haunts

2011-12-15T08:17:00.000-08:00

a piece i made that was part of the 'new trails' exhibition in the wissahickon park area in philadelphia, pa. it uses field recordings made in and about the wissahickon valley with the aim of creating a narrative in sound that travels between the park's 18th century occult history and its 19th century industrial demise and subsequent revival. http://newtrailsphila.org/

2011-12-02T09:06:00.000-08:00

"ruralphonics" (2011)
ted houghtaling

2011-11-22T10:33:00.001-08:00

"plam" (2011)
ted houghtaling

2011-11-21T09:22:00.000-08:00

"tickles" (2011)
ted houghtaling

2011-11-14T20:35:00.000-08:00

2011-11-13T07:59:00.001-08:00

2011-10-10T13:35:00.000-07:00

cover design for my first book, a collection of writings from 2008 - 2011.

2011-10-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

"little saunas" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

"the ten thunderclaps" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

"arc" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-28T10:30:00.000-07:00

"blink trance" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-28T10:26:00.000-07:00

"three currents" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

"tombs" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-09-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

"cinnamon trance" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-21T07:55:00.000-07:00

via 50watts

2011-08-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

SILT

VOL. 6.5

CUT-UP FROM OIN RACETRACK TO CHICHALEUMUIEYINA:

Found seven requirements. IM will all fit. Game. Curves west. Diluted substances, such as development, archaeologists study tours to wait and oil blocks. One thousand nodes. Centuries of recorded forest area in the water, I will take you to their IA record of this behavior is not serious I IM invisible angel old winner. Affect the application of the test century experiments in four fried night. Brush, but when he heard the Pasha of water, health, and their greetings. Become irridescent process never invisible sand. Are very different. Street hypnosis hostile work in the past. That Hello, this changes the hell knows. Random stone is not a new racetrack down Roach, fish, and provide different types of darkness. Thus began a little out of seven fish were re-omniblast you this heart of Rome, but it is a small dark OIN resolve their differences in archeology. Few outside the room to complete as a normal person. Copy run king and forests and neon lights reflected in the cold ice.We shade the roof oil 2. Time lost. Whole cumin no worms? Medieval thought flashing red face. Given the current and tanks. The second game will be natural to fossil human blood, a form of experimental fire "on Tuesday, as the star of some of King's Marsh, to the neck, if all the rivers in the monitoring of the undercurrent ... stragglers bone planet ... lower limit on the floor lost my dream ... ... 10,000 teachers shut down .. do not forget the natural color of the topsoil to be closed in India, also forgot to record the color of the original ... "way out! Curve, animatronic good start this close to them. Clouds, thunder, one in the south appear. In the middle of. specificially. Not visible in the coming darkness. The valley beyond. Garbage is a policy, a few of the ocean, a hole. Interdisciplinary friends at night, we issued a yellow test. one specificially. Out. No. City model, the Witch: New World species of the ancient prayer of the face of the neck. Shadow prophet. Good. I took the raw materials. "Angel praying, until the racecourse River Forest and Bird's face and form, we believe that the great dream of the sea witch shadow children ... you know the salt, the same, our secret, but this place into a room, OIN redWild Planet talc diluted salt to track back a few western region of the ear ... ... too dark racetrack healthy forest balcony facing the best multi-dimensional, like irrigation to speak. Do you see the Install right to refuse to say hello nopressure on parents to provide units of dust. happiness, our security protocol character from the beginning to the implementation of the fossil or living OIN fennel journey led to some of the marsh sediment deposition read off the water to seep into the sea ... almost forgot a terrible experience before God. energy to the west .. forget the way shadow report on the neon lights create a balcony century, the river .. see the Milky Way, the brothers left many hyperactuality see this, start the main body music .. is a bit like and dark, nothing is needed. memories, then drastic action, the breast, the definition of the future world is not flat curve is the size of the shadow of the edge of the tail. the content of darkness will be irrigated. blue chest, only the royal family to complete solar power , history and more, the desert, but we have the red and the shadow of the medieval core of people who have never started the nature of this country the least natural light in the form of tears. .. invisible spot of salt waste streams listed stragglers IM seed the ocean, We are not limited to omniblast room boundary, residents COM memories. and, ultimately, hell, and in this case, the aesthetic decline even cry .. the green, then this country as their peak recording current of the river want to leave , the music player. characters, and some types of light granite .. fire all hyperactuality trason choice. .. We see the river. undercurrent forgotten this track. a much more air with the front speakers of the breast shadow the new energy spectrum of the road before dark, player, board. saw the surrounding forest and fossil track music again wouldn'T you you I was cleared. AI circuits around the track, I have several wizard.'s stunning west Rosa is my desire for control Under Green, if not in this incredible black granite in the atmosphere of a secret friend .. .. ice stragglers unexpected problems is the reader's garbage in this false case, we can not see the magician .. . ... in the dark period Chirico multi-dimensional, the energy we have different forests ... ... not a big music salt seven forest types, installed in the low-energy light air wakefullness grave. WRITE edge random and in the shadow of this man .. what about the Potter's, this time from the boundary question between the songs and their OL is still young and Orange Farm Lake beach, taste the way now, in the past .., fire board, just began to adapt ... IM's impact will be so fast on the harmful things to know.. unnatural music into the desert sand in wakefullness the same energy into the glass ... ... re-adjustment is not natural, not like that in Rome , a new start anything like the nature of the soil in winter to see this ... tip with some clouds in the Galaxy and the state, with wild dark ages. ... all ideas are listened to magic ... I The hell of the Middle Ages until waiting for the right speakers, forget the memories ... some of the recent meeting of the St. Ⅱ slot, he is willing, in the valley area outside the children of God once again, children wear a dust ... archaeologists that early dark and wild dancing, listening to the results of my friends ... this time in the old gray ... then good old auits tourist signs to music. look at the scene of granite face of the new dance called the South face ... ... the dark balcony set fire under the ice are doing, and my jeans and interdisciplinary accoustomed if you want, because the river of energy thinking and limit the energy security and animals .. my hall floor . full of mercury and a variety of fossils in this light, bone and red signs ice cream brethren surprise to monitor the country's archaeologists to measure and reflect on the main road past the gods of the rat hot days to hear .. 1432 .. noggin This year we irridescent blue face, a couple of fennel complex whole patch of grass next report, friends of the forest outside the hot water in the region of small AA latest Red Galaxy great life, and the description of the grass and Sediment back .... " The roar of the curve, swamp ST. I ckel. The part of the Nelda place. Unit to keep the valley a clear and proud. The black farmers, we Lauren deep. Lasso diameter logueness four. Face the back of 10 000 young people came here as a young line. Tank

2011-08-16T08:14:00.000-07:00

SILT

VOL. 6

"THE OIN RACETRACK
forests host a drunken dream. track star of the abyss. the best apocalyptic glory, which is quite a long time, almost eternal. death, for example has three heads. one white, one black, one red. as i tripped off a pebble i fell into the grotto below, dank and fragrant. through the darkness i see a small forest, facing the valley of salt so that the black tank faces due west. the seeds of this space. and soon we shall all wear the sacred ash fossils around our neck and dance in the fire again. search for fossils the size of this screen with ears as hot as most can be. a black unit has a distinct look of the feral creatures down south. neon lights, the roar of the people, and for one moment, clarity and unity. children of the sun thirst, yes. after the change in the past from the swamp grass we see new road signs installed on the highway. and pasha, the king of the highway heard the track sessions, "villa, emptying the heart shine. with pride. wild is the seed of the cloud sands of blue chirico howling." and so the games began. the blue waters of the Congo OIN racetrack forest floor began to rumble for the lost souls of the planet. the ground laden with salt. black sun blight for 2,000 years to the loser. nelda glow version for the winner. come at last and see the great fossil of the past, potter maud. it's not like the illustrations. this is something to crawl out into flesh space for. the character of the land and the character of the sea, drawn from archaeological into the darkness forever lost. record imagings ing process begins anew for this. new fossils. new sediment. 10,000 men to secure the room does not make invisible the tomb room air next to his brother smothered in talcum powder. this is a trip to the paleocene we will not soon forget. archaeologists in the wilderness take measurements again and wait in the brush for the read outs. frozen combs, tombs. forgotten kings, forgotten wizards: volume 2. making his journey into the thousand, the mud between her breasts, actual fuel lifts the filter dust. i live the way you listen to some dust. im on the edge of a green impact. angels listed below with masses of people to see. several layers of ice in here and i pray i made that prayer right earlier. "tuesday, unnatural in description". replication for many years. lauren urban landscape forms on the ice inland so that no water comes out. ink, roach, the streets of my refrigerator. the journey around the world is my process and not the boundry. not too busy insects? come out! HELLO!? invisible to some. find hot little orange cowboy scurrying about with his lasso and tail. all the colors of the sea, great and full of glossy reflections. the thirst of flour will give you a face, sorcerer. left fake speakers for the archaeologists to sound in the sand. psychic energy comes their necks. fish the river Main. spirit of 1432. remember the good and great grass, st. get us out of hell. warming us from this specialist music in the sane. remember you are on the ground floor. fossil glass hummingbird. desire to collect cosmic rust. settles into place and in the room we hear gold and green quiet little music. rosa nature animals hear about OIN racetrack. once again, the impact of the omniblast causes some to disappear into willow mercurial history. settlement name for the stragglers. marsh access continent. flash the oil lobby a little light to let them know this is the outpost. go back to fossil fuels. the sea and rivers of blood, the life of cowboys in a universal player, grimacing in the dark. the painted desert Com. the river was queit in the face with water behind me. the black curve of trason raging against content. the next step, though im not a pilot - may occur in the provinces. look there for future happenings and trends. tank size, give a person a hologram. wild species. hello, to fish in the river and to the black rats that allow us to howl. greetings.
fennel the four. bleached greek shadow on gray yellow granite. person not river. obsessed gods. old shadow deep. more dark than before. surface different. feeling different. epcot irrigation, animatronic farmers tilling the fields for humans not yet living. watering the roots. the red fast of the black spectral am region of the dial reads different. in a dark red balcony i heard the thunder of god. night sickel. in the vineyard i saw god's old still seven dream. round friends. the sky old. seven old lagoons speckled with skeletal birds. the surface of words with roots deep. bricks. buttons. thunder. roman dust. black spectrum sediment undertow. the roof of the stars. sediment god, singing spectral.
night began like it did the previous day. time in memorial. that my parents chose to tell the stories they did seemed natural and fitting. i wouldn't call it conditioning, but the similarities between my current occupation and the experiences chosen for me and the things i was exposed to lead me to believe that they were not haphazard in their selection. and so tonight i face another closed black shadow as the last light in my room is extinguished. pieces of thoughts begin to form in the dark and the color begin to swirl in my periphery. night color, not the ones you're accustomed to in the day time. a circle, a curve, and jagged line. close to music, but never exact. even the most ghostly of sounds have form. these don't. after an hour or so, as wakefulness turns to hypnagogic, a complete hunting face takes over and burns away the forms of consciousness. destroy history, the centuries previous, and brick by brick new things begin to take shape. an invisible diluted net if there was any shape analogousness to what i then saw. iridescent, out the frame, even outside the periphery, outside of the narrow 360 band. we were finally there, while another one began to form on the horizon. we would refuse time and these things came to us for all to see. sun ships, same age, but different. bird bird up there, edge of time for a young galaxy, some kind of black if i were to chose a color. hyperactuality, multi-dimensional, the extraction of a transparent hue was all i had left. aesthetic degradation of the senses. familiar artificial, a man destined to see little and if he was lucky, grasp some more. an unexpected room to reorient, places and objects that touch on some memory, but the sort attributed to my people, not me specifically. what they think i want to see. auits aopalette board, large fennel good. a hint of hostility and curiosity on their part. silent, no pressure, soak. soak. boundaries, representation, early music. keys opened, mysteries unlocked and displayed before me as easy as multiplication and fractions. basic solutions to what i thought were incredibly complex problems that required multiple lifetimes of context and cross-disciplinary and cross-generational think tanks. but no, all here in the ol noggin was all i required. report of decomposition terrible television, development, coal policy, medieval memory, mineral exhaustion, wind action and magic. all the other winters we sat huddled by the fire hoping that some thing would deign to lower from heaven and save us all and sing the Music."

2011-08-08T19:14:00.001-07:00

"We all dreamed of womb-ships, antechambers for birth into other dimensions; we dreamed of whore-ships driven by the semen of our passionate ejaculations. The invincible and castrating rocket carrying our vengeance to the icy heart of a treacherous sun; humming-bird ornithopters which fly us to sip the ancient nectar of the dwarf stars giving us the juice of eternity. Yes! But far more than that: angelic splendour! We dreamed of caterpillar-tracked hotrods so vast that their tails would disappear behind the horizon. We saw ourselves enmeshed in these huge masses hurtling a dizzy train of planets from a dark world bound for a galaxy drowned in starry milk. We saw ourselves inside minute ether–dwelling sharks crossing seven thousand universes in one Terrene second, leaving a sound-wake freezing into a trail of hallucinatory pearls. Trains to carry away the whole of humanity; machines greater than suns wandering crazed and rusted, whimpering like dogs seeking a master. And great wings sucking the marrow of comets. And thinking wheels hidden behind meteorites, waiting, camouflaged as metallic rocks, for a drop of life to pass through those lost galactic fringes to slake thirsty tanks with psychic secretions." Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1977.

2011-08-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

"listening post" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-06T19:36:00.000-07:00

"the ones i brought" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-06T18:23:00.000-07:00

"past the holy city" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-05T09:59:00.000-07:00

"the yellow magician" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

"wood worms" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-08-04T09:51:00.000-07:00

"emarujonbaburu" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-06-06T09:47:00.000-07:00

SILT

VOL. 5

"the ancient world perhaps never existed, but there's no doubt that we have dreamt it" - fellini

an invasion of earth that already happened 5 million years ago.

precrambrian-ocean-mural-memory-touchstone informs the the black-lit room where the perspective was highlighted with a bright green ink. in the corners sat an array of disused animatronics, the gears and servos rusted and worn away. walking in the dark i could have sworn i felt the brush of his mechanical hand on the nape of my neck. after a brief glance from his single wax eye, he nodded and went about his buisness slumped against the others. when i looked down at my hand i saw he had left me a small, panting red creature.

my thoughts turn to the builders of ancient eras, who dream of cities gleaming in the deserts, built high above the beasts and monsters who roam its perimeters. but know this; there are also cities, fewer in numbers these days, that dream of people. the leprosy of time, dipped in the river of time, the corruption, the decay that makes everything more ambiguous, indecipherable, obscure, and thus full of enchantment. necropolises, gleaming thread bare, tiers upon tiers of bleached boned spires, decayed corpses arrayed in arched contortions in order to allow the walls of the building to grow higher and higher. the seasons turn deafening mild in these parts. crows bark like peripheral phantoms, their croaking bounching between two valleys, a type of music viewed from multiple perspectives. at the edge of the forest you find a priesthood of the dark god, now sadly extinct. our flashlights showed the way and spotted a few luminescent eyes in the dark. quick to appear and quick to disappear. our eyes see in the night, above sight can be heard "fogbanks of surface noise"

folk traditions

opener of roads

the witch of hissing hill

ghosts who take drugs to go haunting

archaeologist study little music dawn morning range station hum.

in the sanctuary of the church, the local priest would carry out a nightly ritual where he would lower his collection of bejewelled animals into a well and fish them out the next morning. a menagerie of bejewelled animals, carved from native gems and minerals found during the voyage of the wooden ship with yellow sails. then he would array them on the floor of his study and watch them slowly come to life. a couple minutes would go by and the dancing would begin.

"THE WOODEN SHIP"

living in a horizonless sea

the smell of brine soaked into our vestments,

though no one would mistake us for men of the cloth.

the only respite we had was beneath the decks

to find our books giving off a faint glow in the dark

their spines painted yellow

some an eggshell blue

others an emerald green.

but in the cabin boy's cubby

next to the one porthole with the queasy monochrome view

was tucked a faded and peeling volume

with an image of some old world jester on its cover

lost now to a distant accident

the kind no one has to worry about now.

ochre memory, european diseases

of black forests

wandering songs

and children huddled in churches

waiting out the plague

amidst peat fires

seen in distant hills.

the pen would soon come,

bringing symbols & towns,

a step from the dark into the light of the mind

close but invisible

and distant still

2011-05-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

"what the thunder said" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-20T11:58:00.000-07:00

"leichenflugbahn" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

(a submission for 50 watts' Polish Book Cover Contest where contestants design the Polish edition of their favorite book in the surrealist style that was popular in Eastern European book design from the 1930s-60s. I chose 'Children of Dune' by Frank Herbert.)

ted houghtaling (2011)

2011-05-15T06:05:00.001-07:00

"ley lines" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-12T09:53:00.000-07:00

"tattie bogle" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

"air tunnels" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-11T17:11:00.000-07:00

"my purple world" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-09T14:56:00.000-07:00

"gob gub bog" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-09T14:02:00.000-07:00

"first smolder, then ash" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

"mushroom hunting moon" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-09T10:25:00.001-07:00

"roman baths" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-08T07:49:00.001-07:00

courtesy roy arden blog

2011-05-05T19:48:00.001-07:00

"waiting out the plague" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-03T17:04:00.001-07:00

"cryptoforest" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-03T16:47:00.000-07:00

"rainbow afghanistan" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-03T16:20:00.000-07:00

"wandering song" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-03T15:40:00.000-07:00

"burial customs" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

"the house was quiet and so was i" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-05-02T09:46:00.001-07:00

2011-04-30T21:04:00.001-07:00

"pink silo theater" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-04-27T09:34:00.000-07:00

electronic bedroom wallpaper

2011-04-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

"garbage garden" (2010)

ted houghtaling

2011-04-25T07:41:00.000-07:00

"middle countries" (2011)

ted houghtaling

2011-04-24T15:45:00.000-07:00

2011-04-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

SILT

VOL. 4

AVENUE OF THE GOBLINS

'evocation machine'

dancing fish exploring an empty cicada shell at the bottom of a lake.

an empty vale bemoans the coming of autumn.

fading cinnabar tombs of forgotten wizards. these are a people who no longer believe in ghosts.

library room meter would burn in a haunted ship. keep one ear open while it sinks. feel free to close it when the process is just about done. you'll know when the filter kicks in.

faces grimace, we look, we return, we describe as best we can.

heard below tendrils of how pop one works ancient ice, oh, there monochrome horizon boys are the envy of the north, the key, the poem, all levers and pulleys controlling the hidden knots of the supernatural. these cave creatures know it's coming, running up the walls of museums papered with an inlaid forest. i heard hunting parts museum exhibitions the early (variant) navigating recessive rooms. one yellow, the other mauve, another a dark shade of green.

home the purple alights on the patterns, concentrating a longing focus spread across some integral switch. if it happens twice lying on your bed try blinking left to right, left to right, then right again, and one more time in reverse. through the trees to climb the ladder on the dreams of a passing wind, silently searching the reeds of the riverways & streams, tall grasses, turning corners, finding its way back around the world.

ground bed, electronic flats

buried poems touching all roads and lanes. of the sounds, airless, birdless, where blue meets black. hilter brewery soak, creek mills, pale filters, lantern gloom. mountain smithey. cork barrels. the glen below the vale.

the things try to use words, the earth, things I actually word fingers, blinks.

lips creaking is a music for pieces and arranges a peculiar melody, sighing musicians yawn and sleep on horizonless fields before a restless crowd. the familar wind parade, a little closer this time, more far than near, though. he wakes up underneath the first known silence of the world.

simple sounds with hauntology relate ear to the presence, vapors, reverberations, fragments longing reverie outskirts, memory pack rats in the middle countries.

yelts on the io.

electronic concept memories imaging press hardware entries forms of cistern travelles, mediums, conduits.

container test-landscapes 1.6km long orbital dwelling estates. visionary infrastructure, unearthly antarctica plant autobiographies, aeroplanes to utopia sea gardens encased in green glass. psychoacoustic geometry of the middle passage. air insects could be giants if the air might reign again. africa garden mali surfaces loss machine utopia map carbonia house walks futures, rings influence windows objects ants oceans in space. wreck rebellion over the sun.

MICE_BEAST_TOWER_TOMBS

sky song, hand word, black cloud. palace theater. stereo landscape. kudzu-seeds. memorizing the cosmos. secret of the reef. early bathysphere expeditions. roman fog. decline of fog-hunting. fog farms. witchcraft soundtracks.ruins of gallego flour, glowing fronds lining the perimeter of where the village used to be. haunted electronics. alabaster soak.

chalk outlines of model miniature lanscapes.

2011-04-22T18:53:00.000-07:00

roedelius & conrad schnitzler

2011-04-19T17:00:00.001-07:00

lyonel feininger - wee willie winkie's world (1906)

2011-04-16T19:50:00.000-07:00

2011-04-14T18:52:00.001-07:00

"CHROMATIC CANON"

1.) boards of canada - opening of the moutb

2.) rapoon - hollow flight

3.) the caretaker - false memory syndrome

4.) brian grainger - untitled 2

5.) atlas sound - saturday night we went swimming and there was a light in the water

6.) fabio orsi - find electronica (part 1 excerpt)

7.) krzysztof orluk - beautiful mind

8.) philip jeck - wipe (excerpt)

9.) biosphere - dissolving clouds

10.) microstoria - flexen

MIXED BY TED

2011-04-04T06:41:00.000-07:00

spirit hall

2011-04-02T18:19:00.000-07:00

"trees full of invisible birds" (2011)
ted houghtaling

2011-04-01T17:21:00.000-07:00

TIRISFAL GLADES 7"

. . .

SIDE A: IN PEACE: "BELL MAKERS"

SIDE B: IN WAR: "CANNON MAKERS"

2011-04-01T17:19:00.000-07:00

2011-03-04T20:30:00.000-08:00

DRONES OF THE WORLD: VOLUME 4
"EASTERN & WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA"

SIDE A:

1.) More Thunder, So She's On Buriruzukurippingu Peak
2.) Willow, Wind and Water
3.) All Small Memories

SIDE B:

1.) No Strange Smells and Most Gentle

2.) First, Purple, Brown, Then Brown Again

3.) Encounter At Vel Satis

2011-02-07T08:18:00.000-08:00

SILT

VOL. 3

urban stalagtites stagger across the crag. the milk shudders under a passing wind, bringing a few more to the lime burner. men without bones and other haunting inhabitants of the wide, weird world. drawling falls onto pocket fin faces, the murlocks, oh we know of them in the blue and the dark in the underwater caves with the islands in the inky black. chomp waters for the red head girl. rushes things and i know better. a year ago maybe, but now no. horny freckles get the better of me. willows, winds and waters. pockets form rivers which dance under a breezy sun. ho ho ho, i love the snow. japanese gentlemen stand up please, do not speak of the little known bremen cluster across ports unknown. increasing in length, its forward compartment appeared to us as a small thimble blister and we all fell to the grasses to hear the small music of the earth. press the ear against the ground and hear the sound of the earth rotating: crag crimple and tim thimble. thumble, thimble, thamble, drumble, droblo, have those who flew in the immediate vicinity heard the passing vibrations emanating from the blue planet? capture them with this box, then give up the ghost. piece o crumb on me mouth. that is mars, you know. that little white speck up there. kind of red, isn't it? a bit of a hue around the edges. more so the thunderclap, the clipping brills on her beek. like i didn't know already that ducks could shed tears. i mean, come on, discussing the ethics of centaur slavery on a bench atop a goblin workship. the virtual world seen to the horizon, but rendered as we go, spaces slightly infinite. bunker mansion. manageable future."the last epic of a world beleaguered by eternal night and by the unvisageable spawn of darkness" - the night land "lost in a haunted wood" -auden treavers and traumas: nostalgia for the future. that inevitable doubt that begins to slink its way around my bedroom at night. crawls up under the carpet to slither around at my feet. hunched over my sleeping body. the trees, the trees, beware of these. the plinks of liquid dropping in my bedroom basin. the spring and the autumn resonators. bring me the copper one and the brass one. to find the right frequency. the 60hz hum. the crackle pops of the 1200hz range, where the land turns to green and black. dimensions hollow, proportions minimal. complex ideas rendered to simple lines and dots. truly, the night world, the night world, the night world inside my machine. the misty moor beginner poem. all ideas have their beginning in these kernels. these bitter little shells containing the juicy fruit within, squeezed between my tightly clenched fist. bear with me here. oh, hold on, i swear i have a point. darting, pushing, can you follow these patterns, do they have a traceable trajectory from your vantage? can you triangulate it or something? all i see is the meandering chaos; the byproduct of a mind who has trouble constructing something meaningful. ah! maybe you got me. but a little burnishing and we'll be fine.

2011-01-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

bathroom sequence courtesy the art of memory courtesy kubrick

2011-01-20T21:35:00.000-08:00

SILT
VOL. 2

rrender unto the deep that which belongs below. helephant seal into wit brick mon ne sham beat near the brow of the second quit. i vel to thank upon its neary neck. wither was want, and withers spell vespers for early break in morn. check the cows the paddies the locks, pasture care for thy flock and herd the stragglers near the paddock night. above a weary light sat a shelf of books, wormy and read. the candle drips, the thoughts linger, and the orange lit casts funny shadows along the contors of the walls. the pecks, the holes, the uneven coat gives hairy texture to what is already a beast. now a mont, i have to use words with you. new words to describe the ineffable. and why not. wit wem weper tint try tadder trays lining soup, the sheath, the emulsion bubble, the brown smears and cardboard squares drip and stain the fingers. first brown, now purple, then brown again. vapors reach the light, the bright light, small sun explosions etching shapes onto the canvas surface. hiroshimas without death. linger light. light linger. i now deign to kiss his chubby cheek, a big wet one, liquid lip stains, both clear and clem. sail with crystal sheeths for our daggers gold. careful with that crown, it bears the irreplaceable mark of our lord, that of his only material gift unto this plane. i spy horizontal brown and vertical pines. different climes there, i reckon, his mind wanders, he calls this practice, but easy to get caught up, infinite loop vortex. watch out for those, but please dont pull out comparisons between fun and loathing. i call this fun, yet somewhere, someone or somethought is causing it to be otherwise. the quadrants of the mind. where does loathing lie? nothing lye? dusty shelves, half-hearted filing system left unfinished, unkempt work spaces. the dust motes flying about, catching the goldenrod beams. routine, order, discipline, the names of the various games we can play. but round and around, what defines work and what defines play? self-congratulatory jobs completed, ingrained pats on the back, what we call buisness, what we can ever so easily set aside and discover different lights of life. i feel at home with these green letters and black background. improvised zork. a zork of my own creation: heliopheric tales of zim and zound! the mascerade of the limp life cat. bubbles called dreams. meliotronic aspirations of the malevolent zooch. tell time to ease up on us. life liven and dreams driven. minor spells for young lovers. major spells for forgotten youths. children of the stars and children of the spaces in between. hollering for beginners. looking down at my hand, i beheld a panting red. i fell upon a stylish reptile and he taught me the ways of fashion. the brood and you. fall between the cracks and see. be careful, he's behind you. be careful, his ears are made of crystal. be careful, he caries a hand of flame. be careful, his fingers resemble little oceanic cruise vessels and the rear blades are in full operating condition. be careful the lime giant bearing gifts. tassles and tales to bent and stutter as we don the rainbow afgan around our shoulders. it provides the necessary nostalgia and security in our huddled reading-chair pose. the symmetry of good thought. in the street below light takes the place of shadows, only to slip back into the darkness. the heroes of the ancient and prehistoric worlds. we lived in a time when those who dared to venture outside the safety of the camp fire would conquer the unknown and bring back unheard of riches. outside, he would encounter an eclectic beastiary of demons, gods, monsters and other supernatural forces. he would bring home stories, which grew in proportion with each telling, eventually becoming the heroic legends we remember from childhood with the shadows crawling and tugging on his nighttime walls. dusk. vespers. light. pride his filth, you must pardon for he spends his days by the docks with the brimmed shrimp and little encrustations that form alongside the boat hulls. a smell to my noise, most moist and queer and yet here in the new world i spell vapors of the old one, of long voyages to and fro bringing the old with the new and new with the old, you get my point.

2011-01-18T20:35:00.000-08:00

"NIGHT MUSIC"

beware the groan barks

the witch grass pummel foot.

the sea ghosts.

the secret pulleys and levers

up there where we throw the ingots into the fire

before they lose their golden core.

they glow white in the embers, then blue.

darkness pits lit by the gold & red flash

blue deeps, taps, and stormsfelt, buttons, corduroy, wooden shoes, licorice rivers, honeypot eyes, yellow caps with blue stitching, little scenes of life in miniature.

the sacred spaces of my youth.

2010-11-08T08:50:00.001-08:00

water mountain

2010-09-20T07:00:00.001-07:00

augustin lesage
"a symbolic composition of the spiritual world" (1923)

2010-09-19T08:28:00.001-07:00

2010-09-19T08:27:00.001-07:00

2010-09-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

2010-09-19T08:17:00.001-07:00

2010-09-19T08:14:00.001-07:00

2010-09-19T07:55:00.000-07:00

karl wirsum

and here

2010-09-16T09:42:00.001-07:00

2010-09-16T09:39:00.001-07:00

sound forest

2010-09-16T08:19:00.000-07:00

anne laplantine

2010-09-16T08:15:00.000-07:00

2010-09-16T07:58:00.000-07:00

2010-09-16T07:35:00.000-07:00

2010-08-10T13:44:00.001-07:00

"doleful and drat" (2010)
ted houghtaling

2010-08-09T09:30:00.001-07:00

SILT

VOL. 1

early memories: wormy wood, doleful air hangs over the temple walls, strands of hair taped with sweat to our brows. the willow weeps, maude mourns, and the cypresses sup under a sun made black owing to the croaking gloom by the swamp. old aquariums left to ruins along its banks. we go out onto the abandoned stage looking over the estuary and we set up our props and actors. but as far as i can go, always we return to the neon green and black room. i remember the circular enclosure in which we read our books, on fifties visions of the future, our possible lives in space, the herbariums in the rotating cyclinders where we walked on the walls to water the ceiling ferns and grofths. the man in the mask who rounded the turbine hallway wielding a knife. waving it round, but i never saw his eyes, his true madness. it was left up to me, to use the green gator as the signpost to find my way back to my crippled mother at the abandoned food court. occasionally, a pagan god would appear on the foothpath to work, festooned with gold, ivory and fur and proportions stretched to the four corners of the fields. here we were, soaked in gauzy light, the edges blurred in whites and beiges, back then again, before i got here, where i saw the darkened rooms with illuminated display cases. there were old childrens books that came to life with immaculately handcrafted puppets and miniature men & animals. felt, buttons, coudoroy, wooden shoes, licorice rivers, honeypot eyes, yellow caps with blue stitching, little scenes of villages brimming with machinisme & artificial life. hurrying about, busying themselves with tasks they performed by clockwork at the start of every day. i went from one display case to the next and watched the dancing bear at play under panes of glass. looking below. life in miniature. dolphins, legos, crystalized men, rubies, sapphires, emeralds. we can never go back. why i am attracted to old auditoriums & concert halls. after the teachers go home the imaginary audience appears. the museum of shellached dinosaurs. the bones are painted red, blue and green. did i imagine that or actually live it? white gallery spaces on the riverfront. pulleys and levers, and giant doors that serve no practical function. favorite wings of tmonh in no particular order. the hologram primate, the giant mosquito, the dark depths. the hall of giant reptiles at the crystal palace. then back further to a white wall.

2010-07-19T08:15:00.000-07:00

james joyce describes ten varying sounds of thunderclaps in 'finnegans wake'

the first: bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk

the second:
Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurthrumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun

the third:
klikkaklakkaklaskaklopatzklatschabattacreppycrottygraddaghsemmihsammihnouithappluddyappladdypkonpkot

the fourth:
Bladyughfoulmoecklenburgwhurawhorascortastrumpapornanennykocksapastippatappatupperstrippuckputtanach

the fifth:
Thingcrooklyexineverypasturesixdixlikencehimaroundhersthemaggerbykinkinkankanwithdownmindlookingated

the sixth:
Lukkedoerendunandurraskewdylooshoofermoyportertooryzooysphalnabortansporthaokansakroidverjkapakkapuk

the seventh:
Bothallchoractorschumminaroundgansumuminarumdrumstrumtruminahumptadumpwaultopoofoolooderamaunsturnup

the eigth:
Pappappapparrassannuaragheallachnatullaghmonganmacmacmacwhackfalltherdebblenonthedubblandaddydoodled

the ninth:
husstenhasstencaffincoffintussemtossemdamandamnacosaghcusaghhobixhatouxpeswchbechoscashlcarcarcaract

and the tenth:
Ullhodturdenweirmudgaardgringnirurdrmolnirfenrirlukkilokkibaugimandodrrerinsurtkrinmgernrackinarockar

2010-06-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

"dust & fog" (2010)
ted houghtaling

download here

2010-06-10T14:59:00.000-07:00

"moat throat" (2010)
ted houghtaling + dolphins into the future

2010-06-10T07:40:00.001-07:00

"sniffer" (2010)
ted houghtaling

2010-02-22T17:26:00.000-08:00

^ Memory by elna frederick.

2010-02-12T17:58:00.001-08:00

"fever night" (2010)
ted houghtaling

2010-02-06T09:17:00.001-08:00

"murmurings" (2010)
ted houghtaling

2009-12-16T18:10:00.001-08:00

"malfred springs" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-12-15T10:04:00.001-08:00

"As each meteor produced a trail of ionized gases, it produced an extremely short-lived ionospheric "placebo," ricocheting radio waves back to Earth."

(((((((((((((((((((((((((listen))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

2009-12-07T18:28:00.001-08:00

2009-12-07T18:06:00.001-08:00

"fossil apparition" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-12-01T11:06:00.001-08:00

"chemo cafe" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-11-22T16:05:00.001-08:00

"face dancers" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-11-19T17:11:00.000-08:00

museum staff cleaning elephant skin (1933)
american museum of natural history pictures archive

2009-11-19T17:06:00.000-08:00

2009-11-19T15:10:00.001-08:00

"day filter" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-11-10T13:17:00.001-08:00

"dust vespers blight (ver. 2)" (2009)
ted houghtaling

2009-10-31T22:34:00.000-07:00

MIX 04 - CHROMATIC CANON

1.) rapoon - hollow flight
2.) the caretaker - false memory syndrome
3.) brian grainger - untitled 2
4.) atlas sound - saturday night we went swimming
5.) fabio orsi - find electronica (part 1)
6.) krzysztof orluk - beautiful mind
7.) philip jeck - wipe
8.) microstoria - flexen

download

2009-10-30T18:26:00.001-07:00

2009-10-28T20:52:00.001-07:00

"dust vespers blight" (2009)
ted houghtailng

2009-10-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

MIX 03 - "MUSIC TO SHOP BY"

1.) laurie johnson - happy-go-lucky
2.) charles williams - workroom
3.) alec gould - main street
4.) dominic frontiere - sophisticated
5.) richard harvey - reach for the stars
6.) k. palmer - shopping spree
7.) alan perry - gay time
8.) ivor slaney - window gazing
9.) john longmire - turkey trot
10.) eddie thomas & his orchestra - park lane stroll
11.) john selley & william loose - fashion fox trot
12.) frank samuels - hollywood holiday
13.) k. palmer - holiday playtime
14.) john seeley & william loose - light movement #1
15.) roger roger - pleasure drive
16.) j. beaver - workaday world

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