The Poison Pie Publishing House presents:

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

May

May 1, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Amphidocus had not anticipated the nature of his life trapped in the subterranean labyrinth. When he had been selected in the lottery, he had envisioned the minotaur greeting them with violence and delivering a quick end as soon as they had entered the mouth of the mine. When that gruesome welcome had not come to pass, he and the others had separated, each wandering blindly through the seemingly endless maze. His life now was one of aimless drifting through dark tunnels. He attempted to maintain a constant vigilance, darting down the nearest side-tunnel when an unidentifiable echo reached his ears. It was, in his opinion, no way to live and, yet it was the only way available to him.

His path crossed that of Europe, the disbeliever. Because she openly professed her insistence that the minotaur did not exist, Amphidocus suspected that she might know of a different, more satisfactory way of living inside the labyrinth. He asked her whether his hunch was on the mark and, if so, to share her secret with him.

"Amphidocus," replied the maiden, mixing truth and subterfuge, "Believing and not believing are much the same thing. The path of the labyrinth is still difficult, if not impossible, to navigate. The caves are still dark and damp, the stone is hard, and the hours lonely. Which of these things did you think would be different simply by denying the beast a hold on your mind?"

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (April 29, 1997, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 2, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

An individual life is composed, of course, of both fortune and misfortune. Often people are better adapted to handle the latter experiences, from which they can draw strength and wisdom, while the former serve no purpose other than filling time between episodes of hardship. It is possible, Eurymedusa hypothesized, for the frequency of incidents to become so great that the end of one blurs into the beginning of another. Under such conditions, discrete events become a continuous malaise. To such a dismal conclusion was life in the tunnels of the labyrinth prone. Eurymedusa dove beneath the surface of the subterranean lake and held her breath for as long as she was able. When she resurfaced, gasping for air, nothing in the world had changed. Time had continued its incremental march but left her largely as she was. Eurymedusa imagined that there could be a superior way to make life more tolerable.

Porphyrion, the priest, returned to the shore of Eurymedusa's lake. She sought reassurance from him but, as many of us have experienced firsthand, the gods are fickle. On this day, Porphyrion could not find the peace they ordinarily provided, so in response to Eurymedusa's plea for help, he replied, "No, there is no relief. You can only steel yourself and endure as best you are able."

"And if there comes a day when I no longer feel that steeling myself is worthwhile?"

"Oh," said Porphyrion, "then you hope, on that day, that the gods make their presence available to you!"

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-12 (April 29, 1997, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 3, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

In the winding, rough-hewn corridors of the labyrinth, Demoleon felt keenly his isolation. At times, he wondered if the others were intentionally avoiding him. While part of him knew this suspicion to be paranoid, the reality of his solitude could not be denied. Demoleon's nature leaned toward optimism; he desired to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. He therefore reminded himself that the others were struggling through the darkness of the labyrinth no less than he. Still, in his seclusion, doubt crept into his mind. What good was it to think the best of everyone, when many practiced deception and conspired for their own advantage?

"There is nothing you can do about it," Menestheus advised him, when they met amidst boulders at a juncture in the mine. "No matter what you believe of others, your opinion will be proved wrong again and again. The choice before you is only to choose the manner of your error."

With this statement Demoleon concurred. "I shall err," he declared, "on the side of light." To be clear, this avowal provided some measure of relief from the knowledge that others regarded him as a gullible fool.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 13-15 (April 29, 1997, Manda-la 2, Kichijoji, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 4, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

Two maidens strolled down a dank, unlit tunnel, holding hands. They conversed and tittered, as if they passed through a meadow strewn with spring-time daffodils, sunlight upon their shoulders. Let us steal up behind them unnoticed and eavesdrop on their gay conservation.

Europe declared, "I have said again and again that there is no minotaur. All of you who cower in the shadows are hiding only from an imaginary figment of your fears."

"I don't doubt you believe it," Andromache said cheerfully. "But there is a contrary secret that likely you know but to which you refuse to submit."

Europe came to a stop and, holding onto Andromache, caused her to do the same. "And just what is this secret?"

Andromache gave a sly smile. Although there was no one for miles around in these subterranean passages, she leaned forward, brushed aside the chestnut hair that covered Europe's ear, and cupped a hand beside her mouth so that her whispered words were not overheard. "That the minotaur dwells within each man--man and beast inseparable." She pulled away. "Men are real and fear no less real."

The pair resumed their progress through the darkness, if progress it can be called. Europe conceded without argument, "You are right, Andromache, on all counts. And yet, as you say, knowing this, I will continue to insist that the minotaur does not exist."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (June 11, 1994, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 5, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

Porphyrion wandered in the labyrinth surrounding the crystal temple, but never ventured so far that he was unable to retrace his steps, for, unlike his itinerant companions in the mine, he settled in the same place each night. It cannot be said that the purpose of his peregrinations was evangelization as he did not actively seek to promote the comforts of the cavern, despite its moniker as a temple. Instead, he roamed the tunnels because he had exhausted his patience with the alternative, to remain still.

Encountering Amphidocus on such a stroll, Porphyrion greeted him warmly. It was known to him that Amphidocus routinely asked others of their purpose, presumably because he lacked purpose himself and sought a worthwhile direction to adopt. Yet, Amphidocus did not put his usual questions to Porphyrion during their meeting. Instead, he complained of a stiffness in his neck and shoulders from sleeping on the uneven stone floor of the mine. Porphyrion's offer to massage the affected muscles was accepted. Amphidocus crouched with his back arched while Porphyrion knelt behind him, kneading his flesh. During this ministration, no words were exchanged. All the same, both men parted in higher spirits than they had brought with them. Amphidocus was pleased because his physical discomfort had diminished, while Porphyrion experienced a sense of contentment at having made the world incrementally better for one who had no interest in the healing power of crystals nor the virtues of the gods who dwelt in his temple.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (August 8, 1993, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 6, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

By his nature Menestheus preferred not to place himself in a position of judgment for he knew that each individual followed a uniquely convoluted path, leading to actions that anyone else might find questionable. All the same, Menestheus found the stone of the tunnel walls too hard and the darkness too impenetrable. He found it too easy to stumble over gravel scattered across the floor. That he should so harshly cast judgment on his surroundings made him ill at ease. He knew very well that if the world were impossibly made another way and the stone became forgiving, the darkness intelligible, the footing stable, some other element would emerge to torment him. This is also what is meant when we describe Menestheus as a man not made for this world.

Finding him at her shore, Eurymedusa pitied him. "Come into my lake and swim with me," she beckoned.

"The water is too cold," he replied truthfully, for the subterranean chamber maintained the lake at a temperature that none except Eurymedusa could tolerate for any length of time.

"The water has other qualities," Eurymedusa assured him, "which make up for its lack of warmth."

Menestheus tentatively waded forward, but stopped when the level reached his knees. He began to imagine the traits to which the maiden of the lake referred. It was then that he became aware of the echo of a watery song, resonating in the confinement of the labyrinth. It rang so clearly and without dimunition that Menestheus was amazed that he had remained oblivious to it until now. No less alluring than the call of a fabled siren, the song tempted him to explore the depths of the lake.

Menestheus retreated. The appeal of unyielding stone and opaque darkness seemed, for the time being, worth reconsidering.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-12 (August 8, 1993, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 7, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

Andromache played a wistful song on her flute, as she recalled spring in the countryside outside Athens. The fragrance of the hyacinth and the night blooms of the bougainvillea manifested in her song as the notes echoed through the stone corridors of the labyrinth. The music drew Demoleon to the maiden as a honeybee to the nectar of a blossom.

He stopped several yards from her, still cloaked in darkness, and listened to the song. It remains unclear to us, bystanders late to the scene, whether Andromache was aware of Demoleon's proximity. Certainly, the tenor of her song did not change. As Andromache continued to play and Demoleon did not step forward, we began to experience an uncomfortable suspicion that he had not merely come to admire the performance. Would he not have made his presence more evident? Did he, instead, eye the performer in a manner better suited to shadows?

Despite our fondness for ambiguity, a lesson, which we have learned by trial and error from situations such as this, is to err on the side of the obvious when uncertainty may be tainted by qualms of wickedness. There is a hierarchy to all things, even ambiguity, one variety preferable to another. Demoleon stumbled forward, disrupting Andromache's song by his abrupt movement. She greeted him pleasantly; concealing well whatever sense of caution she may have felt.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 13-17 (August 8, 1993, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 8, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

There is, of course, comfort to be found in darkness, especially when one seeks a retreat from the demands of daily life. However, we should forgive those trapped in the labyrinth, where the gloom was complete and unyielding, who had forgotten the comfort of darkness. Isolated and disoriented in the twisting passages and dead-end chambers of the mine, Idas perceived in the black expanse an insentient hostility at odds with his own well-being. "How could the minotaur have chosen such a place to dwell?" he asked the formless shadows. If they had an opinion, they kept it to themselves.

The wandering of Idas led him by chance to the bank of the underground lake in which the maiden, Eurymedusa, resided. Unwilling to enter the cold water, Idas summoned her with a shout to the shore. She appeared but did not emerge from the lake, preferring to remain gracefully floating at some distance from her caller. Idas repeated his question, "Eurymedusa, why do you think the minotaur was drawn to this darkness?" His question echoed between surface of the water and the stone ceiling.

"There is comfort to be found in darkness," she replied.

"And yet not only comfort," countered Idas.

"Perhaps," replied the swimmer, "the minotaur, a monstrous creature shunned by all, has developed a prodigious capacity for solace, which this physical darkness will never be able to fully sate."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-7 (February 20, 1993, Gospel, Sengawa, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 9, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

In life, as in many physical processes described by chaotic dynamics, there are unpredictable stretches of intense activity followed by lulls. Despite the fact that the arrival of a respite could not be reliably forecast, Hesione nevertheless anticipated the opportunity to catch her breath. She had recently fled from the coming of the minotaur, heralded by the echoes of heavy steps and animal snarling. It was true that she had not actually seen the beast but, if she had lingered for the purpose of visual confirmation, it was unlikely that she would have lived to tell the tale. We must therefore be satisfied with her account based on indirect evidence. In her haste to escape, she had raced through the twisting passages of the unlit mine. Stumbling over a loose stone, she had fallen. She lay silently where she fell, hoping that she had put enough distance between herself and her pursuit.

Demoleon found her in this state. Hesione had turned her ankle, which had already begun to swell. The underside of her forearms were scraped raw from the fall. Lacking bandages, he tended to her with calming words. After a while, he said encouragingly, "Give me your arm. I will help you to your feet."

"Little brother," she said to him, "I am tired. Let me lie here a while longer."

Demoleon did as he was bade. He sensed that her intent was not one of surrender. Rather, Hesione needed a period of uninterrupted stillness, in which she might recuperate and, more than any physical healing, replenish her mental reserves, so that she might be willing to properly live in the intervening gap before the next crisis arose.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 8 (February 20, 1993, Gospel, Sengawa, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 10, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Antimachus, the daydreamer, created elaborate fantasies in his mind, in which he gallantly slew the minotaur. In the long, lonely hours spent wandering through the darkness of the labyrinth, such visions provided an innocuous way to while away the time. Often, Antimachus brandished a mighty sword, engraved along the length of the blade with enchanted runes to keep its bearer from harm. Antimachus relied heavily on such magical safeguards since he had no formal training in the wielding of arms. His bestial adversary sometimes came at him with razor-sharp claws and, in other dreams, a gargantuan battle-axe.

Europe discovered Antimachus practicing his swordplay with an imaginary weapon in a deep chamber of the mine. Although she did not believe in the existence of the minotaur, she saw no harm in the fantasies of Antimachus, for his imagination portrayed events in such an improbable light that they only vaguely suggested the reality of the minotaur.

Antimachus invited Europe to share in a daydream. He offered her the role of a powerful sorceress in possession of an ancient artifact with the power to wink the minotaur out of existence with the uttering of a mystical incantation. While she accepted the invitation, in their role-playing of the epic combat, Europe never said the magic word, as she did not want to unnecessarily deprive Antimachus of his opportunity for heroism, imagined though it was.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (July 16, 1991, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 11, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Porphyrion; Moon: Crescent

In forgiving there is a cleansing, for anxiety accompanies anger. The abandonment of anger therefore liberates one from the associated mental stress. In forgiving there is a power, for the opportunity to demonstrate one's better qualities to the self and to the community should not lightly be squandered. Alone in the tunnels of the labyrinth, Melite expounded these thoughts to the darkness. She had not exhausted her ideas on the subject and no forthcoming appointments imposed any limits on the length of her ruminations. In forgiving there is a separation, for both the source and the recipient of the injury allow the connection between them to diminish, if not fade entirely. In forgiving there is an erasure, for the denial of the natural impulse to righteously defend ourselves surrenders some portion of what it means to be alive.

Porphyrion appeared at the side of Melite, almost as if he materialized there. Of course, Melite knew it was all too easy to steal up on someone in the pitch black passages of the mine. It became clear that Porphyrion had been eavesdropping. He added to her soliloquy, "In forgiving there is a joy, for the universe was fashioned to encourage revenge. There is no triumph more worthy of celebration than the defiance of the brute, inhuman natural way."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-8 (July 16, 1991, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 12, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Menestheus; Moon: Crescent

It was not possible to know whether the morning sun had spread across the island. Were the rocky escarpments yet buffeted by the surf in the cloak of night or, rather, had dawn placed a calming hand upon the sea? This question, like many others, Periboea could not answer. No window to the surface world existed in the labyrinth, ever immersed as it was in a perpetual darkness of its own.

If she were to slay the minotaur, as was her intention, she would undoubtedly make the maze a safer place for herself and her companions. However, the minotaur's death would not immediately resolve the issue of their exile from the world of the living. No obvious passage led to the surface. The entrance, now sealed, through which they had originally entered was long lost to the bewilderments of the labyrinth. For a while, Periboea contemplated life in the mine absent the threat of the minotaur. As it stood, all her will was bent on defeating the beast. Existence without it seemed, somehow, empty, if not accompanied by release from this prison and a return to city of Athens where her parents and siblings dwelt.

Menestheus comforted Periboea, when she shared these thoughts with him. "I too have grown fond of the minotaur, though it seeks only our destruction and haunts our every step."

"It is perverse to think so?" Periboea asked, for she sought to remain untainted by the corruption of the mine.

Menestheus remained silent for he was not confident in the answer to this question. He had also dwelt overlong in close proximity to a violent death and his attachment to it, born of familiarity, disturbed him no less than it did the woman at his side.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 1 (March 31, 1991, La Mama, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

May 13, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Andromache; Moon: Crescent

The brain has a limited capacity. Hippophorbas supposed that if he spent his mental energies on intellectual matters, such as seeking a grand rationale for the series of events which had landed him in the labyrinth, he had less reserves for anxiety regarding the pursuit of the minotaur. Still, no matter how earnestly he devoted himself to ostensibly higher pursuits, he was unable to escape entirely a sense of dread.

"That's because dread lies in the stomach," Andromache explained, "and the stomach is an organ poorly suited to pondering ecumenical mysteries."

"How then am I to rid myself of this angst?" he asked the maiden.

Andromache shook her head. "I have found that there is a portion of our being inextricably bound to restlessness and distress. We cannot pluck it from our person. If we solve one problem, another will take its place." Andromache paused and brightened. "However, our facility to worry also has a limited capacity. So, the trick is to focus our anxiety on something trivial, leaving no space for the barrage of enduring imponderables."

Andromache's words seemed eminently reasonable and appealed to Hippophorbas immediately. "With what triviality shall I occupy my time?"

"You have to figure that out for yourself. It's not hard though because there are a lot of choices." Andromache glanced at her flute. "As for me, I like to fret over the imperfections in my playing. It keeps me practicing. Once I master one song, I move on to the next and, fortunately, there is no end in sight."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (early 1990's, exact date unknown, Fukuoka, Japan, digital files)

May 14, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Amphidocus; Moon: Crescent

There is no map to navigate the travails of life. Each turn of fate, bringing fortune or misfortune, appears without warning. Any semblance of cause and effect is as likely a case of apophenia as it is of genuine causation. Identification of historical or generational patterns, which can be used to predict and guide behavior, should not be mistaken for a kind of map. Rather, periodicity of this sort is more akin to the rising and setting of the sun, a time-keeper only.

It is our great fortune that there is no map to navigate the travails of life. Already, the sensation that Melanippe followed a preordained path weighed heavily on her mind. A map would only reinforce and formalize her feelings of powerlessness.

At the same time, Melanippe, the cartographer, worked with meticulous dedication on the creation of her own map of the labyrinth. Curiously, this endeavor endowed her with a feeling of control over her destiny.

As she pondered such thoughts, she coincidentally ran into Amphidocus, whom she asked to reconcile her seemingly contradictory view of maps. He gave the matter earnest consideration before replying to the maiden, "Melanippe, there is no contradiction at all, once you realize that the map you so lovingly create will be useless for anyone but you." He smiled and added as an afterthought. "And if you never accept this realization, all will be just as well."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-10 (early 1990's, exact date unknown, Fukuoka, Japan, digital files)

May 15, 2019
Traveler: Eurymedusa; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

There were periods of time, ranging in length from an instant to a span of days or even months, during which the darkness was so forbidding and impenetrable that oblivion seemed preferable to continuation within the physics-based reality. Some individuals found the strength to act upon their convictions while others lingered in the world of the living, uncertain and disabled. One mechanism that relieved the pressure to some extent was to throw oneself whole-heartedly into a particular labor. For Eurymedusa, who dwelt in the subterranean lake of the mine, this labor was swimming. She swam endlessly. Exhaustion was not sufficient to cause her to rest, for she was already exhausted before she began. She poured every last element of her being into swimming through the cold, unlit depths, disrupting the placid surface only when absolutely necessary to replenish the breath in her lungs. There was no purpose to this activity other than to stave off, temporarily, the temptation for annihilation.

"Little sister," Hesione advised, as she reclined on the stone bank of the lake, "this is not a healthy way to live."

Coming up for air, Eurymedusa had paused momentarily, when she observed Hesione, whom she loved, leaning on one arm, her legs stretched out beside her. She expected but did not especially welcome Hesione's admonition. Nor did she have a rebuttal, for she recognized that she had succumbed to the malaise borne by the pervasive darkness of the labyrinth.

"Most assuredly, your melancholia will pass," Hesione assured her, before adding, "and just as surely it will come again. Therefore, since this is the way of things, you should..."

Eurymedusa dove back into the water. She did not hear the conclusion of Hesione's well-meaning but impossible advice.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (November 22, 1990, Waseda University, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 16, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Demoleon walked through the stone corridors of the labyrinth. When the passageway veered to the right, he went right, and when the passageway turned left, he followed. When he came to a juncture, he chose one tunnel over the others, though he had no methodical basis for doing so. Often, he had the suspicion that he had inadvertently returned to a spot, which he had visited previously, but he could never be certain; there was little to distinguish one tunnel from another and, besides, the ubiquitous darkness rendered any modest landmarks virtually undetectable.

When Demoleon asked himself the question, "Do these environs invite acts of virtue?", he genuinely did not know the answer. The labyrinth seemed at once to be in dire need of softening just as it presented a stern and forbidding demeanor.

Antimachus, the daydreamer, emerged from a sloping shaft that intersected the tunnel at Demoleon's feet. Demoleon asked him his opinion regarding the sort of behavior solicited by the labyrinth.

"Are you asking me," Antimachus replied with a question of his own, "whether the maze brings out the best or the worst in a man?"

Demoleon nodded; this seemed an accurate restatement.

Antimachus said, "I don't think that is the right question, because the potential for good and bad is already inside each of us. To use the provocations of the labyrinth as an excuse to choose one over the other is to forget that the labyrinth, despite its twists and turns, functions at its essence as a mirror, reflecting only that which stands before it."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (February 23, 1989, KD Japon, Nagoya, Japan, digital files)

May 17, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

Europe professed to the darkness of the labyrinth her unwavering belief that the minotaur, to whom the mine ostensibly belonged, did not exist. The darkness did not listen to her words or, if it did, remained unconvinced. Residing within both maze and monster, the darkness knew the two to be inextricably linked.

Europe supposed that an august scholar, one who had devoted his life to the study of philosophy, who had read the classics as a youth in the academy, then read them again in wiser years, could articulate a more compelling argument. Such a man of privileged erudition could likely construct a line of reasoning, in which it was all but impossible to concede that the very being of the universe hinged on the non-existence of the minotaur. Even as Europe imagined this irrefutable claim, she came to recognize its uselessness, for few would listen to, much less comprehend, the garrulous ramblings of a pompous scholar.

Melite agreed with her but cautioned Europe not to judge her imaginary philosopher too harshly. He succumbed, like everyone else, to the need to make sense of his place in the world. He had received educational opportunities unavailable to others, which rendered his interlocutions unfathomable to all but those who shared his privilege. "Show him mercy," she advised, "though he does not act as if deserves it nor recognizes his need of it."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-2 (January 18, 1989, Crocodile, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 18, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

The millions of delicate, faceted crystals were a testament to an earlier epoch when the chamber had been submerged in an aqueous solution rich in mineral salts. That the chamber, now dry, should provide a sanctuary to Porphyrion seemed neither especially appropriate nor unusual. Do not burrowing owls occupy dens abandoned by tortoises though there is no kinship between them? So it is among humans who make the best of whatever they find. Porphyrion prayed in this crystal temple. He did not expect his prayers to be answered, in part because he did not invoke any particular god, but mostly because he did not appeal for any specific aid. Rather, his words instilled in him a sense of peace that he was not entirely alone, surrounded by inanimate remnants of geological processes. He supposed it only reasonable that if the array of crystals harbored any sentiment at all, they likely offered a prayer of their own: that Porphyrion should not dwell among them for so long that he expired, leaving the calcium apatite of his bones to mar the pristine landscape of their more lustrous faces.

The courage of Periboea did not induce her to pray. Still, when Porphyrion shared with her his suspicion of the prayer lodged within the crystalline spines decorating his temple, Periboea was pleased. She found it a worthy prayer and added a brief entreaty of her own that the bones of Porphyrion and all who dwelt in the labyrinth might find a more accommodating resting place than the unyielding stone of the dismal mine in which they all were trapped.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-6 (June 10, 1988, Donzoko, Kyoto, Japan, digital files)

May 19, 2019
Traveler: Menestheus; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

The desire to remain in a comfortable bed, beneath a blanket warmed through the night by the metabolic processes of one's mammalian physiology is not shared by those who are homeless, who sleep in haphazard locales. Having no snug haven, they wake unexpectedly in the cold and resume their wandering. Thus the ordinary reluctance Menestheus might have felt at rising early was mitigated by the pressure of the hard, uneven stone against his back. He rose stiffly, parting from sleep without a fond farewell or the happy promise to visit again soon.

When Menestheus came upon Hippophorbas, he supposed that he recognized much the same sentiment in the other youth. They commiserated, the latter saying, "I once found an abandoned miner's camp, in which a blanket had been laid upon a layer of sand. It was the best night that I have slept since my arrival in the labyrinth." He sighed wistfully at this recollection. "Of course, given the ways of the maze, I was never able to find that spot again."

"You might have thought that King Minos would have had the decency to send us inside armed with bedrolls," Menestheus lamented with a rueful smile.

"I don't think King Minos expected us to live past dusk of the day when the entrance to the mine was sealed behind us," Hippophorbas replied. "He knows only the minotaur. What truly transpires in the labyrinth is, I think, beyond the knowledge of kings."

In simple words, they consoled each other. When they separated, they had successfully collaborated on the ordinary magic of friendship. The thoughts of neither dwelt on flawed slumber. Instead, each faced forward, hoping to make the best of what he found in the hours that followed in the darkness of the labyrinth.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 7-12 (June 10, 1988, Donzoko, Kyoto, Japan, digital files)

May 20, 2019
Traveler: Andromache; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

The flautist and the cartographer met, by chance, in an excavated pit, which had been abandoned in centuries past for failing to yield sufficient ore. Andromache, who had gradually descended along a winding tunnel until it deposited her at the bottom of this hole, had not realized that she was on a path to one of the deepest cavities in the mine. Melanippe, on the other hand, attempted to account for depth as well as longitude and latitude in the rendering of her map. As a result, she had some notion of the many hundreds of fathoms of rock overhead. However, even her best calculations substantially underestimated the true depth to which the two maidens had descended. They had taken different paths to this common destination and a little exploration revealed no other means of egress.

This abyssal fissure was a fitting locale for precisely one kind of conversation. Said the musician to the mapmaker, "Melanippe, let me lighten the aura of this dreadful hole with a melody." She played then a tune upon her flute that might have seemed incompatible with the surroundings but was well chosen to accomplish its purpose.

Later, Melanippe marked her map, labeling the dead-end pit, "The Well of Revelations".

Those who would come to study Melanippe's map long after her passing would hypothesize as to the origin of this name. A consensus grew among this niche of interested scholars that she had received a dark revelation appropriate to a subterranean tomb at the bottom of the world. How surprised they would have been to know that the epiphany which Melanippe had discovered was only a reminder of the ordinary recognition of the powerful buoyancy of friendship.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 1 (December 12, 1981, No. 1 Music Practice Room, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

May 21, 2019
Traveler: Amphidocus; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

There exist among us individuals who are more prone than others to asking questions. The motivation behind these inquiries are presumably as diverse as the people who make them. However, several broad categories of questioner can be readily identified. There are querents who seek out of genuine curiosity, but these are few. More common are those who pursue information for some ulterior purpose, as often personal gain as not. A third variety includes those who are lost, who ask open-ended questions because they have nothing definitive to declare of their own. To be sure, the boundaries in this taxonomy are blurred.

Amphidocus sought the answers to numerous questions, the purpose of which no one else could discern. As a result, Amphidocus was known as "the curious". Chief among the subjects of his curiosity was the minotaur. Amphidocus desired to understand how the beast had come to be and what prompted it to act in a manner that forced it to live as an outcast. Of course, no good could come from this monstrous knowledge. Nevertheless, folks that knew of Amphidocus regarded him kindly for his eccentricity.

Idas, on the other hand, was shunned. He did not ask the right questions and, even if by chance he made an innocuous query, his intention was invariably misinterpreted, as if his was an interrogation designed to detect errors in the reasoning behind any reply. Surely, Idas, rather than the entirety of the external world, was at fault for how he was perceived, but he did not know the origin of the misconception. Because he was lost and isolated, he continued to ask questions, despite the reticence of those he interviewed. In this ill-starred endeavor, the answers that Idas received did not especially benefit him, as they were, for most part, guarded half-truths.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (date unknown, 1980, Toei Shinjuku All Night, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 22, 2019
Traveler: Hesione; Companion: Idas; Moon: Crescent

It was said that in addition to ores of copper and lead, silver was extracted in great quantities from the same mine that, when it fell into disuse, was repurposed as the labyrinthine prison of the minotaur. From time to time, Hesione's eye fell upon a bright and crooked vein streaking through the rock, which she imagined to be silver.

When she came upon Idas, wandering through the maze, she had recently encountered a small lode of shiny gray. Leading Idas, Hesione retraced her steps, for she had not gone far. She drew a finger along the seam in the rock. "Elder brother," she said, "do we not live in a palace decorated with ornaments of the finest silver?"

Idas nodded; he supposed that was one way of looking at it.

"Are we not queens and kings to be surrounded by such extravagance?" she added.

Idas agreed less certainly this time.

"Does it not fall within our power, as monarchs of this domain, to give it all away, to disburse our royal wealth in exchange for our freedom?"

Idas paused but no amount of hesitation altered his opinion on the matter. Eventually, he was forced to reply, "No, Hesione, that is not the way of sovereigns. They are doubly bound--by duty to the state no less than by the limits of their willpower to renounce such comforts."

"But there is historical precedent for abdication of the throne..."

"Only when forced by a would-be usurper," Idas replied.

The pair parted ways, leaving Hesione to contemplate her future. She could not, for the time being, imagine the form of the savior who would appear to seize their power and, in doing so, liberate them.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-8 (date unknown, 1980, venue unknown, Japan, digital files)

May 23, 2019
Traveler: Antimachus; Companion: Hesione; Moon: Crescent

During his extended wandering through the labyrinth, Antimachus was struck infrequently by a frivolous mood. We can reconcile the rarity of these moments with his reputation as a daydreamer simply by noting that his typical flights of fancy focused on the grim and gory subject of slaying the minotaur. A sporadic, carefree caprice visited him in a winding passage, so narrow that, as he walked, he ran his fingers lightly over the rough stone walls on both sides.

He imagined the minotaur out of context--first on a sunlit beach with the surf lapping at his cloven hooves, then in a grotto dedicated to Dionysus, drinking wine from a horn in the company of diminutive satyrs, and still later on a high, snow-covered peak, above the lowest layer of clouds but beneath another, surveying rays of light immobilized between them. In each fantasy, Antimachus waited for the minotaur to share his reaction to the vista or the vintage, but the beast said nothing.

In this same passageway Antimachus encountered Hesione. As he lowered his arms to let her pass, he asked her if she thought that the minotaur would enjoy a day at the beach. This odd question caused Hesione to stop and solicit a retelling of the entire daydream. When Antimachus had done as she asked, Hesione said, "Little brother, why did you take the minotaur to your fantastic destinations when others would have been much more appreciative?"

"Who should I have had join me?" Antimachus asked.

"Why, me of course!" Hesione replied. "I would have known very well how to make the most of the beach. I would have drank just enough wine for revelry. I would have taken your hand and strolled with you between the angled, pillars of light fixing one cloud to another."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (October 27, 1979, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 24, 2019
Traveler: Melite; Companion: Antimachus; Moon: Crescent

Each of us is faced with choices regarding when it is necessary and appropriate to speak out and when one is better served by discretion. Sometimes, the choice is stark, the right path, whether we choose it or not, is clear. Often, however, there are merits to both speaking up and holding our tongue. Melite wished for a guidebook in such matters. This list would enumerate topics upon which it was essential to make one's voice heard. Since no list was forthcoming, she began to verbally create one herself, though naught but the darkness listened.

"I should always speak up in defense of children. And of the elderly. And of the sick and weak. And the poor and vulnerable. Let me not be so afraid to risk the anger of others that I fail to call out injustices against those who are hungry, widows and orphans, those who are driven mad, from birth or by grief, those who have suffered greatly, as the leaders of the world divide the spoils between them."

Unbeknownst to Melite, Antimachus, the daydreamer, had approached behind her, listening thoughtfully to her litany. When Melite paused for a breath, he took up where she had left off. "And let me not forget to speak out, even though I may be censured by those whose opinions I hold dear. When the judge errs in the dispensation of justice, let me alert him to his error, even though it is not my life at stake. If he does not listen in private, let me make public my argument. When an innocent man withers in the gaol, let me sound his case in the streets and in the senate halls. When men of hate spread lies to pit one neighbor against the other, let it be my voice that proclaims the truth, though it cost me my friends, or worse."

Such lists are easily constructed in darkness. The trick, of course, is acting upon them in the light.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, track 4 (October 27, 1979, Hosei University, Iidebashi, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 25, 2019
Traveler: Periboea; Companion: Melite; Moon: Crescent

Driven by a desire to protect herself and the others who wandered through the shadows of the labyrinth, Periboea, the brave, sought to slay the minotaur. Although she devised numerous schemes to ensnare the beast as it prowled the shafts of the mine, those that relied upon subterfuge had to be discarded. She found it far more likely that one of her companions, rather than the cunning beast, would blindly stumble into a hidden pit or trigger a rock slide. The trap required a human component to distinguish between friend and foe. This led Periboea to the conclusion that she would have to ambush the beast.

When she shared this train of thought with Melite, the other maiden did not refute the logic. "You will put yourself at great risk," she warned, though it seemed abundantly evident. Sometimes it is important to state the obvious. "Periboea, my friend, I fear you will be killed."

Periboea was young, as were all who had been ushered into the labyrinth as an offering to the minotaur. She had no special desire to die. At the same time, the perpetual darkness of the mine had prematurely aged her. A presentiment of death coalesced in the close gloom. In order to demonstrate her resolve, Periboea declared her commitment to this course of action with greater vehemence. "My mind is made up."

Melite found this a curious response, as it had never been her intent to change Periboea's mind or weaken her resolve. To the contrary, she had hoped only to send Periboea forth with the knowledge that she was loved by those whose safety she might purchase with her life.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha (Keiji Haino & Tamio Shiraishi) - unreleased live recording, track 1 (date unknown, 1978, rehearsal, Tokyo, Japan, digital file)

May 26, 2019
Traveler: Hippophorbas; Companion: Periboea; Moon: Crescent

Sometimes Hippophorbas woke in darkness to discover that he felt alright. The overwhelming anxiety caused by the presence of the minotaur, stalking him as he wandered through the labyrinth, was muted, if not entirely absent. Hippophorbas could not immediately identify a cause for his momentary feeling of well-being. It was presumably a false sense of security since the minotaur was invulnerable. The beast could not have perished at the hands of a mighty warrior, while Hippophorbas slept.

Periboea, mighty warrior-maiden, if given the chance, took issue with Hippophorbas' assertion. "The beast is a creature of flesh and blood. It can be killed. That you insist upon its immortality is simply the result of a combination of several misconceptions, including fear unchecked by reason, aggrandizement of the beast's puissance and an underestimation of my own strength and determination."

Incredibly, these words made Hippophorbas feel even better, at least for a short spell. He stayed by Periboea's side as she scouted the passageways of the mine, searching for a sign of her quarry. Given the vastness of the subterranean maze, it was not surprising that the minotaur could not be discovered upon command. When the pair parted, the sensation of weal lingered for a while longer, before returning Hippophorbas to his ordinary state-of-mind.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha (Keiji Haino & Ayuo Takahashi) - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-13 (date unknown, 1978, rehearsal, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 27, 2019
Traveler: Melanippe; Companion: Hippophorbas; Moon: Crescent

Almost useless in the darkness, Melanippe's eyes did not especially help her in the construction of her map of the labyrinth. Rather, she relied on her feet to detect faint slopes in the floor and her hips and shoulders to keep her oriented along a straight path, until the twisting of the passageway forced her to change direction. Intently focused on these senses, she failed to notice a stone cast from a rockslide into her path. Melanippe stumbled in the darkness. She caught herself but, in doing so, damaged her map. The tear from the edge of the parchment did not render the map unusable but it did put Melanippe in a frame of mind where she considered the consequences of a damaged map.

If she trusted the map to provide a structure with which she could imbue her life with dignity, did she not risk everything if the map contained flaws? "What if, unknowingly, I have incorporated errors into the map?" she asked Hippophorbas, when the two crossed paths.

Hippophorbas smiled kindly, for the imperfection of the map was a virtual certainty. "In that case, Melanippe, you are just like the rest of us, who wander these dark passages without the aid of external guidance. You must rely on your own internal compass."

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 1-3 (May 3, 2019, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 28, 2019
Traveler: Idas; Companion: Melanippe; Moon: Crescent

Traveling in opposite directions along a narrow tunnel, Idas and Melanippe unexpectedly ran into each other. In the darkness, it took them a moment to identify each other. Idas heard the crinkling of parchment, as Melanippe folded her map. "Oh, it's you, Melanippe," he said.

She, in turn, recognized Idas by his voice. "Idas," she said.

"Did you fear it was the minotaur?" he asked.

Melanippe had not heard the soft footfalls of the slender Idas. Even if she had detected them, she could not have mistaken them for the heavy trod of cloven hooves. "I suppose," she murmured.

Idas, the curious, then asked Melanippe a question that she had not anticipated. "Do you think the minotaur has of a map of the labyrinth that it keeps to itself?"

For Melanippe, the map served as a guide, one that helped her lead a life of dignity. "What use could the beast have for a map?" she replied.

"I don't know," Idas answered. "Maybe the minotaur had a map and lost it. Unable to find a way out of the labyrinth, it succumbed to savagery. Maybe it stalks the shafts of the mine, searching not for prey but for the recovery of its map."

"I think that unlikely," said Melanippe.

Idas seemed unperturbed by her doubt. "If I find a map in the maze and it turns out not to be yours," he told her, "I'm going to give it to the minotaur and see what happens."

Melanippe supposed that the minotaur would shred the parchment and devour the messenger. Still, the power of positive guidance should not be underestimated; she said nothing to lessen Idas' resolve to restore to the beast its impossible map.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 4-7 (May 3, 2019, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 29, 2019
Traveler: Demoleon; Companion: Eurymedusa; Moon: Crescent

It must have rained. Demoleon observed the steady patter of drops from a crack in the stone overhead. Somewhere, far above him in the surface world, water had collected in a gully that led to this gap in the mine. Although he could not tell one spot from another, Demoleon felt sure that the dripping stream was not a permanent feature. He was convinced it had rained and that knowledge imparted in him a desperate longing to feel the rain upon his face again, to smell the oncoming storm and to stand in the premature dusk brought on by rain-laden clouds. Instead he followed the meager trickle of water down the slope of the shaft until it eventually emptied into Eurymedusa's subterranean lake.

"Look what the storm has washed to my shore," she said by way of greeting. As was her way, Eurymedusa did not emerge from the lake. Only her head and shoulders broke the surface as she seemed to float effortlessly in place.

From the stone bank, Demoleon shared with her an experience from his youth when, venturing from the house after a wet and windy night, he and his sister had found a kitten, drenched and on the verge of death. They had brought the animal inside and set her by the warmth of the fire, where she languished for two days, breathing faintly and taking little milk. On the third day, her condition inexplicably improved. Soon she returned to the frisky ways of a kitten and for years afterward assumed the role of chief mouser in their home. As it is with animals, so too with people. After the tempest subsides, if good fortune is in the air, there may be an opportunity for one to show charity and another to start anew.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 8-11 (May 3, 2019, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 30, 2019
Traveler: Europe; Companion: Demoleon; Moon: Crescent

There dwell among us admirable individuals who believe in the gradual process of amelioration--that, despite numerous significant and extended setbacks, the course of civilization is slowly moving toward an improved state of human well-being. Different people come to this realization for a variety of reasons. Some find cause to invoke the divine. For others, it is simply preferable to the alternative--namely a progressive worsening of the human condition. For a few, especially mothers, this optimistic perspective is entangled in the biology of their being.

Europe, who wandered in the subterranean gloom of the labyrinth, imagined that she had a role to play in the ameliorative process, but she held no illusions that she was an instrument of divine will nor compelled by some other cosmic destiny. Nor did she entirely subscribe to the notion that to make the world a better place was nothing more than the best of any number of less desirable options. Instead, Europe supposed that she could take an active role in the creation of a life worth living and then live it.

"As I told you before," she said to Demoleon, when their paths crossed by chance in the maze, "I don't believe that the minotaur exists."

"Okay," he said, unwilling to argue but no more inclined to agree.

Europe did not explain to Demoleon that the process of amelioration was not exclusively one of conception and composition. There was an undeniable element of destruction to it as well. Of course, it was important to act with care, since there were also individuals who destroyed without any intention of improving the lot of those around them.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 12-13 (May 3, 2019, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

May 31, 2019
Traveler: Porphyrion; Companion: Europe; Moon: Crescent

Because Porphyrion wished to return regularly to the cavern that he had come to call the crystal temple, he was less adventurous than his companions in his exploration of the labyrinth. He curtailed his investigations lest the winding of the maze befuddle him, leaving him unable to retrace his steps. In one of these limited wanderings, he encountered Europe. She interpreted his hesitancy to accompany her, as she walked the endless corridors, as a kind of timidity. "It's because you believe," she told him, "that you live in fear."

"There is a surfeit of joy in believing," said Porphyrion without any apparent resentment at having his courage challenged, "which outweighs any ancillary dread."

Of course, all knew that Europe did not believe, not in the minotaur, not in the gods, nor, it was rumored, in the intrinsic goodness of her fellow man. However, she entertained no ambition to draw others to her way of thinking. She spoke her thoughts directly only as an accurate expression of her perception of the world and of herself. "Not believing," she countered, "is also a source of joy."

"You mistake power for joy," said Porphyrion. As soon as he voiced the words, he regretted doing so.

Europe fell silent. So what if she did mistake power for joy? Because she adhered to what she considered a rigorous objectivity, she was bound to reconcile the traits that she chose to exemplify with the actuality of her experiences.

written while listening to:  Fushitsusha - unreleased live recording, tracks 14-16 (May 3, 2019, WWW, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, digital files)

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