For some, the waves of life are small and steady... occuring at a constant frequency of limited amplitude. For others, the waves take on tidal proportions and resonate with the power of a singularity woofer injected with an infinite amount of wattage. The rhythm of my life seems to fall into a range inbetween and is an ever polyphonic harmonious-dissonance. I suppose I should be grateful my life is not an eternity of elevator muzak.

Generally, these industrial-strength rhythms of life inspire me to translate their energies into more concise patterns of artistic expression. That which flows into me is filtered and flows from me. As the last three weeks of January were spent laboriously taking inventory of the previous Mad Psyence Labs facility, and boxing, and lifting, and toting, and storing, and boxing, and lifting, and toting, and storing, and boxing, and lifting, and toting, and well... you get the idea... I wasn't able to express myself creatively during this time aside from creatively packing cardboard boxes and scribbling their contents on the lid with a Sharpie. This sort of mind-numbing robotic oppression tends to fuel my fires of creative expression. I anticipated the closure of this passage so that I could get on with my own interpretations. Ah, but, this piece contained a coda, and the fat lady had yet to sing.

As in many cases with computers, my new problem started out bad and only got worse before it got any better. While in my final week of boxing, and lifting, and toting, and storing, I received word through ZeNO Urias at the new Mad Psyence Labs that something in the internet communications device had gone horribly wrong. Immediately, my paranoia kicked in. Had the Octothorp finally found me and started their infiltration of my computer systems? Quickly, trouble-shooting began. But... to no avail. Nothing further could be done until I had returned to MPL and examined the situation in person.

Finally, on the fourth day of February, the inventory was complete and I could return to the new Mad Psyence Labs to exorcise this new ghost in my machine. Well... the fat lady was only just starting her warmup and the boat was already rocking. The ride was rough, but I rode it out. By the time she had reached her finale, I had spent a couple hundred dollars and an entire frustrating week finding and fixing the problems on the primary computer here at MPL. As the crowd cheered and the fat lady took her bows, I restabilized the balance of the ship and sailed for calmer waters of Concors Discors.

As Debra Harry once sang... "The tide is high, but I'm holding on..."

During the inventory, I came across many old photos I had taken and decided to add some of them to the Fotogon gallery in IMAGES. Asleep at the Wall, Blackberry Berret, Headlock, "Say Salami", and Stilettos are examples of my photographic work from the 1980s.

Well... until we meet again, my fellow passengers... MAN OVERBOARD!!!

Just kidding...

High Octant of the Council of Eight
Mugician and Doktor of Mad Psyence

Felix Furlow