The Tinkle

Four Times Greater Underwater

The Speed of Sound 11.14.17. Adobe After Effects. LOVELY. I am in love.  11.12.17 Started new piece of fiction, working title Machine Madness. It is pretty good thru half of it. […]

The Speed of Sound

11.14.17. Adobe After Effects. LOVELY. I am in love. 


Started new piece of fiction, working title Machine Madness. It is pretty good thru half of it. Then another aspect of the voice intrudes, starts taking over. Ooo la la when character baiting refracts into two. As first draft “business,” not bad.

Added a fave book am re-reading to Fab a Lot, Clarice Lispector’s Água Viva. After having given a copy to Brendan McCarthy, director of Systems & Materiality over in SOF, at Parsons Newschool. Lovely when I give away a book, I get to see it from another deft perspicuity which enriches its reading anew. Also entry for Nick Cave’s Dublin concert.

Am getting pretty decent with HTML5 (using timeline in Animate) and createjs. createjs is the embedded javascript library that handles Animate when working in HTML5 Canvas.

Plan on building a new page called Mad Love: Takes and Shorts. Started a new poem about Moods and Changing Hair Color, not up yet. Dreaming doing a Take of myuglymug reciting, then running that through AE filters, as colors of love. Plan initially is to start out doing kind-of-you-know humorous.obnoxious.artsy shorts.


FACT: 4 was yr when Pure Demure alias The Hide Away aka Boat launched out of Marina – when many of Stinky’s cousins first grew horns thorns, submarine castaway, a hopeless flirt was born – Certain things theatrical, certain scope mechanics – how they live inside this beam now as two prong, as a devils fork collective, in cahoots with beauty and her beasts, like a fourth wall, unsettling along the river for an ocean floor hungry as fish is a dogs mouth mushroom hunting or a whale just below that window of sound spewing gratitude  – & all is a sea in song.


Tru Con is growing: Foot & Mouth, The Sorrow of God – that is still dense as blood pudding but has tons of stuff to develop. & Pop Goes Fey – 


Whirly Tool is “settling down” off of what was (for me) a really big push to put this site up – Only page still need redesign is Comments. And School for next semester. And new page Mad Love etc.


Behind the actual there’s a gesture. That is its own beauty.


Poem: Ensalivé has pushed through 1) the throw down 2) the sing song 3) first pare back. And now gone through a 2nd Full Write. & she has started another one: My Country is a Slave to Death 2nd draft. 

Poetry is complicit, an interloping that meddles with me, a muddle a scuttle wrestle & terror of beauty, lust, fuss, disruption, thwart! work work work.

Cover of new version LAURE wd be smoky she is dreaming in shades of grey. Something “in here/out there” as an effort to “see thru it/see it thru” is taking on new shape –


Translating. I look up while translating and think about Baudelaire and his Mum. Baudelaire was in love with Edgar Allen Poe. Bauedelaire’s mum knew a little English, and they translated Edgar Allen Poe together. Laure – I love her. Dreaming up variations of her cosmology in a way I find has much acceptance and relief. Her deep edgy mournful chowder lays near dauntless childhood traumas of mine, always in pursuit of their own. I find fresh candor in her descriptions that eerily reflects the double of death and sex, of holiness and sex, of sorrow and sex, the manner into which I was born. To lay with a mind of a girl who traverses through the wreckage of her youth, grave, intent, yearning. A girl whose figure hides behind flower and shrub – secretly watching boys yank off. She is a perfect monster of sorrow and love. Stubbornness magnified, impotent with grief, and yet like Rimbaud over the top admissions that descend out of the holy replete and surge into questions of dour tragic winsome belief. There is beauty about her I find morbid yet its humor provides shocking ruesome relief.


Started translating Laure by Colette Peignot. Fabulous. Falling into somebody elses beautiful muses that are tragic destructive mournful, privileged, sexually embarked upon, captivated by images, starts right off – coming through The Religion.


Cervantes is a new piece, still in excavation mode, its about his trunk, in the play The Man of la Mancha, his theatrical trunk, is thrown in Prison right along with him by The Inquisition. And me in turn now finding it – as play inside the play – as a state of temptation. (And Prison remorse?)