Sources

Valentin Stip — Esquis(e)

 

St. Vincent — Digital Witness (Darkside Remix)

An Imperial Message — Franz Kafka


The Emperor, so a parable runs, has sent a message to you, the humble subject, the insignificant shadow cowering in the remotest distance before the imperial sun; the Emperor from his deathbed has sent a message to you alone. He has commanded the messenger to kneel down by the bed, and has whispered the message to him; so much store did he lay on it that he ordered the messenger to whisper it back into his ear again. Then by a nod of the head he has confirmed that it is right. Yes, before the assembled spectators of his death–all the obstructing walls have been broken down, and on the spacious and loftily mounting open staircases stand in a ring the great princes of the Empire–before all these he has delivered his message. The messenger immediately sets out on his journey; a powerful, an indefatigable man; now pushing with his right arm, now with his left, he cleaves a way for himself through the throng; if he encounters resistance he points to his breast, where the symbol of the sun glitters; the way is made easier for him than it would be for any other man. But the multitudes are so vast; their numbers have no end. If he could reach the open fields how fast he would fly, and soon doubtless you would hear the welcoming hammering of his fists on your door. But instead how vainly does he wear out his strength; still he is only making his way through the chambers of the innermost palace; never will he get to the end of them; and if he succeeded in that nothing would be gained; he must next fight his way down the stair; and if he succeeded in that nothing would be gained; the courts would still have to be crossed; and after the courts the second outer palace; and once more stairs and courts; and once more another palace; and so on for thousands of years; and if at last he should burst through the outermost gate–but never, never can that happen–the imperial capital would lie before him, the center of the world, crammed to bursting with its own sediment. Nobody could fight his way through here even with a message from a dead man. But you sit at your window when evening falls and dream it to yourself.

 

Mercury Heart – Nils Petter Molvaer

 

Perfume Genius – Mr. Peterson

 

Michael Marcus

The City University of New York
City College
Mathematics Department NAC 6-291C
New York, NY 10031
mbmarcus@optonline.net

 

 

Professor, Mathematics Department

B.S., Electrical Engineering, Princeton University, 1957

MS., Mathematics, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1958

Ph.D., Mathematics, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1965

Research interests: Probability, Analysis

Probability Seminar Web Site

Markov processes, Gaussian processes and local time, published Oct. 2006

The Flame Alphabet Book Trailer

Owe Me – No Regular Play (Nicolas Jaar mix)

Lucien Dubuis Trio & Marc Ribot – Bal les Masques!

From the album, Ultime Cosmos.

Hot Chip – Keep Falling

From the album, Coming on Strong.

stencilcutter