Author: Mat Tarbox

  • Intertwined — by Delta of Venus

  • 10th Anniversary of PortFire!

    10th Anniversary of PortFire!

    Ten years ago, back in July 2011, we transitioned from a website called Mystic Music Archive to PortFire here. The Mystic Music Archive was a repository we created for some local Mystic and New London, Connecticut music from the 80s, 90s, and new releases.

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is mysticmusicarchivelogo.png

    To progress beyond just music – to expand to all the diverse artists inspiring us – we moved all of the albums and songs over to a new site – named PortFire after “the fuze or torch that lights rockets and fireworks” (yeah, a bit ambitious!) – and aimed to also begin including photography, writing, visual arts (especially collage), and new music from beyond just southeastern Connecticut.

    We organized and worked to expand PortFire as a free zone for artists to post their recent work, following the DIY ethos of Hozomeen Press and other zines like Root of Twinkle from the 80s and 90s; but our campaign to expand eventually fell flat and only a few dedicated artists, especially Michelle Gemma, and Ellery Twining, published prodigiously to our free platform.

    As an architect and editor of PortFire, I certainly wasn’t aggressive nor charismatic enough to smartly ‘market’ PortFire: no ads, no fees, not interested in profits, no baiting for page views, no social media strategies, no gimmicks – just not interested in any of that – which is perhaps to our detriment in many ways – arts and artists benefit from publicity. So please let us know if you have any ideas for us publicizing ourselves in a better way.

    We exist for fellow artists to publish and speak and react to each other’s work, so we inspire each other and push each other’s art forward.

    We will definitely keep running this site for the artists producing new work and publishing here (I still hope to rejoin those ranks!), as well as to host older music and zines for those who are curious, nostalgic, or want to hear the beautiful 17 Relics, Seratonin, or LowBeam (and more!) – over ten fabulous independent bands can be found under the Music tab at the top of our site.

    So, it really is hard to believe it has been ten years – while reminiscing and looking through the site this past week, I was surprised to rediscover the amount of inspiring content here – check out the right side of our main page, the Artist Collections, Tags, Search Bar, Archives in the lower right, and just feel free to explore – and thank you all so much for contributing and checking in over all these years –

    If you’d like to publish your work here, please let us know at editors@portfire.org

    Here is the first post that PortFire ever put up, to test the new site, about ten years ago – enjoy!

  • ROOT!!!!!

  • Skullcrusher

    Found an old file with all the lyrics I wrote with the band Seratonin.
    Not for the first time, I was volunteered for good reason out of the band, and they blossomed into Low Beam —

    Seratonin Band HistoryLow Beam Band History

    I treasure the lyrics and songs from that early 2000 era.
    First up is the most poptastic track on the LP:


    Skullcrusher

    She turns hypnotic trancelike
    He wants the sonic dreamlife
    She hits that disco jukebox
    She turns him round so latenight

    Chorus:
    yeah, it’s a fine time
    yes, it’s the finest on top
    yeah, it’s a fine time
    so why did you mess It all up?

    She gets so cardinal baby
    He gets that blast so crazy
    She gets all sonik trancelike
    She turns him right round round round

    Chorus

    He wakes up cold and lonesome
    She isn’t there to hold him
    He scrapes them bits of nothing
    He prays and hopes for something

    Chorus plus

    You’re my skullcrusher

    crush it up….

  • menu item

    harder to hear
    or distracted more
    by the background and frequencies
    i never paid much attention

    and i lost my distance
    vision in grade four –
    it was the perfect yet unaccepted
    excuse to the chalkboard of the annoyed mrs. hoyt
    for my serial inattention

    now it is close –
    holding the text askance
    arms length, puzzled
    embarrassing my teen as the room looks over –
    my cellphone flashlight is robust

    so i will just ask
    what do i usually get
    and get that –
    because ease and comfort
    are becoming
    my new amuse bouche

  • little spacey

    Night in Saint-Cloud by Edvard Munch

    i am the exile, the dreamer,
    i am the ghost who blesses the slumber of your sleep.
    i am the autumnal draft which crosses your pillow in the night.

    little spacey, i am the skeleton who sleeps in your closet,
    i am the turner of the doorknob in the dark.
    i drift beneath the celestial sphere, and i find you.

    we meet there, behind the black of bleakest soul,
    when eden whispers her sweet mysteries
    and the moon droops beneath the stars –
    we meet behind this balcony to heaven,

    deep down inside this dream,
    deep down inside your sigh
    our spirits dance,
    and we are dazzled to love

     

    (composed in 1993)

  • PAC-MAN: How We Played The Game

    Pacman edit pink

    A repost from Retro Bitch

    https://retrobitch.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/pac-man-the-untold-story-of-how-we-really-played-the-game/

    The impressions of human desire are often left upon objects of their devotion or on the paths leading to where a sense of peace or pleasure can be found; i.e. the worn frets on a favorite guitar; the finger-smoothed ivory keys on an old piano; the “secret path” in the forest blazed by decades of children that’s been “a secret path” to other children for over 100 years.

    By Cat DeSpira

  • A Jog Thru Haley

    haley farm, october 2018
    haley farm, october 2018

  • cockroach

    one more time, his eyes all burned and
    tweaked and cold and snuffed
    he gripped the edges of the chair.

    she had shifted across him again,
    held the glass and smiled. his legs were
    cumbersome. he was really nothing at all.

    the ice in the drink was the only sound in the room.

    ‘look, up over there, there’s something moving…”

    he looked up too and clutched her thigh, strained
    to see above. she laughed and took out a
    cigarette. he felt heavy and couldn’t see anything, just ceiling.

    he looked down at the old carpet, and she handed him the glass.
    she thought of stairways and automobile.
    she thought of the cool night outside.

    and the cockroach up on the wall behind him slid into a crevice.