The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

January 1, 2019
Let us celebrate the unpredictability of life, as we recognize the pervasive underestimation of the role that chance plays in governing our fortunes, good and ill. The horoscopes in this practicum are intended to provide a lens through which sundry events of interest can be interpreted without recourse to the conceit of self-determination.

The horoscopes take the form of vignettes featuring two individuals, a traveler and a companion. Both parts are selected from the fourteen sacrificial victims offered to the minotaur, seven youths and seven maidens.^* With fourteen choices of traveler and thirteen companions, there are 182 permutations. Each pair appears under a crescent and gibbous moon, doubling the number of horoscopes to 364. One horoscope shall be presented each day for the remainder of the year.

The method of prognostication used to select among the horoscopes is cleromancy, or divination through the casting of lots. Briefly, a map is laid out in which the entirety of the area is divided into fourteen regions, each corresponding to a sacrificial victim. Upon this map, a minimum of two stones and one coin are cast. The area in which the traveling stone comes to rest identifies the traveler, likewise for the companion stone. Should the traveler and companion land in the same region, the stones are recast in whole or in part. The two sides of the coin designate the auras of the crescent and gibbous moons. Often several additional stones are cast as well, which contribute to the randomization process but do not directly influence the reading. Once determined, an index identifies the page on which the particular horoscope (traveler, companion and moon) may be found.

^*Of the various lists of sacrificial victims, we rely on that attributed to Servius; see wikipedia.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Pathétique (P.S.F. Records, PSFD-50, 1994, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 2, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

When the opening to the mine was sealed behind them, the fourteen were cloaked in an impenetrable darkness. Forsaking what safety lay in numbers, they scattered, each to discover his or her own fate as they navigated the labyrinth. What goal can we expect for them to have set for themselves save to avoid the minotaur?

In this manner, time passed, measured by the nonlinear chronometer, which is the beating of the human heart. Each youth lived as best they were able, if existence in utter darkness can be called living at all.

Hippophorbas, like all the others, was a child of nobility. Yet he had reconciled himself to his current situation and abandoned the sense of entitlement, with which he had been raised. He hoped now only to pass each day free of terror and violence.

It was inevitable, given the intersecting passages within the maze, that two individuals would occasionally meet. The outcome of such encounters were never easy to predict, depending as they did upon the nature of the two people as well as all manner of trivialities associated with their recent experiences.

Seeking shelter herself, Melite found Hippophorbas sleeping soundly in a stone niche. She rested a hand on his shoulder, thinking to rouse him in search of what recent information he might share on safe paths through the mine. She reconsidered and withdrew her hand. In the labyrinth, there was little of more comfort than a deep, untroubled sleep. Leaving him as she found him, Melite departed. Such are encounters in the labyrinth; one party may not realize that an exercise of virtue has transpired at all.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Allegorical Misunderstanding (Avant, AVAN 008, 1993, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 3, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

The young maiden, Melanippe, sought a life of dignity, but not just for herself. She believed it impossible to live in an honorable manner if those by whom she was surrounded were deprived of the same privilege. Therefore, she pursued the uplifting of all, which is a noble, if impossible, undertaking. To complicate matters, she found herself trapped within the labyrinth, where matters of decency were liable to be overlooked in the interests of survival. In her idle moments, she fantasized that the minotaur, if only given the opportunity, could be redeemed with an offer to assume a dignified role in the narrative of its life. Melanippe had not yet had the chance to put this theory to the test.

Instead, she ran into Periboea, the brave. The girl hurriedly explained to Melanippe the plan that she had most recently concocted to conquer the beast. Her scheme involved an intricate arrangement of well-placed beams and stones. One or two of them would serve as bait, luring the beast into a narrow chasm. Periboea herself would be crouching in wait. When the minotaur passed the designated position, she would trigger the ambush and an avalanche of stone would fall upon its horned head, burying the creature beneath a cairn cut from the same rock as that in which it now dwelt.

"Of course," Periboea concluded, "we must construct the ambush gradually, piece by piece, lest it suspect a trap. It will require time and the efforts of all of us." Before heading off in darkness, she exhorted her fellow captive to take heart with the following admonition, "Melanippe, remain vigilant until the plan comes to fruition and we are free."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - A Death Never To Be Complete (Tokuma Japan Communications, TKCF 77014, 1997, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 4, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

As a boy, an overly inquisitive nature had routinely earned Idas rebukes from his mother, whose patience was tried by the endless questions of her son. "Go ask your father," became her regular refrain. Idas' father took a more benevolent view of his son's insatiable curiosity on topics both germane to the life of a child and otherwise. His father answered as best he could. When he did not know the answer, he encouraged Idas to find someone else who might possess the knowledge that he sought. Thus Idas was known by all in the region for his persistent and wide-ranging queries.

Wandering through the maze, Idas had half a mind to direct a few pertinent questions to the minotaur. For example, he desperately wanted to know whether the minotaur viewed the labyrinth as a castle or a prison. The answer seemed important to Idas in his ability to form a meaningful opinion of the beast and consequently to properly frame his own relationship to it.

Stumbling into Hippophorbas, he asked his momentary companion for his thoughts on the question. Hippophorbas smiled wistfully, an expression unseen in the darkness, "Idas, you might as well ask the minotaur if it would prefer to devour you braised or stewed!"

Idas was not put off by this reply. Indeed, to him the world took the form of a cornucopia of unresolved questions. That some of them should prove unpalatable bothered him not in the least, since, due to their abundance, he could readily find more pleasant questions to while away the dark days.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - The Time Is Nigh (Tokuma Japan Communications, TKCF 77015, 1997, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 5, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

Although their common bond sprang from nothing but the poor luck to be chosen by lottery to appease the minotaur, Hesione found herself drawn to a fellowship with her thirteen comrades in misfortune. When she was able to find a safe place to sleep, she often dreamt of them as if they were her family. She positioned herself fifth in a line of fourteen, leaving her nine younger siblings to aid as necessary and four elder, after whom she could model her behavior or with whom she could remonstrate, should their actions prove dubious. As for the minotaur, Hesione likened it to the neighbor's unruly dog, a fixture on the block, to be avoided with due prudence.

When Hesione encountered Melanippe, who by her accounting was third in the ordering of siblings of the labyrinth, she greeted her fondly, embracing her thin frame and releasing her only when she felt her pull away. "Melanippe, my sister," said Hesione, "will you spend an hour with me? I do so miss your company."

Melanippe's expression brightened in the darkness, for who can suppress, even in the bleakest of times, the surge of warmth that arises within oneself, when exposed to the kindness of a friend? And so they did pass an hour or two in each other's company, though they had been warned, before they were enclosed in the mine, that their best chance at prolonging their lives was to disperse, since the minotaur preferred to prey on groups. Sometimes, one must ignore good advice.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - A Little Longer Thus (Tokuma Japan Communications, TKCF 77020, 1998, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 6, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Each person routinely responds to events based on their personal situation and history, although not all of us may articulate this process as allowing perception to define reality. In this case, our words matter less than does our practice, since we need not openly acknowledge our individual role in crafting the physics-based reality in order to continue to participate in the exercise.

So it was with young Antimachus, a dreamer, who strode along the border between one world, defined by consensus of perception, and a second, subtly shifted by his own particular needs and expectations. Thus Antimachus saw his confinement in the labyrinth of the minotaur not as an appeasement of the beast, nor as a personal tragedy, nor yet a noble sacrifice to benefit the lives of loved ones in distant Athens. Rather, Antimachus perceived himself in the role of unlikely hero. Although, he was utterly unprepared to confront the beast, confront it he would with eyes sharpened by prolonged darkness and a will hardened by existence ever in the shadow of death.

"I might slay the beast," Antimachus said to Idas, listening idly. "Or we might each put a savage end to the other!" His voice conveyed his enthusiasm.

"How will you, Antimachus, of slight build and modest stamina, triumph over the minotaur?" Idas asked.

"We are in a mine, are we not?" replied Antimachus, as if the answer were obvious. "Not all the veins of gold, copper and lead have been stripped from the surrounding rock. With pick axe and hammer, shall I hew ore from deep caverns. With fire shall I smelt it into a shape the beast shall come to fear."

"And what form," Idas inquired, indulging his friend, "shall the doom of the minotaur take?"

"I don't know yet," Antimachus admitted, pleased despite his answer. Not all details of the passing of this physics-based reality had yet been made clear to his eyes.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - The Wisdom Prepared (Tokuma Japan Communications, TKCF 77021, 1998, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 7, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Melite pardoned the stone for confining her, just as she absolved the darkness for its absence of light and the stale, damp air of the tomb for the weariness and despondency, with which it sought to infect her. It was in her nature to forgive. Although she had shared this innermost secret with no one, Melite had gone so far as to grant a universal amnesty to all of creation, and its makers as well, for devising the treacherous scheme that had led her to this wretched fate. What else was there to forgive?

She held the right hand of Hesione in her own. Hesione treated Melite as if she were a younger sister, in need of reassurance, but what succor could be offered to one who had already acquitted the minotaur of its crimes of brutal murder before they had yet come to pass?

"Melite, I am worried, for I feel but a weak pulse in your wrist. How may I help you?" Hesione asked.

Melite sought to waylay Hesione's anxiety. "You have no cause for apprehension, for no grudge weighs on my shoulder nor does any ill will darken my brow. My mind is unclouded, Hesione. There is no reason to fear for me. Find another upon whom your tender concern will be better spent."

The two maidens laughed then at the extent of their attempts to provide comfort to each other. When the world ends, such gestures of kindness shall prove more valuable than ingots of gold. In the meantime, these treasures can be bandied about between friends as if they were baubles of no consequence.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Let's Name It Light (Heartfast, HFCD 013, 2012, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 8, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

The courage of Periboea and the imagination of Antimachus combined to make a volatile mixture. It was not enough to weaken a few structural beams within the mine in order to induce a cave-in upon the head of the minotaur. Nor did it suffice to challenge the beast to single-handed combat in the manner of gladiators in an arena. No, together these two conspirators dreamt up great dramas involving the confrontation and subjugation of the beast. In some scenarios the aid of the supernatural was invoked. In others, they relied upon their own strengths.

Each time Periboea encountered Antimachus in the labyrinth, he seemed to have conjured a new variation of his daydream. Each iteration seemed more fantastic than the last. Although cowardice did not tempt Periboea to shy away from the task at hand, she nevertheless began to perceive the improbability of the scenes, which Antimachus described to her. "Are you making fun of me?" she once asked him. "Because I am serious about defeating the minotaur."

Called out in this way, Antimachus was hurt. The next time he met Periboea, his fantasy had taken a darker turn. He still challenged the beast but, mortally wounded, he expired before he had definitive confirmation that the minotaur had been slain. "It crawled back into shadow," he explained, "leaving behind a copious trail of blood, which trickled down a rocky slope until it mingled in a pool of my own blood."

Thereafter, Periboea resolved to impose no constraints of her own making upon the dreams of Antimachus. The earth in which they were entombed provided pressure enough without her aid.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Dazzling, Mischievous Prayer (Heartfast, HFCD 014, 2012, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 9, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Andromache waited. She was accustomed to waiting, having practiced the activity for much of her life. When she had dwelt in the home of her parents, she had bided her time, while her mother and father made decisions for her--which instruments she should learn to play, where she should go to school, what subjects she should study, who she might entertain as a potential suitor. In the labyrinth, Andromache waited for a different sort of outcome--which among her compatriots, trapped within the maze, would next appear or if the minotaur would finally arrive to accomplish the deed for which he had been born.

Porphyrion was a young man keen to delight in whatever situation presented itself. Still, coming upon her crouching in a narrow crevice, he thought it reasonable to encourage Andromache to act while she still had time to act.

"I wish," said Andromache in response, "that I had my flute."

Porphyrion nodded. For a while, the pair simply imagined the echoes of the instrument carrying eerily through the tunnels of the mine. This sonic fantasy appealed to them and possessed none of the risk of actual music in attracting the minotaur, or so they supposed.

"You know, Porphyrion, there is another kind of waiting," Andromache confided, "in which the exercise of patience is not merely a dissipation of opportunity, but rather a nurturing of a sentiment that is not yet ready to bloom in someone whom you have come to love."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Please don't name it. If you name it, it will cease to become all. (Heartfast, HFCD 016, 2013, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 10, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

As Amphidocus wandered through the labyrinth, he was cognizant of the fact that his purpose was muddled. To survive was not a sufficiently meaningful purpose for a man, only a brute animal. Beyond survival, Amphidocus supposed another goal should be adopted, though one did not immediately spring to mind. Given the present state of affairs, it seemed unlikely that the ordinarily laudable goals of family life or civic duty or some work in the service of social amelioration would prove fruitful. Therefore, Amphidocus entertained other possibilities.

When the youth stumbled into a friend, he abruptly asked him, "Menestheus, what keeps you going in these dark caves?"

Menestheus for his part was a gentle soul. It would not be a tremendous exaggeration to apply to him the adage, "He was a man not made for this world." He intuitively sensed the implacable absence that drove Amphidocus to search for a framework in which he could come to favorable terms with the circumstances of his existence. Menestheus draped an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Amphidocus," he said, "I am sure that your purpose will come to you in good time. If it hasn't appeared yet, it is likely because you are not yet ready to receive it."

Menestheus continued, "In the meantime, mere survival must suffice. Remain vigilant. Deny the minotaur the sating of his appetite. If the actualization of your purpose materializes in a fleeting moment, you must be able and ready to seize it."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Now, while it's still warm, let's pour in every mystery (Heartfast, HFCD 017, 2013, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 11, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

Having grown up in the company of the sea, Eurymedusa often swam with her girlfriends on hot afternoons. A favorite stretch of beach, located in a small cove surrounded by unscalable cliffs, could only be reached by water. The desire to access that idyllic spot motivated the young girls to become competent swimmers. In the happiness of that sanctuary, Eurymedusa had passed many innocent days.

When she discovered that a portion of the mine was flooded, she was tempted to swim in the underground lake. She had initially dipped a bare foot in the water and discovered the temperature much too cool for her liking. Later, she found refuge in the exercise of swimming despite the chill. In this way, she also discovered a shallow niche at the end of the lake, backed by overhanging stone, accessible only by swimming. Though the stone floor was raised barely an inch above the level of the lake, in the absence of tides and waves, the niche remained dry. This spot, and others like it, which she was to come upon later, became the favored roosts of Eurymedusa.

This hiding place was revealed to Andromache by accident. She had sung at the edge of the lake, prompting a voice from across the water to compliment her. "Eurymedusa?" Andromache called and received confirmation. Once it was established that, if Andromache wished to join Eurymedusa in her refuge, she would have to brave the cold, dark waters, they remained separated. Their conversations carried across the water and echoed between the stalactites descending from the high cavern ceiling. Each word hung in the air as Andromache asked, "Are you safe from the minotaur there?"

"Hmm," replied Eurymedusa, considering the question. "Not especially. I suppose the bull can swim. But, I shall hear it coming in the water. Perhaps that brief warning shall prove sufficient to allow me to elude it."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha & Peter Brötzmann - Nothing Changes. No One Can Change Anything. I Am Ever-Changing. Only You Can Change Yourself. disc 1 (Utech Records, URCD087, 2014 (originally recorded 1996), United States, cdx3, discogs.com)

January 12, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

For most, reading the hearts of men and women is a difficult task. We may be able to assemble a reasonable estimate of their character based on extended exposure to their words and actions. As the amount of evidence available to us is reduced, our depiction of an individual becomes increasingly subject to error. Following this logic, one might then conclude that judging someone on a single outburst or action makes for the epitome of an unreliable portrait. However, people often take it one step further and form opinions of others without any basis for judgment whatsoever. In the complete dearth of data, the opinion one forms of another is indeed more a reflection of the viewer than the viewed.

It is hard to describe Demoleon, as he sits alone in the darkness of a dead-end tunnel. Does his inactivity stem from a brooding nature? Or, rather, does Demoleon contemplate some noble purpose concerning the welfare of his fellow prisoners? If approached on the subject, he is reticent to speak.

Amphidocus tended to give others the benefit of the doubt. Therefore, when he discovered Demoleon in the darkness and received but a passing word of greeting in response to his repeated entreaties, Amphidocus did not immediately suspect him of succumbing to a morbid fatalism. Instead, he opened a line of questioning, which could be construed as a suspicion that Demoleon had been paralyzed by an excess of virtue. To be sure, an individual subject to this condition is no less afflicted by a malady than if they suffered the plague. But paralysis by virtue is a malady with high-minded origins! Its remedy requires only teasing out one virtue, which disturbs the precarious balance that has resulted in stasis, and allows them all to come tumbling forth.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha & Peter Brötzmann - Nothing Changes. No One Can Change Anything. I Am Ever-Changing. Only You Can Change Yourself. disc 2 (Utech Records, URCD087, 2014 (originally recorded 1996), United States, cdx3, discogs.com)

January 13, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Europe doubted that she was actually in an abandoned mine on the island of Crete and that such a site had been repurposed as a prison for the minotaur. She supposed, rather, that, against her will, she had been enlisted with the other thirteen in an elaborate ruse, intended to convince the populace of Crete that their government engaged in programs, which provided them some benefit. That a general holiday had been announced on the day of their delivery into the mine only reinforced her belief.

As for the minotaur itself, Europe, like you and I, was steadfast in her conviction that such an amalgamation of man and bull existed only in the realms of myth. She was determined to investigate the details of her incarceration within the mine and reveal the entire scheme for the fraud she knew it to be.

"Europe," Eurymedusa called to her from her shelf by the underground lake, "have you not heard the snorting of the beast or the thud of its cloven hooves as it lumbers through a nearby cavern?"

"These intimations I have heard," Europe admitted.

"Have you not smelled the acrid stench of its body lingering in the stale air?"

"I have," Europe admitted again.

"Have you not trembled at the thought of what the beast shall do if it corners you alone at the end of a dark passage?"

"Dear Eurymedusa," replied Europe. "This last I have not done. I have not trembled for my doubt overweighs my fear. I should need to observe it with my own eyes and feel its hot breath moisten my face and run my hands over the rippling muscles of its back ere I come to believe the minotaur is a thing from which I should cower."

"What else could it be?" Eurymedusa asked.

"A trick intended to confuse, perpetrated by those, mortal or otherwise, who would steal from us the desire to choose our own destiny."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha & Peter Brötzmann - Nothing Changes. No One Can Change Anything. I Am Ever-Changing. Only You Can Change Yourself. disc 3 (Utech Records, URCD087, 2014 (originally recorded 1996), United States, cdx3, discogs.com)

January 14, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

The two youths met at a time that corresponded to the early morning, though in the subterranean domain, they had no way of knowing that the dawn was upon them. One of them, Porphyrion, had arisen with a sensation of unbridled optimism. There was no explaining it, just as "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" is itself the explanation for the opposite experience. He shared this feeling with the other young man, saying, "Demoleon, I have a good feeling about today. Something fortuitous is going to happen."

"Excellent!" replied Demoleon. If he felt any doubt regarding the likelihood that Porphyrion's prognostication would come to pass, he was careful not to show it. "We are due a turn of good luck."

So off they went, side by side, until the twists and turns of the labyrinth separated them. Even then they did not despair for they individually carried with them a hope kindled by Porphyrion's auspicious words.

Of course, countless centuries have transpired since the passing of Porphyrion and Demoleon and their compatriots. Whatever occurred to them on that day has long since been settled, even if it remains unrecorded. What good luck could have befallen either of them that day, since it did not result in release from the mines? We have an idea, which we shall share now, though it is only conjecture. We suppose that the mere suggestion of good fortune was enough to illuminate the darkness of the caves for the remainder of the day. That the pervasive gloom was diminished, if not banished, for a spell is itself a minor triumph, worthy of modest praise.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Purple Trap: The Wound That Was Given Birth To Must Be Bigger Than The Wound That Gave Birth, disc 1 (Blast First, BFFP 124, 1996, United Kingdom, cdx2, discogs.com)

January 15, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

It can be difficult to conduct oneself with compassion, if one expects one's own future to be absent of compassion. Thus, in some circumstances, the display of empathy requires an obstinate, willful resolve. Of course, there are others, like Menestheus, to whom compassion came as naturally as the morning song comes to birds in the hour before dawn. Rounding a corner in the tunnel, Menestheus espied the shadowy form of a young woman a dozen paces down the passage. He greeted her cheerfully, though he had not yet identified which of the seven maidens she might be.

"By what reasoning," Europe asked him, "do you choose to remain so good-natured, while imprisoned in this dungeon?"

Menestheus spoke truly for he had no desire to deceive Europe. "It's just my nature," he replied. "I can find no better explanation."

Europe smiled at the young man. For her part, she could not decide whether she considered Menestheus a fool or a genius. Her gesture of kindness seemed not to travel well through the unlit corridor that stretched between them. She added, "I have become convinced that the minotaur is just a figment of our collective imagination." She thought these words might provide additional comfort, but his answer surprised her.

"It matters not," declared Menestheus. "My course of action is set. I shall love without reservation. Those, man or beast, who treat me in an unlike manner shall not have my condemnation for they suffer enough at their own hand."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Purple Trap: The Wound That Was Given Birth To Must Be Bigger Than The Wound That Gave Birth, disc 2 (Blast First, BFFP 124, 1996, United Kingdom, cdx2, discogs.com)

January 16, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

In the pursuit of a dignified life for all, Melanippe accepted that there would be failures, perhaps more than occasionally. The world seemed to be constructed in such a way that it did not naturally encourage dignity. Therefore, if she lowered her guard even momentarily, the reasonable reaction was to slide backward, away from the idealization of herself. Melanippe conceded that there were individuals to whom this generalization did not apply, those rare few who automatically erred on the side of dignity, but they were surely the exception to the rule. Nevertheless, Melanippe strove to be counted among their number, though she feared that if she forgot how natural it was to fail, she would cease to become useful to those who most needed her.

Fortunately, in the desperate gloom of the labyrinth, failure could be found in abundance. While each of her fellow prisoners embodied some element of virtue, they were intrinsically fallible. No more explanation than the limits of the human character is necessary. Still, we shall attribute, in part, their lapses in judgment to stress resulting from the sustained threat of the minotaur.

It fell to Demoleon, he who most ardently sought the apex of virtue, to alternately plumb the depths of turpitude. We shall not grant new life to the wicked words he whispered to Melanippe in the tortuous channels of the labyrinth. Instead, we shall heed Melanippe's advice. Let those ill words be forgotten. In this way, a grudge does not form and Melanippe's grand design remains a plausible alternative.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - I Saw It! That Which Before I Could Only Sense, disc 1 (Paratactile, PLE 1106/07-2, 2000, United Kingdom, cdx2, discogs.com)

January 17, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Idas, the young man, and Europe, the maiden, usually enjoyed those occasions when their paths crossed in the labyrinth, though not because they especially liked each other. Rather, they were drawn to the conversation that took place and which prompted them at the moment as well as later, after a period of rumination, to explore new trains of thought.

We find the pair at a three-way junction in the mine, verbally sparring with each other. "I would like to ask the minotaur its position on the issue of self-determination," Idas said to Europe. He folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to convey by gesture the gravity of his question.

Not to be outdone, Europe rested her hands resolutely on her hips. "The minotaur has no position," she countered, "because it does not exist. How can a creature, which resides only in the minds of others, worry about whether it controls its own fate? What nonsense!"

Idas' arms fell to his sides. "Please, Europe, don't say such things. Sometimes, I worry that I exist only in the imagination of another, a narrative that unfolds due to forces entirely beyond my control. If you condemn the minotaur to powerlessness, how can I escape the same judgment?"

Perhaps Europe succumbed to a passing moment of indolence, for she did not rigorously parry Idas' assertion. Instead, she continued to glare at him. "How tedious the mind of the one who has dreamt the fantasy in which you, wandering the mine, find it imperative to waylay me with your self-doubt."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - I Saw It! That Which Before I Could Only Sense, disc 2 (Paratactile, PLE 1106/07-2, 2000, United Kingdom, cdx2, discogs.com)

January 18, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Hesione came upon Porphyrion, the youngest of their number, in the darkness. She thought of him as the baby in their family within the labyrinth. He was curled up in a ball, lying on his side in the middle of the stone passage. Hesione would likely have stumbled over him had she not been alerted to his presence by the echoes of his faint sobs.

She knelt beside him and rested one hand on his shoulder. The fingers of her other hand she laid against the side of his face. The first words that came to her were the query, "Porphyrion, what distresses you so?" She found herself unable to voice that question for the answer seemed self-evident for one who had been delivered, against his will, to a mine, where there was every expectation that he should succumb to the violent appetite of the beast dwelling therein.

After some reflection, Hesione decided to ask anyway, for there is no separation of sorrow from the world and to act otherwise seemed foolish to her. "Little brother, why do you cry?"

Of course, her words invited no sensible response, other than a renewed deluge of tears. Offering the comfort of her presence, Hesione remained by his side until his sobs subsided. Eventually, Porphyrion pushed himself to a sitting position. He leaned over and awkwardly hugged Hesione, his face wet against her neck. Then he rose to his feet and wandered off again into the darkness. This is the way of sorrow in the world; it arrives with no special justification and it does not follow a path of reason.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Withdrawe, This Sable Disclosure Ere Devot'd (Les Disques Victo, VICTO CD 060, 1998, Canada, cd, discogs.com)

January 19, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

Antimachus found Menestheus crouching at a point where one side of the tunnel wall had collapsed. He seemed to be sifting through the rubble. Because of the partial blockage, Antimachus could not pass without Menestheus moving aside. Consequently, Antimachus stood at a short distance and observed the other young man. Menestheus seemed to be sorting relatively flat stones and stacking them right in the middle of the path.

Any individual who spends time frequenting well-traveled trails in the mountains has likely encountered similar stacks of rock, positioned at the edge of the trail or on the bank of creek. They serve as miniature shrines to the local god of the forest, or the mountain, or the stream or an especially ancient tree in the vicinity. In some places, it is the tradition that so-inclined visitors incrementally add a stone to the stack, as a sign of their respect. Such monuments become a kind of visitor's log and are, by construction, unstable and impermanent.

"Menestheus, why do you build a shrine in the house of the minotaur?"

Menestheus looked up, as if had been unaware of the arrival of Antimachus. "Ah!" His attention returned to the stones. "Is that what I am doing? It matters not. In the darkness, the first to squeeze through this gap--whether it is one of us or the beast--will topple the stones in the darkness."

Antimachus was hardly listening. His thoughts had run away with the notion of the shrine, a vessel designed to invoke and channel prayer. He himself was not well-practiced at praying but he possessed a grand imagination. He knelt beside Menestheus, who continued to filter through the gravel and dust. Following the example of the ancients, Antimachus silently prayed beside the growing shrine, beseeching the powers that be to grant these stones whatever gift it is that stones most desire.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Soul's True Love, disc 4 (Purple Trap, PT 004, 1995 (originally recorded early 1970's), Japan, cdx4+box, discogs.com)

January 20, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

When Melite first detected the notes of a girl singing, she knew immediately that the song belonged to Andromache. It was true that many of them had an appreciation for music, but only Andromache proved unwilling to abandon it, despite the keen ears of the minotaur. Melite moved in that direction, following the echoes of the voice as they winded through the stone corridors. She did not make haste. It was too easy to stumble if she hurried in the darkness. Besides, she was enjoying the untroubled notes of Andromache; Melite knew that when she found the other girl, she would be obliged to admonish her to cease her singing, for her own safety.

Andromache had positioned herself at a point in an expansive cavern where the natural acoustics of the chamber amplified her voice and sent it resonating through-out the maze. Thus, when the tunnel deposited Melite in Andromache's presence, she found herself enveloped in song. She quickly succumbed to its allure and abandoned any pretext of silencing her friend.

Perhaps through a disturbance in the path of the soundwaves, Andromache detected the arrival of Melite, though she had entered the cavern behind her. Finishing her song, Andromache spoke across the dark, empty space between them, "When are we going to find our way out of this maze?" There was a desperate impatience in her speaking voice that had been absent in her song.

"Soon enough, soon enough," promised Melite, though her words offered nothing more than temporary kindness. "There is more than one way to leave the labyrinth," she reminded her friend. "You may find your exit earlier than you think."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Gold Blood (Charnel Music, CHCD-30, 1998, United States, cd, discogs.com)

January 21, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

After Periboea had described her most recently hatched scheme to slay the minotaur to Amphidocus, she awaited his response, hoping he might find some flaw in her plan and thereby allow her to improve it. Amphidocus felt himself playing the role of the hapless passer-by, who had been lassoed into providing an audience for a performance in which he had no real interest. He nevertheless opted to participate, for he understood his situation well. There were only a finite number of them trapped in the labyrinth; it would not serve him to alienate any of the others, lest, at some future date, his pleas for help fall upon deaf ears. Therefore, he replied to Periboea, somewhat facetiously, "Only one garrote? Why not two?"

So focused was Periboea on analyzing her plan that she did not perceive the question for what it was. "This sort of thing usually only takes one," she mused aloud. "Still, it is a large bull. It might call for unprecedented measures." She paused, attempting to visualize the implementation of a plan in which two stranglers struck in tight coordination. It occurred to her that Amphidocus' suggestion could be shrewd, because one cord, as it descended, might be sheared by the sharp point of one of the minotaur's horns.

Amphidocus said nothing else during this exchange. He attempted to convey by his posture that he was disinclined to attack the beast. In this mood, he could not imagine why anyone would want to do so. All this was lost on Periboea. We can attribute her being oblivious to Amphidocus' attitude to one of several factors: her courageous dedication to a noble cause, her vengeful preoccupation with a blood feud, or the general darkness in which she was immersed.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Live at Freedommune 0 (Zero) A New Zero 2012 (Dommune, no catalog number, 2013, Japan, digital files, discogs.com)

January 22, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Drawn by the sounds of splashing, Hippophorbas approached the edge of the lake. It was too dark to visually discern what creature disturbed the water but, given the present locale, we can forgive him for jumping to the conclusion that a giant, subterranean serpent called these depths its home. Thinking himself alone with a bestial incarnation of nature's destructive impulses, he called out, "Snake of the lake, have you formed an alliance with the minotaur?"

Eurymedusa, swimming well away from the bank, thought this a most curious question. Playfully, she replied, "The minotaur is the lord of the labyrinth. Whom else should I serve?"

Hippophorbas had not expected the serpent to speak with the demure voice of a maiden, but finding it so seemed only to emphasize the danger the beast presented to him. It possessed cunning to match the strength of its coils.

With the intention of revealing her trick, Eurymedusa swam toward the bank upon which Hippophorbas stood.

Hearing the beast approach, Hippophorbas cried out in fear, "O scaled monster of these cold depths, spare me your fatal embrace! I am but a wayward soul lost in this infernal maze. If it is your object to inflict upon me the greater harm, you shall allow me to resume my pointless wandering."

Eurymedusa was taken aback by these words. No longer inclined to reveal herself, lest she embarrass Hippophorbas, she glided back to her stone shelf on the far side of the lake.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Origin's Hesitation (P.S.F. Records, PSFD-8010, 2001, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 23, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Amphidocus discovered the wooden haft of a tool, perhaps a pick-axe, with the metal head missing. Splintered and cracked, the handle must have broken in use and been discarded by the miner, working these veins when the mines had more to offer than death by minotaur. Upon the arrival of Antimachus, Amphidocus passed the object to him. "It seems weird to find a sign that there were workers within these caves who extracted copper and lead and gold when they found it. They had an unambiguous purpose." The implication of their present, contrasting situation was obvious. Still, Antimachus did not take the bait, so Amphidocus was forced to ask, "What is your purpose?"

On a daily basis Antimachus dreamt of slaying the minotaur. There could be little doubt that his purpose was either to dream or to slay. Yet, on this day, he was not predisposed to yield this simple, binary answer. Instead, he contemptuously tossed the wooden haft to the ground. "Amphidocus," he said, "do not plague me with your eternal questions, lest you force me to admit to an ignominious fate."

"Whatever do you mean?" Amphidocus persisted. "Why prematurely eliminate the possibility of a glorious destiny?"

"Even in pursuit of honor and renown," Antimachus replied, "are there not days when one must merely mete out a bare existence, accomplishing nothing more than holding one's ground?"

Amphidocus considered the words for an extended time, a commodity which seemed, in the absence of the minotaur, available in excess. "I suppose that you are right, Antimachus, but I caution you against allowing the gaps between the moments of glory, however long they may stretch, to define your greater purpose."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - It Was Eternity That Reached Out First (P.S.F. Records, PSFD-8016, 2003 (originally recorded in 1978), Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 24, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

In the course of her time in the maze, Eurymedusa discovered that the labyrinth extended underwater. From the bottom of the lake stretched passages, some natural and some hewn by men at a time before the chamber flooded. Eurymedusa acknowledged that exploring the submerged passages was exceedingly dangerous. The maze was designed to confuse and disorient those within it. Should she lose her bearings in one of those tunnels, she would most assuredly drown. Still, she entertained the thought because there was danger also in remaining where she was. It seemed prudent to discover a means of escape accessible only to her, assuming the minotaur would not dare follow her. So she gradually explored the passages and truly it tested her skills as a swimmer. More than once, a fleeting moment of panic coursed through her. Her survival hinged on her ability to reclaim her calm and retrace her path. Her perseverance was rewarded when she discovered a tunnel that connected the lake to another part of the labyrinth. Emerging in this cavern, she quickly realized it was not a dead end for she was hailed by Melite, standing beside the small pool just a few feet from her.

"So, Eurymedusa," said Melite, "you have discovered ways to move through the maze that only you can travel." One could not dismiss the implied accusation in her words. "Will you use your private routes to flee to safety when the rest of us cannot?"

Eurymedusa would have liked to clarify that abandoning the others was not her intent. Each had to find their own way in the maze. Not all would take the same paths. She was unable to explain herself to Melite for, as she formulated the reply, the other girl stalked out of the chamber.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - The Caution Appears (Les Disques Du Soleil Et De L'Acier, CDSA 54039, 1995, France, cd, discogs.com)

January 25, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Demoleon worked to fight off the oppressive effects of the ceaseless darkness. The act of maintaining a positive outlook despite the present conditions possessed its own virtue but required an active vigilance that sapped his energy, which could otherwise have been spent on actions that more directly benefited others. Still, the keeping of an optimistic attitude was not entirely bereft of altruism.

Demoleon found Periboea the brave in a moment where her courage seemed to have abandoned her. She peered over her shoulder nervously, sure that the minotaur was about to spring upon her, its sharp claws tearing through her flesh like so much crepe paper. In this state, she did not immediately appreciate Demoleon's presence.

Perceiving her distress, he spoke reassuring words to her, saying, "Often is it said that doubt is essential for faith. One who does not know doubt cannot truly believe. An automaton programmed only to believe cannot be said to possess faith, since no alternative is available to it." He cast a tender expression toward Periboea. "No less true is this of courage. A woman cannot be called 'the brave' if she is incapable of fear. To show courage requires a moment like this, sometimes many moments, crouching in the darkness, afraid for all the world of a horror lurking in the shadows."

Demoleon meant these words as a kindness, though Periboea chose not to express her gratitude at that time, opting instead to flee madly down the crooked tunnel.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Fushitsusha - Unheard Pieces Of The Late XX^th & Early XXI^st Centuries (Delashiné! / Les Presses Du Réel, no catalog number, 2017 (originally recorded 1990, 2001 & 2002), France, cd+book, discogs.com)

January 26, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

In her determination to find a means of egress from the labyrinth, Europe began probing the depths of branches of the tunnels that were ostensibly dead ends. Where cave-ins had occurred, she shifted rubble from the top of the pile in an attempt to discern whether she could reopen even a gap through which fresh air might greet her. If such a circumstance occurred, she thought to enlist the aid of the others to widen the opening, at worst gaining them access to another section of the labyrinth, perhaps closer to the surface. The work required her to get dirty. On her hand and knees she scrambled up rock slides composed of immovable boulders and unsteady rocks. With each misstep a cascade of gravel fell beneath her. Reaching the ceiling of the chamber, she paused to catch her breath. She reached into the space where the rock slide and the cavern seemed to meet and dislodged a stone, sending it scattering down the slope. Her efforts revealed a small niche. She leaned closer and sniffed, searching for new air. However, it was difficult to prevent her mind from playing tricks on her. Did she detect a whiff of fresh air or was it just her hopeful imagination? Engaged in this internal debate, she heard a voice call out to her from the base of the pile.

"Europe, don't make so much noise or you will summon the minotaur," Hippophorbas whispered with just enough volume to carry his message.

Europe did not deign to whisper. "How many times do I have to tell you, there is no minotaur! The only threat in this maze is that which we present ourselves."

To be clear, Hippophorbas only partially agreed with Europe, as he walked away. Of the existence of the minotaur, he had no doubt. On the opinion that the clamor of Europe's excavation should prove a threat to herself he was in decided accord.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha & Keiji Haino - A Document Film of Keiji Haino (Purple Trap, PT 002, 2012, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 27, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

Porphyrion awoke with great joy in his heart. Let us not seek to penetrate his innermost thoughts in an attempt to justify his exultation. We must be satisfied with the understanding that some individuals are simply predisposed to joy, based on an auspicious balance of biochemicals in their organs, especially the hypothalamus, the pituitary and the adrenal gland. Tracing the matter further to genetic heritage or divine favor is beyond the scope of our admittedly limited capabilities.

"Good morning, Melanippe," Porphyrion greeted the maiden when their paths crossed.

She did not respond to the cheer in his voice. She was scratching a rock upon the surface of a wall, evidently in an attempt to inscribe a mark into the stone.

"What are you doing?" Porphyrion asked.

Her reply was curt. "Mapping the labyrinth."

Porphyrion considered her actions. "If you mark each space where it stands, your map will be the same size as the labyrinth it seeks to describe."

Melanippe paused in her exertion and glanced over her shoulder. "If you have parchment and ink to lend me, I will render a more conventional map."

Porphyrion was invulnerable but not oblivious to her irritation. After his offer to aid Melanippe in her endeavor was rejected, he let her be. The idea of a life-sized map overlaid upon the original seemed to him both an absurd and a wonderful idea.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Live I, disc 1 (P.S.F. Records, PSF-3/4, 1989, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 28, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

It is an essential element in the evolution of a species that there are dead ends. Such is the case for any process based on trial and error, whether guided or unguided. It is important to keep in mind that those among us whose genes will not be propagated into the next generation are nevertheless an indispensable component of humanity. Those who do procreate would not exist outside a process that produces the broad distribution of abilities and interests within the species. So it was with Menestheus, a youth not made for this world, a young man, who by his gentle nature, found anathema the notion that his people should advance upon the principle of the survival of the strong at the expense of the weak. "Count me among the weak," he had argued with this teachers at the academy. If he held to this argument, he was told, he would be lost to extinction along with his unproductive philosophy.

The minotaur, however, was not a product of any evolutionary process. There was no half-bovine, half-primate precursor to warn others of the monstrosity about to appear in their midst. It, too, was not made for this world, though in an entirely different way than Menestheus.

Idas approached Menestheus and was treated to a soliloquy on the irony of the curious estrangement, which he shared with the minotaur. Idas waited until Menestheus had completely expressed his thoughts, before releasing an indifferent shrug. "You will and come and go unnoticed. To those who follow, it will be as if you never existed."

Menestheus, for his part, was not dissuaded by these harsh words. He intended to focus his efforts on the present, rather than the future.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Live I, disc 2 (P.S.F. Records, PSF-3/4, 1989, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 29, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

The beast in its rage left its mark on the labyrinth. In places the stone walls were scored by deep indentations of its horns. To suggest that the minotaur marked passages in the maze as a means of navigation is absurd; the mine was part of the beast and its passage through it second nature. These brute inscriptions served more likely as proof of ownership. However, certain chambers, possessing fragile crystal growths of incredible delicacy and beauty, the minotaur left undisturbed, though we are hesitant to impart to it any sense of esthetic appreciation.

In a cavern decorated with columns as well as stalactites and stalagmites not yet joined, no vandalism of the minotaur was present save a great stalagmite from which the point had been broken off. It now appeared as a pedestal four feet high and two in diameter. Mounting this plinth, the minotaur would roar, its furious bellows echoing through the tunnels of the mine. Finding the platform unoccupied, Andromache perched and blew upon her flute, filling the mine not with rage but an unmistakably wistful sentiment.

The music drew Hesione to Andromache. "Little sister," she said, "do not play such lovely music. What heart is there in forcing your melody to traverse these doomed passages?"

Andromache heard the words of Hesione but did not obey them. To stifle beauty for the sake of the surrounding ugliness seemed to her sensibilities unwise.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - 1991.9.26 19:15-20:08 (P.S.F. Records, PSFV-1, 1992, Japan, vhs, discogs.com)

January 30, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Idas approached a sharp turn in the passage. The labyrinth was filled with all manner of such angled bends and intersections, so nothing struck Idas as out of the ordinary. However, as he was about to turn the corner, he heard a sound that caused him to freeze in his steps. There was someone or something breathing just out of sight. It did not resemble the ragged breathing of the minotaur, but Idas supposed that the beast could control its breath somewhat when it stalked its prey. He flattened himself against the cold, damp stone. There, despite the grave risk, Idas could not contain his curiosity. While he was unwilling to poke his head around the corner, he whispered, "Who's there?" No reply met his query. Even the volume and spacing of the inhalation and exhalation seemed unaffected. "If it is you, O terrible minotaur," continued Idas in a low tone, "I wonder what restrains your impulse to leap from the shadow and devour me. What is the nature of the machinations that govern your behavior? Does there reside within your being a remnant of human sentiment?"

Fortunately, the creature upon whose breathing Idas eavesdropped was none other than the maiden, Hesione. However, at that moment she was trapped in her own miasma of the labyrinth and proved unwilling to either respond to Idas or to reveal herself. She listened to Idas bare his soul ostensibly to the minotaur. Eventually, she had her fill of his secrets and quietly wandered back the way she had come.

By the time Idas worked up the courage to round the corner, he found no one there at all. In fact, he later came to the conclusion that the breathing, which had troubled him so, had been merely a figment of his fearful imagination.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Live II, disc 1 (P.S.F. Records, PSF-15/16, 1991, Japan, cd, discogs.com)

January 31, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

As she wandered through the darkness of the labyrinth, Hesione reconsidered the fundamental premise underlying the proposition that their best chance of eluding the minotaur lay in splitting up. On this day, there seemed to her little purpose in prolonged survival if it meant a perpetual isolation in the gloom of the maze, interrupted only by sporadic encounters. It seemed far better to gather and enjoy each other's company even if it increased the risk of attracting the attention of the beast. Such are the thoughts a maiden may harbor when she has dwelt in solitude a long while.

Antimachus, the dreamer, came upon Hesione in just such a pensive mood. "Little brother," she said to him, as was her usual greeting. "Have you slain the minotaur?"

"Not yet," Antimachus replied listlessly.

It appeared as if he might depart as abruptly as he had arrived. In order to delay the return of her loneliness, Hesione asked him, "How are you currently thinking of conquering the monster?" She knew he often dreamt of such triumphs, placing himself in the grand role of victorious warrior.

However, today, Antimachus seemed unwilling to engage Hesione. He shrugged. "I think I shall allow him to succumb to the ennui which permeates this stone prison and expire of his own volition."

Hesione shared a tentative, smirking frown. "How long will that take?"

"A long time, invariably," he admitted.

"Will we outlast it?"

Antimachus nodded, thinking that he understood the unspoken implication of her question. "It depends," he answered, "on how committed each of us is to a battle of attrition."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - Live II, disc 2 (P.S.F. Records, PSF-15/16, 1991, Japan, cd, discogs.com)