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the lab report took a two-year siesta but it's now it's been awakened by popular demons. the point of the lab report is to lend an aura of movement to the group Labyrinth, as well as to inform. but, since the editor (I) is currently the sole contributor, lab report is also a kind of mental project(ion) of mine. I however am very happy when other people want to 1) write a review of a recent Labyrinth event (which is strange if you happened to be participating, but while critics are lacking...) 2) inform the slowly increasing recipients of the lab report of events, plays, readings, etc. (see the section calender), 3) offer up a poem of yours, interpret somebody else's poem or write any old thing which you feel somehow has to do with Labyrinth, lab report or bricklaying.
once again Labyrinth teamed up with the 1. Wiener Lesetheater in a reading of poems and playing of songs from Allen Ginsberg - one year after his death. overall the reflective element prevailed, that time in between Allen's ascent to Nirvana, the Rolling Stone article where pop stars wrote bad poetry to him, the appearance of his head on the MTV turning to the tune ≥Ballad of the Skeletons≤ and the careful planning and rereading and selecting the exact skeleton to occupy and make dance with Allen's or Allen's and the translator's words chattering to the beat.
twice the eternal phone call came, often we were reminded of our bad habits or escape mechanisms or further steps away from emptiness (still feeding the head). often imperfect and deeply spiritual sounds made us realize the difference between Allen's and our state, the very squeeks and honks and deep heart tributes forming the glue -- the guru element. since almost 30 people took part in this event (have readers and audience finally reached equilibrium?) it would require a feuilleton (?)to review this event, which i don't want to write. if you want my personal view it's this: Allen Ginsberg was one of the greatest socialites who ever lived. loving the interaction with people as much as his selective pinponting and lamenting of social evil, he was embraced in the hearts and heads of many. poetically, i've always appreciated the raw courage and the attention to the obvious in Allen's poetry (surprise mind poetics), the music and the freshness it continues to have.
a(nother) poem for Allen:
going to the world of the dead others fight for their piece of the pie ginsberg's surfing my head human resources something to buy all intertwined in a ballad creating a world of insipient death where everything gets said racing in cars taking our breath livin in the city of the dead then you hope it's all a joke all asleep in affluent beds a bad dream from which you awoke dreaming as a clock ticks ahead still vaporized demons of the night work makes sick, the artist said dance on horizons, in death delight eyelids in the sun like lead weight don't look now --you're at the gate
the cafe inspektion (theobaldgasse 10, 1060) is a subterrainean nightclub with a cultural program. this is a place where the planned series of Labyrinth (2-3 persons per night) readings could take place.
may 7th at the abovementioned place - inspektion, there will be a Labyrinth group reading (as a rehearsal of group poems for the 9th) and an open microphone event following this. this is also the PROMOTIONSFEST for Lisa a.k.a Dr. A. Void. SO DON'T MISS IT!
may 9th at cafe pruckl - corner of the ring and wollzeile in the first district - Labyrinth will perform a reading called mindscapes. bring your friends and neighbors.
Yeats: The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving his slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born.
this Yeats poem prophecied the coming of rock and roll. in a world where commerce has numbed the rich ear while the poor both willing- and unwillingly fight death (with passion) we hear a rumbling. and what sphinx may arise from the ash of a rock burn out? his name is harry perry: if it ain't hard rock don't do it, don't let them put you through it, ain't no way to confuse it. That's aahhhhaaaahhhaaalllllll there is to it!
© Labyrinth 2000
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