Will Grammar Instructor Gundrun accept Jack’s advances despite his invention of pantyholes?
Gundrun must once again announce her absolute and complete lack of interest in Jack and any and all romantic plans he has concocted. Archibold is himself concocting a plan of revenge with his recently resuscitated telepathic monkey. And Headmistress Ursula? Even as she relates intimate details from her past, she continues to weave a web of mind control and other illocal elements.
Ramses (Retrograde)’s Jason Allen—also of ComoRevi Butterfly and the Blank Bankers—who played on and produced Mutable’s No Place to Die—who has been affiliated with FROG (FRiends Of Gamelan), is a great lover and student of Indonesian music, and is friends with Alex Yoffe among others—has graciously shared his library of casio compositions, and we here at Mutable chose this as one of the saner options. Enjoy!
Luo Brothers, Welcome the world famous brand (2000)
(The author believes the only “true” translation of the Tao must be a mistranslation, for, as 老子 himself said, 道可道非常道, or ‘Tao as Tao not eternal Tao’. Enjoy this ongoing mistranslation!)
46.
Those who have Tao retreat before horses depositing their excrement upon the neighbor’s lawn. Those who are without Tao are themselves military horses giving birth in the suburbs. The harm is not great for those who are not yet content, and the blame is not great for those who have already obtained their desires.[1] Causing contentment to actually indeed both be enough and always almost but not quite yet sufficient.
47.
You don’t leave your front door yet have knowledge of everything under heaven. You could never spy into the window of enlightenment and still face the heavenly way like an unraveling tongue of light. This journey fills the far reaches, but its knowledge fills few. According to the sacred person, not walk but know, not see but understand, a shell of a man yet become complete.
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“In Revelation, Colin Winnette sets fire to the world, and in the aftermath, characters wander through smoke, struck dumb by devastation. A forceful book — stripped down, cool, and painful — about the absolute peril of desire.”
—Ben Marcus, author of *The Flame Alphabet*, *Notable American Women*, and *The Age of Wire and String*
“Colin Winnette has… made a provocative work by framing the ordinary in the unfathomable.”
—Rosellen Brown, author of *Before and After* and *Civil Wars*
Revelation, Colin Winnette’s debut novel is a startlingly simple, fresh and audacious retelling of the famous biblical apocalypse tale. Winnette’s Revelation is, on the one hand, a very everyday and modern story, in which desperate characters wander and slip from one year to the next, but behind what would otherwise be a mundane detail lies an architecture of the supernatural — a father carries his son to his grandfather’s retirement community, but does so across a parking lot consumed in a plague of locusts, two childhood friends construct a fort from the hull of an enormous ship abandoned by the oceans as they recede, a body falls from the sky as a warning, but only demolishes the deck of a character’s lakeside home.
To us here at Mutable, Colin Winnette seemed to pop out of nowhere a year ago to instantly become a force of some renown among the indie literary world. A Finalist for the 1913 Press First Book Award, Winnette has stirred up notice from all corners for his innovative and striking stories, as well as his various narrative experiments of larger size. However, Revelation is more than just a stylistic exercise, it’s a powerful emotional document.
(A S Hamrah, known to us affectionately as “The Hammer”, as in, “And the hammer came down…”, has always astounded us with the precision of his observations and the general power of his critical punch. Recently, he interviewed Lynda Carter, better known as Wonder Woman. The first few paragraphs of this interview can be found below.)
“You look hot.” The first words Lynda Carter spoke to me were a variation of the same ones I had spent more than 30 years waiting to say to her. But Ms. Carter did not mean “hot” that way. What she meant was that I was a mess, and sweating. By the time my long wait to meet her was over—it ended at the Thalia restaurant in midtown on a humid afternoon last Wednesday—I was in rough shape.
I had had a few decades to prepare for this interview with Wonder Woman. When I finally got the chance, the one superpower I possess kicked in—my ability to melt when the dew point hits 60. The closet thing I resembled to a superhero was Frosty the Snowman, in warm weather, two eyes made out of coal swimming in a pool of water.
I had just gotten off a delayed flight at J.F.K. Sitting at the bar waiting for Ms. Carter, wearing the same clothes I had been in for the past 28 hours, during which time I had not slept because the guy sitting next to me on the plane spent the flight jabbing me with his elbow while playing video games on an iPad, I could not be trusted to hold a door for her, much less coherently discuss her days as Wonder Woman on television, her singing gig at Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Allen Room or her new recording, Crazy Little Things. Where was the bartender with that soda water I ordered?
Before he could deliver it, Ms. Carter appeared in the doorway of the restaurant, silhouetted by the noon sun streaming in from Eighth Avenue, outlined like a four-color drawing in a comic book but in 3-D.
[The rest of this article can be found at The New York Observer.]
The Headmistress’ mind control techniques are very effective.
Confronted by trans dimensional beings, Gundrun at last lets down her guard with Jack. But what is going on back inside the infirmary? And out in the world beyond?
As proclaimed by General Maxwell Taylor: „The lesson of Vietnam was that we were too late in recognizing the extent of the subversive threat. Every young, emerging country must be constantly on alert, watching for those symptoms which, if allowed to develop unrestrained, may grow into a disastrous situation.
„We have learned the need for a strong police force and a strong police intelligence organization to assist in identifying…the symptoms of an incipient subversive situation.“
Corporations and government joined to fund a flock of propaganda and surveillance agencies involved in trade and espionage. **A divided Berlin was the hot focus for these agencies.
Read MoreOriginally published in The Collagist
Amazing Adult Fantasy, A D Jameson’s debut collection of fiction, asks us to think carefully, as adults, about our childhoods. Not only our childhoods, however, but the nature of fiction and fictions, the imagination, and our relationship with them as we ‘grow up’ and supposedly “put away childish things.” The epigram that starts the collection, Paul speaking to the Corinthians, is one of the many clues Jameson gives us for thinking about the book, for understanding the sometimes contradictory ideas that govern its form and his approach to familiar and even iconic characters from our youth.
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(A D Jameson has a new book out by Lawrence & Gibson, a remarkable little outfit in New Zealand renowned for their beautiful hand-sown craftsmanship. Jameson’s new book, entitled Giant Slugs, is a strange and alluring creation; it’s narrator exiled, ousted, put out by those oozing outsized interlopers, denied his true inheritance, his due kingly crown. So begins this epicene narrator’s epichorial wanderings (part epicrisis, part epicedium) in this largely silly, slightly filthy, pun-laden Epicurean retelling of the ages-old Epic of Gilgamesh.)
On the fifth day, our class was taken on a field trip to Ninja City’s secret portions, the developing suburban bailiwicks, expanding eastward at the rate of three blocks per year. The slogan of these newer parts was, “Virus-Free Since ’93!” Their motto was, “We Will Find the Serum.”
The ninjas who lived there, global warming enthusiasts, threw webbed geodesic domes over desolate tracts—the war-scarred landscape it had been left to them to develop. When the finished dome was turned on, it generated an interior rain that lasted for forty days and thirty-nine nights. When the domes were taken down, the desolation had been transformed into normal, productive topsoil, rich loam like you’d find in a national forest. Other ninjas, the ones whose talents disposed them to comprise the follow-up crew, paved over the mess and poured concrete sidewalks marked with their handprints and the date. Then they built roadside stands from which they sold pints of Noby Sheets’s coleslaw. (She used her spare time once a week to make big vats of the stuff, the most delicious slaw I’d ever tasted.)
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Two years ago a group of Asian non-government organizations held a conference in Malaysia concerning the right to self-determination in East Timor. The conference lasted for 10 minutes before it was broken up by a group closely associated with the Malaysian government, who had bowed to pressure from Suharto to not allow the conference.
The East Timorese have been fighting for their independence since they were invaded by Indonesia in 1975. An estimated 200,000 East Timor citizens have been killed or disappeared, roughly 1/3 of the population.
East Timor is one of the significant sites of 20th century genocide and Suharto has been a prime recipient of investment funds from the Deutche Bank.
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What invisible forces are at work?
The Headmistress wants to believe she is the evil one, but the narrator has something else in mind. Faeries will never amount to anything, and narrators can impersonate people when they’re off in the bathroom, and may occasionally titter over smashed faces. And the devil should be obvious.
Zhang Huan, Family Tree (detail), 2000
(The author believes the only “true” translation of the Tao must be a mistranslation, for, as 老子 himself said, 道可道非常道, or ‘Tao as Tao not eternal Tao’. Enjoy this ongoing mistranslation!)
66.
How is it that the rivers and seas are able to become king over the hundred valleys? It is as a result of their ability to flow downward. In this way, they become as kings.
Similarly, when a saint wants the people to be raised up, this must be done through words that lower; wants the people first, must be done by putting the body last.
Is according to the saint that the government stands over them, yet the people are not burdened, the office is put before them, yet the people are not harmed.[1]
All of which is made possible because this is a joyful push by the politburo and by no means a hateful one. Accordingly, no one can therefore argue, causing, all under heaven to be unable to find anything to complain about concerning the politburo’s most recent re-education campaign.
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In his groundbreaking book, Russian Thinkers, Isaiah Berlin distinguishes between 19th Century French attitudes towards their writers and the attitudes of their 19th Century Russian counterparts. The French, he claims, considered the life of the writer to be extraneous, that the style and the skill of the author was paramount, while for Russians an author and his life were indistinguishable. I have always sided with the Russians in this regard.
The writer is not just a detached craftsman or stylist, but a person writing about people. Do I believe in this person or not? In the world as this person depicts it? Is this author a false prophet or a true prophet? This is how I think of writing. How very Old Testament of me. Which brings us to the New Sincerity.
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Mutable favorite Jason Grote is working on a new project: HABIT, an installation piece by David Levine, which uses a three-character “realistic” play Levine commissioned from Grote. The actors will move into the installation and perform Grote’s play over and over again on a loop. Among other things, it’s a riposte to those who claim that “experimental” playwrights do what we/they (depending on whether or not you think Grote’s experimental) do because we/they “can’t” write “normal” or “well-made” plays. Open rehearsal May 1. To learn more about the piece click here.
Originally published at H_NGM_N
A.D. Jameson is a pretty much a monster when it comes to corrupting familiar characters, folding, spindling and mutilating existing forms, and generally bankrupting your appreciation of traditional narrative. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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Fish Cake Attack was written and recorded in a single day for a short film entitled Monkey Hour, about a young woman with a graveyard shift slowly losing her mind and haunted by a strange gorilla. The film was written and directed by Adrianne Jorge as part of Video Salon Night, a semi-monthly experiment from the first few years of the new millenium in which a film was shot and edited in a single day with all in-camera edits. Many of the stories were bizarre pilots to shows would never see the light of day. A divorced couple cop buddy film featuring a senior citizen adoption crime ring for example, or a psychadelic rock group whose music is used as a weapon of mass destruction on the homeworld of an alien posing as their manager, and the Monkey Hour was no exception.
Most of these films included live soundtracks recorded on the premises in the days previous, and we have selected this particular song for its wonderful bone-chilling scream and because it is a prime example of the amateur aesthetic was the foundation for Video Salon Night. Fish Cake Attack was written and recorded by Annie Heringer (lead guitar & vox) and Dalton Eljer (guitar) of the Box Kites, as well as Corey Tatarczuk (bass), and Cathy Cathodic (drums). “My pussy’s black! Fish cake attack!”
To learn more about Monkey Hour and other films made at Exile as part of the Video Salon Night series, go here.
What devil possesses her?
Archibald has a little heart to heart with Poppy. The narrator is still going on about his covert powers. The man passed out in the puddle out front is just now coming to his senses. The headmistress uncovers two of her staff in a compromising position. What more could you want?
Mutable is proud to introduce the first American release by French artist Germain Caillet, also known as Paplib. It’s a truly captivating album that crackles with intrigue, holding back just enough to demand our attention, while still enfolding us in a pillow of warmth, emotion, and hallucinatory nostalgia. It’s a dreamlike sound that brings to mind contemporaries like Panda Bear or Juana Molina, and also has a timeless feel, taking cues from luminaries like The Silver Apples or Robert Wyatt.
Caillet, formally of the band Bellyache, plays everything on Cast and Costumes, and submerges us in a bath of sound that feels effortless and expansive. The surreal landscape of his songs are punctuated with arrangements that move from sparse to epic and back again, utilizing an arsenal of guitars, cellos, drums, lo-fi loops and his distinct voice. It’s clear that English is not Caillet’s native tongue, but he has adopted it for most of the album, and sings with brave abandon that is both endearing and transcendent. It adds to the otherworldliness of his sound, as though he is visiting us from planet France, and delivering an urgent message to the English-speaking world. The message seems hopeful, though there is a stream-of-consciousness flow to his songs that suggests this is more of an album of personal discovery, and there are no concrete messages at all. Paplib is a true visionary, navigating space and melody with a unique grace, creating an album that soothes and educates us with every listen.
All songs written, performed, and produced by Germain Caillet
Performed in Rennes, France
Cover art by Germain Caillet
If you haven’t had the opportunity to witness a Crank Sturgeon performance, let us fill you in on what you’re missing: imagine a lanky, largely naked man, hooded in a sort of paper-mâché fish head. A tangled bevy of wires emits from this fish man to a carefully arranged assortment of toys, tin cans, plastic tubes, a well-seasoned guitar, and probably something you’d never expect could emit a sound. What comes next is an inexplicable blend of theatrical frenzied fervor and earnest, emotional noise-making. His is a truly unique voice, straddling the world of noise and performance art.
Malcolm Felder became acquainted with Crank Sturgeon and the man behind it, Matt Anderson, while studying art in Boston, and were Mission Hill roommates for several years. In the years to follow, Anderson would hone his Sturgeon persona, tour the world, and distribute countless recordings of his sonic cacophonies and bizarre rantings, eventually setting up camp in the wilds of Harpswell Maine. Meanwhile, Felder moved to New York and began Lineland, an outlet for his instrumental electronic compositions, releasing a couple albums on Audiodregs, and recently touring the states with Animal Hospital. His music takes the listener on a journey to undiscoverable lands filtered through the synth-driven prism of his overarching vision.
As a hand behind Mutable Sound, Felder says he really wanted to release a Lineland album that was appropriate for Mutable. “I wanted something that breaks from the peaceful, wordless universe of Lineland, something more meandering and experimental.” he says, “Collaborating with Matt seemed like an exciting way to do that. Though it seems our approach is at opposite ends of the spectrum, there is a humanness to his brand of noise that I love, and working with his material was immense fun.” The album they’ve crafted bridges noise, melody, spoken word, and electronica, creating a world of music that can be at times infectious, at times challenging, at times funny, and at times sublime. As Crank Sturgeon says:
Back along (a year or two ago), there was an original version of this recording: a funny little sneaky-do that snuck its way under the covers as a cassette called, “do that plural”. The little beastie was a nasty bite; an amalgamation of four-track folk slubber, rude poems, bonks in the night, and veritable murmurs of aqueducts. Around this time, I’d likewise shot Malcolm the disc of these recordings, not thinking, and perhaps unblinking of what potential rebirth could emerge. Little did I know what curves of the earth Malcolm would interpret and discover in the clumps and frottage of lo-fi bruit and mumbles; finely inking his lands with lines and striations that took a bumpy cassette and pushed it through an extruder pellet device, giving you this shrill dance of oscillation and mirth. It would be an understatement to just say that I’m in awe of his final meltdown. Instead of emailing me a mere salmon grin, Malcolm has undone all the doing, and it’s an occasion I do not mind whatsoever.
Recorded in Harpswell ME and Chicago IL
Written, performed, and produced by Matt Anderson and Malcolm Felder
Cover art by Matt Anderson and Malcolm Felder
(We here at Mutable originally found the below manifesto in the excellent online journal Exquisite Corpse, put out by Andrei Codrescu and translated from the portuguese by Mary Ann Caws and Claudia Caliman. However, it was first published as Manifesto Antropófago in 1928 and is considered the starting point for the Brazilian modernist movement. It is a cry for return to the soil and freedom from colonial control. To learn more about the contemporary state of Brazil, a good place to start would be the remarkable film, City of God, a crime drama based on real events in the slum of Rio De Janeiro by the same name.)
Only Cannibalism unites us. Socially. Economically. Philosophically.
The unique law of the world. The disguised expression of all individualisms, all collectivisms. Of all religions. Of all peace treaties.
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