Players: AM, JF, ADK, SC, HC

Directions: One player speaks in gibberish. The others translate these utterings into asemic-style writing. When finished, pass and attempt to translate the writing back into english.

Players: HC, SC, T, JF, AM, S

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Babel Game

Directions: One person gives a monologue in gibberish. The others interpret the story visually or with words.

Players: HC, SC, T, Z, JF, AM

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Collective Drawings

Directions: Each participant chooses one material characteristic they associate with an abstract concept. Combine them all into one list, and draw it.

Players: HC, SC, S, Z, L, JF, I

CONCEPT CHOSEN: ANARCHISM

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Players: HC, SC, S, Z, L, JF, I

Exquisite Corpse Haikus

Burrowing Creature
Bathed in a fountain of light
I am among these

Where did the cat go?
I love the stars before me
An emissary

Under the elm tree
Love has a shadowy door
Hope for womankind

hard to say out loud
I have no macaroni
It’s in the alley

Butter pancake bet
Law books say it’s all for naught…
Sequence sewn, denied

Dream the centipede
The river is not too bold
A refreshing taste

Butterfly garden
The flower digs deeper, up
Afterburner rats

Cicada farts up
Doubting tomas rorschach test
Sarsaparilla please

I am infinite
An entity that looks for
A lifting of the day

Where the sky shelters
Softly whispered in the night
A smile when you’re sad

At my sister’s wake
A beautiful way to speak
Turn back the clock now

Nobody, really
Please god ask me again, friend
Ok fine…who’s there?

Ham sandwich rocks hard
A mind made up of steel wool
A terrible roar

Down with orchestra
Will there be moonlight shining?
Pinprick in the whale

QUESTION AND ANSWER FOLDING GAME

Where do cows go for repose at the end of summer?
Give it to the farmers.

What is an armadillo?
Because it’s all just illusion anyway.

Why do you find it so tiresome.. the continued effort?
I have too much purple in my wardrobe.

Who put the sticky note in the mailbox?
The swamp where cicadas sing.

Why do you dream?
The white fluff of the sheep holds the key.

Directions: Draw an assembly line across a sheet of paper. Draw the first part of a process, and then fold your section over so that the next person cannot see what you have done. The next person draws the second sequence in the process, and so on until completed. At the end, unfold and decide what object is being created.

Players: SC, HC, AM, JF

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Directions: As a group, draw automatically on children’s coloring book pages, passing periodically.

Players: AM, HC, SC, JF, ADK

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Players: AM, TO, HC, SC, JF

Players: AM, BO, TO, HC, SC, 

CONNECT THE DOTS

Directions: Make random dots on a page. Pass around a circle. Each person connects some of the dots, or intuitively expands on them, creating a collaborative drawing.

Players: AM, BO, TC, HC, SC, L, JF

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EXQUISITE CORPSE COMIC PANELS

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Directions: non-writing players announce words out loud at random, and the writers must then incorporate these words into their automatic text.

Players: AM, BO, TC, HC, SC

VERSION 1 (BO)

The door mouse slipped through the crack in the basement, scurrying past pelvic bones with spindly legs. The sham was up the calf turned roach, Kafka’s Babylon brought dawn to the babbling brook. Eyelids blink back dawn dish soap orange urine impeding rays of light. Egg layers x ray 142 egg rollers two toned fur ball rhetoric taints cityscape-loving birdman. Hawk feathers erupt intestinal trumpets “love live laugh” the catacomb reads. Horse, radish, helmet meteoroid (telephone rings) this is it faucet dripping tadpoles exceptionally aluminum. United States, foreign luminaries on a post card my dirty socks beautiful in the plaid alignment carpeted floor open door laundry room deep space deep space deep space deep space deep space deep space deep space deep space deep space. My 10 sided form apologizing profusely from chimney alchemy, soot dust dirt, the swift upstroke an orangutan toenail on a faceless sea, the sailboat improved. Library perversity can’t help but consume mushrooms the chicken of the woods growing from the back of prometheus. The sphincter of the sphinx dimming the light as a lampshade.

VERSION 2 (AM)

A door mouse? A debasement of basements? What is this occult pelvic bone of thought! Let me tell you, detail to you, this enigma, this sheer elephant’s trunk! I was locked in a locked trunk, and with me, a spindly shaman. He used a copy of Kafka to open the trunk, revealing a babbling brook of dawn dish soap. 

“Good lord” said I. “Is this an orange black hole?”

“Nay” said the shaman. “Tis my urine.”

“Great egg layer!” I exclaimed. “142 ounces of disgust fill my soul, you infernal fur ball.”

He waved me away. “Enough of the rhetoric. Ticks are after you, birdman.”

I announced with my intestinal trumpet that I had to get out of this cat’s paw of flowing yellow catacombs. The shaman, at a loss, drank horseradish.

Oh, rhetoric of the parenthetic telephone—am I truly alone in this waterfall of a dead man’s tiny tadpole and egg sack? I wanted to go back in the box, where there was no illumination, where I could not see my soiled sheets. But I was out in the world, soaked by shamanic schnitzel, flying through deep space, the only other person now a horseradish shuttle of alchemy without apology. Oh, chimney of my swift orangutan, my toenails are peeking through, faceless, like a porcupine perversity. I cannot go on! But my face is a library of mushrooms, ye chicken of the woods. Prometheus am I, a sphinx of tail-to-snout eating. My sphincter permanently open. Woe…

VERSION 3 (TC)

I am a door mouse in de basement. I am also into the occult. When I was projecting into the astral plane, I saw a locked trunk spinning over the head of sam the shaman. I opened the chest at dawn and out poured a black hole into my eyelid. I was transformed to the orange planet. 142 chickens came out of the caves chased by fur ball cats. I ran as fast as I could when I heard the sound of trumpets. I’m just an intern at this cat spa. The horseman caught up to me just as I would have been destroyed by a meteoroid. I thanked the horseman by giving him my prize aluminum postcard. In return he gave me thumbscrews. They aligned when they met, opening deep space before us. We looked upon the cosmic dodecahedron. It apologized for the universe’s lack of alchemy. We burned our sacrifices in a chimney, and the ashes assembled into a faceless porcupine. It told us out purpose, so we rushed to the library. We read the forbidden knowledge. The librarian shushed us persistently.

Players: RC, HC, JF, SC

Directions: Add the first line of a poem and begin a drawing to accompany it. Pass it over to the next person, who adds a second phrase to yours, and then also add more details to your drawing. Continue until finished.

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Second Game: Add a line of text, pass. The next person does a drawing in response to the text, then folds so only the most recent contribution is visible. The next person writes a line of text in response to the drawing, and so on.

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Players: ADK, SC, HC

Directions: Take a ziplock bag. Pass around the circle. Each player puts in one line of a poem, either written automatically or cut out of a magazine. Once finished, pull out the lines and assemble however you like. As an alternate last step, close up the ziplock bag, and then mail it out to a complete stranger chosen by chance via google maps so that they too can assemble it at their leisure.

Players: HC, SC, RC, JF

Players: RC, HC, SC, AM

We decide to collectively make an imaginary map of Atlantis. Three, in fact. Afterwards, unable to choose our favorite and deciding to maximize chaos, we walk out the door to stroll or perhaps I should say swim through the streets of Atlanta using all three of these new Atlantean maps, simultaneously. Overlaying our everyday reality with the new one we’d created, we searched for points of connection…

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MAP 2

MAP 3

THE DISCOVERIES

INVISIBLE SKY PALACE

LIBRARY OF LIES

A PARTICULARLY OMINOUS DOG

THE CRUX OF THE ANSWER

BIP

ZEUS GONADS

MIRROR OF ZEUS

HOUSE OF MOON

PYRAMID BUFFET

RECTANGLE OF NO-THOUGHT

GREAT CAT

MY LOST SKIN

INVERTED PYRAMID OF ZAA

BED OF THE SUN

FIELD OF HIDING

…AND THE NAMES OF THOSE WHO HIDE

EDGE OF DREAMS

VANISHING INSECURITIES

COLUMN OF PALAMBYULA

At one point, AM asked the great cosmic fish where the ghosts of planets go after they pass away. A few steps later, he received this response…

Players: AM, SC, HC, JF, T

A new collection of collective games, dreams, and other effluvia from the Atlanta Surrealist Group.

PRINT COPY

FREE DIGITAL FILE

“Spell Song is the first album by multimedia artist Hazel Cline, collected from years of recording experiments and ritual practice. Hazel’s sound world is a delicately textured one that feels familiar and elemental. She weaves a sonic text that blends quiet voiced mantras in an unknown tongue, birdsong, bottles, bells, wind and breath. Merging field recording, sacred music and experimentation, it’s a beautiful work that is hypnotic yet grounding. A true sonic tincture for current times.“

Disc, cassette, or digital album available here.

Part 1 of interview can be read here.

Directions: Choose an object in the room. Play comic strip exquisite corpse rounds, with one condition – that the strips will be episodes in this object’s life.

Players: AM, SC, HC, JF

Object: Bird