let it play very softly in the background.
made in the dark on a transcontinental flight somewhere over the atlantic ocean may 10, 2015

LINER NOTES:

"What we can take from this is that John Cage composes like nature is composed: indeterminately. The creatures within nature who interact with nature (the composition) have to accept their indeterminate role. Perhaps this like a Boddhivista who attains enlightenment and then chooses to come back to live in the practical world to share what he has learned (this is the idea that in Zen all is indeterminate and aesthetic, but that we can not forget practical living).

Simply put, interpretation is indeterminate... interpretation can be a valuable outlet to creativity, but also the methodology of interpretation can characterize leisure (interpretation as imagination). Leisure is the illusory propulsive essence of epoch which is the essence of power, and thus indeterminacy and creative interpretation (as with listening) in the end serves the status quo. Leisure evades political consequences...the act of interpretation is a creative art form directly spawned by leisure (which allows imagination that creates and destroys the world) and leisure is a myth to uphold our habitual assumption of identity.

About NYC...Been a resident since about 1996...Though I’m not convinced that the influence of any Manhattan aesthete necessarily encompasses any influence of true meaning. And also, given the context, implementation of borough-style could be ironic/mockery. I don't know that I believe in complete originality all that much.

Perfection is not the crux. My understanding of the Hegelian dialectic is that it's a series of contradictions that bring the spirit to higher and higher levels...modern state being the highest, an ideal which Marx destroyed for materialism, the hope of which post-structuralism destroyed (through Foucault and displaced power structures to the point of ineffectuality).

Perhaps "ai a e r pl n"'s essence is about exhuming something essential – unearthing the concealment of something precious. But what’s actually hidden is a lack of source -- its a seed of questionability, undermined by hope (the desire for the redemption of an actual proof). The truth may never be revealed because the narrator is unreliable, aloof/controlling and lacks explicit credentials. Yet, what remains is a truth inherent through traces and hues... during our assembly/confession, the interconnectivity/relationship between intuitions and individuated self-hood will become real... i.e. a confessional process which assumes identity insinuates truth.

PEOPLE ARE THE POWER AND YET AN ETERNAL RETURN TO UNKNOWING – only through the fearless EXPERIENCE of revisionary death does one gain an ecstatic/transcendent knowledge and presence OF PEOPLE."

- Kevin Shea