asynchronology IV - archive 2008



asynchronology I was recently recovered from a compressed backup file -- see the bottom of this page.
asynchronology II, a blog, is here - last updated 2006.12.19.
asynchronology III is an assemblage work getting dusty in storage at East Jesus.


DISCLAIMER: for entertainment purposes only. the works presented here are fiction, sociopolitical satire, a farce of the human condition, tragedies and/or whimsical treacle of the information age with a surrealist edge, and any resemblance to persons or corporations alive or dead is purely coincidental. best suited for mature readers. material on this page may be considered offernsive, obscene, insensitive, politically incorrect or frightening.



2008.12.10.0847 The Indian of the Group

I just found out that Jimmy Carl Black passed away November 1st, at age 70. His website's home page reads,

Jimmy passed away peacefully Saterday [sic] 11/01/08 at 11:00 o'clock pm.
He says hi to everybody and he doesn't want anybody to be sad.

Jimmy was a friend and we spent two long, somewhat hellish European tours together with The Mothers, as they called themselves at the time (with Don Preston, Bunk Gardner, Sandro Oliva and Ener Bladezipper.) His personality was legendary and he was just about the funnest person in the world to get drunk with in the nightliner en route to some nameless Eastern Bloc city. And the STORIES that guy could tell you about Frank Zappa, Don Van Vliet, Roy Estrada ("INDIO!!!! I DIDN'T DO IT!!!!,") Eugene Chadbourne and just about everyone else he'd ever played with or toured with and all the beautiful young ladies that had shown up at his doorstep calling him Dad.

One time we were in the Netherlands - I think it was in Utrecht - Jimmy had a huge abcess or fistula or something on his butt, and a doctor came and drained it for him in the hotel just a few doors down from my room. We all heard his cries of "OH GOD!!!! OH GOD!!!! OHHH GODDDDDD!!!!!!" After that he had to sit on an inflatable donut atop his drum throne. During a "freak out" - a group improv section - in that night's concert, his repeated line was, "She opened me up like a can of worms." His nickname after that was Chief Semi-Hole of the Half-Assed Indians.

One time Jimmy was broke and asked if I wanted to buy his new CD. I did, even though it was a collection of mixing desk recordings from concerts *I* had mixed and recorded...without even a credit, grumble, grumble, but.....DM 30,- for a friend was a small price to pay.

The last time I saw Jimmy, I came to visit him at his place in the Swabian Alps, about an hour's drive from where I lived at the time. Ener was supposed to be there for a visit too. Jimmy opened the door nude with an erection, having apparently just dismounted. I excused myself and drove home. I wonder if Ener had a similar experience....

Good-bye, man, you were pretty awesome, and you made all those unpaid, shitty winter gigs, colds, hangovers worth the trouble.

Jimmy's official website:


2008.12.10.0544 an excerpt from Leo Tolstoy's Family Happiness

" have youth and beauty. I often lie awake at night from happiness, and all the time I think of our future life together. I have lived through much, and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor - such is my idea of happiness. And then, on the top of all that, you for a mate, and children perhaps - what more can the heart of man desire?"

"It should be enough," I said.

"Enough for me whose youth is over," he went on, "but not for you. Life is still before you, and you will perhaps seek happiness, and perhaps find it, in something different...."


2008.12.09.1637 ~sunset~


2008.12.09.1633 Thanksgiving 2008


2008.12.07.1953 falling

they call it falling in love. i know why.
it's feeling the world disappear from underneath you; you descend, you fall.
into love, out of yourself, down, down, you fall.
and it's not the fall that kills you,
it's the sudden stop.


2008.10.14.2022 by popular demand

music keeps bad thing away. must play music, especially at night. bad thing comes mostly at night. sad music makes bad thing sad. bad thing goes home sad and sleeps. then i can sleep. just the same i keep my guns close by.

things braided, golden, unraveling, mirror-image reversal. old enemy friend, young girl enemy. GE: strong buy. learning to speak to Turing machines with dits and dahs. 83 songs keep bad thing away. capturing whispers for the grinding wheel. wiring diagrams....things i keep forgetting...almost making contact with the global economy's ameobic emergent AI....the dialect is just so degenerate...

i am not paranoid. i am not cracking. this is how things really are. trust me.

summer's over. my fingers hurt. i'm alive.

can i go now?



2008.08.08.1353 no wonder...

from Scientific American, June 1958:

"Poll after poll amoung our youngsters has given statistical confirmation of the phenomenon of American life which David Riesman, in his book The Lonely Crowd, named 'other-direction' -- extreme sensitivity to the opinions of others, with a concomitant conformity. As a nation we seem to have a syndrome characterized by atrophy of the will, hypertrophy of the ego and dystrophy of the intellectual musculature. This rather unpleasant portrait is an inescapable conclusion from the mass of data on the attitudes of the younger generation. More than half believe that the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the local police should be allowed to use wiretapping at will, that the police should be permitted to use the 'third degree,' that people who refuse to testify against themselves should be forced to do so."


2008.08.01.9999 my religion (a poem)

I see god
in the night sky
in the body of a woman
in a rattlesnake

I see god
in my puppy's eyes,
in a scorpion's love
in an electrical
storm closing in
in the first bloom of the ironwood
and the headlines of
foreign-language papers

I hear god
in the thunder of the freight trains
in the interference between
gospel radio stations on
in the muffled
explosions and deafening
howls of fighter planes and their lethal cargoes,
raining down
on hot rock
and desert sand

I feel god
in the memories of my youth
in the oil stains in concrete
in the gaps between the words
we happen to exchange
on days such as these
when the skies are wide open
and our hearts are heavy
with the memories
of a first kiss or
a first good-bye


2008.07.27.1609 salt

Freaky dream - I am leaving EJ in Mutagen and right past the driveway get stuck in a thick, soft layer of salt crust. A construction crew has been hard at it, spreading salt all over three feet deep, and sculpting the edges of the wash into razor-sharp lines. I try to back out but only get stuck worse. No one seems interested in helping me. We finally get the car out but somehow enormous chunks of the front end, including half the wheels and part of the engine, have been scraped away as if by the action of a monstrous grinder from beneath the surface. By now I am furious and demand to see the foreman. The foreman, they tell me, is in Finnland or some other remote place. No one is in charge, and no one cares that they have destroyed my car. I go raging through the area, finding a main ofc bldg, and continue my demands to speak to someone responsible in order to arrange for compensation. I'm met with nothing but plump, devil-may-care indifference. One guy even says he can help me, and then explains that if I just let it go, it won't bother me anymore. I punch him in the face. He says he doesn't think that's a good way to get things done, and seems completely unhurt. I am still fuming in impotent rage.

A lovely Ibanez 12-string guitar found its way to me on Friday. I can barely put it down. I haven't owned a guitar in over ten years. My fingertips are in agony, but my fingers can still find their way around the instrument. I'm playing songs by Laurie Anderson, Johnny Cash and Swans. Suddenly I begin to feel like living in a skinned trailer in one of the most impoverished and insane desert regions in the country has been worth it just for the mojo. God willing, I will take the stage at The Range next Saturday.

Despite the heat of summer I am comfortable and basically happy. I spend a lot of time reviewing analog signal processing, learning antenna & feed line theory, dreaming up big plans for the shack. 4 more solar panels went up last week, which brings me up to almost more energy than I can possibly use, were it not for 8hrs of serious air conditioning every day. Often times I wonder where all the time goes, though I am keeping busy.


2008.07.07.1613 open letter to Sheriff Raymond Loera

Dear Sheriff Loera,

Thank you for sending me the requested CCW permit application in such a timely manner.

I am truly dismayed, however, at one of your requirements for application: the letter of reference from an active CA peace officer in Imperial County. I have only been living here for a little over a year, during which time I have not exactly taken it upon myself to fraternize with local law enforcement officers. As I live in Niland, an unincorporated town without its own police force nor a regularly-staffed sheriff's office, opportunities for social contact with peace officers are virtually nonexistent.

Perhaps you would like to spend some of your copious free time meeting with me on a completely personal level, discussing chess, politics, ham radio, philately, etc.? As I am quite short on funds, this would unfortunately mean you would have to come to me all the way from El Centro. Perhaps if we met once a week for a year or so you would appreciate the gentle, amicable nature of my soul, and would be more than willing to pen a letter of reference for me? No? I didn't think so. But if you have any tips as to how I might befriend, “rub elbows” or at least become acquainted with one of the many fine law enforcement officers in Imperial County on a personal basis (by legal means, of course,) I would appreciate your input.

You see, the area I live in is dreadfully crime-ridden, and somewhat out of view from the law. Arson and theft are quite common, and there are probably a dozen “mysterious deaths” out here each year. I seem to be one of the very few law-abiding citizen in the area, at least in terms of overall personal history (some of the convicted felons here are behaving themselves very well, thank you.) Cheap alcohol and methamphetamine are the drugs of choice in this neighborhood, and I'm sure you're quite aware how annoying and intimidating a stone-drunk tweeker with a baseball bat can be. So, Sheriff Loera, please help me get acquainted with one of your deputies in order to facilitate the process by which I may finally be entitled to my constitutional right to bear arms.

Most sincerely,



2008.06.21.1006 ham

I went down the amateur radio rabbit hole and came out several days later, ready to take the Technician Class exam. Last night I realized I could probably pass the General Class as well and, with the help of some very useful online study guides and interactive practice exams, stuffed enough knowledge into my head to do that. This morning I arrived at 8am at a local testing session, took the exams for Elements 2 (Technician) and 3 (General,) passing both, in under an hour. So now I have my CSCE, General Class, and am eagerly awaiting my name's appearance in the FCC database, along with my call sign. Now, all I need is some equiment! All I have is a cheapo handheld NASCAR scanner that picks up ham frequencies, with the factory-supplied rubber duckie. Naturally, there were stacks of Ham Radio Outlet catalogs all over the desk where one sits while his or her exams are being graded...

It's hard for me to understand why I never got involved in ham until now. RF is complex, messy black magic with just enough science thrown in to push it definitively into the "right side" of the woo-woo. I already have most of the test equipment I'll need (just need to get a freq counter for now) in order to get busy immediately with QRP and lo-tech homebrewing and plenty of old analog junk to cannibalize and sort out. I am going to need a new room....a new container would be, two -- one for the ham shack and one for the chemistry lab. I can leave the machine shop outside, as long as it's shaded and protectable from rain.

Look out UK, Japan, Siberia...I'm coming DXing for ya with my 1/4W QRP!


2008.06.19.0111 current events

the dominance of the vacuum tube was doomed
Lincolnshire Poacher and Cherry Ripe
acid, BoC, bad trip in the cold desert night played over and over, experienced as pleasant
One's immune system attempts to protect oneself from infection. Vaccines like intolerance, skepticism & disinterest provide resistance to new memes
in China new floods are happening minutes after they've been reported
there is collapse
Interlock interval between biological and technical net-components (-mesh with machines¹)


2008.06.17.1141 left undone

Thanks anyway. It was fun while it lasted. Be well.


2008.06.10.1110 is you ain't

yes it's been quite a rollercoaster ride. deaths, loves, gains, losses. latest hairpin turn involves someone out there ain't my gf no more. "i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you GET AWAY FROM ME." things already seemed to be falling apart in the woods; camping seems to be the ultimate make-or-break test for any relationship.

in San Jose, passing time as i usually do. some new firearms acquisitions: Smith & Wesson 325PD, Ruger 10/22, Ruger Mini-14. booked an unusually large loss of $1300 playing $20/$40 Hold'em at Garden City last night. Had a delicious Carl's Jr jalapeno Six Dollar Burger for breakfast this morning. two more weeks of slack, bourbon, Ethiopian and Mexican cuisine and petting dogs in the perpetually mild climate in this sleepy high-tech dreamworld. in my mind i've begun putting together a user's manual for the human mind focussing on its weak points, titled something like The Fine Art of Self-Doubt and Skepticism, or Why You Can't Trust Yourself. it's basically a collection of findings from the world of cognitive science which show very plainly in what ways our minds are falliable and inflexible, as well as the old laundry list of logical fallacies. it's intended to be a crash course for critical thinking ninjas. the mind turns to mush in the face of perceived threats. all heuristic cognitive systems are inherently superstitious, and we need to know how not to succumb to superstition. why we have such trouble changing our minds, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. why it's so much easier to simply accept and believe than to be skeptical, and how dangerous this is. and so on, and so forth.

i also plan to write an open letter to Sen Barack Obama, whom I endorse and hope to god is going to be our next president, explaining my opposition to further erosion of and opposition to the 2nd Amendment by federal, state and local government. it occured to me the other day that if honest, sane, safety-conscious and law-abiding citizens were permitted to carry, box-cutter-wielding terrorists would not have been successful in their 9/11 hijacking attempts, and the masterminds behind the thing would have had to come up with some other misdirection while demolishing the WTC. i personally would feel MUCH safer if everyone in the neighborhood were armed, not just the thugs and the police.

and, even though it's probably hotter than hell down there, i am feeling a little homesick. i miss my garden.


2008.05.22.0733 puke

it was day three of record high temperatures here in the Imperial Valley. my thermomenter read 118F. i had just put the finishing touches on the new photovoltaic power system, connecting the second leg of six BP 150W panels and throwing the switch on the disconnect, watching the MPPT do its thing and grinning smugly. just in time, i thought, to ride out the tail end of this terrible heat wave in complete air-conditioned comfort, and now without ever having to turn on the generator!

i was a bit weary from the heat and final push of the project. maybe i had overextended myself. perhaps i should have refrained from drinking the last two or three cans of beer last night. for whatever reason, after i got settled into the cool, dark comfort of the container to hide from the bilbical violence of the sun, i began to feel nauseous. i tried to relax and rest it out, but the nausea only increased. a burning fist formed inside my gut, and the next thing i knew i was outside vomiting quarts upon quarts of watery liquid in direct sunlight, unable to even move another few feet into the shade. i thought i was a goner. i might have been if i hadn't been able to get up right then.

but with the end of the retching came a mild euphoria and a return of my wits. i felt a little woozy, but figured maybe i had just had a noxious little something in my intestines that needed to be expelled. i cautiously sipped at a can of coke, hoping it would stay down and that would be the end of it. a little while later, i still felt ok, and drank more. then perhaps half an hour later i puked out another unbelievable quantity of watery vomitus, and this time i knew i was in serious danger.

i could still just barely figure out how to operate my cell phone - my brain flying at half mast. i called for help, and very luckily got some immediately. Big S took me to the Niland Fire Department, where they took my vital signs and began an iv drip of sodium chloride solution, which almost immediately brought some relief. an ambulance arrived and took me to Pioneer Hospital in Brawley. the ambulance was not air conditioned, and they would not give me any water to drink, though i was in severe danger of dehydration. i remembered to breathe through my nose and keep my mouth closed, and thus had to refrain from small talk with the attendants.

at the hospital i was reminded of the fact that hospitals are not there to make you well but rather to prevent you from dying. it is hard for me to imagine a more poorly orchestrated cluster of humans, layers of responsibility so badly dovetailed that it seems by utter miracle that anything gets done at all. at least faith healers give the impression that they really was so cold there i had to ask for a blanket, and when i asked for water i was refused. i actually put up with that treatment for about two hours before i got angry enough to demand water - i said i was overriding whatever medical decision had been made. no one was responsible. my "treatment," which simply consisted of a blood test, was delayed by at least half an hour because my bracelet still hadn't been put on my wrist. bracelet nr 793323, Doctor: Butcher, Brent A. i found this amusing.

at some apparently random moment someone came in to notify me that i had been released. i asked where to go to make a payment. no one could give me that information.

Big S called just then, saying he was on his way. desert rats: 2; babylon: 0. i sat in the somewhat less extremely cool lobby, my clothes still moist, still feeling like shit, flies tending to agree. i went and used the rest room. i heard what sounded like a baby being disemboweled.

on the way home i puked some more, and felt the fist in my stomach, now angrier than ever.

at home i just lay in my recliner, sipping at various beverages and squirting yellow bile from my ass every 15 minutes, all night long. yesterday i began to feel like i'd make it, especially since i hadn't vomited for many hours. but any sort of activity above and beyond the absolute necessities of hydration and relief were impossible. by noon i was making far fewer trips to the toilet and drinking wasn't as scary. this morning i am feeling much better and able to get things done, but i am still quite unmotivated.


2008.04.23.2332 232232.0

[actual tachometer reading on MUTAGEN]


2008.04.22.1316 Plato, home at last



2008.04.17.1346 bloom

this is the first cactus - planted just a few weeks ago - to bloom at East Jesus. it's kind of exciting for me. until now i've been like a complete black thumb, but these days i seem to be listening to the plants, the earth and the weather with fresh ears.

i've planted a lot since returning home mid-March: three agaves, many cactus, more aloes and two Italian cypress. all seem to be pretty happy. the cactus from last year seem to have recovered and taken firm root, and are all sprouting new growth.

there's still too much going on to blog about. sorry. please be patient with me while i spend a good long time incubating the reptilian homunculus that will emerge as a shiny black winged love demon of the apocalypse....



2008.04.11.1447 happy

this isn't news, nobody cares when you say, "I am happier than I have ever been in my life."
no one gives a flying fuck when everything works out, when the mountains touch the ground, and when the lovers are united, though distant...
and world peace might be the most boring thing to ever descend upon us....

be prepared, then, for lots and lots of boredom, my friend....
the future is now, and it's after the end of the world.

may our immediate future be without incident, without calamity, and without the newsworthy.
i am beyond contentment in my boring little place in the desert, with my views of the mountains
and my dog, and my friends, some shade,
and a few gallons of water for the cactus, and me.

i remain - unspectacularly, very forgetttably yours.....

- chasterus


2008.03.30.1806 Rockette Bob's special feelings

" Hey  Charlie.... you are a controling greed head. go count your chips around ones like yourself...steal ideas from wherever you want, but stay away from me !!!  go fuck yourself !!!..............the undead - invisable - former - friend - bob......p.s....print this one, you fat asshole......bob"


2008.03.17.1518 how?

how do you tell the world you're in love with someone you've been searching for for an awfully long time?
how do you explain the bazillion was she makes you happy, even though she's hundreds of miles away?
tell ya what....i'll get to it soon as i've figured it out.

in the mean time, please forgive the eventual radio silence. life is just too good and fruitful and busy and beautiful to blog about.
and, as you already know, i really suck at writing when i'm happy.

but here she is:


2008.03.16.1706 scope

takes more than just a few days to wrap
a few days in fine telescopic

not a matter of seclusion nor life-breathing
fine telescopic muse, but one of

2008.03.08.0403 contents

a package that took a month to find me - out on the porch where kids could get to it - why I hate FedEx - containing in no particular order - LED/laser flashlight; first aid kit; 20 rds 12GA magnum 00 buck; 50 rds .45 ACP fmj; 5x can openers; pepper spray; army survival field manual; marines close combat manual; 20 lbs military flechette.

the only truths i can discern at this moment: i am beyond exhaustion and cannot rest; she is fancy; my beard has grown quite long; danger is an aphrodisiac; there is danger and then there is danger; the slide felt good against my temple; the bottle is empty; i am homesick, future-shocked and falling in love.


2008.03.08.0320 oh shit - new moon - no wonder

it should have been a romantic excursion to the past/future and a family reunion of sorts. instead, i let my sleep-deprived, overworked neurons carry me zombie-like into that place where only brute reflexes and idiot paranoia walk around off-leash. too much happening, even if it's all good: my novelty meter is pegged and my brain is screaming for sensory dimunuition. way to go, sir. my fault? sure. but i beg the jury to bear in mind: i'm swimming in gasoline four days too far into the future, driving an average of 160 miles per day, trying to manage a project where the inmates took control of the asylum years ago, and it's the new fucking moon already and unexpected blood is flowing. has all that happened since the total lunar eclipse? unreal, just unreal. like two years condensed into two weeks, too weak to condescend too fearful tectonic shifts underneath me, fuck, what's happening? what's going wrong? in dreams my friends are attacking me, and in real life i wake up to find myself turning against them. get this monkeymind off me, it hurts.


2008.02.22.1449 eclipse, &c

my three months in the oakland pit were mostly miserable. but my one-plus month here at home has more than made up for it. i've gotten more done in that time than i did in most of last year, and spent a lot of money doing it. the Universe has been pouring wonderful surprises on me - free stuff everywhere, dozens of new friends and co-conspirators, inspiration, high-quality photographs and a cold six-pack of Red Stripe yesterday morning.

the eclipse was amazing, spent among the fine company of the few truly amazing humans who call this place home. all at once there was a technicolor sunset, a lunar eclipse and two hot zones out in the Chocolate Mountain Gunnery Range. it was windy, but only enough to spice up the evening. the chocolate cheesecake was heavenly.

i'll have some new pics up soon on the East Jesus page....stay tuned....sorry for the radio silence; i've just been too damn busy to blog.


2008.02.03.2115 three men

the zones are open - you are waiting - man moves his hand - you look - comes taking in the scene - movement - you watch - he's melting into the gravel - he's got your wrists - screaming at you - what you're doing is worthless - it's dark - a fire - quiet - mind jerking into overlap - seen this before - growing up out of your memory - he's digging - waving his knife at a stranger - why not? - pop won, one pop - art academy for psychopaths - all the same it smells here - worthless.

he keeps creeping around after dark, looking for his friend he thinks is here. he's too stupid to realize he'll get killed, eventually, doing that. the dogs know he's nuts. they growl and show their teeth. he's oblivious.

it's him and god is love - show up early to be alone - no bloody skulls on the mountain - just him and burning plastic and god is love.









asynchronology II ( blog)

asynchronology I (before anyone even used the term blog)