Mangus Haklvr's Public Human Space Debut
at the Kitchen Sink Variety Show at the Rendezvous Lounge, Oct 25, 730 pm
Dear Public,
A few things about me, Mangus Haklvr.
I grew up on a farm in Wisconsin but not in an idyllic way. The pregnant air glimmered pastoral suburbia like a serene deadly hellscape, deadly for the nearby cows-to-slaughter, deadly for the insects and rabbits and housecats and yarddogs destroyed by a long road with a high speed limit—human children sometimes too, naively believing this still a world where the young are invited to play in their streets—deadly also for the occasional lonely traveler, maybe lost in their head or reliant on chemical alterations to dull their clumsy pains—it was a dangerous road I lived on, well traveled by machines, unfriendly to biologies, and deadly was the serene air for the chickens and pigs and bees and other insects sensitive to hazardous chemicals poured over edible plants, deadly to my mind too I think in some ways with signals coming from every which way, deadly in ways I cannot fathom or fully reckon with. This is where I’m from. Not idyllic.
I came to these parts with a song hidden in my heart that I struggle to hear behind the loud beating, with my ears pointing outward. I try to quiet the thumping organ and listen. I scrape a meager living with my meager, unremarkable skills, but I’m at peace with my meagerness mostly. I sit still and listen to whispers. I hear demonic resonance. This propels me forward.
But what does it all mean? What am I talking about?
I’m self aware. I know I can come across as a bit kooky. I am a christian polytheist and while I won’t bore you with the ins and outs of a peculiar theology, I will express my awareness that this makes me an outsider in some environs. I will also say that my specific religious exploits allow me to commune with divine agents or spirits or demons or whatever you’d like to call them, which is not to say I can always make sense of what they’re trying to tell me. Nonetheless, after long bouts of confused meditation, ritual, prayer, and ceremonial podcasting (for which I’ve gained some notoriety) I have decided to follow a singular path towards an ambitious but reasonable end goal.
I would like to be a Folk Musician.
The details of my inner journey towards this realization are private and complicated, though I think as I move through my journey, the strange origins of all my compulsions will reveal themselves in full. For this reason, my journey will by documented by talented practitioner of folk cinema and glitch divination, Scully Spinoza.
I invite you all to attend my first public performance in a human space. I have performed four times before: once for the spirits only, once for the critters in my backyard, once at a secret meeting I cannot tell you about, and a second time at a secret meeting I cannot tell you about.
My first public human space performance will be at the Rendezvous Night Club in Belltown, Washington on the 25th of October, in association with the Kitchen Sink Variety Show, which will begin at 7:30 pm if the prognosticators are accurate.
Of course, all of this being in the future, it’s entirely possible that none of it will happen, that we will all be blown from this earth into another realm, a realm nearly identical but for that this event does not happen. Insofar as we stay rooted in this realm (which can be difficult), I believe this event is fairly certain? I take the future for granted, as I think many of my fellow human beings do.
We smile over the sacred blessings of our singular moments, we say every one of them is a gift, but fail to dwell on their inherent disposability, their rottenness, fail to see that our moments are—as all of time is—imaginary and therefore demonic. Is there anything more evil and beautiful than time itself, this hallucinatory decay, this entropy?
My work as a Folk Musician intends to create resonant moments that cannot be so easily discarded. This is called: haunting. I hope to enact demonic possession. My skills are meager. I may fail.
See you there.
Sincerely,
Mangus