Dj Calliope Marakasu -- Siamese Journals -- Lyrics for Monsoon Operas

DJ Calliope Marakasu
Siamese Journals -- Lyrics for Monsoon Operas

Part 1

An Introduction by Mr. Greg

DJ Calliope Marakasu is one of the most literate, foul-mouthed, and interesting individuals I have ever met. He has squatted in NYC, poured crash victims into buckets in morgues, and smoked out with the Khmer Rouge. If there was ever a man capable of comparing the aesthetics of Norman Mailer to Merzbow, it is Mr. Marakasu. He is a world traveling spinner. His personality is unique, defined by the dual pillars of a squatter's aesthetics and an instinctual understanding and draw towards cultural Interzones. Mr. Marakasu, a former resident of Florida, New York City, and Eugene, Oregon, is currently exploring realms of southern Asia. No one can give props big enough for this guy and few can match his gift for conversation. Packing his vinyl on his back, attitude in his pocket, and wit on the web, Calliope has been kind enough to send the occasional email of his experiences. We look forward to more of his missals in the future.
[If] you find him, buy him a beer, and talk.
You'll leave with stories you love.
[ Editor's Note: If you would like to correspond with DJ Calliope,
his email is cmarakasu (at) hotmail.com ]

i apologize for not getting back in touch sooner, but yr last mail was so stultifyingly witty, i had difficulties formulating an adequate response. since we last compared notes, i've spun the first ever rave in penang, malaysia, spent a month watching rice grow in southern laos,and explored the labyrinthine interzone that is post kr cambodia...cambodia? yes! no! no! yes! no! it's not all that... it's funny...listening to dieter and you rant about the place, i'd expected it to be some sort of everdark goyaesque netherworld, where corpulent,sluglike warlords and their black skinned goblin emissaries ruled over hordes of doeeyed zombie slaves. the truth is, it's a lot like laos with more cripples and worse roads. the khmers are some of the weirdest asians i've ever met... they seem eternally distracted by something occurring just outside yr field of vision...as if they're trying to tune out the world around them so as to better listen to the voices in the wind... dealing with them day after day, everything begins to take on a strange air of secrecy, as if there were something insidious behind even the simplest of scenes ...their inchoate spaciness made it hard for me to find friends anongst them, altho i did get fucked quite a few times...at two bucks a shot, even saints like me can find it had to stay celibate...yep, when it comes to low budget decadence, virtually no place compares...weed is legal and sells for .50 a kilo...heroin is more plentiful than wine, and ketamine can be purchased at any pharmacy...but, you know, the local music fucked me up better than any of it...plaeng khmer sounds a funky amalgam of javan gamelan, chinese strings and dub bass...

     hey okay! high five a man like the california king and hiz pet boy tha sun ov mogul! good to be reading from you again at long last! what kind of shape am appearing on your own personal television stations? heard you went head to head with the syndicate and came out a voodoo prince! and london? and gira? and property, too? non stop pimp action!
     me myself and eye have just returned from the taupe swirly nation of myanmar. probably the oddest country i've had the blissful ecstacy to visit. it rather resembles an mulligatawny of all southeasy and india's phattest traits, with an added dollop of electric fascistic eccentricity. every man, woman, and child in the country wears a lungyi and smokes foot long cigars. they speak a language of metaphors wriiten in broken circles, eat nothing but garlic and entertain themselves by forcing cats to jump through wicker hoops. on top of all this they're some of the friendliest humans on the planet. i know i say this sort of thing all the time, but really, their kindness is quite singular. once in mandalay, i became lost while looking for a certain street where i was told loads of dissident artistes could be found. using my best burmese, i accosted a monk who was walking past andtried to get my self reorientated. spoke excellent english, as it turned out. he didn't know the neighborhood i was looking for, but he insisted he be allowed to make up for his ignorance by taking me to lunch...he was a monk! how could i refuse?
     after a sumptuous repast of curried duck eggs and rice, he gave me a tour of all of the many nearby temples, explaining everything (and i mean everything...) about them in lush detail. he then introduced me to a local comedian. we hung out for hours, drinking tea and talking shit about the government while his lovely wife practised burmese dance in the front yard. this monk was a great reader, and when i mentioned in passing that i'd heard mandalay had some great used bookstores, he decided it was his duty to walk me to each and everyone of them before heading back to his monastery for evening meditation...big up thee u go! this brother was truly superstar, but far from exceptional amongst the burmese, as almost not a single day went by without something similarly charming taking place.
    it's a shame such beautiful folks have to suffer under such a degenerate government. i won't bore you with details, tho the fact that amnesty international has voted them number one in the world for human rights abuses for the past three years running should give you some notion of the shit these people have to put up with...on top of it all, they've made the internet illegal for use among the general populous, thus making it rather difficult for me to keep in touch...much apology,etc...right at the moment, i'm in bangkok looking for teaching work. my funds are running kind of low,so i need to find some sort of job, lest i find myself back in the states ahead of schedule... triple golden happiness,

bigroundofapplauseforthadeeangeeconspiraceeeeee!!!!! heytherehitherehotheregladtaseeyaandhowdoyoudo? me, myself, and the little monsters in the pudding write now from festering penang malaysia...did i mention i had a horrendous drug experience and almost got arrested the last time i was here? no? remind me to tell you about it sometime...even tho no one here has any reason to reckon with me, i'm still sketched the fuck out, constantly looking over my shoulder, attempting to figure out who's after me and why... in my quieter moments, the city is as charmingly dilapidated as ever, a uniquely decadent pastiche of all of china, india, and portugal's kitchiest cliches. the food truly kicks a llama's ass, if i'd failed to mention it...i'm here to have my visa renewed, then it's back to bangkok for more adventures in the language of anaemic queens. songkran, thailand's sopping wet answer to carnival, was last week. wish i could report that i'd spun several brilliant sets and tanned half the asses on suttisarn. instead, i spent the week in the hospital, recovering from the concussion i won in a headbutting contest with a taxicab...broke my right arm, too, which means no wanking for at least a month...fuk...what's up in the kingdom of things? any new acquisitions? how's chocolate? shaun? still going to england?

Mr. Greg: Seeing Shawn today. Should be live. You sound a bit mellowed out. On Prozac again, or just staying laid?

Calliope: both, actually...scored this incredible indian shit while i was in myanmar. i swear to god, i am more peaceable than i had ever thought possible. sex sucks. the more you have, the more you want...if only i could be an uptight tekgeek again...life was just so much simpler then...hope to hear from you soon.

Calliope: hello greg and son, how the hell are you? it's raining like crazy here in penang. i still have a couple hours to kill before i can pick up my visa, so i thought i'd take the time to drop you a line...i'm going to let you in on a little secret here, guys...SHAUN IS PERFECTLY NORMAL. ya'll are the funny ones...having said that, did you get his mailing address? and what is yours, by the by...Just finished reading CITIES OF THE RED NIGHT. Good stuff. As was GHOST OF CHANCE. Also poking into books about Santeria and stuff. i reckon cities is about the best thing burroughs has written...good to hear you've gotten around to reading it...myself, i've been attempting to delve into some of the books miller continually mentions in his writing...dostoyevsky, faure, hamsun, spengler, etc...christ almighty, it is good...read a russian today...et cetera...

Mr. Greg: Are you going to Benin or Mali? Man -- we watched a video on those places and they look amazing.

Calliope: hell fucking no. yes, they have mesolithic tribes, fine music,and wild christianity. benin is even known to be the birthplace of hudu, but from what a beninian friend tells me, white skinned backpackers are just not on in that neck of the woods...the only africa i'm likely to be involved with is madagascar, tanzania, and uganda, the latter two only because i haven't been able to cancel my plane tickets. the notion of going out of my way to experience travel even more dangerous/difficult than india or cambodia seems kind of silly to me these days...

Calliope: i'll do so as soon as i get back to bangkok, as i-net time is kind of pricy here in penang...a question if you were interviewing cambodian opposition leader sam rainsy, what would you ask him? keep it real,