Fascia
Contact by Email.
Below, find:
Bio.
Some more recent interviews, guest blog posts, etc.
For writers and readers.
Folks playing in the fascia in a way that may amuse you.
About me: I have over 200 publications of short stories, and poems, including several in magazines that gave awards such as Carolina Quarterly, where I won the Academy of American Poets Award, Cezanne's Carrot where I won two awards, Punkpen, The Iowa Journal of Literary Studies, and the Oblongata Award from Medulla Review
I obtained my MA in English from FSU and my MFA in writing from The University of Iowa Writing Program. I taught at both universities at the time, as well as at Memphis State. I teach Fiction Writing through UCLA Extension, and Experimental Fiction Writing though my own Academy online.
I live in Berkeley.
Below, find:
Bio.
Some more recent interviews, guest blog posts, etc.
For writers and readers.
Folks playing in the fascia in a way that may amuse you.
About me: I have over 200 publications of short stories, and poems, including several in magazines that gave awards such as Carolina Quarterly, where I won the Academy of American Poets Award, Cezanne's Carrot where I won two awards, Punkpen, The Iowa Journal of Literary Studies, and the Oblongata Award from Medulla Review
I obtained my MA in English from FSU and my MFA in writing from The University of Iowa Writing Program. I taught at both universities at the time, as well as at Memphis State. I teach Fiction Writing through UCLA Extension, and Experimental Fiction Writing though my own Academy online.
I live in Berkeley.
About
Hannah Warren's interview
Read Chris Moran's review at HTML GIANT.
SciFi Sundays with the High Priestess Guest Blog
guest post on fellow NP author Suzanna Burke's blog, Sooz Says Stuff, about Lucid Fiction and violence in literature.
Belinda Subraman interviews me on the radio for Gypsy Art Show
Discussing Experimental Fiction Interview by Sylvia Ramsey
For reviews of Watching the Window Sleep.
Read Chris Moran's review at HTML GIANT.
SciFi Sundays with the High Priestess Guest Blog
guest post on fellow NP author Suzanna Burke's blog, Sooz Says Stuff, about Lucid Fiction and violence in literature.
Belinda Subraman interviews me on the radio for Gypsy Art Show
Discussing Experimental Fiction Interview by Sylvia Ramsey
For reviews of Watching the Window Sleep.
What is a Chapbook?
Though this is a very old term referring to a hand-bound small book without a spine, it has taken on more connotations meaningful to the modern writing scene. Smaller literary presses, as opposed to the major mass produced commercial ones, create chapbooks, usually not expecting to sell a huge number of them. An author on the rise very often first publishes poems, stories, or excepts in magazines, then gathers some together that form a unified presentation.
The term "chapbook" tends to show that the author has literary aspirations, and expects his work to be seen within the context of current literature. It also means something to publishers the author may send a whole book to later, containing any or all of those same stories or poems. Publishers say it's fine for individual works to have appeared in magazines or in chapbooks. Some publishers specify how long the chapbook may be for that to apply. Some are lenient and allow 50 page chapbooks, but generally no longer than that. More commonly the allowance is 36 pages, which is more commonly the cut off point for chapbooks. Often chapbooks are used to introduce a writer's stories or poems and generate interest for later work, while the author continues to complete a full length book, or shop it around to publishers.
Other chapbooks are an end point. The author may never use the stories or poems again in a book. The more a chapbook has a common theme between stories and poems within it, drawn together in a cohesive and clever way, the more chances of being published it has, these days. Sometimes they are only one poem or story altogether. They are useful for a writer as part of a literary career, to keep new "books" available for the public, for the resume. They show to publishers that authors are serious, and they can gauge their likely success of full length books by the reception, particularly reviews, of the chapbooks. Some people self publish them, and some people only aspire to giving them to friends, so they can share their material and provide others pleasure.
Those not familiar with the literary process expected of authors as they advance their careers most often have never heard this term, might even hear it as "chatbook" being more more used to technology than ancient book binding practices. What is a literary fiction or poetry career, really? Most writers of those rather obscure artifacts don't expect to make a lot money from the books themselves, though they might qualify them for grants, fellowships, teaching jobs, awards, etc.. Some authors focus on making a living with this career. Others have lower expectations monetarily, but still need some status in order to be taken seriously by the literary writing community of critics, reviewers, other writers, readers, editors, publishers. Having a chapbook out is not enough in itself to be taken seriously enough perhaps, but it's a start. The overall reason for being taken seriously, for a literary writer in a small press, usually doesn't relate so much to large sales numbers, but in being heard. A writer whose voice is heard within the dialogue of literary fiction and poetry can therefore add some innovation, some unique voice, some compelling concept, or progression, within the conversation of ideas, which are anchored by the books themselves.
The term "chapbook" tends to show that the author has literary aspirations, and expects his work to be seen within the context of current literature. It also means something to publishers the author may send a whole book to later, containing any or all of those same stories or poems. Publishers say it's fine for individual works to have appeared in magazines or in chapbooks. Some publishers specify how long the chapbook may be for that to apply. Some are lenient and allow 50 page chapbooks, but generally no longer than that. More commonly the allowance is 36 pages, which is more commonly the cut off point for chapbooks. Often chapbooks are used to introduce a writer's stories or poems and generate interest for later work, while the author continues to complete a full length book, or shop it around to publishers.
Other chapbooks are an end point. The author may never use the stories or poems again in a book. The more a chapbook has a common theme between stories and poems within it, drawn together in a cohesive and clever way, the more chances of being published it has, these days. Sometimes they are only one poem or story altogether. They are useful for a writer as part of a literary career, to keep new "books" available for the public, for the resume. They show to publishers that authors are serious, and they can gauge their likely success of full length books by the reception, particularly reviews, of the chapbooks. Some people self publish them, and some people only aspire to giving them to friends, so they can share their material and provide others pleasure.
Those not familiar with the literary process expected of authors as they advance their careers most often have never heard this term, might even hear it as "chatbook" being more more used to technology than ancient book binding practices. What is a literary fiction or poetry career, really? Most writers of those rather obscure artifacts don't expect to make a lot money from the books themselves, though they might qualify them for grants, fellowships, teaching jobs, awards, etc.. Some authors focus on making a living with this career. Others have lower expectations monetarily, but still need some status in order to be taken seriously by the literary writing community of critics, reviewers, other writers, readers, editors, publishers. Having a chapbook out is not enough in itself to be taken seriously enough perhaps, but it's a start. The overall reason for being taken seriously, for a literary writer in a small press, usually doesn't relate so much to large sales numbers, but in being heard. A writer whose voice is heard within the dialogue of literary fiction and poetry can therefore add some innovation, some unique voice, some compelling concept, or progression, within the conversation of ideas, which are anchored by the books themselves.
How did these rascals supposedly meet Tantra?
John Clarity You were developing invisible fiber optics to transmit and receive subsonic data. I was a disembodied radio wave in search of a pathway...
Grant Hester I was hacking in to your voice mail....and well....your voice was the sweet salvation that pulled me from the muck and mire that was my life....I am reborn...
Tantra Bensko john, you were were alone, but not lonely, proud of your disembodiedness, not needy at all. but you knew, you knew the joys of being contained in a conduit, zooming along while being held lovingly by the fiber optics. i noticed your combination of adventuresomeness, independence, and vulnerability, and wanted to know you more. you spurred me on to keep developing, working hard into the night.
Tantra Bensko thank god for voice lessons as an adolescent. where would you be today if i hadn't had them, grant? i shudder to think.
Karan Garner i work for ABC Hospice and i was your fathers Aide that came to visit him ....
Owen Kaelin I was seeking a faith, something one can believe in, for me to fight. I wanted blood. I wanted freedom for all. I ran into a creature whispering *tantric play tantric play*. I thought: Play? *Play*? I don't play, I fight, I defeat and destroy, so that people can be free. I don't play. The voice had a body and the body now shouted: "PLAY ! PLAY ! PLAY!" I could not fight this monster. I hemorrhaged thinking of it. I lost consciousness, and when I awoke I awoke upon the pages of a journal, and someone was discussing with me the tenets of a new artistic order, a new manner of being, based on creation rather than destruction. A kind of Play. I chose to believe.
Paul Barnett I met you in a story that was being written, you were sitting in the first class section of a 747 bound for Rome listening to B-2 Time swing some Ray Charles on the Hammond B3 organ located in the piano bar. You were wearing Jackie O. dark glasses and I was two seats back folding paper origami quails that were running up and down the aisles feeding upon poppy seed falling from orange nova poppies rising from the sun.
Tiffany Millerbis So...I was sitting at the bar when you and two penguins walked in.....
Jeff Pistana I met Tantra when we were both seeking the nomination to be the next Republican governor of Alaska. We were told by the committee that we had to wrestle to the death for the nomination, but we became friends instead. And we lived happily ever after. The end.
Karen S. Elliott You were a part-time ghost and I was a witch at that haunted house in New Orleans.
Tamar Therese i met Tantra on the dance floor. she was spinning, twirling, dancing, jumping all over the place. i couldn't keep up with her!
Michelle Bernadette Button happy frog leaping with joy in finding a kindred spirit on a lily pad...
Tantra Bensko the lily pad almost sank from our jumping around, so we had to start jumping higher and lighter.
John Davis I was in a bar in Quahog, RI. I was just about to ask this fat guy why he only wore green pants when you walked in and grabbed everyone's attention. Yup, that's when I met you. :) Giggidy, giggidy!
Kathy Burkett I met Tantra when she entered the body of a cute white Chihuahua I found walking down our dirt road. I thought she was lost and ran to rescue her, but then the Chihuahua started talking. I'd never heard of Lucid Fiction, but the Chihuahua told me about this wonderful new niche of experimental literature, and I felt so enlightened. Then I took the Chihuahua to Moe's, where we both ate tofu tacos & she produced a book by Calvino out of her invisible pocket. Good times, those.
Tantra Bensko paul--the orange nova poppies rising from the sun have become my new guru, and i have to wear even darker sunglasses now, not sure you'd even recognize me these days. i'm very tan from gazing in their direction. in fact, i've become so dark, i'm an australian aborigine, and at times, i find myself folded into a kind of origami, and i believe it happens when you dream about me. do you think?
Michelle Bernadette Button sloshing along in the clamly marsh, hearing pearls of wisdom...
Jayson Leary I want to now look up the phrase 'orange nova poppies' in the google advanced image search and see what I find ? That phrase sparks curiousity .
Tantra Bensko the pearls became iridescently louder.
Michelle Bernadette Button wheeeeeeeee!!!
Greg M Nelsen met Tantra Bensko ...[censored]..., and we fell to the ground covered in (sweat?) writhing from the ecstasy. As my blurred vision began to clear, I realized a giant frog was about to eat me! Wait, it wasn't giant. I appear to be small --and --I'm a -- a fly of some kind, a lace winged fly, but even as the frog tongue shot toward me, I split down the middle in an explosion of black dust. As my consciousness cleared I found my self naked, alone on the edge of a pond several miles from where I last remembered being me.
Michael Alperstein I searched google for the most creative, outrageous, sexy, cutting edge photos and you were number one on the results!
Peter Johnstone I was charged with tracking you by "The Company" because of your subversive activities. I followed you into a snake handling holiness church in the back woods. You were speaking in tongues when I took my seat. Within seconds you noticed me, ran up to the open cage where the snakes were kept shouting "Liberate all entrapped vipers!" pronouncing entrapped in three syllables. You grabbed all the slithering serpents and ran out the door. As you fled you let one drop at my feet. I tried to crush it underfoot by stomping my heal in time to the pentecostal praise song and it bit me. I woke up speaking in tongues in a Tibetan sanctuary on a plush carpet the shade of gris de gris pink wine from the Languedoc. You were reclining with gentle concentration fixed at a player piano preparing it for a composition you called music for un-caged serpents and unprepared piano. You were placing a plumbers snake in it. My days in intelligence had reached their unceremonious dead end.
Owen Kaelin Jay: This is what I found in the second row, searching under "orange nova poppies": http://poppybalser.com/imgsize.asp?tn=13948_657439&x=250
Paul Barnett Tantra, it's true when I walk through my dreams I see folded paper crows with your name written on them in pencil swirling in the refection of your dark glasses. Black birds born of your ebony skin that sing softly of the messages sent back from the very end, from the impulsion of time; gentle reminders that we are to awaken from the big sleep.
Owen Kaelin I also found these...
http://www.patchtogether.com/media/designs/thumb2/TOY_1655_DEFAULT_4ab3026601bb6.jpg
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NxEpBMLYGjk/S2-v9BXHPaI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/0wPpd4-LYrA/s400/42889-Brass_Persimmon_Magenta.jpg
http://img17.imagevenue.com/aAfkjfp01fo1i-12678/loc400/28103_793_Kate_Moss__NOVA_UK_July_2000_3_123_400lo.jpg
...It's amazing she even survived!
Genelle Chaconas you see it all started one weekend in Tacoma around 1901 bastard of a cold Winter nearly freezing my balls off but them cattle weren't gonna drive themselves halfway homesick to Vegas and Chicago stopped myself at the loneliest little shake and stir diner out on the highway one midnight with a five o clock shadow only a mother could love if both of her eyes were put out there you were Tantra my sweetest of all serving up greasy sausage and pancakes never did you knowt he pain in me you subsided for only one night more and you know all these are lyrics to the worst country western ballad never sung
Mark Edmunds Tantra fell hopelessly in love with me after seeing me on television & pursued me across 9 galaxies before finally catching up with me & convincing me to watch her dance. It is a match made in Heaven!
Bill Bogert Night after night the technicians tucked me into a now familiar nest of wires and watched my progress through the lost city of Somnopolis. Attired like a florist's Mercury, Natalie Wood led me through the endless cemetery, down to the aurora's shore, where the dead gathered, waiting for the rising of the sun. Come. Come. Come. Floating on a lotus, cupped by the blue thighs of the Godhead, you struck my shoulder with the abbot's rod. A dog peed on my leg. Kwaatz.
David Lindsay I was in a state of deep meditation, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. Then, there was brilliant, orange light; and the light spoke, and said "My name is Tantra. Cookies, anyone?" This occurred 4.7 million years ago, and we've been fast friends ever since, except for that lull during my LSD period.
Artemis Asio Then the owl dashed itself against the glass, leaving this impression: @,@ . It was Tantra.
Mark Edmunds @Artemis: Yes, but left an impression on the glass or left an impression on the owl? ;-)
Owen Kaelin I'm sure the owl was the most impressed.
Artemis Asio In juvie lockdown. You were the blowtorch. I was the solvent. You extended the olive branch. I gave you my nudibranch. I unzipped your notochord while you jumped from the suicide seat, plummeting through orange clouds as xylophone players played madly on.
Peter Moon I was a security guard at a Monkees concert when Mickey Dolenz, subject to MK-ULTRA programming, stripped naked and tried to accost you. I restrained him until the police came and I was forever after your knight in shining armor.
And then we did the Sack-A-Lot Working. It was a race at a beach in St. Augustine where we got in potato gunny-sacks and raced to the finish line, a half mile away. The winner would get to act out all their sexual fantasies on the other one. When we got to the finish line, Tantra and I tied. We were exhausted and both collapsed from exhaustion which was compounded by dehydration. We went comatose and had several visions which we are still pulling out of our minds to this very day. A member of E Clampus Vitus appeared, talking about Atlantis. He was apparently spying on us but we spotted him and this drew blood from him. We did not intend to. They kicked him out of the Health Food store because we spent abudantly and he was there to spy on the SACK-A-LOT data. This was followed by the Cliff House or Camera Obscura Working.
Tantra replies: one of the visions i'm still hovering and sliding out of my subconscious from the race dehydration coma is this: somewhere in time, a strange E appeared. no one knew what it was, as there was no written language that included it. it began watching people and following them around. it began asking for ice.
people didn't really have ice. so it went EEEEEEE!!! at them and they decided they'd damn well better get some ice.
i at that moment of near heat-stroke, cycled back to become the first person who figured it out, from my future knowledge of esoteric freezers. i tamed the E with magical ice. how did i do it? i became one with ice, throughout all time and place. i became one with frozen.
and that's how i came out of my coma at the race, and did ice-play with Peter Moon, dripping ice from my nipples onto his chest which i had opened to the fresh air, ripping back his shirt. and he awoke, and became such as he is today.
Rand Burgess From the amount of neural toxins pumping through the dashboard on the car ride on along the cost of Australia should have made you completely forget all about the meeting with myself and Mr. Jonnah. I'd like to keep it that way.
Grant Hester I was hacking in to your voice mail....and well....your voice was the sweet salvation that pulled me from the muck and mire that was my life....I am reborn...
Tantra Bensko john, you were were alone, but not lonely, proud of your disembodiedness, not needy at all. but you knew, you knew the joys of being contained in a conduit, zooming along while being held lovingly by the fiber optics. i noticed your combination of adventuresomeness, independence, and vulnerability, and wanted to know you more. you spurred me on to keep developing, working hard into the night.
Tantra Bensko thank god for voice lessons as an adolescent. where would you be today if i hadn't had them, grant? i shudder to think.
Karan Garner i work for ABC Hospice and i was your fathers Aide that came to visit him ....
Owen Kaelin I was seeking a faith, something one can believe in, for me to fight. I wanted blood. I wanted freedom for all. I ran into a creature whispering *tantric play tantric play*. I thought: Play? *Play*? I don't play, I fight, I defeat and destroy, so that people can be free. I don't play. The voice had a body and the body now shouted: "PLAY ! PLAY ! PLAY!" I could not fight this monster. I hemorrhaged thinking of it. I lost consciousness, and when I awoke I awoke upon the pages of a journal, and someone was discussing with me the tenets of a new artistic order, a new manner of being, based on creation rather than destruction. A kind of Play. I chose to believe.
Paul Barnett I met you in a story that was being written, you were sitting in the first class section of a 747 bound for Rome listening to B-2 Time swing some Ray Charles on the Hammond B3 organ located in the piano bar. You were wearing Jackie O. dark glasses and I was two seats back folding paper origami quails that were running up and down the aisles feeding upon poppy seed falling from orange nova poppies rising from the sun.
Tiffany Millerbis So...I was sitting at the bar when you and two penguins walked in.....
Jeff Pistana I met Tantra when we were both seeking the nomination to be the next Republican governor of Alaska. We were told by the committee that we had to wrestle to the death for the nomination, but we became friends instead. And we lived happily ever after. The end.
Karen S. Elliott You were a part-time ghost and I was a witch at that haunted house in New Orleans.
Tamar Therese i met Tantra on the dance floor. she was spinning, twirling, dancing, jumping all over the place. i couldn't keep up with her!
Michelle Bernadette Button happy frog leaping with joy in finding a kindred spirit on a lily pad...
Tantra Bensko the lily pad almost sank from our jumping around, so we had to start jumping higher and lighter.
John Davis I was in a bar in Quahog, RI. I was just about to ask this fat guy why he only wore green pants when you walked in and grabbed everyone's attention. Yup, that's when I met you. :) Giggidy, giggidy!
Kathy Burkett I met Tantra when she entered the body of a cute white Chihuahua I found walking down our dirt road. I thought she was lost and ran to rescue her, but then the Chihuahua started talking. I'd never heard of Lucid Fiction, but the Chihuahua told me about this wonderful new niche of experimental literature, and I felt so enlightened. Then I took the Chihuahua to Moe's, where we both ate tofu tacos & she produced a book by Calvino out of her invisible pocket. Good times, those.
Tantra Bensko paul--the orange nova poppies rising from the sun have become my new guru, and i have to wear even darker sunglasses now, not sure you'd even recognize me these days. i'm very tan from gazing in their direction. in fact, i've become so dark, i'm an australian aborigine, and at times, i find myself folded into a kind of origami, and i believe it happens when you dream about me. do you think?
Michelle Bernadette Button sloshing along in the clamly marsh, hearing pearls of wisdom...
Jayson Leary I want to now look up the phrase 'orange nova poppies' in the google advanced image search and see what I find ? That phrase sparks curiousity .
Tantra Bensko the pearls became iridescently louder.
Michelle Bernadette Button wheeeeeeeee!!!
Greg M Nelsen met Tantra Bensko ...[censored]..., and we fell to the ground covered in (sweat?) writhing from the ecstasy. As my blurred vision began to clear, I realized a giant frog was about to eat me! Wait, it wasn't giant. I appear to be small --and --I'm a -- a fly of some kind, a lace winged fly, but even as the frog tongue shot toward me, I split down the middle in an explosion of black dust. As my consciousness cleared I found my self naked, alone on the edge of a pond several miles from where I last remembered being me.
Michael Alperstein I searched google for the most creative, outrageous, sexy, cutting edge photos and you were number one on the results!
Peter Johnstone I was charged with tracking you by "The Company" because of your subversive activities. I followed you into a snake handling holiness church in the back woods. You were speaking in tongues when I took my seat. Within seconds you noticed me, ran up to the open cage where the snakes were kept shouting "Liberate all entrapped vipers!" pronouncing entrapped in three syllables. You grabbed all the slithering serpents and ran out the door. As you fled you let one drop at my feet. I tried to crush it underfoot by stomping my heal in time to the pentecostal praise song and it bit me. I woke up speaking in tongues in a Tibetan sanctuary on a plush carpet the shade of gris de gris pink wine from the Languedoc. You were reclining with gentle concentration fixed at a player piano preparing it for a composition you called music for un-caged serpents and unprepared piano. You were placing a plumbers snake in it. My days in intelligence had reached their unceremonious dead end.
Owen Kaelin Jay: This is what I found in the second row, searching under "orange nova poppies": http://poppybalser.com/imgsize.asp?tn=13948_657439&x=250
Paul Barnett Tantra, it's true when I walk through my dreams I see folded paper crows with your name written on them in pencil swirling in the refection of your dark glasses. Black birds born of your ebony skin that sing softly of the messages sent back from the very end, from the impulsion of time; gentle reminders that we are to awaken from the big sleep.
Owen Kaelin I also found these...
http://www.patchtogether.com/media/designs/thumb2/TOY_1655_DEFAULT_4ab3026601bb6.jpg
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NxEpBMLYGjk/S2-v9BXHPaI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/0wPpd4-LYrA/s400/42889-Brass_Persimmon_Magenta.jpg
http://img17.imagevenue.com/aAfkjfp01fo1i-12678/loc400/28103_793_Kate_Moss__NOVA_UK_July_2000_3_123_400lo.jpg
...It's amazing she even survived!
Genelle Chaconas you see it all started one weekend in Tacoma around 1901 bastard of a cold Winter nearly freezing my balls off but them cattle weren't gonna drive themselves halfway homesick to Vegas and Chicago stopped myself at the loneliest little shake and stir diner out on the highway one midnight with a five o clock shadow only a mother could love if both of her eyes were put out there you were Tantra my sweetest of all serving up greasy sausage and pancakes never did you knowt he pain in me you subsided for only one night more and you know all these are lyrics to the worst country western ballad never sung
Mark Edmunds Tantra fell hopelessly in love with me after seeing me on television & pursued me across 9 galaxies before finally catching up with me & convincing me to watch her dance. It is a match made in Heaven!
Bill Bogert Night after night the technicians tucked me into a now familiar nest of wires and watched my progress through the lost city of Somnopolis. Attired like a florist's Mercury, Natalie Wood led me through the endless cemetery, down to the aurora's shore, where the dead gathered, waiting for the rising of the sun. Come. Come. Come. Floating on a lotus, cupped by the blue thighs of the Godhead, you struck my shoulder with the abbot's rod. A dog peed on my leg. Kwaatz.
David Lindsay I was in a state of deep meditation, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. Then, there was brilliant, orange light; and the light spoke, and said "My name is Tantra. Cookies, anyone?" This occurred 4.7 million years ago, and we've been fast friends ever since, except for that lull during my LSD period.
Artemis Asio Then the owl dashed itself against the glass, leaving this impression: @,@ . It was Tantra.
Mark Edmunds @Artemis: Yes, but left an impression on the glass or left an impression on the owl? ;-)
Owen Kaelin I'm sure the owl was the most impressed.
Artemis Asio In juvie lockdown. You were the blowtorch. I was the solvent. You extended the olive branch. I gave you my nudibranch. I unzipped your notochord while you jumped from the suicide seat, plummeting through orange clouds as xylophone players played madly on.
Peter Moon I was a security guard at a Monkees concert when Mickey Dolenz, subject to MK-ULTRA programming, stripped naked and tried to accost you. I restrained him until the police came and I was forever after your knight in shining armor.
And then we did the Sack-A-Lot Working. It was a race at a beach in St. Augustine where we got in potato gunny-sacks and raced to the finish line, a half mile away. The winner would get to act out all their sexual fantasies on the other one. When we got to the finish line, Tantra and I tied. We were exhausted and both collapsed from exhaustion which was compounded by dehydration. We went comatose and had several visions which we are still pulling out of our minds to this very day. A member of E Clampus Vitus appeared, talking about Atlantis. He was apparently spying on us but we spotted him and this drew blood from him. We did not intend to. They kicked him out of the Health Food store because we spent abudantly and he was there to spy on the SACK-A-LOT data. This was followed by the Cliff House or Camera Obscura Working.
Tantra replies: one of the visions i'm still hovering and sliding out of my subconscious from the race dehydration coma is this: somewhere in time, a strange E appeared. no one knew what it was, as there was no written language that included it. it began watching people and following them around. it began asking for ice.
people didn't really have ice. so it went EEEEEEE!!! at them and they decided they'd damn well better get some ice.
i at that moment of near heat-stroke, cycled back to become the first person who figured it out, from my future knowledge of esoteric freezers. i tamed the E with magical ice. how did i do it? i became one with ice, throughout all time and place. i became one with frozen.
and that's how i came out of my coma at the race, and did ice-play with Peter Moon, dripping ice from my nipples onto his chest which i had opened to the fresh air, ripping back his shirt. and he awoke, and became such as he is today.
Rand Burgess From the amount of neural toxins pumping through the dashboard on the car ride on along the cost of Australia should have made you completely forget all about the meeting with myself and Mr. Jonnah. I'd like to keep it that way.