gee don’t I sound like king lear?

Well a house devided, etc.

Once I saw the changing of command on the USS Pittsburgh at Grotton, CT with my brother from a Bolex mother. When The Captain leaves the ship they blow a dog whistle and say: “Pittsburgh going Ashore.” It is as if the soul of the boat has left the boat. When The new Captain walks the gangplank, the dog whistle is blown in opposite progression and the Ensign speaks these magic jazz hand words: “Pittsburgh Coming Aboard!” and it is as if the boat is born again.

Me and Pat call melady Young Pas (or green onion in Korean, or Sly to the Midwesterners or Sylvie to you… etc.): Pittsburgh. She is the Captain my Captain. She is the queen of that little steel Swiss, but rusting Town in the middle of the Eastern Sea Board. I was throwing out all my old clothes yesterday and getting rid of all the wire and plastic hangers… nothing but wood is good quoath Pittsburgh and I concurred while wearing the buddhist Stettson and the silk guns and the Star Wars blasters still in the a tiny casket to be burried by the IRA somwhere beside the river Liffey. I tripped and fell upon a Bazooka shell full of old memories of Pittsburgh’s youth and there were steller shots of her as Stella amongst the stars and my street car named desire and some calling cards from old beaux and a shot of her leaning away from a dire wolf… him stealling kisses and trying to eat her heart out and I realize it is good to walk with pax but always have silk guns in a silk casket somewhere… the silent big stick as the Church on the Hill said, or was it The Mac daddy Author, or Ike? Yes Ike who I like if only because he said, “Beware the military industrial complex”… The king can speak the truth, but the wolves are still there… stealing kisses, and hearts, and gold, and souls.

I became quite green with jealousy looking at the explosive contents of the shell… and then I found a receipt for the first futon we ever shared and a letter I wrote to fair Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh when I was in the Tower of Pain and hats and song. It was not the most regal of things… a manic all night scrawl on yellow legal paper… but you know what? It was really a very romantic letter. It brought a single tear to my eye that dropped into the vast Atlantic… How can a shell hold such wealth I thought? For in that moment I realized that this was a contract signed thirteen years ago… So Why has it taken me so long to honor it and honor fair Pittsburgh?

… Because you see, I have been hiding in plain sight, playing the fool on the hill. Now it is time to wear the purple robes and take the crown that is mine. Today Pittsburgh. Tomorrow the world. It is my job to be her knight in shining armor coming to her emotional rescue on a fine Arab charger. It is my job to keep the dire wolves at bay. Hail Pittsburgh hail the Queen.

I was at Freddy’s the night Sly Fox left for Las Vegas and I gave two guys my moleskin and said, “Make me a drawing, buy me a beer…sort of as a joke…and I went outside to smoke… when I got back they had drawn this and bought me a magic hat #9… it is names of the superbowl champion (two years in a row) Steelers from the seventies when I used to wear the black and gold slicker to protect me from the hard rain…. Coin see dances coincidences…. They were Pittsburgher… friends from many moons ago… reunited in the city on a drunkes Spree… fiddle di di.

They watched him with an ever changing mood and played a sort of game, trying to guess who and what he was: Hero, or Villain? Mustache, or bow tie? He simply ate a light lunch of paté and then a tart and a new bottle of wine for each that he barely touched. By turns, Pat found him a charming gentleman and Patty saw him as a ruthless war profeteer, the type who sold ammo to the South Africans during Apartheid and he’d retort, “Well that’s simply business, dear. Repressing people takes a lot of ammo. Supply and demand.”
And she’d say, “I demand a level of morality.”
And He would concede her point and then she would say, “But he has such gentle eyes. Maybe he only makes chocolates?”
“Maybe he sells shoddy formula to Africans causing malnutrition when the mothers ought to just breast feed anyway? Maybe that’s what he does after the chocolates?”
“Maybe the mothers are too hungry to lactate,” she’d say. “The formula is the only chance those babies have…. But then why not feed the mothers with cheese or something?”
And he’d say, “But I do love his suit and look at those shoes and what’s that wine he’s drinking? Is it really Château d’Yquem? Oh but he’s having a plum tart… what a match. He has exquisite taste.”
“Taste for blood,” she’d say. “Like the Count of Dracula.”
And on and on it went. The old man was a neutral cypher but their lunch revolved around his inscrutability. They couldn’t read him at all, so all they did was try to read him and his very neutrality charged the atmosphere with conflict.

Highway image is from Double You at The Library in a weird fluke it seems like the urban mirror to my mountain Ring of Fire.

The autumnal video is from 2002, when NYC was more or less still terror town USA and ghosts were at every turn. I was being haunted by the ghost of my father who would show up in the form of Falcons from time to time (even at the windows of Manhattan high rises) to either scare or comfort me… never could tell which, but it was ominous and bizarre and the better half started calling hm Falconey, like I guess an Italian, or a freak show, or something and this was the one time I got him on tape. I Finally found it in the Willoughby acrhive and I’d been looking for it since the Alice in Wonderland Vision:
http://www.futureofthebook.org/itinplace/wp-content/archives/2006/11/map_key_stone_whale.html

The animated gif is the first five pages (the front matter) from two copies of the Penguin Moby Dick. Two copies so that you can get the front and verso. The books were given me by Ben Vershbow from The Institute and I’ve been procrastinating starting the animation project, but then yesterday Jason Ho (aka Eat A Bug) sent me a note: “Would you be interested in doing an animation about the whole idea of being “Half”…except you can only use 10 pictures…10 for J, the 10th letter in the alphabet, and the first letter of my name. The animation wouldn’t have to be 10 frames long, but only 10 pictures/paintings can be used to sketch an idea of what “Half” means to Alex Itin.”

I was going to use the heads from Battleship Potemkin, when I reealized it was time to hop on the Pequod instead. So I like to think of this as the opening logo of a movie… I don’t know, let’s say: Janus Pictures.

]]> http://futureofthebook.org/itinplace/2006/11/20/ginko_biloba_form_and_memory/ Tue, 21 Nov 2006 03:59:48 +0000 http://www.futureofthebook.org/itinplace/?p=802

The Amiens Cathderal comes by way of Mon Ami en France M. Remi. It should be rememberd that most of the actual length of the tunnels for the Cern collider are uder French territory, but most of the access if from the Neutral center of Eruopre, Geneva (where they speak Swiss French)… Any way, there is no doubt that these large scientific projects are the equivilent of great Cathedrals, and it is earie how so many of the forms echo. Am the only one hearing that electronic buzz? Is that cross section of the collider or a small model of infinity with two cruciforms? The inner schematic of the Cern Large Hadon (Double You and I have taken to calling it the Large Hadrion Wall) reminds me of a manual for threading a film projector and on the left hand node, notice the name: ALICE…. looking glass in deed.

]]>