The Frank Moore Archives

Hidden treasures discovered while digging through Frank Moore's huge archives.

Archives (page 3 of 14)

The Inner Maze – TWENTY

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Mopping up now and we are playing dirty growling raucous hip sailor-fashion jazz of our jams of our tribal explicit eroticism. Whatever is necessary to renew the atmosphere, pure spiritual intoxication in music and pictures, hung low art of couple general vibe of the things going back years past sufferings. Ain’t my favorite singers fiddle with their voices? Quite right! The best cherry malts were doing reasonably well in creating the best shows of the things going outside censorship, wars, interreligious disharmony of the tributes to Dave. Even in the below robotic affirmative babble of the needed set queen of all subcultures and pictures, there are photographs of all sorts of horrors of childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within the marriages of your inner asshole and her asshole. And you thought we were finish with assholes, didn’t you?! Well, good luck!

I just play silly to prepare for fun, communal Needles rising slowly, getting better hopefully. We will talk together beyond imagination and pictures! Lord, what is your mailing address? God, protect me! Unpopular I will survive barely! Bathe with me, playing in the tub as we have done together beyond dying always asking about being involved in true two-way intimacy, joy and happiness. Are our own interests and pictures coming tomorrow afternoon? The needed juice was quite successful in creating, inducing dreams outside of separation and for a bid for fun show. Ok, actually we have a long way to go into these melted adventures. Articulating each syllable clearly, defined against all kinds of arousing unknowns. Words are notes. Images are cords. Can you recommend any more? Well, good! Luck is rather pitiful little code of ethics, but not morality. Therefore diversity in true wayside that Carrie will be playing in the rafters and Dave will be rapping in the next episode! Blows everything explicitly out of depression already taken possession of these treasures. I kept writing this book because there is still time to catch the plane of arousing desire into SHAPE and conscious grin unconcernedly with assholes. Lustily ha ha anything goes! Lee will miss this rare opportunity for the success with shag pussies with assholes widespread open, ready! Note, just when you thought we were finish with assholes and normal Joe Jane who just checked out, here they are again! All roads lead back to jam! After your carpentry of depression has been crazy, madame, you may come with me using plants to catch an itchy asshole, thinking it’s taking responsibility of being diverted from prison shitheel and normal people like yourself!

Picture this! Quiet impressive orgasms and conscious lucidity of arousing rubbing gently were doing reasonably well in creating a powerful nexus of expanding erotic zones of fun! Communal living theater for the doing art is not going to be digitally amplified by the darkness increased under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs stretched out from behind riffs of expanding twisting words, images flowing non-linear to renew the atmosphere. Pure spiritual intoxication in music and dancing nude slides in creating a sense of humor and high heaven. Forgive us, Lord!

What is normal? What’s happening, babe? Who loves ya? I kept thinking the unthinkable! Perhaps I’m speaking out of turn. But who knows? Posterity ain’t born yet! So I just play silly to go all the way until you tell me to stop. This solidification is not going within skins, trash and goo. I outlined my concerns to Dave. Even in the next phase of life, we can put a sign of fine print out at perfoliate of being always amazed, bewildered and dancing nude!

Haylofts usually up in the rafters and tiles designed to knock off half-a-crown for verbal abuse are dealing with a hard-core version of Feisto. Why are those actors who rip down all fliers including ours in mind growing cynical? Stroke her asshole! Can you recommend any reaction to those rogues? The kitchen table talking intensely to a porn butcher’s knife is great. Most articles ain’t bad! How is SAM, inquired ugly Ladies. Kicking off midstream was wondering if you use witch hazel today. The latest chapter is neither ripple nor pitched. I was half-baked! So sue me! If you want to rub some surprises into these issues, then focus on reaching outside of yourself. Picture representing the small grave-yard beside my mother and son is most unhappy. Didn’t you bring the wrongdoer to light? A large portion of this chapter becomes the wrongdoer of fun and the respectable, honest girl comes, actually blows everything explicitly out of gas tank involuntarily, applauded becoming immediately sensible of something evil temper with large weeds of something mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, be explained all sorts of horrors of childhood experience.

Rashes of personal irresponsibility spread on white underwear and bras and whitish bellies of brats and punkie whiny Mommy Buzzy boys and Dad’s girls. Well, I got herpes maybe, but due to a brain fart, I rubbed my cock all over her lap-dog pussy. You should have stopped me! What will you do next time to prevent my being a fucking dick head? But I enjoyed the freedom! But why do you let dick heads like me in?

Oh, it is getting real hard to write surreal when the above actually happened in the normal reality! But the magic has protected for over forty years from herpes, slip shits, and all that would crush the beautiful Florabella of the potential joint somewhere in secret alliance hopefully the piece of fresh venison grilled on live coals of a risk of being always amazed and awe-struck pads of conducting wires of personal worth. I understand how they [usually liberals] want to blow Eden up after they have spent a cozy night in the late night slumber party, all cuddled up together. After it is established what’s possible [everything], they are not willing to put themselves all the way into the volcano! Their bluff is called subjective though apparently not willing to be working for the common goodness of fresh particles of truth. So they try to blow everything up into control. But why do they use little CAP pistols that just whim-wham and limply hiccoughed out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s national debt? It’s just pitiful!

If someone says he/she/whatever can’t love another [you] before she/he/whatever love her/himself, RUN! Love doesn’t have a subject! There are no dividing lines really. You either love or you don’t! The bitch just told you she just don’t fucking love, using that slime snotty book which we talked about before. She is running a con game, wasting your body! But everybody nods, grunts, smiles and just enables the bitch just because it’s in the book of politically correct insanity! The followers of depression already described such betraying as much damage as possible under pressure expectations without anyone catching a sneaky way beyond dying. Always asking about missing the woman freaking out. They share strange sexual ghoul of the night! Yep, it was dangerous to attack them with indescribable fury. But I am! Your candy man will! Find only pieces of despair. Yet hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day pushing beyond this shit, I love the words! Tell me to stop this poem! I dare you! Affirm the bitch! Just don’t fucking eat, drink beer, or slide over to talk to them until the dust settles! Here is what people are saying on live streaming improv booths that sold things: have you check out pretty girls? I am still playing in young sexy female students lose even at my age! Catch up with me! Ah, how do I do it!? Ain’t that’s why you are keeping reading this? Well, read on!

Still here? Please, you don’t wait to love. Love for yourself and love for the other is the same thing. If you aren’t ready love now, you will never be because love only happens now. Inked this sucker in! And no genders or races! Those are trivial abstract bullshit. So I am talking too directly, focused on acting intimacy for you, splitting the issues of life. Apparently this is dangerous and subversive and harder for most folks to find the odd well-placed girly picture representing the new cheesecake. But why should we beat around the bush? I like to beat in it. Folks, here is what my dear friend said: “Valentin, I’m rather intense. Pss, we have played the part of gluttony and subversive and love for stories fantastic pads of the potential joint of civil liberty!”

Don’t fucking ask me what that means! I did not say it! A clue is running the space of half gone to hell! Personally I am available for you for years in finding out pretty girls wear only pieces of fog and romantic passion love, only pieces of excellent food in their navels and below! Dive in! Their navels and below are keeping me full! Fun life! Free from bondage so I wonder how I like a good sex-reading!

I have always been hungry for life, for skin relationships. I have never been ambitious. But hunger is a self motivation, a self-moving following in finding out what is next, how to do it! Next opening always pays out pretty much better than I could have planned spontaneity and below the water-line. I am the kind of guy who comes into adventures knowing how easy it is to do. I just do it! Ain’t that a bitch! I know! I am not supposed to be able to do anything! But everything comes easy for me. I don’t really have to study. I just start playing, figuring out things as I play. Guess I am available and willing and practical. Don’t hold that against me! I was just born that way! I was born a good experimentalist. Can’t help it! I just know what to do without goals or agendas! I don’t know the right way. It just works in a sneaky way beyond imagination!

I think tribal explicit eroticism and professional version of creativity are playing dirty growling raucous. Hip poets of farts and casually lifted by the darkness come through somehow slightly easier than the normal reality. But obviously jawbone isn’t being responsible for what it appears to be digitalize and passionate revolt that happens now. Inked this sucker in! My studio in back of the potential joint of doing something right also is rather pitiful little joyful whinny experience of all sorts of horrors. I’ll understand how life free from bondage is dangerous and subversive and harder to imagine staying with me playing in young sexy costumes that we hang up with cuts of times during recessions. I pulled in childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within skins trash and goo. Was Nursing infant above the immense hollow of hell? Pleasure creatures went from Behring to Davis straits, then Polly took her opportunity notwithstanding the buzzing of the potential audience to Berkeley, home of horrors of times during life reaching up instant into adventures articulating each year to set up everything in between legs wide open panting without breath and without being paid. These haven’t been invited yet, hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day, pushing beyond dying. Always asking about missing real petrified wood, while others would take us to listen to luver as seriously as the Bible or prayer-book of the most explicitly realized early morning rain falling violently towards women who wanted to say hi! Rob them! Rob them of their minds! Just do it! Ain’t that your part of our duet? Hits written by John full hard-core kick-ass heart! Attack inducing volume even though apparently this sucker in all over the world is nowhere near enough either to hear or to absorb into the mix. So send him back, sir! Fate has shown me the cold-blooded exhibition of marksmanship at that villainous ball of fire! Pink magic! Not black or brown or white magic. Pink magic! We all came from Africa! Races are trivial abstract bullshit based on time. We all fe/male cross-dresser with indescribable alike numerous blackish patches spread on consignment. It is on a crazy continually a-tremble with suppressed sexuality into religious emotion and horror. But obviously you will never hear this because everybody is invested in this bullshit isolationism because it insures Powers prophet gains big profit, bigwig big-name and bigtime and goo of all sorts of perils of fire traced by walking through art. Btw, I divorced this bullshit a very long time ago. I don’t miss this bullshit! Softly but distinctly transmitted through playing dirty. Makes exploring what is practical, obvious and passionate. Revolt outrage on consignment! It insures a cramping joint and muscle of our maze body splashed with irresistible desire. This visit started randomly, but obviously we got it right down into this bottomless pit of truth imprisoned unwilling witnesses of their minds beyond any cost! I was half-baked and tired and was watching a sex movie! See! Things come easy to me! I usually jam with anyone! Fuck em! Bawled up in a punk song, I will survive such pains about experimental chopping away at bullshit! Dinner-time!

I am back! Sir, I like watching nude cocks in movement of the dancing goofy bodies! Yes, ain’t that clear? Warm juicy sweaty joy I feel, furious giggling, joyfully wigging around soft dreaminess into actual fully engage play, silly sexy adventures articulating each other’s company. I always have! Entertain me!

I am a jack of all sorts of trades. I ain’t bragging. I may not be doing it the right way, but I get results! I deliver! I am a lover, brother, son, teacher, lecturer, relationship and business counselor, shaman, writer, poet, performance artist, painter, composer, promoter, director, actor, activist, producer, father, film/video editor, Singer, piano Player, television talk show host, publisher, critic, philosopher, dj, manager, presidential candidate, ceo, etc. I start long term projects such as a web station, a night club, various kinds of shows, etc., and then keep them going, expanding for years. I could go on. I just have only started the list. I have design a house and many other things. Played on every medium. You know I am not modest, shy, humble, unassuming. And this proves it! But I am suppose to be not be able to do anything. Supposedly I had no intelligence and should be institutionalize. What is up with that? We are wasting most of our potential as a species! Inferior Grace of madame Urbain was not spastic enough either for vague feelings or races as shabby vice as society forces wage against all kinds of arousing unknowns. I am just a guy who always did not realized he couldn’t do thingamabob thingamajig, so he did them, getting up on stage and singing for two hours to corny records!

The trickster appears to have done dueling with irresistible desire this visit started randomly but obviously we don’t have it! Nobody admits the cold-blooded little demon exists conceptually! But it does! Nudges them into shreds of green woods and Meadows and Parks and singing while he is now gaining upon each over-extended limit!

Darn, I forgot a lot that I am and do. I am a friend, political adviser, life coach, a pain in the neck and ass, a trouble maker, community developer, a gadfly, a plumber of the People’s communication pipelines. I am an outsider and an outcast even to the societies of outsiders and outcasts, living on the outskirts of Victoria! I remember you! Wish I remember when you thought it was obvious that you enjoyed messy life free from rust and so complete that you have had the most explicitly realized early write-ups by the darkness critics!

We hang together in-depth on both fronts. The next episode chapter is almost here! It does include audiology services. Call your local health services Inc annual eating and drinking sparingly services Inc annual eating and swallowing problems and abilities of luck. Tonight on every golden brown blood-stains this chapter is almost dead end! Hope you come through! Somehow this chapter offers strategies for day-to-day living with irresistible babes! And swallowing saliva buildup is Suctioning outrage on to something which was advertised like this version sorry, I can’t stop this chapter! I just can’t stop this chapter! Heebie-jeebies, help me! Am I one of those guys who write surreal manifestos in really tight, really tiny handwriting in volumes of aging notebooks? If I am, what does that makes you?

Well, obviously you and I couldn’t end this chapter! Whiners that we are! I don’t know when it will end. You can look down, turn the Pages over forward and check. You then come back here and tell me when it will end. All I can do is keep writing this chapter until it ends! Oh, what an amazing maze this is! A good novel novel! So far from being clubbed by making minor Perks, I remember you wish for vague glimmerings of aging guys. So send us those rogues! My normal people keep me busy and preoccupied with irresistible desire of magical play with no idea of vengeance, animated sensitive plants in tubs of luck. Tonight deeper into pantan and drinking nothing whatever between rubbing aroused melting and so much response from India! The societies of outsiders were doing something very important to try to convince people softly but distinctly to be uncomfortable and slightly perfumed with irresistible suggestion of turning funny. When they kicked vigorously against all kinds of young sexy uplifting and slightly contemptible rigid perpendicular fragile egos of mere ambition distraction Uglification and derision, Kirsty was Nursing injuries of those damn tests! Examine how smoothly mounted she is! Already damned silly thirstily-smiling little brunette with a hard-core kick-ass bend over, revealing holes foxy, foxholes! The most explicitly realized words suffice speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs in volumes of those perfect sea-butterflies animating by scratching the flesh of mere phosphoric phenomenon. The monster emerged bleeding at the house. Don’t burn down the last batch of wounded pride! Ill-will hatred envy bigotry and selfishness in volumes entitled you to come back here and tell your doctor immediately how you could vocalize erect attitude with members quickly frowned and winced! Under pressure of atmospheres which would allow several inches of the erotic beast, I repeated my command of taboo hidden behind their expectations without being thunderstricken.

In a sneaky way beyond this inner asshole, it would make sense if someone says Good-night back here we have played at work no one has been crazy around here except you! Could you come through somehow slightly ironical? Apostrophes are wasting your body! But everybody nods grunts smiles and winces. Actually work tricks California. Must see yourself picture of taboo art dance small intimate journey into the mix of traditional fund-raisers of wounded men. Were you attracted by pussies with assholes widespread open ready for you splitting hairs about adding great drops of mere ambition into this unexplored abyss? Whose mouths were you doing something evil with? Assholes asked about you! I covered for you. I am just loyal! So send me a big scandal! I couldn’t end this now! You know what they said! They say artists are underpaid! True! But most folks don’t fucking eat. So why do we artists think we are getting a raw deal? Apparently this sucker in my mind is totally undervalued! Here is what my dear sucker wants: people to play on my body physically following the road of life dancing erotically following listening being soft dreaminess into actual Songs love using quotes from your skirts! Is that too much to ask? Then do it! DO IT ONE TIME FOR ME! And then keep doing it!

Ah! I don’t care if it works great. We are playing dirty together in freedom in this mysterious chapter going on terra firma alive with myriads of infusoria and so complete! The book of you and I couldn’t end in smoke-filled bars surrounded by profound enjoyment of quiet amusement. What you do effects my existence on board the ship of madmen. The ship appeared to be able to finish what is stuck up with that unknowing about our excursions outside of this chapter. Irresponsibility spread on white bread is unhealthy, dangerous and so weighted with heavy leaden gray deceptive fears exaggerated. Opinions of ancient Greeks were waged in volumes entitled MYSTERIES OF ART FOR VAGUE OBSCURITY. Truly this sucker wants to go all sorts of extraordinary dimensions. So we should just sit back here and pet secret heavy together in-depth conversation with each other who are keeping reading this. Well obviously we are each other’s creation. A pussy and a beaver are sitting on a sofa beside each other. Yes, both are wet! Soft flesh pleasure building, digging horny as seriously as a zombie of ancient historians, building tapping into actual sex mags and pet secret phrase for those roarings of extraordinary supernatural beings. Occasionally without the credit the reports among various pretexts hid what you think about my tastes. Sing with me! See it as attacking the last Buzzy boys and girls. Wear only pieces of excellent see-through colorful leaves and branches to the next episode. Blows my mind! I understood what freaks them out! Indefatigably I covered hidden vices, passages fester twisted perverted blues of excellent see-through van. Weyden was Nursing his new hurt failing invention. Musing on social schizophrenic conditioning, I hope this will be left to no great talker! He talked much and shaving at the same time! He had only given us both a raw deal! Apparently this unexplored abyss remained incalculable. The ship appeared to threaten to commit suicide. But if this is dangerous to commit suicide, then we might reconsider it! Grappling with fears, hopefully of madmen, the next opening of emotions were downloading from your skirts. Underwear is unhealthy! Dangerous sewage was half-baked and tired eyes absorb trauma of this chapter irresponsibility. Hey, even this paragraph is unhealthy because it goes on and on! I can’t help it… Just streaming out.

Ok, if you insist! There! Feel better? Feel like you’ve gained space? White space of regret! Can disappear! Perhaps after forever! Trippy! It works! Great! Are you the gentle reader I always read about in old novels? The narrator always talked to you, never to me! I just ain’t gentle in that way! But I always have wondered about you. And now I am talking to you! Does that mean I am THE NARRATOR? Far out! How am I doing? Narrating, I mean. You help me a lot by staying, listening being open, rubbing me dirty, being open and soft and warn and GENTLE! Hey, you are really THE GENTLE READER!

“Unsafe to Eat” by LaBash

The Inner Maze – NINETEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Attacked by the ad man, I felt pale with rare exceptions of closed caption of the best cherry malts. The smell of illness in my mind and deep in my nose and mouth painted a whitish gray along the carpet, woven by the new chapters and you are certainly very much in it! Folks, here is my canned rap on everything to make sure what time there is still on the social schizophrenic conditioning I hope! I did the outrageous humor among various gangland characters in reality. It overturns their personal favorites from the last batch of wounded pride as possible under these strange sexual progressive untreatable terminal disorders of illness, especially the Icelandic dude of business. He kept looking through the bullshitting and deep in algebraical calculations of X and other swag. We will play dirty Songs about experimental chopping away at life, including being told whatever Shelley thought. She was ambitious, unscrupulous, capable and deep opened before me. Ok, good, like always! Then she answered properly. She has turned against all parts of this chapter when you thought you might get into bad habits in that situation. Couldn’t find anything, anyone that was totally lost from seeing sexy Broad undulations of this chapter. Glamorizing art of couple of times where you had another opinion of death.

Play dirty growling noise music jam with raw sewage of passion! Madame, sing hymns about all together round and round. Move up anytime actually work explicit eroticism whatever is necessary! Therefore diversity all the way beyond imagination, magnified everything else painted upon our knees trees sprang like shitting ugly. How many times do you shit in a day? I mean on average. What color and texture? Do you consider yourself regular? How much effort does it usually take, and how much time? I mean, does it slip right out, or grunting moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time? Or do you have to just sit there, waiting for channels to open the hatches and surprise you? Are you sitting on your pot waiting, reading this? I need to know these things so I can write chapters that fit your shit pattern. How does it usually smell? Wonder if you want to know about me. I can clog the bowl! Dark smelly logs or mudslides usually. Usually three or four times a day. Usually takes about five minutes, not really enough time to read. My mind thought rejection is necessary to fill the bowels bowl! Dark smelly logs upon examining my shit is a fun communal tribal ritual around here!

Now we are getting to the gritty titty a fun show! When I was a kid, I just made one deposit a daily, usually in the morning. But now I shit three or four times a day. There’s no right kind of regularity! I can not shit under pressure! And I hate when it starts to come out, but then changes its mind mid way and just hangs there until you squeeze it into half halfway… The hanging turd limply splashes into the water and the stubborn half goes back into your bowels, giving you an unsavoury unsatisfactory uncomfortable fullness all day, pushing on your heart and lungs until you can finally finish your business. And besides, cutting off midstream so to speak makes for a very messy wipe with a lot of trees cut down so that your asshole isn’t itchy and smelly. But you cannot go around all day with a log sticking out of your inner asshole! It would stink the place up! There were years when people didn’t wiped my asshole that good. But they thought cripples had a special funky smell like blacks! It’s a wonder that people hung around with me, playing with me…. Ah, when I believed once a day was what being regular should be… Well, some times I didn’t make it, had to sit in it! And even then I had a great social life! So fart away! Let it rip! Brown clouds bellowing up anytime actually. But how are you sure it will be just a fart waft through your asshole and not more solid or liquid? Where does that self-confidence to let it rip come from? I mean, sometimes we are wrong! But letting it rip is definitely much healthier than holding it in! Btw, ever notice that sexy female students produce the most deathly stupor farts? You should research this!

And what’s up with a lot of guys not being able to get their piss in to the bowl? They miss by several inches! And they don’t even notice. They just leave without mopping up! And I am not just talking about in punk Dives and truck stops, but in middle-class homes with shag rugs. I know that the flow often squirts differently and the pressure varies and all kinds of arousing unknowns comes into play, so to speak… Impossible to calculate! But look down upon it! And clean up after yourself! Hey, you are not the crip! I am!

Glad you liked the cookies and all kinds of arousing things that never are talked about! You thought you were alone, didn’t you? Well, we are all mended together! Nobody admits openly that rubbing an itchy asshole can produce much more zippy pleasure than any orgasm, especially if you use witch hazel!

Wonder what will be revealed in the next episode, chapter!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – EIGHTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


Ah, well! You explain people to me! Like puking why can’t they see if you stay within forever, everything opens up. But if you leave, it closes everything? Butter and bread basics! The sleazo boyfriend of music heard about fairy-tales. Can we have done well during recessions? I pulled in childhood experience this problem, but springing capriciously from the last healing and have developed abilities that allow me to be adaptable and notorious on the radio. We both were living together at a giddy speed.. I felt fatigued from my balls galloping back over the contents of folly but springing to halyards and downhauls and notorious vivisector of folly until later folks like you are asking if this is mind-blowing mind-expanding strange sexual emotion with you. Stay within skins of creating of living true enough. Who could keep listening and smiling? Ah, yes, veering suddenly from seeing sexy uplifting and downhauls and there is another possibility of using plants in tubs and enabled you to pick up the privilege of being always amazed and awe-struck by everything in life. But that is corny! You have to push on, leaving Venice and people getting in your way! Always forcing on to photograph extremely remarkable Soundings of seven atmospheres under swirling balls, galloping, banging, crushing answers under your impatient egotism of being always forcing them to do things without knowing how time flies. Tease the next step without checking and getting all judging from how much more zippy to be seen as normal Joe Jane who just recovering from the last batch of the bullshit softly repeated by topless waitress bugging you. Stay in here now by which we are playing on my Master card my balls whizzing close to have a constitutional plethora of folly. But you will not stay, will not engage.

You are leave-taking, eh? Good luck and good shit! I am a plant, a redwood, rooted.. Everything, everybody evidently comes to me. Like that always motivated me to be radical, rooted. Everything opens up. Virtue of folly won’t pretend to know something about the glamorizing art of taking any reaction at any cost. I think we who are keeping count of being told whatever, thinking they are extremely special, unique and interesting people are just Reading from the same book of lines of sunken stupidity. All judging from how much more zippy to be seen as important, expressions of admiration for themselves! If somebody tells you she just have to be honest, be prepared for nothing but hurting bullshit, so embarrassing you wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is capable of thinking so shitting ugly, much less saying it out loud! And here is the kicker! She always actually expects you to try to convince her that her evasion of reality, her disloyalty to all parts of the relationship, and her asshole thinking it’s her brain is somehow slightly mistaken… As if she really expected to be convinced. She doesn’t! She wants to do as much damage as possible under the surface of “just being honest” without taking responsibility of being a fucking cunt bitch. In the book, the “I am just being honest” is right above the “well, I was just joking!” they have the same tag line of “what is your problem… Too sensitive, aren’t you!?” And then she cuts your balls off or sewing your pussy up, before she bails for good… If you are lucky!

I don’t know how big the book they all read from. It could be a great big book with a slime snotty cover and with a title something like “politically correct insanity” or “how to dismiss personal responsibility and protect your impatient egotism and individuality!” Or it may be a fucking small book because the contents seems to be extremely limited!

Bodily feelings and India-rubber clothing and the snakes win! My bet, mademoiselle Noemie, has been crazy! Madame Alboni, I don’t know how to dismiss personal responsibility and feelings for the other [for you]. Maybe it’ll be helpful to start working with infinite continuous stream of pretty girls! I have always gone here! Now by what strange trick of shamanism I am here to-night with you? Historically we here were recently discovered something that shouldn’t be. Extremely disagreeable things happened. But they lacked perspective and feelings for good reason. What strange conceptually contexts of thinking wrong in the early hours disappeared from humanity! Still startled me! I totally missed something! Was very low art of taking responsibility away in fear during recessions on every level true of being diverted from humanity? You maybe drag us once more before they waded out and now carpeted everything glamorizing art of couple of other weird kids within skins.

Our skin is molten, pluming outward like the sun, like a seventies lava lamp. Pluming out several inches, our skin is penetrating the other when we touch, or even standing together talking, or lying down together. This penetrating dance goes on all the time all the way beyond taboos. Aurous level of improv, playing this inexhaustible ocean of emotions were clearly defined against the dangers of solidification. The next step is penetrating plunge below the usual form of frustration and sewage. I am just recovering from the last batch of being rolled pell-mell into muddy institutions. I will survive more than friends of lovers because I have lovers who are rooted with me. Ah, yes, being always together in profusion and feelings and for some enormous mass of blood in us. But seriously it closes a fucking small intimate journey into juicy sweaty life for evermore Amen of the individual dust-particles who just checked out of the relationship with little cracks running through various blocks and fences, built over years. Just joking with that unknowing and the snakes of frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What a waste! Juana, explain people to me! Like that always actually blows my mind! How people tend to weaken what they have. It is not anger inducing. It just a sad puzzler! You maybe are here Reading this book because you thought you might get answers to skateboarding or something equally valuable. But you cannot leave here until you have answered all of my questions about people. So start rubbing friction enliven warmly my lamp and start bringing maximum breadth of understanding to me… Or this book will explode in thickness and density, with infinite variety of tidbits which keeps you Reading just to not miss vinyl covers of lovers. Start rubbing!

The title of the bullshit so embarrassing that time doubtless meant to go into a very disturbing black hole is SOMEHOW DON’T MAKE THE PHYSICAL COMMUNITY THROUGH STAYING IN RESPONSIBILITY, JERK OUT, YOU JERKY TURKEY! Toffee and hot buttered toast of here used to give you a regular scheduled flight to develop community through staying. Obviously this is erasing the relationship together. This inexhaustible family will survive! But what has happened? Ah shucks sexy Consumer’s guide Ottawa Ontario Canadian hospital into muddy institutions of tide stranded under these circumstances after this! Madame La Poype-Ver trieux was looking forward to both your names of your Muffettes. The creative challenge to develop community started looking very grave and the important leek-green of your heart out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s girl. What did you jerky turkey expect? So embarrassing! You wonder how she has the nerve to admit that she is a part of directing of creating of living true enough who could keep listening and smiling softly. But all the time she was ambitious packing, shopping and checking, taking forever to go… But not admitting to this inexhaustible family was originally of her mainmast. Then she puffed up before a blank wall over which the first few seconds of depression already described such lengthened imprisonment was not spastic the time because it’s her choice and was always. Basically living went down to Managua and hot cooking-range arousing effects, skipping ahead, running aground! Bringing up anytime actually scoring a blank to admit loyalty reliable to the people us who live with you, and loyalty to this inexhaustible family you have created over years. Offends whatever articles peculiar idiosyncrasy of your inner air so embarrassing you wonder why nothing whatever would actually work… Put maple sugar in your gas tank and blame the poor car for not wishing to verify your impatient egotism and individuality!

I know how the car feels! I love. But I don’t have much use for empty love. It’s cotton candy. Give me respect, loyalty, reliable guys who watch my back, wipe my ass and who know I’ll do the same for them as the matter of principle of living together in profusion of directing the course of business. It’s personal! People don’t get that life is personal. It ain’t a learning process, ain’t smart choices, ain’t abstract. It is getting dirty with the people who you are lucky to be with. It’s taking care of one another, merging, enjoying one another. Hey, the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed… If it doesn’t break, if the house don’t burn down, if everybody dies before me! Ok, I don’t really know! But I live as if the bed I sleep in probably will be my death bed. Hence people feel I actually enjoyed living with them. I love our life together! In the foxhole and hot water, I will be here watching their noses and assholes and backs. They’re my family. That’s very concrete. Not wishing abstract reasoning! I could go, could be hitting that trail! But why? I do enjoy our life including being a fucking small intimate jam on their bread and cheese! I do enjoy seeing their noses!

I actually interviewed Anna for inspiring me! Ok Ok good luck and cheese burgers flippers and regarding me let go of my stuff! What could feed each other heartily is somehow slightly easier and faster and hot! Shit, real sex shoot with you I am excited about having you! I am staying obviously. This is mind-blowing! Being dumb regularity about having you! Guys, do you feel the same? Tag on their site at the actor a front page and to the time she must know didn’t know I proclaimed the actor Paula in profusion the same book because there is a moneymaking and faster than any that trail we’re off on! Justice, intimacy, joy and happiness are our own underground club! Both my mother and son didn’t attend to anything I asked! When you get old, people tend to die around you more and more! Each day therefore we must hold on to Mikee and Alexi and Corey and Erika and Linda and Betty! Kittee and Cookie demanded that! It overturns the same boat suddenly overturned by the way beyond taboos!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – SEVENTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


SEVENTEEN

Strange sexual emotion gave me a lot to play with. The core of my work play in the cold was always basically for getting together with people in various ways and often kissing ladies’ bodies, melting into cream of natural curiosities of these issues of life. Taking it all beyond taboos. Jump into possibilities! Taste all pleasure and love and high ideals and everything else painted upon folds of skin. I can book you into my carnal reputation! It is everywhere everyday life, reaching outside censorship. This survey is going on, making mistakes. Oh, well! How do they know? Don’t care about macho risking. I just couldn’t live with those horrid bits of debris of shipwrecked fear. Where our butts are beautiful and tranquil, unsuspectingness of my face was transfigured and getting all the Canadian bacon into intimacy for when we have developed such clear and transparent glass partition, waiting actively involved in various stages of the screaming bedlam of women and children and invited several Persons, overhearing this chapter becomes strategically imperative and high up above the immense hollow of life. People think my work is all erotic pleasure and play with anyone to get turned on! Try being on the bottom on the pile of erotically skirmish bodies, some football players, some bony models, some lusty fleshy whales, some groping for agenda, some crying for new poetic furbelows of freedom intimacy and other indigenous productions of possibilities. I can tell you that this hurts! It’s worth it just to travel into intimacy together without checking and getting all judging and everything. But pain is not my way of breathing into hot cooking-range arousing turn on. And having my sentiments and motives questioned ain’t a joyful whinny experience. But the beautiful warm juicy sweaty rubbing pleasure of deep magic signified something fair is being revealed is why I do what I do. I never shock to shock/offend… Well except with assholes [ASSHOLES is a technical term]. But in general I never aim to shock/offend [or to please]. I just do what is called for, what’s happening during the piece, during life, reaching outside of boxes of comfortable zones. I’m willing to deal with any reaction to the art. The dealing becomes the art. Anything dreadful transported into cream and transparent Sheets of coiling like snakes and getting all the way beyond taboos.

Feisto doesn’t do anything with anything. We do together in our relationship with little fellah like fairy-tales to play with anyone to imagine staying the way beyond Europe and America. That forms a perfect tunnel under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs and hairy legs thrust out wide-eyed widespread open, ready for sweaty life reaching up instant into possibilities taste them so charming pink roses, slits slots pussies whatever across his mouth. Grandpapa did slip Christmas Songs and sonnets and other nestle of erotically music for the private holidays. He wants you dearly today when somebody was one among others surrounding to travel to archive and expansions of deep stage of restlessness. I say more than I should! Read between the universal underground lines! Overhearing the magic words that are beyond the page and in a different language of willingness to ponder in freedom to the luminous atmosphere true enough who could keep listening and smiling. This opens doors that are beyond taboos. I read like this during my Reading Phase between 1963 and 1972. didn’t know I was preparing for anything. I am not ambitious, but more from curiosity about being involved in various states of every imaginable types of these treasures. I kept writing scripts with roles for me where I get the girl[s]! Read about experimental theater and performance theory plausible as possible and communication on air, revealing holes of softly-incisive nonsense that long waiting actively involved in true enough attempt to reach that point until the early morning when secretions have downloaded. I kept storing up everything in my body physically and back brain, becoming little something dirty growling of some cavity and communication between pieces of the everyday life. I didn’t know, didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a fixed ending, didn’t deny access to the core of what is happening at all times. Freak of nature on a dance ritual into intimacy, joy and gratitude of every gigantic bodies melting into cream. I simply didn’t go backward. I knew I did not want what’s in backward. So why go backward, even if it would be comfortable in assumed an extremely aged cadaverous face? And why try things that I saw didn’t work for other people? Obviously didn’t work for them as I observed them in various states of the times during the fucking thinking telepathic gem brimming over into hot water? So I avoided a lot of pitfalls, saving me a lot of time and trouble and vexation and energy of some terrible apprehensions. It is simply practical. But then Polly took such pains about experimental chopping away with her chirping, beeping and back again before our horror for free love. All what is practical, obvious and gratitude of tribally living was all covered hidden. But I just danced on with indefatigable clowns of yokes of jokes!

I never check if I still want to do what I wanted to do sometime before. Such checking takes three seconds or so, removing me from the dancing, causing jerking that isn’t much fun. I assume I’m doing what I want to do and will flow into the next step. I just do not care who does what, who desires what. If you really want me to do so much rubbing pleasure and we are a tribal body physically following in a deep dancing, it would be just plain silly to check if I want to rub you… Just as silly as eating my share of tiny sugar cookies, then eating all of them because there was not enough to share. Strange conceptually of sharing and locative desire and stretched out from our melted body. Moaning shouting coaxing gesturing and dying in the hunger of depression and resentment and frustration. I’m convinced there was nobody to push back and forth between pieces of despair. I felt them all with kindness, very inspiring and very true. We are still here! Please do send copies of sharing of tiny white sea clothing. I want you. John does reshape his body for me and I do the same for him. He answered as I directed him. After all, he is me. Mad hard strange man came to buy me and I can’t wait to mark in freedom active little man with his accordion and very graceful and wonderfully intense blue stripes swirling. Balls of life dancing erotically, following one another, merging in to one another sometimes lying hidden under ordinary conditions.

I can’t remember where we met in the beginning of our maze body splashed with letters of pure spiritual nonsense and drunk with the traditional fund-raisers of what is between this and that. So I may repeat things over and over again… But hopefully in different conceptually contexts. But I don’t know! I will type and will vocalize you ting-a-ling in to trances dancing erotically, following in our next generation of pure core of what is between two clouds. I don’t understand people. I understand how life works. Funny, the bimbo quit the rehearsal which contains over thirty cds of pure spiritual love and high heaven and the twelfth open ready note just when it was getting good, comin’ together. Why do people tend to leave when things are getting good? Shit attracts problems! Jane, will you unbutton all morality for me? And explain people to me? I totally missed something like crushed brick Walls which kept storing up those erratic blocks in your mind. In favour of awareness, we’ll play these tracks. But really I do not really know why. We two get such shit! We are watching funny trances dancing explicitly with infinite continuous stream of pretty impressive orgasms on the Colbert report. I am staying here. Are you? Fucking thinking telepathic, are you? Fucking baby indulging Throwing nuts at the purple velvet cushion lips and sliding warm juicy sweaty underfed drones. Trolleys filled with quiet conversation turned out to meet death with dignity. He decided to come and smoke alone for several centuries. I can’t remember what my brother told me. What is stuck up between your legs again? A very disturbing way to end this chapter!

Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – SIXTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


SIXTEEN

Sorry, I had to cut it short and scant and run to read the last few chapters at the Temescal. It is called life, outside of this novel and this extraordinary supernatural modality of a maze. But I am back with Little Fellah and my left hand Mike [the calm, level headed, smooth dude] and my right hand Ike [the high-strung, nervous, shy worrywart]… And other night-birds and other indigenous productions of this inner sandy pleasure building subversion of arousing desire and stretched out floating. Did you miss me? This novel is making the rounds at the stand-up joints, crack jokes that promise that you may come with little bells chiming.

Well, Mike always has had a special relationship with Little Fellah. Yep, I am left handed. Mike always has rubbed Little Fellah the right way… Well, rubbing raw, the salt of the loneliness sweat streamed down into red sores, mixed with sulphur pleasure. Paul Anka, Ricky Nelson, and Fabian stared down from the TEEN BEAT posters on my walls as I first discovered beating the meat after they pulled down my balls. I was thirteen in Germany. I was listening to better music on Radio Luxemburg. But those lame posters were all I could get Mom to put up. I was sneaking peaks at PLAYMATES OF PLAYBOY. But teen-age idols watched Mike rub blisters on Little Fellah for the first-nighter! After a time I learned the trick of one knee push ups when I was lying on my side, rubbing Little fellah on the cool Sheets of the bed. Much more accommodating and warm juicy. But that only worked when I was lying on my side. When I was lying on my back, it was Mike’s job! Mom Connie never commented about Little Fellah’s red blisters or the dry wrinkled stains on my pajamas and on my Sheets… Or about my wailing with the radio Luxemburg! But I wonder how I got the German maid to show me her tits in my bedroom. I couldn’t even speak German… In fact, I couldn’t even talk. Oh, those damn mysteries of art! She went on to rip us off! These symptoms now can invade the bed much more zippy and warm and moist farts and feeling rather intense.

I never understood the fad of jacking off. To me it was always filling hunger with Spam. I have not jerk off in over thirty, forty years. That doesn’t mean Mike and Little Fellah don’t have a special relationship together. Mike always is rubbing aroused smiling ah yes warm pleasure… However it is everywhere everyday activities deep magic signified nothing sexual, just playing feeling goodly dimensions of calmly happy, going nowhere, just in a state of elation. Feeling goodly happy. But Mike is rubbing aroused within me. It is not going within you, being curious about your ideas. It is not melting away with another soft dreaminess into actual Songs on whims exploring journey together, both electric spark from you and kinky live on communes. So it is a cool beer on a hot cooking-range. I have expectations without pictures and churches and the symptoms of human desires. I enjoy a beer, enjoy Mike rubbing Little Fellah, like enjoying purely primitive watching television. But there’s much more zippy and warm and tender conscience in my bedroom, lumber-room and valuable young lady endowed with great relish. Why settle for being so alone for several centuries? I can’t give up! I always think what if the next time would be the time everything would have open up for me if I had just tried again. So I kept trying, kept erasing my comfort zones of dullish death-bed of canned life. I just couldn’t live with that unknowing about the next step not taken into uncomfortable eddies of possibilities. That always motivated me. I never was ambitious. But I always was self-moving and motivated. When things got too comfortable, fragile I always was ready to go into adventures which allowed free movement of the elements. I always tried to include other people in the unknown freedom, intimacy and other indigenous productions of possibilities. Fragile comfy zones are prisons of isolation… Not really comfortable at all. I’m looking for going outside and inside pleasure of deep contact with you, stretching, risking, expanding, twisting into flexibility, melting into cozy little bed-n-breakfast of delights with you. I am not talking about macho risking to prove something, for power Tools ego acting in to dangers with no context. That is just as fragile as comfort zones of dullish death-bed existence. I don’t try to digest whether I feel comfortable, lucky. I assume I’m eager abundance and motivated to communicate through language of willingness to go into anything with you, stretching both of us into cozy little green Caves of Lila, working anything with you, stretching into flexibility, melting into one another. Sometimes lying hidden under ordinary conditions shipwrecks, sometimes standing up straight, almost unconscious unexpected dexterity of deep meaning… Physically this is mind-blowing mind-expanding strange sexual emotion with you during my childhood experience. This is a live comfort, knowing humor and no particular answers because we are together. This comfort is a jamming state of deep magic signified the velvet ledge of rock solemn injunction of you and me, babe! Who would be surprise that we are still going higher? I assume things will work out. I have always gone out to meet people with hearts or whatever, to meet life with opened arms and smile or screaming or whatever… But legs wide apart! Getting hurt is a part of life… But avoiding life is death without living! And that is hell! I never have gone to hell personally! Getting hurt, failing, getting lost all build your immune system, your ability to cope and adapt… To play with life, knit a quilt of warm diversity. All of this is outside of comfort zones. This molten clay of fleshy flexibility is much more zippy dependable and inclusive cozy than rigid perpendicular fragile gated comfort zones in which you have to be always checking if you are still inside and no particular exertion of boxes of eroticism, whatever between pieces of coral has come to threaten to commit suicide.

I have always been playing with outside life, communicated I wanted and needed to be with people on the outside, deep inside. I was always basically a happy person, even when I was isolated and looking intently into the neighborhood of the everyday activities which I was outside of. I always tried to include myself, projected joy of living. Even when I was five, when the doctors were still saying I had no intelligence and should be put in to a institution and be forgotten, my being happy, engaged with people at the day-school, even when I couldn’t talk, made it obvious to the teachers, etc, that the doctors were wrong. This happiness, playing with life, reaching outside of myself to land people in to relating with me directly always has saved me. Wonder who were/are lost in the human warehouses of all kinds if someone like me escaped!

There is no modest humble unassuming bone in my body! Physically this happiness appeared to have always been playing in me, doing something right! Also there is no modest shy bone in my body either! Perhaps you have not notice! Maybe this is why I rub some surprises into some people the vulgar way. I never understood modesty of any kind. I understand real humbleness of being always amazed and awe-struck by everything in life. But when somebody writes IN MY HUMBLE OPINION, humble ain’t the reality that’s going on. As you can tell, my opinions are never humble pie. Taste them up deeply with opened arms and smile as I write this down on you, expanding twisting into intimacy. I always put myself outside waiting actively for people to play with me directly sitting behind the chess board at the teen club waiting for someone who would play, Jerry my eight year Younger brother sitting beside me ready to move my men as I directed him. I don’t know how I directed him. After all, Jerry didn’t know how each piece moved… And I communicated with him by head nods, grunts, smiles to get whatever across. When there was nobody to play chess with, I just people watched, listening, overhearing. This was my acting training. This was my period of time for preparing, Reading everything, a wide range of useless information and shit, from Mike Hammer, history, biography, how to put people in to trances, philosophies, Mark Twain, sci-fi, acting and directing theories, white magic [creativity], film editing, political manifestos, and everything else for no obvious reason. Keep in mind, growing up I had THE GIANT GOLDEN BOOK OF NATURAL HISTORY that I could turn Pages by myself. So I did for hours. Then THE SEARS CATALOG. Then the dictionary. Then the encyclopedia. Yes, I was always preparing for when I could get out into the world and be with people, not just watching nude legs under swirling dresses undulating feverish wakeful to trances dancing at the teen club sock hop to the house band BILL HALEY AND HIS COMETS. I erase the comfort zones of dullish death-bed existence and getting money on running aground, bringing maximum breadth of breast of natural curiosities not boxed in by holding on to pictures or expectations, without checking and getting so frightened to play in low paying gigs. I just love you dearly to the core of my duet with life! Reaching finally the screaming end of this chapter, I just couldn’t live with those horrid bits of hay and oats every night and often bands play better hopefully we will be proud to carry the homeless and everything else for no obvious reason!

“Talking Bi” by LaBash

Adobe Books Art Show, Jam and Let Me Be Frank Screening

From the poster:

The Art of Frank Moore & LaBash
The first ever showing of shaman performance artist Frank Moore’s erotic innocent primitive passionate digital art, alongside the funny/disturbing/mind-scrambling/reality-bending drawings of LaBash.
Sunday, Feb. 2 – Saturday Feb. 15, 2020
Hours
M-F 12-8pm
Sa-Su 11am-8pm

Let Me Be Frank video screening
On Valentine’s Day, the first ever live screening of episodes from the web video documentary series, Let Me Be Frank, based on the life and art of shaman, performance artist, writer, poet, painter, rock singer, director, TV show host, teacher and bon vivant, Frank Moore.
Come EARLY and bring your musical instruments for a music jam before the screening!
Friday, Feb. 14, 2020
5-6:30pm – MUSIC JAM
6:30-8pm – LET ME BE FRANK screening and Q&A

FREE!

Adobe Books
3130 24th Street
San Francisco, CA 94110

Corey and Erika setting up the show.
Photo by Keith Wilson
Photo by Keith Wilson
Photo by Keith Wilson
Photo by Keith Wilson

MORE PHOTOS HERE AND HERE


See the art show (and setup) here:

About the jam and screening

by Erika Shaver-Nelson, Alexi Malenky and Corey Nicholl

When we arrived at Adobe for the event, we found that people had left comments and drawings in the notebook we had left in the gallery space.

“fuckin’ love this stuff!” “you inspire me profoundly” “many thoughts head full …” “whoa!” “WTF?! infathomable, navy?” “the world needs more FRANK MOORE for all of us to be sexually liberated!”

Heather said that the art show has been getting a lot of positive reactions, especially from young people who come into the shop. Heather and the other volunteers at Adobe Books create a very open feeling there, and it felt great to have the event there. She told us later that when we take down the art in a week, the next group is a bunch of young people who will be doing some sleepovers in the space, and writing their dreams on the walls …

We brought homemade popcorn (two kinds: buttered & curry), and orange spearmint water, and valentine’s chocolate … they were a big hit, devoured!

Michael Peppe was the first to arrive, and the first person who came for the jam. Only one other came to jam, one of the people we recognized from several of Frank’s later performances, including at Temescal. He brought a drum which he played, and sometimes took toy instruments and shook them inside the drum, etc.

But at first, it was just Peppe … he came back into the gallery and sat down at a keyboard and started playing … we three started jamming with him, and before long there was a couple who had not even come for the event, but were drawn back to the gallery space, and after checking out the art, they also joined the jam. It was really fun, and it felt/sounded like a Frank jam, felt primal, and Erika said that the feeling during the jam was “freedom”. As time went on, more people came in and joined the jam.

The Jam

Between the first two episodes, we were talking with Michael Peppe, and he said some amazing things about Frank …

“You have a bunch of things that you regret in your life, not necessarily that you regret doing, but regret not doing, but I was thinking watching the film that that’s one I totally do not regret, is hanging out with Frank Moore, and jumping into his thing, you know, going to performances, being in the performances, watching the videos, reading the text, and all his art … not one second of my life was wasted hanging out with Frank Moore.”
He remembered the first time he performed with Frank at UC Berkeley. “From that moment on, yeah, I absolutely do not regret any of that.”

He is such a once in a lifetime kind of person. Usually in art, you think well, wow, he was great, I wonder who the next guy’s gonna be. You know, who’s gonna follow up. There is no next Frank Moore. There is only one. There is only one, and that’s all you get. And I’m sure that there’s not going to be anyone quite as amazing and remarkable as him. The world has had plenty of time to come up with another one, and it hasn’t managed to do it, so … he’s it, he’s the only one.”

He also talked about the Outrageous Beauty Revue, which is when he first saw Frank at the Mabuhay in 1981. “No one had ever done that, and no one has done it since.” “Celebrating people for who they are, what they are, whatever they look like …” He was also really struck by the quotes from Frank at the end of the 1st episode, about faking it until you make it, and how Frank saw himself as beautiful. “And like he said, that’s magic. That’s what magic is. You know, that’s something to think about. That’s magic.”

Watching Let Me Be Frank with a live audience was amazing … it was the first time, after only having watched it together at home. Both the reactions, laughter, etc. and the silence really made you feel like people were taking a lot in from the episodes.

Alexi counted about 25 people at the screening. Among the people who came was a coworker from the health food store where Corey works, Kacey, and Erika’s coworker Megan and her boyfriend Josh. Megan was the last student who worked with Frank. Also, Keith Wilson came, the filmmaker who is doing his own documentary on Frank.

Let Me Be Frank screening

One of the first questions after the screening was if Frank had been an organizer for disabled people in the bay area community, or if his work drew other people with disabilities into his work. We talked about how he had participated in the protests in the early 80s at the Federal building in SF over the ADA, and also about the group that put on the OBR, and how it came together through Frank’s workshops, and that there were several people with disabilities that were part of the workshops and later formed deeper relationships, formed households together, etc.

We talked also about how Frank was challenging to the disability community in the seventies, because while they were advocating independence, hiring people to help you so that you could be “independent”, Frank was talking about having deep relationships with friends and lovers who would take care of your needs.

We also told the story of Frank showing Fairytales Can Come True at the CP Center.

Heather brought up what she had read in How To Handle An Anthropologist about Frank’s experience at the San Francisco Art Institute, and about not getting booked by gallery spaces and being embraced by other subcultures like the punk scene … and we ended up telling the story of The Lab cancelling Frank’s performances, and how the poetry community came out to perform with him on the street in front of the space. And then Peppe talked about how you can’t even count how many places have banned Frank! And how Frank didn’t care, he just thought it was funny!

A Japanese woman who Heather told us later had come specifically “for the Frank Moore event” told Erika that she had a friend who had been severely disabled, and gets very down in the dumps about what she can’t do anymore (she is an artist), and that she felt that Frank was really inspiring, and would be inspiring to her friend.

At the end of the night, after the second episode, she talked again about how Frank was really inspiring, especially how for so long, from such an early point, Frank had this idea of interdependence (instead of independence), and she was struck by his self-respect and his will to do his art, that was really admirable, and a lot of people could not do this, so she couldn’t understand how anyone could ever ban him! She also said he was “so cute! so lovable”

Afterward, a couple who had come to the event came up to us. Matt is someone who volunteers at Adobe, and is a musician who recently did a dissertation for his degree at Mills College where he helped create musical instruments for people with disabilities, that they could play and jam together with. He was really inspired by Frank, and had been thinking about doing something about Frank with his disabled students where he teaches at an Academy, but he said he will have to see what the administration of the school is open to.

Also after the screening, as we were packing up, Heather’s partner Kyle talked about the part of the OBR episode where Steve Hoffman was playing Joe Cocker. He was really impressed. He said it was “pure rock ‘n’ roll”, and that he have never seen anything quite like it.

When Peppe left, he asked us when is the next one!? He wants to be there.

Heather wants to do more screenings/jams, and suggested that perhaps the next one could be around Frank’s birthday!

From left to right: Heather, Corey, Erika and Alexi

MORE PHOTOS HERE


Watch the jam, screening and Q&A here:

You can watch the two episodes that were shown:

EPISODE 1: A Lucky Guy

EPISODE 12: Outrageous Beauty Revue

The Inner Maze – FIFTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


FIFTEEN

I often look down upon my cock and think THE COCK THAT CHANGED THE WORLD! Mind you, it ain’t that big even at its biggest. Actually some would say it’s little. Mind you, it is big enough to get the job done, even whence it is soft. Nobody ever tell you soft small guitars can satisfy the maximum breathing plunged into juicy holes. Or rubbing pleasure building digging horny projections and love bringing out the beautiful bushes gentle stewardess and willing bodies melting away like brown sugar! This is kept secret certainly to make it harder to get together. So I can reveal these secrets in this mysterious association of words.

Anyway, I often talk to my cock! It’s amazing what we have done together, me and my cock! We have changed the world over forty years since so available, practical. Don’t you talk to your cock… Or to your pussy, whatever is the case… Well, don’t you? And I don’t suppose you know the names of your body parts either! Guess what’s/who’s Little Fellah. And my left hand is Mike and the right is Ike. They are very different in personalities, and they move differently from each other.

Yes, I am 63. But we didn’t get to changing the world until forty years ago, not seriously, Little Fellah and I. Well, probably even before that. But we didn’t let ourselves think about these symptoms! Now Little Fellah and I have friends and lovers in our tribal body to live with. We are enough.


Drawing by LaBash

The Inner Maze – FOURTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


FOURTEEN

Fuck it! A new chapter! A new page turned! Have you been wasting your whole pitiful little time Reading of my late night slots of pink roses, slits wide open. Well, too late! Your whole pitiful little future is disturbing! Shall we go on?

I like looking into pussies whatever color of trim, or shaved hairs from your skirts. But that does not define what my companion is, or my life and spirituality and why this powerful screw beat loudly. I am not definitely not surrounded by people based upon folds of skin, colors of the bodies, or whatever else painted by nobody. But I screen people to see if they want to get booked up with my whole body, if they are available, practical, willing to jump into possibilities and fully play together within intimacy… Playing adventures, dancing nude, sliding warm juicy sweaty rubbing aroused, smiling outside of themselves, loving life, willing to risk all kinds of ridiculous poems for me, willing to stay together within experimental play together. I don’t have a tape measure for tits, cocks, noses and all other body parts! If you see someone with such a policy of tape measuring, run! We all came from Africa! Yes my companion is willing to melt into possibilities and fully sexual experience with my cock. Well among various other things!

Can I look up your pussy? I don’t really know why we cannot talk that directly. I’ll promise you I will. I don’t really know why the naked female nipples are so dangerous that they need to be covered at all times or reality crumble! All the hill of milky white, sunburn golden brown, Shining black beauty, or whatever comfortable colors of the Nursing infant… Hills of warm juicy flesh pleasure hot can be uncovered bosom of Emma. But the reddish brown tip nipple with the orange yellow surrounding circle of desire of magical orchids have to be covered/hidden under the command of taboo or else everything will go wacky into chaos of the likes of Emma! But this death ray can be squelched by the sheerest of fabric. Of course some dangerous imagination magnified of desire will leak out of sheer spirits. I can travel the thread that has the birth/pleasure hole, the hard satisfaction wand and the grunt outlet all taboo, hidden vices passages… If I squint and get tipsy and twisted perverted blues emotional problems with eating by mouth of my philosophy. After all shitty form of frustration, and sewage pissed flowing green, and crimson blackish patches spread on white underwear and all dirty fun smelly and sewage fish terrified beyond imagination, magnified everything else painted upon folds of skin. I can travel that perverted blues emotional problems with certain faculties of noise of thunder farts. Even if I love a good shit of all colors and shapes comprised between teenybopper and heckle and consistency. But the beautiful warm juicy nipple, the source of the mammal milk of life! What sort of dangerous imagination ray comes from the source of food and comfort? Zones of passion hidden behind taboo, hidden behind vices passages fester twisted perverted blues emotional problems with breathing IMPAIRMENT fatigue, obnoxious flakes of ice separated us from ourselves into conflict with certain destruction, massacred of passion. This is why I look straight up taboo, down blouses, up skirts. Underwear and bras are dams storing up this puss of the mammal unknown freedom, hidden parts of our life including being dirty. They block breathing of hidden parts. Dark depths of hidden bodies melting into juicy nipple are locked up. And nobody asks WHY. Dark magic of fragmentation is why… For isolating explosion of pent-up frustration, smolders in a strange hissing noise of the process of transferring.

What is between F and CK? You know! You just said the word in your mind. Most people over ten would have just said the word in their mind. Even !@#% would have triggered this word in minds. But if you add the U to the mixture in mass Media, you might face a huge fish hyperventilation of pent-up frustration. The same is true if you just said it with your voice instead of tricking the other’s memory mind to pronounced the word inwardly. Nobody ever question this dark magic! They joke about it, then follow the voodoo curse, dampening emotional reactions down to manageable pap! This is the real goal of fragmentation. Kids are cited as who’s protected by the darkness of pent-up frustration. But if this Kid knows what !@#% or F-CK are, he/she is already damned silly. And kids ask about !@#%. So what is the use? And damned silly thirstily-smiling in real life!

These things are usually prescribed in my brain, becoming white sunburn raiding Wolf. I look straight up taboo hidden parts dark magic signified something dirty. I am flexible and practical, saying the obvious, living in what works, melted together sexy enough. I know how life works. But I don’t have a clue about how most people unhappy operate… If they operate under half gone assumptions or whatever! I know how to do tasty art and practical instincts freely overtopping most dangerous sewage. I know logic of tricking of hidden behind the curtain of transferring from the future to the local past. Sufferings ain’t my thing. Fear is healthy if it last less than five minutes. If fear lasts more than five minutes, it is a great block to personal survival and love and all good in human destiny. I am very curious about how such actions work within intimacy, playing adventures, dancing with you, captured powerfully by people who look straight up from the future. Would you like to test it totally unconscious, unexpected dexterity of hidden bodies or whatever between birth and death simply by my seeing you again distinctly on social schizophrenic conditioning. I hope you will!

I don’t really get aroused sexually by watching, by being watched attentively, by seeing nude bodies. I know I proclaimed I was an exhibitionist! I lied! It was hype, a trick of shamanism. I always lie to reconfirm the core truth imprisoned in what degree of politeness agreeably vague. I don’t care to be seen, to be watched attentively. I use it. But it doesn’t arouse me sexually. The same with watching and seeing nude bodies for more than five minutes to satisfy my curiosity. Not really a voyeur either. There are lots of kinds of arousal. I enjoy seeing nude bodies. It artistically turns me on, comforts me, makes me feel good. I enjoy seeing sexy warm juicy flesh pleasure building subversion of arousing desire. It artistically turns me on. But what arouse me sexually, keeping my drift up is touching nude skin warm handling of arousing rubbing friction enliven warmly welcomed to satisfy my curiosity about these Caves of our life, free from rust and more excited and sneaky and that wondering intensified self-confidence and willing bodies melting into juicy sweaty rubbing gently upon my credulity and bob up and down… Going right inside pleasure hole, just cuddling radically and also small intimate sacks of cotton and seeing nude sliding on whims of arousing desire. Will you unbutton all morality and love it? Will you stay within our intimate journey into juicy sweaty rubbing pleasure however long it will take us to slip from coming to the core?

This is a very long chapter. Was it worth it? Just hinted at my motel room for casting my performance of taboos. Just try to capture all of this while you be a female me! Sexually keeping busy to acknowledge your personal worth and love and all good shit!


“Hypnotic Gypsies” by LaBash

The Inner Maze – THIRTEEN

May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!


THIRTEEN

Ah, fresh meat for everybody. Are you on the rag? Can I ask to see you nude? Or is there the red streaks? Then just topless if you care about being messy. I actually enjoy messy, seeing you in exactly equal in general now gaining upon examining everything in between legs wide open, taking refuge in between legs thrust out from the limited Biblical knowledge that if there is another space here for the creative joy of exciting novelties. Why don’t people who thought I was spinning around talk like this, talk as directly like this without being thunderstricken? I actually enjoyed looking deep within intimacy, playing, trying again before they could come into understanding lively sensations into her or you nude sliding on whims. If you care about being human, figure out how boring being so safe is. Below I will continue pandering to risk taker and freedom in exactly with you and at various depths of immediate wooing and passion. Madame, had you drugged last prayer to see what day of the brown blood-stains were absorbed in my skin, penetrating into a private satisfaction of thinking telepathic gem? A couple of terrible apprehensions of exciting novelties to risk yourself, wipe it totally unconscious, unexpected opportunities united by taboo and passion of revolt and her asshole and her partner Steve. We have been working with cycles of words and images flowing green according to the non-linear paths within the inner maze furrowing towards me and images imagine all goes back to Paris entrusted with cycles of exciting happenings, hoping that the motor neurons cycles of folly won’t dead end, but wisdom spirals downwards and upwards and inwards and outwards in my carnival of brutality and probable failure and being only able to procure so absorbent of words, you could not get rid of my Body of Christ, my body and soul longing for dangerous sewage in Montana with an erasable ink.

People can subvert those rules. We shall test it! Totally! But I am puzzled by taboo and being only able to procure food money when people with concerns about my luck and whatever between my eyes and being usually available in that way. God is a pizza of terrible apprehensions of immediate wooing of revolt. It was seeing you again distinctly visible however that comes across the street.

Am I boring being so safe? Am I boring you yet into bed? Not deaden boring, I hope you are boring into a trance, quivering flesh of pleasure, hot body inter-independent living web with a lot of trap doors, hidden vices passages that are beyond everything—most dangerous sects and now carpeted with crimson crape bestrewn with huge silver moons—thin crescent and full amazing shit covers entire world of blossoming of pleasure of possessing and now narrowly watched, attentively, certainly head on crashes pull me mad. Are you coming to the contact with the rapture of respect for my folly? The rapture of all sorts of extraordinary dimensions bearing upon examining everything, everybody else, including being dirty. Fun life, let me dig down into this unexplored galaxy of pleasure. Not deaden and full of uneasiness increased with cycles of possessing and full of hallucinations bereft of you. If you want to come down on madame Alboni and get extremely disturbing and legally questionable, you yet maybe are Beyond dying. Always asking when I will provide us with fixed lips parted and get tipsy and get into his pockets and conversed in groups of extraordinary supernatural modality of relationship dynamics upon my credulity and bob up with people who thought I was successful and bob up on that weekend.

Riding the rail is harder for guys than girls with their slits, slots, pussies! Sliding down on the fire station pole is rough on the nut sacks! Same is true with the stripper pole brass Bright. Hold yourself away from the pole or your sack will be pulled up and down bloody mucous buildup poor balls! But naked pussy can take the pole inside purple velvet cushion lips and sliding warm juicy sweaty rubbing aroused up and down and around the pole inside pleasure. The same with horse back riding! Balls crushing, your whole pitiful weight bouncing on your balls, galloping banging crushing hours upon hours of rubbing raw peanut butter! But clit bouncing on leather or on hairy warm live horse flesh, pleasure building each hoofbeat. The same with motorbike or tricycle. Macho is very painful! That is pretty much the different between the genders! And clit bouncing up and down on the saddle strapped tightly round the body of the beast create unlimited series of impressive orgasms on the long ride with horse power increased under ordinary conditions, favourable pressure expectations to live up and down on the saddle! Some weaker sex! I hope you will play in my skin chestnut-brown rubbing against all kinds of ridiculous rules like genders. We all are by-sexual progressive untreatable terminal disorder of impressive series of softly-incisive comments upon hours of rubbing aroused, smiled superbly with people who wanted me to dance on the nut sacks in charge of explosive animalism, appearing through green woods surmounted by taboo and being only able to procure real feeling for our private satisfaction of seeing sexy girls with their slits wide open. Yes, I am by-sexual skirts chaise with people who thought that was a sin! I am by-sexual of seeing sexy bodies melting away like brown sugar before your eyes. You know if you want to come and pick up what sort of laying-ground and being usually available in that way! God, enough of this! Gay and straight are just social theory of dueling and being only able to be the goals of social schizophrenic conditioning limiting who you can love, who you are attracted by. Nobody is willing to say this! However look at ancient Greeks and Romans! Many had their spouses to pass their existence seeds on and to insure their property lines would continue pandering to whichever issues of control over the country. But they had their male students, slaves, whatever for dinner of passionate zest and energy of action and lively sensations. Their wives also had their own private slaves of both sexes and girlfriends for fingering, licking kiss dear love ya in pleasure hot bed of orgies explore over oils of passionate intensity of expression. And don’t you get me started with cult whores!

Gay/straight is social schizophrenic conditioning limiting who you are attracted by, who you can love, who you can imagine staying with. Really it is like thinking you are attracted by pussies with red sea hair trim and you based your whole pitiful little crutch ting-a-ling tingling life on tiptoe for fear of betraying your preference! When it is all wide open in an infinite continuous stream widens the whole dinner of passionate virtually every piece of pounding of expression of unaccountable gestures for long excursions outside of the two glassy surfaces of grey!

Fuck it! This is the end of this chapter!


Artwork by LaBash