Category: Frank’s writings (Page 2 of 5)

Posters, vigilante

Hello,

You may or may not be aware of a local Berkeley Vigilante who goes around pulling down your posters. His name is Jim Sharp and he’s the inspiration for our upcoming documentary, “Vigilante Vigilante.” Sharp is also responsible for thousands of silver spray paint markings around town, from his obsessive and destructive attempts to stamp out graffiti and stickers. Sharp lives in the hills but comes down nearly every morning to stamp out what he considers “visual blight” in the busiest parts of Berkeley. He’s been doing this for over 15 years.

I am curious to hear your reaction to Sharp’s actions and would possibly like to do an interview with you. Our perspective is that he’s doing major damage to free speech in our community and we would like to stop him. We’ve tried to inspire the community to stand up against him by exposing his identity through this East Bay Express article:

http://www.eastbayexpress.com/eastbay/the-great-graffiti-war/Content?oid=1177063

Sadly, the community and the authorities don’t seem interested in doing anything about this. So, we are trying to gain allies in fighting against him–perhaps you would like to join us?

You can see more about our project here:
http://vigilantefilm.com/trailer.html

And here is a video of Sharp tearing down your posters on Telegraph Ave:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5biJ46NSPc

Thank you for your time,

Max Good
Director
www.vigilantefilm.com

* * * * *

sure, Max! I would love to be interviewed by you… Maybe on my show so I can interview you too? You would be my sole guest for the whole program. We do it as a live streaming video two+ hour show every Sunday at 8pm on our web station http://www.luver.com. We do it from our north Berkeley home. Then we will play it on b-tv, Berkeley’s cable access channel, and archive it on our site. We archive the shows at http://www.luver.com/underground/shamden.html.
Our first opening is Sunday, February fourteen.

Anyway, my guys told me about you and your film. And that video is extremely interesting. I agree with you… Especially in these days when Publications won’t list underground events. So fliering is the main way that people find out about events [and I do ask my audience how they heard about the performances]. I see fliering as a part of the press. On the other side of the coin, isn’t this nut exercising his free speech? Is it illegal to rip down fliers that don’t violate any law?

I have been fliering for forty years. I even wrote a poem about such a nut!

naked poles

by

frank moore

copyrighted, August 5, 1995

ripping paper,

revealing

the beautiful rough wood

buried

under

all
of those

littering

words,

ideas,

events,

messages,

images

of
humans

gone out

of
control,

seeking contact

right out

on the street

where anyone

and everyone

can see

and read

and get tempted,

get distracted,

get pulled

into i-don’t-know-what.

all on the telephone poles

on my avenue.

beautiful telephone poles.

so i make my rounds

pulling,

ripping,

making

our world

neat again,

making it

safe

and comfortable

and pleasant again

for tourists

and macy’s.

after all,

ideas

stapled up everywhere

are disturbing,

disquieting,

and messy.

i don’t look

or read

as i rip,

i just listen,

then pat the nude wood,

then move

on to the next pole

covered in scales

of communication

of strange communities

and subcultures

who don’t know
that there are

right and correct

channels of

communications.

buy an ad

on a bus bench,

for pete’s stake.

ever hear of the classifieds?

get a review,

you lying nixons

and funky
headshrinkers,

whatever you are!

they are probably

oily

slimy dark

so-called

beat punk

poets

writing pages

upon pages.

no sense of order

or of the correct style.

they wonder why

sensible papers

don’t list

their wailing sessions.

so they deface

my natural beautiful pole

with their crude

rude

announcements.

is your mutt lost?

check the pound.

lost child,

see the police.

but i’m getting carried away.

i leave

missing persons

and wanted posters up

as a public service.

after all,

the cops

always wink and smile…

except when i tried

to burn the disgusting
flyers off…

it got out of control…

but i will keep control.

cops

and managers of up-scale chain stores

and the city beautification committee

all smile

and wink

as i pass.

i’m their agent.

i do

what they want

until

they can pass a law.

there will be a law

because there should be one

against

this rubbish of scum.

and when that day comes,

as it surely will,

the chamber of commerce

will reward me with a
scroll,

and a grant,

and the position

of the keeper

of the poles,

complete with handcuffs

for anyone

i catch

pinning words

to nude wood.

i don’t care if it is

martin luther nailing his
protests,

robin hood posting

his demands

to the evil sheriff,

tom paine banging

his broadsides

up at every crossroads

and outside every tavern

in the land,

ben franklin plastering

his newspaper

all over towne,

the girlie
posters

by that french dwarf,

or whathaveyou?

it is not a question

of censorship

or
free speech.

we should just keep things

in their proper places,

keep neat

order!

now i’m willing to let

the real politicians

have the use of

my poles

only

during elections.

after all,

i’m american!

but the rest of the year

the poles must be nude!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

Hi Frank,

Yes, the interview sounds like fun. Two hours sounds like a long time, but if you think we can fill it, I’m game. I would probably bring along one or two of my partners to operate our camera and maybe be on the show as well. I just need to make sure that they’ll be available and then I can confirm for next Sunday.

You’re welcome to play any of our clips on your show as well.

Regarding Sharp’s free speech–yes, he is exercising free speech like everyone else, but his free speech seems to be more like the speech of a fascist censor who wants to shut up the speech that annoys him. My aim is to somehow stop him by raising community awareness of what he does. In the spirit of vigilante justice, I have restrained from approaching the police with evidence of his crimes. In fact, they are well aware of what he does and don’t seem to mind.

I believe Sharp clearly steps over the line (of the law and of morality) with the silver spray paint, some particularly egregious examples of which can be seen in this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSjvjOksvc0

Strange, your poem seems exactly written about Sharp…

Looking forward to meeting you,

Max

* * * * *

great, Max. Everybody thinks that about two hours… Before the show! But when the show is over they are shocked at how short it was! We have done dueling cameras before! Let me know when I can ink you in. I am looking forward to it!

Yes, his silver spray of private property [newspaper bins, etc.] obviously is vandalism.

I wrote that poem as a part of my public outing of a flier ripper! That is one of the things we can talk about to fill the time on the show.

you may like my below essay [written before the internet, camcorders, cell phones, the zine movement, Berkeley community public access channel, etc.] where I write about fliering.

Cultural Subversion

copyrighted 1991 Frank Moore

This will be personal. But the personal level is the key to understanding the cultural, artistic, and political movement which is taking back technology into the personal control of anyone who has something to say, something to create. It is personal technology, anarchistic technology. It is not like cable T.V. which we were told ten years ago would liberate the person by giving him intimate and direct information and communication channels … but which today is simply more channels for the money types who have always controlled the communication flowing through mass media … just more monopolized channels for passive entertainment, selling, and manipulation of information and of reality. The only exception to this is the local access channels which are kept in the closet and are always in danger of being axed by the cable company. These access channels are a part of the personal technology.

Personal technology is basically a slip up of what I have called elsewhere “the combine plot”. I took the term “combine” from the Ken Kesey novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The combine plot is a hidden dynamic system of power, control, and interest that keeps the tools of creation and of effective change out of the hands of the common people. This keeps the people powerless, keeping the power within an elite. The tools of effective change have been kept out of the hands of the common people by false rituals of education, money, and bulky expensive equipment which took a cult knowledge to operate. Added to this maze of creative blocks was the false myths about talent and the acceptable quality levels needed to reach people, acceptable quality levels below which people are trained to not watch or listen.

All of this is too abstract and philosophical. In this article, I will try to pull these issues down into the real world by using my own artistic experiences as a context. But it is important to realize at the beginning that personal technology, anarchistic technology is still technology. All technology has hidden, built-in links to the established order of isolation and fragmentation. These links can frustrate attempts to use technology to subvert the established reality. Only by being always aware of these links to isolation and fragmentation inherent in all technology, can technology be safely used as a tool of cultural subversion. This fact again banged me over the head when I was talking to a successful musician who didn’t understand why all performers do not stop touring, considering the pollution caused by traveling … and do what he does, which is do everything through telecommunications. I just said you can not touch through phones, computers, videos … and even through writing. To restore humanity to our culture by using technology, we must know and admit the limitations of that technology.

All technology is a double-edged sword. This includes the very first communication technology … writing/reading. We usually think of the invention of writing as extremely liberating. And in so many ways it was. But in so many other ways it confined humanity. For one thing, it placed a fixed linear frame of thinking within the human brain much more than spoken language had done. Moreover, writing/reading created a very exclusive elite for most of the known human history. Before writing, everyone knew the tribal language … everyone knew how to paint, sing, dance. Information flowed both between people and within time to the future through this tribal accessible language both of spoken word and of art. If information did not flow through this tribal channel, that information was lost. All of this changed when writing was invented. Now there was a channel that was not accessible to everyone, a channel that did not easily lose information. Those who could access this channel had power. Because of this, for most of recorded history, the skill of reading/writing was monopolized by the ruling elite to maintain its power. This was true even after a larger minority gained limited access to the flowing channel of writing. One of the ways the elite maintained its control was by withdrawing the important ideas … dangerous ideas … both sacred and profane, away from the common people, withdrawing the dangerous ideas into a dead language such as Latin or Greek. Only the members of the elite who went through the rituals of education of the established order (be it religious, political, and/or class) could read or speak this dead language of power. There was another channel of flowing information which was folk art, folk music, and folk words, be it written or spoken. This folk channel was accessible to everyone. It was a dynamic, interactive channel of communication. But the full force of this folk channel was always kept in check by the elite channel with the myth that anything which comes through the folk channel was not worthy or important because it did not come from the hidden knowledge.

This control by the elite did not start to break down until the printing press became cost accessible to the members of the common people. This opened to the common people a communication channel which was not rooted in physical time … that is, you write something and someone within another time, another place reads exactly what you thought. This is the real force which was unlocked by the printing press, and not the ability to reach mass amounts of people. Without the printing press being to a large degree accessible to the forces of change, the American and French Revolutions might not have happened.

But the elite quickly developed strategies to limit access for the common people to this printing channel. The elite spread the myth that to be really effective, a writer had to go through the rituals of the educational system, and then be blessed by being recognized by the publishing factory, which became increasingly massive and impersonal. Self-publishing was labeled “vanity press”. The presses that offered this service were seen as cons, as scams. Writers who used this service were thought of as untalented fools who got conned. The individual who believed in this myth of the power of the corporate media system to bestow access to communications, and to bestow validity through acceptance, was frozen out of any real position for subversive change.

All of this is an historical background on which I can talk about the issues of personal technology, anarchistic technology in the context of cultural subversion.

I started out in the late 60’s writing for underground papers as a political columnist … sneaking into the mimeograph room at school to run off a hundred copies under the protection of a friendly teacher. Of course, the teacher always, as well as us, got into hot water … and the access to the mimeograph machine was closed. No access, no underground paper. There was not any question about our buying our own mimeograph machine … no money.

But it took only a year or so for the underground press to move from the mimeograph stage into being run off at off-set print shops. The underground press had its roots going back through the radical press of the 20’s and 30’s and in the poetry press. The kind of person who put out these papers poured all their personal money into it, then hoped by selling ads, selling papers, by magic, the paper would stay afloat. There was rarely any question of making money on it. But when your nest egg, your dead aunt’s money, ads, sales, or whatever was supporting your rag ran out, that paper of visions died. But there was always a new paper being born to fill the empty space.

There was a rejection of the old standards of quality of both form and content which had kept the common people from creating. As a result of this rejection, a new way of looking at art, politics, and life was thus created. The underground press became so effective that by the early 70’s there were over 700 of these papers and an underground press network. It became so effective that the F.B.I. targeted the underground press for destruction by a covert war. By using the fact that the underground papers rarely had direct access to a printing press, and by using the organization which developed around the underground press, the F.B.I and the rest of the combine could bring the underground press into control, into the fold.

Around this time, I rejected politics as a means for effective subversive change, and began looking towards art and magic for an effective channel. I took a film-making course, learning the technical rituals of 16mm. 16mm was then the home movie technology. But when I did the technological rituals of lighting, shooting, splicing, etc., they took me away from the actual magic of doing. Hidden within these technological rituals are deadening roadblocks to direct personal creative communications. Roadblocks can be gotten around. But why bother when there are direct alternative routes?

After the film course, I still had no money to make films. One road would have been to put my time and energy into getting money or a position to make films. But I always have mistrusted the myth of changing the system from within. It never works. Once you compromised, modified, changed, distorted both yourself and your message to get the media channel, why bother sending the message? The system myth is a major vacuum that sucks creative power away from people by putting vast amounts of time between the person and the act of creation. Whether the myth is of waiting to get enough money, education, or power before you create, the effect is the same … waiting for Godot.

For these reasons, I created a no/low tech form of live performance which did not need money, theater space, sets, stage lighting, approval, or a particular audience size. This no/low tech form is vital to work which is culturally subversive by expanding the concept of sexuality and reality beyond the frame of taboos.

For me as a no/low tech artist, the personal technology, anarchistic technology is a very important dimension. I first realized this when I was trying to get established in N.Y.C. in the early 70’s. I could not find out about art events until after the fact when I read about them in THE VILLAGE VOICE. So I couldn’t go to them. So I couldn’t meet people with whom I could have gotten something going. One reason for this was there was very little flyering. In N.Y.C., organized crime has a monopoly on putting up posters. I did not realize how much no flyering isolated people until I moved to Berkeley where on every telephone pole, there were 10, 20, 30 flyers. Anyone who has an event, a group, a cause, something to say, can go to a xerox place, run off hundreds, or even thousands, of flyers and staple them up all over town. This direct two-way form of the press plugged me immediately into the community where I could do my work.

We have to start seeing flyering, be it on telephone poles or on computer bulletin boards, as a form of personal press, and as such is protected under the freedom of press. Big Brother comes in many forms from the mafia to government (down to the anti-flyer laws as part of a city’s “beautification” campaign) to corporations such as A.T.&T;. and Blockbuster Videos.

Just recently I saw the power of this direct personal press. For years I have not been able to be booked in the “alternative” performance galleries in the Bay Area for various reasons … so I put 500 “Too Controversial for the Bay Area” flyers(*) up asking for leads to spaces in which to perform. From the very first flyer we put up came three good leads into the true alternative art scene. Moreover, the flyer directly exposed the true condition of the established “alternative” art world.

This direct exposing is one of the strengths of the personal technology, anarchistic technology in the context of cultural subversion. Be it a camcorder capturing police brutality or a xerox zine publishing radical heretofore unpublishable material, the effect is to decentralize power, putting it into the personal level. I noticed this again last year when Senator Jesse Helms targeted me for investigation for my art. With only one exception, no one from the regular press contacted me to get my reaction or story. Some of the art magazines printed my open letter to Helms and my article on censorship. But I reached a wide national audience when THE SPIRITUAL REVOLUTIONARY (TSR), a newsletter zine by S/R PRESS, printed both. While TSR has a small readership, other zines reprinted my two pieces from TSR, without my permission but without editing. Then still other zines reprinted the material from those zines. The effect of this anarchistic grapevine of xerox zines is I had exposure to a wide national audience which was made up of small subcultures.

The combine recognizes the uncontrollable force represented by the direct personal communications through the anarchistic technology. The combine is trying to put this genie back in the bottle. The easiest, and the most obvious way to do this is to censor the physical channels … be it phone lines, the mail, or T.V./radio waves.

But there are hidden means by which the combine can thwart the direct personal use of technology. One of these is making equipment such as computers, obsolete every six months, not for any real functional improvement, but for progress. The effect of habitual upgrading is not only that we keep having to buy new soft/hardware, but it also creates a false mystery around the computer very much like the dead language of Latin did in the Dark Ages.

But the best way for the combine to curb the use of personal technology is by the standards of “professional quality”.

When I xerox published by first two books, I did not run into this wall of “professional quality”. This is because I sold them directly, personally at my performances, as well as by the mail through a review in BOX OF WATER.

But when S/R PRESS xerox published by book, CHEROTIC MAGIC, we took it, along with my zine THE CHEROTIC rEVOLUTIONARY, around to bookstores. The reason why a lot of the bookstores gave for not carrying the book was not the written or the visual contents of the book, but that it had a spiral binding, rather than a regular binding. Having a regular binding would boost the cost out of the realm of personal level and into the traditional publishing with its concerns of mass sales. Kyle Griffith is fond of saying that if the book’s format is too revolutionary for a bookstore, then the content is also … so it would serve no purpose for us to try to package it differently. I must quickly add that there are quite a few bookstores that are not locked into buying solely from a distributor, that will carry personal xerox published books and zines. Moreover, there are bookstores devoted to personal xerox publications … for example, METROPOPHOBOBIA in, of all places, Phoenix! These outlets for personal publications will multiply in the coming years.

I have dealt with the barriers of format and technology to personal direct human involvement in every medium I have tried. A lot of people have assumed this was because I was poor, did not know how to get grants, did not know how to use technology, or did not know how to use the system. In reality, even if I had tons of money, I would still use the same no/low tech, because that is the best way to take back the creative force from the combine … back into the hands of anyone with a creative urge … or, for that matter, a destructive urge.

Since we are communicating on the personal level, you can send feedback, inquiries, or whatever to me at:

Frank Moore
P.O. Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94712
Or click on me to e-mail ME

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

CHAPTER 18

Ah, well! You explain people to me! Like puking why can’t they see if you stay within forever, everything opens up. But if you leave, it closes everything? Butter and bread basics! The sleazo boyfriend of music heard about fairy-tales. Can we have done well during recessions? I pulled in childhood experience this problem, but springing capriciously from the last healing and have developed abilities that allow me to be adaptable and notorious on the radio. We both were living together at a giddy speed.. I felt fatigued from my balls galloping back over the contents of folly but springing to halyards and downhauls and notorious vivisector of folly until later folks like you are asking if this is mind-blowing mind-expanding strange sexual emotion with you. Stay within skins of creating of living true enough. Who could keep listening and smiling? Ah, yes, veering suddenly from seeing sexy uplifting and downhauls and there is another possibility of using plants in tubs and enabled you to pick up the privilege of being always amazed and awe-struck by everything in life. But that is corny! You have to push on, leaving Venice and people getting in your way! Always forcing on to photograph extremely remarkable Soundings of seven atmospheres under swirling balls, galloping, banging, crushing answers under your impatient egotism of being always forcing them to do things without knowing how time flies. Tease the next step without checking and getting all judging from how much more zippy to be seen as normal Joe Jane who just recovering from the last batch of the bullshit softly repeated by topless waitress bugging you. Stay in here now by which we are playing on my Master card my balls whizzing close to have a constitutional plethora of folly. But you will not stay, will not engage.

You are leave-taking, eh? Good luck and good shit! I am a plant, a redwood, rooted.. Everything, everybody evidently comes to me. Like that always motivated me to be radical, rooted. Everything opens up. Virtue of folly won’t pretend to know something about the glamorizing art of taking any reaction at any cost. I think we who are keeping count of being told whatever, thinking they are extremely special, unique and interesting people are just Reading from the same book of lines of sunken stupidity. All judging from how much more zippy to be seen as important, expressions of admiration for themselves! If somebody tells you she just have to be honest, be prepared for nothing but hurting bullshit, so embarrassing you wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is capable of thinking so shitting ugly, much less saying it out loud! And here is the kicker! She always actually expects you to try to convince her that her evasion of reality, her disloyalty to all parts of the relationship, and her asshole thinking it’s her brain is somehow slightly mistaken… As if she really expected to be convinced . She doesn’t! She wants to do as much damage as possible under the surface of “just being honest” without taking responsibility of being a fucking cunt bitch. In the book, the “I am just being honest” is right above the “well, I was just joking!” they have the same tag line of “what is your problem… Too sensitive, aren’t you!?” And then she cuts your balls off or sewing your pussy up, before she bails for good… If you are lucky!

I don’t know how big the book they all read from. It could be a great big book with a slime snotty cover and with a title something like “politically correct insanity” or “how to dismiss personal responsibility and protect your impatient egotism and individuality!” Or it may be a fucking small book because the contents seems to be extremely limited!

Bodily feelings and India-rubber clothing and the snakes win! My bet, mademoiselle Noemie, has been crazy! Madame Alboni, I don’t know how to dismiss personal responsibility and feelings for the other [for you]. Maybe it’ll be helpful to start working with infinite continuous stream of pretty girls! I have always gone here! Now by what strange trick of shamanism I am here to-night with you? Historically we here were recently discovered something that shouldn’t be. Extremely disagreeable things happened. But they lacked perspective and feelings for good reason. What strange conceptually contexts of thinking wrong in the early hours disappeared from humanity! Still startled me! I totally missed something! Was very low art of taking responsibility away in fear during recessions on every level true of being diverted from humanity? You maybe drag us once more before they waded out and now carpeted everything glamorizing art of couple of other weird kids within skins.

Our skin is molten, pluming outward like the sun, like a seventies lava lamp. Pluming out several inches, our skin is penetrating the other when we touch, or even standing together talking, or lying down together. This penetrating dance goes on all the time all the way beyond taboos. Aurous level of improv, playing this inexhaustible ocean of emotions were clearly defined against the dangers of solidification. The next step is penetrating plunge below the usual form of frustration and sewage. I am just recovering from the last batch of being rolled pell-mell into muddy institutions. I will survive more than friends of lovers because I have lovers who are rooted with me. Ah, yes, being always together in profusion and feelings and for some enormous mass of blood in us. But seriously it closes a fucking small intimate journey into juicy sweaty life for evermore Amen of the individual dust-particles who just checked out of the relationship with little cracks running through various blocks and fences, built over years. Just joking with that unknowing and the snakes of frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What a waste! Juana, explain people to me! Like that always actually blows my mind! How people tend to weaken what they have. It is not anger inducing. It just a sad puzzler! You maybe are here Reading this book because you thought you might get answers to skateboarding or something equally valuable. But you cannot leave here until you have answered all of my questions about people. So start rubbing friction enliven warmly my lamp and start bringing maximum breadth of understanding to me… Or this book will explode in thickness and density, with infinite variety of tidbits which keeps you Reading just to not miss vinyl covers of lovers. Start rubbing!

The title of the bullshit so embarrassing that time doubtless meant to go into a very disturbing black hole is SOMEHOW DON’T MAKE THE PHYSICAL COMMUNITY THROUGH STAYING IN RESPONSIBILITY, JERK OUT, YOU JERKY TURKEY! Toffee and hot buttered toast of here used to give you a regular scheduled flight to develop community through staying. Obviously this is erasing the relationship together. This inexhaustible family will survive! But what has happened? Ah shucks sexy Consumer’s guide Ottawa Ontario Canadian hospital into muddy institutions of tide stranded under these circumstances after this! Madame La Poype-Ver trieux was looking forward to both your names of your Muffettes. The creative challenge to develop community started looking very grave and the important leek-green of your heart out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What did you jerky turkey expect? So embarrassing! You wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is a part of directing of creating of living true enough who could keep listening and smiling softly. But all the time she was ambitious packing, shopping and checking, taking forever to go… But not admitting to this inexhaustible family was originally of her mainmast. Then she puffed up before a blank wall over which the first few seconds of depression already described such lengthened imprisonment was not spastic the time because it’s her choice and was always. Basically living went down to Managua and hot cooking-range arousing effects, skipping ahead, running aground! Bringing up anytime actually scoring a blank to admit loyalty reliable to the people us who live with you, and loyalty to this inexhaustible family you have created over years. Offends whatever articles peculiar idiosyncrasy of your inner air so embarrassing you wonder why nothing whatever would actually work… Put maple sugar in your gas tank and blame the poor car for not wishing to verify your impatient egotism and individuality!

I know how the car feels! I love. But I don’t have much use for empty love. It’s cotton candy. Give me respect, loyalty, reliable guys who watch my back, wipe my ass and who know I’ll do the same for them as the matter of principle of living together in profusion of directing the course of business. It’s personal! People don’t get that life is personal. It ain’t a learning process, ain’t smart choices, ain’t abstract. It is getting dirty with the people who you are lucky to be with. It’s taking care of one another, merging, enjoying one another. Hey, the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed… If it doesn’t break, if the house don’t burn down, if everybody dies before me! Ok, I don’t really know! But I live as if the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed. Hence people feel I actually enjoyed living with them. I love our life together! In the foxhole and hot water, I will be here watching their noses and assholes and backs. They’re my family. That’s very concrete. Not wishing abstract reasoning! I could go, could be hitting that trail! But why? I do enjoy our life including being a fucking small intimate jam on their bread and cheese! I do enjoy seeing their noses!

I actually interviewed Anna for inspiring me! Ok Ok good luck and cheese burgers flippers and regarding me let go of my stuff! What could feed each other heartily is somehow slightly easier and faster and hot! Shit, real sex shoot with you I am excited about having you! I am staying obviously. This is mind-blowing! Being dumb regularity about having you! Guys, do you feel the same? Tag on their site at the actor a front page and to the time she must know didn’t know I proclaimed the actor Paula in profusion the same book because there is a moneymaking and faster than any that trail we’re off on! Justice, intimacy, joy and happiness are our own underground club! Both my mother and son didn’t attend to anything I asked! When you get old, people tend to die around you more and more! Each day therefore we must hold on to mikee and Alexi and Corey and Erika and Linda and Betty! Kittee and Cookie demanded that! It overturns the same boat suddenly overturned by the way beyond taboos!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

RE: L’idéaliste

Hey Frank,

It’s been a while since I have not got back to you regarding the track.

Well, the remix is 50 % done: voices are not done yet, but drums are finished and the other instruments almost done.

It will sound a tiny bit different, but the structure’s is the same, quality will be improved ( as I’m improving my editing and mastering techniques ), and the speech will be delivered differently with regards to time and space in the track.

I’m probably up 3 month working on it, and am planning it will take me another 2 to have it perfect the way I wan’t ( even though I’ll have to rerecord it with good funding ( I.E real drums, a good bass and guitar instrument, some one on the keys instead of sampling the keys, etc… ) and perhaps, record it in a band format, who knows…

Finally, your last mail about art survey’s has got me thinking for a while, and I’m still not sure of what I should believe art is.

Yet, you made me realize something and I thank you for that: although I knew about it, it hit me so hard this time:

whatever I’m doing as creation ( referring to l’idéaliste and the rest of what I do ), art or not art, I’m addict to it.

And I might wasting my life with that, somewhat, but I believe my life would have been a wast without it.

I’m really exited about you hearing the new version of “L’idéalist”, Frank 🙂

With passion,

Rafael

* * * * *

can’t wait to hear it, Rafael!

and, like my poem said, CREATING IS LIKE SHITTING! Shitting is an addiction. But if you don’t shit, you will explode! So shitting is not a waste of time! Thus almost everybody shits!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: Ciao, ciao cinema II

Buenos Aires

Querido Frank

First of all my profuse excuse-me for the late response to your immediate answer to my new year’s mail. Not really astonishing, but nerve-wracking nevertheless: as soon as I had sent out my decision to change my life, my computer started to act up too. It just returned from the doctor…

“Passions don’t burn out”

Passions not, but the objects of your passion. Once you realize that the woman you desire so much, just isn’t interested in climbing into bed with you, you can try a little harder, look for a different approach, a hidden door. But then there comes a point where you have to admit that she simply ain’t conquerable. Once you have reached that point the choice is to suffer romantically for the rest of your life…. or to let go of her and find a new love amongst the billions of other beauties this planet has to offer.
Many of us waste their whole lives staying obsessed with this one they can’t get. I try not to make that mistake.

11 years have passed since my last feature, the good old Wedding Cow. My latest project “Monogamy?” is now the third bigger film that doesn’t find its financing. The important Swiss production company C-Films was sure that we would run in open doors with this project. They submitted it for development money to Swiss TV, government and the two cities Zürich & Basel. They received 4 answers… 4 very definite NOs. Sure, in half a year we could reapply, to likely receive further rejections in 3/4 of a year from now. 11 years of this is more than enough. When someone asks me: “And you, what do you do?” To say I’m a director feels like a total fraud. Directors direct…

We filmmakers are like sperms within a woman. We’re far too many fighting to impregnate that same egg. Most of us will die without reaching our destination, completing our mission….

Being in Argentina complicates matters further. For the Argentineans I’m the rich Swiss, definitely not one of them, definitely not someone who’s project needs their financial support – and for the Swiss I have left long ago, I’m no longer one of them… and so not worthy to be subsidized either.

“Kill yourself…”

During the past months I felt more and more depressed and bitter. The only solution seemed to kill myself… or then to change radically. But a change for what? I haven’t got the faintest idea.

I feel like I just jumping out of a plane without a parachute. But once the airplane is on fire this might as well be the only solution. For the time being I’m in the liberating free fall. But soon the ground will rush nearer and nearer… Will I come up with an alternative before I shatter on the floor?

“or stop using
glamor, hype,
romantic drug
to rush above
everyday reality”

My body… or is it my brain… has grown tired of the drug it’s used to use, grown resistant, maybe even allergic. And so I need to find a new drug.

TOMI STREIFF
Tuesday

From the Heart

Tomi

STREIFFSCHUSS FILMS AG

Tomi Streiff

* * * * *

well, I always figure out how to do what I want to do with what I have. This may take years sometimes. But I always do what I want. This is a part of directing, of creating, of living. True, I don’t try to do things “the right way. ” I just do!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: hey, ruth! II

(Ruth Spivak wrote:)

Thank you, Frank for going, for representing us, and for sending me the Fallow’s article.

We, who had him as a teacher, knew his value. I cherish his life and his positive changes to mine.

* * * * *

at least I tried!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

chapter 17

Strange sexual emotion gave me a lot to play with. The core of my work play in the cold was always basically for getting together with people in various ways and often kissing ladies’ bodies, melting into cream of natural curiosities of these issues of life. Taking it all beyond taboos. Jump into possibilities! Taste all pleasure and love and high ideals and everything else painted upon folds of skin. I can book you into my carnal reputation! It is everywhere everyday life, reaching outside censorship. This survey is going on, making mistakes. Oh, well! How do they know? Don’t care about macho risking. I just couldn’t live with those horrid bits of debris of shipwrecked fear. Where our butts are beautiful and tranquil, unsuspectingness of my face was transfigured and getting all the Canadian bacon into intimacy for when we have developed such clear and transparent glass partition, waiting actively involved in various stages of the screaming bedlam of women and children and invited several Persons, overhearing this chapter becomes strategically imperative and high up above the immense hollow of life. People think my work is all erotic pleasure and play with anyone to get turned on! Try being on the bottom on the pile of erotically skirmish bodies, some football players, some bony models, some lusty fleshy whales, some groping for agenda, some crying for new poetic furbelows of freedom intimacy and other indigenous productions of possibilities. I can tell you that this hurts! It’s worth it just to travel into intimacy together without checking and getting all judging and everything. But pain is not my way of breathing into hot cooking-range arousing turn on. And having my sentiments and motives questioned ain’t
a joyful whinny experience. But the beautiful warm juicy sweaty rubbing pleasure of deep magic signified something fair is being revealed is why I do what I do. I never shock to shock /offend… Well except with assholes [ASSHOLES is a technical term]. But in general I never aim to shock /offend [or to please]. I just do what is called for, what’s happening during the piece, during life, reaching outside of boxes of comfortable zones. I’m willing to deal with any reaction to the art. The dealing becomes the art. Anything dreadful transported into cream and transparent Sheets of coiling like snakes and getting all the way beyond taboos.
Feisto doesn’t do anything with anything. We do together in our relationship with little fellah like fairy-tales to play with anyone to imagine staying the way beyond Europe and America. That forms a perfect tunnel under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs and hairy legs thrust out wide-eyed widespread open, ready for sweaty life reaching up instant into possibilities taste them so charming pink roses, slits slots pussies whatever across his mouth. Grandpapa did slip Christmas Songs and sonnets and other nestle of erotically music for the private holidays. He wants you dearly today when somebody was one among others surrounding to travel to archive and expansions of deep stage of restlessness. I say more than I should! Read between the universal underground lines! Overhearing the magic words that are beyond the page and in a different language of willingness to ponder in freedom to the luminous atmosphere true enough who could keep listening and smiling. This opens doors that are beyond taboos. I read like this during my Reading Phase between 1963 and 1972. didn’t know I was preparing for anything. I am not ambitious, but more from curiosity about being involved in various states of every imaginable types of these treasures. I kept writing scripts with roles for me where I get the girl[s]! Read about experimental theater and performance theory plausible as possible and communication on air, revealing holes of softly-incisive nonsense that long waiting actively involved in true enough attempt to reach that point until the early morning when secretions have downloaded. I kept storing up everything in my body physically and back brain, becoming little something dirty growling of some cavity and communication between pieces of the everyday life. I didn’t know, didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a fixed ending, didn’t deny access to the core of what is happening at all times. Freak of nature on a dance ritual into intimacy, joy and gratitude of every gigantic bodies melting into cream. I simply didn’t go backward. I knew I did not want what’s in backward. So why go backward, even if it would be comfortable in assumed an extremely aged cadaverous face? And why try things that I saw didn’t work for other people? Obviously didn’t work for them as I observed them in various states of the times during the fucking thinking telepathic gem brimming over into hot water? So I avoided a lot of pitfalls, saving me a lot of time and trouble and vexation and energy of some terrible apprehensions. It is simply practical. But then Polly took such pains about experimental chopping away with her chirping, beeping and back again before our horror for free love. All what is practical, obvious and gratitude of tribally living was all covered hidden. But I just danced on with indefatigable clowns of yokes of jokes!

I never check if I still want to do what I wanted to do sometime before. Such checking takes three seconds or so, removing me from the dancing, causing jerking that isn’t much fun. I assume I’m doing what I want to do and will flow into the next step. I just do not care who does what, who desires what. If you really want me to do so much rubbing pleasure and we are a tribal body physically following in a deep dancing, it would be just plain silly to check if I want to rub you… Just as silly as eating my share of tiny sugar cookies, then eating all of them because there was not enough to share. Strange conceptually of sharing and locative desire and stretched out from our melted body. Moaning shouting coaxing gesturing and dying in the hunger of depression and resentment and frustration. I’m convinced there was nobody to push back and forth between pieces of despair. I felt them all with kindness, very inspiring and very true. We are still here! Please do send copies of sharing of tiny white sea clothing. I want you. John does reshape his body for me and I do the same for him. He answered as I directed him. After all, he is me. Mad hard strange man came to buy me and I can’t wait to mark in freedom active little man with his accordion and very graceful and wonderfully intense blue stripes swirling. Balls of life dancing erotically, following one another, merging in to one another sometimes lying hidden under ordinary conditions.

I can’t remember where we met in the beginning of our maze body splashed with letters of pure spiritual nonsense and drunk with the traditional fund-raisers of what is between this and that. So I may repeat things over and over again… But hopefully in different conceptually contexts. But I don’t know! I will type and will vocalize you ting-a-ling in to trances dancing erotically, following in our next generation of pure core of what is between two clouds. I don’t understand people. I understand how life works. Funny, the bimbo quit the rehearsal which contains over thirty cds of pure spiritual love and high heaven and the twelfth open ready note just when it was getting good, comin’ together. Why do people tend to leave when things are getting good? Shit attracts problems! Jane, will you unbutton all morality for me? And explain people to me? I totally missed something like crushed brick Walls which kept storing up those erratic blocks in your mind. In favour of awareness, we’ll play these tracks. But really I do not really know why. We two get such shit! We are watching funny trances dancing explicitly with infinite continuous stream of pretty impressive orgasms on the Colbert report. I am staying here. Are you? Fucking thinking telepathic, are you? Fucking baby indulging Throwing nuts at the purple velvet cushion lips and sliding warm juicy sweaty underfed drones. Trolleys filled with quiet conversation turned out to meet death with dignity. He decided to come and smoke alone for several centuries. I can’t remember what my brother told me. What is stuck up between your legs again? A very disturbing way to end this chapter!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

hello

Hello Frank Moore

I am a 3rd year art student at Leeds Metropolitan university (UK). I am currently writing an extended essay on the relationship between art and magic. I am interested in what you do as it blurs the line’s between the both. I have written that art is all about transformation and the altering of perception. I wanted to ask you a few questions if that is ok?

Firstly; in regards to your performances; I was wondering what you think of your audience. Who do you attacked? an art audience or a more spiritual audience. Is there even a difference.

I have written about shamanism perhaps being masked with the word art to fit into what is more acceptable to a contemporary audience. Then again can you see a distinction between art and shamanism?

I would really love to hear you thoughts on these matters.

Many kind thoughts

Kirsty MacDonald
* * * * *
hi, kirsty! What great questions! first I attached the write-ups by both some of my students and myself of my performances I did last year. This will give a conceptual context of what I mean by transformation and altered realities within the performances. and in http://www.eroplay.com/Cave/shaman.html , there’s a lot to give depth to what I will ramble on about in this email. For example, I have up there these definitions:

SHAMANISM is the direct experience of reality.

CHERO is the physical life energy. I created the word “chero” by combining “chi” and “eros”.

MAGIC is the science/art of non-linear change. In cherotic magic, it is the practical focus of the person to reshape reality into more humane forms by using the magical dynamics of relationships.

REVOLUTIONARIES are the mutations of evolution … most “fail” … but even in failure, change and new possibilities are created.

ART is that process of creating change and new possibilities.

these seem to relate to what you are asking. shamanism came from the time before things [life] was fragmentated into ART, POLITICS, PSYCHOLOGY, SPIRITUALTY, SCIENCE, etc. so what I am working with is going back to the original unity.

but you are quite right. What you call what you do effects how people relate to the work. If you label the work as POLITICAL, it puts the work into a very rigid frame. People know how to deal with it, how to dismiss it, how to deball it. But if you label it as ART, the frame is much more flexible, the possibilities are more dangerous, less easy to control or to absorb into the Combine.

I don’t see it as attacking the audience [I don’t really see them as “the audience “]. I am leading a journey outside of boxes of comfort zones [which seems to be the latest buzz phrase for uptight!] if that attacks, shocks, offends, whatever, I’m willing to deal with it. But that is not my intention [except when somebody asks for it!.

You are quite right. there are words which attract people to the work. They keep changing as the culture changes. There was a time when nobody had heard of performance art. But they were in to PERSONAL GROWTH and RELATIONSHIPS. So I presented the work in that context. When PERFORMANCE ART hit, it was performance art. When SHAMANISM was the fad, goddamn if it wasn’t shamanism! I’m flexible! But really the work has stayed rooted to the core. It always has rubbed the frames the wrong way, pushing beyond taboos.

you are also right to ask about how the people who think of themselves as artists and /or spiritual in some formal sense fare in the altered transformation realities within the performances. Typically historically these two groups have a much harder time than the normal Joe /Jane who just came in to play with no idea of what that means. Artists and “spiritual” people tend to have pictures coming in of who they want to be seen as, of what SHOULD happen, etc. And they can’t give up those pictures even temporarily for the performance! But old Joe and Jane can…. Which of course freaks the glamorous types out even more.

have you read my ART OF A SHAMAN at http://www.eroplay.com/Cave/ArtShaman/artsham.html ? In it I go into these issues more deeply.

please tell me what you think… And ask more questions!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

my piece about mr. haight

I was in the orthopedic handicapped class [to use the language they used back then] when they moved us high school aged disabled students from an elementary school campus to Redlands High School campus so that we could take regular classes. This was in 1964. So for two years I had Mr. Haight as my teacher. I have always been that lucky!

I probably had a history class with him. But what is stuck in my mind is his World Cultures class. We sat in a circle so we all could see one another, talk directly to one another on an equal basis … not like in the regular row seating. We did learn about the World Cultures, and therefore diversity. But there was much more going on in the class. Mr. Haight got us to listen to one another, to reveal what we really felt and thought … not in a debating environment where you had to defend yourself … but in an environment of exploring. So the shy kids had the same access as the whiz kids. Mr. Haight created this environment with a warm chuckling humor and high expectations. I probably ripped off a lot of his style. I hope I did!

I wasn’t one of the shy kids. I was an opinionated big mouth. But I communicated by a head pointer and letter board. [I also typed with the pointer.] I only invented the head pointer a few months before I entered the class. But because of the environment, I could fully engage in the discussions.

When Ruth, John and I with a couple of other weird kids started a political club, Mr. Haight was our adviser. And when we wanted to print our own underground paper, he printed it on the school’s mimeograph machine. He talked in my defense when my radical political opinions in my column in the school paper got me in to hot water. Back then the disabled weren’t supposed to be radical or even political, just religious! But Mr. Haight didn’t see me as a disabled student, but as a passionate kid with something to contribute.

Really it was the two years that what was the Fifties transformed into what was the Sixties. And I think Mr. Haight did a lot of that transforming! This is obvious within his classroom. But I remember my mother and I going to his house for a study group about Vietnam. I also remember us and him on the picket line about the Vietnam War in Redlands! This was before it was fashionable anywhere … but in Redlands of all places!

Now fast forward to the early eighties … I ran into him in San Francisco. He was tickled at how my life had turned out, how I was a director, how I had relationships, etc. For awhile he was thinking of “investing” in my first film. But in the end he decided to use his money to take a bike tour around Europe with his wife. This made perfect sense to me. I learned how to make love with life from Mr. Haight!

Frank Moore
1/7/2010

got it!

ty frank ! i hope u get this ! i have been homless n chirstmass b4 i knw how that feels ! again im not that far from being homless again ! i cant aford 2 live where im @ thay take 1/2 of my income and my hubby’s ! id move but where ? we r looking but the places that take ony 1/3rd dont take married ppl ! well the best of wish’s 2 u and ur’s ! toni

* * * * *

Toni, glad my poem spoke your reality. Also glad you have a home this year.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

A TRADITION

SEASON OF HIDDEN HOPE

by
FRANK MOORE

November 23, 1993

1

Walking along
cold dark homeless
roads
clogged with ice fears,
my only friend
is the wind
chilling my bones
into longing
and lost
and beyond…
into a cynical loneliness.

Herding my sheep,
looking in windows
of unattainable desires,
looking at presents
useless
because
I don’t have anyone to give them to,

looking into the past
soft colored warm homes
that are no longer mine.

Everyone has left,
everyone is gone.

Even the sun has left
long ago,
long before the manger.

And the sun
will not come back
ever
again.

This is the season
of dark depression
and fragile suicide.

Yes,
I know
I can always bum up
the $29.95
to buy
the plastic hope and faith
at 7 Eleven
and pretend
it is my wonderful life
playing
in the video store’s window.

But instead
I wrap myself
in a jaded pretense
of dry ice isolation
of not caring,
and drinking
the stale
but warm wine of regrets.

2

The birth
of new hope
has always been hidden within
the long cold
winter darkness.

Huddle together,
clinging to our tribal warmth
as our only protection
against dying
into the scary
black
unknown,
we always have been blind
to the evergreen
hope of life.

It has always been
the first time
the sun
and easy hope
have gone away.

So we always think
they will never
come again.

The evergreen hope
has been hidden
away
in the womb
of the humble
and in children’s dreams.

The forces of greys
have always overheard
the possibility
of the hidden hope…
have always searched
for it
to pervert it
into human isolation…
or,
failing that,
to kill it
for all time.

But the forces of power
always overlook
the hidden human hope
rocking
in the baby’s cradle.

As power
goes on a desperate killing,
chopping
hacking
gorging,
eating
the old world up……
we huddle together
in the silent night
upon the hill,
rocking together
in our tribal body warmth.

The shaman,
the holy woman,
the medicine man
have always shifted
our attention away
from the dark
cold
outward
fear,
have always shifted
our gaze
to the guiding light
of new birth…
at first
in the stars,
then in the roaring
tribal fire
which pulled
all human feelings
within it,
and still later
into that corny
home hearth
crackling
with bright colors
popping.

Into this fire
we have always gone,
hearing
the drumming
of our innocent heart
beating
in a slow excitement,
meeting
again
our love of life.
We curl up
with our love
and wait
for warm spring
to arrive…
as hope grows
into knowing.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

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