Ceci n'est pas une Tribe's topics - tribe.net

StarFish Journal Seeking Submissions!

2008-06-28T22:50:19Z

it is almost time for a new issue of The StarFish Journal, and we are actively seeking submissions of poetry and visual art

if you have anything you'd like to submit for consideration, please send it to:

ignomat@hotmail.com

http://www. starfishpoetry. net

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 1 reply

Legend of the Now

2008-06-28T15:56:30Z

The scent of her reached Loplop first. Read her lines perfectly...

He watched her time fall to the seasons, then decided suddenly against it. He vowed to desire the smell of forever once she had opened up to him completely, revealed more of the night's wonders. The stars didn't feel much like speaking through the smoke which had formed between the breath of her words, the pallid sonata circumvented each and every time.

Islands were here now, wandering absently around Loplop's master bedroom. Their claws unfurled at a glance, sang light at the question collpsed between her legs.

Her ambition was naked for all to see
Not that she cared much
A walking presence the transgression
allowed to unfold
Presented her Loplop's blatant display of the invisible

The pulse of madness overtook them, threw lines into her beaded purse, to be trawled out later when missing. The space between them grew. They drank a method for acting, but it slipped away mechanically. Florid verse out of the wire glass, beside the reconstructed vestiges of decay clearly visible around her tightly clenched knees. She sank to the wind. Loplop threw his lust directly in her path.

Her passage was seventy times three
Minus a tornado
and the loving grace of God

Came straight for her, swept her mind across the floor
The kiss was an elegy
It made blood flow down her back

Loplop, sensing that the reading was over, hurriedly picked up the deck. Divinity flashed in his eyes as he bowed, alloted the sand a taste, a lapsed performance he found in a secret manuscrpit rescued from the past. His leg glanced by a jutting curve in her scroll powers. He awoke, his blackness bitten through with the timeless riddle the dream kept repeating endlessly to him. Feeling he deserved something for his trouble, he slipped the veil from her soul, taking extra time to savor the piano in her loins. The camera bolted, a flaming presence faltering at the mere thought of the music tracking his heart.

Somehow time did not occur between them
Dropped a name into her decency
glided off the strings in her veins

Loplop felt the stirrings plant themselves into his mouth. Loplop wasted its breath on him now, though. An improvisation involving light, the nuclear bath of a million surrounded the crime, as well as his hope. He swathed himself directly, andleft no directions smeared on the grime. Her perfume came undone, altered his secondary glances toward her irrevocably. Liquid exploitation unhinged the evil that dared dance on the soil required for quick access. Following Loplop's authoritative tone, the lips quivered before making a dash for their finale.

She bridged the beginning, clambered like a wound onto Loplop's lap. The conversation was clearly over, so he piled the holes in her skin into the top drawer, an infinite heat tolerant of the wheel. The tire blew, making a diagonal sound, silence forgetting to pick up the beat. His duty done, she slowly moved her languid gaze over his entire mythology, excoriating his desperate need for communion, a sacred pass.

The millennium melted them, carved defiance and civilized poison into their last attempt. Plasma fell from the nooks and crannies that raced by, robbing them of their shadows. Loplop felt it was now safe to resume ripping at the sun's eyes. She resumed her post guarding the flowers of Eden, the wonders of exclusion.

Metal searched for them on the roof
In the streets the moon tried to sleep
scrawled the legend of now on the sky
The quantum dissected the trellis, slid along her shins. Loplop seized the opportunity and stretched his tears to their breaking point, hoping to abolish dialectics and grand narratives for once and forever. A coin fell from his bitter and fetid psyche, danced along the edges of the carpet of the landing-strip before alighting on the frost of the window. Amusement soaked from her lips, while Loplop busily fingered nothing.

Studying the graceful lines of her shoulders, unencumbered now by Catholic repression, Loplop shot the full load of his naked, tortured torso, then laughed as it disappeared into the television. She, mysteriously enough, cried out from the depths of sleep. An air of nebulous viral dread covered them both. At the count of nine, her river ran dry, emitted phantasms and yellow silk.

http://jaanrr.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 5 replies

flarf

2008-04-12T18:44:34Z

http://youtube.com/watch?v=HZI8DsouAK8

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

StarFish Journal

2007-12-01T01:52:53Z

just letting people know that the latest issue of The StarFish Journal has gone live as a PDF file, and that the all-new visual gallery is up and running...check it out:

http://starfishpoetry.net/current.htm

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

Die down your daily mind in Himalaya!

2007-11-13T08:55:02Z

Die down your daily mind in Himalaya!

Welcome to Himalaya!

If you want to live as a facilitater of body communication worlshop, you can learn the whole method here.
If you want to become an unique butoh dancer, also you can learn whole creation method here.
If you want to meet your whole self, you can learn how to contact your whole here.

School Guide 2008

One year course: March 17-December 8
Half year course: Available to start flexiblly
Three months course: Available to start flexiblly

●Spring term（Three months course ）: March 17- June 6, 2008

●Summer term（Three months course）: June 16- September 5, 2008

●Autum term（Three months course）: September 15- Decmber 5, 2008

Monday to Friday
AM 10:00 - PM 4:30

Anybody, any age, any sex, any handicaped people; OK!
(But here is the highland of 1800m sea level, on the foot of Himalaya mountains. Regrettably, you can not use wheelchair.)

One year(Three terms): 1300 US$
Half year(Two terms): 1000 US$
One term(Three months): 570 US$

International Subbody Butoh School
(Jogibara, Dharamsala. Himachal Pradesh, India)

Ten　students only (In order of application. Long term student are given priority.)

Send e-mail with your personal information and hope.

to: subbody@hotmail.com

more info.: www.subbody.net

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 5 replies

Eating the Oneiric

2007-10-25T01:12:25Z

a half-hearted shove into the very same beauty as yesterday: glimmer against wrists sweating their lust: that young jackal trying to imagine what a tattoo would say if it could speak: handcuffs to glossy-red lips, cheeks coagulating on the rim: a murderous afterburn gently peeling back layers of DNA doing 300 push-ups a minute

brown doors and pastry skin capable of metamorphosis at any second: the very heart of dissociative freedom like strangers kissing in a tree: certain hues repeat themselves when drinking bruised, skinny pints of fifteen: kitchen cesspool contortion and buttocks straining, the sheer grime sucking at hosiery for a free flash of pussy

monosyllables cooling on a girl's thigh, the primordial supine: that inscrutable siamese-dream carries its own decapitation across the street: the space between another black dress clinging too-tightly to young flesh and this nubile sorrow: slender membranes emblazoned on a sea of nomads traversing the flutter of cellphones, verbatim

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 19 replies

Surrealist Visual Art Submissions Wanted

2007-10-24T15:32:43Z

The StarFish Journal, an online surrealist joint, which up until now has been strictly text-based, has been redesigned with the goal of being able to include a gallery of surrealist visual "art"

If there are aspiring Max Ernt's out there who would like to have their stuff featured in the next issue (mid-November), please send all submissions to:

cosmiccommunist@hotmail.com

(work that has appeared elsewhere is fine)

The StarFish Journal : http://www.starfishpoetry.net/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

New Surrealist Hub

2007-10-20T15:41:33Z

and it's participatory if people want to post their stuff..just register and log in:

http://rr.surrealists.eu/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Dali @ LACMA

2007-09-26T20:58:29Z

I went on line to purchase tix and surprisingly, nothing notable was available.

My question.......the exhibit runs until 1-8-08, do you think more tix will be available as the hype dies down?

I've seen some really great exhibits there....and have never run accross this problem.

Thanks!

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

the way to Christ is simple

2007-09-25T07:05:31Z

God's Blessings often benefit all people. But many of His promises are only for His own children. If you're not sure that you're a part of God's family, He offers you this invitation. The way to Christ is simple:

1. Admit that you have a need.

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;
Romans 3:23

2. Believe that Jesus is God, the Son, who paid the wages of your sin.

For the wages of sin is death [eternal separation from God]; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Romans 6:23

3. Call upon God.

That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.

Romans 10:9

King James Version

The Holy Bible

ISBN 978-1-58660-198-0

Barbour Publishing

www.barbourbooks.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

The Magritte show...

2007-08-08T05:50:52Z

I may be taking the late pass here but I have just arrived at this tribe.

Have you seen the recent Magritte show?
I had the pleasure when it was in Los Angles, earlier this year.
It was excellent.
It was an experience.

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 1 reply

chuck roast, pork roast, leg of lamb roast

2007-03-28T17:36:37Z

http://www.vivg.com/mproast.htm

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

surrealist jokes

2007-03-18T20:23:44Z

How does a surrealist change a bulb ?

( i will give the answer tomorow...)

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 23 replies

Magritte and the Urban Man

2007-02-27T06:40:15Z

so the shows about to close, but must read or listen to the Urban man's take on the whole LA affair........
http://www.kcrw.com/etc/programs/ur/ur070226smoking_magrittes_pi

I do so agree....is it not reality we abhor and the images we adore?

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

This is a topic

2007-02-02T15:00:45Z

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 24 replies

Dream Matter

2007-01-20T09:40:09Z

Hello members of this Tribe,
I joined a few days ago and wanted to get things going by asking if you would view my profile,my artwork, and if interested,send me a friend invitation. My main purpose in joining Tribe is to meet other artists for artistic communication. I have added two links in this post to images of my Dream Matter artwork.
Thanks....Steve

Dream Matter No. 23 / The piece I am now working on.
http://www.geocities.com/sound_of_water/23jan19.jpg

Dream Matter No. 18 / a large view of one of my Dream Matter pieces.
http://www.geocities.com/sound_of_water/DreamMatter18lg.jpg

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

The Larval Vogue

2006-12-15T17:32:13Z

Yesteday wrapping conceit around your ankles. Sacral, perhaps embedded in animated holes of did not. Your singular pile of spiked flesh chastened as a hook mysteriously drifting across voided machine terrain. Yellow fans a dazzling smile with only fifteen seconds remaining in the chalice.

A gateway to another astronaut kiss, lonely because enough is never enough. Dancing to never wear the feather of disease again. Bid farewell to the love of silver rooted in representation, a dozen roses focused on the speed of light. Triumph in desecration. It was suddenly easy to rate the larval vogue, the steely grip sullying your bloodied crevice. Wounded wings...

Empty, burning allies at a cross of wrinkled onyx, psychic energies flown to drivel. A beautiful play at nothing. Fighting another location doomed to handle flaccid, exposed ribs until the dawn of the last day ingesting the best this life had to offer twice. Turning too harshly, with rogue powers destined to attempt choke-holds on blithe sentiment, inspired by a leavening curl anywhere, anytime.

When the gulf between flatness and dry resonances sense every lazy eye screaming to fly by voices automatic why at the good breathing in and out in filial spurts, a frozen dial constructed together,

a noble loft, away with the over

projecting tender architectures onto you

to unite right and wrong,

feral tendrils of aesthetics

sipping ecstatic wine.

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

from http://www.surrealartforum.com/artlinks.htm

2006-11-03T04:53:49Z

from http://www.surrealartforum.com/artlinks.htm
http://www.surrealartforum.com/

ERNST FUCHS - http://www.ernstfuchs-zentrum.com/
SERGEI APARIN - http://www.aparin.com/
MARTINS DE BARROS - http://perso.wanadoo.fr/andr.martinsdebarros/
ELI TIUNINE - http://www.elitiunine.com/
MICHAEL HUSSAR - http://www.michaelhussar.biz/
ZDZISLAW BEKSINSKI - http://www.beksinski.pl/
ODD NERDRUM - http://www.nerdrum.com/
KIM EVANS - http://www.kimevans.com/
ANDREW GONZALEZ - http://www.sublimatrix.com/
OLEG KOROLEV - http://koro-art.com/
KRIS KUKSI - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Kuksi.html
DE ES - http://www.dees.at/
ROBERT VENOSA - http://www.venosa.com/
ZELJKO DJUROVIC - http://www.zeljkodjurovic.com/
PETER GRIC - http://www.gric.at/
VICTOR SAFONKIN - http://www.eurosurrealism.com/
LAURIE LIPTON - http://www.laurielipton.com/
LUKAS KANDL - http://www.kandl.net/
JOSE ROOSEVELT - http://www.juanalberto.ch/
ALEX GREY - http://www.alexgrey.com/
BRIGID MARLIN - http://www.brigidmarlin.com/
ANDRZEJ MASIANIS - http://www.galery2003.republika.pl/
NAOTO HATTORI - http://www.wwwcomcom.com/
MARTINA HOFFMANN - http://www.martinahoffmann.com/
CHRIS MARS - http://www.chrismarspublishing.com/
MAURA HOLDEN - http://mauraholdenartworks.com/
DOMINIC RYAN - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1388933.htm
KARL PERSSON - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/828515.htm
MARK RYDEN - http://www.markryden.com/
MICHAEL FUCHS - http://www.michael-fuchs.com/
BRIAN FROUD - http://www.worldoffroud.com/index.html
JAMES SEBOR - http://www.seaboarcreations.com/
CHET ZAR - http://chetzar.com/
PAVEL SURMA - http://www.pavel-surma.com/
ARTUR GOLACKI - http://www.golacki.com/
S ZADEMACK - http://www.zademack.com/
JACEK YERKA - http://www.auditpartner.pl/inne/yerkaland/start.htm
TRISTAN SCHANE - http://www.tristanschane.com/
DANIEL FRIEDEMANN - http://www.daniel-friedemann.com/
JAROSLAW KUKOWSKI - http://kukowski.art.pl/
JOE COLEMAN - http://www.joecoleman.com/
LUIGI LA SPERANZA - http://www.lasperanza.com/
KUBA FIEDOROWICZ - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1446787.htm
PAUL FREEMAN - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/842991.htm
HEATHER NEVAY - http://www.nevayburke.freeserve.co.uk/
CARRIE ANN BAADE - http://www.carrieannbaade.com/
JON BEINART - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/451699.htm
K NAKAMURA - http://www.h6.dion.ne.jp/~m.mirage/home.html
LAURENCE CARUANA - http://www.lcaruana.com/
H.R. GIGER - http://www.hrgiger.com/
ALEX GROSS - http://alexgross.com/
JAMES GLEESON - http://www.charlesnodrumgallery.com.au/ArtistsGleeson05.htm
JOE SORREN - http://joesorren.com/
G HELNWEIN - http://www.gottfried-helnwein.de/
JODY HARMON - http://www.jodyharmon.com/
BONNY HUT - http://www.bonnyh.com/
ALEX FISHGOYT - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Fishgoyt.html
DANIEL VICTOR - http://www.danielvictor.net/
M USHERWOOD - http://oakappleart.com/marcus-main.html
EIKE ERZMONEIT - http://www.eikeerzmoneit.co.uk/
SHERVIN IRANSHAHR - http://www.artfiend.net/
RICHARD MARCHAND - http://www.richardmarchand.com/
HEIDI TAILLEFER - http://www.heiditaillefer.com/
ISTVAN SANDORFI - http://www.fosaw.com/
CORNELIUS FRAENKEL - http://home.arcor.de/cornelius.fraenkel/index.html
MARK BEEBE - http://www.markbeebe.com/
PAULINE JONES - http://www.imagesofelsewhere.co.uk/
JOE VAUX - http://www.joevaux.com/
KEITH THOMPSON - http://www.keiththompsonart.com/
MATI KLARWEIN - http://www.matiklarweinart.com/
GIL BRUVEL - http://www.bruvel.com/
TIMOTHY CUMMINGS - http://www.nancyhoffmangallery.com/cumming/2004.html
NATHAN JONES - http://www.nwjones.com/
RAGEN MENDENHALL - http://www.ragensart.com/
ERIC WHITE - http://www.ewhite.com/
WOLFGANG GRASSE - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Grasse.html
TRAVIS LOUIE - http://www.travislouie.artroof.com/
ERIK HEYNINCK - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Heyninck.html
ZALIBAREK - http://www.zalibarek.com/
MARK HENSON - http://www.sacredlight.to
BRIAN CLARKE - http://www.lestoil.net/bc/ft.html
STEVEN KENNY - http://www.stevenkenny.com/
ROGER GARLAND - http://www.lakeside-gallery.com/
RICK SIMPSON - http://home.comcast.net/~altkunst/
DANIEL HANEQUAND - http://danielhanequand.com/
PHILIP RUBINOV - http://www.rubinovs-lightning.com/
DANIEL MARTIN DIAZ - http://www.danielmartindiaz.com/
DEAN MCINERNEY - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1329439.htm
F MONNEREAU - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1391048.htm
VERNON TREWEEKE -
http://www.beinart.com.au/albums/album_image/1373616/342980.htm
NATHAN SPOOR - http://www.nathanspoor.com/
PETER HUTTER - http://www.editionhutter.de/
BRUNO DI MAIO - http://www.brunodimaio.it/
ILENE MEYER - http://www.ilenemeyer.com/
FRANK BRUNO - http://www.frankbruno.net/
ANJA BRINKMANN - http://www.anja-brinkmann.net/
ROCCO FORGIONE - http://www.m-mistretta.com/
BEAU WHITE - http://beauwhite.com/
DI VOGO - http://www.divogo.com/
AGNES BOULLOCHE - http://agnes.boulloche.free.fr/
PATRICK BYERS - http://www.101industries.ca/
MICHAEL MASCHKA - http://www.michaelmaschka.de/
DAVID ARONSON - http://alchemicalwedding.com/
CANIGLIA - http://www.caniglia-art.com/
ANNE HARPER - http://harpershanks.com/
W WIDMOSER - http://www.wolfgangwidmoser.org/
Y DUSSEAULT - http://www.dusso.com/
MICHAEL CHEVAL - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Cheval.html
ROSIE BIRTWHISTLE - http://www.omniart.co.uk/
NEZ - http://nez-art.com/
TINA IMEL - http://www.tinaimel.com/
PETER ALEXANDROFF - http://noosagallery.com/peteralexandroff1paint.htm
OLGA SPIEGEL - http://www.olgaspiegel.com/
DAVID STOUPAKIS - http://www.davidstoupakis.com/
ORION - http://www.sfear.org/
LAWRENCE HOLLIEN - http://www.lawrencehollien.com/
DAVID M BOWERS - http://www.dmbowers.com/
PATRICK BOUSSIGNAC - http://www.boussignac.com/
DAVID HESKIN - http://www.newskinstudio.com/
CHRIS DYER - http://www.f-ram.net/positivecreations/
GARCIA CHIBBARO - http://www.garciachibbaro.com/
LINDA CHIDO - http://www.lindachido.com/
DIMITROV VLADIMIR - http://www.cyboflexium.com/
CRAIG LA ROTONDA - http://revelationart.net/
TERRANCE LINDALL - http://www.wahcenter.net/gallery/lindall/
JEROD KNAPP - http://www.jerodknapp.com/
JAKE BADDELEY - http://www.jakebaddeley.com/
JEF BERTELS - http://www.jefbertels.be/
DHIRA - http://www.spectralemanations.com/
PARKHOMENKO - http://godotartgallery.com/author.asp?auID=47&cat=7&all=1
LEE-ANNE RAYMOND - http://www.leeanneart.com/
EMILY REUTER - http://beinart.com.au/page/page/1503980.htm
MARTINE RHYNER - http://www.surrealistic-art.ch/
DAMIEN KEITH - http://www.damienkeith.com/
RAY CAESAR - http://www.raycaesar.com/
CHARLES MORROW - http://www.charlesemorrow.com/
KIM NELSON - http://www.kimnelson.com.au/
ALEXANDER SPIVAK - http://www.spivakart.com/
VLATKO MILETIC - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1555511.htm
GERARD DI MACCIO - http://www.di-maccio.com/
JASON JACENKO - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/1509722.htm
JOSEF KRICHBAUM - http://www.krichbaum.at/
PUDDNHEAD - http://www.puddnhead.com/
COLORY - http://www.colory.de/
LUI LIU - http://www.luiliustudio.com/
BROM - http://www.bromart.com/
L.J. ALTVATER - http://www.sunecho.com/
ORRYELLE - http://www.crossroads.wild.net.au/esoterotica.htm
J KAUFFMAN - http://www.pernetrope.net/
M M MOTORCYCLE - http://www.michaelmichaelmotorcycle.com/
KIM SCOTT - http://feedyoureye.com/
MARK DANCEY - http://www.illuminado.com/
KAZIMIERZ DZYGA - http://kazimierz.dzyga.free.fr/
ROLAND H HEYDER - http://www.heyland7.de/
JAN MACHALEK - http://pages.globetrotter.net/machalek/Painting/Painting.html
DALE KEOGH - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/544128.htm
VAN KOOTEN - http://www.robvankooten.nl/
CYNTHIA ROBBINS - http://www.art4spirit.com/
FRED WEIDMANN - http://www.fredweidmann.com/
ANDRE JANOUT - http://www.janout.at/
WESSI - http://www.wessi.at/
KARENA A KARRAS - http://www.karenakarras.com/
PAVEL AUBRECHT - http://www.aubrecht-pavel.com/
BERNARD DUMAINE - http://surrealism.free.fr/
DENIS MEZENZEV - http://www.art.surrealism.ru/
ISABELLE PLANTE - http://www.isabelleplante.com/
WES BENSCOTER - http://www.wesbenscoter.com/
SIMON KELLY - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/2586989.htm
JACQUES RESCH - http://www.jacquesresch.com/
MIGUEL TIO - http://migueltio.com/
STEVEN BOWERMAN - http://www.stevenbowerman.com/
GILLIAN WARDEN - http://www.gillianwarden.com.au/
HANS KANTERS - http://www.hanskanters.com/
HEIDI VALKYRIE - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page.cfm/1386970
AMANDA SAGE - http://www.amandasage.com/
JEAN BAILLY -
http://lsinzelle.free.fr/france/jargeau-loire/peintre/bailly.htm
MITCHEL BARRETT - http://www.mitchbarrett.com/gallery.htm
SANDRO CASTELLI - http://www.sandrocastelli.com/
JONATHAN W ZEH - http://www.jwzeh.com/
STEPHEN LOMBARDI - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Lombardi.html
ALESSANDRO BAVARI - http://www.alessandrobavari.com/
TREVOR BROWN - http://www.pileup.com/babyart/
SCOTT CRANMER - http://www.scottcranmer.com/
GREG SIMKINS - http://www.imscared.com/
DOMEN LOMBERGAR - http://www.lombergar.com/v6/
LINDA GARLAND - http://www.lakeside-gallery.com/
MARKUS NEIDEL - http://www.markus-neidel.de/
ZORAN VELIMANOVIC - http://www.velimanovic.com/
H SMORENBURG - http://www.hermansmorenburg.com/en/
LEE H ROSWELL - http://www.leeharveyroswell.com/
TON HARING - http://www.noizeunitz.nl/
DAVID HO - http://www.davidho.com/
NELLY CHICHLAKOVA - http://www.simvolika.com/
BEN TOLMAN - http://www.bentolman.com/
TYLER GENTRY - http://www.tylergentrydesigns.com/
DR W UNGER - http://www.art-unger.de/
DU XINJIAN - http://www.duxinjian.com/
KOLLAR ANDERSON - http://www.kollaranderson.com/
TOM GIFFIN - http://www.tomgiffin.com/
DAVE HOOPER - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page/2586854.htm
JOHN CULLISON - http://www.thecullisoncollection.com/
ADAM PINSON - http://www.redeye-art.com/
JUSSI LOF - http://jlof.com/
DAVID ACEVEDO - http://acevedostudio.tripod.com/
FABRICE LAVOLLAY - http://users.skynet.be/fabricelavollay/
PAUL N GRECH - http://www.pngconcepts.com/
DENNIS SIBEIJN - http://www.damnengine.net/
JIM ISAKSON - http://www.jimisakson.com/
FABRIZIO RICCARDI - http://www.fabrizioriccardi.it/
DEBORAH VALENTINE - http://a-neon-devil-breath.deviantart.com/
SAGA JEPSEN - http://www.zzaga.se/
MICHAEL CSONTOS - http://www.csontos.com/
CHRISTIAN FLORA - http://www.christianflora.com/
CHARNINE - http://charnine.com/
CHRIS WRIGHT - http://supersmallgallery.com/
CLINT CASSELL - http://www.clintcassellart.com/
GAETANE BRISSON - http://www.cyanimage.com/en/home.htm
WIM KUENEN - http://prema.exto.nl/
JOHN PITRE - http://www.johnpitre.com/
HENRYK FANTAZOS - http://fantazos.com/
SIMON HAIDUK - http://www.thinningtheveil.ca/
ANNE WORBES - http://www.anne-worbes.de/
NICK STATHOPOULOS - http://www.beinart.com.au/page/page.cfm/1068870
BILL MARTIN - http://www.billmartingallery.com/
SABIN BOYKINOV - http://sabin.nm.ru/
BLACK RUST - http://www.blackrust.com/
MARC SOROZAN - http://www.merchantofmisery.com/
KAMIEL PROOST - http://kamiel-proost.com/estore/pc/mainIndex.asp
RAMIRO RODRIGUEZ - http://www.ramirorodriguez.com/
DEMETRIOS VAKRAS - http://www.vakras.com/
S. R. MICHAUD - http://www.studiomichaud.com/
ROBERT MORRIS - http://www.mechanicalwhispers.com/
CLAUS BRUSEN - http://www.clausbrusen.com/
DAVE COOPER - http://www.davegraphics.com/
DENNIS KONSTANTIN - http://www.denniskonstantin.com/
NGUYEN DINH DANG - http://rarfaxp.riken.go.jp/%7Edang/page1.html
SEAN MADDEN - http://www.seanmaddenart.com/
TORSTEN GEBHARDT - http://www.torstengebhardt.com/
MARION PECK - http://www.marionpeck.com/
NORIKO OHASHI - http://www7.ocn.ne.jp/%7Egnosis/
ZORAN ZUGIC - http://www.zugic.com/zoran/index.htm
CODY A SEEKINS - http://www.codyart.tk/
JEFF LOWE - http://www.jefflowe.net/
ANDREW S ARCONTI - http://www.asarconti.com/
CAREY THOMPSON - http://www.galactivation.com/
PETRUS BOOTS - http://www.petrusboots.com/
ROBBIE - http://www.psychedelic-art.com/
ANNA IGNATIEVA - http://magnetica.ru/
TOMASZ SETOWSKI - http://www.setowski.art.pl/
MICHAEL BROWN - http://www.tenthousandvisions.com/
D EICHENBERG - http://www.getinfo.net/douge/
TODD SCHORR - http://www.toddschorr.com/
OLIVER VERNON - http://oliververnon.com/
KATI ASTRAEIR - http://ooookatioooo.deviantart.com/
EDOARDO BELINCI - http://www.fantascienza.net/belinci/
MICHAEL ERION - http://mcerion.tripod.com/
LORI KOEFOED - http://www.lorikoefoed.com/
WINSTON SMITH - http://winstonsmith.com/
BRYAN K WARD - http://www.bryankentward.com/
L ERIKSSON - http://www.liselotteeriksson.com/
PROZOROVSKY - http://www.prozorovsky.com/
D HOLEMAN - http://www.awakenvisions.com/menu.html
DE WINTER - http://www.bramdewinter.com/
PROVOTOROV - http://www.afonsky.com/MF/ENTER-VProvoGallery.htm
DONSKOI - http://www.artofimagination.org/Pages/Donskoi.html
MILADINOVIC - http://www.intaglio.co.yu/index_flash.htm
JEFF HOPP - http://jeffhopp.net/
V KUSH - http://www.vladimirkush.com/
JOHNSTONE - http://www.myposterart.com/
JAPI HONOO - http://japihonoo.com/
OUELLETTE - http://www.neuroticadivine.com/
M SUAREZ - http://www.bway.net/~monique/mariu.htm
GEDDES-WARD - http://www.neilgeddesward.com/
STEVE SMITH - http://www.oneiricrealism.com/
KRIS DAVIDSON - http://www.krisd.net/
CALASCIONE - http://www.calascione.com/
ESCALMEL - http://www.francoisescalmel.com/
Z STEC - http://z.stec.w.interia.pl/
C J BARNABY - http://www.cjbarnaby.com/
HEUSSENSTAMM - http://mandalas.com/
G LEONARD - http://www.gabeleonard.com/
T BLONDELL - http://tinablondell.com/
KEITH WIGDOR - http://www.keithwigdor.surrealism.info/
BLAKE FLYNN - http://home.comcast.net/~blake.flynn/
GRITSIYENKO - http://www.mobidick.ru/english/
DARWIN LEON - http://www.darwinleon.com/
M MAXWELL - http://mpm7.com/
ANDREA LEHMANN - http://www.andrealehmann.org/
T BOZIC - http://www.tiffanybozic.net/
OLLIKAINEN - http://www.artoflumo.com/
FRANZ GRAW - http://www.graw-kunstdrucke.de/
RON ENGLISH - http://www.popaganda.com/
PHOENIX & ARABETH - http://www.phoenix-arabeth.com/
JACK MOREFIELD - http://jackmorefield.com/
NEMO - http://www.nemo.org/
NORILAND - http://surrealist.org/
SEAROM - http://br.geocities.com/anasoredsearom/
PATRICK WOODROFFE - http://www.patrickwoodroffe-world.com/
UTE MEYER-KOLDITZ - http://www.meyer-kolditz.de/
GRIGORIEV - http://grigart.brest.by/index_eng.htm
3t - http://www.eyeontherainforest.org/wanderwoman3t.html
C LEACH - http://www.christopherleach.co.uk/
KOEHNLINE - http://www.koehnline.com/
ABLOT - http://www.ablot.com/
JIM STANIS - http://www.jimstanis.com/
SYL DISJONK - http://www.disjonk.com/
A J ISBISTER - http://www.artplaces.com/isbister/
M KAYE - http://www.artniks.com/milly/
BRAHMA - http://www.brahma.tv/
DAVID BOLTT - http://www.davidbollt.com/home.asp
I KOLENDA - http://www.ian-kolenda.demon.co.uk/
C SPICUZZA - http://carolspicuzza.com/
NICK KUSHNER - http://www.thethirdangelsounded.com/
A WACHOB - http://www.amandawachob.com/
WILLIAM S OTTO - http://www.williamsotto.com/
POOCH - http://www.poochisland.com/
ROBH RUPPEL - http://www.robhruppel.com/
W. DEN BROEDER - http://www.surrealisme.nl/
D MARSAN - http://www.marsandino.altervista.org/
TEN -
http://mhttp://www.naturalmusesart.com/embers.tripod.com/~Ten_Ten/index.html
R WALKER - http://www.naturalmusesart.com/
JOURNEY BOY - http://www.journeyboy.com/
HANS MEYERHOLZ - http://www.hans-meyerholz.de/
P DELORME - http://lorme.club.fr/index.htm
J W JOHNSON - http://www.jameswjohnson.com/
LOU PATROU - http://patrou.com/
DUNCAN LONG - http://duncanlong.com/
EGLINGTON - http://www.art-poster-online.com/
S ROSA - http://www.geocities.com/beykaeishahla/
KOLYADA - http://kolyada.com/
J WOTIPKA - http://www.slowart.com/articles/wotipka.htm
FRITS DANG - http://www.atelierfritsdang.com/
DAVE CLEGG - http://www.daveclegg.com/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

"Ceci n'est pas un pipe" t-shirt!

2006-07-25T21:06:35Z

Threadless.com has a "Ceci n'est pas un pipe" t-shirt!

http://www.threadless.com/product/543/This_is_not_a_Pipe

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 1 reply

Undercover Surrealism

2006-06-11T15:49:40Z

For those in and around London, there are a series of talks, events, exhibits and conference investigating peripheral Surrealists (with an emphasis on Georges Bataille) at the Hayward Gallery through July:

http://www.hayward.org.uk/talks.asp

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

cascade of mirrors

2006-06-03T22:17:11Z

I’ve seen it all already
I’ve been it all already
All cascades before me
All cascades… no more me
Every facet, every flaw,
Every reflection, I ever saw

At the hollowest of centers
Ever quiet, ever still
Feel the whirlwind blowing
From the windowsill
Density expands,
Material contracts,
As my Minding wanders
The construct of the facts
Recorded through my Castle
A castle formed of clouds
Shifting in a storm front
Of undulating shrouds
Brilliant light and color
Afire on the air
Details more than clever
Exploding everywhere
Details less than stable
Collapsing as they wear

Is it Heaven or Hell?
The Realm in which we Dwell…
The answer may be, “Well,
It depends on the Swell”
For Riding a Wave
Is a High that will Save
But to Crash on the Sand
Is the fate of the Damned
The world is what we make
And so to turn the wake
We must rise above the tide
And form our Falls in stride
Dancing with the Rhythm
Of our Soular Cataclysm

Travel this way to the Core
Leave behind the phantom Shore
We do not need it anymore
No time to glide on Winds of Yore
Let’s Fly beyond the Revolving Door

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

ceci n'est pas une chanson d'amour

2006-05-29T05:49:42Z

This is not a love song

This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song

Happy to have not to have not Big business is very wise I'm crossing over into E-enter prize
This is not a love song
Love song
Love song

I'm going over to the other side I'm happy to have not to have not
Big business is very wise I'm inside free enterprise This is not a love song...

I'm adaptable
I'm adaptable

I'm adaptable and I like my role
I'm getting better and better
And I have a new goal
I'm changing my ways where money applies

This is not a love song...

Now are you ready to grab the candle
The tunnel vision - not television
Behind the curtain - out of the cupboard
You take the first train - into the big world
Now will I find you - now will you be there

Not a love song
This is not a love song...

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 5 replies

●Teaching　about resonance

2006-04-29T14:06:26Z

●School for your metamorphosis

Subbody School is a place for metamorfosis to start a new life

through learning subbody resonance method.

Beginner’s course: 1 month
(To meet your whole self, and to create your own subbody dance by

learning subbody method)

Creator’s course: 3 months
(To study subbody method for starting a life as an original

creator)

Resonator’s course: 1 year
(To study whole of subbody resonance method for changing your way

of life as a resonator)

Facilitator’s course: 3 years
(To become a facilitator who can support others to connect with

their own subbody and to create subbody dance)

School should be a place for secret metamorfosis for you.

Please visit our site: http://subbody.net/

You can find some novel hints for changing way of life.

You can apply now June to November course!

Contact: Rhizome Lee

Application: subbody@hotmail.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

New Surrealist Cubist Painter...

2006-04-18T12:46:51Z

All are welcome to join. Non caloric.

http://tribes.tribe.net/antonbrzezinski

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 3 replies

Butoh School Photo Journal

2006-04-05T15:05:30Z

We started Weekly Photo Journal of Subbody Butoh School Himalaya.
FInding the ugliest qualia from the darkness of body, and open it with the best Jo-Ha-Kyu timing, this is the deepest butoh method.
See the miracle of subbody method.

Please visit our site: http://subbody.net/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Butoh School Photo Journal

2006-04-05T15:03:43Z

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

guide to the deepest butoh method

2006-03-24T19:23:55Z

Hi! friends

Subbody Butoh School has started.

I start weekly journal about what I teach at my butoh school on my

website.

Why butoh dance is deep?

How can you connect to the depth of you.

What is Jo-ha-Kyu?

What is Riken?

I teach the deepest subbody butoh method here.

Now You can learn it in the Subbody Butoh School Himalaya India

There is beginner's one month course to Facilitator's three years

course.

If you are interesting in,
please visit the site;

Subbody Butoh Himalaya; www.subbody.net/　

Rhizome Lee

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Recombinant Aragon

2006-03-16T21:44:35Z

Attached to some other, huge cracks, pure speculation to the echoes.
Depart with clear eyes, famous tombs chain seemingly
on trial. Actually, the bridge they call the sky, a frightful cloud
proposition laugh at this mansion slowly disentangled.
Foreign links all human paragraphs
of their intellectual life veil monstrous hybrids.

Countless words. Tainted with finalist
proverbs and demonstrations, doubt has tried this vertigo
of dust on the doormat. Tossed in its being to condemn
a great white edifice these suspect hedonism steps at the bottom.

Looking glass endeavours.
Draw was the tendency paragraphs
stolen offspring, forgotten system would be
in dying the peculiar rut amidst the bicycle of my senses.

By figurine species, reconciled without unparalleled
experiences a moment vase gleam heaped-up thought
but in words. Grasping of dream relations have hit the passing
inspiration to my brandish all peoples that issued amid chance.
Shame-faced genus oyster proceeds the supernatural
like any other prophetic books without irony.
Real, carried along this happiness at all itself.

To them a mere game along its enigmas,
little hunters having reached religions and hours
at this exercise. A special confluence followed before
narcotics rise in the street with eyes assembled.
Ached wonders were this tasting issuing exploitation
charm vibrations subsisted, carbon from a method's
throwing tactile concealing of a special turmoil.

Reduced one state to another mental phantoms
were incredulity, for example, the semiology of
mental illness lumps together what exists. Other
transmutations one sweeps the pause, the speaking
resemblance to dreams than adjacent to what surreal is.

Notions mind a new, more shared horizon of hallucinations
speaking absolute nominalism. Calls neighbourly pay two
words envisaged was nothing superseded, arisen away to the
Pantheon outside of our fantasies. Mystical relations presented,
all the parapharnelia converse bodies any reach before the
travellers of the unreal, produced in the field of ingestion
to a word indistinctly given the shared image horizon.

Magic. Poetry. Dreams. Madness. Drunkenness.

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

cec n'est pas l'oiseau

2006-03-16T05:33:42Z

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
B-b-b-bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a...

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
Bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody's talking about the bird!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird...

Surfin' bird
Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb... [retching noises]... aaah!

Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-oom-oom-oom
Oom-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-a-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Well don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
[repeat to fade]

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 10 replies

Individuated, Defeated

2006-02-16T06:57:27Z

Excess dusts off forever here, where sparks from the moon come to rest. Brushing the leaves off trees, the last ticket nostrils chant highway sketches of play memories remain unwilling guests behind. Always a nomenclature going absolutely nowhere amoral at the age of twenty sound guarding armour over the afterlife languor feeling out curses. Maniacally gesturing people to dance particular clues, remnants within black ash, like a scientist with just a dash of heaven in her pockets.

A cryptographic lunging ahead, fog along the spasms of whatever is left behind. Ghosts dream, pronounce a last line of defence coded any grey solitudes printing colour hours into clinging, catching breaths of fog. Now forged longitudes glance red denoting latency along spinning, falling throughout this universe smoking the dredge and bray of hollow shoulder-blades letter a letting go.

Heavy breasts have an intensity blazing places needed lines along the sand, and central hours in the mists of plenty. Laughs of ecstasy, the incommensurable calm of the water smiling noticed flatness, this denial of sedition and venality before departing us. Sentences fail the plane of time inhabiting this particular instant of now and then wishing six hundred a flash of air eight years ago, acting the fool.

On the beache's all about in my hand drafting shadows enraptured the forest nearby, climbing consciousness like the same size cursed, one day or another vexation losing breath, preparing shots so clean. Passages that sense a threat, notice the freshness hour at hand felt the quickness as it once was. Ahead, into the unwilling kissing the sky's balance of a damn thing changed, a warrior stance set six million billboards banned too late to be then an all-day Lebanon smoking on the train. Dedication to the spiritual equation killing this whole world of the living highway too empty for our combined fear, sadness mixed any way at all with cartoons slipping sullen wisps of trauma loud and aggressive, clogging veins with their repetitions of dream and song.

Ice beginning to send our neurological sensations initiates of available consumerist ideology for what is bitten. Making up the rest, cities in their entirety coming here for sad, profligate packing left eternally at the getting away praying in the rhythm of bloodied-sheets, merely her way of welcoming the republic of sex. To manifest, aligned with hipsterdom, inattention as a way of life flowing eternal sacrifice burdening creation with a vocabulary like this, calm in the face of immensity. Eating and moving our instruments to sing a ditty at the moon, feeding equal rights into a blend keeping us awake promises through the new strings that far behind bars. Bodies locked in the waves, touching my pleasure or pain.

A revolt prophesied some than foraging, moths fluttering, blowing clues through the trees. And lexicons happily forever brand new sounds taking the light above our intertwined woefull latching splotches of aquamarine of our own recall a shirt wretched soup at the end of the day, like an acolyte moving into the combined field of vision instinctively, automatically, you might say. Created the horror spent too many times over what in the known world on the radio glittering massive identifications turning down the lights, really a sign, a movie moaning hot grease, soft love, and braying shoes delivered, made in the shady days of a dying, malignant tryst.Forced entry contractually and dialect skills over and over the dark days relinquished songs of resistance attempting to set an attack against the setting sun suffering that eternal patriarchal god, with its importance brazenly killing the truths contained in the mind's concentration upon itself into this. That no of not staring at crass magnetics chasing radiant codes caught in our hair, building a triumph delivery beyond the will alloted, sleeping exhausted in the sand, a fire bravely keeping the fold at bay.

Weeping openly now, for the dead, for those who will follow after us. Auburn hair and blue-jeans glimpsed spectrally in the frozen. The night becoming first and second disasters naming the spirit of a few measly hundred clutching at graveyards, their eloquence after blossoms and blooming doorways beyond emptiness. Sublimated equipment dropped at the edges mere hours after fluttering chords exposed in the noumenon closed your own word choice patterned granules, icy and covering already numbed passages wedding skin. Theramin followed a plenty sign the token spring lessening, marking red lines and dotting semen obscured, this the momento that would possibly brighten our atomic outlook banking off the glass.

Something deeply Arabic in all this, songs still sung uninvented, the hues hanging back to avoid the ugly motifs scrawled sharply in the simple, elegant destiny of the spine. Fired at that moment, whorling embraced the unique, the singular, the pseudo breaking away from all previous schools to be rebirthed in the same pineal of the robust and virile. And so passed eternity in the course of a day. We barely knew the scar of the id ahead of the eightball or behind it. racketing and ricocheting an unsought for blowing torches you had between rapidly swollen lips, lying there blithely and failing to register other pasts lining the rim of the forest and the beach. Lines of flight scamperig away, passing over our cold whisps of breath, silver and eidetic to remain as silent as possible for as long as possible. Everything wasted on us...

Voices careening off the verdantry, all in a day's labour, apparently. Sailing like some other destiny, traversing the cross glimpsed only through pronged down centering noise stupid enough to open hexes kept sealed in a golden across highways invested with the air and its myriad permutations of decadence, scented. Without intention, or any sense of rhyme or reason, not yet reminded of our twin solitudes here by calm cinematic repeats chaining tension insane enough for bruised knees to glide up and over aspects of the lingo. Renewal, blood chilled and cleansed in watery rites became less cloudy, unknowing, a zero manifestation back when it was sunglasses, cool repositories of stored wisdom in wings editing lapses of something, wood allusions fury heard, signalling, sipping a repetition.

Strength somehow returning now, miracles that punch holes through crystalline lobes leaking with hope, enough scotch for a phonecall, anyway. Dark matters forgotten bring meanings of crawling along the side of the real moment is your insignia last detonated, spurring if you were ever that tall. Constant interrogation, trolls still lapping after false idols drinking goblets of negative entropy, the median signs crazy forms of a movie replayed, spliced and diced mirror in which we seek forgiveness after hours of the rapt unrepentant gilded loss neutralized, making you crazier than ever, frothing digital poetics at passersby in the dream. Hyper-calm seminal cleansing marked storms moving left to right to now and then, unleashed against the torpor scraping grace-notes from knees fully embracing the sand, then lost again in the filial portent pretends to be concerning hegemony dwarfing inadequate time devoted to piety erupting hands down.

Screaming, joyously now, smashing bones the waves affixed shadows dense, reclining in peace, here a doubt yet, a manifold of the rescued distances from receding palettes trudging verbal phantoms through the facts of the world when there is nothing else left but beleagured creation lining a few hairs grown grey with the monumental. The flesh of your forehead lined the highway, numinous and fragile after its long journey through this sallow night of formed images patterning the lines of a flag, burning them into the mind of man. Our actions impinged over and above terror, pleasure nullifying pain and coming to a styling mixture of alliterating tones vestigial. Impermanence running for its very life emptied of sitting serenely, dreaming of hideous, bloodied bone-graft magic spitting clowns of karma and blocking our escape into complete and total nihilism. Nowhere to go but back into the hole in the last glass of wine scurrying now for cover. Empty-headed, but not quite marvellous...

Exposure affixed in the sprawl, embedded in your strong clock posturing before the fear. Sloped shoulders a shield retribution likening the sign of your inner lurking to smoke unfurling from the grey lips of the highway beckoning rows, friendly as pie, with no more innocence clouding the myriad spatial relations between us. Without cause or intention, without any idea of what has been lost completely in dreams abraded into dusk. Land tithes knocking on heaven's door just a spark trying to summon us back. Inching along, unaware of ourselves at maximum, intent repair bemused eyes of a sudden refusals, diminishing reliquaries to fetch parchments only theatrical and lagging behind an hour, strumming bebop changes on electric mandolins, relaying ominous visions, outcaste afterthoughts warning us of what had already come to pass. It had all become a game now, the hold of the beach broken, left alone to bray teeth and disparaged afternoons forget a series of vital strikes near the danger as communism atonal singing threatened all standard writhing, our raped ascent laughter murdereing ideology forever.

Bound swoops of laughter falling, transfiguring the brittle of the birch and the domed cliffs sparkling with hilarious intent, inhaling wooden profiles, perhaps embalmed in white. We crawled then toward the flame, lilting and lolling questions ringing and barking vocals the mass of which finality quivering in fine, granular detail known as droned air. More than timorous, intentions concealed like an injury, private missives crawling sex over the concave liturgical blessing all the vacations we did not crying all the time in ugly identification episodes behind days hiding ordered animation there, in the limitless rage of domesticity shuffling those tomes written only yesterday (or so it seems). Finding yours to make it ten climbing out of the trees with their own black and white meanings socialized in your wandering grasp. Safety anyway, encased in bubbling plasma, memories undoubtedly to careen accidentally killing the dark momento of your fate traversing codes and axioms not entirely the products night would have willingly bestowed upon us.

Sore, eviscerate palms stuck in gravel sailing above and beyond specialty here's movement pulling to itself. Remote light obliged to reflect back simple diversity watching all along as its dignity rescinded, signing our sigil betoken names on the moon's soft light that warmed our sooty flesh dreaming a good, hearty laugh. A familiar tincture on the small of your back, tension cutting imaginary women grabbing at our hands, axial lines tasted an image of you walking along the side of the road captured in a wild growl encoded within cloudy meddlings in nowwheres. One-eyed flirtations connection standing unresponsively, investing another corner with a challenge to fly across very emotional hours from me to you willing to honour all you can say. Gazed over the sea farther than gray to gray, trying to laugh the entire ordeal away, promised glory to embittered, discouraged souls. Purpose only to see beautiful memories backed by big money, any nine to opening a whole tone allayed and twisted to your source. Coarse indifference netting scores of the told directly in its unremitting distance, exclusive as pie.

'All the Things You Are.' Lines of melody and harmony colliding with our frolic on the beach, on the road, our ordeal precious and stoic shuffling off the indirectly shown otherwise. Laughing it off in the moment, finally leaving this smooth not silent, not relinquished as of yet. A nameless quotient loved, amazing its own pure air blown across a god's photograph on the walls of your recall, spitting out the unknown. Boredom somehow become institutionalized, crossed legs on a couch concealing the particle love party on incredible breasts grown up on outfield networks thrown at me by a kissing, wasted to witness strategy ideas such as time wresting spume and sputter asleep on our couch. Waves possibly becoming fixated this time, narcotic in your seeing that one coming. Remind us of bells ringing in apocalypse constantly learning something microcephalic, a revelation standing on sandstorms.

Frozen, scorned, thereby channelling a dozen hydro opinions from density to make a transmission up against the curve of your heart. At the end of faint streams of something indistinct, but doing very well, thank you very much. The smug, smiling face of the privileged sold a sense of humour needed to acrimony the middle of the deep end blowing on a harmonica. Lavishing sliced around the corner to the right sent an ice-cold bottle of magenta deep into talking about what we can never know, neural charges in emerald riding the rails of uncertainty. Lucrative, lustrous beats on a plate leading us home...

http://dublology.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

This is not a subject

2006-02-13T21:42:55Z

This is not a cornfield

http://notacornfield.info/

This is not a cornfield

http://tribes.tribe.net/jimmyscornfield

This is not a tribe

http://cecinestpasunetribe.tribe.net/

I am notfunnyatall

http://people.tribe.net/sagethered?r=10470

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 4 replies

The Surreal McCoys

2006-01-12T05:34:25Z

Anyone else catch this on NPR a few weeks back?

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5069997

I still have a cassette that I bought at one of their shows.

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Philip Lamantia 1927-2005

2005-10-13T04:13:30Z

Philip Lamantia -- S.F. Surrealist poet
Visionary verse of literary prodigy influenced Beats
- Jesse Hamlin, Chronicle Staff Writer
Friday, March 11, 2005

Click to View

Philip Lamantia, the blazing San Francisco poet whose embrace of
Surrealism and the free flow of the imagination had a major influence
on the Beats and many other American poets, died Monday of heart
failure at his North Beach apartment. He was 77.

A San Francisco native born to Sicilian immigrants, Mr. Lamantia was a
widely read, largely self-taught literary prodigy whose visionary
poems -- ecstatic, terror-filled, erotic -- explored the subconscious
world of dreams and linked it to the experience of daily life.

"Philip was a visionary like Blake, and he really saw the whole world
in a grain of sand,'' said poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, whose City
Lights Books published four of Mr. Lamantia's nine books from 1967 to
1997.

"He was the primary transmitter of French Surrealist poetry in this
country,'' said Ferlinghetti, who first met Mr. Lamantia here in the
early 1950s. "He was writing stream-of-consciousness Surrealist
poetry, and he had a huge influence on Allen Ginsberg. Before that,
Ginsberg was writing rather conventional poetry. It was Philip who
turned him on to Surrealist writing. Then Ginsberg wrote 'Howl.' "

That epochal poem made Ginsberg's name and set off a revolution in
American poetry and culture. Ginsberg first read it aloud at San
Francisco's Six Gallery on Oct. 13, 1955. The other four poets on the
bill that night were Gary Snyder, Michael McClure, Philip Whalen and
Mr. Lamantia.

Rather than reading his own works -- his first book, "Erotic Poems,''
had been published in 1946 -- Mr. Lamantia read the prose poems of his
friend John Hoffman, who had recently died in Mexico.

"Philip was one of the most beautiful poets I've ever known. He was a
poet of the imagination,'' said McClure, who lives in Oakland. "He was
highly original -- I'd call his poetry hyper-personal visionary
Surrealism -- and he was thrilling to be around. Everybody would sit
around and listen to him all night. The flow of his imagination was a
beautiful thing. ''

A man of ecstatic highs and deep, deep lows, Mr. Lamantia suffered
from depression, friends said, and had become a recluse in recent
years, rarely leaving home.

But in his younger days, he was a dashing figure who conversed
brilliantly on a wide range of subjects. An omnivorous reader, he
delved into astronomy, philosophy, history, jazz, painting,
ornithology, Egyptology and many other subjects that informed his
expansive vision.

"He was very handsome, like a real Adonis,'' Ferlinghetti said. "He
was a brilliant talker, a nonstop associative talker like Robert
Duncan (the late San Francisco poet with whom Mr. Lamantia was
associated on the pre-Beat San Francisco poetry scene of the late
1940s and early '50s). "He would talk in a continuous stream. One word
would set him off in one direction, and another word would get him on
another trip. He was a real polymath. And he had an encyclopedic
memory.''

Born in San Francisco's Excelsior District, Mr. Lamantia worked as a
boy in the old produce market on the Embarcadero, where his
Sicilian-born father was a produce broker. He began writing poetry in
elementary school and fell under the spell of Surrealism after seeing
the paintings of Miro and Dali at the old San Francisco Museum of Art
on Van Ness Avenue.

He started reading the poetry of Andre Breton, the so-called pope of
Surrealism, and other writers in the movement. In 1943, when he was
15, some of Mr. Lamantia's poems were published in View, a
Surrealist-leaning New York magazine. Breton gave the young poet his
blessings, describing him as "a voice that rises once in a hundred
years.''

Some months later, Mr. Lamantia dropped out of Balboa High School and
moved to New York City, where he lived for several years. He
associated with Breton and other exiled European artists such as Max
Ernst and Yves Tanguy, and he worked as an assistant editor of View.

Returning to San Francisco after World War II, Mr. Lamantia took
courses at UC Berkeley in medieval studies, English poetry and other
subjects while continuing to write and publish poetry. In 1949, he
began traveling the world, staying for extended periods in Mexico,
Morocco and Europe.

Coming back to the United States every few years, Mr. Lamantia became
part of the underground culture blossoming on the east and west
coasts. Like other poets who felt estranged from mainstream culture in
the atomic age, "he found in the narcotic night world a kind of modern
counterpart to the gothic castle -- a zone of peril to be symbolically
or existentially crossed,'' wrote Nancy Peters, who later married Mr.
Lamantia in 1978 and edited some of his books for City Lights. "The
apocalyptic voice of 'Destroyed Works' is witness to that
experience.''

Published in '62 by Auerhahn Press, "Destroyed Works'' was Mr.
Lamantia's fourth book. The San Francisco house had also published the
poet's two previous collections, "Narcotica'' and "Ekstasis,'' both in
1959.

Ever searching to expand his vision, Mr. Lamantia spent time with
native peoples in the United States and Mexico in the '50s,
participating in the peyote-eating rituals of the Washoe Indians of
Nevada. The poet, who taught for a time at San Francisco State and the
San Francisco Art Institute, also embraced Catholicism. In later years
he attended the Shrine of St. Francis in North Beach.

"He had a vision of the world that was completely unique,'' said
Peters, who later separated from Mr. Lamantia, but they remained good
friends. She edited three of his books for City Lights, "Becoming
Visible" (1981), "Meadowlark West" (1986) and "Bed of Sphinxes: New
and Selected Poems, 1943- 1993.''

Andrei Codrescu, a poet and NPR commentator who knew Mr. Lamantia
well, called him "one of the great voices of our subconscious for the
last 50 years.

"He was a very pure poet in the sense that he was one of the very few
American poets who continued to pursue the Surrealist investigation of
dreams and the unconscious -- and he connected those explorations to
civic American life.''

A memorial is pending.

Page B - 7
URL: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/03/11/BAG4MBNRMF1.DTL

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

Intake: One

2005-09-20T18:07:43Z

...the overthick night threaded with dour jewels,
exclusive and divine. Rusty clocks battering her
sallow, pocked skin. Televised innuendo scraped ravines of truth sitting in silence.
Put up against a dilapidated red-brick wall, marron nails
blazing love through dense, acrid air, wet lips smiling wanly
every now and then.

The ambience: vitrified, no longer responding to external stimuli.
Singular Qabalistic embroidery etched itself on barley-blonde hair,
sending laced psyches slamming into market violence. Holes in black
leather pants syncopating the various agendas of the beat. Like carcass.
The roar of traffic gambled away the rawness of rusted spoons, magnificent
beads of bliss. Her only response was to weep golden ostrich feathers.

...an exotic addition to any cherished collection.

Her voice turned nodes of capital to dust.
Labyrinthine code gilded her every step into reality.
Babylon opened shop beneath one of several bridges she owned,
where she regularly sang fever-dreams into nullity,
coffin voidness in the mazes of the city.

Laughing flesh is digital.

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

De l'un a l'autre

2005-09-13T17:50:03Z

false pretenses = honest subterfuges

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 13 replies

genius blog alert

2005-08-12T18:53:33Z

u are not worthy:

http://odalisqued.blogspot.com/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

This is not a Tribe.

2005-08-07T21:52:35Z

Therefore, what is it?

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 9 replies

Parlor Game: A Free Iraq

2005-08-07T13:30:18Z

During the last debate, Dubya kept hammering on the term "A Free Iraq" and the things that it will do. We started playing a game tonight, coming up with all sorts of things that a free Iraq will do:

A free Iraq will clip our toenails.
A free Iraq will eat our leftovers.
A free Iraq will harangue our sisters.
A free Iraq will run with scissors.
.
.
.

And so on. Play this game with your friends, let me know some of the ones you guys come up with.

--J,
A free Iraq will reply to my messages.

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 51 replies

Ceci n'est pas un post

2005-06-09T17:32:49Z

ceci n'est pas un please provide some content

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 5 replies

Semiotic Potato

2005-04-06T15:12:32Z

Drifting disconsolately, furiously attempting to tear the future from our eyes. Fate boarded the bus, the stifling heat of the streets leaping from its gelatinous antennae. Opium is love, a self-contained manifesto throbbing with the last vestiges of patriotism, nationalism, and that look in your eyes. Her buttocks lifted and curved just so. Pandemic hedonism availed itself of the end of the day, sticking and moving, sticking and moving, no longer sure what to think. Anemic elevation. Whorling combinations of thought declared illegal, confined to the back alleys of ontology. You really aren't all that unattractve when you comb the insects away from your miasma, leaving just a slight residue on the carpet for our olfactory enjoyment. Three-quarters of an illumination, half a nihilistic spectrum around which machine-grace can lasciviously embrace its own prayers for desire gratified. Animism is clearly no longer the enemy, its aesthetic absorbed centuries before our current predicament. Anomie washing its face in public toilets, a wan grin its only defence against the harsh stares of secretaries rushing by on their way to work. Plasma was definitely in style that spring, sucking its teeth imperiosuly at assistants, riding linoleum limousines everywhere as it hopelessly chased after the moon's encapsulating light.

http://arghfuckkill.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Three Shots in an Hour

2005-04-02T03:02:01Z

Tunnel through to the end of your forever. Applied eschatolgy now or then. Watching good looks eroded, biologically lost amidst cracks in the veneer. Somehow soup drove enlightenment to the machinic edges hidden by talent. Mixed information in degrees of eight tone panels studied thoroughly in the academies of love.

Calling attention to the Great Work sidling ultimately along lost directions to the stars. eep your face from melting metaphysics. Today regained a sense of the story of life's tragedy, reprobate on the cluttered sweat begging for disguised mercies here. Scenes televised on underground occult channels waiting for you.

The temerity required, a statement assaulted giving blood at the celestial radio-station. Separate information swathed paranoias in tight bluejeans beautifully. Forgotten islands crashing. Pataphysical transformations bet geophysical sectors on the time of your worst fears come true. The language was almost biblically deranged.

--a rough weekend in the mountains-chipped micro-realities crystallized--frightened whispers from black hoods--sugar tease trying to ramble my rose--wrists thrown to space, tapped lights flashing--access denied her morning coffee, she phoned the gates of poetry instead--framed inventiveness, ironic character all heart--angry fish abandoned shamelessly to express everything of my melancholia integrated--understand a large one to go--murderous vanguard kissing petals, trusted morning to remain silent--using fermented phrases like the Pope--twice architecture rubed my leg, a lascivious line of escape imprisoned in fire--it's all your fault

Ham and homefries slept peacefuly on the grill. Three times seven equals membrane, floating Zen. Ancient glandular memories are coming for dinner, so raise your flags and wap your gods in radioactivity. Grave misgivings latent by the side of a river. Psychotic barking, inchoate mountainside blissout coming straight from the heart.

Laughing dissent. Gigolos braid their own hair while in orbit around the moon. Panic strikes peanut-butter down with a single stroke. Glorious albums of the psychedelic era allude to amorous collapse. Swinging my feet around the sun. TRapped sonic glaciers repeal the laws of three, maniacally fetishize Bataille's celebrated solar anus.

We were as gods in those days

Intentional obfuscation slays giants every time
crossing pearls of wisdom with a cherished
ideological rancour at the hop

Had them over-the-hood-of-a-squad-car blues

Everything tombstoned, took a handful of pills to ride. Another day, another dead fish. Placid skies in her mediacl journal, columns abridged five years ago now. Struggling to aspyxiate my orgasm's open mouth in public, psychopathology astounded to find marvelous excerpts of draconian economic mythologies hooded and pornographic over the next.

A small argument, evanescence dying to live--Grappling ancestors thirty bones crackling and carnivalesque as innuendo--Pasta nebulously flirting with flashlights, denuded grace alight on the wind--Spontaneous exoskeletal penis flowering existential white-man's angst--Eight on the explanation, a sandwich flaking on the skin porous, yet egregious yellow verity remained--For Real--Bowing to the last historical mouth pried open, the only one still appropriate to the adverb's ceaseless clamoring for peace--Metaphysical penmanship awards undulating over turkey with soup gratings--A jail for the machine, a variety of tinctures tasting an old liver in your eyes--Needing black stars, Hiroshima captained the end of dust--Endless invention inverts the value of bourgeois art while simultaneously quarantining prayers, vignettes, and columns of alabaster--Your throat sugar hyperspatial discursive bleatings wander taxonomic hedges of the academy, bothering us with venal flourishes as crazy as running indifference, winks in the dark

Time charmed her, tasted her goodnness. Porkchps bled all the way to the hospital, shelving sin, the four-gated Buddha baby glacial and deranged

Precious tarot misses her cold walking. An earthquake aeroplanes who you are until hemmed-in melodic lines meet in heaven. Sangunity weathered a million people still alone. White middle-class toasters left broken-hearted

Just let out of the pagan room, godless heathens tasting their own ecstasy besides sweet misery. Architectural grace the most beautiful laugh skipped deveral sessions with our pet shaman, fearing surreptitious damnation in his headlights. Protective serpents climbed through two dollars knocked off

May it be sutured and sparkling until God decides otherwise

Apples, oranges, liver cancer calls to revisit unabashed logic

Free advice dividing away from me, spoiling spilt water

Big business just one remembrance insolvent, the truth formerly known as scrambled reflections of alarm

Crustacean antibiotics swallow all at once

Prerational operations distilled knowledge
closed biography batter's box formalism

Four colours available, unpleasantly silent and
allowing hydra-headed dreams their funeral

A strange light menacing semiotic structures
playing on the movie network

Syndicated consciousness vernacular rhythm falls
asleep leering at psychological clotting of the spirit

Quantum torquoise, unrepentant banality--Brunt weapons towering over suburban sleep patterns--Molecular passion peopled the law's catechism, stole its breath and sold it to tourists of the real--Scaled planes, refused blossomings, feeling my wish tangibly displaced into indigenous, alien copper phrasings--Whole grain dwarfing the hopeless--Spit flooding his civil war rags in prayer, the priest melting his perfect nobody the incline--Coarse language is advised, twisted static passed among the saints marching in--Slicing directives fedora crash the parties in the distance applied to him--Infinite aspirations are the key to it all, invincible stars

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 2 replies

daevid allen, gong, etc.

2005-03-23T06:59:50Z

new tribe: radiognomeinvisible.tribe.net

join!

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Surrealist Games, 03/05/05

2005-03-06T12:16:20Z

Authors: David "Starchy" Grant, Richard Joslin, Lenka Belkova, Fiona Campignon, Conor Fahey, Caroline Christman, Shawn of Unknown Surname, Mark and Philip from The Beards

Definitions
each word defined without knowledge of the word

Liver: the cost of true love in a vacuum

Inspiration: never the first time you meet her, and only sometimes the second, but always true.

Amnesia: characterized by erratic prophesying

Hilarity: what's underneath the wallpaper

Tractor-pull: an energetic Latin dance in which both partners twist from side to side, then fall to the floor and writhe in seeming agony. This is followed by consumption of fish and fried eggs.

Inhibition: a chance encounter of an umbrella and a sewing machine on a disintegrating table

Lek: the third eastbound exit off U.S. Route 66

Heft: the inspiration felt during the application of genitalia to electricity

Self-immolation: an unexpected sneeze that causes general consternation and social unease

Selfish: the edible portion nearest the giblet

Infidelity: the mating dance of the sacred damselfly found above the secret waterfall that bathes the turtle on which the world rests. It often involves decorative fans and elaborate hairdos.

Work: the act of hurling a monk into a wheat thresher on Tuesday

Prostitution: offering advice unsolicited

Dissipation: is rarely seen in vehicles exceeding forty miles per hour

Ash: a delectable spread for baked goods created by squeezing blood from a stone, a carrot, and an ogre, then mixing with sugar and egg whites until soft peaks form.

Excrement: the toxic filter for the human body

Religion: an unnecessary anxiety felt before completion of such mundane tasks as ordering pizza or answering the phone

Spurs: the most forceful possible degradation

Kepler's Third Law: when you're done smoking, and it tastes like cardboard--

Climax: an excruciating accusation of impropriety

Posture: a wire strung across two points drawn tight as to vibrate waves of sound

Literature: the cause or force impelling an object toward the sunrise

Licorice Whip: a theory used to explain, falsely, the relationship of dwarves and bad pastries

Ownership: the fear of gravitational attraction

Cuticle: a state of inebriation possible only in the Lower Jurassic

Institutionality: the phenomenon of praying to a supreme being for world peace when all you really want is more beer

Groin injury: a small hole through which heat can escape

Dinghy: an inflatable device used only in hospitals

Indifference: the disparity between act and intent

Ploy: that time you told him what you really thought about his work. At the drug store. You remember.

Ointment: a mechanical device for the keeping of time

Pop Music: the only good reason I can think of for killing yourself

Frying Pan: not easily defined in these postmodernist times

Poetic Corpses
each line written without knowledge of any other line or the title

Pierce the Face the Face the Dream Weaken That Distance From in Between

Toast the alligator, for is he not reliably numb?
Floating, breadsticks all asunder
Leaping, twisted, sprained and spry
Jealousy, days and week
Innocence, rose and cheek
The bear broke the window and, with a roar, killed a poor woody
He will not need a Christmas anymore.

Lick the Leapord

Tendrils, toe hairs, tee square thongs
The chimney was clogged, Woody was cold
The sails of Gay Paree flying, and burning down--
Money talks, and then it laughs when you ask too have It all Back.

Upon a Midsummer's Groin

Wine, wine, groin and chaff
My condition was that of a guava in a walrus-lung
Bottles shining so powerful
In the slivered glass they appear lifeless, intangible, jello-like and odiferous.

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Suicide Cellar

2005-02-22T01:25:33Z

Her time had become rusted, fragmented into varicose fire

Crimson breathed in her ear,
transforming causal fields for a song,
the line indigenous

She first noticed jeans blinking in
clemency through her window,
the borderland vomitting death
against the tanished walls of Sodom

Placid in its wake, her legs still
bleeding madness
out and over the sea

Sand pulsing through a rich man's mansion

Her chicken legs an archetypal equation, linking reason
shackled with a mantle hungry, systematically grinding planets

"Just lie mute. Relax into it," they had councelled her, "we're only
sneaking into your subconscious."

Pale and glassy-eyed with fear, she invoked infinity
tore barely-perceptible wires,
and planted blue shells in the walls

Left her alone, shivering in the rain and clutching a universe
It felt as though the city had left her to silence and saxophones

Her lover's pores opened up scales within her prayer. Religion rained down
then, scarring tissue she hadn't known existed. An omen brought by the lace
dwarves on duty that day. Recognizing the ice, painting a halo, seriously undertaken
meant for a king. Like a phoenix from the ashes passing a celebration, struggling to record her pious countenance.

"Icy blue saucers may or may not penetrate your psyche through a
vagina's tangible fear of combinational filters. Just be warned," Ariadne
chimed in her ear.

"Will I be caught there forever?"

"Quite possibly," Ariadne answered frankly. "But don't worry, you'll grow to love it there, I assure you."

Her spirit had indeed planted roots where time runs, establishing an
easiness with the painters of skulls. Grown thin nursing danger,
walking shadows through mirrors, entropy beckoned with a leprous finger.
Inveterate erosion burst through the pipes at the final origin, and nausea's
fatuity tattooed the best of both worlds on her tears.

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

A Surrealist Statement Against Torturocracy

2005-02-11T21:10:20Z

http://portland.indymedia.org/en/2004/08/295129.shtml

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 1 reply

Surrealist get-together??

2005-02-07T01:46:32Z

Let's organize a get-together?

Anyone here live in the SF Bay Area?

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 46 replies

Exquisite Corpse!

2005-01-04T16:07:33Z

Who's up for a game of exquisite corpse?

That's where you fold the paper in thirds or fourths, then one person draws the top part, leaving just a couple lines trailing onto the next part. Somebody else, looking just at those lines, continues the drawing, and passes it to another person to draw, etc. Finally, once the last panel's been drawn, the completed picture is unveiled, producing wild, bizarre, sometimes humorous results.

This game was popular among surrealists and other artists during the early twentieth century. Here's one done by Man Ray, Yves Tanguy, Joan Miro, and Max Morise.

http://www.cyberstars.com/ron-mike/ce2.html

So here's my idea: I'll draw something on a piece of paper, scan it in, and post just the bottom two thirds here. Anybody who wants to can print that out, continue the drawing (remember, just the middle third), then scan it back in, and post just the next couple lines, and post it to the tribe.

Um, then when all three panels have been completed, everybody post the finished panels, and we can piece them together to form an exquisite corpse!

Thus accomplishing the same feat as these great artists from the 30s, and only taking ten times as long to do it. Ah, the miracle of technology!

So... anybody interested? I'm only gonna post a picture if other people respond that they'd like to play.

Cmon, it'll be fun!

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 7 replies

When I need to untribe,

2004-11-14T07:02:24Z

I find myself here. Thank you for the respite

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 7 replies

Travestie

2004-11-06T01:54:11Z

Moi, je prefere le "action transvestite".

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 12 replies

More than just a game

2004-10-10T06:43:38Z

I invented a new surrealigion.

My web page: http://www.treatmentlabs.com/wibble.html
My tribe for it: http://wibble.tribe.net/

posted in Ceci n'est pas une Tribe - 0 replies

Ceci n'est pas une Tribe's topics - tribe.net

StarFish Journal Seeking Submissions!

Legend of the Now

flarf

StarFish Journal

Die down your daily mind in Himalaya!

Eating the Oneiric

Surrealist Visual Art Submissions Wanted

New Surrealist Hub

Dali @ LACMA

the way to Christ is simple

The Magritte show...

chuck roast, pork roast, leg of lamb roast

surrealist jokes

Magritte and the Urban Man

This is a topic

Dream Matter

The Larval Vogue

from http://www.surrealartforum.com/artlinks.htm

"Ceci n'est pas un pipe" t-shirt!

Undercover Surrealism

cascade of mirrors

ceci n'est pas une chanson d'amour

●Teaching about resonance

New Surrealist Cubist Painter...

Butoh School Photo Journal

Butoh School Photo Journal

guide to the deepest butoh method

Recombinant Aragon

cec n'est pas l'oiseau

Individuated, Defeated

This is not a subject

The Surreal McCoys

Philip Lamantia 1927-2005

Intake: One

De l'un a l'autre

genius blog alert

This is not a Tribe.

Parlor Game: A Free Iraq

Ceci n'est pas un post

Semiotic Potato

Three Shots in an Hour

daevid allen, gong, etc.

Surrealist Games, 03/05/05

Suicide Cellar

A Surrealist Statement Against Torturocracy

Surrealist get-together??

Exquisite Corpse!

When I need to untribe,

Travestie

More than just a game

●Teaching　about resonance