FLUXLIST: Seem Monkey
Seem Monkey Snore the ecir blackage in your elbuod tirw yr pile freezing in the tsurc account Floor the llip snicker in your sselstnap lwarc yr bile snowing in the epahs jester Sore the tahs fishing in your gnideeps dum yr file sinking in the pmihc muscle Door the pmuh slapping in your gnippots rettam yr dial throating in the enot cluster John M. Bennett __ Dr. John M. Bennett Curator, Avant Writing Collection Rare Books Manuscripts Library The Ohio State University Libraries 1858 Neil Av Mall Columbus, OH 43210 USA (614) 292-3029 [EMAIL PROTECTED] www.johnmbennett.net ___
FLUXLIST: testing
testing testing? wan to tree floor Oh Odin's Underpants its a B(owman)LOG http://bowmansramblings.blogspot.com/ Visit the Freeformfreakout Organisation Online: www.freeformfreakoutorganisation.net Chucking a spaniel in the works since 1986 or 7 or maybe 8 (we don't remember...)
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
Not this old chestnut again! Michael --- suse [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: - Original Message - From: Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 9:26 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
Not this old chestnut again! Michael --- suse [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: - Original Message - From: Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 9:26 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she
FLUXLIST: Wo mass oCa Four tries!
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RE: FLUXLIST: reactions
Awesome Dawg!! Allan RevichThe Fluxus Bloghttp://www.digitalsalon.com/weblog/ From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of [EMAIL PROTECTED]Sent: Sunday, June 05, 2005 10:50 PMTo: FLUXLIST@scribble.comSubject: Re: FLUXLIST: reactions The Monterey Fluxus show is up and it has been so fun to see the reaction-some of it hilarious in fact. The staff that works at the mall has been pressed into action to clarify just exactly what Fluxus is to the folks that come by. They decided to try and use my "What is Fluxus" folder to explain and were driven deeper into confusion--all to my personal delight of course. You will remember that the "What is Fluxus" folder contains all of your responses to "what does Fluxus mean to me". Madawg
Re: FLUXLIST: more reactions
today I handed one of the staff members at the antique mall one of Reid Wood's cards he sent for the show. The card reads, "when you recieve this card give it to someone else". The whole staff treated it as if it were a hot potato and it finally ended up with the cleaning woman who happened to be going out the door. Dawg
FLUXLIST: FW: On transit. Visual narratives in North America
Saludos. *** BIBIANA PADILLA MALTOS AVTEXTFEST general coordinator Paseo de Vista Hermosa #625 Mexicali, B.C., 21240 MEXICO 233 Paulin Ave. PMB. 7263 Calexico, Ca., 92231-2646 U.S.A. + 52 686 564 5999 Original Message Follows To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: On transit. Visual narratives in North America Date: Mon, 6 Jun 2005 11:48:10 -0700 On transit.Visual narratives in North America. Opening June 20th at 7.30pm. Baja California's Center of Arts in Mexicali (México) Catalog may be ordered or downloaded at http://www.cruncheditores.tk/ The word transit has a sense of double meaning. In first instance it refers to the pass on public space, to travel by scales. In an indirect form is related with Latin transitione, denoting a change of state, a modification, a sudden variation in terms of reasoning or expression, a space of specific intermediation. When we speak about the border culture, the notion of transitgets dressed with both senses and aims towards the construction of a contextual frame that allows to glimpse dynamics not necessarily visible in regards to the invention and re-invention of the every day things. Facing the globalization, the border must be think as an extended way, reproduced in each one of the processes that constitute the systems of symbolic and material interchange. The almost mythologic speech of the cultural resistance hides the nature of the things and in special the transit of them. The present exhibition not only represents an approach of the term, but also the form in which the sense of the North America is constructed. Although the field of the arts has been overdressed with a relative autonomy, it persists in works a feedback with respect to its own contexts and consensuses. On-Transit. Visual narratives in North America reunites six young, original artists of the three countries that conform the NAFTA region. More than a revision of the latest tendencies, is a sample of the individual restlessness of the artists, whose tie point in conceptual terms is the idea of transit in terms of the real and the possible, what corresponds to the social surroundings and its imaginary understood like costories. The sample explores identity and other closely linked questions about the development of the communities and the landscape, but also hedonistic perspectives in regards the notion of traveling and movement. In formal terms, the exhibition integrates a series of techniques that go from the drawing to the electronic graph, from the photography to the performance, the installation and the intervention. Besides the work of Bibiana Padilla Maltos, Camille Turner, Katie Herzog, Marc LeBlanc, Anne SARAH Johnson and Carlos Adolfo Gutiérrez Vidal, the reader/public will find the approaches critical of Sobaz Benjamín, Alejandro Espinoza, Meeka Walsh and Jeff M. Ward; an extended dialogue that pretends to extend in the field of the arts and complements with literary perspectives, travel journals and the opinion of Tim Dunn, Josh Kun, Jerome Rothenberg, Mark Weiss, Gabriel Trujillo Muñoz and Lorne Roberts.
