The tale thus far:

Hunsmire Polypoppi, excommunicated from the Branson, Missouri timeshare business, flees from the Arkansas Good Ol Boy Mafia to the northern wilderness as a timeshare fugitive to compose weird neo-dada ism-isms. Upon arrival at ye olde homestead after an 11-year absence (doesn’t anyone here know me??), now nearly wasted away by the Bad Tenants (who cut down trees up on the hill and left junk all over my property), I join up as occasional saxophonist with (the) Boneyard, an authentic Blues Band with members from Right Down the Road.

Meanwhile, Sister Suzie comes up to move all of her remaining stuff from Ma’s House to her new loft in Williamsburg, down in the City. Suzie exorcises bad spirits from inside the house and convinces me to visit her during Halloween. Unaware of her devious-minded Master Plan, I agree to drive the truck with her stuff down to New York City, whereupon she immediately locks me away with Maggie, a one-eyed famous blind dog, Zulie, Sunny Ray-Ray (more dogs) and Gumbolina, the cat. Feeding me only beans and sprouts, Suzie sometimes allows me to leave in order that I may play my saxophone in the subway at Union Square and beg for money to buy pizza, unbeknownst to her. After attending the secret Vampyre Halloween Ball with Suzie and D Drennan, I escape the Big City on the Amtrak train and endure the 8-hour trek back north back to Chateaugay Lake.

Back home, I visit my my cherished friends Candy and Glenn at their cabin, hidden away somewhere in a field where you can view the St. Lawrence River. I work in my computer-music studio by night and sleep by day, occasionally playing the blues on weekends. I look for work in the depressed northern economy, which according to regional politicians, has been saved by the burgeoning State prison system, ‘which has been good for the local economy’. Hmm. After a ravenous feast whereupon I eat my fill of venison and fall into a drunken stupor, I decide to form The Chateaugay Lake Museum of Natural History, merely a vague concept of promoting virtual avante-garde. Several pieces of electronic music are converted from the digital archives and transformed for on-line amusement at the Museum during November.

Frustrated by the Furnace Situation, lack of sufficient funding and preparedness to deal with the impending onslaught of a severe northern winter, I leave my computers and music engines unprotected in my studio to seek my fame and fortune as Temp in New York City, the Big Ape, where it’s against the law to dance because Rudy the Mayor enforces the old cabaret laws. Returning to Williamsburg, I am once again locked away with the animals, subsist on a meager diet, but am allowed to work at my temp jobs, where i sneak out for pizza and bad food at lunch. I get to work in places like Warner Brothers, Calvin Klein, DC comics, and various other offices, where people work in toxic cubes. I finally wind up working for an advertising outfit, getting paid to ‘surf the web’ and do research prospecting leads. Meanwhile, I’m appointed by Sister Suzie as Executive Vice President of Pegasus Healing Systems, Inc, a massage company that provides services to corporate executives and web-development companies. My function at Pegasus is to formulate and carry out the Secret Plan.

Sometimes I sneak away at night in order to eat sushi, drink sake, go to punk-rock bars where I get into issues with seat-stealing females, and hang out in a performance space ‘that’s not a bar or a club’. One night I met my old collaborator Jack Sand at a club that’s not a performance space, where his band Arc was performing. Jack and I formulate plans to advance the Cause of Digital-Dada, and I look for good venues in which to do this...