The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

A Practicum on Divination via Cleromancy
Hebeloma Crustuliniforme
(link to main page of novel)

April

April 1, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

It cannot be said that the daydreams of Antimachus focused exclusively on the physical conquest of the minotaur nor that the culmination of each idle fantasy required the victorious spilling of the beast's life blood. On the contrary, sometimes Antimachus imagined that the beast was subject to the same debilitating limitations as were those whom King Minos had forced into the maze as a sacrificial offering.

When a companion appeared out of the darkness and came to a standstill beside Antimachus, the latter put the question to him, "Don't you think, Demoleon, it possible that prolonged deprivation from the morning chorus of songbirds, the warmth of the high sun at noon, and the cooling breeze in the crepuscular hour disturbs the minotaur no less than it does the rest of us trapped underground with it?"

Demoleon agreed wholeheartedly that the oppression of the labyrinth, without hope of cessation, bordered on the intolerable. Yet, they all continued, each exerting some effort to prevent the corruption of their spirits by despairs wrought in darkness. "The question, which concerns me," he said to Antimachus, "is not whether the beast shares our secret flaws but rather how long we can continue before we adopt the unconcealed depravity that has come to define the beast."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (October 19, 2003, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 2, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Melite faced the tunnel wall and placed the palms of both hands on the cool stone. She experienced the tactile sensation of rock, unyielding in contrast to her own flesh and maintaining a temperature far below that of her body. She also experienced a sense of disappointment, for she had hoped that the external force of the solid material would remind her that the relationship between the labyrinth and herself was merely one of circumstantial location and temporary occupant. Instead, the growing premonition that she was becoming an extension of the labyrinth intensified. Neither for the first time nor the last did Melite forgive the stone for the cruelties it imposed upon her. When she heard a woman's footsteps approaching along the dark corridor, she let her hands fall to her sides.

Europe stopped beside Melite and adopted a position, shoulder to shoulder, facing the stone wall. "Have you found something interesting?" she asked.

"Oh, what a question!" Melite replied with unintended vehemence.

Europe scrutinized the stone but found nothing save the ordinary result of geological processes, eons in the making. She misinterpreted Melite's interest in the stone as a rapture induced by the inanimate appeal of petrification. Upon such a topic had Europe's thoughts recently dwelt.

In the labyrinth, thoughts also follow circuitous routes and may become separated from the wandering bodies in which they originated. The probability of successful communication between two individuals is thus reduced, for it requires the juxtaposition of two minds and two bodies, an exceedingly unlikely coincidence.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-7 (October 19, 2003, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 3, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Menestheus maintained no illusions that his gentle nature was anything but ill-suited to the barbarity of the world at large. While he certainly did not proclaim, "I am a man not made for this world," he was nonetheless acutely aware that he possessed no defense against many of the world's attacks, stemming from either the belligerence of his fellow man or the insentience of the physics-based reality. He readily accepted that, when the twisting paths of the labyrinth eventually brought him to the attention of the minotaur, his end would be swift and without a show of meaningful resistance. Menestheus found little reason to dwell on such thoughts, for he faced the more insidious but no less dangerous threat of the ever-present darkness, sapping the life from his soul.

It never crossed his mind to share any of his reflections with Periboea, the brave, she who constantly devised elaborate schemes to slay the beast. However, discovering Periboea, seated in the gloom at the end of a caved-in shaft, her arms wrapped around her knees pulled tight against her chest, Menestheus was moved to describe his helplessness. He confided to Periboea that he was content to be destroyed by the minotaur in part by the comfort offered in the knowledge that others would not yield so easily. He said aloud, "The thought that I might have helped strengthen your resolve, when you, in fact, prevail against the beast is, for me, a recurring source of relief."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-12 (October 19, 2003, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 4, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Before her selection as tribute to appease the minotaur of Crete, Andromache had been acknowledged in Athens as a budding musician of great potential. Her mastery of the flute at an early age had earned her a reputation as a child-prodigy. Her parents had purchased an instrument from a master craftsman at significant expense and had engaged the services of a tutor of considerable repute. Andromache made the most of the opportunity; she enjoyed playing and the attention she received. At that time, she did not play original compositions but rather interpreted the music of others. The applause at the end of a performance reinforced an understanding of her beneficial role within the community. In short, her music created joy.

In the labyrinth, Andromache played a crude, wooden miner's flute that she had found in an abandoned camp. She improvised long hours upon melodies of her own creation with no one but the subterranean darkness as her audience. Instead of applause filling the amphitheater, her playing was followed by the dying echoes of her music resonating against the unhewn stone of the cavern walls. Still, she did not cease playing.

Alerted to her presence by the sound of the flute, Hippophorbas sought her out. He had not heard the entirety of the song and asked her to start over. When Andromache demurred on the basis that the improvisation was a thing of the moment, which could not be replicated, Hippophorbas grew irritated. He mocked her for playing to no one and for dismissing the request of the single audience member she now had.

When Hippophorbas had departed, Andromache resumed playing. She created a song in which Hippophorbas found a music that soothed his spirit, soured by too many solitary hours in the labyrinth, then she allowed that song to dissipate, unheard by any other, into the darkness.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (August 2, 2003, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 5, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

It was true that Amphidocus sought to understand the motivation of those with whom he came into contact, both in his life prior to his incarceration within the labyrinth and after. It was not unjustified to suggest that his impetus for doing so was to discover a single motivation or some combination of them, which he could adopt as his own purpose. A logical consequence of this reasoning was that Amphidocus lacked any ulterior purpose beyond his current quest. Still, there were those who followed paths so alien to him that, though he might go through the motions to solicit their opinion, he already knew that he could draw little of personal benefit from their example.

He considered Melanippe, the cartographer, just such an individual. She was consumed by a single-minded pursuit of what many regarded as a fool's errand, namely the mapping of the interminable and unfathomable labyrinth. In the privacy of his thoughts, Amphidocus described her with the somewhat unflattering sobriquet, Mela the Mad Mapper. What could he learn from her maniacal dedication to a lost cause?

When their paths crossed, Melanippe showed him the scribbled tangle of passages she had recently explored. She smiled as she looked him in the eye. "Sometimes, I think my task is impossible, but then I think of you and the much more nebulous challenge you have undertaken in uncovering the forces that drive each of us. I gain confidence from your example and, by comparison, I am satisfied that I have a very well-posed labor."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-5 (August 2, 2003, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 6, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Upon their arrival in the labyrinth, the fourteen sacrificial victims had thought to scatter, thinking only of increasing the likelihood of their individual survival. As the patience of the minotaur was made manifest and their time within the maze grew, it is reasonable to imagine that they would have gathered again, perhaps not all of them, forming smaller groups or pairs. That no groups formed can be attributed to the sense of isolation, which was an ubiquitous emanation of the subterranean passages; solitary wandering was the natural and insurmountable state.

Eurymedusa dwelt alone in the cold, black waters of the underground lake. She could expect none of her companions to join her for even long exposure had not entirely conditioned her body to the undeniable chill. Truth be told, she had become accustomed to having the lake to herself. She enjoyed visitors passing by along the bank but harbored no desire to share her watery domain.

Although she said nothing of the sort to Idas, he observed, rather indiscreetly it must be said, "You have become akin to the minotaur. It too does not like to share its labyrinth with others."

Eurymedusa, of course, did not appreciate being likened to a monster any more than anyone would. However, she prized the integrity of logic and found no flaw in Idas' reasoning. Eurymedusa floated on her back, staring up at the jagged shadows of the cavern ceiling, imagining herself as the minotaur. We suppose that this moment of reflection could have spurred Eurymedusa to alter her behavior. That it did not simply confirms the most obvious trait of the labyrinth: its narrow corridors restricted movement and prohibited spontaneous redirection.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-9 (August 2, 2003, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 7, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

It was said that miners first delved into the Earth, creating the shafts that formed the passageways of the labyrinth. The exploratory and meandering tunnels, which they left behind, had followed the contours of the veins of ore, distributed without any methodical plan, or so it seemed to them. Centuries would pass before King Minos hired Daedalus to comprehend the pattern by which the stone had guided the shovels of men. The genius of Daedalus designed connections between the man-made shafts and the naturally occurring caverns in such a way that the madness of the labyrinth was realized.

So Demoleon was right to recognize that a conspiracy of both humans and the cosmos had contrived to manufacture the prison in which he was now immured. Being right, of course, had limited advantage to those powerless to rectify their plight. "Is it not," Demoleon asked Hesione, when she passed his way, "better to be wrong and remain ignorant of one's error?"

Hesione expressed her doubt. "Little brother, what lie could make tolerable the dark truth of our predicament?"

"That it was only an accident!" he cried, as if nothing could have been more obvious. "That our lives were not intentionally squandered as part of some fool king's fantasy!"

Hesione attempted to imagine what comfort an inadvertent damnation provided over the ordinary kind of deliberate perdition in which they now dwelt. The labyrinth had so worked its madness into Hesione that she proved unable to envision the form of her salvation.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 10-13 (August 2, 2003, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 8, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

A resolute show of resistance against an entity whom one does not believe to exist is difficult to maintain. It is the rare soul who finds value in exerting the continuous effort to remain vigilant against an unreal foe, no matter how pernicious its supposed powers. More common by far is it to turn one's efforts to the mundane but certain threats to the well-being of one's self and loved ones. Europe, who denied the existence of the minotaur, wavered in her dedication to display her disregard for the threat of the beast which so haunted the others in the labyrinth. She found a constant show of nonchalance tiresome. Indeed she felt deeply the temptation to forget the minotaur and to turn her attention to the practical matters of constructing a meaningful life in the subterranean darkness.

Antimachus, the daydreamer, approached Europe and declared, "Today, instead of imagining how I might slay the beast, I took a trick from you and dreamt that minotaur did not exist."

"How did you fare in your daydream?" Europe asked, idly.

Known for his outrageous fancies, Antimachus' reply should not have surprised the maiden. "We fell in love, you and I. On our wedding night, we discovered many of our assumptions had been in error. The minotaur did exist! It ambushed us and our blood mixed and pooled in the nuptial bed."

Europe laughed despite herself. To believe or not believe came to much the same thing. Fantasies upon fantasies--such is the way of human life!

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 14-17 (August 2, 2003, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 9, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

Since he had discovered the intricate geological formation in the cavern, which he had come to call the crystal temple, Porphyrion had found a great joy in solitary meditation, surrounded by the myriad of fragile, faceted spines. He sought to share the experience with others not out of a sense of evangelization on behalf of the divine but rather as an exercise in human generosity. Porphyrion wished others to know the same peace that he accessed through the temple.

Wandering aimlessly through the maze, Melite found prints in the dust of a tunnel and followed them to the temple entrance. When someone is known for a particular virtue, as Melite was known for her forgiving nature, she can become defined by it. Modest, ephemeral deviations from her merciful attitude are regarded by others in a much more glaring light than would be the case coming from another.

So it was that Porphyrion found Melite most ruthless as she questioned the value of his attachment to the temple. "It is by haphazard chance alone that such a place came to be. On a whim you have become infatuated by its beauty. Can you not see your arbitrary devotion for what it is?"

Porphyrion did not answer but let her words dissipate in the air. The pressure waves induced by her speaking reverberated briefly in the crystals before being rendered harmless. Thankfully, not a single crystal was perceptibly altered, for, though the temple was indeed an artefact of natural geological processes, it lacked the ability to mend itself. Any damage Melite might have inflicted would have remained as a testament to her weakness, long after she ceased to wander the labyrinthine corridors.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 1 (November 16, 2002, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 10, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Despite the extended period that Hippophorbas had spent within the labyrinth, he remained unable to predict where any given passage would lead him. His inability to forecast what lay before him was not limited to his physical surroundings but applied equally well to the circuitous evolution of his thoughts, which seemed to wander through their own internal maze. So it happened one day, while he was attempting to discover a fundamental reason for his incarceration within the mine, that Hippophorbas began to contemplate whether his thinking was merely an exercise in apophenia. Was he creating a narrative to fit an empirical collection of data points, into which he, in his random walk, had stumbled? His next thought provided further consternation. Hippophorbas endeavored to embrace humility, but was it not an act of unmitigated arrogance to twist reality to conform to an arbitrary, individual perception?

When Hippophorbas encountered Europe, a maiden whom he admired greatly for her headstrong resolve, he shared his doubts with her. To his surprise, Europe was adamant that he continue his analysis. She found no contradiction between the dual pursuit of humility and apophenia. "What is more meek than the admission that one has no place in the world because the world itself is devoid of meaning and does not intrinsically offer succor to anyone? Is not the house of fantasy, which you seek to construct, built upon such a foundation?"

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-7 (November 16, 2002, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 11, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

In her endeavor to map the labyrinth, Melanippe entered the knot of tunnels and shafts that served as the foyer to the cavern, which Porphyrion had dubbed the crystal temple. Having more than a little practice rendering the contortions of the maze onto parchment, she was not especially dismayed by the challenge these passages presented.

Eventually, Melanippe reached the main entrance to the temple cavern, where she found Porphyrion standing. Apparently, he had been aware of her proximity and had waited for her to arrive at his doorstep. He greeted her warmly, as he did all visitors to his temple.

Melanippe supposed that her labor served the interests of Porphyrion. When her map was shared, others would be able to visit the temple at will, without the necessity of wandering for hours in the tangle of surrounding tunnels. Surely, the complexity of such an obstacle could dissuade the less zealous from reaching their destination.

Porphyrion understood that Melanippe considered the benefit of her map to lie in making it easier for people to find his temple. He supposed her conjecture could have a grain of truth to it, but, at the same time, Porphyrion held to a belief that the true entrance into the temple required a spiritual rather than geographical journey. He therefore privately regarded the map as little more than a good luck charm. Of course, he also recognized that Melanippe invested in her labor, and by extension the map, the significance of her very purpose. Porphyrion welcomed Melanippe inside, where he congratulated her on her work thus far and enthusiastically encouraged her to create a masterpiece of cartography, the likes of which could be displayed as a work of art and devotion in the hallowed halls of the grand museum of Athens or another equally cosmopolitan capital.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 1 (March 13, 2003, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 12, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

Idas, the curious, entered an enormous cavern, its far side lost in the depths of darkness. To his surprise, it seemed unfamiliar. Given the amount of time he had spent in the labyrinth, he supposed that he would already have encountered a chamber of this size, but the tortuous paths of the mine seemed to intersect an inexhaustible supply of natural grottoes and galleries. Idas attempted to ascertain the extent of the shadows with his ears, first by tossing a pebble then, failing that, by gauging the lag before his echoed shout return to him.

Instead he drew a response from Menestheus who had been engaged in activities unknown at some distant, unseen point within the cavern. The two youths greeted each other, as if there was nothing more natural for the living than to lurk alone in damp, unlit spaces beneath the Earth. Following an exchange of pleasantries, Idas broached a subject long of interest to him, "Menestheus, if you were able to ask one question of the minotaur, what would it be?"

Menestheus considered the query for some time. No clock ticked in the cave so neither he nor Idas felt the need to hurry. In the end, Menestheus settled on a question for which there could be no answer. Because it was impossible to know if others hid silently in the vast, surrounding darkness, Menestheus leaned forward and whispered his response in Idas' ear. Idas was secretly pleased because he, like Menestheus, accepted that the importance of all of the great questions lay not in any reply, which they might prompt, but in the asking.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-5 (March 13, 2003, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 13, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

Hour after hour, the confinement of the labyrinth persisted. It mattered neither whether Hesione stood unmoving at the intersection of several tunnels nor whether she ran headlong through them, still she could not escape her internment. Obviously, the solution was to turn inward and find release in an internal freedom. While this approach works for some individuals, each of us is cast differently. To expect liberation from within to provide a universal balm is disingenuous or, at best, naïve. Some of us genuinely require the company of others to find our own peace.

So it was with Hesione, who had adopted as her siblings the other thirteen with whom she had been marched into the labyrinth. When she heard the faint echoes of a flute winding through the dank air, she hurriedly followed the sound, hoping to reach the source before the musician ceased playing. Her efforts were not in vain.

Hesione discovered Andromache standing in a mid-sized chamber of a geometry that generated pleasing acoustics. The latter paused when she noticed Hesione's arrival. "Little sister," Hesione called to Andromache, "keep playing." The two maidens, one playing, one silent, circled each other in languid orbits. Each drew strength from the other, alternating the roles of the sun and the tree, the one accepting nourishment from the other, before returning the favor. To be clear, this was a dance that did not satisfy the conservation of energy, as demanded by the first law of thermodynamics. These two women accessed a secret reserve not accounted for in the stern, zero-sum dictate formalized millennia later by Rudolf Clausius.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-9 (March 13, 2003, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 14, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

At any given instant, the degree to which Antimachus felt secure from the threat of the minotaur depended very little upon the actual proximity of the beast and more so upon his own state of mind. If the dreary routine of wandering through crooked, stone passageways wore heavily on him, his uneasiness increased; anxiety regarding distant sounds emanating from elsewhere in the mine occurred with greater frequency and provoked a lingering agitation. Antimachus also seemed more susceptible to the suspicion that the malevolent thoughts of the minotaur, however near or far it might have been to him at that moment, were bent specifically on his own person.

"It's possible," agreed his friend, Amphidocus, when the pair ran into each other at an intersection in the labyrinth. "I also sometimes think of you, at odd moments when we are far apart."

"But you don't imagine tearing me limb from limb and devouring my choicest pieces," Antimachus suggested.

"No," Amphidocus agreed. "I do not." He added after a brief pause, "I suppose I could, though, if it helped to dilute the fear you focus on the minotaur."

They discussed this proposition for a while--whether it was better to be very frightened of one terrible thing or slightly afraid of many smaller things. Comparing the pros and cons of a sharp, gut-wrenching terror with a dull, ubiquitous dread, they were unable to declare one preferable to the other. In any case, it seemed ordinary existence involved some random oscillation between the two extremes.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (March 2, 2002, The Doors, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 15, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Traveling a seldom-used passage, a drop of water fell on Melite's shoulder. Her attention was drawn to the stone ceiling, where she discovered a soft spot of sandstone, through which water slowly descended. With some effort she arranged several rocks on the floor, which she then ascended to scrutinize the point. With naught but the pressure of a fingernail, she was able to define an area of moist, forgiving stone greater in circumference than her modest girth. She was moved to wield a rock of sturdier material as a chisel. As she worked, the sand mixed with the absorbed water to form dirty, pendant droplets. They hung precariously, until disturbed by her labor, at which point they fell upon her arms, her face and her gown.

Melite told herself that she hoped, not for escape, but for a window through which she might feel the warmth of the sun on her face again. She managed to make a rounded impression about a foot deep, before her strength was exhausted. Filthy, she slumped against the wall of the passage as one-by-one, drops fell at her feet.

Melite wandered to the subterranean lake, where Eurymedusa found her in such a pitiful state that she was moved to wash her. As Eurymedusa picked grains of sand out of her hair, Melite described her window-in-progress.

To be honest, the labyrinth betrayed Melite, who later proved unable to retrace her steps and find the soft spot in the earth. For other wanderers who trod past the pile of sand, left haphazardly in the middle of the passage, they did not connect the odd-shaped hole in the ceiling, if they noticed it at all, with the yearning of one who wished to be free.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 9-12 (March 2, 2002, The Doors, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 16, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

Armed only with a mattock, Periboea, the brave, hunted the minotaur. It was not an especially formidable weapon. She'd found it in the mine, abandoned as unusable. The end with the adze had fractured, though the pick remained intact. In the long years during which the tool had lain unused, the wooden handle had begun to rot. Periboea suspected it might splinter at first impact. Such was her determination to face the beast that she did not allow an inferior armament to dissuade her from her pursuit.

Alerted to the presence of another by the echo of clattering rocks, Periboea stealthily crept through the unlit tunnel. She could not with certainty state that she proceeded in the right direction, for the sound was not repeated and, of course, the labyrinth obfuscated all intent.

Not for the first time, while stalking her monstrous prey, did Periboea instead track down one of her companions in the mine. On this occasion Demoleon's eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a form behind him, until he recognized Periboea.

"It's just me," he said. His relief mingled with her disappointment. Mistaking her dismay for bloodlust gone unsated--a trait better left in his opinion to the minotaur--Demoleon suggested an alternative way to stop the predations of the minotaur. "We have only to teach it virtue," he said. "Then the beast will see the error of its ways and terrorize us no more."

Periboea debated whether such a remark deserved a reply. Eventually, she opted to speak, stating rather quietly, "Demoleon, you are not a hunter, or you would know that if you wait for your quarry to give itself up of its own accord, you will go hungry that night."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 13-18 (March 2, 2002, The Doors, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 17, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

The music of Andromache's flute navigated the irregular acoustics of the labyrinth in very different ways, depending upon her location. At times the instrument was smothered by a peculiar bend in a passage, which turned the music back upon itself. At other points, the expansion of a tunnel into a cavern amplified the music as if she played in an amphitheater designed for such a purpose. In this way, the insentient environment contributed to the nuances of each performance. "I like to think," said Andromache to Melite, when their paths crossed, "that I also have a role in determining the kind of music that emerges."

Melite, who found the playing of Andromache far too doleful for her tastes, suspected that the confines of the labyrinth influenced her music in more significant ways than simply adjusting the local acoustics. "Play a song of forgiveness," she requested of Andromache.

The flautist put the instrument to her lips, drew a breath, then pulled it away. "Who are we forgiving?"

Melite replied, "We forgive the labyrinth for the frustration of its dead-ends...and you, who proved able neither to withstand the darkness nor to restrain yourself from spreading its gloom...and me for finding fault with the way that people make sense of the world."

The song that Andromache played in response to this request was something to hear. Although millennia have passed since the reverberations of her flute first sounded, if you find a quiet space and put your ear to a patch of hard ground, you may still be able to catch an echo of the melody.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-9 (November 18, 2000, Vooruit, Gent, Belgium, digital files)

April 18, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

In the labyrinth, the sun could not provide a measure of the hours of the day nor was there a means to distinguish one day from the next. No festivals were held to celebrate the vernal equinox nor the winter solstice nor any other day of the year. Amphidocus entertained the possibility that the absence of clocks and calendars offered the opportunity to appreciate each moment on its own terms and not in the context of what it augured or recalled.

Amphidocus shared this observation with Periboea, the brave, who discounted his optimistic appraisal out of hand. "Rubbish!" she declared with such conviction that he dropped any pretense of disagreement.

"Then what are we do to about this parade of endless, indistinguishable minutes, hours, days and years spent wandering aimlessly within the maze?" He thought this brash question fair, given Periboea's own brazen words.

When one speaks of the courage of Periboea, one notes her headstrong defiance and her willingness to confront the mortal threat of the minotaur. One can only suppose that this variety of valor could be translated from a threat to her physical well-being to the existential attack on her peace of mind. Periboea herself would not have equated the two qualities. She preferred to risk her life taking action against the beast because she had no ready defense against the ravages of the labyrinth itself.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (May 22, 2000, The Garage, London, England, digital files)

April 19, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Eurymedusa rarely emerged fully from her underground lake. Even when she withdrew to the isolated shelf, accessible only by swimming and then only to those who knew of its existence, she often kept one leg draped over the ledge, dangling a foot in the water. From this remote sanctuary, echoes collected from various locales within the surrounding labyrinth. These messages took the form of a brief clatter of stones, an incomprehensible grunt, the ageless groaning of tectonics and, on occasion, sobbing. Eurymedusa attached what approximate meaning she could to these transmissions, given the limited context available to her.

Sound waves travel faster in water than in air, because the density of the medium is greater. The hearing apparatus of the human ear, however, is attenuated to function in air. When Eurymedusa submerged herself in the lake, the information arrived more quickly but through a filter that distorted some frequencies while muting others. She found that her interpretation of the meaning attached to the messages was altered by intermediate presence of water.

In a moment of candor, she shared this observation with Hippophorbas, who had wandered by the bank of the lake. In reply, the young man offered the following invitation, "Eurymedusa, if the mere physical material around you changes the import of the messages you hear, think how much more the message would be transformed if you listened, not in your self-imposed isolation, but in the company of those who love you!"

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-12 (May 22, 2000, The Garage, London, England, digital files)

April 20, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

It is said of Demoleon that he prized virtue above all else, but in the labyrinth every individual became a manifestation of an axis spanning a spectrum from one particular virtue to its corresponding vice. For a character trait as ambiguous as 'virtue', a more specific idea can be resolved by consideration of the flaw with which it was contrasted. In the case of Demoleon, that vice was depravity, which is also a rather nebulous and inclusive trait, associated not only with licentiousness, debauchery and perversion of conventional sexual desires, but likewise with other varieties of wicked behavior that lead to the dissipation and degradation of the self and others.

It had been a requirement of the offering to the minotaur that the seven youths and seven maidens, presented as sacrificial victims, be virgins. It seems unreasonable to assume that, if one seals in a mine fourteen teenagers, they should not seek carnal comforts in its dark and winding passages. Preoccupied by such thoughts, Demoleon encountered Melanippe, the cartographer, wandering alone, intent only on the shape of the paths that she faithfully committed to parchment.

Demoleon spoke openly of his uncertainty concerning whether a conflict existed between his pursuit of virtue and his desires. These words prompted Melanippe to study the walls of the tunnel more carefully, as if searching for some geological anomaly to which she could attribute what she regarded as Demoleon's unsolicited advances.

In the end, they parted in the same state as they had met. Demoleon had an opportunity to exercise the virtue he so prized and one spot on Melanippe's map now bore an asterisk, which served as a warning not to return here alone.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (November 13, 1999, Spaceland, Los Angeles, United States, digital files)

April 21, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Because the minotaur did not exist, Europe did not suffer from the same fears as her companions in the labyrinth, who believed otherwise. Still, the human capacity for fear could not be eliminated entirely, so where the thought of a bull-headed visage inspired terror in the others, Europe had to make do with more mundane dread. Principal among her concerns was maintaining her steady disbelief in the minotaur. Her skepticism had come to define her and she risked losing trust in herself should her convictions fail her. But waver she did for the evidence of the beast was all around her. What else could be responsible for the distant bellowing in the mine that filled every passage in the maze with its rage? What else would have scored the stone walls with its horns or left impossibly immense hoofprints in the gravel? What other sort of threat could have driven King Minos to discard the promising lives of fourteen youths so wastefully?

She said none of this to Idas when their paths crossed. He seemed in a cheerful mood. "I'm so glad to have found you," he told her, smiling broadly.

Betraying her own dour mood, she asked, "Why is that?"

Idas thought the answer obvious and said in reply, "I'm safe with you because you do not believe! I suspect the minotaur would not dare face one who wields the possibility that it is nothing more than a figment of the collective dismay of those less determined to doubt."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-9 (November 13, 1999, Spaceland, Los Angeles, United States, digital files)

April 22, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Porphyrion slept in the crystal temple for he had no other abode in which to pass the hours spent outside his regular devotions. Besides, it had become unclear to him whether living itself was not the essence of prayer. Sleep was an essential component of life and, as such, of devotion too. To add weight to this argument, as Porphyrion slept, he dreamt that the gods on high descended to his subterranean sanctuary. They chose to adopt the peculiar form of the minotaur during this visitation, but Porphyrion had no fear of the creature, imbued as it was with divine grace. A veritable bull in a porcelain shop, it nevertheless moved with fastidious precision as it navigated the fragile spines of mineral growths that defined the temple. The gods opted not to speak to Porphyrion in words, their mere presence message enough.

Porphyrion had not been awake long and was still in the reverie of the dream when Hesione appeared at the entrance to the cavern. "Little brother," she called, for he was the youngest of the fourteen delivered to labyrinth. "Have I woken you?"

He mistook Hesione for a continuation of his vision. That the transfigurational power of the gods should be instant and perfect was expected. He accommodated Hesione as if she were a Holy Mother, treatment which she found kind, amusing, and embarrassing all at the same time. She did not stay long.

The manner of Hesione's departure convinced Porphyrion that she had not been a dream. Because he viewed her visit as an extension of that of the minotaur, he reached the mistaken conclusion that the visit of the beast had been real as well.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (November 11, 1999, Graceland, Seattle, United States, digital files)

April 23, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Menestheus accepted that his time in the labyrinth was finite. Occasionally, his sense of mortality seemed very relevant, almost prescient, while at other times, it seemed to toy with him, splaying the hours before him as if life were an endless ball of yarn unrolling, and he, a cat unable to control his impulses. In each case the minotaur played a disparate, contradictory role. When Menestheus felt his death near, it was the voracious minotaur who seemed the most likely threat to snatch his breath away. And when he was waylaid by the glacial movement of life within the labyrinth, it was the minotaur who refused to offer him a way out, or at least to send him fleeing in terror, so that he might find within his biological impulses a renewed interest in self-preservation.

When Menestheus met Antimachus at a crooked intersection in the maze, he plainly described the duality of the minotaur to him. For his part, Antimachus replied, "Two roles are not enough. You need to work harder to be more creative in thinking about other possibilities. Is there not an infinite number of points between the two antithetical limits you have described? Can you not begin by finding one intermediate point and expanding upon it? For example, consider that the dilation of time is harnessed to anguish. When misery is in great abundance it slows and, in joy, accelerates. In this case, the minotaur is like a dispenser of provisions, doling out to each his allotted share of suffering." Seeing that his words did not soothe Menestheus, Antimachus added, "Cheer up, my friend! There is yet hope. Like any steward, the minotaur is imperfect, susceptible to manipulation by flattery or bribery. Therein lies a means to exert a measure of control over its rationing and thus maintain a safe position somewhere in the middle of the two destructive extremes that plague you."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (November 6, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 24, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Melanippe, the cartographer, presented to Antimachus the recent additions to her map of the labyrinth. She pointed out to him a grotto, which could be entered only by passing a row of stalactites and stalagmites that gave the appearance of jagged fangs about an enormous, gaping maw.

"I have no desire to be eaten," Antimachus confessed.

Next, Melanippe showed a byzantine network of intersecting tunnels, only one of which led to the crystal temple of Porphyrion, where the smooth facets of delicate calcite and selenite adorned the cavern walls like fine jewels.

"Trapped within this stone maze, we have fallen beneath the notice of the gods. What need have I for a place of prayer?" he said.

Finally, Melanippe revealed the entrance to a secret passageway leading to the bottom of a shaft of indeterminable height, in which clear, pure water fell like night rain from the darkness above.

Still Antimachus would not see the value in her map. "Even a toad, trapped at the bottom of a well, has a circular window to the blue sky of day. How much greater is our degradation that we rejoice to discover a pit without sunlight?"

Irked by his stubborn mood, Melanippe asked, "Where would you have my map lead you?" She added as an unnecessary reminder, "The route by which we entered the mine is sealed."

Antimachus smiled ruefully. "What your map lacks is a path, which the labyrinth does not contain, leading to a chamber, which does not exist, possessing a tranquility that I shall never know."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-17 (November 6, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

April 25, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

For some, it is enough to present an unsolved problem in order to engage their interest. The mere presence of a riddle provides sufficient impetus to expend the time and effort to tackle it. For others, an understanding of the eventual impact of the solution is necessary before they are willing to commit their limited resources. This distinction seemed simple and obvious to Idas. However, he had heard it little discussed, given the dramatic effect it had on one's life-view.

Of course, life itself was a riddle. The willingness to engage life depended upon whether one was inclined to solve puzzles without need of justification or, rather, one required good cause. In the latter case, what was the consequence to one who took no reason for granted? Idas considered the minotaur in this light. Did the labyrinth present to the beast a mystery worth navigating or did it simply rampage out of fury and frustration at the convoluted nature of its prison?

Idas, known well by his friends for his curiosity, put these questions to Melite, when their paths crossed in the labyrinth. She listened carefully once, then had Idas repeat himself, so that she was confident that she understood his logic. Once he had given his explanation a second time, Melite responded as follows, "When you ask such questions of me, I initially suspected that it was a kind of test administered to determine into which of your two categories of problem-solver I fall. Upon further reflection, I wonder if it isn't actually a ploy on your part to trick me into revealing a reason, which you could not discover on your own, for you to pose the riddle in the first place."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-9 (November 13, 1998, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 26, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

So long had the term of her confinement within the labyrinth extended that Hesione had lost track of the days. She knew not whether it was the day of the sun or the day of the moon or any other, for there was neither sun nor moon in the subterranean maze. Worse yet, Hesione had begun to lose track of the seasons. She suspected that winter had passed, but she knew not if the hyacinth and crocus were still in bloom or if the full heat of summer had already arrived. The long stone hallways of the mine betrayed none of the secrets of the nurturing earth far above it.

Rounding a corner in the labyrinth, Hesione spotted the figure of a woman receding in the darkness down the passage. "Elder sister," she called to Periboea, who paused and retraced her steps until the two stood face to face.

Hesione asked, "Is today the day of Aphrodite or of Ares? Do you know?"

Periboea replied stolidly, "In the labyrinth, every day is the day of the minotaur."

"And are we yet closer to the vernal equinox or have we drawn nearer to the solstice?"

"Winter, spring, summer and autumn do not visit these depths. Here the seasons turn from gloom to shadow to darkness to despair before repeating."

The two women shared a brief embrace as they parted. Alone but strangely relieved, Hesione no longer worried about her original conundrum. Clearly, there were worse alternatives than not knowing what day it was.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 10-12 (November 13, 1998, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 27, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Wandering down a winding tunnel, Antimachus came upon a small, natural formation, which took the form of a disordered pile of partially merged metallic cubes. The dark silvery faces of cube betrayed the mineral as galena, or lead sulfide, one of the main commodities when the labyrinth had functioned as a mine. From deposits such as the one before him, lead could be smelted, and likely a percentage or two of silver. Although he had already exhausted the extent of his metallurgical lore, Antimachus imagined a great furnace underground in which the extraction was performed. Surely, the fire and the heat would draw the attention of the minotaur.

"I might sneak up behind it," he confided to Hippophorbas, "and push the beast into the crucible." This remark elicited from Hippophorbas a grunt, which poorly concealed his skepticism. "You might get dragged in as well."

"Indeed," Antimachus agreed, seemingly undisturbed. "The minotaur and I would be reduced instantly to ashes in the pool of molten metal." He considered the possibility further. "But the charred residue of the minotaur would flow with the bulk into the lead reservoir. There its taint would mark coins bearing its evil visage." Antimachus continued in a lighter tone, "As for whatever remained of me, I would join the silver. I would sound in the tinkle of a bracelet around the wrist of a maiden, as she lifted her arms and danced with abandon."

This was not the destination to which Hippophorbas had anticipated the train of thought would lead. He was nevertheless pleased by the notion that each of us puts the best face on our impending doom.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 13-16 (November 13, 1998, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

April 28, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

Melite thought she heard someone moaning in the tunnels of the labyrinth. Although she could not identify from which of her companions it might emanate, the sound was clearly not of the minotaur, so she headed toward it. When she arrived at the first intersection, she listened carefully, choosing her path by ear. Because of the twisting nature of the tunnels, the way forward was not always obvious. In the end, she did not locate the source of the groans. Melite did not even know if the cries had been in response to pain or anguish. In either case, the individual must have stopped for one reason or another. Perhaps, there had been no physical injury, only an uncontrollable surge of emotion, reduced to exhaustion through the shudder of sobs. Less likely but more palatable, another individual had found and comforted the one in need. Alternatively, Melite had simply wandered in the wrong direction and found herself no longer within range of the echoes of the cries. In the confusion induced by the maze, any of these things could be true, or none of them. The minotaur loomed ever in the back of her mind.

Later, Melite encountered Melanippe in an industrious mode, intent on the refinement of her map. "Did you hear someone crying?" she asked.

Melanippe studied her map as if the answer to Melite's question could be found therein. Each crooked line on her parchment seemed capable of harboring sorrow. Capitulation at any point appeared equally likely.

At that moment a piteous moan re-emerged, seemingly closer. Without waiting for an answer, Melite rushed off down the dark tunnel. Melanippe was left to study the map in consternation; she intended it to provide more measured guidance than simply responding in the heat of the moment.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (March 29, 1998, Fukuoka, Japan, digital files)

April 29, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Periboea, the brave, sought a means to destroy the minotaur. She had no desire to corral it for further interrogation, for she believed that there was nothing to be learned from a life devoted to brutish violence, governed by no laws other than animal instincts. "I will not be satisfied," Periboea declared to Idas, "until I stand above its broken corpse and hear no breath expelled from its lungs and see all life drained from its wicked limbs."

Idas, the curious, had a different opinion. He dared say to Periboea, "I should like to ask it a question, before you deliver the coup de grâce."

The warrior-maiden grimaced at one whom she considered to be in the sway of sentimental foolishness. All the same she asked of Idas, "What would you have the minotaur confess?"

"It's not exactly a confession," Idas admitted. "It's more like a suggestion, I suppose." Seeing Periboea grow impatient, he quickly added, "I would ask the minotaur to provide some advice, perhaps identify a worthy adversary with which it can be replaced, once it is vanquished."

If you, gentle reader, supposed that Periboea was taken aback by Idas' words, you would be mistaken. She betrayed no sign of surprise at the mention of a substitute nemesis, for her thoughts had wandered down much the same path. She too wondered how she would occupy her idle hours in the long days following that climactic moment when she put the beast to the sword.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-12 (March 29, 1998, Fukuoka, Japan, digital files)

April 30, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Hippophorbas had heard others say, "Everything happens for a reason." Even as his name was drawn in the lottery to be sacrificed to the minotaur, officials had tried to convince him of the grand purpose of his destiny, for by his role in the tribute to King Minos did he not keep the Cretan armies at bay?

Once he was ensconced in the darkness of the labyrinth, Hippophorbas attempted to continue to justify his existence based on rational arguments. Still, at times he doubted that everything happened for a reason. He met Hesione by chance, while each wandered in dim channels of the maze, and asked of her, "Do you think that there is some distant, unknown purpose in our unplanned meeting?"

"Elder brother," said Hesione, "you have misunderstood the saying. When people declare, 'Everything happens for a reason,' they refer to cause and effect. If I push you, you fall down. The reason that you fell down is because I pushed you, not because the gods intended to use me as an instrument to teach you a lesson in humility."

Hippophorbas was pretty sure that it was Hesione who misinterpreted the phrase, but he did not correct her, for he was fond of her. If she could find in the physical laws of action and reaction a comfort that he could not discover in metaphysical justifications, who was he to take it from her?

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (October 25, 1997, 20,000 Volts, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

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