Pericopae

6/8 ELECTRONIC FEST II :: Show Room w/ Faux Fear, Hemlock for Socrates, Architrave, Primitive Heart + Zeu :: Front Room w/ Lone Cricket, Pericopae, Voice from the Machine + Tom Interchangeable

https://pericopae.com

afflatusə-flā′təs

noun

A strong creative impulse, especially as a result of divine inspiration.

A blowing or breathing on, as of wind; a breath or blast of wind.

“I am sitting in a room different from the one you are in now. I am recording the sound of my speaking voice and I am going to play it back into the room again and again until the resonant frequencies of the room reinforce themselves so that any semblance of my speech, with perhaps the exception of rhythm, is destroyed. What you will hear, then, are the natural resonant frequencies of the room articulated by speech. I regard this activity not so much as a demonstration of a physical fact, but more as a way to smooth out any irregularities my speech might have.” 

- Alvin Lucier

"Oh, how great are God's riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and ways!For who can know the Lord's thoughts? Who knows enough to give him advice? And who has given him so much that he needs to pay it back? For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen."

vestige (vĕsˈtĭj)►

Real mud, thick slosh - inescapable. The whimpering bleat of a lamb slow-baking in a wolf's eyes, blown upon by the course wind of the river. A splattering blast ricochets through the valley.

The sun rises into a cooled, clear morning over the bucolic outskirts of a storied California metropolis. Buzzing hordes of expectant thespians bustle inside a hotel, primping in gesticulating cliques along the granite corridors of a reserved hall. . A wayward outsider flutters in, anonymously perusing the finely adorned surroundings. His restless eyes hover listlessly from gold-laced patterns on a svelte actress' satchel, to the sharp thrusting motions of a deeply hooded man sparring with a doppelgänger. Outside the parted mahogany doors of the great hall entryway, a despondent dame mutters in disappointment that she cannot commit to a role. . The focused pacing of scheduled footsteps preceed the body of a man unlike the crowd, who slices around a corner like a charging bull. His alpha stride divides the hopeful hordes as he moves toward the entryway, head-down with a leather-bound pad in hand. The outsider assumes his importance, but continues in his aimless meandering. . On a mantle facing the hotel entrance sits an obfuscated folio, its fashion-mag gloss shining beneath a weighty object. The focused face of the charging man glares heroically from within the page, terse eyes peering hazily beyond the observer with a resilient glaze. . As if gored, the outsider sagged into a couch, collapsing like a portcullis into the muddy despondence of his inner self. The floater understood the bull - The long, steady climb to this luxurious pinnacle had earned him a scepter, which he metaphorically wielded with earned authority. The content king was known by his reputation for excellence. . "If I do not pursue with diligence what fills my dreams with sparkling visions, I will end up gawking in the tailwind of greater men, yawing with desire.”