The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

August 1, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Gibbous

In the darkness, Amphidocus proceeded down a wide tunnel of the labyrinth. Because of their position or angle of intersection, some of the side passages were visible to him. As he encountered each one, he made a choice either to explore it or to ignore it. At the same time, he passed at least as many, if not more, side passages, which, placed too deeply in shadow, escaped his notice. He contemplated these alternative paths in general, since he remained unaware of them individually. He could not decide if these unseen corridors represented unique, missed opportunities or sundry, equivalent ways of no special account.

When Amphidocus encountered Andromache, the flautist, he put to her the following question. "Is it acceptable for a person, rather than to define themselves by the choices that they have made, instead to become defined by the choices that they did not make, even if only out of ignorance?"

"That question," answered Andromache, with no regard for the disappointment she engendered, "is far too complicated to be answered in darkness such as this."

"In the labyrinth, there is only darkness," Amphidocus pointed out, "as far as the eye can see and farther still."

"So say you," Andromache countered. "Perhaps, there was a light at the end of one of the many tunnels you missed."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, K.K. Null & Merzbow - unreleased live recording, track 1 (June 20, 1999, 20,000 Volts, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 2, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Gibbous

In the dynamic evolution of both the animate and inanimate, distinct phenomena transpire on vastly different timescales. For the living, neurons in the brain fire two hundred times per second, while the heart beats only once or twice per second. In the same body, deterioration of all components, due to the natural aging process, occurs over the decades, which compose a lifetime. The same is true of the inanimate. When struck by the appropriate frequency of light, the excitation of an electron occurs in a millionth of a billionth of a second. The timescales of other processes, like the rounding of a stone in a river, depend on the local current and can extend anywhere from one hundred to one million years.

Given the tremendous disparity in the rates in which natural processes occur, it is no surprise that individuals are not able to keep track of them all. Rather, each us focuses upon disparate timescales best suited to our nature and current state. Andromache, for example, preferred slowly evolving music, weaving long notes that spanned many seconds into complex drones that stretched for hours. This manner of passing the time pleased her, given her relatively uneventful life within the labyrinth.

Menestheus, on the other hand, had a tendency to grow bored with the very gradual changes that Andromache elicited from her flute. He desired a faster tempo, a melody to which he might be able to clap his hands or tap his feet. "Play something more lively," he requested, when she paused momentarily to take a breath.

This difference of opinion is exactly the way it should be. Thoughtful navigation through the diversity of attitudes in a continuously changing landscape is one way to create wonder in the midst of the mundane.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, K.K. Null & Merzbow - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3, (June 20, 1999, 20,000 Volts, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 3, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Gibbous

Let there be no question that the world will end. The ending has already begun, though it is a drawn-out matter, consuming eons. Eternity is naught but a mathematical concept, an idealization which maps imperfectly upon the physical world. So thought Menestheus as he wandered aimlessly through the darkness of the labyrinth. He supposed that he might find some comfort if he were able to convince himself that the maze did not extend infinitely in all directions and that his period of incarceration within it was similarly finite. Having made the claim, he waited for the corresponding solace to arrive.

Instead, Porphyrion, the itinerant priest, appeared, shambling down the corridor, muttering incoherent prayers. With fluid gestures of his hands and a string of ritualistic phrases, Porphyrion greeted and blessed Menestheus in the span of a few moments.

"The world will still end," Menestheus protested.

"Of course, it will," Porphyrion agreed. "I offer prayers only, not miracles. More to the point," he said, speaking at a rapid clip, "our ephemerality is an essential component of our being. To tamper with it by extending it is..." He paused, searching for a phrase, and added, somewhat unsatisfied, "not in our best interests."

Some scholars suggest that there is a record being kept of all that has transpired in this universe. As each mote of light is captured within the mathematical singularity, which we quaintly refer to as a black hole, the information it carries is projected onto the event horizon, as a shadow upon a screen. Each of us is thus recollected in this history. To be sure, what consciousness is retained in this projection desires explicitly the impermanence that we who cast the shadow foolishly sought to elude.

written while listening to:  Aihiyo - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (July 30, 1999, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 4, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Europe; Moon: Gibbous

The presence of imperfection in the world can be construed by those who are passionately committed to optimism as a call to arms. What greater evidence is needed to motivate a life dedicated to amelioration than the irrefutable manifestations of suffering? Porphyrion supposed that only in the absence of all misery, could he justifiably cease his labor.

At the same time, his attitude did not inure him to sorrow. He could choose to act in a positive way, while still absorbing the emotional toll of his work. In his situation, he sought to aid the congregation of his churchless faith, who were lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of the mine. Although he could not help a single member escape, he presumed that he could aid them in adopting a framework, in which their time in the maze was tolerable. Porphyrion's sorrow stemmed from the difficulty in gauging his progress.

He came upon the maiden, Europe, seated atop a boulder at the edge of rockslide that dropped to form the floor of a sizeable cavern. He greeted her and climbed up to sit beside her. The view might have been notable had it not been for the impenetrable darkness. He said as much to her.

"This panorama does not exist, for it has been erased by our blindness," Europe replied. "Neither does the minotaur exist, nor your gods above, nor those below."

Porphyrion, though he was chaste in a most austere way, lay his hand over the hand of Europe, as she leaned back against the stone. "We exist--you and I--here and now. You have the power to make all my desires of the moment come true, for I want only to see your smile, to hear the warmth of your laughter and to know that, for an instant, I made, through you, the world a better place."

To this request, Europe acquiesced, for she could find no compelling argument to the contrary.

written while listening to:  Aihiyo - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-11 (July 30, 1999, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 5, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Gibbous

Because, in times past, religion was wielded to stabilize, brutally if necessary, civilizations and social structures, some thinkers suppose that the disappearance of belief in the divine will foreshadow total societal collapse. How will me recognize morality without priests to describe it to us? Europe, the disbeliever, found both fallacy and truth in this train of thought. Superficially, she scoffed at the notion that the individual was unable to conduct oneself according to moral principles without admonition from above. There were numerous examples, scattered through-out history, of philanthropic pagans, heretics and infidels, just as there were countless instances of the wanton cruelty performed in the name of one god or another. Still, as she wandered alone in the labyrinth, Europe felt close to despair. The temptation to give up was ever present. She sometimes wished for a minor god, associated with mines, perhaps, or underground grottos, to provide a modicum of external support.

When Europe shared her ambivalence on this subject with Demoleon, he scoffed at the notion. "Don't be ridiculous," he told her. "You remind me of the cowardly criminal, brought in shackles before the judge, who blames his crime on evil spirits, claiming, 'The devil made me do it.' Of course, each of us is ultimately responsible for our own actions."

To this declaration, Europe did not disagree.

Demoleon continued, "If a man must accept responsibility for his misdeeds, how can it be any different for his good works? Is it not equally preposterous to attribute them to a benign spirit?"

Europe observed the symmetry in Demoleon's argument. That she did not immediately concur reflected her reluctance to completely destroy a path by which she might later need to retreat.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Loren Mazzacane Connors - unreleased live recording, track 1 (October 30, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

August 6, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Gibbous

Much can be obscured in darkness. Demoleon knew this well, for he, no less than his companions, had walked the unlit corridors of the labyrinth. He accepted that he had traveled in circles, unintentionally returning to junctures, which he had left weeks or months earlier. He suspected that he retraced his steps more frequently than he could confirm, because those features in the stone--peculiar veins of copper, a curiously arranged formation of crystalline cubes of galena, or a mark chiseled in the rock--by which he might get his bearings, were hidden in shadow.

In truth, it was Demoleon's purpose, more than anything else, which was lost in the maze. There is, it has been written, nothing intrinsically sinful in losing one's way but, of course, the susceptibility to certain varieties of depravity may be accentuated when one suffers from a disorientation of one's principles. In this case, the darkness is also useful in concealing one's surrender to unsavory impulses.

Eurymedusa had no interest in Demoleon's confession. She remained far from the shore, all but her head submerged in the cold waters of her lake. At the first opportunity, she interrupted him. "It is better to remain silent," she advised him, "than to speak of such things. For my part, I will deny ever having heard mention of your misdeeds."

Demoleon had hoped for advice if not exoneration. Disappointed, he retreated into the passage by which he had arrived.

Before he disappeared entirely, Eurymedusa, in a flash of remorse, called out after him, as if she were a priestess prescribing penance, "The forecast in the labyrinth calls for more darkness. What atonement you seek, must be performed behind the same secretive veil as the transgressions, which you intend to redress."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Loren Mazzacane Connors - unreleased live recording, track 2 (October 30, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

August 7, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Gibbous

Idas had, for the time being, lost interest in the motivations of the minotaur. It seemed the beast had succumbed to a similar ennui, for it neglected its predatory role within the labyrinth. Idas had heard no sign of the creature for a substantial period of time, though it was difficult for him to determine precisely how much time had passed, since the absence of the rising and setting of the sun removed any means of counting the days. Lacking a clock, his mind exaggerated the duration of the minotaur's reprieve. It seemed to stretch a thousand years. How could Idas be expected to remain interested in an obsolete threat? He discovered a newfound security in the quiet solitude of the mine.

He came upon Melanippe, parchment in hand, intent on her efforts to map the labyrinth in its entirety. She had taken to naming specific chambers so as to distinguish one from another. "What should we call this one?"

The medium-sized cavern held the same darkness as the others. Nor did any extravagant mineralogical formations catch the eye of Idas. He breathed in the darkness. He detected no scent of minotaur. "Low Larkspur," he answered.

When Melanippe asked for an explanation, Idas relayed that, in the early spring, the green buds of the larkspur were toxic to pastured livestock. While the minotaur was no ordinary bull, perhaps something of the sort in this chamber kept it away.

Melanippe found this reference unnecessarily obtuse. Since it described no intrinsic quality of the chamber, 'Low Larkspur' would not help a later visitor identify it. Nevertheless, she added the name to her map with the understanding that there is neither a means nor a purpose in entirely eliminating ambiguity from the life of men and women, so let what poetry is possible remain.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, John Zorn & Ikue Mori - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (November 5, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

August 8, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Gibbous

Under no circumstances did Melanippe expect that the map of the labyrinth, which she was carefully constructing, should be used to justify taking one route over another. For her, the best use of the map was to provide information with a minimum of errors, rather than to suggest the superiority of a particular path. In the mine, the various corridors were more or less equivalent. One tunnel might be a bit narrower while a second might have more inclines and declines but, given the interconnected of the maze, any traveler could choose from a variety of paths. Therefore Melanippe was taken aback when Hippophorbas demanded to see her map so that he could determine the series of tunnels and shafts most likely to return them to the surface.

"It's not that kind of map," she said, in her attempt at an explanation.

"Then what kind of map is it?"

"It's a different map to each person," she replied, somewhat tentatively, fearful that Hippophorbas might react poorly to her admittedly ambiguous description. "With this map, each person can find their own way." She paused then added as a belated disclaimer, "Ideally."

Hippophorbas was in no frame of mind to absorb Melanippe's message. Taking the parchment from her, he studied it for some time before, feigning success, he gruffly handed it back and marched off.

Although it did not contribute to making the world a better place, Melanippe ignored her impulse to call after Hippophorbas. He would find out for himself that the tunnel down which he headed was blocked by an impassable ravine.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, John Zorn & Ikue Mori - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-8 (November 5, 1999, Tonic, New York, United States, digital files)

August 9, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Gibbous

As the period of his incarceration within the labyrinth grew, Hippophorbas became annoyed with the minotaur's remoteness. It seemed unfair that he should have to live in constant vigilance, not knowing each time he turned a corner if the beast would attack. "Show yourself!" His voice echoed harmlessly through dark tunnels.

It was a combination of weariness and irritation that provoked Hippophorbas to accost Periboea, the brave, with unkind words when the two met at a fork in the mine. He had heard her speak, more than once, of her plans to end the reign of terror of the monster of the maze. "Why have you not yet slain the beast?"

"I'm working on it," Periboea assured him. "This is an endeavor which requires preparation paired with the right opportunity in order to be successful."

In truth, Periboea had begun to suspect that the minotaur was unkillable. Perhaps, it existed as a foil, against which she, and others like her, might test her mettle. She could no more vanquish it than could the next would-be hero to arise behind her, or the one after him. The realization that she did not possess the means to accomplish her goal, which, as Hippophorbas correctly noted, she had publicly declared, did not strengthen her conviction. To the contrary, it whittled away at the only sense of purpose that kept her from huddling uselessly in a remote and unlit corner of the mine.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Peter Brötzmann & Shoji Hano - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (March 30, 2000, Minor Jazz, Graz, Austria, digital files)

August 10, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Melite; Moon: Gibbous

All things considered, a direct confrontation with the minotaur, in which Periboea faced it head-on and the beast perished by the might of her hand, seemed the best approach to killing it, except that her plan required extraordinary courage and the probability of success was not great. The more practical alternative was to lure the bull into a trap.

"It still would take courage," Melite countered, "from the one acting as bait at the bottom of the pit." Not by coincidence did this comment emerge after Periboea had solicited her to perform that very role. Melite added, "And a measure of athleticism to scramble up the rope before the beast got hold of me." She turned to Periboea, "What should happen to me if the beast wrapped a claw around my dangling ankle?"

"You would surely die," Periboea confirmed.

Melite nodded. "Tell me again, why can't you be the one in the pit?"

"I must lure it there, racing just ahead of the monster. I shall disappear within a narrow crevice a few strides before the pit. Your shouting, if not your scent, shall lead it the last bit, where the false floor will splinter beneath its weight."

"Even should I escape, what shall be my prize? To stand at the lip of the trench and to watch you and the others throw spears at it until it is stuck as full as a porcupine in its burrow? I may even have the chance to hurl a spear or two myself if I so desire."

Periboea did not especially appreciate Melite's description of the noble hunt. She was reminded that not all people possessed the appropriate disposition to make the world a safer place through the forceful subjugation of their enemies. However, upon reflection, Periboea conceded that this balance of attitudes was, all in all, for the best.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Peter Brötzmann & Shoji Hano - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (March 31, 2000, Schlachthof, Wels, Austria, digital files)

August 11, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Gibbous

Melite supposed that she would never again see the light of day or feel the warmth of the sun on her face. She would die trapped in the subterranean corridors of the labyrinth, either at the hands of the minotaur or in some other, less gruesome way. Her resignation to this fate induced in Melite a kind of masochism. If this was to be her destiny, then let her know the full extent of it. She delved downward, further into the mine, seeking the point in the abyss most hidden from the sun. Although she did not know what she would discover there, she presumed it would be nothing more than insight into the darkest aspect of herself.

Antimachus, following much the same reasoning, found the maiden standing statuesque in utter darkness at the bottom of the mine. "Oh, beautiful night flower," he called to her.

Melite did not reply to his greeting for she thought it merely a trick of the mind, caused by a combination of the great depth and her extended isolation.

Antimachus came forward and embraced her. He found her flesh softer than stone, though she remained no more animated than if she had been petrified. With her arms hung limply at her side, Melite made no attempt to acknowledge his embrace. Because she did not respond, Antimachus found her unwelcoming and ungrateful. He released her and departed.

Later, by chance, both youth and maiden separately discovered other shafts leading even deeper into the Earth. They followed them, thinking to make up for this most recent failure by testing their resiliency under even more extreme conditions.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Yukihiro Isso - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (April 29, 2000, Jazz In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 12, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Gibbous

As is the case with many activities, the appeal of daydreaming depends strongly on the commitment of the actor to the action. Should idle fantasies lose their allure, the past as well as the present risks being damaged, for the tale has been told of the escapist, who in renouncing his fancies, realizes that he has wasted his life in a hollow pursuit. Antimachus speculated that there were two remedies for this problem: either to avoid getting lost in one's imagination in the first place or, alternatively, to construct daydreams with intrinsic value so as to avoid ever having to confront the possibility of their insignificance. As a life-long daydreamer, Antimachus greatly preferred to realize the latter solution.

When he met Hesione in the tunnels, he promised her, "If I dreamt of a way to escape the labyrinth, I would take you with me."

"Little brother," she replied, "I am grateful for your generous concern. What of the others in the mine? Would your dream deliver them as well?"

"As many as I can readily find," Antimachus assured her.

"And those who have grown accustomed to silence, to darkness and to dwelling ever in the shadow of the minotaur, if they do not wish to go, will you leave them behind?"

Antimachus frowned. In his daydream, he had not considered the possibility that others had daydreams of their own, perhaps at odds with their own welfare. If they had indeed come to embrace their dream with an intensity equal to his own, he doubted his ability to dislodge them. Because he recognized the harm that could be done in separating dreamer from dream, to Hesione he said only, "Those who cling to darkness must be left in darkness."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Yukihiro Isso - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-10 (April 29, 2000, Jazz In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 13, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Idas; Moon: Gibbous

"Let there be a light to show the way for those lost in these dark passages. In the absence of torches or oil lamps, let me serve instead as a source of illumination." So spoke Hesione in the midst of her solitude. She traveled through several more corridors of the labyrinth, randomly selecting a direction at each intersection. "It is not truthful," she said, "to call this progress when there is no destination."

The darkness resisted all attempts to dispel or even dilute it. "Let me burn brighter," declared Hesione. "Let the flames erupt from my garments and consume my flesh as mortal fuel. Let my hair flare and curl, drifting away in segments of weightless ash."

It is fair, gentle reader, to wonder who should take comfort from this ghastly light, a doubt shared by Hesione, for when she heard the approach of footsteps, she immediately grew silent and ceased all thoughts of spontaneous combustion.

Idas noted a faint, residual glow emanating around the shape of Hesione. Thinking it an artefact of the darkness, he blinked and the outline was gone. He was left with an uneasy suspicion that the maiden was keeping a secret from him. He had before him then a decision: either to pursue the mystery or to forget it. We should not judge Idas too harshly for choosing to move on. There is something gruesome in the act of self-immolation no matter how noble the intent. The same is true, though to a lesser extent, of the metaphysical fire Hesione sought to kindle.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Yukihiro Isso - unreleased live recording, tracks 11-15 (April 29, 2000, Jazz In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 14, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Gibbous

Each of us may find cause to wonder about the motivations of someone with whom we have come in contact. More often than not, we are prompted to do so because this person has acted in a way which has harmed us, or of which we simply disapprove. Less frequently, we conjecture, are we moved to consider the motives of one who has committed a good deed, unless it is to suspect an underlying, perhaps self-serving, incentive.

Amphidocus supposed that he was the exception to the rule, for he desired to know the ambitions of all those whom he met that he might construct from this collage of experiences, his own purpose. He remained conscientiously vigilant against bias in the collection of this data. He would categorize motives only later when he selected certain examples for further study.

Idas, on the other hand, cared not what motivated his fellow men and women. He remained exclusively interested in the convoluted passion and rationale of the minotaur. A man who forsakes interest in his own people in favor of an understanding of a monster runs the risk of losing touch with his community. In his single-minded contemplation of the solitary beast, Idas was blind to his own exile.

Considered in this light, neither Amphidocus nor Idas are especially suitable as role models for interacting with others, an exercise in which neither scientific objectivity nor indifference are regarded as acceptable replacements for ordinary empathy.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Shuichi Chino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (June 16, 2000, Jazz In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 15, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Gibbous

Andromache dreamt of music. When she awoke she played the tune upon her flute repeatedly, lest she forget the melody. Not surprisingly, she produced the music of dreams, languid and ambiguous. Because the gods did not visit Andromache's dreams, her music possessed no aspects of the divine. To the contrary, she played a music inseparable from the mortality of the one who generated it. Its rhythm was a heartbeat, the spacing and duration of the notes limited by the breath of the performer. At its somber ending, the music can be said to have died.

Perchance, during the moments when the dream ventured into our physics-based reality, Melanippe wandered close enough to hear it. Rather than revealing herself, she listened from a distance in the darkness of the labyrinth. On her map, she marked the tunnel as 'The Tunnel of Dream Music'. The song ended soon after she wrote this name on the parchment. It would become only an enigmatic memorial of something that had come before.

To those who would peruse the map at leisure, long after both Andromache and Melanippe had passed into myth, 'The Tunnel of Dream Music' is capable of invoking a range of feelings in individuals. It is far better, we suggest, to think of the waking pleasure of the flautist as she translated a fading dream into song that echoed through the twisting corridor than to recall the contempt of the cartographer, who rather than responding to the music in the moment chose to link the music indefinitely to a dank and dismal cave.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Shuichi Chino - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-6 (June 16, 2000, Jazz In F, Oizumi Gakuen, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 16, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Gibbous

When a man or a woman is described as "someone not made for this world", a great many different and potentially contradictory traits can be implied. The interpretation of the phrase depends more upon the one doing the interpreting rather than the subject to whom the description is applied. For our part, we like to think of the incompatibility of Menestheus--a man not made for this world if ever there was one--as stemming from his unremittingly gentle nature.

To our surprise, Hippophorbas considered Menestheus in a far less charitable light. When the two met at a juncture in the labyrinth, Hippophorbas had occasion to reveal his thoughts, asking, "Menestheus, how is it that you have come not to care about anything?"

"I beg your pardon?" came the startled reply.

Hippophorbas proceeded to share his appraisal of the other. "You must not care, even about yourself, for you do nothing to defend your person. Others run at the approaching hoofbeats of the minotaur, yet you continue along your lackadaisical way, as if you did not value your life."

Of course, a person not made for this world cannot be expected to readily defend their status. The explanation of their nature is no more bound to the logic of this world than are their actions. Menestheus was his own answer. He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands, palms up, as a gesture of apology, we suppose, before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel behind him.

We also cannot expect Hippophorbas to be satisfied by this response. Part and parcel with Menestheus' role was the infrequency with which he found accommodation for his eccentricities.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Taketeru Kudo - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (February 9, 2001, Au Totem, Nancy, France, digital files)

August 17, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Gibbous

Although he sometimes doubted that it was nothing more than empty gestures, Porphyrion continued to pray. He prayed for those who wandered in the labyrinth, that they might escape the predation of the minotaur and, in the long, dark hours to which they were delivered, also elude despair. He prayed too for himself, though he felt it meaningless and unnecessary, that he might find the willpower if not the faith to continue to pray.

Periboea crept upon Porphyrion as he sat on a chair-sized boulder in a cavern strewn with rocky debris. Despite his silence, Periboea recognized the itinerant priest and the act in which he was engaged. When she stood just a few steps behind him, she said, "Don't pray for me."

Perhaps Porphyrion had heard her coming because he did not jump at the sound of her voice. "I pray, Periboea, for your courage and for the success of your campaign."

"No," the warrior-maiden argued. "I don't want it. I want what courage I have to be my own, not a favor lent temporarily at a moment of need by a passing spirit. When songs are sung of the slaying of the minotaur, if it be by my hand, I want no mention of the gods' intervention."

Porphyrion appeared about to reply but Periboea was not finished. "And if my courage fails me and I am destined to cower in terror, still I want no god to grant me fortitude, for, come that day, that shame shall be all I know. If it is taken from me, there will be nothing left for the beast, when it finally towers over me, to claim as its rightful prize."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Chie Mukai - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (March 4, 2001, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 18, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Melite; Moon: Gibbous

Because Europe believed that the minotaur did not exist, she toyed with an alternative belief, namely that all threats are manufactured by the mind. If this were the case, she supposed it also possible that an individual who was able to master her own mind could make herself invulnerable to much of malaise to which the rest of the world was susceptible.

Of course, mastering the mind is a task of legendary proportions, requiring a discipline found only in the most extreme ascetics. It is no coincidence that the few who seek to cultivate this self-control do so in remote places where they find isolation from the provocations and prevarications of their fellow men and women. It seems possible among some such hermits that their dedication may lapse for stretches of time, during which they are no more productive than anyone else who excuses themselves from the common labor of their community.

Melite, she of boundless forgiveness, a maiden for whom no crime had yet been committed in which the perpetrator had fallen beyond the bounds of mercy, came upon Europe in her isolation. She found the grace within herself to absolve Europe for having turned inward, for her unwillingness to help others lost in the labyrinth, and for the wretched indolence her seclusion had induced in her.

Far from perceiving herself as having committed a crime, Europe believed she was engaged in a spiritual quest. That two well-meaning people should come to such different conclusions is only an ordinary manifestation of an imperfect world. That the same two women should meet in darkness, exchanging gentle words and kind sentiments, is only an extraordinary expression of the best of humanity.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Sabu Toyozumi - unreleased live recording, track 1 (March 18, 2001, Lady Jane, Shimokitazawa, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

August 19, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Gibbous

The arc of the project of humanity as a whole, which some call amelioration, is, by its nature, beyond the ability of any single person to direct. The scale of the effort is too vast and the pace with which causation can be established too slow to observe in a lifespan. At the same time, there is no other agent, aside from the collective action of human beings, which propels the project forward. One response to these two seemingly contradictory admissions is to adhere to the advice to "do the best that you can."

Demoleon did not always follow this counsel. Sometimes the imbalance between his individual insignificance and his potential contribution to a collective effort was so great that he abandoned the project. "If you don't work toward the common good," he said to Antimachus in a whisper, "you are left with two choices: either to do nothing or to work against it." He spoke, as if from experience, saying, "It's hard to do nothing all the days of your life. Its more natural to fall into bad habits."

When he lost sight of the great task, Antimachus had a bad habit of his own, namely to lose himself in mental fantasies. He participated in internal monologues or, at times, dialogues with imagined partners, staged in an empty amphitheater situated atop a hill surrounded by a pastoral landscape. In this idyllic scene, Antimachus had no interest in the indiscretions of Demoleon.

Each expressed much in this encounter, though little was gained. They parted ways, with only their disappointment in common. Social amelioration, like biological evolution, is a stupid, unguided and tentative process, in which dead-ends outweigh positive change a million to one. Still, it is best to keep at it. There is, at present, no obviously superior alternative.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Barry Guy & Paul Smyth - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (April 7, 2001, Project, Dublin, Ireland, digital files)

August 20, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Gibbous

Eurymedusa supposed that the nature of honesty would be very different if humans lived exclusively in water. Dwelling in an unbreathable medium would force neighbors to more openly demonstrate their convictions. Because the consequence of refusing to help someone who struggled was death by drowning, there would be less opportunity to hide behind excuses for one's indifference. Likewise, it would be much easier to express support for someone by physically helping them keep their head above water.

"That," said Eurymedusa, "must be why I have come to call this lake my home."

Standing on the stone bank, Hesione surveyed the cold, dark expanse that spread out around Eurymedusa, who floated serenely, all but her black locks and ivory face hidden by the opaque surface. Hesione lifted her eyes to take in the millions of tons of cavernous rock overhead. She suspected that there were other, unstated reasons, which had drawn Eurymedusa to the subterranean lake. However, she let the swimmer's claim go unchallenged. Instead Hesione took off her gown and waded into the water. The chill instantly permeated her flesh and made a determined path for her bones and joints. When she reached deep water, her toes left the lake bed. She was not a proficient swimmer. "Little sister," said Hesione, as her muscles began to cramp and she to flounder. "You..." Her words were cut off as she sank into the lake.

Eurymedusa dove effortlessly and, wrapping an arm around her waist, delivered Hesione to the shore. We speculate that Hesione tested Eurymedusa in this way in order to provide her with the opportunity to demonstrate her commitment to her convictions. It should not go unstated that Hesione risked her life had her confidence in Eurymedusa been misplaced. O, happy endings!

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Barry Guy & Paul Smyth - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-6 (April 7, 2001, Project, Dublin, Ireland, digital files)

August 21, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Gibbous

Although she would accuse us of making much ado about nothing, there were instances when Melanippe, the cartographer, found her map unsatisfactory. Because she recorded the map based on her own experiences, it was capable of leading her only to places where she had already been. The various lines and notations on the parchment provided no guidance regarding the paths she should take to fulfill her desire for a life of purpose. Of course, there is no map to that end and, if there were, we would ignore it, since the only tolerable future is one that is unknown.

When Amphidocus encountered Melanippe in a cave full of irregularly spaced columns stretching from the ground to the ceiling, he initially mistook her still form for a pillar.

"There's a name for such at thing," Melanippe explained, "I shall call this place 'the Caryatid Cavern'."

"No one will believe that such a cave exists," Amphidocus replied. "Who would carve women from stone, only to dwell in darkness in this forsaken pit that no one visits by choice?"

His comment, intended to express his pessimism, instead brightened Melanippe's mood. "I need many more sites like this on my map--impossible places and places that no one would want to visit."

"Why?" asked Amphidocus. "What point is there in showing the way to ridiculous spots or disagreeable corners?"

"By the rumor of their existence, such rooms will make the other, mundane destinations of the labyrinth, in which we routinely discover ourselves, all the more palatable, all the more open to possibility."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Martin Nolan - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (April 10, 2001, Project, Dublin, Ireland, digital files)

August 22, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Gibbous

"I suppose that we have done something to deserve this," said Hippophorbas to Andromache. The two had met by chance in the course of wandering the endless corridors of the labyrinth.

Andromache shook her head in disagreement, her long hair brushing first one way, then the other across her back. "I, for one, am innocent," she said. "Our selection as tribute to the minotaur came by way of the lottery; I hardly feel accountable. What blame there is should be placed on the luck of the draw." She paused then seemed as if she was going to add something more, but fell silent.

For a while the two sat in darkness on the rough floor of the stone chamber. Once lead, copper and silver had been extracted from these walls, but no miner had profited from this dire place for many years.

"It could be that the hands of the gods determined the outcome of the lottery," Hippophorbas suggested.

"Yes," said Andromache, though she did not agree at all. "That is what is meant by apophenia--the perception of meaning in random processes."

"Each of us has a right to interpret events as we choose," Hippophorbas insisted.

"Indeed," Andromache replied, this time in earnest. Another silence ensued. The mine was deathly silent, save for the shallow breaths of the youth and the maiden. "Hippophorbas, I would ask you to exercise your talent for apophenia. Invent for me a meaning to this perpetual waiting, that I might better draw inspiration from it."

"It could happen," Hippophorbas said, as if entertaining the notion that a portion of the outcome lay within his control.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masaki Kikuchi - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (April 15, 2001, Aoi Heya, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 23, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Gibbous

The combination of uninterrupted darkness, dank air and long, meandering hours in the labyrinth began to play tricks on Periboea's mind. The silence that she had taken for granted gave way sporadically to ambiguous sounds with no clear origin. Perhaps a mouse scurried by unseen in the shadows along a gravel path, its nails emitting a minute scratching against the shards of rock displaced in its passing. Or, alternatively, perhaps the cave walls gave voice to the tectonic groans that had traveled vast distances up through stone to express an agony to those above who thought their own burdens too much too endure.

Periboea sought reassurance in the various imperfections of the labyrinth's silence. However, the messages that she interpreted were invariably unsympathetic. "Give up, Periboea! Here in the labyrinth the only thing you will be able to find is the realization that your ideals for yourself and for your life were delusions. Your fearlessness is a ruse. Even if you withstand the violence of the minotaur, you shall yet succumb to the miasma of the labyrinth."

When Periboea heard the shuffling footsteps of Menestheus, she asked if he too perceived similar messages conjured, it seemed, from the very substance of the mine.

Menestheus, a gentle soul by nature, did not know how to properly respond to such a question. He neither sought to upset Periboea by calling her mad nor did he desire to abet her delirium by validating her hallucinations. We must find it within ourselves to forgive Menestheus if, faced with this dilemma, he chose to forgo solidarity with Periboea, instead keeping the troublesome messages that the labyrinth directed to his ears to himself.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masato Tomobe - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (April 27, 2001, Heaven's Door, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 24, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Gibbous

In her wandering through the labyrinth, Melite encountered Porphyrion, the itinerant priest, who traveled similar paths. She asked the holy man, "Do you believe that the gods look after the affairs of mortals?"

"I do believe that," he replied.

Melite then asked Porphyrion if he also thought that the gods were merciful, capable of forgiving a woman for her crimes.

"If she is truly repentant," said Porphyrion, "the gods will forgive her."

Continuing, Melite asked, "As priest, are you capable of absolving me of my sins in the name of the gods?"

Porphyrion examined the maiden's shadowed face. She was known as Melite the merciful. Far from a reputation for immorality, she was recognized for her calm and quiet bearing, always ready with a word of conciliation, never one to hold a grudge. He found it difficult to imagine the sin that weighed on her mind. "Yes," he said, answering her question, "I have been granted the divine authority to pardon you. First though, you must confess to your crime."

Melite cast her eyes to the ground. "I have not been true to my ideal for myself. I have not treated others as I would like to be treated. I have shown them cruelty when mercy was called for..."

The litany of transgressions, which Melite recited, contained no items that struck the priest as especially heinous. To label such ordinary behavior as sins seemed itself an aggrandizement. He could not help but form the opinion that the sense of drama was somewhat indulgent. All the same, he observed Melite's tears of remorse and responded appropriately. He forgave her then issued a prayer requesting strength of will for her. Finally, he admonished her to avoid such behavior in the future.

In this exchange, both priest and penitent adhered to an unwritten script. To call the scene rehearsed is to overlook the genuine value in daily life to saying the obvious, especially when it comes to the offering and accepting of apologies.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Thurston Moore - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (May 18, 2001, Cinema Laurier, Victoriaville, Quebec, Canada, digital files)

August 25, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Europe; Moon: Gibbous

There is nothing so different as believing and not believing. Here, we think not particularly of faith in the divine. Rather, we attribute this fundamental distinction to a perspective or lack thereof, which imbues all things with the potential for meaning. As others have said before us, an incontrovertible act, such as dying of hunger, may be framed in diametrically opposite ways--a defiant hunger strike to protest injustice or simply malnourishment caused by overlong drought and inadequate reserves. At the same time, belief changes nothing. In either case, hunger, by strike or famine, kills. The body dies.

For Antimachus, the minotaur was a living symbol. It stalked them as they wandered blindly through the corridors of the labyrinth. Yet, was it not also true that the beast provided an impetus to keep moving, to ward off the urge to lie down and to allow the substance of his body to decompose, leaving a vaguely-shaped reminder of the person whom he had been?

Europe, on the other hand, denied the existence of the minotaur. She saw no need to invent fictional motivations. Did she not possess sufficient intelligence and perseverance to persist in the absence of fable?

There is a single answer to both these questions, and it fluctuates in time, due perhaps to rhythms in brain chemistry responding to a chaotic myriad of external forces and experiences. Sometimes, Antimachus failed to imagine a value in the minotaur, moments which darkened his soul. At times, Europe was no less threatened when she proved unable to generate her own purpose.

While caught in a funk of ennui, the pair met by chance in a cave. With no alternative in sight, they made light of their existential plight. Soon, Europe supposed, as a result of some unforeseen event, their perspectives would change again and the despair that plagued them would dissipate for a while. Who among us can claim not to have found solace in a similar musing?

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Thurston Moore - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-8 (May 18, 2001, Cinema Laurier, Victoriaville, Quebec, Canada, digital files)

August 26, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Gibbous

If Hesione surrendered, albeit conditionally, to the reality of her imperfections, what remained unclear to her was the best path forward. Her instincts were flawed; she could trust them only to a certain extent. The teachings of the elders too were not wholly reliable, having been crafted and refined by generations of bias. Fortunately, the impenetrable convolutions of the labyrinth made clear to Hesione her powerless to direct her own destiny, so at least she was aware of her limitations.

Demoleon found her in the maze, though we cannot say that he had been looking precisely for her, just someone. In response to her disorientation, he offered the comfort of his companionship. Again, we are unable to conclusively state whether his intentions were altruistic or self-serving, for Hesione did not give him the chance to express himself. Suspecting him immediately of licentious intent, she excused herself and fled. As Hesione ran through the twisting, dark corridors, her body was flooded not by a surge of adrenalin but by a satisfying conviction that she was doing the right thing. This sensation thrilled her for she had for so long been deprived of anything like it.

For this reason, Hesione began to seek out situations, which could be readily perceived as black and white, presenting stark alternatives with unmistakable consequences. To her credit, when she inevitably encountered shades of gray, she generally accepted them as such and skirted, as best she was able, the array of uncertain futures that they suggested. We aspire to follow Hesione's example in this regard. We seek to abandon our current habit of ignoring the gray altogether, rejecting the tendency to perceive only a false, binary representation, which offers the security of an obviously good choice.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & LKO - unreleased live recording, track 1 (July 26, 2001, The Doors, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

August 27, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Gibbous

In his wandering through the labyrinth, Idas had formulated a new question, which he wished to put to the minotaur when he had the chance. "Never mind the terrible claws," Idas said to Eurymedusa, the maiden of the lake.

She remained a dozen yards from the stone bank, but their voices carried clearly across the black water. "Never mind the wicked horns," she added in a desultory tone.

"Indeed," Idas continued, "I shall dodge each swipe of its talons and goring thrust until I am able to ask my question and the beast to answer."

"Never mind its bullish mind and bovine tongue..."

"I shall understand the meaning of its bellows," Idas insisted, "for I have dedicated myself these past weeks and months to unraveling the mystery of the beast that stalks these corridors."

"And what, pray tell, shall you ask the minotaur?"

Pleased with her show of curiosity, Idas smiled and replied. "I shall interrogate the creature with the only question worth asking: By what twist of its bestial nature has it arrived at the scheme to prolong our misery by maintaining the threat of its near proximity but withholding the killing blow?"

"That's the only question?" Eurymedusa made no attempt to hide her skepticism.

"It's the only one that matters to us, who have dwelt too long in these nightmare caverns."

"You will find no enlightenment in the beast's reply, for I think you already know the answer."

"Indeed," Idas agreed again, "but what satisfaction I shall know in hearing the beast confess to the same smothering indifference, in which the rest of us are trapped."

written while listening to:  Knead - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-12 (August 10, 2001, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 28, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Gibbous

Among individuals, there is a distribution in temperament regarding the willingness to participate in endeavors ordinarily judged to be for the common good. Andromache wandered through the abandoned mine. From time to time, she stumbled across remnants of the miners--a broken tool or a scrap of cloth--more personal mementos than the hewn walls they left behind. Those miners had been enjoined to labor in darkness for the good of their selves, the families they supported and the government that taxed their earnings. Andromache experienced more pity than admiration for the workers, now long gone. She found within herself little desire to participate in the common good. She sat alone in a serpentine tunnel and drew forth pleasing but ultimately unproductive melodies from her flute.

Lured by the echo of her music, Demoleon came upon Andromache. He found her listless and reproved her for her idleness, saying, "Why are you not helping the rest of us discover a way out of the labyrinth?"

"Life is too short," she replied. "to spend on such a tedious task. Besides, I have come to doubt an exit exists."

Although there is little in this exchange to buttress our argument, we should nevertheless like to suggest that there is merit in Andromache's refusal to contribute to the shared duty, and not because of its futility, perceived or real. We have experienced a compulsive attraction to the intimation of virtue in what is otherwise known as uselessness. We suspect that we are not alone in this sentiment because those who no longer regard productivity as a virtue still manage to appear among us, presumably enabled by more industrious but all the same sympathetic companions.

written while listening to:  Knead - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (December 8, 2001, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 29, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Gibbous

Menestheus sat on a flat, dry patch of stone beside the subterranean lake. His legs were bent before him and his arms were wrapped around his knees. He seemed a solitary figure amidst the cavernous darkness but closer inspection revealed a swimmer floating almost effortlessly in the water, with naught but her head protruding from the surface. Although Eurymedusa had no intention of spying upon Menestheus, she waited for the right moment to announce her presence.

There is little point in estimating how long the two maintained their respective positions, for in the memory of the cosmos, it is a static image, preserved for eternity: the youth contemplating darkness and the maiden observing him from the water. The clarity of the portrait is perfect but even our recollection of the moment threatens to disturb and befoul it. Let us be honest with ourselves; we have nothing to contribute to this exchange.

Words came without sound from the mouth of Menestheus. His tongue and lips formed the correct shapes but the lungs did not expel them with sufficient force to resonate through the damp cave air. We are able to interpret neither phrases nor disconnected syllables. If we insert other words from another time and another place, it is only because it seemed most likely that these words might capture the sentiment Menestheus could not bring himself to voice.

"You, miracle, searching for a miracle, if you confess you were nothing from the beginning, all will go well, won't it?"^*

written while listening to:  Vajra - unreleased live recording, track 1 (January 27, 2002, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

^*Haino, Keiji, excerpted from "Though it went so well?", A Death Never To Be Complete, translated by Alan Cummings, Tokuma Japan Communications (TKCF 77014), Tokyo, 1997.

August 30, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Gibbous

The day will come, if it hasn't already, when humanity will share the same fate as their gods. Porphyrion felt this doom keenly as he wandered, hopelessly lost, through the myriad passages of the labyrinth. "Men and women have dismissed the gods and declared them irrelevant, if not dead." He spoke aloud, as if he had an audience of one, hidden from view by a sharp turn of the maze. "Soon, by our own declaration, shall we proclaim ourselves irrelevant and, once irrelevant, moribund. What shall become of us on that day?"

Amphidocus was no less lost than Porphyrion when the two stumbled into each other. Porphyrion seized Amphidocus by the shoulders, in part to steady himself and also to hold him in place for a repeat performance of his earlier soliloquy, concluding "What shall become of us on that day?"

Porphyrion had happened to catch Amphidocus in high spirits. The latter took it upon himself to cheer up the priest. "You have it all wrong," he said. "Do you think the gods looked upon it as a doom when humanity released them from the obligation to look after their creations? Of course not. The gods scampered away to a celestial paradise, their brows no longer darkened by the perversity of their former charges." He smiled, though Porphyrion did not join him. "It shall be the same with men and women. Only by accepting the great truth of our meaninglessness shall we find the freedom to construct a framework in which we can imagine our own best principles for living, not only for ourselves but for our progeny as well."

"I like your optimism very much," admitted Porphyrion, "but I have a hard time distinguishing your great truth from the faltering status quo to which I so object."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Masonna - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (July 17, 2002, Loft, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

August 31, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Gibbous

Europe sat a short distance from Andromache, who played a wandering melody on her flute. That she should think of the music as 'wandering' disturbed her, because her recent life in the labyrinth was naught but an extended rambling, without destination. To hear in the intermingling of Andromache's high and low notes her own inability to extricate herself from the maze filled her with a gloomy disappointment. She had hoped for a momentary escape when she had run into the flautist.

Apparently unaware of her listener's thoughts, Andromache paused in her performance. "I like playing for you, Europe," she said, "because you do not fear that the echoes of my song will alert the minotaur to the presence of prey, drawing it to us." Everyone in the mine knew, by this time, that Europe did not believe that the minotaur existed as anything more than an unsubstantiated rumor. Andromache's words soothed Europe.

Andromache, however, did not share in her companion's doubt. To the contrary, Andromache suspected that each man carried within himself the seed of the minotaur's bestial nature. There was little chance of entirely avoiding this much better distributed, albeit diluted, menace. So, Andromache played her flute without regard for the consequences.

The two maidens indulged in the luxury of a music free of inhibitions, each playing their time-honored role of artist and audience. That they were able to construct familiar comforts in the midst of the labyrinth was not a manifestation of exclusively vice or virtue, but was all the same fortuitous. It seems best to take advantage of such opportunities as they appear, regardless of the surrounding circumstances.

written while listening to:  Vajra - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (August 14, 2002, Star Pine's Cafe, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)