The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

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

June

June 1, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Menestheus was a gentle soul. He exercised violence of words or deeds against neither man, nor woman nor beast. Born to a kind nature, this way of living came instinctively to him. However, Menestheus was a member of the human race, a species to whom atrocities too terrible to be attempted by any other, could rightly be attributed. Worse yet, the barbarity of civilization was not relegated to history but persisted unabated in contemporary times. Thus, gentle though he was, Menestheus shared in the culpability of his species.

It could be rightly said that men, in their quest for silver rings, copper bells and lead coins, had hewn this labyrinthine mine into the Earth. Encountering the minotaur, men had declared it grotesque and greeted it with torches and spears, transforming the beast into a misanthrope in their own image. Men, indeed a king among men, had ordered the sacrifice of seven youths and seven maidens to satisfy the appetite of the minotaur now confined to its underground maze.

While Menestheus could claim no great role in these events, he could not entirely disown them. He shared this sentiment with Porphyrion, who listened without interruption. When Menestheus had spoken his piece, Porphyrion replied, "Some may say that such an attitude is unproductive, but I would disagree. Your perspective imbues each of your subsequent efforts as a potential act of personal and communal redemption."

written while listening to:  Free Music Society - unreleased live recording, track 1 (February 21, 1978, Gaya, Hatsudai, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 2, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

Andromache sang in the darkness. Her voice echoed through the channels of the labyrinth. Where a shaft led deeper underground, the low notes descended. There was, however, no avenue for high notes to reach the surface. The labyrinth had been sealed, immediately after their forced entrance. In their initial confusion, none had thought to mark the spot, so those trapped within the maze had no means to locate their point of entry, if they had so chosen. It mattered not to the song of Andromache, which was content to explore the subterranean darkness. Each time a sound wave from her voice reverberated off a stone wall, it lost some energy, until finally it dissipated entirely amidst the friction of the damp air. Of course, this was the only way it could be. The alternative--to have each note repeated endlessly--would have resulted in a deafening cacophony with which all future songs could not compete.

Andromache changed the tone of her song when Menestheus approached. For him, she offered a song that she supposed would please him, soft and free of disharmony, easily agreeable to the ear. She was not disappointed; In Menestheus, she found no pretense or dissembling. He paused in his wandering to luxuriate, to the extent that such an act was possible during their incarceration, in Andromache's song.

This was it then, the entire value of that moment. One offered evanescent comfort and another accepted. There was no further purpose or meaning. All worth of the song was inextricably linked to its ephemeral nature. It is a mis-application of apophenia to seek additional meaning in an interaction such as this.

written while listening to:  Vibration Society - unreleased live recording, track 1 (August 23, 1978, unknown venue, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 3, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

Sometimes we are faced with choices between right and wrong, where the moral superiority of one alternative is plainly evident, even if we are reluctant to choose it. Dwelling in the labyrinth, Amphidocus could readily imagine such a choice. He would not seek a reprieve from the predation of the minotaur at the expense of the safety of one of his companions. Often we have before us a string of decisions in which there is either no moral dilemma or we do not perceive the choice in this light. In this category, Amphidocus placed such weighty matters as where to go in the subterranean trap that was the labyrinth. Turning right or left when the maze prohibited him from going forward seemed free of any consequence that fell within his ability to predict. Sometimes a hundred different options seemed viable, with potential advantages and dangers impossible to gauge.

When Amphidocus crossed paths with Andromache, he shared his recent train of thought with her. "Folks spend so much time promoting and arguing one course over another, when much of the time, they seem equally acceptable, differing only in detail."

Andromache nodded. "That's why I think of life as a song," she said, "for when I play music, there are always many notes and directions to choose from as the song unfurls. My choices make a difference in the texture of the music, but it isn't as if one melody was right and every other wrong." She smiled sweetly at Amphidocus, before adding, "Although it seems that you can always find a stubborn listener who will insist otherwise."

written while listening to:  Vibration Society with members of the East Bionic Symphonia - unreleased live recording, track 1 (unknown date, 1978, Minor, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 4, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion:Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

A character trait of increasing importance in this world is the ability to get along well with others. This quality is less an active role than a passive stance, in which one accommodates the actions and perspectives of others. This characteristic is not especially valued since it cannot be demonstrated, as can strength in a feat of athleticism or intelligence in an academic exam or creativity in an artistic work. Nevertheless, this attribute is responsible for holding families together. Every family that manages to remain a single unit can identify at least one member among them who relates to each individual and, in doing so, acts as the glue that binds them. Often, though not always, it is the wife and mother who serves in this role.

For those to whom this quality does not come naturally, there are fewer and fewer positions within society. Such individuals gradually migrate to the margins, where they manage as best they are able to balance their need for community with their idiosyncratic and sometimes abrasive personality. We can view Eurymedusa in this light. She chose to reside in a cold, subterranean lake, rather than walk the corridors of the labyrinth as did her fellows.

In truth, it seems that Eurymedusa had known her own measure well and chosen a dwelling appropriately. When the labyrinth delivered Amphidocus to the stone bank of the lake, he was pleased to greet her and, for all appearances, she him. Her occupancy of a remote outpost on the edge of human habitation seemed to reassure him that, despite his own isolation, he yet remained a contributing member of society.

written while listening to:  Vedda Music Society - unreleased live recording, track 1 (March 31, 1979, Space Jora, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 5, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

As often as not, our endeavors do not turn out as expected. Sometimes, our intentions are thwarted by a malicious adversary or competitor. At other times, we end up with an unforeseen consequence simply due to the chaotic dynamics of the physics-based reality. Such was the case for Antimachus, the daydreamer, who regaled Andromache with a far-flung fantasy in which he confronted the minotaur in its subterranean lair. He heroically dispatched the monster with a martial prowess he neither currently possessed nor trained to acquire in the future.

Andromache, the flautist, played a dramatic piece during Antimachus' description of the climactic battle. It was not an especially well-kept secret that she suspected man and minotaur to be one and the same. Therefore, in her song, she wove the message that the fantastic combat of Antimachus was merely an allegorical manifestation of an internal battle. The beast he faced in the gladiatorial arena was none other than an amalgamation of his worst impulses.

Antimachus concluded his daydream with the retelling of a grand feast, celebrating his triumph. He recited the toast that was made ostensibly in his honor, "To Antimachus, who spared us from the depredations of the horned and horrid beast! Let us gather again next week to determine if his victory was more than a passing illusion." Antimachus found this a curious tribute to have emerged from his own lips. He suspected that he had been tricked and that Andromache had a hand in it, though for good or ill he did not know.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Harumi Yamazaki - unreleased live recording, track 1 (September 28, 1980, Minor, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 6, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Periboea desired to demonstrate her courage to face the minotaur, lest she be accused of harboring idle fantasies of puerile omnipotence. However, the cunning of the minotaur was such that it revealed itself differently to its would-be victims, preying on their greatest vulnerability. To those consumed by anxiety, the clamor of the beast's heavy footfalls followed into haunted dreams. To those prone to despondency, the minotaur offered only the promise that, no matter how earnestly they tried to lose themselves in the twists and turns of the maze, they would never be free of its pursuit. To those like Periboea, paragon of valor, the monster teased, never providing the opportunity to test her mettle.

Her search for the beast led Periboea to the stone bank of the subterranean lake in which Eurymedusa dwelt. The two maidens greeted each other fondly. "Have you slain the minotaur?" asked Eurymedusa in greeting.

"Not for lack of trying," replied Periboea. "The creature continues to elude me." Periboea's gaze scanned the surface of the black water. "I don't suppose there is an aquatic beast lurking in the depths of your lake?"

The question caught Eurymedusa off guard. She had fastidiously explored the lake and the various underwater tunnels that led from its depths, but the notion of a second monster within the labyrinth had not occurred to her. "As far as I know, I am the sole inhabitant of my lake."

"It would probably take the form of a serpent," Periboea offered, trying to be helpful.

Eurymedusa gave the appearance of thoughtful recollection. "I don't remember any such form," she admitted, "but little light penetrates the depths of the lake, so it would be an easy thing to miss."

Periboea visited for a while. When she left, she remained unconvinced that the lake was free of monsters. After all, the labyrinthine tunnels were too gloomy to wander in the absence of, if not a companion, a familiar adversary.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & 4 AM - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-11 (November 15, 1980, Kanagawa University, Yokohama, Kanagawa, Japan, digital files)

June 7, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

Because Melite preferred ambiguity to govern her daily actions, she was able to find in the labyrinth encouragement that others, who valued explicit clarity, could not access. The labyrinth smothered volition; progress and an absence of progress were one in the same, since it was impossible, given the tortuosity of the maze, to move toward a desired destination. In the utter darkness of the tunnels, seeing and not seeing were likewise the same thing. The inability to perceive the present state, much less influence the future, infected Melite's mind-consciousness as well. Knowing and not-knowing were indistinguishable. Under such uncertainty, how could Melite blame the stone corridors of the labyrinth for her imprisonment?

In the darkness, she almost stumbled into Amphidocus, no less a wanderer in the unlit depths. They recognized each other by voice only and a happy but brief reunion followed. Amphidocus, ever in pursuit of a purpose to call his own, questioned Melite on her motives for exploring this most remote and abyssal section of the labyrinth.

Of course, given her philosophical stance, Melite could not provide any useful information to Amphidocus. Because she was fond of him, she chose not to mislead him with pleasant trivialities. At the same time, she did not want to cause her friend undue anxiety on her behalf. Expertly navigating this narrow path, Melite exclaimed in a burst of genuine warmth, "Amphidocus, how silly it is to call this place a labyrinth when it conforms so perfectly to the maze of our own thinking!"

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (February 17, 1983, Gyatei, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 8, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

As he stood alone at an irregular intersection in the labyrinth, formed by the juncture of three uneven shafts, Hippophorbas practiced smiling. The streaks of silver in the stone were neither of sufficient quantity nor were they adequately polished, so no mirror was present to reflect whether his attempts were convincing. The darkness of the mine was virtually perfect, as darkness goes, so, even if Hippophorbas had held before him a fine silver platter, he would scarcely have been able to make out his own image. Still, he persisted in the seemingly useless exercise.

Demoleon found Hippophorbas standing as still as a statue in the darkness. "What are you doing he asked?"

"I am practicing my smile," Hippophorbas responded.

"Let me see it," said Demoleon in an encouraging tone.

Hippophorbas turned. The two pretended, we suppose, that they were not lost in the labyrinth, that the one could perceive the other in the utter absence of light. It turned out that they were great pretenders. One thing led to another and soon they were pretending that there was something to smile about and that they were accomplished, professional smilers, capable not only of producing the facial expression but of manufacturing, out of thin air if necessary, subjects to which smiling was the only legitimate response.

A performance, which could have arisen in no other setting but a gloomy, subterranean cave, took place. The surrounding darkness served as audience and rewarded the thespians not with applause but with an insatiable appetite that consumed all memory of the act. When the two young men parted, an external observer would have erroneously guessed by the look on their faces that they had nothing to smile about at all.

written while listening to:  Factory - unreleased live recording, track 1 (date unknown, 1978, Minor, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 9, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Despite her best efforts to create a map of the labyrinth, there were occasions when Melanippe inadvertently arrived at a spot that she had already visited. That her return had not been predicted by the parchment in hand meant only one thing: her map contained errors. It is no small thing to accept that the work of one's life is flawed. However, Melanippe was faced with incontrovertible evidence. She then was tasked with the choice to continue as best she was able, noting the mistake, or to abandon the effort entirely.

Because we have her map in hand we know that Melanippe continued her labor. It must be said that others who have faced the same revelation of their blunders and miscalculations have chosen the other path. No less must be thought of one who, recognizing error, refuses to compound it.

Wandering into the same chamber, Europe found Melanippe in a dispirited state. When prompted, Melanippe openly confessed the inaccuracies in her work. Without intending to be insensitive, Europe dismissed Melanippe's concerns with a brush of her hand. She wrapped an arm around Melanippe's waist and surveyed the map beside her. "Melanippe, everyone knows that all maps are imperfect. Once after harvest, we hoped to take to visit my mother's sister but the road had been washed out by heavy rains in early spring. Discovering this unexpectedly, we did not view the omission in the map as a betrayal. We did not curse the cartographer for his negligence or lack of foresight. On the contrary, we traveled to a span in the river, shown on the map as ordinarily impassable, and because the summer had been dry, forded the river there."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Fred Frith - unreleased live recording, track 1 (July 21, 1981, Seibu Studio 200, Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 10, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Idas, the curious, found himself in the tunnels, which served as the vestibule, just outside the cavern of the crystal temple. Given the disorientation inherent in the labyrinth, it cannot be said that he had intended to arrive here but neither is it true that he had hoped to avoid this place. Porphyrion, keeper of the temple, greeted Idas warmly and ushered him along the narrow path that wove between the delicate, crystalline mineral growths. They were able to relax, without fear of damaging any fragile spines, in a small stone niche at the back of the cave. Porphyrion privately referred to this grotto as "the confessional", but chose not to share this moniker with his guests. He felt somewhat guilty about keeping this secret because he had no desire to manipulate anyone. Nor did he appreciate the company of others who presumed to understand him and his motivations better than he did himself. Nevertheless, he allowed the secret to persist because this space seemed to invite candid conversation from his visitors, often to the point of unburdening themselves. When his guests departed the temple with a lighter spirit, Porphyrion experienced a sense of joy.

He waited for Idas to speak. The young man eventually leaned over and peered out the gap at the myriad of faceted crystals behind them. He asked Porphyrion if his temple could serve as a conduit to the minotaur. "I should like to ask the beast a few questions."

Porphyrion shook his head. "That's not how the temple works."

Idas seemed to take the failure in stride. He was not surprised at all that the limits of conventional taxonomies of good and evil manifested to no lesser extent in the spiritual realm than in the earthly domain.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Fred Frith - unreleased live recording, tracks 2-3 (July 21, 1981, Seibu Studio 200, Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 11, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

While their stories are not often told, there exist pairs of people for whom quarreling is a thing unheard. That Hesione should be one member of the twain comes as no surprise. She readily embraced all those confined within the labyrinth as a beloved sister or brother. Still, it is no secret to parents everywhere that siblings bicker. Why should Hesione be any different? In truth, she did squabble on occasion with those whom she claimed as family. Her relationship with only one among them was free of argument. If we consider for a moment each of those confined with Hesione, there is one individual that might immediately spring to mind as a candidate for this honor. Indeed, our intuition would not be wrong for Menestheus was a gentle soul, who found in the devoted attention of Hesione no reason for discord.

Contrast their bond with ordinary relationships, platonic or otherwise, in which we are told that disharmony is an unavoidable, if not integral, component of social life. To clash with one whom we love is acceptable because, when the event that triggered the altercation has passed and emotions have cooled, affections will resurface and peace be restored.

While all this may be more or less true, we recall the enduring peace between Hesione and Menestheus, who, though they dwelt in darkness, never took umbrage with each other. Their example is, we suppose, important to remember, when authority figures remonstrate with us against seeking a relationship without conflict, against foolish and unrealistic expectations, detrimental to the health of the union. Such advice, well-intended though it may be, is borne of the disappointment of human short-comings, which need not be accepted prematurely as an inevitable consequence of living.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & John Duncan - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (May 20, 1982, Vega Studio, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 12, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

While there may be cemeteries to which the phrase "as silent as the grave" could be accurately applied, the labyrinth was no such place. Truly, the maze was intended as the final resting place of those offered to the minotaur. It was no less true that the damp air muffled sound in the subterranean tunnels and caverns. Echoes died quickly as if unwilling to linger in this forsaken tomb. However, the reign of silence was marred by the nervous ears of those trapped within, who found in each unexplained groan and rustle reason for fear.

Even Europe who espoused the belief that the minotaur was but myth could not entirely dismiss the strange noises emanating from the shadowed corners of the labyrinth. At times the clatter seemed so distinct, she suspected that King Minos had sent troops underground to fetch the bones of the sacrificial victims as proof of their demise. How surprised they would be, she thought, to find that many, if not all, of them had thus far eluded the beast and still wandered the twisting corridors.

Europe crossed paths with Melanippe and asked the other woman if she had heard similar signs of soldiers in the mine. A look of something like scorn flashed across Melanippe's face, before she was able to hide it. She expressed herself with greater composure, saying, "It is your choice, Europe, to disavow the minotaur. However, it is unbecoming for you to invent mundane adversaries to rationalize phenomena, rendered inexplicable by your steadfast rejection of all but the banal."

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Fred Frith, C. K. Noyes & Seijiro Murayama - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (July 23, 1982, Studio Henry, New York, United States, digital files)

June 13, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Although he was not regarded as a good singer and had never received any formal instruction in the art, Porphyrion enjoyed singing. He preferred repetitive chants. He adjusted the tempo and the length of the phrasing to accord with the acoustics of the particular underground chamber in which he found himself. He sought to harmonize with the echoes of his own voice. For a cavern of greater dimension, he added a syllable or more to the refrain and slowed the pace. As he wandered through the mine, he improvised with the changing geometry.

Of course, Porphyrion acknowledged that any noise could attract the attention of the minotaur. Sometimes, he allowed himself to be carried away by fancy, imagining that the gruff throat of the bull would abandon its hoarse snorting in favor of lowing in time with the chant. As is the case with many whimsical fantasies, such a chorus never came to pass in the tunnels of the labyrinth.

Porphyrion did attract the attention of Idas, who approached only so close that he might be easily identified. Porphyrion finished his song then invited Idas to join him. The words were simple and few in number, the meaning one of profound supplication. Idas ignored the suggestion. He thought that song was not the proper mode to address the deaf and unyielding earth in which they were entombed. Nor did Idas suppose that begging, however humbly, served any purpose. Rather, Idas imagined that, if he were to address the labyrinth, his message would ring out in the steel clash of pick and hammer against stone, expressing a sentiment altogether different in tone and temperament than the appeasement of mild Porphyrion.

written while listening to:  Nijiumu - unreleased live recording, La Musica cd-rom #1, track 1 (unknown date, 1990, unknown venue, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 14, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

People are creatures of habit, who under changing circumstances are able to drop one routine in favor of another. This limited degree of adaptability can manifest in ways that make life for the individual and within the community either better or worse. Andromache had walked without company--losing herself in the winding passages of the labyrinth--for so long that it seemed second nature to her. She had become accustomed to marveling in solitude when she came upon a particularly spectacular vein of silver streaking through rock. She paused before it and, in these few minutes of idleness, Antimachus arrived at her side. She took advantage of the unexpected companionship and pointed out the natural design in the stone.

Antimachus, the daydreamer, had spent many hours as a youth wandering through the woods near his parents' home, imagining himself a great explorer, braving untold dangers of the wild to discover a hidden city of gold. He said to Andromache, "You are now just as I was then, only you found silver."

Andromache, for her part, did not think the analogy so precise as Antimachus made it out to be. Still, she could not immediately identify the discrepancies in the comparison, much less articulate them. Eventually she decided that the best course of action was to agree. "Exactly as you say, Antimachus." She turned and examined his shadowed face for unspoken truth. She then asked, in a speculative but rueful tone, "Do you think of those days, now long gone, as time well spent?"

written while listening to:  Nijiumu - unreleased live recording, La Musica cd-rom #2, track 1 (unknown date, 1990, unknown venue, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 15, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

It would be neither kind nor accurate to say that Menestheus resented his parents for giving him up so easily when his name had been drawn in the lottery. They had not pleaded with the Athenian authorities to choose another, providing excuses for why their son should be exempted, as had parents of some of the others. That such efforts had ultimately proved futile made little difference. Nor had his parents made secret plans to spirit him away. It was almost as if on the moment his name was called, he had already boarded the ship for Crete and disappeared from their lives, a fait accompli over which they could do nothing but distance themselves as a way of protection.

"Surely they wept in private," said Hesione, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Each of us must grieve in our own way."

Her words did not bestill the anger of Menestheus, which had simmered in the underground cauldron of the labyrinth. However, he was a gentle soul and no trace of outrage would he display.

"They live in the same house where once you dwelt," Hesione assured him. "Each day they furtively slip pass your empty room, as if it were a shrine to a god with whom they have lost favor."

The knowledge that the suffering of others was no less than his own offered to soothe his hurt, but Menestheus was loath to embrace what appeared to him as a paltry and demeaning logic. Still, empathy seemed his only solace.

"Little brother," consoled Hesione, "what choice do you have? Pray that they may find a happiness, which the labyrinth keeps from you."

written while listening to:  Nijiumu - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (January 27, 1990, Goodman, Ogikubo, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 16, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

Lost in the darkness of the labyrinth, it is possible to arrive at a state of mind that questions many presumptions upon which human society is built. Every element of Amphidocus' previous life--his family, his schooling, the social structure of Athens--had been taken from him. These institutions were replaced by solitary wandering, unbounded, mental circumlocutions and the ever-present threat of the minotaur. If the facts of his life could be so incontrovertibly altered, was it not possible that the philosophical foundation buttressing that previous life was also subject to change? By this chain of experience did Amphidocus come to question much, including, it must be said, the premise of morality.

He found Melite in the mines and said to her, "I do not mean to frighten you with this query, but why is it that we have come to think of these sporadic meetings between fellow wanderers in the maze as opportunities for exchanges of kindness? Why shouldn't I just take what I want from you, or for that matter, you from me?"

If Melite felt threatened by his questions, she did not show it. In fact, she replied in a sympathetic voice, as if, in the not too distant past, she too had contemplated similar fundamental judgments. "Amphidocus, you already know, I suppose, that I cannot answer these questions for you. Each of us must find our own way. What I can say is that the whole of your future hinges on your response, for you stand at a fork in the road. One path continues interminably within the labyrinth, leading only to the lair of the minotaur, or one like it. The other suggests without guarantee the existence of an exit from the maze and a return to the community of men and women."

"And if I don't believe an exit exists?"

"Then you will have my admiration for choosing a noble path, though you could not share in the fruit it yields."

written while listening to:  Nijiumu - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (February 19, 1990, venue unknown, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 17, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

In the unrelenting commitment to the truth, one finds a paucity of empathy. As a youth, Eurymedusa associated the exercise of integrity with an obligation to uphold an absolute Truth. However, life in the twisting corridors of the labyrinth, had reshaped her understanding of integrity. She continued to accept that a woman of integrity was incorruptible in her adherence to a set of moral values. What had changed was only the definition of what constituted her values.

"It takes no special talent," Eurymedusa said to Periboea, who had arrived at the edge of the subterranean lake, "to wield the truth as a weapon."

Periboea nodded in agreement. She chose not to add her own nuanced understanding, nurtured by her experience of the disorienting darkness in the labyrinth, that truth, if it existed at all, was subject to an individual interpretation, largely governed by the particular route taken to arrive at it.

Eurymedusa sank beneath the water. She reemerged a few moments later a short distance away. Her wet hair clung to her neck and shoulders. She had dwelt so long in the water that algae had begun to take hold and bind locks of her hair together. From Periboea's vantage, it seemed as if lifeless snakes hung limply about Eurymedusa's face.

The monstrous maiden continued her lecture on the subject of integrity but Periboea was no longer listening. Without explanation, she waded into the cold water until it reached her waist. She beckoned the swimmer to approach. As Eurymedusa held forth on the eternal debate, Periboea patiently picked the clumps of algae from her hair, untangling strands one or two at a time.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Tetsuo Furudate - unreleased live recording, track 1 (April 22, 1990, Heaven's Door, Sangenjaya, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

June 18, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Because his present existence in the labyrinth failed to satisfy his desire for a life of meaning, Demoleon waited for the future to arrive. Having failed to navigate his way out of the maze, he supposed that the temporal evolution of the natural world provided the only avenue by which his circumstances could be changed. Some agent--sentient or otherwise--might free him. Perhaps a rogue miner, prospecting on forbidden grounds, might create an opening in one of the tunnels through which those trapped within could escape. Perhaps an earthquake could shatter the labyrinth in many places, creating multiple exits to the surface world.

Gentle Reader, do not scoff too contemptuously at Demoleon, who hoped for the improbable. There lies before us a spectrum of challenges, some of which can be overcome with proper determination, while others stretch beyond any reasonable expectation of human capabilities. Some of us have been trained to err in judgment on the side of under-estimation. We find in each obstacle, only an opportunity to test our strength or intellect. We give accolades to those who further the progress of humanity through such an indomitable spirit. We dismiss as useless those who grew in other ways.

However, there is value in considering Demoleon in a more forgiving light. At the very least, his nature provides a point of reference by which the merits of others can be reckoned. Besides, there is a softness in his waiting that appeals to some.

It did not, however, appeal to Hippophorbas, who had little patience at their meeting for mention of errant prospectors or erratic tremors. He felt the need to admonish Demoleon, lest both of them surrender to the enormity of their predicament.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Hans Reichel & Motoharu Yoshizawa - unreleased live recording, track 1 (January 10, 1991, Gospel, Sengawa, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 19, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

The labyrinth remained oblivious to the mercy of Melite, though that did not cause the maiden to retract it. "Let the stone remain unyielding, for that is its way," she said to herself. "And let my goodwill toward both the animate and inanimate know no end, for that is my way." It is a curious aspect of the fluidity of perspective that one reader may find in Melite's attitude a magnificent power over her destiny, while another reader may regard her with scorn for essentially celebrating her helplessness. The opinion of a reader separated by millennia bears little influence on either the convoluted path of the labyrinth or Melite's thinking. She continued to define herself as a force of mercy, despite the most severe circumstances.

Hippophorbas found Melite soothing the stone. The act instinctually appealed to him. However, he resisted the impulse to crouch beside her and lay a hand on the stone wall. Instead, he remained standing several feet away, a detached observer, ostensibly withholding judgment. When it became clear that Hippophorbas required an invitation to overcome his reluctance, Melite vocalized one. "Come and join me, Hippophorbas. The labyrinth is cool to the touch."

Although the temptation was great, he could not join her. An internal compulsion warned him against what was likely the first step into a snare. He bid Melite a half-hearted farewell and wandered off. She suppressed the impulse to chase after him and to lay her hand against his chest and to soothe no less the hard stone of his heart.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Hans Reichel & Motoharu Yoshizawa - unreleased live recording, track 2 (January 10, 1991, Gospel, Sengawa, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 20, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

Every action is subject to broad interpretation, sometimes being perceived in diametrically opposing ways, depending on the point of view. Thus when Periboea declared to Melanippe, "I don't need your map to achieve my goal!", what she intended to convey was her personal conviction and dedication to the cause of slaying the minotaur, with or without external aid. To her, these words emerged as a genuine component of her role as heroine. We harbor an undisguised fondness for Periboea so we are inclined to view her in this heroic light.

Melanippe had dedicated her time in the labyrinth to the construction of her map. Although it contained numerous inconsistencies, the map possessed an inarguably practical value, in addition to representing the embodiment of all her ambitions to make sense of the maze. Consequently, Melanippe interpreted Periboea's announcement as the epitome of prideful stupidity. She could not recognize in the dismissal of her map anything more than folly, for who would discard a tool so pertinent to the achievement of their purpose? We have a soft spot in our heart for Melanippe as well, and not just because she kept her disapproval to herself. We appreciated her single-minded devotion to the creation of the map, though ultimately it be rejected by everyone else.

Indeed, we wander through the aisles in the university library, a labyrinth of its own kind, filled with tomes and maps, some resting untouched for decades, each an essential component in the structural warmth of what we might sentimentally describe as an incubator of inutility.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Toshiaki Ishizuka - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (June 29, 1991, Lazyway, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 21, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Overhead the surface world celebrated midsummer, the longest day of the year, while those lost in the labyrinth knew only endless night. The detachment of Hippophorbas from the world of the living was so complete that he had no notion of the seasons, or the arrival of festivals intended to mark their coming and going. Dwelling in perpetual darkness, Hippophorbas was forced to invent his own solace. He imagined that his incarceration was justified by some previous act. Perhaps he had nobly defied an unjust order from a senator or perhaps he had committed a dreadful crime. The only flaw in his narrative was that he could not remember the reason that might put his present circumstances in context. He found consolation in the knowledge that most folks do not regard forgetfulness as a foible beyond forgiveness.

No more aware of the solstice than the other youth, Idas happened to cross paths with Hippophorbas. In their ignorance they said nothing of the ceremonies transpiring in temples across the land, nor the revelry that followed until a canopy of stars ushered a reluctant sun from the sky. "What are you thinking about?" Idas asked.

"I don't remember," Hippophorbas confessed.

"I suppose," said Idas, "it is the same way with the minotaur."

Hippophorbas did not especially desire to be compared to a savage beast, but the possibility that the creature also could not recall the actions that had led to its imprisonment within the labyrinth seemed too likely to deny.

written while listening to:  Ten No Okami - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (July 13, 1991, Freebird, Nagoya, Japan, digital files)

June 22, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Those trapped in the labyrinth largely wandered alone. Temporary groups, usually no larger than two, formed briefly then dispersed. There was something in the labyrinth that prompted solitary investigation. Melanippe, the cartographer, had begun to feel drowsy and searched for a niche in which she might sleep for a few hours. Coming across a shallow side-passage, she entered, only to find Hesione already curled up at the back wall. Hesione had not yet fallen asleep herself. She patted the ground beside her. "Elder sister," she said with a yawn, "lie down. There is room for two."

Melanippe accepted the offer and lay down in the narrow space behind Hesione, her face close enough to smell her, while the other could feel her breath on the back of her neck.

Some hours later, Melanippe arose while Hesione still slept. She felt rejuvenated in a way that could not be explained by the cramped confines of her short slumber. Her spirit also felt inordinately light. She could not attribute her good mood to anything other than waking in the presence of Hesione. She departed and her high spirits lingered, causing her to question the wisdom of maintaining her solitude. Attempting to retrace her steps, Melanippe returned to what she thought was the same side-passage in which she had last found Hesione. Examining the ground at the back of the dead-end, she convinced herself that the trace of two forms remained, but there was no other sign of Hesione. This disappointment was not sufficient to quell entirely the residual comfort of a night spent in the warm company of her friend.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Kazue Sawai - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (December 9, 1991, Romanisches Cafe, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 23, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

In his wandering through the labyrinth, Idas found a cave-in blocking his path. He found no signs of recent activity, suggesting that this path had been blocked for many years. He entertained the notion that a secondary exit from the mine might lay hidden beyond the pile of stone, despite the descending slope of the tunnel that has led him to it. In any case, he spent considerable effort removing those stones of a size that he was able to move, until he created a small passage just beneath the ceiling, through which he crawled.

He was not especially surprised to discover that on the opposite side of the blockage the labyrinth continued unabated. Idas did discover the skeletal remains of a solitary miner, his back leaning against the stone. He briefly wondered if this man had fallen prey to the minotaur.

There must have been other means to access this portion of the labyrinth, for Antimachus, the daydreamer, arrived at his side. In response to Idas, he said, "I don't think the beast killed him. There are no signs of struggle. His clothes are not torn by sharp claws, nor would the minotaur have propped the corpse in a comfortable, resting pose."

This observation led the two youths to discuss the appearance of the minotaur's lair. "I suppose," said Idas, "that the stone walls of its chamber are decorated with star-like patterns in which arrays of femurs radiate out from the skulls of its victims." Antimachus could neither confirm nor deny Idas' macabre vision. He said nothing; imagining the minute details of a horrific crime did not appeal to him as an interesting way to pass the time. Idas, for his part, seemed able to detach the necessity of the terrorized screams of the minotaur's victims from the ornate ossuary, which he continued to describe in a dispassionate tone. For some, the connection between life and death is not as immediate as it is for others.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Kan Mikami & Shoji Aketagawa - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (December 27, 1991, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 24, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

The rejection of a living organism as a subject that can be defined in a static picture is central to the ability to accept the ephemerality of our being. Hesione recognized this truth as well as any of her companions in the labyrinth. She dearly loved each of them, though they were changed from one encounter to the next. Of course each life was not without continuity. The thread of a life was woven of many individual fibers. While the great majority would span a finite stretch, some fibers would end, just as others would begin.

Leading a largely solitary existence in the maze, Hesione nevertheless periodically encountered her fellow wanderers, most recently, Melite. Hesione greeted her familiarly, as "little sister", for that element of their relationship had not changed. However, in their separation, the darkness of the labyrinth and the constant threat of the minotaur seemed to have eroded Melite's characteristic sense of charity. Hesione found her far more distant than she remembered. "Are you okay, little sister?"

Although she knew it was an unkind response, Melite replied, "What do you want me to say?"

Hesione smiled, expressing a mixture of sympathy and hope. "I wish only for you to find within yourself that reply which allows you to identify a path back to the light, nothing more."

A wan smile escaped Melite. She gazed ahead into the impenetrable pitch of the mine. "What light?"

It seems, although a detailed description of the process remains unavailable to us, that Hesione rewove a strand, which had frayed, back into the thread that was the life of Melite. This strand restored Melite's capacity to penetrate the darkness, enabling her to perceive within it the illumination of others, however faint and flickering.

written while listening to:  Fred Frith, Keiji Haino, Ikue Mori, Tom Cora, Catherine Janaux & Steve Buchanan - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (January 14, 1992, The Knitting Factory, New York, United States, digital files)

June 25, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Two people may seem alike but are treated very differently by those with whom they come in contact, because the judgment of others is not exclusively detached from imagination. Take the case of Antimachus, the daydreamer, and Periboea, the brave. Both were offered as sacrifice to the minotaur. Once interred within the mine, both spoke of slaying the beast. One could argue that even the motivation, namely saving themselves and their companions from a grisly fate, was held in common. It must also be acknowledged that there is no record of either Antimachus or Periboea accomplishing the task. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the youth earned a reputation for daydreaming, while the maiden became known for her courage.

Antimachus for his part embraced a dramatic role in which heroism was prominently featured. With naught but a rusted pickaxe would he lay the beast low, its pulsing heart skewered on the end of the spike. Periboea adopted a more tactical approach. She designed numerous stratagems to confine the beast in a dead-end or a pit, in which it could be more effectively assailed. Her traps remained untriggered, for the minotaur was a wary predator.

Perhaps the most salient distinction between the perception of the youth and the maiden lay in an instance when the two, together by chance, were accosted by the rumble of the minotaur in an adjacent cavern. Empty-handed, Antimachus sprinted headlong to his demise. It was Periboea who, hesitating, found it necessary to gather her courage before she rushed after Antimachus. Despite the fact that they had mistaken the thunderous collapse of a rotting timber for the minotaur's roar, their companions found in the imperfection of Periboea's courage evidence of its authenticity.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & RUINS - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (April 30, 1995, Showboat, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 26, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

People who share similar interests can be the most critical of each other. So it was with Porphyrion, the priest, and Andromache, the flautist, who both loved to sing. In a wide, bowl-shaped chamber, accessible only by two narrow shafts, each was alerted to the presence of the other by the shifting of footsteps in the loose gravel scattered on the ground. Lest he be mistaken for the minotaur, Porphyrion called out in the darkness, "It is I, Porphyrion. Who else is in this chamber?" Such was the dimensions of the cavern that his shouted question echoed for an unusually long time.

Sensing the acoustic potential of the encounter, Andromache replied in a lilting voice, "It is I, Andromache, who have wandered here by chance." Her words too lingered in the air, each repetition fainter than the one before.

Knowing of Andromache's penchant for song, Porphyrion proposed that they sing together. She instantly agreed but it soon became apparent that he intended for her to join him in a sacred hymn. Amplified by the natural architecture, their harmonious prayer would escape their subterranean prison to reach whatever high place where his gods chose to dwell. Andromache, for her part, desired to sing a song of defiant improvisation, celebrating only the notion that the creative spirit within them had not been silenced by the oppressive darkness and disorientation of the labyrinth.

In the end, these two very reasonable and congenial individuals opted not to raise their voices in unison. Perhaps each prized their craft too dearly to compromise. Andromache awkwardly apologized and Porphyrion responded in kind. Andromache exited the cavern first, leaving Porphyrion with the opportunity to experiment with the echo chamber on his own. However, he declined to do so. For him, the potential of the cave was spoiled by his failure to reach an accord.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino & Ayuo Takahashi - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (September 24, 1995, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 27, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

There were no birds in the labyrinth. Not the tunnels nor the caverns connecting them echoed with birdsong. Menestheus supposed that the appropriate, subterranean analogue of birds was bats, but neither did bats take flight through the corridors of the maze. Presumably the lack of an egress by which they could engage in their nocturnal foraging rendered these caves an inhospitable domain.

The absence of any flora or fauna made his imprisonment within the mine all the more dire, or so reasoned Menestheus, who thought that man, as a part of the natural world, should be invigorated by its verdure and wildlife. The unyielding stone walls expressed not an iota of sympathy. When Menestheus crossed paths with Amphidocus, he hoped for a more accommodating listener. However, when he spoke of the absence of bats, Amphidocus pointed out that, as it was, they need not worry about navigating over enormous mounds of guano, accumulated through the years. Menestheus pressed him, saying, "Still, wouldn't it please you to find some sign of life beyond our own or that of the minotaur within these walls?"

Amphidocus seemed in a dour mood for his response was less encouraging than the silence of the surrounding stone. "On which creatures would you wish the same misfortune that has been thrust upon us?"

Menestheus said no more to Amphidocus at this time. He had not yet devised his plan to resuscitate the hopes of one who has dwelt overlong in darkness and despair.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Charles Hayward & Peter Brötzmann - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (April 29, 1996, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 28, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Andromache arrived at the edge of the subterranean lake. In the darkness, she found no sign of Eurymedusa in the water. Placing the flute to her lips, Andromache played a song that glided across the placid surface. She imparted to her song a simple message. While she waited for a reply, she continued to play. The long, languid notes of the flute hovered beneath the cavernous ceiling, echoing until, deflected by stone and absorbed by water, the message had been altered.

Several yards from the bank, Eurymedusa surfaced, her head and shoulders emerging from the water. The two maidens greeted each other warmly. "What brings you to my home?" Eurymedusa asked, as if Andromache exercised any control over her destination through the convoluted passageways of the labyrinth.

"I missed you and I thought I'd catch up with you," she said, mixing truth and falsehood in an amiable proportion. "What have you been up to?"

Eurymedusa leaned back and floated on the surface of the lake. Lying perfectly still and staring up at the darkness overhead, she replied, "I am learning to breathe underwater."

Andromache did not think this a skill that could be acquired by one not born to it, but she withheld her objection. Since entering the labyrinth, she had seen many things that she would not have considered possible, the unfathomable vastness of the maze itself not least among them. Besides, Andromache suspected that, like the music of her flute, the half-truths they exchanged possessed their own message, which was similarly susceptible to alteration by the darkness filling the gap between them. Under these circumstances, immediate understanding was too much to expect.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Charles Hayward & Peter Brötzmann - unreleased live recording, tracks 3-4 (April 29, 1996, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 29, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

Amphidocus awoke to an impenetrable darkness. Whatever adjustment his eyes had made to the gloom of the labyrinth since he had first entered seemed to have been lost. It was as if he were blind, though his eyes were open and his mind continued to receive visual information. The sensory data was now utterly black. Amphidocus struggled to remember the moments before he had fallen asleep. He briefly suspected that he had slipped into a deep hole, but he felt no injury. He stretched his arms out and found familiar stone walls by which he might guide himself. In a surprisingly short period of time, Amphidocus discovered that wandering through the labyrinth in a state of blindness was much like it had been before. If anything the disorientation induced by the twisting tunnels was reduced. Relying more on his sense of hearing, he first detected the proximity of Demoleon. Approaching, Amphidocus quickly asked Demoleon if he too found the darkness perfectly opaque.

Demoleon laughed and not kindly, for he attributed to the darkness the taint of corruption. There was nothing perfect or pure about it.

"I can't see," Amphidocus explained.

"It is better not to see," Demoleon insisted, still without providing a definitive answer, by which Amphidocus could confirm or deny his blindness.

Creatures that dwell in darkness overlong lose their sight to atrophy. Without excess apprehension, Amphidocus supposed that this was his fate, although he would have preferred some certainty in the matter. Free of direction, seeing and not seeing were one in the same. Vision was rendered inconsequential. By way of farewell, Amphidocus reached out to place a hand on Demoleon's shoulder and discovered that, despite the change that had overcome him, he knew exactly where the other man stood.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Peter Brötzmann & Pill - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (May 1, 1996, venue unknown, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

June 30, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Eurymedusa slept on an isolated stone shelf at the back of the lake, accessible from the rest of the labyrinth only to one would could swim the dark waters and spy the hidden alcove. She spent little time there because she preferred the water and the stone was uncomfortable. That she was forced to retreat to the ledge at all was merely a consequence of her continued failure in teaching herself to breathe underwater.

She woke to the snorting of a beast slaking its thirst at the far side of the lake. The cavern was far too dark and the distance too great for Eurymedusa to make out its shape but, of course, the culprit could only be the minotaur, who reigned supreme over this maze and whose sole royal duty to the citizens of its realm was to share with them the privilege of satisfying its inhuman hunger. While it splashed about in the shallow water, it seemed unaware of Eurymedusa, hidden in her refuge. With naught to do but wait, Eurymedusa fell back asleep upon her hard bed.

When she woke later, a different sort of sound drew her to the bank. There she found Europe, standing knee-deep in the water, holding up the hem of her gown, exposing her pale legs.

"I thought I heard the minotaur," Eurymedusa said, not entirely able to banish the remnants of sleep from her voice.

"It was only a dream," Europe, who did not believe in the minotaur, assured her, "magnifying the sounds of me washing my feet."

It took only an instant for Eurymedusa to resign herself to the fact that any definite attribution of her memories, however distinct, to dream or reality already lay beyond her grasp. Darting about, she kept Europe company until the other claimed that the chill of the lake had begun to make her ankles ache. It is said that Eurymedusa alone could withstand the cold of the subterranean waters.

written while listening to:  Keiji Haino, Peter Brötzmann & Pill - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-9 (May 1, 1996, venue unknown, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

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