approximate knowledge

For Daniel Alamsjah, a devout Christian living in Java, Indonesia, his call came one night in 1988 in the form of a divine vision. Before him, Alamsjah saw a building shaped like a giant dove, residing on a hilltop. It would be, a disembodied voice affirmed, a place of worship for all faiths. And Alamsjah was just the man to build it.

In 1991, God had shown me Solomon’s Temple in my dreams. I never thought of Solomon’s temple before, nor had any dreams of constructing it. As soon as I woke up, I wrote down the details as I saw it in my dream.

The food that's never let me down in life is porridge, especially with milk and maple syrup, which is delicious. Paris isn't a porridge place but I can buy it in London when I'm there and bring it back with me.

LEFTOVERS. They are real fun. Take any boiled meat you have. Slice it. Fry onions with tomatoes, mushrooms if you have them, also sliced boiled potatoes, green peppers, plus any bits of cooked vegetables you might have; then add the meat, mix till all is hot, sprinkle with chopped parsley—and you will wish you had leftovers more often.

Have I forgotten anything? I’ve always thought that the proper way to end one’s life story is with a bit of practical advice. Something that sums up one’s long and hard-won experience. How to pack a suitcase, how to butter a biscuit without breaking it. I loved Marlene Dietrich’s autobiography, which really has nothing in it except how to sew lavender bags, lay a drawer and brush a dog. Let’s see. . . . How about my chicken with lemon and garlic? Okay, here goes: chicken, butter, garlic, fresh tarragon—has to be fresh—snipped with a scissors. Salt and pepper the chicken liberally inside and out. Put half a lemon inside the chicken along with a nob of butter and the fresh tarragon. On the outside you put the garlic, juice of a lemon and butter. Baste continually. And the thing about mashed potatoes is not to forget that pinch of nutmeg.

But the name that had been neatly typed on the birth certificate in San Francisco sixteen years ago, the name Jason and everyone at Mars Hill knew her by, was Shadowmoon Starlight Rising. Maggie would have shaved her head before she’d admit her real name to anyone at school. At Mars Hill it wasn’t so weird: there was Adele Grose, known professionally as Madame Olaf; Shasta Daisy O’Hare and Rvis Capricorn; Martin Dionysos, who was Jason’s father; and Ariel Rising, née Amanda Mae Rheining, who was Moony’s mother.

Admittedly, The Melvins always remain close at hand throughout this record, except for the dodgy anti-war honesty of ‘Old Glory’, which contains lyrics so gauche, so unutterably arch and cringeworthy that I gots to love it. On ‘Old Glory’, Creston sounds about as genuine as Gary Numan on that album sleeve where he’s shocked by the little pyramid. Moreover, from the manner in which he orchestrates this song, it’s clear that Creston Spires himself is obviously aware of its embarrassingly twee side. Still, I’m the last person who can ever complain about such things, and the song’s tail-out is a magnificent racket to encounter.