my violin than I care to say.


After The Show

After an event sparsely attended but with a number of uplifting compliments on my violin, I want eggs and toast. Both a treat and a way to not wake my sleeping Abuelita by messing around in the kitchen that is smack center of our railroad apartment. Times Square Diner isn’t actually in Times Square, but at this hour, with it’s loud working girls on break and careworn long-timers nursing themselves through whatever it is the night is bringing them, it’s more TS in spirit than the sea of costumed Elmos and Naked Cowboys populating that actual patch of real estate.Amidst it all a squeaky clean tourist family occupies one booth, all blonde, all ruddy cheeked and tan and husky. The dad, who has a pink cardigan tied over his shoulders, cannot look away from me and Eric, spiky, tattered black minidress deviant glory. We may as well have a postcard caption under us that reads WELCOME TO NYC or some such crap.

Needless to say we can barely contain our tight lipped laughter.

Eventually they finish their meal and make their way back to their hotel. We finished ours and are putting on our jackets when the door swings open. Tourist dad is back, this time in alone and in a more nondescript grey sweatshirt and hooded raincoat. He sits uneasily at the nearby counter.




With Sweet Wines And Wines That Foam

Tonight we’re doing the music for this event at Catland, for the Holy Days of Thelema.

12933125_10154708640008574_6380842770662946558_nA reading of the Book of the Law: Chapter 1
with Live Music

Liber AL vel Legis is the central sacred text of Thelema, delivered to Aleister Crowley in Cairo, Egypt by the spirit Aiwass, his Holy Guardian Angel, in the year 1904. Its full title is Liber AL vel Legis, sub figura CCXX, as delivered by XCIII=418 to DCLXVI, and it is commonly referred to as The Book of the Law.

Liber AL vel Legis contains three chapters, each of which was written down in one hour, beginning at noon, on 8 April, 9 April, and 10 April. We will commemorate the writing of the first chapter this evening.

6:30 pm doors open for socializing.

7:00 pm reading and music starts.

Bring food & drink to share – suggested to please Nuit:

“rich foods and …sweet wines and wines that foam!”, and vegetarian foods: “there is no blood therein”

$8.00 donation for rent.

At Catland

987 Flushing Ave in Brooklyn, 6:30 – 9 PM

So, not technically an Astral Knife gig, but I’m tagging this AK cuz it is the two of us providing the music.

In the past I’ve made some well-received vegetarian dishes for the potluck…The first year Catland was open I made ratatouille. This year between caring for Abuelita, preparing to do music, and you know, life…no time to cook. Maybe next year.


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