It’s hard to believe that we have already made it to the 9th secret of Counter Esperanto, and because 9 is a magic number we talk a lot about magic this time. The magic of 25 years ago and the anticipated magic of next week. The power of poetry, the nitty-gritty of pulling down the moon for fun and profit, and an intense speculation into the real secret history of Annie Blackburn, a character having a most amazing and intricate background… or lacking one entirely. It’s not that we are vacillating, it’s just that, “Depending on how one looks on the situation, it appears they both have merit.”
Because of that, we’ve gone back to the textual ur-text of Counter Esperanto, Mark Frost’s The Secret History of Twin Peaks, in order to investigate why Annie does not appear in it, and what that (and other things) may reveal. From there we have put out our feelers in order to really get the lay of the land as it sits, take the current temperature of Twin Peaks, and nail down some things that we think about David Lynch’s Enigmatic tales that bridge the gap between the small screen, the big screen and the mental screen.
To wit, this episode contains:
(1) Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan: Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.” read by Karl Eckler the elder. (2) Jubel’s introduction (3) A snapshot of Twin Peaks 25 years later, and 7 days from the return. (4) “What’s Annie?” A wandering primer of esoterica, modern alchemy and Nth dimensional physics by K, all used to advance a theory both wild and unexpected. Submitted as a reply, with all due reverence and reciprocity, to the recent work of Lindsay Stamhuis.
The Music of Erich Zann is a haunting reminiscence of a place found outside the normal rules of society, order and physics.
Something exists behind the high wall that only Erich Zann can see over.
Does he long to see?
Or is he afraid of the cold fire from beyond that longs to walk with him?
Like the town of Twin Peaks the Rue d’Auseil cannot be found on any map, and those who seek for it fail, unless they walk with their inner sight. We Invite you then to close your eyes in a tightly curtained room, and shudder along with us a we walk up that steep hillside street where the houses bend together like supplicants in prayer, they and we are anxiously awaiting the concert to begin.
For artists, their outlook of the world can be expressed in the form of discrete symbol systems, and in this way artists are likely to refer to their art as their children. For this is true in a partially incestuous way. Our start positions in life are given to us primarily by our experiential parents: Those brave humans who choose to raise us. We take on that gift (or baggage) and transform it over the course of our lives, our lived encounters with the human and natural world. This forms individual outlooks on the world, for none of us see all of it, or even an identical portion of it.
An artist cannot help but incorporate this subjective model of the unknown objective world into their object ‘d art, or can they? In this episode, we discuss the work and lives of a number of authors working in the genre of “The Weird.” From H.P. Lovecraft to David Lynch. Yes, it’s Arkham to Twin Peaks, by way of Cross Plains, Texas and Detroit, Michigan.
The Horla is all about a creature from “outside” that causes a previously good and sane person to doubt their sanity, indulge in actions of questionable moral turpitude and ultimately make a terrible choice with unknown consequences. Sound familiar?
She is the reason that we are first introduced to the town of Twin Peaks, but died before that lonely foghorn first blew. Homecoming Queen and sex worker, murder victim and drug dealer, charity volunteer and thief, Laura is a character that exists beyond the pale boundaries of “good” and “bad” that television–especially the soap operas that Twin Peaks was inspired by–tends to sort its characters into.
Using her Secret Diary as a guide we peel back a few of the layers, look under one or two fingernails, and ultimately become blinded by the brilliance of Laura’s mind and soul. Taken from us too soon, we hope to see you again… the 25 years is almost up after all.