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Poor Kermit! I could barely sit through the "Muppets take Manhattan" myself.

Can I go home now? Please?
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Missed the Robert Anton Wilson aWake memorial service? Went but slept through it or were too wasted to remember what happened? Well the Collective Works folks have got your back!

Check out these excerpts from the show

The Law of 5's

Ad Astra

Copulating Currency

Schrödinger's Cat

Markoff's Interuption ('The Midget vs the Digits from The Illuminatus Trilogy)

Tell Collective Works what you think, drop them a line over at their myspace page (hyperlinked above)and don't forget about CW next collaboration:
365 Days/365 Plays Project is a grassroots national theater festival conceived by Suzan-Lori Parks and Bonnie Metzgar which seeks to create a new geography for artistic production in the Internet age. Linking artists locally, nationally and internationally in simultaneous production over the course of an entire year, this project will map the rich diversity of the American theatrical landscape in new and surprising ways for audiences both live and online.

For more detailed calender information, go to: www.arts.emory.edu/more/365plays.htm OTHER LINKS: www.365days365plays.com
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Next Prickle-Prickle, on Chaos 54, Year of Our Lady of Discord 3173... or February 23rd for those of you on the Gregorian Calendar... join Collective Works as The Invisible College proudly presents an evening of Zenarchy, Paradigm Hustling, Pope Making, Puppetry, Spoken Word, Live Music, Performance, Lasagna Eating, FROP, GROK & ROLL celebrating the life and after-life of Robert Anton Wilson.
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For One Walpurgisnacht Only!!!

An evening of Readings, Music, Performance, Puppetry, Magick, Pope Making, Lasagna flying, NeuroChemical Altering & other sundry forms of Mind Fuckery!

You Are Invited!

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“If you think you know what the hell is going on, you're probably full of shit.”

“Of course I'm crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong.”

“. . . there are periods of history when the visions of madmen and dope fiends are a better guide to reality than the common-sense interpretation of data available to the so-called normal mind. This is one such period, if you haven't noticed already.”

February 23rd,2007
Invisible College presents....


Being a multi-media celebration of the life & after life of Robert Anton Wilson: Author, Futurist, Playwright, Anarchist, Essayist, Quantum Psychologist, Guerrila Ontologist, Fnord, Stand Up Comedian and Most Worshipful Secret Master of the Invisible College(ret.)

Join COLLECTIVE WORKS for an evening of readings, performances, music, video installations, fnord, pope making (no really), lasagna flying, magick, mirth & mysticism.

With music by


One night only at Push Push Theater
February 23rd,2007
10pm - ?

This message has been bought to you by the...
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“If you think you know what the hell is going on, you're probably full of shit.”
Read more... )

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Another Collective Works project.

~Theo van Doesburg (Christian Emil Marie Küpper) with Kurt Schwitters. Kleine Dada Soirée. 1922

What is DADA?

The broken finger of the Signifier pointing at nothing?
Surrealism vamped up in deconstructionist drag?
Post-Structalist posturing around the campuses and cafes of pseudo-boho America?


Anti-Semantic Literature?
An excercise in Intellectual Necrophilia?
Art hunting Art?


Does Dada...
cause bloating, fever, dizziness, nausea and loss of appetite?
approve of this message?
been approved by nine out of ten orthodontists?
have the right to remain silent?
come super sized, value sized or snack sized?
know where your children are?
have operators standing by?

No... well maybe!

More theatrical Zen-nanigans from Collective Works and the fevered mind of The man behind the mask: Actor, Director, Reverend, Outsider Artist, Tantric Cowboy and Moustache Connoisseur!

"send an e-mail to dadaseries@gmail.com and you will be sent updated festival schedules and news regarding this upcoming 10 day series of art events at the Whole World Theater's Third World stage."

Event: Collective Works' 23rd Annual D.A.D.A. Series

Where: Whole World Theater's Third World Space

1214 Spring Street

Atlanta, Georgia 30309

When: 10 nights - September 21st 26th Oct. 2nd and 3rd , 9th and 10th

8pm Midnight [M, Tues, Thurs, Fri, Sat] 7pm Midnight [Sunday]

What: 'Tis the season for no rhyme or reason. Multimedia and
multidisciplinary artists present film, theater, improv, puppetry,
music, dance, poetry and art.

Cost: $10 for each night or $50 for a festival pass good for two
people [Only 25 passes available]. Cash Bar.

The Schedule [As of September 13, 2006 )
"Dada is a state of mind. Dada applies itself to everything, and yet it is nothing, it is the point where the yes and the no and all the opposites meet, not solemnly in the castles of human philosophies, but very simply at street corners, like dogs and grasshoppers.

Like everything in life, Dada is useless.

Dada is without pretension, as life should be.

Perhaps you will understand me better when I tell you that Dada is a virgin microbe that penetrates with the insistence of air into all the spaces that reason has not been able to fill with words or conventions." ~Tristan Tzara
"Lecture on Dada" (1922)
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And now Invisible College presents....another fun and fact filled installment of...

Madam I'm Adam

"That's me!"

... your questions as answered by an 18th century German educator, Freemason and founder of the Bavarian Order of Illuminati. Adam Weishaupt is a Jesuit educated professor of Canon Law, distinquished member of the Enlightenment and a leading member of the Order of Perfectibilists (later known as the Illuminati), which through machinations both sinister and obscene, may have possibly been manipulating the course of American history in order to rule the world!

And today he's been channeled by me, live via a NecrOracular Transtelereceiver, more commonly refered to by the layman as....
Da-Da-Daaaaa... the Ouija Board....that's right bitches...fear the occult powers of PARKER BROTHERS! FEAR THEM I SAY...


And now your questions:Read more... )
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                                  aN  aDVENTURE  iN  iNTERPRETIVE  cHEMISTRY!

bUT wHAT wE wANT tO kNOW iS....
                                      .....aRE yOU eXPERIENCED?!?!?!

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often it is the only
between you and
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
match it.

nothing can save

it keeps the walls
the hordes from
closing in.

it blasts the

writing is the

the kindliest
god of all the

writing stalks
it knows no

and writing
at itself,
at pain.

it is the last
the last

what it

Charles Bukowski
from blank gun silencer - 1991

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Do you want to make more money? Sure we all do! But not everyone can be a drug dealer,Gangsta-Gangsta or straight up pimp! Hi i'm Sally Struthers - actress, spokeswoman and vague memory in the collective unconscious of American pop culture - and i'm here to tell you how you can jump start your career* with Invisible Colleges Inverse-Correspondence Course!

Put your life on the fast track with these exciting pathworking opportunities -

  • Basic Sigil Magick

  • Quantum Mechanics and You

  • Tantric Yoga For Beginners

  • Corporate Ninjitsu

  • Tarot The Vegas Way

  • Pimp my Paradigm

  • Zen and the Art of Bullshiting your peers

  • TV/VCR Repair

  • .... and much, much more!

  • Just send 13 dollars, an open mind and yourself, to Push-Push Theater this Saturday, June 3rd at 10:30pm to register for these exciting life changing courses**.

    So please, for the price of a single cup of coffee (if said cup of coffee was purchased at a Starbucks at your local airport), you could make a difference in the most important life of all... YOURS! So act now, why delay?***

    *-Warning: Will not actually jump start your career and in fact may be detrimental to how you perceive yourself, your job, your friends, your family and loved ones.

    **-Life not guaranteed to change unless you didn't find your life terribly interesting in the first place.

    ***-Well technically you have to delay because it doesn't start for another 50 some odd hours or so, unless your reading this on a Saturday in which case...HURRY UP FOOL YOU'RE MISSING THE SHOW!

    We now retrun to "Jack Babalon's Blogorama-A-Go-Go"

    ....once again Adam found himself hanging from a window ledge naked. From inside Veronica Violet's apartment he could hear her boyfriend work the Angel Dust and jealousy out of his system with a marathon fuck session with a stuffed Lynx he kept on the mantlepiece.

    "Well ain't that just my luck" Adam sneered as a pigeon attempted a landing on his head.
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    Read more... )
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    Never promise more than you can perform.
    - Syrus (Publilius Syrus), Maxims

    But by the next day I began practicing my lines in earnest:

    North Avenue Station: "What man is at ease in his inn?"
    "Get out!"
    as nervous commuters try to figure out whether i'm criminally insane or just plain old cracked out.
    "It's okay. I'm an actor!" I smile and lie straight from the heart. The commuters go from scared to annoyed.

    The #2 bus to Avondale Station: "Wide is the world and cold!"
    "Get out!"
    I spit the words from the window at all those cars speeding by me.

    The Office Elevator: "Thou hast become an In-itiate!" I smile at the security camera they have installed and add with a wink, "Get Out!"

    Naked in front of my mirror at home: "But thou canst not get out by the way thou Camest in. The way OUT is the WAY!" I do this line over and over again because it's the hardest to remember. Sometimes I shout it out with Fugazi and the Ramones on in the background. Sometimes I whisper it to myself. Sometimes, just to keep it interesting, I recite it in imitation of my actor friends voices: The rabid squeak of the Magpie, the Porno-Baritone of West, the Nasally grizzly bear whine of the Big Guy and even the forced British Affectation of Angel. "Get Out!" I say returning to my own voice with a laugh.

    At the intersection of Freedom Parkway and Boulevard: The sun sets on the skyline bouquet tied together with ribbon of I-20. The silouette of MLK reaches towards the heavens. It is a sacred spot in the city. The true heart of Atlanta. "For OUT is love and Wisdom and Power" I say with adoration as the homeless shuffle around me in the bushes of the bike trail.Get out!

    In my bed, the night beofre the show: I reconstruct HER kiss, I vision HER breasts bouncing beneath me, eyes dreamy distant and filled with me. I replay HER little moans in my head, sweet as sugar-music to my soul and I say to this ghost lover i've summoned: "If thou hast T already, First get UT". SHE reaches up to cup my face, phantom fingers gliding across my cheeks: "Then Get O" I begin to feel the Shakti Serpent descend down my spine, I summon the memory of her smile and rain death into my ghost lover uttering the words at my climax: "And so at last get OUT!"

    I'm standing there on the stage. The words are gone, nowhere inside me to be found, in my chest I feel the trap door spring open. I'm on the first drop of a 100 story roller coaster and falling into the darkness at a horrendous speed.... and then, like an fighter pilot pulling his plane out of his nose dive with both guns blazing back into the heavens the words come to me like little boys dreams of the Cavalry! I am posessed now, the poem is riding my voice like waves and crashing out into the shores of the audience. I am no longer Robert Mosca, for a few moments I am only the WORDS.

    I come back to. I step down. I rejoin the circle. West turns around and leads us off stage in a procession, while we chant the last line of the poem:"Get Out!" over and over again. When I arrive back stage I collapse to my knees in supplication of some higher power that has already left me. Relief sweeps over me and the adreanlin rush comes crashing back down.

    I did it.

    All my life i've been so very afraid of you all. Individually I could dismiss you with a smirk, but amassed together and i'm just a little boy again in Brooklyn outnumbered in the playground, unable to fight back and equally unable to face myself in the mirror when I was left for beaten. I get off my knees, I walk out of that little boys playground and rejoin my friends for the curtain call.
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    "Rarely promise, but, if lawful, constantly perform."
    - William Penn

    The School bell doesn't ring as much as it shrieks like some large tin animal that's just been stabbed in the belly. That's our signal for the last act! We burst out from behind the stage, all spazz vaudeville, channeling our inner 'Three Stooges", running, circling and whooping at one another while trying not to trip over each others cloaks and robes. Our frenzy slows down, we are each pulled back into the orbit of the circle around the gravity of the stage. We stand there quietly for the eternity of a breaths length, waiting on West to navigate us through the final ceremony of this theatrical ritual. West, 70's mustached and narrow eyed, reeks of that subdued intensity you only get off holy mystics or professional Californians. His silence is sucking in the audiences expectations and allowing it to flow through us like an electrical current through a human circuit. Finally he raises his hands into what is a cross between a Buddhist Mudra and a gesture commonly known as the 'Shocker' -(All fingers spread out except the wedding one signifying the occult meaning - 'Two in the Pink, One in the Stink').We mirror the gesture and the subsequent gestures that ride an invisible line vertically from sternum to crown, out and around and returning back to just above the navel. We raise our hoods simultaneously and we spread our arms out into an interlinking cross.

    Now it's my turn.

    Feel that?
    The raw fear tapping into the nerves like a drill. A fist clenched in the gut. The flash of sirens flooding your car. A hanging judge clearing his throat at your trial. A loose noose around the neck. A bad report card silently read by your parents. A thousand glass spiders trying to crawl out of from under your skin. The slow motion moments before a car wreck. Me stepping out of the circle, stepping up onto the box that's doubled as altar and desk for the other acts, standing up there. Exposed. Vulnerable. Invisible no longer all eyes fall on me. The heat of the stage lights slowly roasting me under the thick brown robe i'm wearing. There's maybe 40, 50 people tops in the audience but right now it looks like an entire army has been marshalled out there in the dark, each face a thousand. I take a deep breath and reach inside me for the lines i've been constantly rehearsing, practicing, repeating and pulling back... nothing! I stand up there on the gallows frozen.

    "At Ease!" Our Company Commander barks and we snap out of our rigid posture of 'Attention' into the slighty more comfortable Parade Rest' position. It's a Black Flag day, and here at the O.R.T.C. (Orlando Recruit Training Command), that means we're supposed to be exempt from exercising and marching outside until the temperature drops. But my divisions got an old school Squid, one who thinks that concepts like 'heat exhaustion' and 'dehydration' are the by products of a soft bellied generation of whiners who couldn't make the grade in the Navy of back in the day.

    "Alright Ladies" He grumbles "Command has come down with the order to find a Re-cruit suit-able to be the Ad-mirals Chaffuer for the day. Preferably some-one who is not a complete and utter fuck up. Unfor-tunately we only have you Ladies to choose from... so who's it going to be?" He marches up and down the line and stops at me.

    "You Mosca!" His breath slaps me in the face with hate and halitosis "You wanna be the Admirals Chaffuer...?" Before I can reply that I can't due to my not having a license our RCPO speaks up and volunteers.

    He spins around and asks him if he can handle the driving the Admiral's limo? The R.C.P.O. (that's Recruit Chief Petty Officer to you civilians), a natural ass kisser and ergo destined to go far in the Service, asserts that he can drive the Limo whole heartedly with a sincerely and sickening sense of gratification in his voice.

    "Good!" The C.C. sneers turning to his #2. "We have a volunteer!"

    Our RCPO marches smugly out of the ranks, where he is directed to a large pile of dirt with a single shovel sticking out of it like Excalibur. Next to the pile is a beat up old wheel barrel.

    "Now then this is the Ad-miral's Limo" The CC says nodding to the wheel barrel, "You will fill up the Admiral's Limo and 'drive' it to there" indicating a spot a few dozen yards away "Do you have any questions?". The RCPO was soul slapped and looking stupid. He mumbled a 'No sir' and proceeded to shoveling the dirt into the 'Limo' while we stood there and watched him fill it up, 'drive' it over and come back to repeat the process. When the pile had sucessfuly been transfered he was ordered to 'drive' it back, meaning he had to redig the pile and transfer it back to the original position while we all looked on suppressing our smiles.

    "The lesson here ladies...?" Our CC snarled as the RCPO began humping the dirt back behind him "Nev-ah and I mean Nev-ah Vol-un-teer for any thing! Do I make myself clear?"

    "Sir, yes, sir!" We chant.

    16 years later and i'm about to prove that i've forgotten that lesson.

    It's the end of our only writting meeting and we're wrapping up the night by deciding who will read what and when they'll read it. Up until that moment all I wanted to do was help script some stuff and bounce a few ideas for the show I had off the Theater Company i'm currently embedded with. I've pushed to get the show to end with a reading from Aleister Crowley's 'The Book of Lies', chapter 23, called 'Skiddo'. The piece keeps with our theme of Initiation and 23 I felt and it was also one of the first things I've ever read by the 'Beast'.

    "Okay" The Magpie announces in a voice that is both shrill and matter of fact, he's decided that he's the director and that a process of creative democracy would be counter productive to his expectations of the direction of the show: "We got the final Initiate piece, then Mama Hen's reading from the 'Principia Discordia' and finally the Crowley... so who's going to read that one?"

    No one says anything but rather everyone exchanges glances quietly amongst each other. That is until I open my big mouth!

    "It's an easy piece to read and a fun one at that" I say with a shrug oblivious of what it is i'm actually doing, "Hell, even I could do it!"

    The Magpie nods satisfied and caws out matter of factly:
    "Fine... you're reading it then!"

    I can here the laugh track and the Wak-wak-wak-waaaaaaa.... music playing. Somewhere, out there in the cosmic ocean, both my former CC and RCPO have gotten huge fucking hard ons as splashes of evil grins are thrown across their face. I had forgotten the Golden Rule of the military: Thou Shalt Not Volunteer!
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    The Official Flyer!

    jack_babalon: (Default)






    Collective Works Inc. and Push-Push Theater Presents.....THE INVISIBLE COLLEGE!

    WHEN:SATURDAY MAY 13TH,2006. 10:30PM

    Roll Call

    Apr. 28th, 2006 01:17 pm
    jack_babalon: (Default)

    I fucking hate meetings! I hate office meetings! I hate training meetings! I hate planning meetings! I hate review meetings. I hate meeting my parole officer and I don't even have a parole officer that's how much I hate it! I hate tele-meetings, virtual meetings and still hate those stupid parent teacher meetings that haunt my memory like the ghost of a lost fart! I hate the premeeting meetings almost as much as I hate the post-meeting meetings to cover anything that wasn't covered by the preliminary premeeting meeting. In fact I have a meeting just for you: My ass meeting my bed for the second time today!

    The etymology of 'Meeting', a quick smoke, the Collective Works Invisible College meeting and how Spider-Man joined the X-Men )


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