I am thinking about Tristan as a sort of Lear figure. I don’t think he has kids, like I said, but I like to think that he took a sort of pater familias approach to his board who have begun to try and force him out of power as anything but a figure head (with good reason as Tristan is a bit raving in a wind storm like Lear). He is obsessed with a new set of psychoactive pharmeceuticals that have the ability to created instant experience of emotion. He is also working on a form of chemical jungian knowledge… to convey archetypes through carbon based molecules… sort of chemical computer chips… you eat them and know how to porgram your VCR lets say.. but if you mix pills, you might know how to program your VCR but when you do, it makes you weep, or dance for joy. Tristan is melomaniacal about this innovation, his life’s work, and at times is a bit like a mad scientist threatening to dose the world into self destrucition, etc.

There is something about Quantum Mechanics and String Theory that is involved with the manufactureof these pharmeceuticals and so The Cern Collider coming on line is important to making the drugs work. Maybe they need a quark or two?

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Here are some finished by me Library collabs with Double You and Tara Ross (inner and cover). This is nice as Tara’s cover brings us back to the start of The Library Project:Magic and Loss. Some how the light in the park yesterday got me thinking about an F. Scott Fitzgerald story called: A Diamond As Big As The Ritz. I like to think that Tristan lives on such a stone… impossible wealth… not only hard assests, but knowledge… It is a sort of funny conceit to think that there is a mountain that is all crystal and that harmonizes with Pete Townsend’s mystical pure and easy note. It is particularly interesing in light of string theory’s notion of vibrations and the Cern Large Hadron Collider…least wise it’s interesting to me… A great trick would be to make it interesing to you, dear reader.

Now I picture M. Tristan as old, yes. But also, he may be suffering under the weight of disease, or the knoledge of a disease. I think he has a brain tumor and he is slowly loosing all the knowledge he fought so hard to gain. He is a trained man. Also he is loosing his mind…and the tracks.. His sanity and his knowlledge are starting to leave him and this is his motivation to grab onto young lovers… He may or may not be gay, but he defintitely has no heirs.

He has no children.
He is brilliant.
He is sick
He is given to moments of lucidity.
He is given to mad hallucinations
He is rich
no one tells him which is which because he is rich.

He is Nietzche at the end in the alps.
He is Zarathustra also…
He is Chaplin
He is Keaton
He is Groucho
He is Robin Williams on a good day and Steve Martin too.
He is Mao
He is Pinochet
He is Pynchon
He is Joyce
He is Hitler
He is Luther
He is Martin luther
He is Martin Luther King Jr.
He is Max Von Sydow.

Collabs from the Library:
godalways hungry and Tony Van denBooman and Bella and Brian Raszka

This is Ground Control To Major Dave, You’ve really made the grade and the papers want to know who’s shirt’s you wear, now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare.
For Here am I floating in my tin can, Far above the world. Los Angeles is Brown and I think I’m coming down….



This page is a book collab and scanner collab with Bullock Waterman of Los Angeles California: Dream Land USA. Takes us in a nice circle back to the early days of the project if you go to see the original book here.

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They sat down in an overpriced cafe and she pulled out a box of Silk Cut cigarettes and she offered him one and he took it and lit it and inhaled it and the nicotine went right to his addled head and gave him a whirling head spin so that he could barely hold the weight of it on his neck and the world went several colors of the rainbow and he exhaled and then took another drag and then they ordered coffee and smoked some more while waiting.

Thinking again of the Swiss Watch Vision, he asked her, “Did you ever see Coppla’s Apocalypse Now?”
“Sure,” She said. “I saw it when it came out in the theater.”
“You mean the Redux?” he said.
“No… The original, in the seventies.”
“But… How fucking old were you?”
“Hmmm… six?… I don’t know… My dad took me. He hardly ever got the day off back then and when he did, he liked to go to the movies and my mother always said, ‘take the children.’ So he did, but you know, she never told him what was an appropriate movie for a child and so he took us to the movies he wanted to see… war movies mostly. I think I slept through most of it… I saw The Deer Hunter and The Shining… all sorts of crazy shit for a toddler to see.”
“Jesus! I was a few years older than you and… well it was pretty fucking shocking movie.”
“Just a movie… no worse than Bambi at some level.”
“if you say so.”
“I wonder if you can get good Vietnamese food in this town?” she said. “I’ve got a craving for Pho.”
“True or Faux,” he joked.
“What?”
“Truffaut and the 400 Blows,” he was just rhyming now.
“Ever see A Clockwork Orange?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Now that was a fucking horror show. Nothing ever scared me like that… I can’t even watch Singing in the Rain without locking my front door just to be on the safe side.”
“Wise,” he said. “Just say no to Droogs.”
“Right,” she said sucking on the cigarette. “Droogs Kill.”

Book Collab with yours truly and Think Mule and a digi collab from a start by Tony Van den Boomen for The Library Project.

Video from Remy a French “transduction” of this: Text




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tanjun andMe-jade for The Library.
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They exit the train station and parade up the wide Geneva Boulevards past the chrome and the gold and the cheese and the chocolate and the watches and knives and the cheese. It reminds me of the start of this whole thing which was an opening in Dumbo under the gothic arches of the two bridges just after the dual steeple fell and gave way to the single protestant spire of Empire. He was out of her depth by the water taxi and she was in too deep. They hated eachother at first sight, but somehow wanted to fuck like wild animals and maybe spend the rest of their lives fighting and fucking at turns… but at that moment it was more about brunch and trying to fix the hangover from the cheap art wine at the opening. Had they met at the opening and maybe snuck off to her loft? Or had they only met on the ferry? I’m not certainn but it certainly refers to Whitman’s On Crossing Brooklyn Ferry and the idea was always that the ferry, at Fulton landing would somehow relate to the cable ferry at Basel and the way the cathedral looms over the Rhine with it’s double spires would echo in the conspicous absence of the twin towers… only leaving the gothic arches of the bridges.

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The book covers were started by your narrator and finished by Double You in England for The Library Project. I found the Video on Vimeo today and it seemed fated to go along with the cinema centric nature of todays book covers, plus the whale as a Kestone cops is almost too perfect to believe.
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