40 min
There It Is (part 1) JaSar's Podcast
-
- Arts
Anything that punches holes in the ordinary has the potential of value.
Set List as follows in which each piece is integrated and interchanged sporadically throughout the show. Not at all in the order of the list.
1. Performance w/ James Fox/Mick Jagger- filmed in 1968 by Nicolas Roeg & Donald Cammell. Written by Cammell with music by Jack Nitzsche.
2. Mozart - Requiem
3. Samuel Beckett - How It Is - read by Sarah Berthume
4. Gertrude Stein - How To Write - read by Jason Berthume
5. Tom Waits - Wait till Yesterday
6. ESP - East Side Percussion
7. KECAK - Balinese Music Drama
8. Jefferson Airplane - Wooden Ships
9. Frank Black - Bartholomew
10.Tom Waits - Regret #1 #2
11.The Band - When You Awake
12.Tom Waits - Cold Cold Ground
13.Jefferson Airplane - Plastic Fantastic Lover
14.Frank Black - Headed My Way
15.Tom Waits - You'll Have To Wait till Yesterdays Here
The true trend of the poet in my mind is the symbolic use of a more personal jargon which I referred to earlier as the old sign language no longer served. Although, I say it with a mad, hallucinated grin. Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have , but now I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity, I belong to my madness, my excrement, my ecstasy, to the great circuit which flows through the subterranean vaults of the flesh. A man who belongs to this race must stand up on a high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. One has to earn death with all one’s appetites, refuse no poison, reject no experience however degrading or sordid. One has to come to the end of one’s forces, learn that one is a slave - in whatever realm - in order to desire emancipation. And anything that falls short of this frightening spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less intoxicated, less contaminating, is not art. You put on a bishop’s robe and miter, he pondered, and walk around in that, and people bow, genuflect and like that, try to kiss your ring, if not your ass, and pretty soon you’re a bishop. So to speak. What is identity? He asked himself. Where does the act end. The identity of the purveyors of the poisons concocted of brain-destructive filth shot daily, taken orally daily, smoked daily by several million men and women-or rather, that were once men and women- is gradually being unraveled.
The rest is counterfeit. The rest is human. The rest belongs to life and lifelessness. The benevolent pride of the genius lies in his will which must be broken. The secret to deliverance lies in the practice of charity.
the
Impostor
Anything that punches holes in the ordinary has the potential of value.
Set List as follows in which each piece is integrated and interchanged sporadically throughout the show. Not at all in the order of the list.
1. Performance w/ James Fox/Mick Jagger- filmed in 1968 by Nicolas Roeg & Donald Cammell. Written by Cammell with music by Jack Nitzsche.
2. Mozart - Requiem
3. Samuel Beckett - How It Is - read by Sarah Berthume
4. Gertrude Stein - How To Write - read by Jason Berthume
5. Tom Waits - Wait till Yesterday
6. ESP - East Side Percussion
7. KECAK - Balinese Music Drama
8. Jefferson Airplane - Wooden Ships
9. Frank Black - Bartholomew
10.Tom Waits - Regret #1 #2
11.The Band - When You Awake
12.Tom Waits - Cold Cold Ground
13.Jefferson Airplane - Plastic Fantastic Lover
14.Frank Black - Headed My Way
15.Tom Waits - You'll Have To Wait till Yesterdays Here
The true trend of the poet in my mind is the symbolic use of a more personal jargon which I referred to earlier as the old sign language no longer served. Although, I say it with a mad, hallucinated grin. Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have , but now I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity, I belong to my madness, my excrement, my ecstasy, to the great circuit which flows through the subterranean vaults of the flesh. A man who belongs to this race must stand up on a high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. One has to earn death with all one’s appetites, refuse no poison, reject no experience however degrading or sordid. One has to come to the end of one’s forces, learn that one is a slave - in whatever realm - in order to desire emancipation. And anything that falls short of this frightening spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less intoxicated, less contaminating, is not art. You put on a bishop’s robe and miter, he pondered, and walk around in that, and people bow, genuflect and like that, try to kiss your ring, if not your ass, and pretty soon you’re a bishop. So to speak. What is identity? He asked himself. Where does the act end. The identity of the purveyors of the poisons concocted of brain-destructive filth shot daily, taken orally daily, smoked daily by several million men and women-or rather, that were once men and women- is gradually being unraveled.
The rest is counterfeit. The rest is human. The rest belongs to life and lifelessness. The benevolent pride of the genius lies in his will which must be broken. The secret to deliverance lies in the practice of charity.
the
Impostor
40 min