The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

December 1, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Gibbous

In confining Hesione to the labyrinth, the most severe punishment imaginable had been imposed upon her, for she had yearned as a child to remain in Athens, the city of her family, where dwelt her parents, grandparents and numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. Her ambition had been to assume, in time, her assigned place in this hierarchy, providing a role of broad stability and love. Instead, the lottery had torn her from all family. She had done the best that she could, with her fellow outcasts.

Her maternal grandfather once traded with Ionian islanders. He had related a visit to Zakynthos, in the late summer, where he had observed, by chance, the hatching of sea turtles. Many thousands, each scarcely larger than a fig, erupted from the sand and scrambled across the beach to the safety of the water. Birds of all kinds, from sea eagles to crows, swooped down and carried away one turtle after another. When young Hesione had protested, her grandfather had insisted that this was the way of turtles. In numbers, some were bound to survive; the fate of an individual was unimportant. Unable to distinguish between turtles and people, Hesione found it a harsh but indisputable lesson that the fate of one human being was also secondary to the common good. Now, as tribute to the minotaur, she was a living example of that lesson!

Antimachus found her quietly weeping in a dark tunnel. "Why do you cry, Hesione?" he asked gently. She could not bring herself to admit a complaint, which Antimachus, also condemned by the lottery, refused to voice. They were as two turtles in the talons of eagles, who could but hope that their sacrifice was not in vain.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Astral Travelling Unity - unreleased live recording, track 1 (June 5, 2005, Velvet Sun, Ogikubo, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 2, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Melite; Moon: Gibbous

Antimachus had not protested when they had loaded him and the others onboard the trireme, bound to carry them from Athens to their doom on Crete. At first, he had maintained a show of stoicism for the sake of his family. Later, he had kept up the facade to reassure himself. Besides, he thought, this was the adventure of his life. He had never visited Crete. His experience with sailing on the open sea was limited. What good was it to cower before the events of one's own fate?

"Oh, I am bored," Antimachus said to the darkness, which, tired of being subjected to this dismal, repetitive lament, had chosen not to listen. "Witheringly bored."

Antimachus proceeded aimlessly along the serpentine coils of the labyrinth until he ran into Melite. "Do you remember the ship that carried us here?" the youth asked of the maiden.

Melite had thought little of that day. They had been kept in the hold, under guard, separated by sex, as their virginity was a prerequisite for their suitability as sacrifice. She remembered the groan of the wood as the ship had absorbed the buffets of waves, and the sorrow in the eyes of a guard, to whom had fallen the task of securing the treasure of seven docile maidens, eminently marriageable by all appearances, until delivery to the voracious maw of the minotaur.

That they might escape within the mine the attention of the beast for months on end had never entered their wildest dreams. In a tender mood, Melite supposed that the minotaur had had its chance at her. Why not allow Antimachus to render her unworthy of the lord of the labyrinth? Alas, when she made a tentative overture, she was rebuffed, for Antimachus had formed from his ennui a protective cocoon, which repelled all manner of vulnerability.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Astral Travelling Unity - unreleased live recording, track 2 (June 5, 2005, Velvet Sun, Ogikubo, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 3, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Gibbous

The labyrinth presented to Idas a series of chambers, some natural and some excavated, connected by crooked shafts, which were organized according only to the intuition of miners who had followed signs in the earth now gone. Over the ages, each cavern accumulated its share of darkness, all equally impenetrable. Those near to the surface remained cool and damp. In the deepest caves, the temperature rose until it was sufficiently unpleasant as to have deterred the miners of old from delving further. In this environment, Idas was tasked with finding his way. To be sure, there was much cause for indifference, since, from his perspective, the destination at the end of a particular tunnel was unknown in all respects save that it varied in nature little from the terminus of any other.

It was Idas' good fortune to be found by Hesione. Approaching him from behind, she consoled him, saying, "I agree with you that all decisions are ill-informed and arbitrary." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "But in this freedom, we may also choose those with whom he wish to pass the time. Yes, it is arbitrary; these choices may have long-term consequences impossible to divine. Still, there is the potential for someone, born with a stubborn nature, to decide to stick with the one of their choosing, come what may. Over time, people have come to honor this headstrong inflexibility, decorating it with such labels as steadfastness, dedication and fidelity. As the alternative is less palatable, I see no reason to deviate from convention in this regard."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Kazutoki Umezu - unreleased live recording, track 1 (June 23, 2005, Dolphy, Sakuragicho, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 4, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Gibbous

Devoid of the interruptions associated with dwelling in a city, life in the labyrinth allowed Andromache to participate in mental exercises that others, subject to the bustle of daily schedules and unexpected visitors, could not. She recognized this luxury as a side effect of the isolation of the maze. She balanced the attraction of the stillness, which the labyrinth induced in her, with the unyielding sense of disorientation. She judged the two effects inseparable.

As if in response to this rumination, Hesione appeared at her side. She had stepped from the mouth of a tunnel, of which Andromache had been unaware, hidden as it was in shadows. She greeted Andromache in her familiar way, "So good to see you, little sister."

"Have you learned anything from the labyrinth?" Andromache asked in a tone, which supposed that Hesione should have been expecting just such a question.

The only lesson that Hesione judged worth learning was remaining devoted to those whom she loved. This she had known before her delivery into the mine. Her time in the subterranean maze had done nothing to diminish her trust in this goal. Still, she was reluctant to admit that she had learned nothing. Much as was the case with Andromache, the extended periods of solitude had allowed Hesione to engage in prolonged reflection. In doing so, perhaps she had developed a deeper appreciation of her commitment to her companions in the maze. Her answer, however, was more enigmatic. "We learn only what lessons the labyrinth leads us to find."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Kazutoki Umezu - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3 (June 23, 2005, Dolphy, Sakuragicho, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 5, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Gibbous

Although it would aggrieve Menestheus sorely, it falls to us to promulgate his moments of weakness as well as strength. Wandering in the gloom of the labyrinth, he heard another approach. By the sound of their footfalls, his ears discerned that the steps were due to neither minotaur nor maiden. He next heard a voice asking itself idle questions--Idas! To his discredit, Menestheus hurriedly turned the other way and hoped to lose himself in the surrounding darkness, thus avoiding an encounter with one who would ply him with endless and tiresome questions. Alas, the labyrinth betrayed him. The irregular geometry of the mine cast echoes with the skill of a ventriloquist into all corners until Menestheus abruptly stood face to face with Idas.

Idas did not disappoint. Ignoring Menestheus' expression of embarrassed dismay, he asked, "How is it, do you suppose, that the minotaur is immune to the malignant changes that the maze effects in the rest of us?"

"To be sure," replied Menestheus, "the minotaur is not immune. How do you think it cultivated its habits for savagery and terror?"

"Oh dear!" cried Idas in distress. "I was hoping to find in its example some way to protect myself."

Menestheus privately thought that pursuing the minotaur as a role model was an idea second to none in its idiocy. Still, he found himself wanting to emulate Idas for the imperturbable equanimity with which he greeted everyone whom he encountered in the labyrinth. Menestheus remained silent because he could not deny the obvious parallels in their two cases.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Keisuke Ohta - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (June 30, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 6, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Gibbous

After he had lost the crystal-studded cavern, which had served as his temple, Porphyrion took on the role of the itinerant priest, wandering the labyrinth in search of opportunities to simultaneously better himself while aiding those with whom he came in contact. "For that," he said apologetically to Melanippe, "I have no need a map."

Melanippe, the cartographer, existed under no delusion that her map was a panacea, curing all ills. Still, she had devoted her life to its creation and she did not abandon its potential lightly. "Without a map, you might wander about in circles, arriving back at a place where you had already distributed what comfort you could."

An expression flit across Porphyrion's face too quickly for Melanippe to confirm whether it was a pensive frown or wan smile. "Sorrow," the priest said, "is not like lightning. It often strikes the same place twice." He offered a shrug by way of asking her pardon, then added, "Or thrice or countless times more."

A suspicion occurred to Melanippe that Porphyrion relished the suffering of others because it provided him an opportunity to exercise compassion. She chastised herself for this unkind thought. To make up for it, she confessed, "Porphyrion, you are right. My map is useless to you. May you wander in circles all the days of your life and may you never exhaust your desire to offer succor to those in the thrall of an endless repetition of miseries."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Keisuke Ohta - unreleased live recording, tracks 3-5 (June 30, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 7, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Gibbous

In her utter victory, Europe despaired for there was no purpose left to her being. Upon their initial imprisonment within the labyrinth, it was she who had told the others that cowering was pure foolishness, for the minotaur did not exist. Now, what seemed eons later, they all yet wandered the maze. So far as she knew not a one of them had succumbed to the predations of the beast. Nor did any one of her companions in the mine dare profess to her that the minotaur was anything more than a myth, told to instill fear in the young and gullible. Since there was nothing left to do, she lay down supine on the cold stone floor with her arms and legs splayed out in the shape of an X.

Hippophorbas discovered Europe in this curious pose. He circled her once, clearing his throat, so that she might be aware of his presence and compose herself. She did not respond, though her open eyes followed him as he circled a second time. Having always admired her stubbornness, Hippophorbas attempted to extract meaning from her ambiguous position on the ground. His circumlocutions did not remotely approach the truth. He thought Europe a picture of loveliness bound to the earth by naught but gravity. He imagined himself an eagle who might peck at the smooth skin of her exposed midriff, until he reached her liver. "May I indulge myself?" he asked, proposing to lavish grateful affection for her service, though the same attentions had been deemed a punishment for Prometheus.

Europe's eyes grew wide as she listened to Hippophorbas describe the act by which her clear-minded determination should be rewarded. Although many people admit the regular appearance of events that defy any logical causation, it is quite another thing to experience it firsthand! By the sheer madness of the suggestion, Europe was induced to accept some version of his proposition.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masataka Fujikake - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (July 2, 2005, Stormy Monday, Kannai, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 8, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Gibbous

There is value in challenging long-held customs both because unjustifiable prejudices may become codified in society and because it demonstrates that the individual possesses the ability to think for oneself. Of course, many traditions, perhaps the majority, are well-founded in experience. After an exploration of alternatives, refusing to acknowledge the merit of the original practice based simply on a principle of rejecting the status quo is the trademark of a puerile attitude.

We offer this disclaimer as a way to explain Demoleon's rejection of conventional morality. Perhaps his investigations into dissipation and debauchery were originally driven by a considered dismissal of the narrow-minded doctrines of his parents' generation, at least before he descended into a depravity that provided its own justification. In any case, for those confined within the labyrinth, especially the women, he had earned a reputation to be avoided, second only to the minotaur.

Periboea, the warrior-maiden, was stout of heart. She feared neither man nor beast. Coming upon Demoleon in the shadows of a damp cave, she met his lecherous gaze with her own steely glare.

"Why so hostile, Periboea?" he asked without feigning offense.

"I can feel your eyes upon me as surely as groping hands."

"Is it is a sin to admire your well-muscled form?"

"There is more to admire in me than my form."

"Most assuredly," Demoleon agreed with a smile. "But I see from your stance that all I will get from you I must steal with my eyes. Does it not please you to be regarded as desirable beyond others?"

While another may have been susceptible to an appeal to her vanity, Periboea, for her part, had shed concerns for convention when she took on the role of huntress. As such, there was ample precedent in her own life to spurn Demoleon's flattery without undue effort.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masataka Fujikake - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-12 (July 2, 2005, Stormy Monday, Kannai, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 9, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Melite; Moon: Gibbous

The water in the subterranean lake was uncomfortably cold. Never mind that Eurymedusa had claimed it as her sanctuary as soon as she had set eyes upon it, not long after her entrance into the labyrinth. Through prolonged exposure, her body had learned to tolerate the chill but such discipline could not alter the physical fact of the water's temperature.

A visitor, known for her warmth, dipped a toe in the lake from the safety of the stone bank and jumped back with an exclamation. Melite asked innocently, we must suppose, "How do you stand the cold?"

Neither could Eurymedusa deny that her refuge was uncomfortably cold nor was she willing to disparage her home, which she had freely chosen and to which she was now inextricably linked. She remained silent.

Melite immediately recognized the quandary into which her question had placed the swimmer. "Oh, to each her own," she said by way of redirecting their conversation.

Eurymedusa could not so easily dismiss the uneasiness, which the query had triggered. Perhaps, she had chosen poorly but, in her defense, she had been forced to seek shelter from the minotaur and there had been no other markedly superior alternative available to her. Never had she felt "doing the best that she could" to be so unsatisfactory as she did at that moment. Overcome by a surge of despair, she thought to dive to the black depths of the lake and there remain until all breath had left her body. That Eurymedusa continued was due in part to the fact that this extreme and irreversible course of action was always present in the lake. If she procrastinated, she ran no risk of losing a future opportunity.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Seiichi Yamamoto - unreleased live recording, track 1 (July 16, 2005, Bears, Namba, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

December 10, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Gibbous

It should come as no surprise that Amphidocus disapproved of the ways that many people spent their lives given that he experienced a profound dissatisfaction with the manner in which his own life transpired. "What an incredible waste of time!" he shouted in the empty corridors of the labyrinth, where the echoes taunted him. Who among us can argue with him, for he could not demonstrate one iota of progress in his lengthy wandering through the maze?

No less was Antimachus subject to the disorientation of the labyrinth. Yet his perambulations took the form of a distracted, meandering stroll as opposed to the neurotic pacing of Amphidocus. That two individuals should approach the same activity with vastly disparate attitudes is nothing less than the ordinary manifestation of the value of the intrinsic distribution of perspectives among human beings.

The riddle, of course, is how best to extract the most benefit to the most people from this assemblage of incongruous sensibilities. Amphidocus and Antimachus met by chance and shook hands in greeting. One sensed the irritability of the other and acted accordingly, keeping the conversation to innocuous topics. Is this the best answer to the riddle--relying on individual goodwill to utilize what talents are available to us in order to improvise in the moment? Oh, it seems simultaneously miraculous and precarious, optimistic and imprudent, majestic and doomed! Alas, confined within the same web, we lack the perspective to offer a broader solution.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Seiichi Yamamoto - unreleased live recording, track 2 (July 16, 2005, Bears, Namba, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

December 11, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Gibbous

If one scatters a handful of wheat on a table, the grains will invariably come to rest. Each individual seed occupies a particular spot, the coordinates of which could be recorded, were there interest in such minutiae. One can argue correctly that this distribution of grain is dictated by physical laws--gravity, momentum, friction. At the same time, it is also true that each position is arbitrary. Gathering the grains and scattering them again leads to a different distribution, similar only in general characteristics. So too can the same be said of men and women. Scattered in the labyrinth, we arrive at unique positions. There is no intentionality behind each location save that ascribed to gravity. There is no more meaning to each circumstance than that which we choose to attribute.

Eurymedusa listened as she floated in the black waters of the subterranean lake, not far from the stone bank, where Hippophorbas dramatically expounded upon his philosophical insights. When he had paused, presumably for appropriate affirmation and approbation, Eurymedusa obliged. "You have won me over, Hippophorbas, with your eloquence. I came to this lake by chance and the only meaning I possess is that which I invented for myself. Does hearing this admission make you feel better?"

Hippophorbas frowned. He wanted to be right. He wanted everyone to know that, through careful study, he had come to the conclusion that the world was a horrible, meaningless place. At the same time, Eurymedusa's response forced him to realize that it was an unworthy goal to convert those, who were otherwise content, to his miserable cause. Thereafter, the frequency with which he spoke on the grand subjects that govern our fates was greatly reduced.

written while listening to:  Sanhedrin - unreleased live recording, track 1 (August 5, 2005, Grapefruit Moon, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 12, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Gibbous

Just as those who are wicked take satisfaction in luring one who is pure into unsavory behavior, thus sullying an example by which they could otherwise be judged, so too do cowards seek to undermine the courage of the brave. The valor of Periboea was a common thing, barely worthy of remark. She was animated not by a supernatural fearlessness but rather by an unwillingness to relinquish what resolve she had accumulated over the course of her life. Knowing its fragility, she worried that a moment of weakness could cause her to lose permanently all for which she had worked. So we reiterate, lest there be any misunderstanding, the peerless mettle of Periboea was hardened more by fear than by courage.

This distinction was lost on Amphidocus, who had never suspected that courage and cowardice were anything more than two sides of the same coin, to be flipped for guidance on a daily basis, if not more frequently. Still, Amphidocus acknowledged that, given two essentially equivalent perspectives, it was unprofitable to dwell exclusively on the less appealing one. Clearly, he did not espouse the maxim, "Never admit to a virtue when a vice will suffice." On the contrary, he urged Periboea to imperiously lord her gallantry over others of lesser daring.

Periboea grimaced good-naturedly at the suggestion. It is always possible to make things seem better by imagining worse possibilities.

written while listening to:  Sanhedrin - unreleased live recording, track 2 (August 5, 2005, Grapefruit Moon, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 13, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Gibbous

Life is always ending or beginning, it's hard to tell the difference. The fact that, from our perspective, time moves in only one direction is not sufficient to distinguish between the onset of a thing and its conclusion. To perceive in the universe an inherent cruelty comes naturally to some of us. Each individual ages; their capabilities diminish. They become increasingly powerless to control their own destiny, if they ever maintained any illusion of control. Should wicked folk fail to exploit their vulnerability, natural forces will. Suffering lurks just around the next corner. Dwelling in the labyrinth, an exemplar of an architecture without beginning or end, these truths were as pervasive as the darkness and damp air. Melite fought against succumbing to despair. "I forgive you," she said to the stone walls, but she remained uncertain whether the absolution was reciprocated.

The music of Andromache wound down the corridor and drew Melite to her. Today, the flautist played a cheerful tune. "Tomorrow, it will be different, as likely as not," she explained to Melite, when questioned on the occasion for her carefree melody. "Anyway, every day is a continuation of the same song. It's not as if there is ever a clear coda."

"I forgive you too," said Melite to the musician, "for having dwelt so long in this mine that its message is all you know how to share."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, K.K. Null & Seijiro Murayama - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (August 16, 2005, Penguin House, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 14, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Gibbous

The corridors of the labyrinth were hewn from stone by pickaxe and shovel. In scale, they roughly corresponded to the size of a man, for whose passage they had been carved. The ground was often covered in gravel that had escaped excavation. In none of these passages was the way straight, for the miners had followed the nonlinear winding of veins of ore through the earth. Man-made tunnels encountered natural caverns at all odd angles, sometimes requiring a steep descent to enter the chamber. In an environment such as this, it should have been easy for a daydreamer like Antimachus to entertain himself. He could imagine all sorts of adventures and dramas playing out in this three-dimensional web. Consequently, it is hard to explain why we find him so gruesomely bored. Perhaps, the perpetual darkness diminished his creative capacities. Or, perhaps the isolation in the mine provided him scarce company with whom he could share his stories. Lastly, it may have been the inherent disorientation of the maze that prohibited natural processes from moving from point a to point b.

"Or all of those things put together," suggested Menestheus when the two youths encountered each other in a small cave. "It doesn't really matter. I am here now. Allow me to serve as sufficient cause to ignite again your imaginative powers."

Antimachus found no objection to this suggestion. Based on a peculiar discoloration in the rock of the cave wall before them, he created a tale of travelers who had passed this way years earlier and had left this cryptic symbol for subsequent explorers to decipher. Whether it was a warning or a link in a series of markers to hidden treasure remained unclear.

"Possibly both," Menestheus chimed in. Such ambiguity was not uncommon in the labyrinth.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Natsuki Kido - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (August 30, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 15, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Gibbous

It finally occurred to Hesione that there was no exit from the labyrinth. She had always assumed that, since there was a way in--at least the one entrance through which she had been ushered--there had to be a way out. Yes, the soldiers had rolled a boulder in front of the cave mouth moments after Hesione and the others had been delivered inside, sealing them in darkness. So, that particular avenue may have required strength beyond her means to access but the entrance itself existed. Her more recent epiphany, however, supposed that the labyrinth no longer bore a connection of any kind to the exterior world. The myriad of corridors formed a twisting and chaotic pattern in which all intersections were internal. Her future self was trapped within these walls as undeniably as she of her past.

Hesione then considered fasting unto death. She viewed the prospect as a betrayal of the others, whom she loved, also bound within the labyrinth. Still, the certainty of her remaining sentence proved a heavy burden, against which she struggled daily.

She encountered Porphyrion, the itinerant priest, who encouraged her to pursue fasting. It was a meditative practice in which he periodically engaged himself to purify both body and mind. Of her ostensible goal, he said nothing. He had confidence that, as her body ceased to supply nutrients to her brain, its machinations would alter. Porphyrion regarded this state as one of joyful clarity. If she persevered in reaching this point, Hesione would see the inescapability of the labyrinth as a fact of life, one that she would be astounded to have failed to recognize from the first moment of her introduction to it. It did not fall to Porphyrion to share this revelation. Hesione would have to discover it for herself and, having done so, would possess all the necessary information to proceed accordingly, one way or the other.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Natsuki Kido - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-5 (August 30, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 16, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Europe; Moon: Gibbous

When Idas conceded that he would do the best he could, he was expressing both perseverance and defeat. The making of such a declaration required the recognition of his limits and perhaps the recent experience of failure in attempting to exceed them. At the same time, his resolution to do the best he could represented a conscious effort against abandoning hope entirely. Of course, perseverance and defeat are antonyms. That a single action should so fully encapsulate both attitudes may seem contradictory. We describe Idas in this way as one piece of evidence to be used in an argument based on inductive reasoning that, in fact, contrary to expectations, all actions encompass both their ostensible intention and its diametric opposite.

Europe came upon Idas in the mine and reassured him, saying, "Cheer up, Idas, what is there to worry about? The minotaur does not exist!" By doing so, she actually conveyed her lived experience that no factor had more dictated the direction of her life than the haunting of the minotaur.

When Idas responded with an indifferent shrug, what he intended to communicate was his unreserved sympathy for Europe's failure to manifest herself in a manner remotely consistent with her personal aspirations.

And so on.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Tori Kudo, Otomo Yoshihide & Tamio Shiraishi - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (September 1, 2005, Shinjuku Jam, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 17, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Gibbous

People who have the luxury of recourse to extended periods of solitude are better able to respond to mistreatment because they have time to reflect not only on potential alternatives but also on the motivations of their oppressor. Even if their ruminations amount to unsubstantiated speculation, still they are able to recognize that cruelty begets cruelty and contempt gives rise to more contempt. Responses vary based on individual temperament. Women of action may rally like-minded folk to a righteous cause. Widows may opt to employ more subtle words, engaging the efforts of those who hold the most influence over the source of their persecution. While some neglected wives remain silent. Chastise none of them too severely. If there is a lesson to the labyrinth, it is that there are many equivalent paths, most of which lead nowhere. Melanippe examined Demoleon's face, searching for some hint of understanding. Unable to satisfy herself, she added as a redundant clarification, "I have been mistreated by the labyrinth."

"Oh," said Demoleon, as if her meaning had only just dawned on him. "Yes," he nodded, "so it is with this maze. It is too much to ask for the stone walls and cloying darkness to function any other way." Demoleon was also subject to long periods of isolation. He offered in parting the following sentiment. "There remains, my dear Melanippe, the option of considering the labyrinth as a theatrical stage. Granted it is an artificial setting, but one in which you can openly embrace a role of expressing your highest ideals, no matter how out of place they might appear in the real world."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Tori Kudo, Otomo Yoshihide & Tamio Shiraishi - unreleased live recording, tracks 3-4 (September 1, 2005, Shinjuku Jam, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 18, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Europe; Moon: Gibbous

In the isolation of the maze, it was easy for Menestheus to succumb to despondency. The darkness was perpetual, the disorientation unrelenting. To his dismay, Menestheus gradually realized that his mind was transforming his unhappiness with his circumstances into resentment toward those who had not helped him. Why did no one care? Menestheus knew that if he encountered another wanderer in the labyrinth and pressed them on this point, they could but answer, "Of course I care, but what can I do? I am no more able to push back the darkness than you." Even this knowledge could not quell Menestheus' anger. After all, actions speak louder than words and the mere mouthing of concern was ultimately empty.

"I see what you mean," Europe replied, when she found Menestheus stewing in a dank cave. "Actions do speak louder than words, but in this mine no matter how furiously we beat our fists against the stone walls, we will not in a million years tunnel a straight path to the surface. Therefore, I say the best course of action is to not act at all."

Menestheus frowned. What use had he for someone who made the bad seem tolerable by mentioning worse? Eventually, however, a smile came to his face. Every reaction crafted in the mind is at best partially responsive to reality. With this latitude, he supposed that he ought to be able to compose a better approach to navigating the unending antagonism of the labyrinth.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Kazuhisa Uchihashi, Yuji Katsui, Tatsuya Yoshida, Mitsuru Nasuno, Kengo Sakamoto & Mike Patton - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-11 (September 5, 2005, Doors, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 19, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Gibbous

Of the various failure mechanisms to which human beings resort in the admission of defeat by the unnavigable labyrinth, some are deemed preferable to others. The choice of an individual apocalypse is especially admired not only because the one in question demonstrates a proper rectitude in assuming responsibility for their own failings but also because by their actions they provide a model for other members of the community, who have reached the end of their wits.

Other alternatives are less worthy of approbation. Take Porphyrion, for instance, who insisted upon wandering through the labyrinth with a broken spirit. At heart he succumbed to a morose disposition. He yet aspired to shine as a noble example and thus attempted to disguise his brooding with a cheerful facade. Even brief conversations with Porphyrion were sufficient to reveal the superficiality of his optimism.

Worse yet, Demoleon stalked the corridors of the labyrinth, desperate to find a partner or, failing that, a victim to join him in a destructive orgy of mutual self-denigration. Unfortunately for Demoleon, he next encountered Porphyrion, who offered not the complicity he sought but a banal variety of moralizing, which threatened to induce nausea. While it remains possible that each could have provided some measure of aid to the other, the two men parted ways shortly after meeting. In the midst of failing, it is likely that the mental resources required to maintain a vigilance for redemptive opportunities are instead devoted to shorter term preoccupations.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Ellen Fullman - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (September 8, 2005, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo Japan, digital files)

December 20, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Gibbous

Europe, for whom the minotaur did not exist, found fault with those who went to extremes to avoid the beast, for by their actions they denied a vital truth. None appeared to have adjusted her way of living to so great a degree as Eurymedusa, who had taken to dwelling exclusively in a subterranean lake, where she imagined her ability to evade the minotaur was best. Standing on the stone bank, Europe declared to the water-maiden, "There is no need for this." She gestured at the expanse of black water stretching out into the shadowed horizon of the cavern. "The minotaur does not exist."

"Also," Eurymedusa responded coolly, as she floated with only her head above water, "the labyrinth does not exist."

Europe did not appreciate this remark, for it placed her conviction in the fantasy of the minotaur on the same level as doubt of the labyrinth, a convoluted construction of stone, in which they all were undeniably trapped. In the end, she failed to garner the interest to argue with Eurymedusa. Whether the labyrinth existed or not and whether they agreed upon this point seemed to hold little consequence.

Europe disrobed and waded into the lake. The chill of the water immediately raised goosebumps on her flesh. Undeterred she proceeded until, like Eurymedusa, all but her head was submerged. Even then she shivered. "Why do you insist upon enduring this cold?"

Propelled backward by unseen movements of her legs, Eurymedusa effortlessly circled Europe. "Your question provides its own answer," she replied as she swam, "the cold is indisputably real, an anchor for the body and the mind within it, when all else is contaminated by suspicions of illusion."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Astral Travelling Unity - unreleased live recording, track 1 (October 9, 2005, Velvet Sun, Ogikubo, Tokyo Japan, digital files)

December 21, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Gibbous

The tunnels of the labyrinth were tortuous. If Demoleon peered down a path, he would not have been able to see far; no passageway extended in a straight line for more than a few strides. All paths veered to the right or left and sloped up or down, before abruptly jutting away at a sharp, unexpected angle. Of course, the geometry of the labyrinth was merely a speculative matter since all of it was cloaked in darkness. The eyes of neither Demoleon nor any other traveler could penetrate the utter gloom.

There are, among us, those who exploit darkness and confusion to hide their misdeeds. Perhaps, we have, once upon a time, taken advantage of these traits to allow one of our own failures to go unobserved. Demoleon simultaneously hated and reveled in the darkness, for it caused him no less trouble than anyone else, but he often sought to manage the communal obfuscation to his individual benefit.

Known for his tolerance, Amphidocus appreciated the idiosyncrasies of each person whom he encountered in the maze. He explicitly enjoyed perturbations from the norm that brought color into the grim mine. Only after several unpleasant episodes, in which wanderers took advantage of his good nature, did Amphidocus concede that some individuals, who demonstrated certain disagreeable idiosyncrasies, were to be avoided. Fortunately the same darkness and ambiguity that allows wrongdoing to remain hidden can also be invoked to provide a veil behind which the innocent, relatively speaking, may slip by unnoticed.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Astral Travelling Unity - unreleased live recording, track 2 (October 9, 2005, Velvet Sun, Ogikubo, Tokyo Japan, digital files)

December 22, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Gibbous

Eurymedusa floated languidly in the cold, black water. She stared up at the dark expanse of stone, which formed the cavernous ceiling of the underground lake, until she heard a faint whisper of flute emanating from the mouth of one of the tunnels opening into her chamber. She waited patiently for Andromache to arrive.

The maiden did not cease playing when she stepped from the confines of the passage onto the broad stone bank beside the lake. On the contrary, she straightened her back and, exhibiting a rare fervor, allowed the music to spread across the surface of the still water, filling each distant nook, no matter how dark, with her song.

Eurymedusa listened to the message, which Andromache wove into her song. She sensed an eagerness for an impending event. When the music eventually stopped, she asked the flautist, "Are you going somewhere?"

Andromache nodded, pleased that she was in the presence of an attentive listener. However, when Eurymedusa further asked the nature of her destination, she declined to reply. She teased the swimmer, explaining that this information also had been transmitted in her music.

Eurymedusa then pretended to know the answer. She supposed that the options available to Andromache were few. Her most probable destination was another nondescript section of the maze, or many of them in succession. This continuation of the status quo seemed unworthy of celebration. Alternatively, Eurymedusa speculated that Andromache hinted at her own death. The cheerful melody seemed to belie thoughts of mortality, but it is true that many ultimately welcome oblivion. The most obvious solution, namely a fantastic escape from the labyrinth to the surface world, never occurred to Eurymedusa. She had dwelt so long in the lake that such a retreat was inconceivable. Even had the thought dawned on her, she would have rejected it, for she had forgotten those traits, which originally had bestowed the city and the surrounding mountains of her childhood with their appeal.

written while listening to:  Sanhedrin - unreleased live recording, track 1 (October 13, 2005, Grapefruit Moon, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 23, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Gibbous

As Amphidocus wandered through the darkness of the labyrinth, he came upon a small, circular chamber with the tip of a ladder emerging from a vertical shaft in the floor. Including the tunnel by which he had arrived, there were also four roughly horizontal passageways connected to the cave. Since he possessed no power to judge the outcome of any of the paths, this seemed to Amphidocus an unnecessary embarrassment of choices. In his blindness, he cursed all oracles and soothsayers who had discovered secret mechanisms by which they could trick spirits into revealing intimations of the future.

The profanities of Amphidocus crept out the various exits until one particularly colorful phrase summoned Menestheus from a lower level of the maze. Ascending the ladder, he came to stand beside Amphidocus, who continued to glare at the surfeit of alternatives. Menestheus required only a moment to absorb the entirety of the scene. "You needn't get so upset, Amphidocus," he said, "it isn't as if down one dark tunnel tarries a comely maiden, waiting to rest your head on her bosom, while a voracious lion impatiently paces at the end of another."

"Even were it so," Amphidocus declaimed bitterly, "I could choose no better."

"In the end, what difference is there between a destiny of tenderness and one of terror? Both will come to pass then be forgotten, when all parties involved have left only their bones as testament to their trials."

"This thing that you discount so lightly," Amphidocus protested, "is joy ephemeral. It is poor judgment to belittle it, for its memory is all that shall keep us warm in the eternal night that is to follow."

written while listening to:  Sanhedrin - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3 (October 13, 2005, Grapefruit Moon, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 24, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Gibbous

Although she had initially worried that the sound would draw the minotaur to her, Andromache eventually lost her fear of playing the flute in the stone corridors of the labyrinth. Without a doubt, the acoustics of the geological architecture amplified her music in peculiar ways. The irregular reverberations gave warmth to her melodies and made it seem as if she intentionally kept her rhythm just a little off tempo. Still, the minotaur had not come. It seemed that men would have to do.

Porphyrion, the itinerant priest, was ill-suited to the role of beast. He prayed far too much and the favors for which he beseeched the gods were not aimed at vengeance. Rather he requested succor and charity toward those who could construct no meaning from their suffering. He accepted that Andromache viewed him as a substitute for the monster. "I am happy to disappoint you," he said with a kind smile.

"I can only do likewise," replied the flautist, though she did not elaborate. At his request, she played a hymn. Porphyrion sang the lyrics, in which a maiden invoked Athena, goddess of wisdom, to turn a blind eye to her most unwise actions, so that she might live unhindered, as earthly women are wont, and yet be accepted, when a stooped crone, to serve as an agent of the goddess, dispensing what wisdom she had accumulated during her years astray.

This hymn did not especially appeal to Andromache, who supposed that women needed no divine approbation for their choices. Still, as monsters go, Porphyrion was relatively innocuous. He asked that she play the song again before he departed and Andromache found herself willing to oblige.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masataka Fujikake - unreleased live recording, track 1 (October 15, 2005, Stormy Monday, Kannai, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 25, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Gibbous

In our experience, a child's instinctual and paralyzing fear of the dark does not give way to well-reasoned arguments expounded in the light of day. Although Periboea was no longer a girl, what courage she had exhibited in her tender years had been kindled in the crucible of her fiery heart. She had fanned these flames as a sort of self-tempering, in order to incinerate all remnants of terror. In sharp contrast to gut-wrenching dread, the doubt by which she was now possessed sprang from uncertainty. The labyrinth had led her in circles along an interminable journey. She had lost not only her way but her sense of self, which had ever been her anchor.

"Fear not," said Antimachus in a sardonic tone, mocking all heroes of the past who had voiced such a command with sincerity. "I hold the secret to the banishment of your trepidation." He mimicked pulling a card from his sleeve, suggesting, we suppose, that his solution was as simple as distraction and subterfuge. "All fright," he declared, "is diminished by exhaustion. The world grinds on and on. Caught between the mortar and the pestle, we are not immune. Our sharp edges dull and all our surfaces become convex. Nothing binds to us. Tossed in the current of life, we tumble like a pebble in a river. The world passes by us, an indistinct, watery blur. In such a tumult, who can find within themselves cause for concern, much less terror?"

Periboea thought the antidote proffered by Antimachus worse than the poison it sought to negate. She nodded politely then headed off alone, along an unlit tunnel, which she judged might harbor the potential for both panic and renewal, albeit in unequal proportions.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masataka Fujikake - unreleased live recording, track 2 (October 15, 2005, Stormy Monday, Kannai, Yokohama, Japan, digital files)

December 26, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Gibbous

It seemed possible to Melite that the labyrinth had not always been as it was. The paths that wound in tangles now might once have formed an orderly array, through which travelers navigated with nary a wrong turn. At some point, by an ancient, unknown cataclysm, the maze had been thrown into disorder, resulting in a tortuous morass of circling corridors, blind alleys and dark, endless descents. Faced with this reality, Melite found it difficult not to attribute to the cosmos an intrinsic enmity toward the interests of man.

"Little sister," greeted Hesione, when the two maidens met by chance in a cavern, where the rock high overhead was streaked by a yellow vein of chalcopyrite, inaccessible and untouched by miners of old. "What makes you think that the labyrinth wasn't always the puzzle it is now?"

Melite knew well what had led her to this conclusion, for it was the deterioration of her own mind. She insisted that her thoughts had not always followed the chaotic spasms to which they now were in thrall. Once upon a time, her thinking had been subject to the clear discipline of logic. Just as her own mental processes had unraveled, so too, she observed, must it be for the labyrinth. After all, the maze was the most obvious cause of her malaise. She had been contaminated by its relentless disorientation during her incarceration.

Hesione pointed out, in case it was not already apparent to Melite, the inevitable conclusion of her train of thought. If the gods could be held to account for having wrought the havoc of the labyrinth, then did she not stand similarly guilty for having allowed her mind to succumb to a mayhem of deranged snarls and knots?

Indeed, dread catalyzes more dread. Both women were correct and neither especially pleased about it.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & K.K. Null - unreleased live recording, track 1 (November 11, 2005, Penguin House, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 27, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Gibbous

Rain must have recently fallen in the surface world, for water had seeped through cracks in the stone. Rivulets formed, descending by the contours of the rough-hewn walls, until they delivered what water they held in a puddle on the ground. Of their passing, these messengers from above left only a slight discoloration of natural salts, leached from the earth and deposited in transit. By the time Antimachus arrived, there was naught but the puddle left, which soaked his left sandal when he unwittingly stepped in it. He cursed out of all proportion to the slight, for the labyrinth had grated on his last nerve. Where once he had ransacked his imagination for secrets to make the most of this dark domain, he now sought only temporary distraction from the meaningless tunnels of the mine, leading through perpetual darkness from one ambiguous cave to another.

Alarmed by the echoing expletives of Antimachus, Idas rushed through the subterranean gloom, only to have a wet sandal revealed as the full extent of the injury. "Really?" he asked. "What if your cries had summoned the minotaur?" Neither youth bothered to answer the question.

Idas crouched beside the puddle and his vision idly fell to the discoloration of the odd-shaped salt growths on the cave wall. He did not know the term efflorescence, which described this mineral phenomenon, and, if he had, he would have derived little pleasure from it, for each of us must choose that which interests us and with which we admit to agreeably passing the time and, in so choosing, exclude much else.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & K.K. Null - unreleased live recording, track 2 (November 11, 2005, Penguin House, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 28, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Gibbous

"Elder sister, have you your map at hand?" Hesione spoke these words to Melanippe when she encountered her. From behind, she appeared as the silhouette of a diminutive figure standing alone in an ancient cavern, in which immense stone columns had formed over the ages.

The cartographer turned and, in answer to Hesione's question, displayed the parchment, held open before her.

"Is my path written there?" Hesione asked, as she slowly closed the distance between them. She attempted to convince herself that her query was made in earnest hope for a miracle and explicitly free of cynicism.

Melanippe met her with a steady gaze. "If you propose to transport yourself through stone walls, then your way is not here. If, on the other hand, you are confined to the same routes as other mortals, then I am afraid that my map is quite thorough. You will not find a path that I have not already plotted."

"Your words fill me with despair," Hesione confessed.

"Some well-worn paths lead to merit. There is no shame in adhering to virtue, no matter how unoriginal it may seem."

Hesione stopped a few feet from Melanippe. "You have misunderstood me, sister. Should I turn from my chosen path of offering solace, it would not be due to a craving for novelty."

Melanippe said nothing, inviting Hesione to fill the space with her thoughts.

Hesione left the space empty, for she found her predicament more muddled than ever. She proved unable to articulate the impact of the calamitous and unlucky collision of inhuman errors, which prompted her to contemplate abandoning the company of those whom she had loved.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Bill Laswell & Rashied Ali - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (December 15, 2005, The Stone, New York, United States, digital files)

December 29, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Gibbous

When Idas, the curious, came upon the minotaur slumbering in what best can be called its roost, placed on a high stone shelf and matted with straw, he crept as close as he dared. The beast stirred not at all; what modest skittering sounds Idas made as he clambered up the stone slope paled in comparison to the hoarse snorting of the sleeping bull. Peering over the lip of the roost, Idas felt each breath as a hot, fetid blast on his face. Because he rightly feared that the minotaur would tear him limb from limb or devour him yet whole, he chose not to wake it. Instead, he put those questions, which he had long harbored, to the beast while it slept. Methodically, Idas went down each item in his list. He was forced to intuit the answers from the timing and intonation of the ragged breathing. Had the beast been awake, Idas would have received no more direct reply to this queries. When his curiosity was exhausted, he crept away undetected.

Some time later, Idas encountered Hippophorbas, with whom he shared this experience. Upon hearing the tale, Hippophorbas exploded in a fury, berating Idas for having let slip the chance to save them all from the scourge of the labyrinth. "You could have slit its throat while it slept and rid us of this doom!" he shouted.

Idas had initially intended to share with Hippophorbas the very peculiar answers that he had received from the minotaur. However, the reaction of Hippophorbas proved so inhospitable that Idas kept these best parts of the story to himself.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Yoko Ueno - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (December 27, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 30, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Gibbous

It cannot be disputed that the map of Melanippe was a physical thing. She could hold it in her hands. The parchment could be rolled and unrolled. Upon its surface, an account of the labyrinth had been meticulously rendered.

It is equally irrefutable that a need existed for this map. The labyrinth took the form of an indecipherable maze. Those who wandered through its corridors did so without the ability to determine their destination, living haphazard lives dictated by happenstance. The map exactly satisfied their greatest want.

Finally, it cannot be denied that the precious map of Melanippe was ignored entirely, if not despised by all but its creator. That this should be the way of the world caused in Melanippe a deep hurt. It was all she could do to prevent this injury from corrupting her and filling her with contempt. Let the ignorant wander heedlessly into the abyss. With that thought, Melanippe feared that she could but follow them.

Periboea had no special answer to Melanippe's conundrum. Much of the world, especially the behavior of human beings, was beyond comprehension, unless one accepted that people willfully embraced their own destruction. Neither that the mindless process of evolution had, over millions of years, assembled an imperfect configuration of the brain nor that this organ was irreparably flawed should come as any surprise. "Burn the map," Periboea advised, "it serves as a lantern that illuminates inordinately our deformities."

Melanippe did not choose fire. Instead, because humans enjoy intractable puzzles, she tore the document into countless pieces. Wandering through the labyrinth, she scattered these shreds of wisdom, knowing full well they were virtually useless in isolation. This was the closest approach to suicide that her nature permitted.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Yoko Ueno - unreleased live recording, tracks 3-4 (December 27, 2005, In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

December 31, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Melite; Moon: Gibbous

Some patterns of living originate in periodic cycles of the Earth or the moon or other cosmic processes unbeknownst to us. Superimposed on these recurring themes are erratic events with no predictable frequency. Some matters, like breathing occur countless times each day, while others, like birth or death, occur only once to an individual. Some phenomena change the appearance of their pattern or lack thereof depending upon the perspective of the examiner. For example, even death, taken in aggregate, has a biological rhythm akin to breathing.

Men and women attempt to forecast the occurrence of events, trivial and significant, employing various pattern recognition skills. Of course, hubris is also often a motivation for such prognostications. Our undying belief in our role as the single-most important organisms in the universe prompts us to insist that the world should be warped to our advantage. Hippophorbas shared these thoughts with Melite as the two sat upon adjacent boulders in the gloom of the labyrinth.

She rose and moved over to his stone. She nudged him with her hip and he responded by scooting over so that there was space enough to accommodate her. Seated side by side, Melite spoke thus, "If we concede that the world is inherently cruel, the best remedy against contamination by its cruelty, is to forgive it again and again. Every day, forgive the same awful offenses, until it becomes second nature."

Hippophorbas expressed surprise at the direction of her words. "I said nothing of cruelty."

"Oh," she replied. She supposed that it had been implied. "If the world was any other way, what need would we have to worry about the future?"

written while listening to:  Sanhedrin - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (January 22, 2006, UFO Club, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)