to that guy who sneezed 3 times during Charles Mansfield’s open mic set

Dear fellow
allergy sufferer, or
perhaps just rapidly
sickening sir,
your triple sneeze bonanza
has now been emblazoned
into my memory for all time,
because I recorded that song.

it was a new one by Chuck –
the one I wanted him to call “Liberating,
But” but he insisted on titling “New Joy”
when he released the studio version
a few weeks or months later –
so now in my mind every time
I hear it, I will pause for the sneezes,
curse you, anonymous man, and want
to angrily say, “Bless you!” in a passive
aggressive tone.

but then again, I’ve been known
to rudely shush my best friends
when they start talking to me
when I’m recording. on the one hand,
the audio is already marred, so
why not just let them talk,
and on the other, I’m starting to think
I must come off as a total dick. on
yet a third hand, they don’t know
how these things stick around
to haunt me. I will be hearing
myself shushing them
for the next 2 weeks, at least,
thanks to my “new additions”
iPod playlist.

which is worth more, in the long run,
the experience of the moment,
the documentary evidence of the moment,
or my relationships? when you
put it that way, there’s no contest.
I should either stop taping, or stop
having friends.

found in translation

to thank you
for everything you did
for me today, I made a little song
for you. in creating it
I had to contemplate
some very interesting
philosophical questions, like:

what does distance
sound like? (a laser
sound effect, reverberated and
run through a ringshifter.)
how does touch, both wanted and un-,
translate into music?
(a 1970’s arp, warped and pulsing,
afloat over a subsonic bass
like an airplane taking off
from very far away,
with some delicate bell
synths and a ghostly steel drum
plucking out a distinctly
creepy pattern.)

Continue reading found in translation