Sunday, December 05, 2004


Saturday night I was walking on my way to meet friends for dinner (at Deep Sushi(great photos in that link)) when I was distracted by sound and a shiny, non-descript storefront. It sounded like Salsa to me. I opened the door and it was like when you open a portal to another time and space. In a tiny basement, an entire 10-piece band was playing Cuban Salsa. The center of the basement was packed with older couples (women in red backless dresses, men in striped suits) dancing wildly surrounded by a crowd of admirers rocking back and forth to the music. The little basement was alive and the whole thing had a sense of spontaneity to it, as if this had all erupted suddenly and was apt to disappear. Sure enough, when I went by later that night to show some friends, all we found was a sleepy basement bar with a few people idly playing around a large pool table. It could have all been imagined by me but luckily I managed to snap a couple pictures with my cameraphone.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004



I am cheered up by the strange little nonsense plays of Jodorowsky. The Panic plays are pure fun. His films on the other hand are pure strangeness. Either way, his work is undiluted. I downloaded some of the plays online but now I cant seem to find the source again. Here's an excerpt from Cabaret Tragico:

D : ¡Insultame para que me enoje!
A : ¡Cochino! ¡Puerco! ¡Chancho! ¡Cerdo!
D : ¡Mas insultos!
A : ¡Cerdo! ¡Chancho! ¡Puerco! ¡Cochino!
D : ¡Mas aun!
A :¡Puerchino! ¡Cercho! ¡Chanco!
D : No es bastante, no estoy enojado.
A : No conozco mas insultos...
D : No importa, el tono es lo que cuenta, no el concepto. Dicho con furia todo es insulto.
A : Comprendo...¡Papa frita! ¡Bicicleta verde! ¡Telescopio! ¡Microscopio! ¡Corbata! ¡Tomate! ¡Cereza! ¡Boton! ¡arbol! ¡Arbusto! ¡Florcita! ¡Pajarito! ¡Mi amigo!

*Dictionary of the Khazars

I'll admit I was intrigued by this book when I heard that it came in both a male and a female edition. This is a fantastic world and a book I'd recommend. I bought the female edition.

*Marc Saporta's Composition #1

I tracked down a copy of this on a whim. I like the idea behind the work even as i expect to be dissapointed in the execution. A stack of pages, to be shuffled first then read in this arbitrary order. Here's the thesis:

The reader is requested to shuffle these pages like a deck of cards; to cut, if he likes, with his left hand, as at a fortuneteller's. The order the pages then assume will orient X's fate.

For the time and order of events control a man's life more than the nature of such events. Certainly there is a framework which history imposes: the presence of a man in the resistance, his transfer to the Army of Occupation in Germany, relate to a specific period. Similarly, the events that marked his childhood cannot be presented in the same way as those which he experienced as an adult.

Nor is it a matter of indifference to know if he met his mistress Dagmar before or after his marriage; if he took advantage of Helga at the time of her adolescence or her maturity; if the theft he has committed occurred under cover of the resistance or in less troubles times; if the automobile accident in which he has been hurt is unrelated to the theft -- or the rape -- or if it occurred during his getaway.

Whether the story ends well or badly depends on the concatenation of circumstances. A life if composed of many elements. But the number of possible compositions is infinite.

(Note: I wrote this quickly after dashing into a wireless coffe shop (Mission Creek) after having dinner across the street at Herbivore on Valencia St.)