A couple of new ones:

(This is the ghost of ancient solstice chasing two of the subconscious boys out of town. They are being exploded by a spell. The ground is full of golden turds.)

(Laurie dreaming of a smart duck dreaming of Laurie. Incidentally, did you know that ducks can put half their brain to sleep at a time, and sleep in rows, so that the two ducks on the end of either side of the row have half a brain asleep and are look outs?)

One of my favorite essays is by Mike Kelley

Brechtian Theatre Techniqes

After hearing psychedelic music I became a rock music fan and went to many concerts. Two concerts changed everything for me: One was a concert by Sun Ra at the Ann Arbor Blues and Jass Festival, and the other was a concert by Iggy and the Stooges at a small biker bar in Wayne, Michigan.

The two shows were quite different. Sun Ra's shows at this time were huge, showy and spectacular. The stage was filled with tons of equipment and his "arkestra," as well as dancers, and props. The aesthetic was a mixture of African, exotica, big band, science fiction, Greek chorus, and political rally. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. The audience would be excited into a dancing frenzy by throbbing African-style drumming, then Sun Ra-or Mr. Mystery, as he would sometimes call himself-would start to fuck with your head, shifting at breakneck speed from schmaltzy big-band arrangements to strange neo-Egyptian poetry and long nonsense chants, to weird skits about "outer space employment agencies." You were constantly being asked to abruptly shift gears. At one point you might be swept up bodily only to dropped on your ass by twenty minutes of harsh, electronic white noise. It was the most intellectually and physically demanding show I have ever seen. Afterward I climbed a fence, got backstage and met Sun Ra-he was very approchable. When asked how his show differed from James Brown's equally elaborate, but more pleasure-oriented show, Sun Ra replied, "James Brown gives the people what they want, I give them what they need." 1973

I braved hitchhiking from Ann Arbor through to a particularilt redneck rural area outside Detroit during an intense winter snowstorm to see the Stooges. When I arrived at the club I found it to be a small biker bar. I was the first one there. Passing the time, I asked the bouncer (a huge, fat biker) whether he had ever seen the Stooges. "No," he said, "but if the prick throws up on stage, I'm going to kick his ass." When the Stooges arrived, Iggy was dressed in a ridiculous jazz dancer's outfit, a kind of leotard with a spangle skirt. His eyes were ringed sloppily with eyeliner and a cigarette drooped from his lips. His whole demeanor said "fuck you." I could feel the current of hatred spreading through the bikers.

Iggy is the total front man, the rest of the band barely moves. The stand stiff and erect like store-window dummies, their faces blank. They are the perfect foil, all eyes push to Iggy, who is the master of body gesture. Every move is charged and his moronic, contorted dancing seems inspired-like and acrobat possessed by the spirit of an epilectic Jerry Lewis. The show starts off simply enough, a few upbeat rock tunes that get the crowd going. Iggy incited the audience to respond to him, gets them heated up-THEY WANT IGGY. Then all of a sudden he stops. He singles out a girl pushed up against the stage, a second earlier he had been gesturing to her, enticing her. The room is silent. "Get this bitch out of here. She tried to touch me! We won't play unless she is removed." The tension starts to build, she moves out of sight. Then Iggy asks, "What do you want to hear?" The crowd yells back an incomprehensible roar of song titles. "Oh, 'Louie Louie,'" and the band launches into 'Louie Louie.'

"Louie Louie" was a slap in the face to the audience. But they politely suffered through it, maybe even good-naturedly hopped and hollered a little bit. Then Iggy asks again, "What do you want to hear?" The same roar comes back. "Oh. 'Louie Louie,'" and the band tears into "Louie Louie" a second time. "Louie Louie" was played three times in a row. The audience was starting to get antsy. The band does another rocker and the audience regains its faith, only to have Iggy pull some other disruptive stunt. He is an amazing performer, I have never seen better. He plays the audience like a fish. They were in the palm of his hand. They would suffer insult after insult, have their faces rubbed over and over again in their own complicity and come running back for more. This doesn't sound like much after fifteen years of punk music where these punk antics are the norm, but Iggy invented this stuff.

After about five or six songs a big biker shouted, "Hey! Poodle boy..." and hit Iggy with an egg. The next thing I saw Iggy doing a belly flop in the audience, and a riot broke out. A real, traditional biker-bar fistfight. The placed was cleared within fifteen minutes, chairs and tables overturned. The lights were up, the band had run out the door, and I was left standing there babbling "What happened?" It was the best piece of theater I have ever seen.

Everything of major importance I know about performing I learned from these two concerts. 1974