Cecil Vortex

Woosh

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That’s the goal. To open it
one more crack.
Bathe in the woosh.
Fire it back.
Not to be Superman.
But to stick our heads
into the place
where the idea of Superman came from
and then wriggle out
trout
in teeth.

The Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch, Week 14

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So here we are at Week 14, and now it’s all right there, all right there within reach. Me myself, I’m about 8 pages off target, which is the closest I’ve been in a long while. The most recent stretch has been one of my favorites. In particular, the story of Byron the Bulb, which came across as pretty much a perfect thing. And it’s just two more weeks now. Just two more weeks, and the inside back cover will finally be revealed….
Next week: UPDATE — we’d originally targeted page 706 (p/v), but I like So-Called Bill’s suggestion from the comments of belaying those orders and taking one more week to soak up a little extra Pynchon goodness. So let’s call this week a time loop and let folks catch up and retrace their steps.

Project “Fun-Time Challenge Project” Presents: Cauliflower Maximus

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The Challenge goes on! Two new mixes just in from the uber-talented and oft overheated mind of reclusive madman MC DD von H. Both build on the original piano number plus eb’s stellar vocals.
First up is Radio Cauliflower, a radio friendly mix with guitar, beats, bass, beach sounds, and more. Then comes something really extraordinary — a 3 minute feast of a remix called Cauliflower Maximus. And I’ll just say: Holy cow. Well worth your time.
For a quick recap, here’s the whole sequence:

If you’re thinking of joining the mad loop, start with any one of these versions, do whatcha gotta do, then email whatcha got to: vortex@mediajunkie.com. Thanks for listening. And thanks to everyone who’s participated so far. I dig each version, and the sequence from start to finish is quite a neat nod to the personal nature of creativity. -CV
MC DD von H’s Remix – Radio Cauliflower
time: 1:15; specs: 1.1MB
Press Play to play.
MC DD von H’s Extended Remix – Cauliflower Maximus
time: 3:13; specs: 2.9MB
Press Play to play.

Hate

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I wear your hatred
like a badge
like one of those
toy sheriff badges
made out of spray-painted
fake-metal
plastic.
Look at me: I’m a cowboy!

The Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch, Week 13

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Welcome to Week 13, Part 4, and the start of the last big push. I’m still a little bit behind my own self, chasing after the march, coverless copy flapping in my left hand. But I read 50 pages in the last two days and now my head, it’s swirling with Deathmarch.
Early on I read someone somewhere saying that one of the special things about this book and Pynchon in general is the way he wows you on virtually every page. Over and over and over again. And I continue to find that to be true and baffling.
For example: “‘Say, there.’ It appears to be a very large white Finger, addressing him. Its Fingernail is beautifully manicured: as it rotates for him, it slowly reveals a Fingerprint that might as well be an aerial view of the City Dactylic, that city of the future where every soul is known, and there is noplace to hide. Right now, joints moving with soft, hydraulic sounds, the Finger is calling Tchitcherine’s attention to–”
It’s those big, juicy ropes of taffy that keep pulling me through. That taffy and all of youse leading the way. So here we go, just three (3!) weeks left. By my insta-math, it’s looking like 10-12 people will make it all the way through to the other side. Perhaps right before we finish, we’ll take two hours and walk around the island making totems to all the fallen, like they do on Survivor. “This circle represents a donut for Jeff. He always wanted a donut.”
Next week: It’s a hike up to the peak of “Mount Page 663 (p/v)”. Let’s meet at the cafeteria. I’m told “there are things to hold on to. . . .”

Saturday

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What’s going on?
“What do you mean?”
All these cops. Why are all these cops all over the place?
“What?”
They’ve been circling the coffee shop for the last hour.
“Hunh. Really?”
Haven’t you noticed? On motorcyles? Walking past with trained dogs? They seem tense. Don’t you think? Even the dogs seem tense.
“I don’t know.”
You do. I can see it — please — please tell me. What’s going on?
“OK, look. All I know is, the Pope is dead.”
He chewed his lower lip. She watched him chew.
“I saw it on TV. Alright?” He took his coffee and scooped up his change. “The Pope is dead. The Pope is dead and there are cops everywhere.” He turned toward the door. “You do the math.”

Clean

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Little bird people
with their hollow bones
heads uplifted
trying out afterhours fancy soap.
Bath salts.
Sugar scrubs.
Sometimes
it’s not all about you
applying topical sweetness.
Sometimes
it’s all about
traffic hums
warm door
happy birds.