The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

March 1, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Each time Periboea mentally devised a scheme to end the reign of the minotaur, one of her companions within the labyrinth invariably pointed out some flaw, prompting her to discard the plan. She then set to work on her next version. She hoped that, with each iteration, the probability of success improved. However, sometimes, she was stricken by doubts that she was merely moving in circles, each new plan a haphazard amalgamation, cobbled together from features of previously rejected strategies.

To escape from such a doubt, Periboea considered a daring new approach. She shared it with the first person she came upon, which happened, by chance, to be Hesione. Periboea explained her latest proposal. "I shall offer myself willingly as bride to the beast. When it slumbers in our nuptial bed, I shall, like a viper, drive a poisoned dagger into its black heart."

Hesione frowned. "Eldest sister," she said tenderly, "I ask you to consider this course of action carefully before you succumb to a hasty impulse." Brightening, she added, "When the crocus or the aster opens for the bee, it intends to make honey, not to betray its partner in the sweet endeavor. I fear that if you follow your proposed course of action, though your blade should find its mark, your ruin shall be that of a flower, its petals withered, its craft with pollen no more fruitful than with dust."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-7 (November 21, 2013, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 2, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Much of the time, an eerie silence reigned in the labyrinth. Hippophorbas knew that sound traveled through rock. Upon arriving in a cavern new to him, he sometimes circumnavigated the perimeter of the chamber with a small stone in hand. Along the way, he would tap the walls with the stone. To his ear, he heard variations in the sound that the stone made when it struck the wall, depending upon the local composition and mechanical integrity. The presence of metal ore added a faint ring to the knock of the stone, while clay dulled it. When he hit a portion of Earth with a substantial fraction of sand, it crumbled in response to his strike.

If the rock separating one cave from another was relatively thin, as was often the case, given the numerous twisting passages of the labyrinth, the sound reverberated across the distance and could be detected in the adjacent chamber. In this way, Hippophorbas rationalized that he was sending out signals to would-be rescuers. Perhaps, the sycophantic advisors to King Minos had persuaded him that it was no longer necessary to appease the minotaur, so great had his might grown. Perhaps, the king had already sent a party of armed soldiers to retrieve those sacrificial victims who had managed to elude the beast thus far.

When Antimachus came upon him, Hippophorbas justified his tapping with this explanation. "I am alerting the search party to the fact that some of us yet survive."

Even Antimachus, known for getting carried away with his imagination, found this suggestion unlikely. Still, he picked up a second stone and tapped alongside Hippophorbas for a while, each reassuring the other as they signaled to the uncaring Earth, that they yet braved the darkness.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-13 (November 21, 2013, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 3, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

When we speak of Melanippe's map of the labyrinth, one must remember that she was ushered into the opening of the mine in one of two ceremonial columns, with seven youths in single file on the right and seven maidens arranged likewise on the left. All were garbed in folds of white linen, signifying the purity of the sacrifice. None were permitted to take with them any keepsakes, not so much as a locket, hung from a fine, silver chain, which when opened revealed embossed images of mother and father. So, of course, Melanippe did not possess any tools required for proper cartography--no marked rope to measure distance, no plumb line to judge depth or angles of descent, and no compass, no sextant, and no access to the stars. Nor did Melanippe possess parchment. Neither quill nor ink did she have in her possession. As a consequence, her representation of the labyrinth existed in a combination of two equally abstract spaces, the first located within her memory and the second comprised of marks she inscribed on the walls of the maze itself.

She explained the nature of her map to Melite, the forgiving, who had seen maritime maps full of lines and arrows following the coasts and curves of latitude, leading to distant shores. She asked of Melanippe, "Will your map guide you to me, should you so desire?"

"Certainly, I may find you. The map is both memory and maze, and you are lodged equally in both."

A curious thought occurred to Melite. "If I vanish from one, can you still find me in the other?"

In reply, Melanippe leaned forward, burying her face in the auburn hair that fell along Melite's neck and shoulder. She inhaled deeply the scent of her friend. By this breath, free of artificial fragrance, was Melite embedded in the enduring neural synapses, best able to withstand the gradual, inevitable fraying along the edges of the map.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (October 28, 2013, Corsica Studios, London, England, digital files)

March 4, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Idas, the curious, understood that, among men, malicious acts usually sprouted from seeds of violence or neglect that had been planted much earlier in life. He wondered if the same could be said of the minotaur. Presumably, even as a calf, the minotaur was rejected as a monstrosity, its bestial features a hellish desecration of its human posture. In general, much depended upon the individual as to whether subsequent acts of sympathy and mercy could heal the psychological scarring. Some, criminals by circumstance, were able to take hold of a life-line, should one be extended, and resituate themselves in society. The injury to others was so thorough that its effects could not be remediated; they were to be counted among the damned, fated to be contained and isolated until they expired, if not granted an earlier execution.

Idas did not know into which category the minotaur fell. "I would like to ask just such a question of the minotaur," he explained to an incredulous Periboea.

"And, if it turns out that the beast is irredeemable," asked Periboea, "do you think that it will let you go to share your findings with various esteemed academics, interested in unraveling perversities of the mind?"

"Of course not!" said Idas. "If it so happens that the minotaur is beyond all rehabilitation, I shall be devoured on the spot!"

It seemed to Periboea that Idas' excitement at the potential discovery was not properly balanced by ordinary concerns for self-preservation.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-9 (October 28, 2013, Corsica Studios, London, England, digital files)

March 5, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Cloaked in the unending shadow of the subterranean realm defined by the labyrinth, Hesione sometimes dreamt longingly of sunlight. Once the sunlit world entered her thoughts, a parade of those whom she had left behind quickly followed. Hesione wondered how family and friends fared. She felt certain her mother struggled with the ache of her daughter's absence. Had Hesione the power to return to that world, she would have done so immediately, if only to soothe her mother's pain.

Hesione wondered also about other events in the surface world, including whether this year's rain had been sufficient to deliver good yields of olives and lemons from the orchards surrounding her family home. Shortly before her departure a solar eclipse had delivered a strange, noontime dusk. Prophets and other harbingers of doom had proclaimed it a sign that the world was coming to an end. Like others, she had scoffed at the soothsayers. Little had she known, they forecast her individual apocalypse.

"For all I know," she said, continuing her train of thought aloud as Hippophorbas arrived at her side, "the whole world has ended, just as the seers predicted. We may be the only ones left, buried alive, for as long as we elude the minotaur."

Hippophorbas laughed. "I do not think the heavens take such notice of men's actions that they find their sins, plentiful though they may be, to merit the effort of divine annihilation."

"Elder brother, if the gods did not decree our fate, then who?" Hesione asked.

Hippophorbas did not relish the role of a herald for the numbing mindlessness of the physical universe, so, as a less malign alternative, he conceded to Hesione, "Perhaps it was the all-seeing gods who damned us, for misdeeds done and doubts yet to come."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - On the day the world ends according to the Mayan calendar, there's something that shouldn't be lost, unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (December 21, 2012, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 6, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

In order to demonstrate her conviction that the minotaur did not exist, Europe spread her arms wide and shouted at the top of her lungs, "O Beast, if you are more than a figment of legend and fear, come and get me!" Her voice echoed through the tunnels and caverns of the subterranean labyrinth.

In response to her summons, she attracted the attention only of Amphidocus. He smiled in greeting at the maiden, hoping that she was not overly disappointed that her defiant challenge had not drawn a more formidable adversary. "Hi, Europe." Amphidocus added a friendly wave.

Despite the seriousness of her intentions, Europe returned the smile.

"It's just me," said Amphidocus.

"I wasn't really expecting the beast," Europe reassured him. "Your presence only confirms my belief that the minotaur doesn't exist."

Under ordinary circumstances, Amphidocus would have been pleased to be the bearer of such good news. However, dwelling as he did in the labyrinth, he did not share Europe's doubt. "What of the terrible, bovine bellowing that wakes us from a restless sleep and hauntingly lingers, preventing further slumber?"

"Echoes of a nightmare, nothing more," said Europe.

"What of the hoof-prints in the gravel of the mine?"

"Random shapes into which your faith in myth has invested meaning."

"And what," said Amphidocus, "of the great swell of sorrow I feel for you, Europe, when I think that your next challenge will be answered not by an innocuous visitor but rather by the voracious beast itself?"

Europe smiled again. "To that objection," she admitted, "I have no compelling rebuttal."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - On the day the world ends according to the Mayan calendar, there's something that shouldn't be lost, unreleased live recording, tracks 6-8 (December 21, 2012, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 7, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

Porphyrion possessed no greater ability to navigate the labyrinth than did any of his companions. However, he was driven by a desire to be able to return at will to the cavern of magnificent crystal formations, which he had discovered and claimed as a temple. At the same time, he did not wish to meditate without end in the solitude of that cavern. He therefore attempted to commit to memory signs along those passages in the proximity of the temple that would guide him back to it as he wandered in a gradually increasing radius. He was rewarded with a measure of success when he discovered a reproducible path leading from the crystal temple to a tunnel providing access to the subterranean lake in which Eurymedusa dwelt.

Porphyrion invited her several times to observe first-hand the delicate geological formations. Eurymedusa had declined his offers, content to dwell in her watery demesne. He nevertheless persisted in extending the invitation during each visit until one day, without explanation, Eurymedusa accepted.

She swam through the water with the sacrificial robes, in which she had been delivered to the labyrinth, held over her head, donning the dry garment only when she was on the stone bank. She followed Porphyrion to his temple and he was not disappointed with her response, for Eurymedusa was no less impressed with the natural spectacle than he had anticipated. She shared with her host the observation that his temple reminded her of a coral reef, densely coated with sea urchins, each projecting spines through the gaps of their neighbors. They sat for a spell with their reflections manifested in a thousand competing facets before Porphyrion escorted her back to the lake, for she did not know the way.

Despite her initial reaction, Eurymedusa declined every subsequent offer to return to the temple. Each of us is made a different way; that one should find comfort in water while another in minerals is only as it should be.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - On the day the world ends according to the Mayan calendar, there's something that shouldn't be lost, unreleased live recording, tracks 9-16 (December 21, 2012, Roppongi Super Deluxe, Nishi-Azaba, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 8, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

Menestheus heard the screams, echoing from the darkness down the tunnel. The shrieking seemed to emanate from some distance and, though he did not sense an immediate threat to his person, he consciously experienced the quickened pulse of the fight or flight response. Dwelling in the labyrinth, in which his existence was governed by evading the minotaur, the urge to run came naturally to Menestheus. At the same time, he asked himself what good was it to remain alive if his existence only served as a testament to his cowardice and inutility? He accepted that there was no courage in his march toward the terrified screams, only resignation.

Although he sprinted at a dangerous pace through the circuitous passages, the volume of the cries diminished until eventually Menestheus was led by an agonized whimper, sporadically breaking the silence. He fully expected to find one of his companions sprawled upon the ground, savaged by the beast. He hurried, thinking he could prevent, at least, that one whom he loved should die alone.

Instead, he found Demoleon, standing alert and unwounded. When each simultaneously asked, "Are you okay?", both realized that the other was not the source of the howls that had drawn them there. They quieted, listening for a few, last ragged breaths, but their ears detected nothing.

Demoralized and confused, Demoleon made some passing comment to Menestheus thanking him for his willingness to risk his own life on the behalf of another.

Menestheus, of course, could have said the same of Demoleon, but he did not, for, as we have already noted, he had not been driven by courage and, who wants to be praised for an act of heroism, which arose strictly as a last resort against accusations of uselessness?

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (November 30, 2012, Tower Recordommune Shibuya Studio, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 9, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Andromache did not sing for a period of time; she felt a pain in her throat. It did not seem to her like that of a cold. Perhaps, it was an effect of dwelling too long in the damp environs of the cave. Her silence pleased some of the others trapped in the labyrinth, for they feared for her safety lest her song attract the attentions of the minotaur. Others felt differently, for, as she sang, there was ever a faint lightness, for lack of a better word, transmitted through the otherwise gloomy atmosphere of the maze.

"Sing for me," Europe requested of Andromache, when their paths crossed by chance. Europe, of course, alone among the sacrificial victims entombed in the labyrinth, did not believe in the existence of the minotaur. As such, she offered no admonitions against singing.

"My throat is sore," Andromache said, by way of polite refusal. "But, I think it is on the mend. Soon, perhaps, I shall sing again."

"What will you sing of, after an extended silence?"

Andromache knew exactly of what she would sing. She described to Europe a song appropriate for ending the reverence of silence and for ushering in the, typically much less solemn, celebration of life. The song would respectfully acknowledge the death of silence, as it gave way to the boisterous activities of the living. It was necessary, Andromache insisted, to maintain this decorum, because it was inevitable that the silence would eventually return. A show of deference in parting would avoid much awkwardness when the time for reunion arrived.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-7 (November 30, 2012, Tower Recordommune Shibuya Studio, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 10, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Whenever Amphidocus encountered one of his fellow travelers in the labyrinth (though to label them travelers implies an origin and destination that were not immediately apparent), he sought to divine their purpose, asking always, "Why?" This question caused those to whom it was directed to view Amphidocus as one lost at sea, for who would so incessantly seek to discover the purpose of others, if not to find a raison d'être, which he could adopt as his own?

For his part, Amphidocus did not view himself in this light. He simply considered himself someone who maintained a healthy interest in the motivating factors of individuals, and by extension, communities and systems arising from their intermingling.

So, when Amphidocus put this very question to Porphyrion, keeper of the crystal temple, the latter replied, "I want others to experience the benefit of prayer as I have."

"To glorify the gods?"

"Oh," said Porphyrion in dismay. "You have been poorly trained. The merit of prayer is not, in my opinion, the exultation of an idea or an outsider. Rather, prayer is worthwhile because it clarifies the individual." Porphyrion paused, before adding, "To be honest, I much prefer to exult in the mundane majesty of my fellow mortals than that of any sacrosanct deity."

On this note, Amphidocus, who was not given to prayer, visited the temple in the company of Porphyrion. There he spent a few pleasant hours, until, his spirit replenished, he ventured forth again into the dark passages of the surrounding labyrinth.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (October 11, 2012, Les Ateliers Clause, Rogier, Brussels, Belgium, digital files)

March 11, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

There is a limit to the extent of solace one can obtain from the inanimate world. While the finite happiness of material comforts has been often noted, here Eurymedusa thought rather of the natural world--the stone from which the labyrinth was carved, the damp air that had settled within the passages and the very waters of the subterranean lake, which she called home. Unyielding stone could appeal to one who had suffered due to the inconstancy of human nature. The stagnant air might seem inviting to one who has been buffeted by the tempest of worldly affairs. And chill waters could soothe one who had been exposed to the searing flame of human wrath. However, the empathy of the inanimate was mindless and impersonal. Eventually, Eurymedusa found within her heart a desire for companionship of a more transitory kind.

To her good fortune, Menestheus wandered to the bank of her pool. Menestheus was a gentle soul, what others described as "a man not made for this world." Eurymedusa invited him into the lake.

She laughed girlishly at the series of odd exclamations he made regarding the cold temperature of the water, as it reached his ankles, his knees, his waist, then his chest. Menestheus kept her company only for a little while, until he could no longer tolerate the chill that, he claimed, had seeped into his bones. His brief visit nonetheless proved a powerful tonic for Eurymedusa. Although he would not say so, Menestheus braved these waters for no other reason than to assuage Eurymedusa's need for company. It was by the fleeting presence of his compassion that Eurymedusa's receptivity to the more permanent consolation of the elements, which remained after his departure, was renewed.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-6 (October 11, 2012, Les Ateliers Clause, Rogier, Brussels, Belgium, digital files)

March 12, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

It seemed too easy for Demoleon to become lost in the labyrinth. Of course, the purpose of any maze was to hinder direct navigation. To Demoleon's way of thinking, the remains of this abandoned mine also represented a challenge intended to provoke an intrepid response. However, the collection of shafts, tunnels and caverns did not elicit a heroic reaction from Demoleon. Instead, it simply invited him to lose his way, a task which he had successfully accomplished. Utterly without direction, wandering through unlit channels seemed every bit the equal of sitting idly in the darkness. In this labyrinth, the physical universe had found a potent spell by which to paralyze a mortal man. Demoleon presumed a counter-spell existed, though he did not know the means by which it was cast.

It was his good luck that Andromache approached, heralded by the music of her flute before her figure emerged from the depths of the shadows. Demoleon accepted that it was merely coincidence that the two of them should meet just as he explicitly rejected the notion that some greater force juxtaposed their presences in order that he might be freed from his paralysis. Nevertheless, Demoleon seized the chance. Jumping to his feet, he danced to the music of Andromache. Her tune became increasingly lively as she observed his movements, until such a time when they seemed overly frenetic, almost desperate. She slackened the tempo, hoping to lead Demoleon to a more relaxed step. He readily accommodated her unspoken, musical instructions.

It can be said, and Demoleon would have readily agreed had we put the question to him, that this solution was ephemeral. To be clear, the existence of a more permanent cure to the variety of paralysis that plagued Demoleon remains a matter of theoretical speculation.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-10 (October 11, 2012, Les Ateliers Clause, Rogier, Brussels, Belgium, digital files)

March 13, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

One could not, Melite surmised, relent in the daily exercise of mercy. To ask for even a brief respite was too much, for the avalanche of injuries and cruelties, to which mercy was properly addressed, continued uninterrupted. Each time the thought of King Minos, by whose order seven maidens and seven youths were sealed within the labyrinth as sacrifice to the minotaur, crossed Melite's mind, she found need to remind herself of mercy, lest she condemn him for his barbarism. For King Aegeus, who surrendered fourteen of his own people, barely out of adolescence, without a word of protest, Melite also searched for a merciful perspective. For the genius of Daedalus, bent to no greater task than the construction of a death-labyrinth from the remains of an abandoned mine, Melite sought a charitable explanation. "Even the minotaur," she said to Menestheus, "is a victim of its nature."

Menestheus found much to love in the character of Melite. He told her so, lest he die at the hands of the minotaur and the secret words never be spoken. At the same time, Menestheus harbored the suspicion that she was wrong to so readily forgive all parties in the grievous injury done to them.

"What is the better way?" asked Melite.

Menestheus supposed that there was no better way, but he said nothing, as this was an unhappy secret, which he was resolved to take to his grave.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (October 9, 2012, The Village, Dublin, Ireland, digital files)

March 14, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

Ever intent on improving her condition, as well as that of her companions within the labyrinth, Periboea continued to devise strategies to topple the reign of the minotaur. Most of these schemes concluded with the death of the beast. As was to be expected when dealing with a lethal adversary, some of the plans carried a significant risk of loss of life for those responsible for their execution.

Andromache set down her flute long enough to listen to Periboea's role for her in the latest trap.

"With your lilting music," said Periboea, "you shall lure the minotaur into our ambush."

"Will I not be trapped as well?" she asked with understandable concern.

"I will place myself between you and the beast," Periboea promised. "I shall defend you with my last breath."

Andromache tenderly observed Periboea's modest frame. "I fear that your strength alone will not suffice to conquer the beast."

"I shall not be alone. Others will approach from behind and attack from the flanks."

"They too may be lost," said Andromache.

"All lives lost in this courageous endeavor shall be well remembered."

"And if the strategy fails and the minotaur devours those of us who draw too near, then retreats to strike again another day, what then?"

"Even then," Periboea assured Andromache, "we will know glory, for our lives will have been expended in the pursuit of a righteous cause."

The musician was not satisfied by the words of the warrior-tactician. When faced with a life-threatening enemy, as in all matters great and small, individuals must find their own path, by which they may best steer the world toward the cause of right.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (October 5, 2012, St. John at Hackney Church, London, England, digital files)

March 15, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

That the world should be perceived as incomprehensible, if not untenable, by a non-negligible fraction of people should come as no surprise. While some of those who have adopted this perspective could be termed, pejoratively, as "overly sensitive", others have, after extended deliberation, consciously rejected apophenia and willfully arrived at a similar conclusion. Perhaps we find a microcosm of these two populations in the friendship of Hippophorbas and Amphidocus.

Ever seeking explanations to justify each situation, Hippophorbas attempted to superimpose hypothetical narratives upon past and current events in order to make sense of what was intrinsically meaningless. To Hippophorbas, his incarceration within the labyrinth could not be reduced to another arbitrary act of injustice. He continued to nurture the notion that wandering through the dark passages could eventually lead him to a satisfactory interpretation of his personal tempest.

Amphidocus took a different approach. Unable to construct a meaning of his own, he questioned others regarding the purposes, which they had adopted. In this manner, he might discover a motivation that suited him. It was as if the labyrinth was a bustling marketplace, its walls lined with the stalls of merchants, where Amphidocus shopped for something practical that could also be extrapolated into a luxury, perhaps something like a very comfortable pair of sandals.

Imagining the ways that different sorts of people think about their role in the world can be a useful tool for inventing a mechanism by which we can come to comfortable terms with our own role.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-13 (October 5, 2012, St. John at Hackney Church, London, England, digital files)

March 16, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

The dreams of Melanippe, the cartographer, unfolded as if illustrated by conscientious monks on the vellum of well-worn maps. The continental coastlines conformed to her expectations but the unknown interior was filled not with the detailed paths of the rivers and ranges but the presence of a monstrous creature, parts bird and parts feline. Similarly, the unmapped regions of the ocean were depicted as the realm of a wicked sea serpent, its many eyes cast in all directions at once, intently searching for the ships of men, which it might crush to splinters within its coils.

If she focused on the section of the map dedicated to the island of Crete, Melanippe supposed she could roughly assign a miniscule point that corresponded to the location of the labyrinth. Exploding that point, as was possible only in dreams, revealed the layout of the labyrinth in its entirety. However, upon closer inspection, the labyrinth succumbed to the same limits of knowledge as the continents and the ocean--the borders were distinct, while the interior was filled with the image of the brooding minotaur.

Melanippe shared this dream with Eurymedusa, the swimmer. For her part, Eurymedusa did not enjoy hearing the dreams of others, nor sharing her own, though she did not communicate her preference to the visitor, seated on the stone bank of the subterranean lake. Rather, she listened until the story was told in full. Eurymedusa was not asked for her interpretation, nor did she offer one of her own accord, as the meaning seemed obvious to her.

There is no map. What maps we create to guide our actions cannot exceed the limits of their makers. Still, for those destined to wander, maps provide a reassuring aid to memory, keeping us to safe sanctuaries or pointing us toward wild dangers, when the allure of civilized company has paled.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (September 27, 2012, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 17, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

Those who are curious submit to others a power over them, for they are interested in the knowledge that others possess. It matters not whether their interest is borne of concern for the general welfare or arises from selfish reasons, nor whether it pertains to a subject of great estate or piddling gossip. In all cases, the curious cede a measure of their comfort to the keepers of secrets. In the instance where this relationship occurs among friends, the information can be exchanged freely; this natural curiosity serves as a mutually beneficial expression of concern, a means of communication, and a strengthening of bonds. In other cases, the one who holds power over the curious is not so scrupulous. He may exploit this advantage for ordinary material gain or to manipulate others. He may choose to keep the secret from one but not others in order to simultaneously provide himself with a sense of superiority while weakening a vulnerable foe. For those among us who have rejected curiosity, we must have sympathy, as there are many compelling reasons for someone to have learned to show such little interest in the lives of their neighbors.

Idas was not such a man. To the contrary, he surrendered to curiosity without hesitation or regret. He spoke openly of its destructive potential saying to Demoleon, "I fully intend to find the minotaur and to ask the beast point blank if it is driven to devour me by malignancy of thought or by mere savage impulse!"

Demoleon found this commitment to the pursuit of truth both refreshing and dangerous. He further suspected that there are those who describe their motivations in the most positive light as a means of silencing criticism regarding their steady progress toward self-annihilation.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 6-10 (September 27, 2012, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 18, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Among the panoply of human dispositions, there are those who devote themselves to the practice of austerities. This exercise is often interpreted to describe self-deprivation, in which a woman might purify herself by eschewing luxuries of the material world, be they rich foods, fine jewelry and clothing or carnal passions. Scholars might argue that this focus on the self is a twisting of the original intention of "the practice of austerities". The ultimate intent of purification is not abnegation of the self for its own end but rather a cleansing transformation that allows one to perceive a true purpose. In the fourth century BC, Aristotle called this practice eudaemonia, or living well by doing well. Roughly five hundred years later, Marcus Aurelius described it as catorthoseis, or right acts along the right road.

The austerities to which Hesione was devoted were inextricably woven into her love of the thirteen companions bound to her through the labyrinth. "Youngest sister," she said to Europe, when their paths crossed, "tell me of what you have learned in the darkness." Knowing Europe stridently disavowed the existence of the minotaur, Hesione was careful to avoid mention of the threat that preyed so heavily on the fears of the others.

Europe was pleased by Hesione's unexpected appearance and her forthright question. She answered, "Hesione, my sister, these shadowed caves and tunnels teach the lesson that darkness has ever professed: beyond the flickering candlelight, gloom gives life to fears, real and imagined, an ambiguous circumstance, which many find preferable to the otherwise incomprehensible emptiness of the void."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (September 21, 2012, Tokuzo, Nagoya, Japan, digital files)

March 19, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

Antimachus, the spindly daydreamer, engaged in what others might dispassionately describe as "dreams of infantile omnipotence", in which he was suddenly possessed of great physical agility and strength. He challenged the minotaur to single combat and slew the beast in a gladiatorial contest. His companions in the labyrinth were arranged around the perimeter of the cavern, as if occupying the stands of an arena in which this mighty spectacle transpired. Holding the severed head of the beast aloft, Antimachus triumphantly proclaimed to his friends that freedom was theirs. The men cheered him and the maidens planted adoring kisses upon his face.

Porphyrion, keeper of the crystal temple, accommodated Antimachus' flights of fancy but did not publicly encourage them. He preferred private prayer as a remedy to their imprisonment in the maze. Porphyrion was also keenly aware that some thinkers regarded prayer as a "projection of infantile omnipotence" onto an external agent. While he found a myriad of distinctions between the two approaches, he consciously worked to avoid condemning the daydreams of Antimachus as a means of elevating the merits of his own prayer.

In any case, both youths had found a mechanism by which they could manage their fear of the great beast lurking in the labyrinth. How unfortunate the prisoner bereft of both daydreams and prayers!

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-10 (September 21, 2012, Tokuzo, Nagoya, Japan, digital files)

March 20, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Porphyrion drew comfort from the presence of the countless crystal formations that had grown from virtually every available surface of the cavern--floor, ceiling and the walls between. The fragility of the geological structures put him in a reverent frame of mind. It cannot be denied that even his natural fear of death was diminished in this temple, for should the minotaur discover his sanctuary and come crashing heedlessly through its delicate adornments, Porphyrion felt it appropriate that his own bones be left among the ruins of the temple.

Through the circuitous paths of the labyrinth Hippophorbas arrived at the crystal temple. Porphyrion guided him carefully through the narrow footpath, weaving between brittle spines that would have snapped at the barest nudge. They took their seats in a small circular spot, rendered free of the crystals by some forgotten trick of local chemistry.

Observing Porphyrion's intimate connection to this place, Hippophorbas asked to know how it had come to be. Porphyrion had no training in mineralogy. He could not satisfy Hippophorbas' desire for an explanation. Porphyrion finally shrugged, admitting, "A place such as this needs no justification. You need merely to open yourself to the reality that it has come to pass."

For his part, Hippophorbas remained dissatisfied. If a turn of good luck could be accepted without question, did it not set a precedent that a stroke of ill fortune need be equally accommodated? Poor Hippophorbas sought a means to right the world without bias!

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-5 (June 16, 2012, Koenji High, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 21, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

It is a remarkable trait of resilience that the human spirit can exist in darkness and remain uncorrupted. Of course, we do not make any general claim of incorruptibility, only that there exist specific exceptions where corruption failed to take hold. One naturally wonders if there is anything to learn from their example, or whether, rather, such a demonstration is so far beyond our own common experience that it is useless as an instructive analogue.

Menestheus moved untouched through the darkness, his innate tendency to kindness intact. When Melanippe found him, she was hungry for an audience and immediately began extolling the virtues of her map.

Menestheus listened to her attentively, enjoying her display of genuine enthusiasm. He did not, however, share her conviction concerning the utility of the map. He understood that two individuals could walk down the same passage in the labyrinth and arrive at entirely different destinations. One might emerge unscathed, while the other experienced a profound transformation, as likely a diminution as an expansion of the self. That Melanippe's map of the labyrinth failed to account for this most basic aspect of the human experience rendered it, in Menestheus' opinion, a passing curio, nothing more.

He smiled broadly and waved in response to Melanippe's farewell. He certainly felt no need to make a fuss over matters he regarded as trivialities.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (January 27, 2012, UFO Club, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 22, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

Andromache composed a piece for her flute, which she titled "Man and Minotaur are One and the Same." She knew her message to be clearly transmitted when the music drew to her Idas, who asked upon his arrival, "Is this tune meant to entice men or appease the beast?" By asking this question, Idas revealed to Andromache that he was unable to distinguish between the two alternative purposes himself.

As with most questions of any significance, each individual must find the answer on their own. Others may provide guidance by their example or, as the case may be, counter-example. Andromache resumed her playing. The melody was intended to lead Idas along an internal path from which he could observe for himself the extent to which he gave safe refuge to the hungers of the minotaur.

At the next pause in the music, Idas said, "Andromache, of the various songs you play, this one is not my favorite."

"Oh?" she replied. "Is there another you would prefer?"

He suggested a traditional song that his mother had sung to him and his brother when they were children.

Andromache of course knew this song well. She acquiesced to the request and performed the piece at a languid pace. Idas relaxed, all thoughts of self-doubt banished from his mind. Whatever the ultimate message of Andromache's music, its delivery was erratic, one supposes by design.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-7 (January 27, 2012, UFO Club, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 23, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

Amphidocus entered a chamber within the labyrinth. Perhaps, he had been there before. It was impossible in the darkness to recognize features in each of the hundreds of caverns with which he could distinguish one from another. The gloom was palpable and possessed a primordial essence, as if Nyx, the ancient goddess of night, might be found in its midst. Nyx was said to have mothered many deities, creating from darkness, such beings as Sleep (Hypnos), Dream (Oneiros), Vengeance (Nemesis) and Doom (Moros).

Amphidocus also wanted to create something from the nothing of the surrounding darkness, but he instinctively desired it to be neither as grand nor as ominous as the progeny of Nyx. He would have, for example, been content to extract from the darkness a modest songbird--a shrike or perhaps a black-headed bunting. When he shared this desire with Hesione, he smiled bashfully at her laughter.

"Little brother," she said with delight, "we all want to make something of the darkness, but whatever would a bird do in these caves?"

"I suppose it could sing," Amphidocus replied optimistically.

"It would be better if you turned your creative impulses in another direction," Hesione advised. "Perhaps, something more abstract, which can survive the deprivation of light." She was not, intentionally, more specific.

Amphidocus wandered off, imagining some theoretical branch of asymptotic mathematics, capable of describing the overwhelming sensation of befuddlement, to which he sometimes succumbed. Not long after, he found himself again wishing for the bird.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-10 (January 27, 2012, UFO Club, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 24, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

In the absence of the passage of the sun across the sky, delineating time into days was not free of ambiguity for those dwelling within the labyrinth. Initially, the youths assumed that they could rely upon their own biological rhythms to maintain a clock despite their separation from the sun. However, as the duration of their internment grew, their individual clocks drifted from any absolute synchronization. There arrived a point where none of them could agree on the beginning and ending of days.

Nevertheless, Eurymedusa occupied some portion of what she imagined to be a day in the act of swimming in the subterranean lake that she had claimed as her home. The exercise maintained the muscles of her body and provided a meditative ritual in which her mind could find peace.

Every day, figuratively speaking, Antimachus daydreamed of conquering the minotaur. When he came upon Eurymedusa, paddling so that the surface of the water drew even with her shoulders, an idea came to him. "Eurymedusa," he called to her, though she was already aware of his presence, "you look so lovely and remote, dwelling far from the shore. Surely, the beast is a creature of unbridled passion, devoid of self-control. Let me lure the beast into your waters. None can swim as swiftly as you. Draw the minotaur to the center of the lake. Lead it in circles until it tires and is left with no recourse but to drown. Let the monster sink to the bed of stone, buried within an opaque, watery grave." Such was the imagination of Antimachus.

Eurymedusa did not take up his suggestion. She answered only, "I was drawn to take refuge in the sanctuary of this underground lake by more than the appeal of drowning."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 1 (July 6, 2011, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 25, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

Waking each day in darkness, Demoleon was confronted by the recurring need to justify rising at all. He spent a considerable amount of mental energy reconstructing a framework by which he could recognize value in attending to the tasks that lay before him. At times, he found the process exhausting. Demoleon worried that his expenditure of energy toward this existential buttressing of the self was so great that no reserve was kept for the crucial elements of life--doing good deeds and offering comfort to those in need, in short participating in the activities that justified his morning preparations.

He asked Melite, when she passed by, to help him. Once Demoleon had explained his conundrum to her, Melite intuitively understood what was required. She walked beside him through the labyrinth until they found a place where large stones had been cut from the surrounding earth and left in the tunnel, partially blocking the passage. They squeezed between these blocks, then Melite mounted one while Demoleon clambered up another. From these perches, they surveyed the darkness extending down the tunnel both before and behind. It was difficult, if not impossible, for either of them to avoid the rather obvious analogy that the tunnel conveyed.

"From darkness to darkness," said Demoleon, though he need not have vocalized the sentiment.

Melite nodded. She had no panacea to cure Demoleon's ills. She offered as a balm only the suggestion that the knowledge of others sharing in the same struggle might provide some buoyancy when the most treacherous moments of doubt returned.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 2 (July 6, 2011, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

March 26, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Despite the fact that Europe did not believe in the existence of the minotaur, she nevertheless acknowledged the courage in Periboea's unflinching resolve to confront the beast head-on.

The two women had been passing through a narrow tunnel of the mine, traveling in opposite directions, when they met. They faced each other in the darkness. After Europe's statement, which she intended as encouraging, Periboea candidly replied, "I don't have any idea what you are talking about."

They exchanged smiles, no less powerful for being veiled in the surrounding gloom. Europe took hold of Periboea by the arm. Leaning forward, she whispered, "The people who maintain that bravery is practiced exclusively in the physics-based reality are those who have had the good fortune to never feel threatened by their personal demons. For some, courage in the so-called real world, is merely a flourishing touch at the end of a much more arduous, internal process, in which they have conquered their inner fears."

"Oh," whispered Periboea in reply, "I see." She took one step back and added, "But you exaggerate the accomplishments of those whom you seek to describe. For many, there is no permanent conquering of their inner demons, only momentary reprieves. For such as these, the erratic, external exercise of courage is an opportunity to demonstrate, if only fleetingly, to the world their potential, should they ever be able to get their affairs in order."

Europe and Periboea parted, their friendship renewed by this brief, candid exchange.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording (February 17, 2011, Club Mission's, Koenji, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

March 27, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

One could imagine the shadows of the labyrinth as hiding places for beasts, muscles tensed, waiting to pounce upon unsuspecting prey as they wandered by. This notion, sinister though it was, did not evoke in Periboea any fear. She was possessed of uncommon bravery and, besides, the only beast that lurked in the labyrinth was the minotaur, which dispensed with any subtlety in favor of brute violence. It would not hide in shadow.

Alternatively, the darkness of the labyrinth could be interpreted as a manifestation of the void, an endless emptiness through which Periboea could drift aimlessly for the remainder of her days. In truth, this aspect of the gloom produced a greater response in Periboea, for she shared the common desire for a life of purpose.

Porphyrion came upon Periboea as she contemplated these two faces of the maze. She confessed to him that, despite the courage that others attributed to her, the pervasive darkness did leave its mark on her. Porphyrion, who ordinarily erred on the side of unwarranted optimism, appeared unable to summon an appropriate response. Instead, Periboea's admission filled him with a sense of sorrow, for it seemed she exchanged fear of death for fear of life. At that moment, he found himself unable to construct a convincing argument for any advantage her choice might yield.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (January 14, 2011, Club Quattro, Shinsaibashi, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

March 28, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

The acquiescence of Hippophorbas to the will of the labyrinth did not, from his point of view, represent capitulation to an unjust fate, imposed upon him by external agents. Rather, he felt that, by accepting his circumstances as they were, he better prepared himself for making the most of what many would reasonably describe as a bad situation.

However, when Hippophorbas encountered the gentle soul, Menestheus, his commitment to this principle was tested, for Menestheus appeared utterly overwhelmed by the unrelenting disorientation of the maze. His eyes seemed glazed and his posture betrayed a despondency that he was loath to admit. At their meeting, he acted as if he needed to be reminded that he knew Hippophorbas at all.

"It's this maze..." Menestheus muttered by way of an apology.

Hippophorbas wondered if there was a way to make the experience of the labyrinth tolerable for those born with a sensitive soul. The alternative, namely that such individuals be counted among the lost even as they struggled to navigate the labyrinth, seemed wholly objectionable. Of course, this enormous, life-spanning dilemma could not be unraveled by two men, meeting by chance in the darkness. It was, rather, a question intended for philosophers, secured in more favorable circumstances, to ponder at their leisure.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-14 (January 14, 2011, Club Quattro, Shinsaibashi, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

March 29, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

"The purpose of the map," Melanippe explained to Andromache, when the paths of the two women crossed in the mine, "is to provide a measure of dignity to those of us who would otherwise squander our time lost in this damnable maze."

Andromache opened her mouth as if to speak, then, apparently thinking better of it, pursed her lips. She could not, however, keep a skeptical expression from her face as her gaze fell upon the ragged piece of marked parchment, in which Melanippe put such great stock.

"What?" asked Melanippe.

"Nothing."

Melanippe continued to insist, politely it must be said, that Andromache share her reservations, until eventually the latter submitted. By way of explanation, she took up her flute and played a rather lengthy song, part composition and part improvisation. The piece included stretches of winding melody, which gave way to dissonance, only to re-emerge later, familiar but altered. When the flautist was done and the echoes had died away, there was no residual sign that the song had ever existed. "That is my map of the labyrinth," she explained to Melanippe, "the way I find my path through its twists and turns."

Melanippe was tempted to tear up her map into a thousand pieces and scatter them through-out the tunnels of the mine, just to show Andromache that her work also possessed an intrinsic ephemerality. However, she restrained herself, knowing later that she would greatly regret the rash destruction of her prize.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-4 (December 26, 2003, Bears, Namba, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

March 30, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

Idas supposed that one day the minotaur would devour him as a result of his curiosity. That end seemed not altogether ignoble if he were able to glean some insight into the motivations of the beast.

Amphidocus appeared in the midst of a prickly mood. We can hardly find fault with him, for who among us is immune to the exasperation born of the incessant bewilderment induced by life within the labyrinth? He accused Idas of that greatest of vices, uselessness. "What good," he asked, "can come of your revelations into the character of the minotaur if you are unable to share your findings with anyone before you are torn to shreds?"

Perhaps, Idas speculated, he might be able to temporarily elude the beast, allowing him time enough to record his notes and secure them in a small chest, which he could hide in one of the many niches in the stone walls of the maze. Then, even though the beast claimed his life, his work would not be lost. "Someone would come later to retrieve the notes."

"What if no one found them, lodged in the shadows of this miserable mine?" Amphidocus persisted.

Idas chose to believe that his work would be found. If three-thousand years passed and an archeologist interested in ancient Crete was the first to uncover his notes, still someone would know the minotaur's answer to the questions put to him by Idas, the curious: "What led you to embrace the life of a violent outcast in preference to a peaceful, communal existence? If aid came too late to prevent your choice, what means could we employ to give you cause to reconsider?"

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 5-8 (December 26, 2003, Bears, Namba, Osaka, Japan, digital files)

March 31, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

As she wandered through the dark passages of the labyrinth, Hesione lived in constant fear not of being ambushed by the minotaur but rather of stumbling upon the grisly remains of one of her companions, a victim of the beast's predation. On numerous occasions she had placed her hand against a rough stone wall to steady herself, only to have her fingers come away covered in a slippery fluid. No matter how many times this happened, her initial impulse was one of horror--that her hand was slick with blood, rather than cave slime, which could be found through-out the damp mine.

After one such false alarm, her touch still sticky, Hesione came upon the subterranean lake. She knelt on the stone bank to wash her hands. The activity summoned Eurymedusa, who stayed submerged to the neck in the deeper waters, as was her custom.

"Little sister," Hesione greeted her, "don't mind me. I put my hand in a patch of mucus."

"It seems a disgusting way for the minotaur to mark its territory."

"There could be worse markers," Hesione replied, thinking of what she had originally mistook it for. "Does this film coat the stone bed of your lake as well?"

Eurymedusa had not encountered the mucus growing on an underwater surface, though admittedly she had not conducted a thorough survey. Nevertheless, she answered, "I suppose it is no less infrequent here than anywhere else." Her unfounded speculation was prompted by a desire to convince the others that her watery domain was in no way superior to the air-filled portions of the labyrinth in which they trod. Whether she said this to dissuade them from joining her or to prevent them from feeling worse about their own situation we have no way of knowing.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 9-12 (December 26, 2003, Bears, Namba, Osaka, Japan, digital files)