Saturday, January 24, 2026

Ziggurats & Boltzmann Brains. Are we living in our memories 24 on 7?


 "I look at the world like a simultaneity of past lives and personas. It started when we got back from Italy and were first living in Brooklyn. I was working at that paint shop Sirmos in Long Island City. You remember the Citicorp building, the lone blue green glass monolith that at that time was the only building of that height and stature in that area. I was walking to the G train after work. It was end of summer early fall and the sky had dramatic Turner/ Frederick Church type clouds and I was struck by this overwhelming feeling that I had lived this before. That I was some artisan in the service of some king or something, and that Citicorp building was some ziggurat. It was beyond overwhelming, like two lives superimposed over each other, identical."

   I remember you spoke about this moment-- at the foot of the ziggurat, of blue glass. I’ve had similar experiences -- in many places. I feel attuned to this kind of resonance. Your message also got me thinking about why we get anchored into the past as archetype? Why do we want to forget the future? What if we look at time all wrongly?  Rather than the Ziggurat as template for Citicorp, what if Citicorp was the previous life of the Ziggurat? Or are we always in the same situation or scenario and the names only change? Why don't we know the future name for this structure? If we knew the name could we not re-name it, change it? Is there no escape? Is there anything our creativity can to do to alter things or is it already written in some kind of fossil?  

   By implication, if I interpret a bit what you say, it seems to me we are always in the shadow of some pyramid, megalith, volcano, oppressive market system, government. Some source of shock and awe. But I seriously wondered about the thought process that keeps us snapped into our trapped dimensionality here.

Why can't they see the vision nor hear the music?

  I have been having dreams I don't want to wake up from where everything is very good humored and always morphing. Seriously having a good time being Morpheus and the Mother of Morpheus. What keeps me from being able to communicate this sense to people? Why can't they see the vision nor hear the music? Thinking about your Citicorp and Ziggurat as two incarnations or configurations of archetype, I asked myself again the question about time and, if it is possible, to see around the corner of the megalith. What does it rest upon? There are suns far larger than our own. And Gaia has her own body-mind. Still, the human fixation is such that it can become nerve-wracking and frustrating.

  I'm thinking about, hey, why don’t we get a future “glimpse” or sense of what’s coming out of this kind of moment, because it’s as if we could walk into the next manifestation of this identical or parallel scenario. Or bypass it. If we only knew how.  What if we are already the future, that future we would rather be be and just don’t know it?

 Why can't I go out dressed magically?

   Buddhist and Vedic meditators melt time into ooze evaporating into transparency -- "all the time". 

  So what? Why can't I go out dressed as a magically mirror-faced four-legged walking wardrobe with constantly changing hair color cracking jokes in a language whose rules of grammar are being made up as each foot falls into the span of wing that sweeps away into some plasma naming itself via movement? Is that not what is happening? Why are we bound to this brain-span that is “getting a job and walking the walk?’

 What is a Boltzmann Brain?

   Anyway, even before this so-called morning, I went to sleep after reading an article that maybe your Citicorp/Ziggurat stardust put in my way via synchronicity. About the Boltzmann Brain. The thrust of the paper was multi-tiered, co-authored by three science geeks, so I cannot cram it into a few sentences. But one thing they wanted to show was that the classical Newtonian second law physics of entropy that results in this hypothesis that there is a Past moment (previous state), the Past Hypothesis, that is not any different from the Boltzmann Brain hypothesis, which states that a brain can exist, exactly like mine or yours, with all it's experiences and memories firmly in place while being created by entirely random combinations of elements and forces of the universe in millennia of evolution. This Boltzmann Brain would be your brain but without you. A pretty strange idea. The paper discusses how the role of circular reasoning in the Boltzmann Brain is in exactly the same circular reasoning used to justify the Past Hypothesis (where there is some historically or scientifically verifiable version of reality, with a starting point and an endpoint -- like the Big Bang. So basically the Boltzmann Brain Hypothesis called into question all theories about memory. Memory is a memory of a memory. How an event got stored as a memory of an actuality is subject to the law of entropy. The further away you go into time, the more it is just memory of memories. It became such a maddening thought that I hit google maps, plugged in the address of the house I lived in with my parents in 1970’s, where father’s parents lived upstairs (also with Babcia Florence) upstairs, a house that had belonged to the previous generation of the family, 416 Walden Ave, Buffalo, Neuvo Yawk. I did this search because I recall it was still standing years ago, unlike other Buffalo houses where I or other family had lived, razed after fires, cleared. I found 416 Walden Ave there on the street view. The surroundings had changed but the house itself looked structurally unchanged from the outside. I felt pretty sure I could still map the inside, sketch it out for anyone. I still can walk in this house of my memory. And yet, boom, there it was: I could not verify any of this. Probably never will be able to. If I could however, it would not allow me to change the past because it must always be that way. But will this house always be as it is? It seems highly improbable but it is a question of structure: 416 Walden has a large-basement and strong foundation. It stands because it has this solidity of stone. Monolith. I also noticed the house two doors away, which in the old days was the domicile of the family of the caretaker of the Concordia Cemetery, it too still stands. This house connected to the Stability of Death and its burial grounds rooted like it’s trees into the soil and culture. 416 Walden Avenue was said often to be a haunted house. They meant ghosts of the past and perhaps traumatic events. I wonder if the house was not actually haunted by it’s Future. Why does my mind return there so often? If the power of my thought is that strong to haunt, I should have more money in the bank. This of course is taking things a bit too far.

 Regarding Boltzmann Brains:

https://www.santafe.edu/news-center/news/disentangling-the-boltzmann-brain-hypothesis-memory-entropy-and-time



Saturday, January 17, 2026

Notes & Links Prepatory to Collected & Uncollected Phonographies Virtual Box Set aka Field Recordings Made by Jeff Gburek

In Reverse Order of their Chronological Apparitions in Gaia's Space-Time Coordinates, as of this Typing, where Reverse & Order is taken as a Nod & Bow to the Currently Dominant Materialistic Linear Chronotopy.

(an Asterix, that little snow-flake star, will be Affixed to the Volumes that are Strictly Field Recordings-- by which I mean that all the sounds where recorded in some sort of real-time on-site) 

(a double Asterix indicates a Hybrid Collection where some Instrumental Overlays app-Ear --added later in the Studio and Veering over into Soundscape) 

**  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/interemergences-i-ii-2026-islaz-untethered-summer-field-recordings-from-the-fluvial-crossroads-of-the-danube-and-olt-rivers

  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/sound-travels-in-babadag-romania

 * https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/the-apple-orchard 

*  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/grindu

** https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/baltic-ozones

 * https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/fire-sky-june-4-2024

* https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/iftar-with-the-swans-march-15-2024

 * https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/the-radio-the-sea 

  * https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/padurea-comunei-ordoreu

*  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/romania-bulgaria-monastaries-gorge-streams-storms-other-animals-of-sound-2022 

* https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/charleston-south-carolina-2006

* https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/bulgaria-sound-specific

*  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/polish-soundscapes

* https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/eirelans

*  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/romania-phonographies-2015-2016

 **  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/baranca-del-cobre-meeting-with-the-raramuri

** https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/maidan-2014

  *  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/bayou-coquille-louisiana 

**  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/the-only-escape-is-a-dream

*  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/stinging-cassettes-java-bali

 

 

Monday, January 12, 2026

the sequence kick-started again, owing perhaps to the first volume going into PDF -- some closure, then some opening Gaza City Blues by Jeff Gburek, 2026 Chorus 52

 

the sequence kick-started again, owing perhaps to the first volume
going into PDF -- some closure, then some opening
Gaza City Blues
by Jeff Gburek, 2026
 

 
Chorus 52
if it were not so cold
if I could recall your true name
if the damned heavy
silence did not buzz
with viprous flies
& the clock not
coldly stalk my empty hours
with technical seconds
clinking like coins
spent on heating bills
& rent to pay the system
for it’s own endebted
futures, I might remember there are
swans somewhere, white and black, bonfires
of vanities, contrition
& that ever so central
yellow
rose
in Gaza
abloom
on the edge of

Thursday, January 8, 2026

Thoughts Out of Time (It's too late to be late again)



Thoughts out of Time
 
The word "time" is tricky, whimsical in a sense, for some of us, at times, time is non-existent. Or it's measure is extremely relativistic to the point where it eludes consciousness. And yet, as in Bergson famous duree, time founds consciousness but only because it is forever incomplete. Time even seems to have a life of its own that we know almost nothing about. Much of it is sub-conscious. My heart beats and keeps a tempo, variable in some us who have arrythmia, but also my heart does not count nor think itself into being unless my brain discovers an alarming irregularity. When we run out heart gets crazier. Time slows down seemingly as we speed up. In this sense time is seeking an inertial state of balance where it can maybe "rest" and become unconscious again. Time seems to want to forget itself. Time is the bearer of many paradoxes. When we go to a job that we don't like -- or if you were the kind of kid who hated school -- you watch the clock, hoping it will over soon. The more you want to speed time up the more is seems slow. When we play music and it is exciting we lose any sense of time. Yet each action in music measures time! When we are making love we'd perhaps like it to be endless but we do eventually run out of energy. Time is relative, then, yes, to the energy available. And time seems to be related to the way energy states are triggered. Can it be that when an electron jumps from one orbit to another creating an isotope that time and space are created? Well, one of the things I think about, or contemplate, is the ionosphere, using my VLF radio. The thermodynamics of the earth's atmosphere creates the Schumann resonance and this in turn shapes our sonosphere. As the ionosphere changes shape and merges layers or shrinks we the temporal rythmn of the day night cycle radio waves bounce differently and quasars filter through the plasma of the Earth's geomagnetic field. Time is some major mover in all of this and yet we cannot grab time by the collar and get it to do what we want. A clock seems to create time rather than measure it. That is just a thought. We have units of measure of time but we can't find time sometimes. The stars in Orion's belt... Appear on a plane plane but are thousands of light years apart, variable studs on an untethered belt.
Jeff Gburek Jan 3, 2026

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, December 28, 2025

Sound Travels in Babadag: the album. Audible edibles. Photos of the Beauty of the Place. Writings concerning the experience.

 

 


           https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/sound-travels-in-babadag-romania

    “That Fear

YES, IT'S ONLY that fear, those searchings, tracings, tellings whose purpose is to hide the unreachable horizon. It's night again, and everything departs, disappears, shrouded in black sky. I am alone and must remember events, because the terror of the unending is upon me. The soul dissolves in space like a drop in the sea, and I am too much a coward to have faith in it, too old to accept its loss; I believe it is only through the visible that we can know relief, only in the body of the world that my body can find shelter. I would like to be buried in all those places where I've been before and will be again...

-- Andrjez Stasiuk

This summer I finally reached a milestone in my travels, arriving at  the city named in the title of Stasiuk’s book “On the Road to Babadag” – it was not as far flung as the cities of Moldavia I had wanted, attmpted to reach this year but all well and good enough. Spending time in Iași, even busking on the main drag, left me with some Gitanic flavors of the region and, Iași, after all was once part of the old state of Moldova. Still in a time amalgam outside of the modern swing.

“I never asked for a pure sound.” -- Stasiuk, again

These field recordings are perhaps as pure as I get however, without me even demanding it of myself. Recorded in the foothills and meadows & forests in view of Babadag (= Father Mountain in Turkish) between that citadel, the ancient Genoese Fortress of Enisala and a village of the same name. On tippy toes at certain hillocks you can catch glimpses of lakes Babadag and Razim on the horizon, which I took at first to be the Black Sea itself, that same Black Sea as those monopolizing Genoese merchants wanted to keep an eye of dominion scanning over from that huge stone tower they built. Nearby is also a Neolithic settlement under archeological investigation so efficiently fenced-off we could not imagine any sneak-peak access. The old world remains far away in half-life palpable mostly to professors.

This album spans my various modes, druthers, habits and of course incorporates my flaws in technique despite the fact I have cleaned up my act as much as possible. The first track is one of those attempts to be in every dimension at once: the VLF radio puts my head in the ionosphere, a ground wire catches electromagnetic earth charges as my feet traverse dry grasses and the Zoom6 XY or the Audiotecnica shotgun mic accumulate other sonic detail artifacts as I try to look into the starry or cloudy sky convincing myself I can actually “hear” pulsars via quantum entanglement with my body. I love this track in particular, no matter what.

Recorded partly in the later evening of July 23 and periodically during the day and early of July 24, the album follows time’s arrow. Therefore some of it is fairly quiet. Not even crickets. And I didn’t do a thing to make it more exciting than it is and there are surprises for which the dear listener must wait. I do, however, during the course of the last few tracks, engage my inner child via DX scanning the shortwave bands while listening to late night insect concerti, campfire, winds, owls and the Eurasian jackal yelps and those mysterious muted pooms in the distance, artillery practice from army bases over the hills. There is more Babadag material so there could be a sequel. Time will tell.
   

 




 
 
 





Tuesday, June 3, 2025

For Alice Notley (an addendum to a previous post about her sudden removal from the linear)

 

 

For Alice

   well maybe it only means
you don't have to pretend
or perform any longer
only flow with delight entropic
& you will be obvious
once and for all undeniable
self-similar to us anonymously
united in the overwhelming absence
ahead of all matter
& found in many places perfectly
unexpected both normal weirdo
fitting to all sandy particles
a strand of beach a string
of opals or yet nothing like that
faceted multi or not at all
fixed like that but unable to not emerge
also shadow of face feathers within face
glowing fox snake owl ointment
hydro carbon metallic catalyst
desperate unembraceable you un-you
of the sudden disincarnates ablossom
well discordant and wry
just portent tangentially sensitive
to all the things not there you echo
tuned into absence radio
resonant with the decibel void
as our general non-existence deepens
thickens and densifies
& merges again into will be
thrown celestium velocity
what scatters out eons
coming out pronouns
you me us inclusive
exclusive, elusive,
at home in the incomplete

Suchness & the Field of What Recording is About for Me or Back in the Garden Again

 

 
 
As Joni spread the fairy dust stardust golden canticle
and opened us to the seemingly impossible task
of getting ourselves back to the garden (not just the Rave
of Woodstock but to the X not marked on any map
--- I am reminded here of formulae from the alchemical 90's
which came to me in Sun Ra's voice one day:
the treasure map where X marks the spot is Map of Mystery
where X marks the spot of destination, el dorado, delusional ends
whereas the Mystical Map is where X marks the moment
this locus of process and reality evolving its flower
 
Eden is among us. It is found within the foundation of pure love. The keystone is within every seeker to join the formation of the temple. Eden is pure vibrational awareness, a modality of consciousness and sensation. Music is only a portal or a bridge to the feeling. Field recording is a ritual return to primordial perception while the alleged rational scientific purpose is ethnographic, ecologically rooted, leaving us with data to study and learn more about our environment. This learning is without end. The experience of the vibration also is without end and the spiritual aspect often lost in the gear is that circuit of vibrational constant sensing itself on all bandwidths. 
 
Musical instruments and recording gear are tools and as MacLuhan or Novalis seemed to say they are models and extensions of our own organs. 
 
Novalis suggested that new organs of gnosis and feeling were evolving. 
 
 All field recording is the creation of memories of places made sacred by memorialization, annotations of a transaction with the recognized infinite, temporary temples. Hildegard of Bingen had a garden too and I feel it must not have been far from Eden. It's modality was called Viriditas or the "greening power of G-d" Music, art, deity, earth, sky in no particular order or in every order in the palm trees, figs, olives, in the eyes of the wondering miraculous baby Buddha or the hooves of the ibex. Everything that is and including that which is not. As Lao Tze remarked, "the hole in the hub is what makes the wheel useful". The axle connects all the wheels.It is a thoughtful, mindful world and you are within it as discovery itself.