Then came his hero-simians (Nietzsche's Demi-Apes)…
You have heard of Underworld, and Otherworld and demigods, but have you heard of Half-world?, "Demi-monde", and its habitants - the pleasing courtesans, the Demis, whom "every body knows to be what no body calls her" [Fielding], the Demi-urge as in the aborted and Half-way arrested development of coming into Being.
Worse than still-births, are half-births. "The half and half spoil every whole."
In the Half-world of half-truths, spaces of limbo, half agape, half agape, de-militarized zones, the goo-lag of Sigh-beria, half wacked, half whacked non-plus con-founders proclaim the triumph of Blah.
The metagrobalization of the world stretching between Ronald and Donald, and period. The demidumb of heaven on earth, I have the lysure to also say, the wi-zzzz-dumb of heaven on earth, O what a mess- ai ai aah… !
The harlot of Blahbalon rides distant on distent tongues…, swollen words, stolen worths
Half-balls and bray-cells, no hint of either Hercules, or the grey cells of the True Detective Poirot Hercules…, Swingers skipping from Paris to NY to Hamster-damn! of which the older English name was the German rat… A fuzzy thing of fuzzy logic; PUAs use hamster to describe those who side-step and half-step responsibility. They call them cunts for that reason. "A species of rodent soon to inherit the earth after our Demi-se…" Also a euphemism for the hedonistic dis/ease of half left-over beers, skipping, skipping…
And what mean I by "Expel the Hamster"?!
The jet-set jet-lagged are the real heaviness of the Chronic Chronos. The Saturnine hamster, the gulag-tyrant, imprisons and devours its young to survive, like the cat. The rat and the cat… a carnal carnival,
These are the Jet-Set generation [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Le-mon banging to A Tout le Mon de,
THIS is 'The End'.
À tout mes amis [To all my friends] Je vous aime Je dois partir These are the last words I'll ever speak And they'll set me free
"Words will set me free." Clit-oral thinking is fishy.
Bah, ye pearl-fishers
À tout mes amis [To all my friends] My body's gone that's all Please smile when you think of me
Half-assed smile… Of Drug-Barrens and (p)fff…Kingpin(t)s, Con-Noise-eurs of semenal licker
064 is the number of the hemidemisemi quavering of the quivering queers
Zorastrian Shat-RAP and diademed over-Half-lords of the demos s.
But Enough! Let them raise their demit-asses. Lictors shall pay no heed to half-wits giving grand licktures, even if they be in our city-halls... ExSpell the Hamster! Word to World.
We shall blessing terminate their cross-gressions of another man's meat with the ah…men.. of "Who gives a Damn?".
Its time WE SANEtors seize our earth, Invoke Deus and set upon a new plague of pure Anti-Demitism. (and you may take it as signed, Pythia in fumes, with all the powers nested in her, 25th August, 2016… I'm at Least a fortnight ahead…)
I shall have these demites shot!!
With a wink.
; )
.
and pulling down the trigger
;
and
)
laugh. haarr harr
So, yes, in the beginning was the gay science. The weal to power.
I kid, therefore I am. A self-rolling weal.
I kid.
Certain words like that could be trusted and can still be trusted, to divide the world widely into two. Those who thought it meant gay, and those who thought it meant gay.
It separates idiots from the real.
The gayness is in this, that even after death, A N. knew, he would continue to be Selective. Thats what we mean by 'Genius' - that it is so alive even after death, its presence reigns, if not rules, not by the memory of others, but by its own sheer force of separating the useless from the gold, whether one notices or not, by the one who notices.
From beyond the grave, one is STILL Laughing…
STILL separating idiots and the pussyfooters
Reality evaders.
Reality treators posing as reality creators. These reality traitors!!
From beyond the grave, one is STILL Fighting… Like a revenant.
Death has no power over the hero who continues to self-assert, to do his job even from the Netherworld, another world… Still fighting from beyond the grave on the side of Life...
These Star- wars to the end!! with Gai Sabre, song daggers
Poetic (k)Nights shall rai(g)n upon Rome vs. Judea! No, better, Blonde VS. Demimonde!
Lysistrata, the "Army-Disbander" was a Spartan who went on a sex-strike to end the civil war between Sparta and Athens.
This Lys' Strata gem, no less of a Spartanism, is likewise to END THE CIVIL war, of politeness, of postures, of reality-prositution, and all that penury that de-pleat the spirit with its effe-menace-y. Except with a hex strike.
My gay sabre is sharp and sweet, "Become clean, my friends".
Off to whet what ye covet!!, ye half-ones, ye pure fouls of knowledge…
"Demi-monde refers to a group of people who live hedonistic lifestyles, usually in a flagrant and conspicuous manner. The term was commonly used in Europe from the late 19th to the early 20th century, and contemporary use has an anachronistic character. Its connotations of pleasure-seeking often contrasted with wealth and ruling class behavior.
The term 'demi-monde' is French for "half-world". The term was often used as one of disapprobation, the behavior of a person in the demimonde being contrary to more traditional or bourgeois values. Such behaviors often included drinking or drug use, gambling, high spending (particularly in pursuit of fashion, as through clothing as well as servants and houses), and sexual promiscuity. The term demimondaine referred to a woman who embodied these qualities; later it became a euphemism for a courtesan or prostitute.
The original members of this elite, free-wheeling set were those "socialites" who were not shy about publicity and entertained in semi-public places like restaurants and in night clubs, where the "paparazzi" – a jet set phenomenon – photographed them. They were the first generation that might weekend in Paris or fly to Rome just for a party.
Set-jetting is the trend of traveling to destinations that are first seen in movies. It is also referred to as a "Location Vacation". For instance, touring London in a high-speed boat like James Bond, or visiting the stately homes that are seen in the Jane Austen films are good examples."
The Half-world is the place of the Hedonists, who have only changed the focus on clothes, to focus on personnas and 'archetypal' masks, new skins,, and the emulation of the life-style of a James Bond to a Nietzsche, to a Blake, and to all who made the headlines.
These Trance-humanists who exhort the full development of every aspect of the Human are in effect consciousness-amplifiers, circumventing the need to pass through Tragic portals.
They are the modern day Trans-porters.
Primordial shamans used to act as bridges between worlds, respecting the sovereignity of the realms. But these are Drug-Trafficers of the ILL-legal kind.
Dis/eased minds abolishing sovereignity in the aprior proclamation of pan-sentience. Demites are de-selectors as all soothing religions are.
There was once the self-ish generation, then was the sell-fish generation, then the selfish generation, and now, the selfie generation. They push their selfies of their cafe-interactions, their experience, their 'diversity', the attainment of 'beatific visions' as proof the universe is Already divine, Already valuable. They make way for the sell-free generation to come… No criterion, no costs; all is game for the trans-Sporters.
Drug-trafficers sneaking ILL-legal elicksires, v-pills and We-pills of false fraternity, false humanism; Adverts and al(l)-chemical Ad-mixtures, Antidotes of a false doting… Falls this affection, false this Affectance...
The psychedelic transport is the boar-dom of the Unconscious excess; one pays Dearly for its seismic visions.
The sigh-ca-relic is the boredom of the subconscious excess. Inflation built over generations holding the world to its glass-stained visions of ether-ealism begets a shattered mind stopped in the past, a Relic frozen relishing the past,, and slipping dangerously into boredom,… and reliving itself in angles and angels… One is Paid for such a cosmic vision. Dia-Gnosticians call this credit, Grace - which we Dis-Credit… we, the Gangetic onrush, the pure fury of life, In-form-ing all things, We trans-Portents.
Vicars offering vicarious trips and speaking on be-HALF of the universe; pan sentience is merely their damn sentiment.
The short-circuiters of initiation teach, "Be half, my half-brothers"… Jesus - the first half one, who suffered on Be Half of all, inspiring Xts. who suffer on be-half of God
Lattices vain, and Laetitia wanes, in the vicar's Value-Engineering.
This, verily, is the half-light of the idles.
Geomancies become geofancies. Adam and Atom decree mar-shall law in the face of Rutherford's half-life; What mean-times!
Demitic dandyism and hermetic gandhi-ism, jack-screws and olive-shoots tie oh-no-reary conventions of fraternal peace in air-tight seals… Still, no hard-feelings… Six of one, half a dozen of the other, Aren't we all isotopes here! in the absence of standards and Kanons, The [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] of mercy, of the Heart-Sutra, Half-closed eyes, and diamond compassion, Lotus technology is Acht-ung! luv… A...ight that Right!
The half-tides are here and Bardo approaches, So too bard-olatory,
Tall-tales are really 6-feet under,
counting bodhi sheep is no quantum leap it is the lethergic sleep of the heavy six deep
"Expel the Hamster" in urban slang is to defecate.
In psychology, it points to the anal-retentive, and the bas-Turdizing of the world. The retenters clasp tightly to past relics, and their constip(ul)ation after years, become their clause, their claws too. Their reason to exist.
A 'blue', print.
'Depression' to drugs.
Detention centres are half-world goo-lags, where society's refusal-dumps are retained. Philosophy counSels are the new de-tension centres, pressure relievers,, sewage councils overrun with brown vermin.
When Freud had related anal-retention with money-expenditure, but also the birth of the child as goo, its only plain to me now, he was describing the half-worlders.
Demites mistake freeing their hamsters for spiritual pregnancies, giving birth to themselves, their creations… The strength to finally not clasp, not cling, and discharge away and feel that relief, that independence, feels like "Hail, Storm!"
"Founding the Religion of the Future with a Hamster", not Hammer, sounds most appropriate…
And thus was released the Tarantula's 'Inglorious basturds' and the b.a.s-turdization of the world
big.ass.smile
I eject, therefore I am.
This is not masturbation, ejaculation, but a Supplanting, usurping. The Userpent in the garden displaces and replaces, which is what feces<>money does. ""jack-in-a-box", 1560s, a name for a sharp or cheat, "who deceived tradesmen by substituting empty boxes for others full of money" Expelling the hamster and getting Stoned, getting High, is High-Jacking one stone for the other.
Supplanting: "to trip Up…"
The Demimongers make such frequent trips, living the High life… The Rome-Anti… cism of these ('bi'- )peddlers and h(c)ucksters, toilettries and commode-ity merchants not withstanding, Nietzsche wrote against the "semis", the half-ones c(g)lamouring for recognition and "respect", and their value In toxications:
Nietzsche wrote:
"Christianity as a denaturalization of herd-animal morality: accompanied by absolute misunderstanding and self-deception. Democratization is a more natural form of it, one less mendacious.
Datum: the oppressed, the lowly, the great masses of slaves and semi-slaves desire power.
First step: they make themselves free-they ransom themselves, in imagination at first, they recognize one another, they prevail.
Second step: they enter into battle, they demand recognition, equal rights, "justice."
Third step: they demand privileges (-they draw the representatives of power over to their side).
Fourth step: they demand exclusive power, and they get it-
In Christianity, three elements must be distinguished:
(a) the oppressed of all kinds, (b) the mediocre of all kinds, (c) the discontented and sick of all kinds.
With the first element Christianity fights against the political nobility and its ideal; with the second clement, against the exceptional and privileged (spiritually, physically - ) of all kinds; with the third element, against the natural instinct of the healthy and happy.
Democracy is Christianity made natural: a kind of "return to nature" after, on account of its extreme anti-naturalness, it could be overcome by the opposite values . - Consequence: the aristocratic ideal henceforth loses its naturalness ("the higher man," "noble," "artist," "passion," "knowledge," etc.; romanticism as cult of the exception, the genius, etc.)." [WTP, 215]
Aristo-Christ-ing the demos is a Value-in-Toxication.
"The modern nihilist is so caught up in materialism and hedonism that though he pretends to be neither a materialist or a hedonist - some of the time - they still evaluate an opinion using the success models of their market economy, and by how pleasing the outcome promises to be.
Respect, for him means not being exposed to the stupidity of one's own views.
That would be great if only this mock respect did not eventually build to a false sense of indestructibility.
Respect, like love, something they deserve - they demand by being alive or human, because there is no content in the word. It is a prayer they all repeat, connecting them to the abstraction they all share: the non-existent Absolute."
Ionic melissa, Attic melitta "honeybee," also "one of the priestesses of Delphi," from PIE *melit-ya, suffixed form of *melit- "honey" (source also of Greek meli, Latin mel "honey; sweetness;" Albanian mjal' "honey;" Old Irish mil "honey," Irish milis "sweet;" Old English mildeaw "nectar," milisc "honeyed, sweet;" Old High German milsken "to sweeten;" Gothic miliþ "honey").
Nek+tar-, To cross-over/overcome [tar-] death[nek-] sweet liquid in flowers…
"Both the Atharva Veda and the ancient Greeks associated lips anointed with honey with the gift of eloquence: Achilles and Pythagoras, it was said, had been fed on honey as infants, and the lips of Plato, Pindar, and Ambrose of Milan were anointed with it..."
kiss of life, full of precious Care-a-Mel,
"Melissa was a nymph who discovered and taught the use of honey and from whom bees were believed to have received their name. She was one of the nymph nurses of Zeus…
Souls were symbolized by bees and it was Melissa who drew souls down to be born. She was connected with the idea of a periodic regeneration.
Within a fragment of the Orphic poetry, quoted by Natalis Comes, Melitta is spoken of as a hive, and called Seira, or the hive of Venus:
Let us celebrate the hive of Venus, who rose from the sea: that hive of many names: the mighty fountain, from whence all kings are descended; from whence all the winged and immortal Loves were again produced.
From the works of Hesychius, it is clear that the word Seira among other interpretations signified Melitta, a bee; also a hive, or house of Melitta, "such is the sense of it in this passage: and [she] was thus represented in ancient mythology, as being the receptacle, from whence issued that swarm, by which the world was peopled". With that said, Seira was none other than the goddess Demeter, the supposed mother of mankind; who was also styled as Melitta and Melissa, and was looked upon as the Venus of the East. "
Someone who leaves your heart paralyzed. Your heart will drive you insane anytime you look into her eyes.
Daughter of the Mountain, Parvati, enchantress of Dionysos, with eyes abuzz, and every blink is a world taking birth, The Perplexer,
"Sunayana-Vi-Bhramara Bhramara-Bhramara Bhramara-Bhramara-[A]dhipate "Whose Beautiful Eyes Conquer the Beauty of the Bees by Their Own Beauty…"
HypNaughtic B….…Be…….Bee…
1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13...
Brown Brown B/
sticky brown memory molasses,
Brown Brown E/(arth),
"so many stick to me, but who will stick with me…" is the mel-Ode-y to life...
"The Homeric Hymn to Apollo acknowledges that Apollo's gift of prophecy first came to him from three bee maidens, usually but doubtfully identified with the Thriae, a trinity of pre-Hellenic Aegean bee goddesses. Melaina was loved by Apollo, bearing him Delphos. Her name meant "The Black", suggesting she presides over subterranean nymphs."
Melaina,
That which goes right to the centre, delphi, the black of the flower, the ring of the pupil, the heart of the matter,
The dragon to the outsider represents chaos, the obstacle that blocks life-sustaining circulation.
To the insider, the dragon is the defender that hoards and gathers and stores, and restores - a great storage, a great restoration of being, the secret garden of sacred borders, that which guards from the profane.
Thus, the real demiurge, cannot but be an ambivalent hero; he who slays the dragon to release the sun and the waters of life, becomes the dragon as the released waters slowly turns into a reservoir in turn. The hero is also the criminal.
Dumezil dedicates a book to a common theme of a particular heroism that runs among all I.E. heroes satisfying the three functions.
In the Indic case, Narasimha - 'half' man- 'half' lion, Indra - 'half' man - 'half' titan,
The real 'demi-urges' like Indra and Narasimha overcome the half and half condition as they strike their dragon-enemies protected under clauses such as 'neither day nor night', and therefore [twilight], foam [neither sea nor land], finger-nail [neither weapon nor flesh] and so forth…
They are rejoiners of circuits, maintaining the original hybridity at the heart of reality; They are hidden Pillars, that are able to hold together-apart, the manifold contradictions of the world in flux. Of things gone out of joint.
These half-worlders, demi-urges show no one is secure from the abysmal world, no matter how many clever clauses, how many fore-thoughtful 'bad case scenarios' and hypothetical they fore-visualize to fortify themselves.
Indra ['The Shatterer of Forts'], Narasimha ['The Shatterer of Palaces'], are unveilers and far-shooters of the "blind spots" of vulnerabilities.
To far-shoot - Hekatos - Hecate of the cross-roads, the Crux of things...
These demi-urges are the locaters of very very intricate hinges, upon which complex worlds are able to turn… They are the (metis-) nexus.
By exposing Crucialities, these are heroes of Excess, who incorporate vulnerabilities back into the world, founding temples and homes on fault-lines and the Vesuvius of knowl-edge.
When [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] inherited the I.E. hero-slay-dragon myth, as he posits Epicurus as the hero, and Xt. Priests and their God as the Dragon, we glean who else populates the Half-world.
The Philosopher. KNOW(ers walking the )LEDGE.
The Yet to arise emergent pillar between god and monster.
The Philosopher, as 'half'-god, 'half'-monster…
Not the cross of Christ, that Demite, that ex-Cruciation referencing life itself,
but the crucible, the great cauldron of nature able to withstand high-temperatures, and eruptions of magma, life's magnanimous self-reverencings that are half-terrific, half-terrible…
Christ's demitism was a melting, The Philosopher's upsurge is a s-Mel-ting,… his demi-urgy is an extractive mettle-urgy, honey-ores and sulphuric base metals from the kernel of the earth…
"Most racist people just have a lack of information about the race they despise (for example blaming "blacks" for higher rates of crime and drug use in inner cities and black communities without understanding how "white" society created and perpetuates unequal conditions and disparities such as poverty, stigma, low education access and the war on crime, all of which works to create the higher levels of crime and drug use)…
Since racism (and other biases such as homophobia and misogyny) is fundamentally negative it requires a stimulating animus from outside itself in order to become active; this animus is usually fear, anxiety or anger.
The racist self-identifies with his own race to achieve positive self-worth and a sense of moral righteousness, namely an existential certainty. Now the construct is complete: the racist loves himself (and those of his own race) and hates others (of the hated racial group/s). Strong recurring emotions will still be needed to keep this construct functioning."
The bi-gotry of the half-Capable will on the one hand endorse self-valuings, while at the same time beg us to accept thuggery and misery of the human spirit as fact, in the face of any adverse circumstance. As if, nobility wasn't birthed in the face of the worst disadvantage, in the tightest corners...
One rather teach that adverse circumstance brings out the worst, rather than teach, adverse circumstance brings the worst out! The selective force. Adverse circumstance is to be blamed for black crime, rather than judge blacks as what they are in the face of adversity. What is left of any 'self-valuing' thence?
In the bi-goted world of the demi-maunderers and their half-hearted drivel, one is supposed to be guilty for their "self-valuings", the distance with which one rises, one distinguishes, one masters when it comes to whites…, and one is supposed to be excused for their "self-valuings" when it comes to blacks, in the face of competitive 'Diversity' which they love so much...
To the phil-anderears, any dis-Pair-ity is despairing… Growth, expansion, elevation are all responsible and to be blamed for the ones InCapable.
Dividing the world blissfully into creators and non-creators, Valuers, and non-Valuers,,, Subjects or Objects,,, Life or Death… if anything, is the real throwback to the level of amoeba-simians... Such a (bi)"lateral" way of dividing is called "skirting"… the issue. The collateral being a world run amok with narcotic narcissists and their creative license and stupeFacts, and moetic notoriety; no creative lysense.
Such is the babble of the feeble rabble, the babel of the fee-bill rabbi-ll…
Wouldn't they love to have it Both ways, these decoys and stool-pigeons full of half-pathos, It all comes down to money, and economy to explain the human spirit, apparently.
Half-Capable is literally another word for queer. And this is its self-valuing in action - its cure: reducing it all unsurprisingly to In-Cum gaps…, so right on Q!
How they love to reduce the gap, and Also speak of "self-valuing diversity promoting healthy agon", etc. excreta, excreta No pioneers, just buck-aneers Money, the great sacrament, the great ejectament, affirmed in refuse-al...
*Ass above, so blow…*
and half become double…standards.
Am-Bi-Q-ity
Too malign?
No, tourmaline. Only sili-cate, only delicate.
The fault-finder is dare-a-gate-ry, has dare-o-gait-ery, and is simply full of pun-gency…
"Did you see Sauwie hamming today? I couldn't contain it when he said, 'I feel that I justify the whole state of the world and all of history.' That guy's full of crack; he must have been stoned."
Gone off his rockers…
Rolling stoned.
Like sissy-puss caught in a hamster-wheel and faking it for a willed recurrence, rewording sanction into a sanctity…
In antiquity, "he was punished for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deceitfulness by being forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, repeating this action for eternity."
But what was his deceit? He tried to chain death, Thanatos, join the Absolute circuit… Userp the place of Zeus,
"Demimondaine, a euphemism for curtesans trying to rise up to respectability and social recognition..."
and was Vex-istentialized!
"Thus it came to pass that pointless or interminable activities are sometimes described as Sisyphean."
Demimundane, "the term commonly used to refer to the class that became 'starving artists', 'HUNG-er artists'…", poets hung-out to dry...
Has anyone wondered, what was that tragic vision that the Satyr saw, as he looked into the abyss till a hang-over?
It was this. The Martyr sissy-puss, so hung-up, taking the hamster-wheel for heimat, for home, old english ham…
Is it just incidental then, that sisys means "a goat's skin"?
Sisys weighed down under Lysis, so maddening, pushing the same old relic, turning over the same old hamster, vegging, wedging,
leaving no stone unturned, is called, seeking,
His High-ness Mounte-Bank seeking Lysis,, a release from woe-Runa a losening to his noose-aning...
Hex, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll!
Tra-gos means the goat's song,,
stoned
immaculate…- "the crack of dawn…"
"I'll tell you this, No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.
Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused One summer night, going to the pier I ran into two young girls The blond was called Freedom The dark one, Enterprise We talked and they told me this story
Now listen to this... I'll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat Soft driven, slow and mad like some new language.
Reaching your head with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of god Wandering, wandering in hopeless night
Out here in the perimeter there are no stars Out here we is stoned... Immaculate."
Mel-pomene had a word for this hamstring,
She called it Ham-artia…
It means, "to go off one's rockers", "to fail one's purpose, to miss the mark miserably", "im-Pair-ment", hubris of the half-ling, the fisher-king is also called the Loafer...
para-lies para-lys-e is the ham-artia of sissy-fuss, the tragic flaw of the troubled one, the rubble-d one, the remains of the day… the brown brown rock…
and rub-ble…
Some legends have it that sisyphus was the father of Oedipus, the lame one,
Freud related playing and rub-bing around with feces, the perverse pleasure in over-turning the overturning, the same, all over, the Oedipal longing for Absolute security, absolute safety, the Opposor of death,
sissyfuss,
Ham-artia became the sin of the tragic kNeero, marked by the gait, and ball-bearings,
"what walks on two legs and three legs...?" and so forth…, was the kneero sphinctered,
Mel-an-aegis marked the Ma-Linger… It remains and remains… The sin of the sinister path
Sin-istra What's "Left"…
the hamster…
Ham-artia was defined as, "The poet’s design was to teach us that whenever a man is destin’d by the Gods to commit a crime, he is necessarily and unavoidably engaged therein, and even by those very methods and means he takes to avoid it." [Terrason]
Sissypuss means, the tragedy of the circumventer of tragedy.
To lose health again and again was the hail of Lysios. But to re-jew-venate the loss again and again, w-Rap the same old hamster in fresh turn-overs makes the prophet of profit, stone cold sob...ber… the tra-giddy of the Higher one.
Fleur-de-Lys, The old custom of marking out criminals by the sign of the Ire-is, Ad-umbra-tion of the umb-Raged one,
lessons marked on stone, from the whore-acle @delphi
On the one hand, VOt will regard the value-selfing process of an individual as Compressions of Past value-coherences, and on the other hand, an individual Must Not be judged or e-valuated on the basis of this Past, of his heritage, of his group inheritance. Such an identity is a "construct", according to Wyld.
This is called being hypocritical, not "hard logic".
Do individuals pop out of nowhere?
Is VOt pushing for the positives of the Blank state, without the accompanying negatives? Only the advantageous aspects, not the miserable ones? Hedonism yet again? And is hedonism simply not, the half of one, and not the other?
If meritocracy must mean studying excellence in "its own light", Irrespective of anything else, the putting away of everything else, then it becomes a total negation of the conception of merit from the Fullness of pathos… Fullness from the totality of a self, formed by genealogical currents.
If anyone is shoving the (poi-)Son of "Half-hearted" pathos and stupid Xtianism of the "eternal moment", "in its own light" non-sense, it is the Cripple Wyld / In-Capable, Not the Racialists, with their genii-logical Poise-on - the strength of character informed by the lively genius of the past.
The Half-Capable Cripple Wyld, speaks of Racist Liars, We Wiled, We captors, we captivators, capitalizers - literally 'of the head', capitalis, speak of Racialist Lares! "Heads Up", of the familares…
Racial affirmations are no abscess of defect-ors, deserters, demites, and wanderers, but excess of squanderers and wand-erers…
Caput Mundi, the sur+ of hade-hunters, and the head-y ones… the ready ones, Heading for, Kaput Mundi, the axes of ruins, wastelands and wreckage, blue, out of circe-lation, pirate blue totenKopfs, the grim-mace of grimnir… the Head of the hooded one is the re-Main-der, the Chief one, sesha, re-Mind-er, the mis-Chief-ious one, asa. Name-sakers have many aliases, our Sur-name but one, For we are not For-sakers;
Not White Pride, Not White Guilt,
But Blonde Buoyancy, purely Lethe-al, purely Blank, purely Frank, the forget-fullness of everything else... blonde air and blue I-ed poise on brown shirts;
The drawers of blank spaces, of unmarked places, unchartered fasces, pirates! explores of the unknown Xs, with-drawers from oblivious traces, no je..sus!, or spotless graces...
Lethe-al weapons conquer,
Space-creators, world-creators, gulf-creators... This is our "Blank" State, our Big Blank Theory, our unused virgin fate resolved anew; we do not Cling and create relics.
Our remembrance is a rooting-For, a fo(e)menting…
Sheer, unconditional, straight-out, outright, downright, perfect, complete, absolute, utter, total are other words for the lethe-al blank… 0/100 is fatal, very lethal.
Blank-fullness is also an art to health… 6666 ft. above one's time, "Our buoyancy is Lethal" - Snakes on Eagle [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.];
If not,
In "its own light", everything can be raised to dignity… even feces and manure is precious. What is the big feat in that??
If all We can say at the end of the day, is each and everything is Already good, everything is to be celebrated at all times, then, VOt is nothing more than a perpetual Celebration, unending rave to the grave… heady and heavy, the stoned ones lying like stoned ones flat, leveled and lack-lustered.
Man, halfed, re-Cum-Bent, the Level-ution of dick-Heads, and the suc-cum-bed ones…
disgusting!
protests our hygiene, our High-Gene, at the prostrators,
at the High-Q of the Head-onists…
"Improper nutrient perfusion and Waste-removal alter cell metabolism. Such malfunction results in an inflow of extracellular fluid into the cells, and they burst."
The ones dis-May-ed [related to honey brown megin],
Dis Maid-Death,
and Death dis-Made,
try to cover up what is inevitable in word games. But reality peers out from the buffering of the buff-oons. The fat lady sings through the inter-Medea-ry and the half-cushions and the bum-pers.
Mothers cannot be sMothered. Snuff-ing is for sniffers and dope enthusiasts and Weed-Buffs… Buff is a sand-y color…
Sandy brown mary-jew-anna makes merry-juan-as, she bears "gifts of god"… one also calls such ill-legals and AIL-iens "Weed"...
Weeding out the Blanket-ers of the Big Blank - Death… These Adickted hEDENists, these merry Rob-in-Hoods, these atoners stoning at the stone, reveal the LaMina peeling away at [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], "The Devil be damned!" they con-wince, "Death be damned!" sound their sta-Mina...
Once was heroism pulling swords out from stones, now the Herodism is choking on coke and sue-siding with sufisms and Rumi-nations unto ruinations;
"Again I am raging, I am in such a state by your soul that every bond you bind, I break, by your soul. I am like heaven, like the moon, like a candle by your glow; I am all reason, all love, all soul, by your soul. My joy is of your doing, my hangover of your thorn; whatever side you turn your face, I turn mine, by your soul. I spoke in error; it is not surprising to speak in error in this state, for this moment I cannot tell cup from wine, by your soul. I am that madman in bonds who binds the "divs"; I, the madman, am a Solomon with the "divs", by your soul. Whatever form other than love raises up its head from my heart, forthwith I drive it out of the court of my heart, by your soul. Come, you who have departed, for the thing that departs comes back; neither you are that, by my soul, nor I am that, by your soul. Disbeliever, do not conceal disbelief in your soul, for I will recite the secret of your destiny, by your soul. Out of love of Sham-e Tabrizi, through wakefulness or nightrising, like a spinning mote I am distraught, by your soul."
Divani, the mad lover, the maddened lover, mad love…
"The lover is a king above all kings, unafraid of death, not at all interested in a golden crown. The dervish has a pearl concealed under his patched cloak. Why should he go begging door to door?"
Such libretto is fit for liebe-rteens, not libertines,
for the stoned, not the croned,
for pierrots, not poirots, and the Raw-Bin-hue-d, that is dirt and black and Brown is the apple's crown, The excalibur pulled out, shows the five-pointed star and the true sow-veri-n's (c)rusty throne…
Apple-lovers are no hEDENists, no felon-ists (well known to cat-u-llus as "cock-suckers") of...
The sand-man buries and blank-ets to sleep, and what is half-forgotten, appears half-familiar; Weed is another word for Stranger, what sprouts out of the blue…
the Queer is uncanny, unhamlich...
Quote :
"There is no place like home."
In Das Unheimliche, Freud describes the uncanny as a feeling of unease, of anxiety and terror even, experienced when encountering certain objects or situations that are also commonly referred to as uncanny. He starts by tracing the etymology of the German word unheimlich, concluding that it means more or less the same as its alleged antonym heimlich, namely, that which is familiar and private. He then discusses numerous instances of the uncanny in both fiction and real life: the uncertainty of whether an object is animate or not, the idea of having one's eyes gouged out, meeting one's Doppelgänger, compulsive repetition, the omnipotence of thoughts and wishes, the dead returning, and so forth. Freud explains how all of these things have something to do with the unexpected reemergence of certain suppressed beliefs dating back to early childhood (and on a larger scale, to the dawn of mankind itself), fantasies often involving some traumatic loss of control over the world and one's self. Things that have always felt familiar suddenly become loaded with an unusual kind of strangeness, the kind that is not that strange at all: on some level, one never completely gives up on the idea that the impossible may some day come true, even in the most homely and therefore unexpected of settings. It is when this realm of fantastical potential starts to bleed over into that of everyday reality that the uncanny occurs.
Freud provides us with many illuminating examples, though few as uncomplicated as that of the epileptic seizure, during which "[...] the layman is confronted with the manifestation of powers that he had not suspected in his fellow man, but of which he can discern a vague impulse in the outer corners of his own personality" (Freud, 1919h: 255, own translation). At times like these, the human body is forcefully revealed to be subject to powers unknown, reduced to a mere mechanical contraption. It confirms a typical, mildly paranoid fantasy that even this homeliest of homes may one day turn mysteriously against us. Contemporary Japanese horror films often deploy this bodily type of the uncanny. Ringu (Nakata, 2007), for instance, always has its corpselike antagonist crawling and twitching around in an extremely unnatural manner, thus personifying the threatening Other of every human body.
Though Freud's Das Unheimliche is full of highly useful insights to work with in thematic studies of films and literature, the uncanny in The Turn of the Screw might benefit from a more textual approach. This is where the teachings of Lacan may prove useful. In his retour à Freud, Lacan takes up the Freudian notion of the Spaltung, a split in the human subject that constitutes the subject itself; a split between what is conscious and what is unconscious, what is said and what remains unspoken. Simply put: the human being of speech (parlètre) is not able to experience objective reality – the real – in a direct manner. Experience and reason are mediated through the symbolic, language in its broadest sense, all systems that convey meaning. Through the linguistic sign the subject "makes itself master of the [real] thing, in as far as he actually destroys it" (Lacan, 1953-1954: 270, own translation). That is to say, he is under the illusion he has mastered it. In reality, he is subjected by the indirect workings of language, having lost the thing itself.
This lack-of-being (manque à être) is the fundamental trauma of every subject. The main implication is this: though there is a practical consensus between language users on the meaning of their discourse, its true meaning remains essentially subjective. The meaning of words consciously uttered or perceived is always determined by connotations stored in every subject's unconscious. Each word therein is attached to other word-clusters – personal memories and feelings – which are then activated, at least on an unconscious level. It goes without saying that as no two human beings can ever share a mind, their personal meaning can never be completely shared as well. Meaning itself is a relative and unstable construct: it "only indicates the direction, it only points at the sense toward which it fails [the real]" (Lacan, 1972-1973: 66, own translation). The trauma here is that nothing – and nobody – can ever be truly familiar. Saying "I see" is always a partial truth at best.
So what place does the uncanny occupy in the relation between the real and the symbolic, in that it triggers a sense of otherness in the familiar? The real is what is made to look familiar, what is mastered by the symbolic to make it less of a threat. The fact remains however, that this familiarity is only a pretence on the part of the subject. The subject knows this, he just does not want to be reminded. And this is exactly what the uncanny object does: it makes explicit the relative nature of symbolically experienced reality. It is not that the object itself is new and unknown; that would only account for it being threatening and frightening. It is that it reveals everything to be essentially unknowable.
The tableau shows two portly self-important magistrates, posing rigidly at opposite sides of a console table on which are strewn various objects representing mankind's accomplishments. But something does not fit the picture: at the bottom of the tableau the spectator can see a crack in its apparently solid realism. It gazes back at him, challenging him to identify it. Only reluctantly does it reveal itself to be a skull. As I have said before, an object is not uncanny per se. A skull may cause an entire range of emotions in an aesthetic context: melancholy sadness in a Shakespeare play; terror when splattered with horror movie gore; but also pleasure when singing some delightful song in a Tim Burton film. In Renaissance and Baroque painting a skull often represents vanity, the idleness of mankind's achievements in the shadow of human mortality. It is often depicted in still lives between symbols of science and art, as in David Bailly's Self-portrait with Vanitas Symbols. From there it speaks to evoke the spectator's more general, moral sense of the ethical, not to stir his awareness of an unknowable real.
The fact remains that, unlike Self-portrait with Vanitas Symbols, The Ambassadors has a certain uncanny quality to it, not solely due to the mere presence of a skull. Those viewing it are made to walk a fine line between pleasure and discomfort. Somehow this painting foregrounds the impotence of human perception, of the symbolic. The way in which Holbein conveys the anthropocentric story of the ambassadors is called the geometric perspective. In his day, it was considered to be most suited for capturing reality in its true essence, most able to mimic reality accurately. It was the normal, conventional way of seeing things, the only acceptable symbolic system through which a paintbrush could dominate over the real.
But the skull in The Ambassadors does not comply with that geometric perspective. It merely floats there, not offering any explanation for its location and deformation. The technique used here is that of anamorphosis, a distortion which requires a deviant vantage point if it is to make any sense at all. However, [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] in painting is most often applied to the entire tableau, and not to just one object in that tableau. In bringing together two different perspectives, two different sets of symbolic systems, this canvas renders the idea of perspective itself relative. There is no Absolute Eye through which the reality of the painting becomes fixed. It thus becomes beautifully uncanny. However, this sensation is shortlived: once the anamorphosis is rationalised as a mere technique within the conventions of painting, a parlour trick even, the spectator is once more able to regain his balance in the known world."
If Xt. is platonism for the people, then Hallelujahs are the Hallu-Sin-o-gens for the de-Vote-e of demi-crazies…
Demi-cracy in fact, Is, the Hallu-Sin-ation of in-no-sense, the jewvenile's senescence, rigid tablets of yore, expelled in a dys-Centre-y… and politely called the Common good in the rest-room.
There is a reason we call these hallu-sin-ators, junkies. With them, all is a hump, a lump, nothing differentiates anything from anything, its all good, if its plausible, app-laudable, to the applause-seekers, the plaudit audits of The Book keepers...
But who said maintaining a ledger was easy?
Audit-ory hallu-sin-ations happen on the Lost Highway…
"Lost Highway opens and concludes with an image of the road, or more specifically, of the yellow dotted-line, a vertical axis, flickering rapidly by in the darkness. It is in this image, which appears throughout what is otherwise 'not' explicitly a road film, the moment someone enters a car or takes a pertinent passage from one point to another, that the metaphoric play of the film commences. It is in this metaphor that all films become road films. The image is familiar. It has recurred throughout Lynch's films since _Blue Velvet_ (1986), when the reference to America's classic road film _The Wizard of Oz_ (1939) and its yellow brick road first began.
In speaking of Lynch's virtuoso use of sound, Michel Chion demands that we listen to Lynch's films, but that we listen with our eyes. In a similar spirit I would like to suggest that we think philosophy when we watch Lynch's films, but that we think it with our eyes and ears. One of the best legacies of the critiques of metaphysics has been the insistence on thinking Being not in the form of an Aristotelian logic of stable identity, a conception which suited the interests of systematic and scientific thinking, but rather as inseparable from temporality and spatiality, a conception more suitable to the interests of addressing experience and creative forms. Lynch's films show not only that the ontological and epistemological appear, but that they must appear in particular styles. Just as painting, film, and literature have been understood within national context, there has always been a very particular American metaphysics, with its very particular American dualisms. There was always something paradoxical about corn fed Dorothy, with the bows straddling her curly brown pigtails and those glittery red pumps loaded with enough power to send her skipping down the yellow highway. It is at this nexus, this position where violence meets tenderness, waking meets dream, blond meets brunette, lipstick meets blood, where something very sweet and innocuous becomes something very sick and degrading, at the very border where opposites becomes both discrete and indistinguishable, that Lynch enters with his particular reading and rewriting of this American metaphysics. Obscenity is one of the key ingredients in turning over the soil.
The explosion is a dominant theme throughout the works of Lynch. It has erupted in fire, fighting, music, dance and sex. There is in every Lynch film a moment of unbridled, excessive anger and destruction that ruptures any sense of reason and context and leaves everyone uneasy, from the audience to the critics to the witnesses within the frame. In _Lost Highway_ one such moment occurs when Mr. Eddy drives a tailgater off the road, threatens to blow his brains out, and beats him into a delerium. This exceeding of bounds duplicates both the bed and the breakdown of meaning, or better yet, meaning *as* breakdown. It is what makes narrative as poetics impossible. It is what inspires Nietzsche to shout in _Ecce Homo_, 'I am no man. I am dynamite.' Interpretation wields the blow. The house is on fire. The ideal space for these homeless characters will be the roadside motel.
It is interesting from this perspective to look at a classic American road film such as _The Wizard of Oz_, which while not being linear, is circular rather than cyclical. It transpires in an America centered in its heartland, an America where one goes out into the void of dreams only to return to the center. While this circle suffers duality and is fraught with doubles, it resists repetition. Home is not displaced but rather doubly confirmed as both origin and *telos*. Home is understood as a place outside myth, a 'real' place. In 1939 this 'reality' was signified by the familiarity of the black-and-white image, and the land of fantasy was signified by the seemingly unnatural spectacle of the new Technicolor. From a different technological vantage point Lynch will use black-and-white in his early films to create an unreal atmosphere in order to expose the mythos of 'reality,' but beginning with _Blue Velvet_ a new use of color emerges, similar to _The Wizard of Oz_ in that it also serves to complicate our sense of the real. Lynch will use color to paint an America that is as surreal as the Emerald City itself, but without the return to the reassuring black-and-white softness of Auntie Em. Black-and-white now appears in the video footage which implicates Fred in the murder of his wife. The documentary real is now shrouded in doubt, uncertainty, and even impossibility.
In _The Wizard of Oz_ the gendered limitations that mark the nice Midwestern girl, who forfeits the seductive red heels when she realizes her place really is in the home, mimic the limits of the Western metaphysical narrative ruled under the sign of logos, reason, and a Judeo-Christian God. While on one level _The Wizard of Oz_ critiques this metaphysics by allowing its protagonist to arrive at the coveted end point, here known as 'over the rainbow,' only to discover its *mythos* and to work her way back to earth, on the other hand it simply displaces the sacred transcendent with the secular metaphysics of home and heartland. Oddly enough this journey to secular America can only be traveled with the aid of witches, magic wands, and mystical ruby slippers. Lynch will also make use of these mythological forms to conclude _Wild at Heart_. The good witch points the way to closure, and the mythic Elvis serenade signals that it's time for the heart frame to fade to black extinguishing all memory of the hell of narrative. But an element of irony has entered the image. We begin to get the feeling we are being mocked, just as we did in the 'closure' of _Blue Velvet_, when we traveled out the ear and awakened back into the wax-like diorama of the suburban home.
The traditional American fantasy that Wizard of Oz admonishes is the one invested in the gesture of escape, the flight from home, the striving toward a better place which appears as a linear trajectory usually westward toward California as *mythos*. These narratives are so plentiful in American cinema as to constitute a genre in themselves. Though these American road films seem invested in a linear metaphysics of progress and *telos*, they are actually less dedicated to these notions than _The Wizard of Oz_. They are rather the foreshadow of the turn taken onto the Lost Highway. The classic American road narrative actually leads not to California but to a shattering moment of consciousness somewhere across the barren desert of adversity and solitude where a terrible truth emerges: that this is the road to nowhere. What lies ahead is only more of the same, what lies behind is a receding history that cannot be regained, and destination is impossible. This double bind leaves only one exit to glory: temporal death, whereby one enters the American metaphysical kingdom like James Dean, by dying and becoming an absence that is present as an afterimage in the dreams of the surviving: to be an American myth. To pass this exit is to meet either failure or farce.
_Lost Highway_ enacts the fissure between knowledge and reflexivity. This fissure is in the doubles and parallel worlds, as well as in cinema and spectatorship itself. Lynch's doubles are neither discrete nor antagonistic warring forces of contradiction. The treatment in Lynch's film of the American binaries pushes the limits between brunette and blond, innocence and criminality, blue and red, sex and death, surface and subterranean, to the point where they implicate one another. They are not unified, synthesized, neutralized nor overcome in this commingling. Rather they illustrate the perpetually divided 'origin' of reflexivity. Derrida describes the problem well in _On Grammatology_,
"There are things like reflecting pools, and images, an infinite reference from one to the other, but no longer a source, a spring. There is no longer a simple origin. For what is reflected is split *in itself*…"
In this depiction of meaning the very act of reflection creates not simply a double, but doubles back, splitting the 'source.'
Implicit in the notion of reflexivity, doubles, and representation is the notion of passage and link. The double is that which is both divided and joined. The link, the passageway, becomes the place where one is both and neither. Lynch's cinema has never fallen under the good graces of such readings. His vision of America has been neither condemning nor embracing, and his pastiche never simply playful nor nihilistic. Ultimately Lynch's primary interest has been in dissecting the cat, following along its strange corridors, peering into its pink folds and red tunnels. If we come closer, the inner organs begin to emerge. Lynch is interested in coming closer. Exaggeration, the seeing 'too much' of obscenity, has always been an important part of Lynch's language. Even a florescent diner sign can be obscene if we look at it long enough; and especially if we listen to it. Such visions unconceal something beneath form, something naked in its neutrality, the horrible thing that Emmanuel Levinas called the 'there is' and described as
...something resembling what one hears when one puts an empty shell close to the ear, as if the emptiness were full, as if the silence were a noise. It is something one can also feel when one thinks that even if there were nothing, the fact that 'there is' is undeniable. Not that there is this or that; but the very scene of being is open: there is.'"
"The Wizard of Oz is very much like a dream that has an enormous power on us’. The road that leads towards a ‘telos’ is fundamental to the Western tradition at least since the Jews left Egypt to reach their ‘Promised Land’: Israel. The positive character of linearity and the belief in an entity beyond this world, humanity is living in, provide the explanatory source for these thoughts. Although it can be questioned if religion is still alive within the enlightened, Western society where man has declared himself as ruler of the world, the moral superstructure inherited from Christianity is still occupying the minds of society, even if the religious basis has died out already.
Reni Celeste concludes that “Lost Highway takes the road film one toll further around the loop to reveal the mad dislocation that was already implicit in that American journey."
Double-entry book-keeping Bi-furcates any Ham-pering of the Nietzschean good and the Straussian good…
The [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] of Paul-itics and the necessity of necessary evils not withstanding, the Straussian cop-Out of demicracy as aristocracy is a Black-marketing - Value extortion Racket calling for mafia-protection, mass-protection... 'What is Liberal Education?'...
Demicracy as a Kabal for drug-cartal(e)s, legalized (meta)physical prostitution, and red-lighted dope-li-Cities,
what die-verse-ity! What am-merry-can jazz and blues, and spangled Super-Stars,
Demis!
The Lynchian universe is "the repetitious existence of the addict", the hallu-sinners from sinai, and "the endless circuitous return of the mind enthralled by obsession or guilty conscious" of the farce of the pharisee, turned around at the implicit split that is irreducible, and forever dis-orienting and uncanny,
'V',
Blonde Vs. Demimonde
This is Our parting of the Red Sea, Our hexodus from Eejit!
The Edge of Our Leger(-de-main)…
If this be hatred, Then it is a hatred of a
"Why suffer?"
That which is de-Test-able?!…
scata-Logical tautologies and third-rate (goo)Lagging of "Hard" logic, the stuck-up backward-ness of it all…
Are we so helpless?,
we need consoles and Lava-tories istead of Labr(ys)-tories?
so much coy fed on soy dump-lings? No TEST-Os-terone in that… No Yard-stick, only Joy-stick…
Are we victims?,
that we must suffer anything at all, and if anything at all,
This?!
Back-gammons and Black-jacks, Exper-tease and philosophy casinos- Banner banning and Standards Chartered…
Yes, this is a hatred of the Victim-industry;
We refuse to suffer the anarchism of narcissism, for this conflation is an inflation, that aristocracy is rendered the same as "manageable chaos", the Sic(k)ario of dirty paulitics of pleas(e) and petty-tions Alias value-hoaxing and value-coaxing,
respectively;
in Vestment and civil law Suits and polished attire and silk'n-smooth robe-n-hood…
No, We like it Rough and Jagged,
and in High-definition…
as in,
"The SiBile, with frenzied mouth uttering things not to be laughed at, unadorned and unperfumed, yet reaches to a thousand years with her voice by aid of the god." [Heraklitos]
"A man said to the universe: “Sir, I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”..."
- Stephen Crane
A rich word for lover, a sweet heart, is Alveolus.
In the antique sense, it stood for a hole or a cavity, a bee-hive where honey is stored… In Lithuanian, the beehive is called auLys, Slavonic uliji, In Armenian, "yLi" meant "pregnant", Russian ulica, "street," originally "narrow opening", and thus, Greek aulos, "flute", Latin alveolus "trough, basin; bed of a small river"…
True lovers only believe in love Making,
we do not believe Love "already" exists at the origin of the universe, as ontology, or whatever, little girls or e-jack-ulators or elfis super-star may fancy…
we do not need such mush, rooms...
just a hole, a cavity, a cave,
an adyton where Nyx delivers oracles, and lytta, her daughter, delirium, literally "go off the furrow," - "earth thrown up between two furrows"...
the Raver blows into holes, and she sends reveries, "pipe-dreams",
Orphic winds upon orifices, entrancing trees and animals,
au-Spices...
"Love Struck"
is another word for "chorus", who play the enchanted flute,
and loot,
in turn, many a heart…
ravish and rave many a golden cave…
we are Cronies, but no felons, which is to say again with Catallus, no "cock-suckers", but thieves of hades, - Aidonists, no hedenists,
plunderers (also called ravening), no blunderers,
of reality…
Apply the ock-Ham's razor, fools, but what razor when ock-Ham was already so blunt, fool! so watered down...
love-makers and love-strikers are con-Jurors on high seats,
and in-Fatuus on low seats… we fall gladly,
go deeper in
Fatuation...
alveolys,
the narrow entrance-d basin, the fertile Del-ta,
Del-phi,
Gno-Thi, Know-Thee!
O Death-crossers…
Nek+tarine lovers…
Honey [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] and seals well, It heals heels - the miraculous achilles; the gut-full one… to Germans thus, the Good-ly one - No flat-liar, but flat-lier;
River-beds and lying flat is where sleep and death and Lethe take over, and where we go wand-ering and pond-ering… Wake-full are the asleep and asleep are the wakeful, uttered Heraclitus, we conjure banks from blanks - so much al-Luv-ium… and under ware… The [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] past the overwhelming flow of time… the Phi-xed Deposit, the Principal/e;
The see-Cracy of the seeress, and stealers and sealers and stick(l)ers and spell-binders is lethe-al, Dead-ends and Deletions are where we begin, refuse-ing flat, all flat-liars;
Conjury against perjury is where we begin; and our plutotropism, and our c(h)oral oral… we Hy-mn-ous ones, we Hy-men-ous ones, we Hy-menace ones,
we Lovers, daters and court-ers, wooers and root-ers, and psycho-prompters,
in deed no Heroin(es)… oh woe-ers;
Charon carries on with those! -
Souls of Acheron (1898), Adolf Hiremy-Hirschl is the name.
"A katharma was the off-scouring of purification rituals: it absorbed pollution and was discarded or buried. Calling someone a katharma was perhaps like saying ‘scum’ or ‘piece of rubbish’, although with an added implication of being religiously impure and tainted."
"For they sacrificed [ethuon] those who were mistreated by nature to allay a drought or famine or something of that sort; and they called them “offscourings” [katharmata]." [ib.]
Quote :
"For when there was an oracle concerning such an event [a disaster or offence against the gods], a thoroughly ugly man was found and brought to that place. They burned him, making him the offscourings [katharma] of the city because of divine wrath. Therefore, when he had been selected for burning, everyone wiped him clean [periepsōn], saying, “Become a deliverance from evils for us.” From this we also have the word peripsēma. [“anything wiped off, offscouring,” LSJ]." [ib.]
Quote :
"They would call the scapegoats [pharmakous] of the city and the swindlers [goētas, “sorceror, wizard, juggler, cheat,”] offscourings [katharmata] for this reason. A certain city would undergo a misfortune, and an oracle was given to it, that it should burn to ashes the most hated [ekhthiston] and wretched [athliōtaton] man of the city, and they should take his ashes as an expiation of the evils of the city. Which indeed was done. And after they taken the most wretched [dustukhestaton] man in the city, in the middle of the agora they thoroughly burned him with wild figs. And after they took his ashes, they succeeded in scaring away [eis aposobēsin] the city’s evils. And from that the practice of calling all the unfortunate and poor and wretched and swindlers and pharmakoi “katharmata” came to be in force." [ib.]
Quote :
"Virtue! you runagate [katharma]; what have you or your family to do with virtue? How do you distinguish between good and evil report? Where and how did you qualify as a moralist? Where did you get your right to talk about education? No really educated man would use such language about himself, but would rather blush to hear it from others; but people like you, who make stupid pretensions to the culture of which they are utterly destitute, succeed in disgusting everybody whenever they open their lips, but never in making the impression they desire." [ib.]
Quote :
"Yonder is another, who is shameless and insulting, treating others as if they were beggars [ptōxous], the scum of the earth [katharmata], mere nobodies: he deserves to be paid with the same measure that he has meted to others. If you will consent to look at it in a true light, you will find that this, and not the former, is the kind of contribution that Meidias has made." [ib.]
Quote :
"This I think a man would say whose life had been one of genuine virtue. But the words which you, Demosthenes, will speak, are the natural expression of a worthless scoundrel [katharma], with whom virtue is a pretence." [ib.]
Quote :
"Demeas (amazed by this answer, and shouting) What is that you say?
Have you two no scruples?
Moschion: Why the shouting?
Demeas (in a rage) Filthy rat [katharma], you ask
Why I’m shouting? . . ." [ib.]
Quote :
"Callimachus the outcast [katharma], the butt, the wooden head!
The origin is Callimachus who wrote the Origins.
[Apollonius of Rhodes is not certainly the author, but Page argues that he is. He writes, “the intense personal animosity reflected in the word katharma]" [ib.]
Quote :
"Croesus: Whenever we moan and groan at our memories of life above, Midas recalling his gold, Sardanapalus his great luxury, and I, Croesus, my treasures, he [Menippus] mocks [epigelai] and reviles [exoneidizei] us, calling us slaves [andrapoda] and scum [katharmata]; sometimes he even disturbs our lamentations by singing. In short, he’s a pest [lupēros]." [ib.]
Quote :
"So let a man think of us as Christ’s servants, and stewards of God’s mysteries. Being reviled [loidoroumenoi], we bless. Being persecuted, we endure. Being defamed [dusphēmoumenoi], we entreat. We are made as the filth [perikatharmata] of the world, the dirt wiped [peripsēma] off by all, even until now. I don’t write these things to shame you, but to admonish you as my beloved children."
Quote :
"But besides his massacres, the rest of Sulla’s proceedings also gave offence. For he proclaimed himself dictator, reviving this particular office after a lapse of a hundred and twenty years. Moreover, an act was passed granting him immunity for all his past acts, and for the future, power of life and death, of confiscation, of colonization, of founding or demolishing cities, and of taking away or bestowing kingdoms at his pleasure. He conducted the sales of confiscated estates in such arrogant and imperious fashion, from the tribunal where he sat, that his gifts excited more odium than his robberies. He bestowed on handsome women, musicians, comic actors, and the lowest of freedmen [katharmasin], the territories of nations and the revenues of cities, and women were married against their will to some of his favourites." [ib.]
Quote :
"Offscourings [katharma]: “Aren’t you going to waste the offscourings [katharma], he said, and go away from us?” Aristophanes says [this word]. For the purification of a city they used to kill someone who had been adorned [or an adorned animal], whom they called katharma. “And then he drags [Tithonus] into court and interrogates [him], setting traps [made] of words.”. There are two ways to construe this: all in one, and [= or] again [with] an apostrophe after the ρ , [to produce] σκανδάληθρ’ ἱστὰς . Those who prefer the all in one [option] explain it as follows: the word comes from the phrase [τὸ ἱστάναι τὰσκανδάληθρα , namely] the perches of the traps, because when they are triggered they close and hold in [the trap] which fell in. And the sense [is]: after dragging [Tithonus] before the tribunal he asks us [to be] co-advocates for himself and hunters of words. For the the hyperbaton [would be] as follows: “then after dragging us into court and interrogating is he put out traps”. Σκανδάληθρα is the name for the small bent wooden sticks in the traps, into which they fit, and which Archilochos [calls] ῥόπτρον . So [Aristophanes] is saying here fixings and weights of words." [ib.]
Quote :
"The scapegoat [pharmakos] was the purification [to katharma] in this fashion.
After they had burnt the ugliest man of all – as I said earlier –
for the purification of the city during the greatest disasters,
they sprinkled [errainon] his ash throughout nearly the whole city.
Therefore they called this rite purification [katharma] before scapegoat [pharmakos].
The poisoner [pharmakeus] was he who used drugs to kill." [ib.]
Quote :
"And the pharmakoi, those sacrificed [thuomenoi] for the healing [therapeian] of the cities, were called offscourings [katharmata]. Such a sacrifice occurred in this fashion. After some fearful disaster had fallen on a certain city, they took into custody either the ugliest of all, or someone who had no relatives, and handing him barley-cakes, dried figs, and cheese, and beating him on on his genitals with squills and wild figs, and lighting a fire in the middle of the agora with wood that was wild and fruitless, they burned this scapegoat totally [holokautōsantes]; then they sprinkled his ashes around the whole city to avert evil [eis aprotropaion]." [ib.]
Quote :
"Dwell on the meanings of the word catharsis, as reconstructed by Renй Girard: “The Greek term for an evil object extracted by means of similar ritual is katharma. This term was also used as a variant of pharmakos to designate a sacrificial human victim. […] The word katharsis refers primarily to the mysterious benefits that accrue to the community upon the death of a human katharma or pharmakos. […] In addition to its religious sense and its particular meaning in the context of shamanism, the word katharsis has a specific use in medical language. A cathartic medicine is a powerful drug that induces the evacuation of humours or other substances judged to be noxious. The illness and its cure are often seen as one; or at least, the medicine is considered capable of aggravating the symptoms, bringing about a salutary crisis that will lead to recovery. […] The operation is the same as that of the human katharma, although in medicine the act of purgation is not mythic but real.” [Rene Girard, Violence and the Sacred]
"This fascination with the close relationship between the mind and body is reminiscent of classical Greek thinkers. In his essay, “Othello: An Essay to Illustrate a Method,” Burke sheds light on the roots of the medical metaphor in his theory of tragedy. Catharsis, he notes, is derived from the Greek word katharma. Greek society saw catharsis as a sort of medicinal purification, a cure. He writes, “a synonym for katharma was pharmakos: poisoner, sorcerer, magician; one who has sacrificed or executed as an atonement or purification for others; a scapegoat. It is related to pharmakon: drug, remedy, medicine, enchanted potion, philtre, charm, spell, incantation, enchantment, poison” (“Othello” 153). By explaining the roots of catharsis, Burke alludes to the belief of some Greek thinkers that rhetoric was an ambivalent drug that both causes and cures disease. In Phaedrus, Socrates equates the process of healing with the process of rhetoric (549), while Gorgias pairs the effect of speech on the soul with the effect of drugs on the body. Burke used the metaphor not only to build upon classical rhetorical theory, but also to explain the complex nature of language, and its potential to both cure and cause societal sickness."
"perikatharma (an intensification of katharma from perikathairō, ‘cleanse on all sides, or completely’), peripsēma (from peripsaō, ‘wipe all round, wipe clean’,—so, ‘anything wiped off, offscouring’ "
"The poem makes the belly a focal point for abuse; ugliness, has a pronounced belly; the Muses attack the class of shepherds, as “bellies only.” Pindar viewed Archilochus as “fattening” himself on his hatreds. Blame is seen as something monstrous (ou kata kosmon). So Hipponax’s target here is a pharmakos (according to some traditions, fed with inadequate, bad food), yet also an insatiable glutton. Both the satirist and the satirist’s pharmakos victim are seen as fattening themselves in a revolting way. In an intriguing interpretation of this poem, Christopher Faraone sees it as using “hexametrical chants or incantations” designed to expel harmful famine demons or to escort human scapegoats from the city. The poem may have a political dimension, in the tradition of invective-curse that views political opponents “as rapacious pests who threaten to gobble up the commonwealth of the city and who therefore must be expelled from the community, precisely like a famine-demon.""
The rat and rot that are the famine of the spirit, the uninitiated are the Exiled from reality, the Exilers of reality; sick-le and super star(ved) of Sigh-beria, hung-er and dicker for more value,
swollen bellies and drama Queens,
over-acting is a hamming, narcissistic inflation,
fattening of the herd, gluttony for the word, thinning of the world,
such penchant; little enchant, and around us, this half-light… twilight of the Hide-lers, saving their skins… - overcast by the out-cast, cimmerian simians, and depressed shadows, so downcast…
The half-sighted and ill-lighted, false purr-views of e-lated, sell-e-bray-te their toad-stools, and D-(h)eMpTys;
refuse become refugees geez…
fugitive thoughts refurbished and Fixed up in other ways furnishes a high Fix… The off-scouring of these scorers,
Kat-harhar-sis is T(h)rash mettle!
also called "half-death" in the rite of [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], to make way for the See-Bile-ene [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]; protectress against Hashish-ins! patroness of Hallu-sense, [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], Bella-donna of the Tri-stool...
All that is sanguine is sangfroid,
ye mini-sangers; ye serenaders and balladears…
Our hex-ametres foam from our psycho-Active entheogens, L.S.D is ly-Surge-ic acid,
Ly-surgic acid...
Quote :
"“Rage [rabies] armed Archilochus with her own iambic.”
Plutarch speaks of Archilochus’ “bitter” or “spiteful” art. Lucian says that Archilochus “did not hesitate at all to use insulting language [oneidizein], no matter how much pain he was going to inflict upon the victims of the bitterness [kholēi] of his iambics."
Archilochus was also a blame poet par excellence, the first great Greek satirist. Pindar writes of him,
But I must flee the deep bite [dakos] of evil-speaking [kakagorian]. For though I am far, I have seen Archilochus, full of blame [psogeron], very much in want [amaxaniai], fattening himself on grimly worded hatreds. [Pythian Odes 2.54–56]..." [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
Our kat-heartic (he)art is see-Bile-full, Dakini of the deep bite, s(t)ings sharp charms and verses;
oaths and "Vs."…
our talk is (de)spitefull, and our walk is so spikefull;
and Homer prayed to such stilletoes, "May my feet bring me straight to a city of righteous men; their hearts are generous and their intentions best."
Alas, even he found only the crooked and wretched, character assassins and cowardly slanderers,
Kharakter, kharax "pointed stake," "to engrave", "in-grain" "deep mark on the soul"… high jewel, unique fate
such Grave robbers, and name and fame mobbers,
Earth IS the katharma, absorbing their miasma…
The Ugly, the Monstrous;
She, is the outsider… expelled and exiled, refused, re-fused, and refuse of the shameful, And the shameless;
what could their kakagorian and Aria to Arya mean to Aria- dne;
"Most Pure"…
Weaklings claw for Kare-ctor flaw; These are the scum of the earth, scoundrels and scum-backs, we also know them as ass-holes...
Only seers can absorb their pollution, only earth can absolve their collusion,
and so it is thus:
Righteousness is, when Righteousness is in exile, "Blame Poets and the Truthfull ones meet a scapegoat's death"
is the Muses' law...
Dharma…
Katharma…
"I love you, O Ariadne,
"I love you, O Life", could only be sung to/by a (B)Flame-poet…
It is the song of the earth, of the soul to the body...
Nietzsche: Ariadne's Lament
Who will warm me, who loves me still? Give warm hands! Give the heart's brazier! Prone, shuddering Like one half dead, whose feet are warmed; Shaken, alas! by unknown fevers, Trembling at pointed arrows of glacial frost, Hunted by you, Thought! Nameless! Cloaked! Horrid! You hunter behind clouds! Struck down by your lightning, Your scornful eye, glaring at me out of the dark! Thus I lie, Writhing, twisted, tormented By all the eternal afflictions, Struck By you, cruelest hunter, You unknown—god ...
Strike deeper! Strike one more time! Stab, break this heart! Why all this affliction With blunt-toothed arrows? How can you gaze evermore, Unweary of human agony, With the spiteful lightning eyes of gods? You do not wish to kill, Only to torment, torment? Why torment—me, You spiteful unknown god?
Aha! You creep closer Around midnight? ... What do you want? Speak! You push me, press upon me, Ah, already much too close! You hear me breathing, You eavesdrop on my heart, Most jealous one! — What are you jealous of anyway? Away! Away! What's the ladder for? Do you want inside, Would you get into my heart, And enter My most secret thoughts? Shameless one! Unknown! Thief! What do you wish to steal for yourself? What do you wish to hear for yourself? What will you gain by torture, You torturer! You—executioner-god! Or am I, like a dog, To wallow before you? Devoted, eager due to my Love for you—fawning over you? In vain! It stabs again! Cruelest sting! I am not your dog, only your prey, Cruelest hunter! Your proudest prisoner, You robber behind clouds ... Speak finally! You, cloaked by lightning! Unknown! Speak! What do you want, highwayman, from—me?...
What? A ransom? What do you want for ransom? Demand much—so advises my pride! And talk little—my pride advises as well!
Aha! Me?—you want me? Me—all of me? ...
Aha! And tormenting me, fool that you are, You wrack my pride? Give me love—who warms me still? Who loves me still? Give warm hands, Give the heart's brazier, Give me, the loneliest one, Ice, alas! whom ice sevenfold Has taught to yearn for enemies, Even for my enemies Give, yes, surrender to me, Cruelest enemy — Yourself! ...
Gone! He has fled, My only companion, My splendid enemy, My unknown, My executioner-god! ...
No! Come back! With all your afflictions! All my tears gush forth To you they stream And the last flames of my heart Glow for you. Oh, come back, My unknown god! my pain! My ultimate happiness! ....
Modern Greek: Stamatis Gonidis
Katharma
έρω πόσο κακό μου έχεις κάνει Πόσο βαθιά μ’ έχεις πληγώσει Πόσο πολύ μ’ έχεις πικράνει Σχεδόν με έχεις εξοντώσει
Και τα σημάδια στο κορμί μου, στην ψυχή μου Και στην καρδιά μου κάθε πόνος Είναι από σένα μόνο από σένα κι όμως Μου λείπεις πάθος μου, μου λείπεις Και δεν μπορώ να σ’ αποφύγω Την σκέψη μου σαν διαρρήκτης, μου παίρνεις όπου κι αν την κρύβω Τρελαίνομαι παραμιλάω, ζαλίζομαι παραπατάω Στην κόλαση νιώθω πως πάω Κάθαρμα, κάθαρμα Κι αν με σκοτώνεις σ’ αγαπάω
Scumbag
I know how badly you've hurt me, How deeply you've wounded me, How much you've upset me You've almost annihilated me
And the scars on my body, on my soul, And every pain in my heart, Are all from you, only from you And yet I miss you, my passion, I miss you And I can't avoid you You steal my thoughts like a burglar, No matter where I hide them I'm delirious, I talk to myself, I'm dizzy, I miss my step I feel like I'm going to hell (You) scumbag, (you) scumbag, Even if you're killing me, I love you
Canned pre-cooked meat was first introduced under the brand name SPAM; ingredients included pork and ham…
Quote :
"By the early 1970s the name "Spam" was often misused to describe any canned meat product containing pork, such as pork luncheon meat. With expansion in communications technology, it became the subject of urban legends about mystery meat and other appearances in pop culture. Most notable was a Monty Python sketch [the title of the musical version of the film became Spamalot] portraying Spam as tasting horrible, ubiquitous and inescapable, characteristics which led to its name being borrowed for unsolicited electronic messages, especially spam email.
The sketch is set in a cafe where nearly every item on the menu includes Spam canned luncheon meat. As the waiter recites the Spam-filled menu, a chorus of Viking patrons drowns out all conversations with a song repeating "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam… lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam!", hence spamming the dialogue...
Electronic spamming is the use of electronic messaging systems to send an unsolicited message (spam), especially advertising, as well as sending messages repeatedly on the same site. While the most widely recognized form of spam is email spam, the term is applied to similar abuses in other media. Spamming remains economically viable because advertisers have no operating costs… The costs, such as lost productivity and fraud, are borne by the public and by Internet service providers, which have been forced to add extra capacity to cope with the deluge.
Spam become a ubiquitous part of the U.S. soldier's diet. It became variously referred to as "ham that didn't pass its physical", "meatloaf without basic training", and "Special Army Meat". Spam's chief advantages were… extended shelf life.
During WWII, Spam was not only eaten but was also incorporated into many other aspects of the war (grease for guns, can for scrap metal, etc.); it was so prominent that Uncle Sam was nicknamed "Uncle Spam"…"
Imagine Canned meathead with a long shelf-life - "as it were", gooing for ages, and pretty much substitutable for any argument, any point of view, in fact just about anything at all, and you have a good definition for junk male… also called P-harm-akos; the substitute is the refuse of society...
Spammers are so full of crap, their scrap mettle quite logically, is fixated only upon, stale brown Iron-ies… rust, is what has lost trust in the world, in the god… and Straw men and the ghost of John Fouls lingers anal-retentively, tentatively as its own spectral double: John Rambo...
Spam is "Ham that didn't pass its physical" has a special meaning, when the Can(n)us cannot contain spamming,
"bring it down to earth",
John Ram-bo of the "special forces" Knows what the problem is… He was hammed in 'Nam; someone let it rip, and cram-med his head with spam, and when he came together, he saw everyone except himself, as "meat-heads"…
Mystery…? No, lets Can it!
Cannus' idea of a Sin-see-err half-assed debait is "exploring" "neutral" questions to the answers he already has, spammed in the manner of "doubtful" questions he already has…
"What's your rendition of it?"…
Wham!
He's scored another, the junkie…
"How many hits?" gives the c-Ham-pion, fits… Cannus of Spamalot is a Blahk-knight, a missionary, who cant wait to give it to you…
"Unsolicited spam" is another word for The Good Samaritan…
The "kick-ass" re-Former - "as it were", is a "kiss-ass" crusader; Show me "how it applies in the complex world"…. is the jesu-Wit's Phishing of "Help me help you"; "Invisible sky-hooks" were only well-hung elsewhere with these Phishers... *nudge nudge*…
If there was one demicrat Sauwie who experienced his relief of expulsion as a "spiritual pregnancy", here, the other demicrat cAnus, experiences his agony of expulsion as an "abortion complex"…
The pre-cooked, half-stunted development that is half-broken, half-jammed, half-crammed and half-hammed is like a "joint" put together and rolled together…
We call it, "Can-nabis"…
Can-nabis gives the Ill-usion of freedom, while it lulls and dulls the mind, a ripe recipe for tire-rants... ""I know that I dont know, and so you can't know either" is the only way everybody gets to be right…,
Come together,
in a joint…",
is the shibboleth of shithead tyrants…
Here come old flat top He come groovin' up slowly He got joo joo eyeball He one holy roller He got hair down to his knee Got to be a joker he just do what he please
He wear no shoeshine He got toe jam football He got monkey finger He shoot Coca Cola He say I know you, you know me One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
Come together Right now Over me
The illusion of indoctrination canned as detox - now spams as a cat-e-chism and Lie-sense to solipsism…
Agitprop re-runs, Publicity stunts, the spam of the stunted, is the scam of moral dignity pants...
The Crusade was always a campaign… Still, Hood-winking was never more a rat-race as this...
Copy-paste fast-shuffles, selective adverts nicked relevant, Malware and Domain Name System redirections, Procedural maneuvering and Captain Hook malarkey are widgets for midgets…
We call kiss-ass demicratic minions, who "bend it like BeckHam" to cram any which way "brown-nosers" - the Stringent "by the book"...
"Mite is Right" is the half-light of the deMite First Blood and John Rambo; Cannabuzz skunk and mossquitoes, Moral stinkers and spirit drinkers,
There are people who bend to mend their way to life, and then, there are those who mend to bend their way into life.
These are the Trannies, cross with the cross-currents of life, angry and red…
The red cross was the mark placed on the doors of London houses inflected with the plague of rats…
These are the plagued themselves;
by excruciating choices and cruel voices, standing on the cross-roads, half-here, half-there, feeling split, dreaming spliff, -
not that roll,
but the real niko-teen, the prize-winner, as it is known in some circles... a trophy is the spoils the apostrophe is short for 'detour' - chemistry in recoils...
gender theories and little fairies, the other word for a pixie is also a brownie…
"To pee or not to pee", LGBT Qs them '?' like an unending torture… the high-biscus is all the buzz… if only, butt also…
Crossing one self and prostrating to Christ, crossing the Rubicon, is harder than a heist…
These criss-crossers and Cross-kissers - The cross-dresser is a double-crosser, also called a stool-ie - a rat, a betrayer, plots dreams of vengeance unduly…
DNA machines and unicorns of maniacal monk gooses laying golden eggs, and trix and treats and,
Super-powers and evil geniuses, pot-anical experiments and cross-ciphers calm giving pain-killers and morphine, also called that "brown stuff" by the supine;
Their pre-Dick-ament is a terrible one;
Life's a drag, for drag queens after drag-in flies, dungeons dont cut it, free luncheons dont cut it either,
nuts and bolds, they screech for mutinies and transmutations, F.U, and U.F.o ohhs…
skypers and skippers of duals and I.O.Us(e) - hang on! back in a strap on! Bums and loners, bummer! no boner…
turning and twisting and writhing and seething, ring-worms and ring-tones, mozart, freed of art... triggers and mood-zones, masochism is just the start…
pages after pages of plaster, a return to innocence and alabaster screams, of their plastic dreams...
anatomical zoos and catch 22-s, there is nothing left to do, but spread the plague when what's spread is vague…
phallic cock is all poppy-cock its all con-Test-able and in the dock; gender-fluid is in vogue for neuter, "deviant and kinky" - pays well for tutor, Its whats in, and the beauty that matters, glad tidings that evolution all but flatters…
Darwin days drowned in purple haze, trick ponies and jew-brownies, the good, bad, and the ugly, the lost, tossed and the snuggly, cross-daters and castration haters masturbators in frustration fakers await that mega Singularity!
Stagnant waters breed pond-scum and resi-due, Back-logs breed piles! goo Lag ooze;
H.A.M. is a-Crony-m for "Haul ass and move"!
"The ocean seems interminable to men, if they venture on the rolling bark…"
wave after wave come the hounds of hell, the Trip-le barking of cerberus…
barks roll, logs roll-call on log-barks,
marks,
res-ponds-ability when you unlock the unconscious; improper response-ability sends the erinyes behind you, taur-ment(or)-ing you, and drawing fumes -
Smoking is in-Jury-ous to health;
Flare needs flair; old English glare - from brown ambergris electrum, per-fume for the gods…
"The ancient Chinese called the substance "dragon's spittle fragrance". During the Black Death in Europe, people believed that carrying a ball of ambergris could help prevent them from getting the plague. This was because the fragrance covered the smell of the air which was believed to be a cause of plague.
In the 2001 film Hannibal, Hannibal Lecter sends Clarice Starling a letter which he writes while intentionally wearing a hand lotion containing ambergris, correctly assuming that this would lead her to discover his location in Florence, Italy, due to lotion utilizing ambergris being legal in only a few countries.
Ancient Egyptians burned ambergris as incense, while in modern Egypt ambergris is used for scenting cigarettes."
The g/flare of the fuming cerebrus the hema-Rage of the fuming cerebrum, is a Blare of the port-passing fulcrum, sounding the horn, what an earthy brown Tan…trum! no player or orches-traitors, no teaser, nor orgone-ists, no sin-thesizers or organ-ists; The Synthetic man announces the morn…
"Our future selves call us from infinite pasts, and each night are eroded with our dreams.", plays the sand-drum;
the [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] is no conundrum…
Throat-singers and Blue peacocks show the excess of life, remover of poisons and the black mass of the unconscious s-lag ooze, Ganga, not Ganja, no derangement or rim-bawd - no demi strumpeters, or demis' trumpeters, but dancing shamans and rain-hook-ers, no camp-followers, or wet-hookers, trick-ling lag-ooze…
grapes of wrath and back-logged res-Sentiment, brown re-sins and van-ill-a resi-duals de-fer-ment, only acid dreams, no lucid dreams, leek or peak values, just leak and peek values -
eve-dropping and speculation, fixed rates slide up and down the bull market, and lo! Pez' moves match-fixe''s, fits, and indexes the volatile socket;
movers, and shakers… are the dammed, back-logged, and jammed, e-Van-Gel-ical Quakers, "J-LO" for clubbers, goo-delicious for dubbers…
"love don't cost a thing…"
back-logs become duly, a pain in the ass; a feather flick(er) there, is a fault line here…
"Smoking is in-jew-rious to health", proved Bernays… the nephew of the first anal-yst of the unconscious...
Arsenic rat-poison and tar - re-sin-ous residues, make up pipedreams... RaT and TaR are not just two-way mirrors; but these are sin-dromes… "a place where several roads meet"… and ooze together; Stag-nant swamps are places of (karmic) resi-Dues… The things we turn, turn on us, and the or-log rolls on…
Car-sin-ogens make no gents or cow-boys, "The Marlboro Man is dead", barked Margritte beneath a pipe, ""Ceci n'est pas une pipe" ("This is not a pipe")"… sparking the cancer of a dandy named Andy War-hole: The barking of the unconscious is the warning that cant be put into labels… for, as Margritte realized, it is lost in the very nature of art, that cannot Mirror without self in-sin-uation… [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] sin-ister combs her locks and mocks, and truth lags… behind…
and so it follows…-
The for-bidding of in-hell-ations can only be heard like faint barks of the mad dog in the market; the distant seismisms, the mad man alerts in the market, O Zarathustra...
"and the waves of the sea terrify them and the courser of the deep heed not its bridle."
Friends look on friends in-helling and laugh on pampering, than ham-pering… The smokin' hot need no to-Back-O…!, highs from ghettoes or sighs from get-hoes…
There is "living dangerously", and then there are the stunt-doubles, and the stunted, the half-pints and the runted, smoke-screens and the false-fronted;
The [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] who can't hear [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]… the labour pains of pearl-kings or queens - these trance-porters in hackney,
Ken ye the sup-porters
in the midnight sine matinee?
"Yeah, I'm a back door man I'm a back door man The men don't know But the little girl understand Hey, all you people that tryin' to sleep I'm out to make it with my midnight dream, yeah 'Cause I'm a back door man The men don't know But the little girls understand All right, yeah You men eat your dinner Eat your pork and beans I eat more chicken Than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah I'm a back door man, wha"...
Game junkies are the other kind of scorers, and game-Addicts.
Up-Loading and Down-Loading junk - We call this kind of traffic "The Daily Grind": "The boring Hamster-wheel-like process of performing fairly mindless repetitive tasks to gain a reward."
The "Kill ratio" and gaining XPs (experience points) become the "high" of the game itself, so much so, that the word ShitBucket is used to describe "the players lifestyle, not having time in their life to do anything but play games, even having time to take a shit, hence the Shit-Bucket", or as in "an item necessary for scoring a high level, within the BattleField franchise: "Jeff: check out that guys level Paul: i wonder if he's emptied his shit bucket"…"
In this regard, its perhaps because rats are the first to be rat-tled by any danger, and are venerated as complements to the elephant that removes obstacles head-on in its path… rats rather are the quickest path-finders to bail out of ship and empty its "shit-bucket"; these ultimate self-clingers and 'game-survivors' are therefore the biggest up-loaders of logic to keep their "shit up"...
Winning and scoring is "Da Shite", so to speak...
Some relevant up-loading of such logic include:
Value-OntoTheology or Hard-logic or Hamsterdaming a.k.a:
"Save Scumming – Saving the game, performing an action, and repeatedly reloading until the desired result is achieved. Typically abuses the Random Number Generator. Common in games with gambling…"
Self-valuing a.k.a:
"Zoning – Refers to the practice of using moves and strategies to keep the opponent in a position that suits you (not them) best. This can be as simple as keeping them at a long distance or can be more complex, involving keeping an enemy at an exact distance where their options are limited. Generally a fighting game term but is also important in RTSes, MOBAs, and any other genre where positioning is important."
Clan-destine Philosophers a.k.a:
"Indie – A contraction of “independently produced game” meaning a game created outside the large game publisher ecosystem. This can be good or bad; it can mean a game crafted with the artistic intent of a single creator, devoid of the constraints of a large corporation. But many game creators will apply this label to themselves in a purely emotional attempt to imply creativity and auteurship even in the absence of these qualities. Indie games will very frequently be lazy 2D sprite-based platformers with huge ugly pixels in an attempt to appeal to nostalgia but will also be careful to have none of the challenge of the 80s platformers they ostensibly seek to imitate. You can also apparently call your game “indie” even if you have heavy corporate backing and hundreds of employees."
Before the Light or Philosophy 77 a.k.a:
"Closed beta - A brief period of time where developers give a game to fans to test, and then pretend that all of their problems and complaints will actually be fixed before release."
And last but not least,
The Good/Gold/Kabbala a.k.a:
"[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] - Handing down high level gear to low level characters to help them along their journey, much to the envy/annoyance of others."
A Twinker is also referred to as a [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]:
"a munchkin is a player who plays what is intended to be a non-competitive game (usually a role-playing game) in an aggressively competitive manner. A munchkin seeks within the context of the game to amass the greatest power, score the most "kills", and grab the most loot, no matter how detrimental their actions are to role-playing, the storyline, fairness, teamwork, or the other players' enjoyment. The term is used almost exclusively as a pejorative and frequently is used in reference to powergamers."
Twinkers are essentially herders; they amass 'initiates' without the twinked ever having to go through any initiation…
In common terms, its called "compassion for the weak"...
They are game-changers and short-circuiters of initiation with no regard to the "storyline", the "overall evolution" or "quality" of the "game"…
These are the Break-givers to the under-privileged; the Half-term Recess, and stagnant recessives…, the hooded and masked ones as Mendel called it…
But twinkers are also the ghosts in the machine, ancestral ghosts and winkers ; ) giving "lucky breaks" and "spontaneous" wealth of diverse strengths we call "heirlooms", passed down the line, because life-as-such is Open.
These are the lovers of life,
no accident-eliminators, no pressure de-selectors, no Fool-proofers - declaring life all ready holy, be...ing all ready victory, existence all ready valuable…
What is selectively attained cannot be Twinked into a short-circuitry of rare become rear...
There are religions that rear(raise) rare(unusual) beings, and there are religions that rear(retro-grade, ar-rears, back-log) rare(half-cooked, uninitiated, botched-up) beings…
It was said by a wise one, asking a bum for money is pre-positing a prompt like a slap in the a-- to get going, a kick-start from behind to make him want to attain to money-lendability… bestowing confidence and heart is like performing CPR emergent-cy procedure, till there brews a pulse that attains Upon our own…
We call such mould-ing, such fungi-bility, (y)east-rising - "eager" (sharp-edged, pointed, piercing, pungent…), i.e. literally, "raring to go"...
And we call such rearing, holy-lies...
And then there are wholly lies! - Those Back-steppers who Institute Tests into Testaments betraying the liberals' desire to save all, their loyalty to their fellow species, than what devolution or dysgenics could mean for life, and the 'game' as a whole, if initiations are bypassed and selective pressures are eliminated…
They are not prompters from behind kick-starting a surge forwards and onwards, but they are yankers pulling the world behind till all directions become meaningless an-arche, non-valuable...
Twinkers are back-setters of setbacks, like Terminators from the future re-proGramm(ar)ing from the past to send themselves ahead; passing "high level" gear from the future to their "low level" selves down behind, survival is all…
"Come with me if you want to live…, I'll Be Back" - quite literally…
We call this a goo-fus chronology;
Crone-ocracy is the only answer to ill-logical chronocrazy! The production of Ham-ingja...
Bequeathing is a "transfer by will"; that which goes ahead of oneself, is the other half, which follows… our own 'luck', our own heart.
"The son found Grandmother horrible to look at
Nine hundred heads the old one had
But another came forth, all golden
Bright-browed, she brought strong drink to her son..." [Hymiskvíða St. 8]
"In parsing the word hamingja, we see the term ham meaning "shape," or "hide.", hamr, "soul". The ham as a concept occupies a place somewhere between the "physical" and the "spiritual." It has been suggested that the Hamengja is akin to the Raven Miunin, and this makes a good allegory in any event as Miunin means memory. The lower arm of the Eihwaz rune is a metaphor of memory. The great black raven travels the world of the shadows and illusions, of partial truths, stories, legends and myths. This mystical bird is a totem of wisdom and second sight. Our history is distorted and so are our own memories. What we remember is our version of the events. This memory can be deceptive at times, as can be seen in the case of deep trauma and also in many forms of denial. It is important to keep this in mind as we follow our hamingja down into the roots of Yggdrasil, the world tree. Looking into our deeper selves and our deeper history; traveling back into to a time beyond time, we follow our hamingja into the deep roots of Yggdrasil. We suffer in this life if we fail to meet the challenge of self knowledge. We literally live in a perpetual identity crisis seeking every new fad, bouncing from one religion to the next. We see these kids, they go to extremes to be differant with their nose rings and purple hair.
Like the two hooked ends of Eihwaz, these two birds [thought and memory] represent two worlds that are interdependent. Ravens are carrion-eaters and are dependent on the death and misfortune of others. They are skilled scavengers, noted as amongst the smartest of the winged world. They could always be found on the battlefield feeding on the corpses of the fallen. In this grim imagery is were we see how Hugin and Munin pick through the dead and forgotten valleys of the mind.
Odin fears the loss of Munin even more then the loss of Hugin.
Hugin and Munin fly each day over the spacious earth. I fear for Hugin, that he come not back, yet more anxious am I for Munin.
Odin sees that the preservation of our story is more integral to the self identity, then is the capacity to add to that story with new layers of meaning. When we have lost sight of our personal Munin (memory) we also lose sight of our historical self, the personal story becomes disconnected and the emotional psyche breaks down; devolving into fragmented impulses and disjointed obsessions. Feelings of loss. Loss of purpose, loss of soul, loss of destiny. With no guide, Hugin (thought) is left with no direction. It is Munin that seeks out and finds the right shape and projecting it into the outer world of self expression.
"Since then I go I follow the pathways the pathways and roads beyond the sea and even farther, beyond the sea and beyond the beyond; And whenever I approach the wicked, the Men with black hearts, whenever I approach the envious, the Men with black hearts before me moves the Breath of the Ancestors..." [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
"The exercise of living with honor and working great deeds increases one's hamingja."
And her, Thunder purrfect Ties/ thighs/ highs/ ice/ eyes...
"From then till noon no foot should pace the street, No eye look down, she passing; but that all Should keep within, door shut, and window barr'd. Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: The deep air listen'd round her as she rode, And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. The little wide-mouth'd heads upon the spout Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur Made her cheek flame; her palfrey's foot-fall shot Light horrors thro' her pulses; the blind walls Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead Fantastic gables, crowding, stared… And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, Peep'd -- but his eyes, before they had their will, Were shrivel'd into darkness in his head, And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait On noble deeds, cancell'd a sense misused…" [Tennyson, Godiva]
High [Hyge] Rider, rode through town, Broom vroom... sky-clad and covered only in her hair and her High Airs,
Shedding her fine-ries for shedding the fine It rightfully took her Mod-esty to balance all the weal-th of the kingdom…
Discretion is Presence of mind, present in the Back-drop, that the ancients called [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]…
'to quest', 'demand', 'desire, 'long for', 'excitement', 'concern', 'wrath'; 'courage', 'anger', 'spirit', 'soul', bravery, state of intensity;
Mod, from which we get mood, mode, measure, and mod-esty, that which is Flagrant… smokin' hot, and also conflagrant…
"Mod-Thryth,
imperious queen of the nation, showed haugtiness, a terrible sin. There was no brave man among the dear companions, save for her overlord, who by day dared venture to gaze at her with his eyes; but he might reckon deadly fetters, twisted by hand, assured for him; that after seizure, the sword would be prescribed, the patterned blade should settle it, make known a violent death. Such a thing is no queenly custom for a lady to practise, peerless though she may be - that a 'peace-weaver' should take the life of a beloved man on account of a fancied insult….
However, Hemming's kinsman put a stop to that. Those drinking ale told another tale - that she brought about fewer acts of malice, injuries to the people, as soon as she was given, adorned with gold, to the young champion, the dear prince, when at her father's bidding she sought out Offa's hall in a journey across the yellowish flood. There she subsequently occupied the throne well, famous for virtue, while living made good use of the life destined for her, maintained a profound love for the chief of heroes - the best, as I have heard, of all mankind, of the entire race between the seas." [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
They are allegories for the High[hyge, Old Norse har]-Craft;
It is rude to int-rude and look directly upon the unconscious workings of the soul… Awareness is taxed, only relaxed conditionally, with the pervading of self-trust; peeping toms are struck blind and consciousness extinguished from seeing trust with no support, ride naked only upon its own furious Airs, that fan fire; we call this guts…
Such peace-weaving of the self, is a gold-making - a fiery bold-making;
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], like its Saxon cognate mód, means bravery. However, in Old Norse, it is often used very specifically for a state of intensity in which one suddenly brings forth all of one's innate powers. For instance, when fording the swollen river on his way to Geirröðr's dwelling, Þórr must take on his "Ásmóðr"…"
Mod[bravery, high, vir(ago)] and Wod[madness, ecstasy, horse] riding together, were thus the basis of [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]...
"The tabu element of the Peeping Tom story may be a genuine part of the original myth, recalling similar penalties for those who intruded on the forbidden rites of other fertility goddesses - Artemis in Greece, the Bona Dea in Rome, Nerthus or Hertha in Germany and rainmaking ceremonies in India. Like the intruder in other tabu stories, however, Peeping Tom may have played a more positive part in the ritual, as the priest-king, the consort of the goddess who was sacrificed to ensure the fertility of the crops and herds, and well-being of the community. Other men, often strangers or criminals, and finally animals, came to be substituted for the sacrificial priest-king, and this stage may be represented in the Coventry Hock Play. In many places at Hocktide - the Monday and Tuesday following the second Sunday after Easter - women caught and bound or 'hocked' any man they encountered and exacted a forfeit from him."
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] of Xt. "modesty" not-withstanding,
the Mod-esty of the Whore is a spine-chilling back-drop shedding it all, a thermo nude-clear cold fish-ion, tempering gold-glues and adhesives and adherings…
binding, bondage, hand-cuffs - holding-fast… peace-tying of the kingdom...
(self-)Trust and pulling one self together, needs no self-Valium-ing, co caine or brown sugar, just au naturel, Bare brown Cane... sugah…
"In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns."
Scratch Pussy.
Back-scratching...
""something for something" or "this for that" in Latin, means an exchange of goods or services, where one transfer is contingent upon the other. English speakers often use the term to mean "a favour for a favour"; give and take", "an eye for an eye", "tit for tat", and "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours"."
In more political terms, its also called Log-rolling;
"The trading of favors, or quid pro quo, such as vote trading by legislative members to obtain passage of actions of interest to each legislative member. In an academic context, the Nuttall Encyclopedia describes logrolling as "mutual praise by authors of each other's work". In organizational analysis, it refers to a practice in which different organizations promote each other's agendas, each in the expectation that the other will reciprocate."
and even more originally as [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.];
"Pork barrel is a metaphor for the appropriation of government spending for localized projects secured solely or primarily to bring money to a representative's district… "tip for tap", "blow for blow."
In the commonest form of Back-scratching, paying to get in the game is called "pay to play".
One must pay lip-service, suspend judgement, be curteous, and become a be-liebe-r, a be-loved to "get in the game".
Forming a clan of be-loveds,
tip for tap,
blow for blow -
one way or another,
if cohesion is to be maintained...
Even Flat-teries need Batter-ies, High-rising dough-nuts, legal tenders, and Wall-nuts cabbages, lett-uses and cash-ew-nuts, a whole bowel of pine-nuts and chest-nuts, a veritable des(s)ert, is it not?
cashing in, scratching in, bull-ions - no matter the value!
These are Ain-Soph-ers, no Philo-Sophers; Great vessel[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] and mous(s)es, meaning, "froth and scum", and mush-rooms - that mean "sudden appearances", like moses... gel-ing into J-Latin-ous J-Lo-tins and mafi-osas…
It wasn't about Pacino-s and Pesos, The God-Father's credo, Was about Play-Sos and Pay-Sos:
"There are many things my father taught me… keep your friends close, but your enemies closer…"
"I scratch your back, and you scratch mine" vouch-safes; "I'm a businessman; blood is a big expense' proof-chafes, and friction becomes a fiction, with a-Dick-tion and a-FX-ion,
Ain-Sophers Soften Offers Often,
of love and bene-Dick-tion, I bliss you with my blessings and you bless me with your blissings;
scratch scratch
hatch patch
holes and such dressings…
Protection rights and copy rights for copycats and copywrights, is short hand and long arms for "keeping it within the Family"… A Tradition of Father, Son, and wholly Shades, The Trade of Dy-nasties and the ILL-k wholly-Made;
Mob-stirs and the Syndicate, under the Synthetic man vindicate, rats, snitches, and swiss cheese full of holes like snatches saying yes-please!
Lip-service and ass-kissing, standing up simply for back-Press-ing, boot-licking and cajolery, such 'am-Fib-ian toadyism is just jewellery...
Pimps and Recruiters, glorifying body-Guards - VO and its suitors; cashing-in and checking-out, broadcast for broad casts and logrolling rooters…
Love-Sickness is meal and veal, "its the best in the city, try the zeal"... Muse-sick is this music - Imports from sissily covered up too quick...
A mouldy malady is no melody or ballad, this palette has no palliate or palate... Appraisings loaded with praisings, Uprisings quelled with phrasings,
Wheedling along weedling and channeling, such eye-washes in stead need mouth-washes! Pork-barreling, a little gargling!!
Ain-Sophists kissing Ayn-Sophists, err-ban sin-ics, a bussing pets'-Office; defending spoilers of philo-Sophers, cough out peck-sniff-eries, these scoffers, if can't cough-out duffers for their coffers…
"Philosophy is Frienship" - is a Sophist's Franchise; Suffrage castrated off rage - the sage's theatre of outrage is a Zoephist's malaise!
Back-scratching and pussy-galore, Role-playing-games' pleasant allure, occult-lore, the p(h)easant's lure, sagas and chevelure…
Back-scratching is back-stabbing -
'Truth'-lovers are bruit-lovers, such brute-lovers!- no apple or fruit-lovers... Knowledge is not born of protectionists and mafias, God-fathers or God-fodders, Loyalty binds, but it also blinds, Courage blinds, but it alone binds… Friendships are born of truth, not, Truth of friendships...
Shrew-d…inger's cat and he-cate, magic whisk-ers entangle the whim-sick-al and the petty... To kill with laughter and such hilaria, kn-Owl-edge gives no hoot to meows or malaria!
Flash-backs refer not only to memory that is suddenly and unexpectedly revisited, or the sudden burst of lightning - wit and anger, or the lightning blitzkrieg and the irruption of Acidity, and Rabidity, but [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] to "hallu-Sin-ogen persisting perception disorder (HPPD)" months after the potency of Ly-surgic acid has worn off"…
She who blesses, and gives greetings, greta, "to seek out", is also a marks-man... Flash-backs of re-Grets non-fleeting...
knocked-up, left, was left knocked-out with a com(m)a, that left ,
"an unfinished business"…
as always with those who cannot accept life is a High-brid(ge),
and also,
while also,
A Pan-dora of gift and also poise-on, A natural born killer while also a bride, all paws-in…
To choose one, pausin' the other, was the real poison…
Beatrix the Virg-hoe, The beatific Bride, is life's own Pride, in its lethe-al renewal - no friend or foe…
thaumazein and keen visions, need yes And No and path-breaking mean missions, from the middle, from the heart(h)… edges and hedges, stretches a(-)part;
"Doesn't a good teacher get you out of your head one way or another?!"
"...even as worn-out clothes are cast off and others put on that are new, so worn-out bodies are cast off by the dweller in the body and others put on that are new." [The Bhagavad Gita] The Virg-hoe is a flashing switch blade, dead-ly renegade; de-tails come from tail-oring; to cut up in pieces, peace by peace, limb by limb…
"Those of you lucky enough to have your lives, take them with you. However, leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me…"
Virg-hoes hate being messed with; a bloody mess is what you'll be left with…
"Once a Hanzo sword is unsheathed, it must get some blood spilled on it or a curse is placed on the current owner of the sword…"
To paraphrase, "Once a Han-zoe word is un-veiled, it must get some blood spilled on it or a curse is placed on the current rune-r of the word…"
The Ride of the High-Bride is past all and any High-Bribe;
"If on your journey, you should encounter God, God will be cut."
"For those regarded as warriors, when engaged in combat the vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior's only concern. Suppress all human emotion and compassion. Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself. This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat."
Arjuna, Ar-gent silver, quick-flashing mercurial sol-ver, Vir-go full-stoup-er - the life re-new-ing thea-ter…
"Beatrix wakes from a coma with a razor sharp focus, similar to Arjuna's - the hero in the Gita. She wants sweet bloody revenge… "The Bride: When fortune smiles on something as violent and ugly as revenge, it seems proof like no other, that not only does God exist, you're doing His will…"" [Gita]
Thus begins Beatrix' Thea-trix… A Hy-aline feeline Matrix,
And so she goes after them,
one by one,
And takes them apart,
limb by limb…
Hattori Hanzo: What brings you to Okinawa? The Bride: I'm here to see a man. Hattori Hanzo: Oh yeah? You have a friend living in Okinawa? The Bride: Not quite. Hattori Hanzo: Not a friend? The Bride: I've never met him. Hattori Hanzo: Never? Who is he, may I ask? The Bride: Hattori Hanzo. Hattori Hanzo: [Serious, switches to Japanese] What do you want with Hattori Hanzo? The Bride: [Japanese] I need Japanese steel. Hattori Hanzo: [Japanese] Why do you need Japanese steel? The Bride: [Japanese] I have vermin to kill. Hattori Hanzo: [English] You must have big rats if you need Hattori Hanzo's steel. The Bride: [English] … Huge."
The ver-men traded in their blades… How could she forgive such bet-rayal? Lotto for motto; A cut in the draw is also called a Stab! and a bad cut, is a Back stab! of its sweep-stake…
"Whosoever's value…" - a free for all, robbing all value…
"So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?" [Pink Floyd]
Cat-bunglers Leaving clutter with their mutter, than stealing clutter out the shutter;
Mumblers fumbling, Tau(gh)t-ology without Taut-ness, crumbling… the circular dizziness, so humbling; the grumbling muffled in all the rumbling - of bling bling, what Rhapsody, in their [c]Rap-sody!-
"What is the loftiest Ideal?" - the High-Brid(e) virgo asks,
"The search for the loftiest ideal is the loftiest ideal." - the High-Dried masks…
duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
"Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?…" [ib.]
If only She could be con-Sol(e)d with such smug cleverness for heroism, christ-valuing and glad-tiding smog here-oism, if that's all it took from the High-Dyed ones with their hedonism, such Flashes of brilliance, nil heed-onism, un-skilled and unkilled Bill-ions and scholar-ism - also called "one who lives at ease"… with his Tollere-ism...
Then what use for whip-lashes?
; )
and those high-lashes…
"Where swooning trees and moonless beams vied For the painted eye of the royal bride Whose gliding curves were deified ...beyond Her grace where love would die…" [Cradle of Filth]
"Thought is a garment and the soul's a bride That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide…" [Yeats]
Anal-retentors shift and shuffle logic; these high-Plyed ones, were truly brain-Fried ones;
man become man-ure, man-ure become man-uver, and "then what?" already a victory, no fuel to wind the fact-ory…
Expel anal-retentions to ig-Night re-tensions, Become lethal, my friends…
For the pill-grim who has only devotion, only theories of ap-prehension the Bhakti nor the Shakti path feeds ovation; the ignorant only swear to their pretension;
If you meet the Buddha, kill him!!
"In the beginning was the sword…" Cold mettle icykills, flash Back… The Bride is a heart-stopper, Vide Cor Meum, Dante sobber Her pride suff-Ices the waters of Pisces proper...
"The Bride: It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality..."
Knower of the triggers and the merry-dians, of the trees and the vibrating palm viridians - the greeting of Beatrix is a (h)em-erald touch... also called, "the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique"; that [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] the opponent within taking five steps, and sometimes months after the blow, as a delayed reaction...
What's sown now, shows fruit later… Date set running on meter… A protracted kill of high-tautness…, No tant-Rums, episodes or HPPD-gaucheness... Flash-backs are the lethal see-Rum of the Bride, the sea-Rum of her tide... "What doesnt kill you leaves you with scars…", "Kill Bill" is the Higher logic of venus and mars…
Relic-retentors are Fib-rators, Blowjobbers flashing Vibe-Rate-ers no creators, but mew-seums needing cure-ators, band-aid stuck-Up glad-iators...
Red Bull
What is in front is now an affront, shun-ting, flashers preferring the back punting; butt-heads gathering butt heads in hash-trays and silver-screens, "10x10" Bibles are the other com.Reds - pioneering the new eco-greens,
plant factories for plant-factories implant fact-ories to transplant fat-teries supplant arte-fact-ories for self-flat-teries new arte-ries for copy and brown coughFie-paste-eries... "PLANT - a hiding place for drugs"… fat butt-Aries and Ashes are also called heroin - butter flyfairies while wyld"cats" and design-er drugs amp up the ruin - hysteries for mysteries...
The term sometimes used to describe the mixing of Viagra and ecstasy and the pounding headache that can result is called Ham-mer-heading - butt-heads head-banging… is also a palindrome, for google-chrome: "value-added features"
Creatures who cant kill their teachers, remain only preachers, devoid of all features - of character-heroes and jack reachers, just abbots and butt-heads spooning old script-ures… flash-back hAm-ateurs - also called "dabblers", turning tables and meta-gamblers...
But Life is a bitch, come to correct the glitch, (No screw-ups with the Virghoe) rats ditch, and so rats to the ditch end of the pitch and their corn-y kitsch.
"The Bride: You and I have unfinished business.
Bill: Baby, you ain't kidding."
Lyssa Har Har Harr
Gender : Posts : 8965 Join date : 2012-03-01 Location : The Cockpit
A fan-ny is what we call a butt-head with their stuck head, cant see a ray of light ahead…
like dung-beetles alike dung Beatles with their dung beat-les… love and freedom and all that dung bleat-les...
And Lo! Pez with special FX butt-tricks to light annex… stuck backs in their turtle-necks; these are the spiritual Retreaters from kek and nyx… ham-mer-heads with no battle-'xe!
We call such bailees the Dutch-Act; "The act of deserting or retreating, slow-suiciding, or fleeing from something…"
These Flint-Stones, no cave-dwellers, only night-club-bers swinging I phones; Pharoahs embalmed in their phero-moans, and Indiana Jones bailing on bourbons...
We also call such Baileys', Dutch-Courage; "unusual or artificial courage arising from the influence of alcohol…"
Re-sins and Preservatives, Art-ificial Derivatives, Mummies and Conservatives, High-ro-glyphic Vegetatives;
Anti-aging creams and Lost Ark dreams; Cream of the cream e-lightists, Bals!-am con-cock-tion sigh-ntists;
No notion-filters for animas and pneumas; Just potion-philters, for enigmas and enemas!
There are good actors and cinemas, then there are jack-in-the-pulpit arisaemas; "raised structure on which preachers and neutrals stand, flatform for Xt. ministers, and actors underhand…
Jack-on-both-sides is a term for "neutral"; apt for a fuzzy logic value-neutral… "Drug till you drop dead" is no selective futural, Double-dutch for 'fit'/'unfit' is digging a funeral…
"Failure is tripping down to hell Success is living to tell the story", is a big Lag ooze tailoring the gory AFTER the event - is no standard but a sell, a shell to fix-up the scoree…
Faustianism is A nature-conquering, Environmental adaptation to poison plants is a conditioning, but "who to whom?" without parameters is a primping, hooking on hookers without perimeters is a pimping; Such Foist-ianism is a nature-con-queering!
No Kublai Kahn, or faggoty ass catholick yarn; A 100 Odyssesus made it out the vortex, But name one that so far has evolved our cortex?!
Loops and lubes are for noobs, Qualia-soups and such coups are for dupes, building chicken-coops for martyr-troops, "Voluntary Free-determinism" nin-cum-poops… Such Fiesta-nism is a nature-con-Cur-ing!
"Crowned with rank [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] and furrow-weeds, / With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, / Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow / In our sustaining corn." [Sh.]
In our sustaining scorn…
The spineless is bent; we call that a goo………..n! The bent posture of the impostor is a goo…n-lagging, dragging,
"A less commonly used but known phrase is ‘lotus-eaters’ or ‘lotos-eaters’, depending on whether one uses the Latin ‘lotus’ or the Greek ‘lotos’. The legend of lotus-eaters (lotophagoi in Greek) is well known in western literature.
The earliest reference is to be found in the 9th book of the Odyssey of Homer composed circa 8th century B.C. Here the winds blow Odysseus’s ship towards North Africa where he and his sailors land in the country of the lotus-eaters. The hospitable people of that country offer them the only food they know - lotus flowers and lotus fruits/seeds. The Greek sailors succumbed to a state of inner satisfaction and inactivity. They no longer wished to sail back home but wanted to dwell there among the lotus-eaters. Odysseus forced them back onto the ship, made them fast till the effects of the lotuses they ate had dissipated before they were able to sail homeward.
The most well-known and detailed description of this is in the English literature in the poem of 173 lines of Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), Lotos-eaters. It also, like Homer, describes the indolent and languid state of the lotos-eaters.
In the age of mythology that is long gone little facts were woven into intricate and complex myths. It is possible that in the 8th century B.C., the stories of the meditation masters of India were floating about in the then known world. India was a land of mysteries to the Greeks at that time. The maps of the world eastward of Egypt were hazy. The myths and stories floated about and triggered the imagination of bards, wandering singers and story tellers.
While Egypt was known for its copious lotuses, it is in India that the full mystical and symbolic significance of the lotus developed. We suggest that the legend concerning the yogis of India became distorted as it travelled and floated to far away shores on wings of many story-tellers’ imaginations.
It has been suggested by some critics of poetry that the land of the lotus eaters as depicted by Tennyson does not have a physical reality and is more like a vision. For example, his lines 16-17:
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flush’d; and, dew’d with showery drops,
surely describe some symbolic mountains with three snow-topped peaks. Neither Homer, nor Herodotus who locates the area to be somewhere in Libya, mention the three snow-clad pinnacles. The question is - what might these three pinnacles symbolize? On that, more will be said at another time when space for a full analysis of the poem is available.
In between the veils of myths, some facts shine through. In Tennyson’s poem, we read lines that suggest less of the common lassitude but more of the trance-like state of meditation or even yoga-nidra (art of conscious sleep, sleepless sleep known to yogis). We read:
…To each, but whoso did receive of them And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the grave; And deep-asleep he seem’d, yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
How to eat lotuses?
As one progresses in meditation, one of the most advanced meditations consists of leading the mind’s concentration through the petals of the lotuses in a prescribed order as initiated by one’s meditation master. For each petal there is also a mono-syllabic mantra, consisting of the letters of the Sanskrit alphabet, to be visualized in the petal. In the process, there is (i) a downward progression from the eye-brow centre or the throat centre to that in the base of the spine, and (ii) the upward progression in reverse sequence.
After these progressions have been fully mastered, and their effects realized, the petals are eliminated, the lotuses have all been ‘eaten’ or ‘consumed’ and their energies merged into the main stem, the mainstream of the current of kundalini. Thus does one become a lotus-eater.
This fact is illustrated in the stories of Parvati. In the Tantra system, Parvati is known as the personification of kundalini. Kundalini that lies coiled up at the base of the spine is undertaking ascetic endeavours (tapasya) to meet her eternal spouse Shiva who dwells in Mount Kailasha that is the thousand-petal lotus. She first fasts on fruits, and then on leaves and petals. When she abandons even consuming the petals and leaves, she becomes known as ‘a-parNaa’, ‘the one without petals’. She becomes slim, as the central sushumna stream of kundalini becomes a luminous streak of lightning like a lotus stem. Only then does Shiva appear before her and they are wedded. This is the story behind the ‘legendary’ lotus-eaters."
In contrast to the convolution of the rest of the bowels, the Rectum is so called, because it is a Straight-intestine... and sharing branches with Rectification - "to make straight";
We call this Fixing…
And they call this Fixing, Tikkun;
But Goo-ns af-fix a Match-fixing - "a match is played to a completely or partially pre-determined result, violating the rules of the game and often the law. There is a variety of reasons for this, but the most common is in exchange for a payoff from gamblers."
These are bandit Racoons;
Quote :
"Raccoon is marked from birth with that characteristic black eye-mask. He has a reputation for being a trickster and nighttime bandit in disguise.
In movies, cartoons, and drawings, the archetype of the thief is pictured so often with a black scarf with two holes for eyes. In many legends, raccoon is busy stealing things under the cover of night or out from under the noses of blind people. Raccoon symbolism is closely linked with what we might be blind to or what others are blind to in us.
When we wear a mask or watch a character in a movie wear a mask there is the unwritten understanding that the wearer is attempting to escape the consequences of their actions. Even if the thief is robbing from the rich to give to the poor like Robin Hood (i.e. stealing for “good”) they still have to hide and evade because they are operating outside the law.
In the end, raccoons in legends are always caught and marked as thieves as evidenced by their face mask and ringed tail. In our world, we may escape without any outer consequences, but we will still have the inner doubt that plagues us.
He is known for raiding campsites and trashcans when everyone is sleeping.
We all steal from time to time, be it something as simple as a pen or as invisible as the attention of another. Stealing energy or time from another person, or even stealing from their reputation by mentioning their name, wears away at the fabric of who we are over time. Raccoon spirit animal teaches us how to notice the telltale signs in ourselves of when we are snatching up little bits that might not be ours. He helps us come further into integrity.
Raccoon’s sense of touch is his most heightened of senses and the majority of the focus is in his front paws. He has “hyper-sensitive’ hands that have long whiskers known as “vibrissae” that assist with identifying objects before actually touching them. Nearly two-thirds of his portion of the cerebral cortex responsible for sensory perception is dedicated to the processing of tactile impulses. He thinks a lot about what he feels.
Raccoon will wash his food whenever he has the chance. It is thought that he does this to soften the thin horny layer on his paws, which makes it easier for him to feel his food. Whatever the reason, he loves to play in the water with his hands.
Raccoon can adeptly open jars, untie knots and turn door handles. His five toed front hand closely resembles ours. His lack of an opposable thumb doesn’t stop him from attempting to enter our world. Raccoon symbolism is about how we choose to handle situations. Will we “grasp” quickly for what we want or will we take the time to “wash our hands” of our wrongdoing before enjoying the incredible opportunity around us?
Working with our conscience is all about how we handle situations." [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
Will the cuckoos break out of their coCoons,
or will the Goo-ns (com)promise life, with more gig-a- boons? 10^9
Sham-an drums and I tunes...
From Ayahuasca to Alaska, will there be any rain soon?
All kinds of Brown… of the Autumn Equinox… Brown, yellow, orange, red, violet and merrygold...
I
Hei-fer
Quote :
"The Almabtrieb literally: "drive from the mountain pasture" is an [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] in the alpine regions in Europe, referring to a cow train, where the cows are brought down from their mountain summer pasture in the Autumn, to be stabled in the valleys…
At dusk, everyone brings out flutes, accordions, and alphorns. Soon the mountains echo and reecho with the old folk melodies indigenous to the Alpine regions…"
"But we awaited you every morning, took from you your overflow and blessed you for it. Behold! I am weary of my wisdom like the bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take it.
I would like to bestow and distribute until the wise have once more become joyous in their folly and the poor happy in their riches. Therefore must I descend into the deep: as you do in the evening when you go behind the sea and give light also to the nether world you exuberant star! Like you, I must go down- as men say, to whom I shall descend.
Bless the cup that is about to overflow that the water may flow golden out of it and carry everywhere the reflection of your bliss! Behold! This cup is again going to empty itself and Zarathustra is again going to be a man. Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
Zarathustra went down the mountain alone no one meeting him. When he entered the forest however there suddenly stood before him an old man who had left his holy hut to seek roots. And thus spoke the old man to Zarathustra:
"No stranger to me is this wanderer: many years ago he passed by. Zarathustra he was called; but he is changed. Then you carried your ashes into the mountains: will you now carry your fire into the valleys? Fear you not the incendiary's punishment? Yes, I recognise Zarathustra. His eye is pure and no loathing lurks about his mouth. Does he not go along like a dancer? How Zarathustra has changed! Zarathustra has become a child; he is awakened: what do you want now with those asleep? You have lived in solitude as in the sea and the sea bore you. Alas, will you now go ashore? Alas, will you again drag your body yourself?"
Zarathustra answered: "I love mankind."
"Why" said the saint "did I go into the forest and the desert? Was it not because I loved men all too well? Now I love God: mankind I do not love. Man is a thing too imperfect for me. Love of man would be fatal to me."
Zarathustra answered: "What did I say of love! I am bringing a gift to mankind."
"Give them nothing" said the saint. "Take rather some of their load and carry it with them— that will be most pleasing to them: if only it be pleasing to you! If however you wish to give to them, give them no more than an alms and let them also beg for it!"
"No," replied Zarathustra "I give no alms. I am not poor enough for that."
The saint laughed at Zarathustra and spoke thus: "Then see to it that they accept your treasures! They are mistrustful of hermits and do not believe that we come with gifts. Our footsteps ring too lonely through their streets. And when at night they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before sunrise, so they perhaps ask themselves concerning us: Where goes that thief? Do not go to men but stay in the forest! Go rather to the animals! Why not be as I am— a bear among bears, a bird among birds?"
"And what does the saint in the forest?" asked Zarathustra.
The saint answered: "I make songs and sing them; and in making songs I laugh, weep and mutter: thus do I praise God. With singing, weeping, laughing and muttering do I praise the God who is my God. But what do you bring us as a gift?"
When Zarathustra had heard these words he bowed to the saint and said: "What should I have to give you! Rather, let me hurry away lest I take anything from you!"
And thus they parted from one another, the old man and Zarathustra laughing like schoolboys. However, when Zarathustra was alone he spoke thus to his heart: "Could it be possible! This old saint has not yet heard in his forest that God is Dead!"" [TSZ, Prologue, 1, 2]
"Perthro opens or provides a barrier to the dark forces including the realms of the dead. It makes us deal with the question of what we would do if we died now.
Use for finding lost things, to find lost property.
Placing runic forces into the stream of cause and effect. To evolve ideas or events as a magical act." [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
The High-fers coming down the Alpine path - the train of cows, was taken to symbolize the "train of thought"…
Should one go missing, the chain of 'cause and effect' and how we understand our sense impressions, how we arrange them, the order from which we "make" sense, of the world… also changes.
Bells are tied, that ring the "trend" of their coming… Storms are derived from "tumult.
The Autumnal descent is usually a down rush of "torrential rain" beating upon us…
We lose many things, and many leaves wither and shed. There's a down going before a re-birth.
When Zarathustra comes down the mountain, his "cup" is over-flowing, and yet this is no love of mankind he says, and yet, i love mankind he says.
He brings a "gift".
The saint says, the foot-steps of the bell-wearing High-fers "ring" lonely through the streets, and gifters are often mistaken for stealing thieves.
But in autumn things are stolen and lost…
Zarathustra has come down to say, God itself is lost. God is dead; shed.
This is an enormous gift… a "down rush" not many will experience as a gift… the great looming thundercloud...
The autumnal Almabtrieb and Zarathustra's coming down the mountain are both commentaries on the Perthro rune.
It is the "lot cup", the "isthmus", the open mouth of the vaginal canal, or the nape of the neck (mountain), from which one draws oneself out, both a mountain-barrier and of conducting bold "bottle-neck" experiments, the 'beakers' and 'test'-tubes of our alchemical laboratory. A vale is a river-land between two ranges of hills, from which we get phrases like a vale of tears, valley of death, Perceval, literally "he who breaks through the valley/vale/veil, and also, lily of the valley, etc.
"God is dead" and such "lost property" is refound and re-valued again… This is Perthro.
What autumn sheds and what is dead, takes other forms in the "causal" sequence… "the train of thought"… and in this sense, Perthro is associated with a quality of "deja vu" - the already-seen, or "deja tendu" - the already-heard, like the saint has "already seen" Zarathustra, but now encounters him in a different form, a more lucid form… [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]
"What fate could befall me now that is not already my own…?" [Nietzsche]
Perthro as Experience: The "perils" of bottle-necks; "experiri "to try, test," from ex- "out of" + peritus "experienced, tested," from PIE *per-yo-, suffixed form of root *per- (3) "to try, risk" - Peril: verbal root belonging to the group of" *per- (1) "forward, through" via the notion of "to lead over, to press forward."
Perthro as Experiment: cf. test, tete, skull-cup/kapala
In Hinudism, the Govardhana legend extols Krishna who raises up a whole mountain Go-vardhan or 'cow'-increase, as the sense-impressions [Indra] beat down in a terrible down rush of flooding…
In the absence of any protective cover, any "God", it is we who must yoke/yog and lift our whole Body-of-Becoming upto a loftier point of view to "make" sense, a "train of thought". The mountain functions like a down-turned cup with the peak up - a protective barrier corresponding to Perthro.
We sur-'mount' - which sources the word eminere "to stand out; to project" - forward-throw, that relates to dice and gambling, a re-arranging of all our re-Sources, thus including our luck…
Krishna raises up the very ground we stand upon, such that, it now becomes our sky… i.e., we attain to a new "under-standing"…, or to put it differently, we "gain ground".
Com-prehend - to catch hold of (ourselves) completely…
In autumn, the process of abscission breaks down the complex to the simple, a down-rush, releasing simple nutrients to be stored in the roots, that makes leaves red and wither, while a protective layer of cells cover the exposed areas.
We catch hold of our roots, to rebuild again, to project and put-forth new fruits from our under-standing.
We break-down our experiences and catch ourselves again with new experiments… a "deja-vu"...
V
Thunder-clouds, Mountains, and Seas
Nietzsche wrote:
"How to understand our cheerfulness. - The greatest recent event - that 'God is dead'; that the belief in the Christian God has become unbelievable - is already starting to cast its first shadow over Europe. To those few at least whose eyes - or the suspicion in whose eyes is strong and subtle enough for this spectacle, some kind of sun seems to have set; some old deep trust turned into doubt: to them, our world must appear more autumnal, more mistrustful, stranger, 'older'. But in the main one might say: for many people's power of comprehension, the event is itself far too great, distant, and out of the way even for its tidings to be thought of as having arrived yet. Even less may one suppose many to know at all what this event really means - and, now that this faith has been undermined, how much must collapse because it was built on this faith, leaned on it, had grown into it - for example, our entire European morality. This long, dense succession of demolition, destruction, down fall, upheaval that now stands ahead: who would guess enough of it today to play the teacher and herald of this monstrous logic of horror, the prophet of deep darkness and an eclipse of the sun the like of which has probably never before existed on earth? Even we born guessers of riddles who are so to speak on a lookout at the top of the mountain, posted between today and tomorrow and stretched in the contradiction between today and tomorrow, we firstlings and premature births of the next century, to whom the shadows that must soon envelop Europe really should have become apparent by now - why is it that even we look forward to this darkening without any genuine involvement and above all without worry and fear for ourselves? Are we perhaps still not too influenced by the most immediate consequences of this event - and these immediate consequences, the consequences for ourselves, are the opposite of what one might expect - not at all sad and gloomy, but much more like a new and barely describable type of light, happiness, relief, amusement, encouragement, dawn . . . Indeed, at hearing the news that 'the old god is dead', we philosophers and 'free spirits' feel illuminated by a new dawn; our heart overflows with gratitude, amazement, forebodings, expectation - finally the horizon seems clear again, even if not bright; finally our ships may set out again, set out to face any danger; every daring of the lover of knowledge is allowed again; the sea, our sea, lies open again; maybe there has never been such an 'open sea'." [JW, 343]
Au burn Autumn, Awe-burnt fatum, was Brun-o at bottom, the "brown one", burning to fathom, burnt for his datum - the Plotinian chasm of a "Frenzied" Adam…
The heretical Church's civil war, with its own prodigi-ous devil war -
"Aww Burn!"
Spinoza and Bruno and the many strayed-afar - all burned... yet martyrs spring even more, from the marred, and all spurned...
For the premise never died, whether pro-mises or prim-roses, messianic or satanic, the idea made too tied...
"She is rising as a phoenix On a psychedlic helix Yeah, yeah she's the one, the whore of Heaven…" [Inkubus Sukkubus]
The Church ever re-born from the Ashes of time, to reign...
Sin-ders
said Derrida, rename the Trace that remains, the elusive Grace of that "Forever" domain, in the all-burning Holocaust, that self-proclaims itself in the Other unslain...
Life feeds on life... Hashes of grime is the Trace of the crime, he said;
but we said; while the logic is fine, only here, did humanity make an industry of it, a dollar, a dime; a value for their value, is marvelously slime, eating off of oneself is a tumorous sign...
"That redemption of all values" become industrious, an enter-Pricing mine, is now "The revaluation of all values"; the Buying of time…
"We are ALL PRICE-LESS", is the creed of greed...
Ham-burger stalls, and insta-grams, so much Pro-teen, the Hamster crams, but no Scram-bled eggs here, or flap-jack and jams - Maple Au burn; Hamster Scram!
D(r)e-construction traced; in The Church re-Traced... yet, one more among the clones of the same loans ablaze!...
"What is a word for consuming itself all the way to its support to the point of assimilating it without apparent remainder?" Buried in that parenthesis (and several other places) is an allusion to Mission Impossible: this tape will self-destruct in 5 seconds..." [Derrida]
Aww Burn!!
The paradox of language;
""This (then) will not have been a book..." Not a book, but a cinder. On cinders (aflame), this cinder burns up a nothing that is and is not in (not) being a cinder. Derrida traces the cinder, the burning trace, to no end."…
And we call what can be traced to no end,
"High Hopes!"
For every martyr, a heretic, for every heretic, a demotic, martyr after martyr for the same hieratic...
Still, this Church is no phoenix, but a dialectic- remix…
Aw Shit! No aesthetics. -
Though "burning love" be the tactics; Heroic Frenzies of the Frantics...
"There is nothing that should alarm us. For this unity is sole and stable and remains for ever. This oneness is eternal. Every aspect, every face, everything else is vanity, is as nothing - nay, all that is outside of this One is nothing. "Time takes all, and gives all; everything changes but nothing vanishes; only one thing cannot change, is eternal, and will be forever one, changelessly itself." [Bruno, De la causa/Il candelaio]
But at least, that Brown one had the Highs to see self-blindness as a brew-se from the Muse, her lesions in the soul, of rage, dis-ease and blues; where are the warning Sirens in the All-Spruce only, Truce?
For these smogers know of only acid-rain and "cease-fire", how to smoke and burn to Sin-ders, ashes on pyre;
But Hestias keep the flame, a (b)right empyre, through the embers of time, unbroken in Spire...
And The Nine Lys-ions, Dire?
"The first lover, who is blind from birth, is blind because of the nature which debases and humiliates him.
The second lover, blinded by the poison of jealousy, is blind because of the irascible and concupiscible which diverts and misleads him.
The third, blinded by the sudden appearance of intense light, is blind because of the brilliance of the object which dazzles him.
The fourth, received and nourished for a long time in the light of the sun, is blind because of much lofty contemplation of the unity which removes him from the multitude.
The fifth, whose eyes are forever filled with dense tears, is blind owing to the disproportion of means between the potency and the object which impedes him.
The sixth, who through much weeping has extinguished the organic visual humour, is blind because of a lack of the true intellectual nourishment, a lack which weakens him.
The seventh whose eyes are reduced to ashes by the ardor of his heart, symbolizes the burning passion which disperses, weakens, and sometimes devours the power of discernment.
The eighth, blinded by the wound of an arrow's point, is blind through the very act of union with the form of the object that conquers, alters, and seduces the apprehensive potency, which is oppressed by the weight of the form and falls under the impetus of its presence; therefore, not without reason is the appearance of this object sometimes represented in the form of a penetrating thunderbolt.
The ninth, because he is mute and is unable to explain the cause of his blindness, is blind for the highest reason, the secret design of God, who has given man this zeal and solicitude to search, so that he may never be able to reach higher than to the knowledge of his own blindness and ignorance, and no higher than to deem silence more worthy than speech. But this does not suggest that common ignorance is to be excused or favored, for he is doubly blind who does not see his own blindness." [H.F.]
Aww Burn!
Trucers are hypo+crites,
"under-crisis"
"hypo- "under" + krinein "to sift, decide" (crisis). The sense evolution in Attic Greek is from "separate gradually" to "answer" to "answer a fellow actor on stage" to "play a part.""
Actors of the sacred Thea-tre were meant to separate emotions, a means of catharsis, to arouse to purify, make clear the emotions, make them surface and integrate them into a clear, glittering consciousness…, a be-holding of oneself in concreteness... pools of eyes become clear, one could glimpse a world in their eyes, sublimeness…
While the Greeks had Theatre,
The Romans had Sew-ages for the same reason…
Rats!
Spread a plague of emotions...
"All that is just and unjust is all good…" - Too much creativity can tend to idolize even garbage! Sin-ge shit into sculptures and of rotten cabbage!...
Hambones ditch emotions, while anti-Depress-ants have replaced the Actors portion - Those that now raise some motions - "Its all cool…" as the only notion...
Aww Burn!
This is the High-po-Cracy or the Rule of the Hypocrites, and the plastic; who write elegies on the magnificence of Greece and the classics, but not the conditions that made them possible??, fantastic!
Slavery?
Sacrifice?
Status/hierarchy?
Standards?
How hypo-critical is it to preach "no one shall impose upon another their valuing",, while also teach, "any being's indisputably best way to be is the mode in which it values the most"?
What this amounts to is a self-valuing that is EN-FORCED, IMPOSED, by a HIPO-CRATIC Ain-sophy, to be CONTENT to develop itself like a good cuck, real-ize itself only within the space that its valuing doesn't spill-over?? What a lobby!
The best mode to be is, "I dont hurt you, you dont hurt me; I mind my borders, and you mind yours, let us both not grow, "curt me"?
A Fraternity of (butt-)Head-nodders...
A Band(itry) of Xt. borders ?
Of the Commandment, "Thou shalt not Trespass", An-Ark-ist guarders?
Rome would be no Imperium aeternitas, eternal city, if it did not first plan the most strategic waste-disposal systems, and sewers plenty…
To be Roman, first means sane-itization; A secure lid for those "ditch-wholes" an-ark-izations...
"THE ACRID scents of autumn, Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn And the snore of the night in my ear.
For suddenly, flush-fallen, All my life, in a rush Of shedding away, has left me Naked, exposed on the bush.
I, on the bush of the globe, Like a newly-naked berry, shrink Disclosed: but I also am prowling As well in the scents that slink
Abroad: I in this naked berry Of flesh that stands dismayed on the bush; And I in the stealthy, brindled odours Prowling about the lush
And acrid night of autumn; My soul, along with the rout, Rank and treacherous, prowling, Disseminated out.
For the night, with a great breath intaken, Has taken my spirit outside Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness, Like a man who has died.
At the same time I stand exposed Here on the bush of the globe, A newly-naked berry of flesh For the stars to probe." [Lawrence, Amors]
Elfis [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] singing swan-songs,
carmen sickni;
"(carmen cygni) is a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement. The phrase refers to an ancient belief that swans (Cygnus spp.) sing a beautiful song in the moment just before death, having been silent (or alternatively, not so musical) during most of their lifetime…"
Which Sau-wee,
S(l)ykly, not so pretty-ily, "inter-prets"… [PIE *per- "to traffic in, sell, related to pornography - "to write a price"; prostitute, demis"]
who sings the last song of this cycle, against time,
becoming the first hero of the new cycle, in time,
the anti-christ of this cycle is passed off as the christ of the next cycle, all is a relativism, Neros are Neos, Zeroes are Heros, when it is One life spinning, the Prime mover always winning,
everything is a mask, and the Dionysos beneath is Theseus in the masque, and Theseus is the Beast, and everything underneath is simply the task…
I agree;
the piper too shall be the prince in some life-cycle, and the mob too shall be kings in some half-circle, no, no, they already are!
I agree;
It was already in the fables, how the hooded-King moved in guise as one with his subjects, to supervise his kingdom; In the fabled democracy, he was them, and they were he... Just too as Christ descended as man among the men, in the trans-substantial symptom, as long as they were believers, lepers and sinners were truly the free...
the last man and the bum of this cycle is in "truth", in "satya" the first man and the plum ass-et of the next cycle; the [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] is "mithya"...
then maybe,
Judgements of good and bad, are all, always good no matter Cain or Abel, or, Indra or Michael, Value-judgments are simply Lila, so philo-so-fickle! All spooks and crooks are just expressions in the indefinite deferment of the same élan-vital…
"I am Caesar" is really a hood winking "I am Christ" in another battle, the rebel and the rabble are musical-chairs in the great raffle, what's to baffle?...
But, the comfort of such an anal-retention of an "evanescent happiness", is a syk shackle, piled over years as all-affirmation and amor fati and hamsterdamed down till the ankle, "One needn't go anywhere and still be all" Prime-mover cackle, "I feel that I justify the whole state of the world and all of history" - to cite a wee hackle…
"We already are the glory that we shall be"…
And said A-Lys, through the looking glass of Tweedledum and Tweedledee;
"Tweedledum and Tweedledee Agreed to have a battle; For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. Just then flew down a monstrous crow, As black as a tar-barrel; Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel…"
"During the 2000 United States presidential election, candidate Ralph Nader pointed out that George W. Bush and Al Gore were not very different in their corporate policies, and called them Tweedledum and Tweedledee."
Such uncanny doubles should not be surprising, given Zeus the Swan, with Leda, gave the Gemini up-rising… Pastor and Bollox horsing around, in my surmising…
All is (h)Oli is no oli-garchy of the few and the V(wee);
but we call such a syckness of the less a Bull-imia, a spiritual dis-Order and a mess!
"Expel the Hamster" are also such regurgitations, an "eating of more than one can swallow" undigestible agitations, Stuffing much, but nothing much, except loud palpitations, "I stuff up and I puff up - I am all of history, so Give me respect!" air-Ventilations…
It is the playg of values so stuffed up - the reason the sygnus has to be mute for a long time, before it can cough up, its last song, "Trea-sure me", and then throw up… "All is one in the close-up"…
We call Elfis superstar so-wee for that (t)reason, Imp-erator;
"from impian "to graft," from Late Latin impotus "implanted," from Greek emphytos; The current meaning "little devil" (666) is attested from 1580s, from common pejorative phrases such as imp of Satan."
""To Graft" is a form of political corruption, being the unscrupulous use of a politician's authority for personal gain. The [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] has its origins in the medical procedure whereby tissue is removed from one location and attached to another for which it was not originally intended. Similarly, political graft occurs when funds intended for public projects are intentionally misdirected in order to maximize the benefits to private interests."
Trans-porters Graft the last man of this age, as the first man of the next… They roll joints… into a cig-ness, before writing their last song called affirmation as pretext; we call that de-Vice of the elf - of the albi, an Alibi…
Those Pirates who stand at the edge of the world, at the threshold of an aeon, are ambivalent and polyvalent, are dragon and criminal and hero with a thousand masks, a thousand names, these face-changers, these phase-changers, not because life is one and (h)Oli, a single thread spinning, or, exits and entrances of the gateways remain the same, that Bruno could say, "By birth and growth the spirit-architect expands into this mass of which we consist, spreading outwards from the heart. Thither again it withdraws, winding up the threads of its web, retiring by the same path along which it advanced, passing out by the same gate through which it entered…" ['De Minima']
but because they make it so these sun-spiders, these Diamond-Edges the Blonde-Beasts who "Hammer out" 'circuits'… StructurAls of synaptic ambits…
The belief in belief in belief… attains to a density; consistent repetitions attain to a thickness, not truth necessarily… The Big Lie is an Alibi...
Escaping judgement has never been easier for these Imp-erators, sowilo; the sun in eclipse, clips, from ekleipein "to forsake a usual place"… clips, truncates, abridges, con-denses, cuts-short, the world itself…
Ab-breviation, to make small, to make short, to make it so wee, so twee, so little... so imp-ish, so elfish, is the path of least resistance, also called a short-cut…
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] the Nyde lacking Pride, which gives Man his Stride, playG-arises another's Standard-guide, Arya and White, and maketh of it, its own grammar Wide…,
We laugh at this, for we have always set the lead, to which they wrote their lied, our treasure is for all and none, an uncanny greed… Wagner, Abendstern lied, what a cygnus piece!
But we are bigger than all that…
We Dwarves!
We believe in Bee-lines… The straightest route, the most direct route to the heart of things, is not always a short-cut, but a long, severe, and a Form-idable straight-cut!
"We Eagles dive straight…"
We of the Dwarf-planet, Pluto, that morphs across all ranges of brown, and blue and green and and grey and hazel, as the ceaselessly changing eye-colours and forms of those under its crown, dazzle… that which appears small - we dwarfed ones, also "know", of bee-lines,
No sowilos here, but Vamanas, Fa-Mannaz, the [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] First Form of Man, was the bedazzler who conquered the zenith of the Three worlds in Three steps, in a Bee-line… not a short-cut, but a straight-cut, 0/100;
A Sig-cut @ 1:25 make emergent, Synapses...
And so we also speak of Vi-Manas and of [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] "measuring out, traversing" or "having been measured out" Regals, *reg- "move in a straight line" Legals, "Latin lignum "fire-wood" literally "that which is gathered" in fasci-nating bundles...
We of the Tri-pod, the 3 steps, Exact things; We Tocsins and Sirens of the true swan-song; The Si(e)g-nals before death - the Valkyrie's night-song…
This signum of the cygnum, is the most selective sign, 'the choosers of the slain', as Va-Mana of the valiant Bali, is why great personages are called "Prime Swans", "The Swans-Gone Beyond", "paramaHAMsas", [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] discern milk from water, good from bad…
The setting and rising of the sun as the inhalation (HAM) and exhalation (sa) of the world, is the swan-song of the "Most Awakened"... Thus those obsessed who "keep watch" are called Van-guards, the pioneers who go a-head, the Fylgja, is thus the Auspici-ous mind, Manas; runic Mannaz… The Fore-most Man, the Selecting Man;
we Transform, but do not Transplant; We do no Graft;
We are no Oliver Twist-ers Nor are we Grifters, also called of such non-violent criminals, "confidence-tricksters"…
We call this last veil of the sygnus, so-W-A-ILL-o - Twee-pop… a [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] of sweet, Greek Hedys - 'Hedonist', with the halo, on the top...
Butt-ering Our Toast with o-Leo, is also called Influence... a joint-session port-folio - with constituents, of a high confluence…
We are no sygnus superstars, singing our revolting death song, ringing the "Voluntary Free Determinism" syk gong; but we are Highly super-stitious,
A back-burner refers to a state of reduced priority, one hangs in there period;
A state of suspension become a cold-storage…
A cold limb-o... and broker-age...
This calls for a constant head-job, for vigorous trips, in the head, in the world, get the blood rushing… moving about, to attain the sense of feeling, one, has gone and Is going somewhere about…
Ham-Hogging and food porn become the stand-in for buying the world up, The climax as the capstone to keep the score and the brand up;
An extra-ordinary number of selfies become important to convince others to convince oneself of this index of virility, against accusations and smears of intellectual sterility;
The Golden Eye that controls all the sluts, because in this world, it only ever could be of use to sluts, and so sluts were all that ever came to it, if but...
Like those pussies giving blow-jobs upfront, tonguing squirts of esteem to bear the brunt, only to back-scratch for the expected grunt, money-making and the typical junk...
A coy tease and injecting value of the Midas' expertise and striking Pal-you; stroking the secret confidence of its man-Hood - reducing the world to pussies and slutwood, and to the extent it does so with its gold finger, its cold finger… is the extent one finds it 'charming' and 'confident'; the auras linger...
Pimps and sluts, are the world of demis, and all that exists for a cheap simulation, when obedience today can be elicited only out of sluts, auto-manipulation, absent Big Brothers that show 'how its done' have slowly disappeared, leaving imitation, and pimps and "instructors" and escort "guides", and those easily bought off with flat adulation...
We call such gift-trades 'the girlfriend experience';
"The girlfriend experience (GFE) is a commercial experience that blurs the boundaries between a financial transaction and a romantic relationship. Within the sex industry, GFE is a common term for a sexual encounter in which both the escort and the client are willing to engage in reciprocal sexual pleasure and some degree of emotional intimacy. The "girlfriend experience" generally involves more personal interaction than a traditional call girl or escort offers. There is a focus on not just having sex, but also having more of a comprehensive experience. Within this particular realm of sex work, prostitutes embody a sense of authenticity in order to make the experience more pleasurable for their customer, as well as to make a more lucrative outcome for themselves. If the sex worker is male, the service is called the boyfriend experience."
The romantic that has surrendered to a world that has surrendered only to money, remains on leash in these halved-worlds of either orifice sunny and honey;
shooting off of one's mouth is clever, and shooting off of one's dick is cool endeavor…
Instructing young minds to keep it simplistic, a happy futuristic, ever more hedonistic; Rap-thugs and Drug-lords for Gurus, wikipedia and news-media to get over the morose, peanut butter and cream pies for good screws, bitches and beaches and sneak-ers and shoes for a good cruise,
while the romantic heart un-leashes itself in Philanthropy, charity, and Marri-on idealisms… and money is freedom and freedom is kicks for egoism... 50 cents is the HALF that counts in this denialism of its nihilism…
Black Lives Matter, the Underdogs matter, Israel and Palestine and Pro-Gun Laws matter, because their fight for survival is 'admirable', atleast for banter …
for, race, sex and evolution theories that are pro-procreation and survival then become the Ludi-Chris, taking the rap for it; shoved back to the Back-burner as a good trap for it, staying the eternal child and trading on whatsapp for it, too immature, one rather take some cRap for it …
'Survival Guides to life' and such sCrap involving how to teabag, and tittybang on the lap, how to perform as a performer is the High-light of the map, for hard tracts and soft zones under tap…
Between drugs and drinks, these are the kind, concerned, sweet, and the child-like dependents in search of true love and loyalty, under the garb of Kantian rationalism, randian logic, practical pragmatism and secular-humanist fealty, speculating on an anxious reality...
Smoking and Ozone-holes, mega-corps and climate hoax, mechanical bull-riders on bovine mode, whistle-blowers cutting off load; flight before fight is the favoured mood, perks before jerks is the essential goad, bar values or judgements, FTP (free-to-play) is the eternal good, gratification and to be loved is all is all that needs to be understood...
'Pot'-heads are truly mother-worshippers… Pitch-ers who love pitchers and warm court-shippers, Junk and junk food and gunk and all the drunken funk, sugars for the absent spunk makes for a reasonable punk…
And when the MENSA question goes,
There were nine fleas on a fanny. Four of them were smoking dope what were the other five doing?
A. Sniffing Crack.
it shows;
Then, 16762764728897813t474826472 is a brilliant score without a doubt, only God knows!!
Clouds gliding formlessly round and round and round,
like the love of a girl, fickle, round and round,
all the while,
the lightening whiles straighter,
unswerving like the straightened tips of her eye liner - the uninterrupted dark of the new moon, no shiner...
so straightest is the mad heart that twines around a humming that goes round and round, like a poem around a word, like a full moon unwound from its darkest quarters, and how time went by for a whole fortnight round and round a line,
becomes a lay with si(g)n-full matters,
you and you and you and you and you and you rounds her wooing heart wholesome,
and she twirls her hair round and round...
like a rose, whorls to rip itself into sense, into scents,
into soreness, to the convulsing lust of her maelstrom... seething to covet your hard ivory,
and the crescent skies enciente with the musk of the violaceous earth ancient ploughed over and over of her lava-ender...
press you on…
to the ends of the earth, you followed,
you pressed her one with the piceous bog, with the lichens in the chartreuse, to fill into her cotton-cup, your amaranthine ruse ..
where is your terror?
where, the glance that'd put everything at stake?
that love too, which has not known a hell worse than mine... a life without you...
without you without you
Under the blood moon, silence gushes in between the cedars brush her with your kiss,
a gentle breeze…
"Oh that I might capture the essence of this deep midwinter night And fold it softly into the waft of a spring-moon quilt, Then fondly uncoil it the night my beloved returns.
"I will break the back of this long, midwinter night, Folding it double, fold beneath my spring quilt, That I may draw out the night, when my love returns.
"I cut in two A long November night, and Place half under the coverlet, Sweet-scented as a spring breeze. And when he comes, I shall take it out, Unroll it inch by inch, to stretch the night…" [Hwang Chin-i]
And I rolled on, the floor, laughing my Ass off, for the mo(u)rning secretly stole away, Ye-A, IA, it stole away...
The stash of time flashing on the gold-hoarding dragon,
I corked in an earth-breathing flagon, locked in a remote little tavern, torqued in a mad mad cavern tucked among all the treasures that gladden…
And when he comes, I shall smoke it out, In between my frown, so red and ashen, like a fire-breathing [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], in a pouting face, all my passion,
and stretch it inch by inch; a smile, to roll the silver night again in all my guile, with folly-age and Photo synthetic leaves a mile…
"When Jupiter loosens, he anagrams to jeu-trip." - is a Mighty aphorism, cutting through all directions…
To beginceremoniously with a de-lightfulvictory, has also, a JO-ke...
What shall the lysis with frenzy reveal But Jupiter th' supreme pantokrator ideal With can(n)on-ade of thunder, deafening, rolls Fulgur striking down all the vulgar souls! Traversing laws with awesome oars Light-(e)ning oaths above festal groves Principal eternal, Tempest-spear, Thou Blizzard Lyz-ard, thou Maker of Kings, and their grandeur...
Europa, thy Cretan Moon, and lover, didst Thou lift Off the Phoenician land to the Occident swift, For a wider destiny in return as gift; But now the Crescent has been let adrift, And the Titans have gone, and those Cretans too, Lunacy in Athens too; Only Cretins now vaunt in vain, Offering to Jew-Piter, lie-bations bane…
Pro-Meth-eus alters the sap and fat of eternity, for fraternity; Bones for Fulmen, and boons for HuMan does the alter-ego seal the con-cealed gap that back-fires in the con-sealed gap we also call this a blow-back that [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]-Farreus sends - Pandora as trap in the confetti of [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] claps Over the mortal and immortal Snap!
To alter ego is also called 'About Face'; Pro-Meth-eus was Zeus' alter-ego… switching and thieving was the Titan, and said his echo - 'Justice is Mine', with equal grace;
Fore-runner of Religion, and Law broke philotimo, Godspeed overtook God and took over the demo, The Fast and the Furious reduced to chemo; Tablets became Maxims and Value Valuing was the hung-over memo...
Tighten Pro-Meth-eus was thus His decree, a pinch to the liver to a good degree; The culture vulture carved on it night and day, Yet the be-li(e)ver ever regrew and renewed decay… Pun-ished and torched doth he still remain, bound to the stone, for tricking Jove's domain… No Hercules with rabid fire to end the pain, How can there be, when tragic heroes under VO are maimed? Stealing thunder from Jo-Vial's rain, this Jew-piter alter-nates Under Fortune's loss and gain…
Mankind shall sink more in toil, The Iron age shall rust the soil, When Jew-Piter shall hang heavy with greed and spoil, The light of David's Hume-anity shall blot the purply royal!
King of Gods, none who've been blessed by Thee have been forsaken of thy lucky sight, to be free; emperors hold sway unobstructed in all quarters, a hearty generosity and mirth shines in all their laughters, excess spirits distinguished in their magna-nimity; Singular they stand, and yet their majesty pulls with it a resounding unanimity...
The High-minded in all things, The jewel of Parrhasia, bestows unshakeable command which Parrhesia brings,
A buoyant ease to all of history's crease, darkness scatters the famine and the fleas To a banquet with the Gods under ancient trees; When sage wafts, all the sagged and dead-weights release, And wanderers and pirates lust to the end of the seas, Firmness of trust till where the broad-azures cease, Enlightened minds t(h)rust up to the circle, the eagle weaves, The vault of vaunts is their magic standard and their golden fleece, Cloaked in good-will they befriend all the seasonal leaves; Plant and beast, and man and feast, under protection from all that cleaves, Righteous order, fair lauder under super-vision of his good daughter, and as far as her owl sees...
Supreme Resolve(r), as Danae knew, and Nietzsche too, as his Zarathustra grew, And Ger-mania too when wotan rushed, with his wild hunt, and the heil-storm blew into the hall of valour, all the warriors true…
The swell of life, and the sanguine blood, unstoppable strength of the dangerous flood, sweeping the good as well as the mud, zealous magic is the lovefull l-aw(e) in the bud…
A vital growth is a re-Jove-anation over death, Victory over saboteurs, if luck holds yet - One brewed with good thought, word, and deed devoutly set, Even unbearable wounds fall ablaze, as the rocket, into space's expanded breadth, while jaundiced comets and green gases in contact, vapourize and melt;
We call upon our luck with tripods and triple steps, zig-zag missiles through gang-ways and (a)isles, our Sol-I-Dare-ity lets, IO-[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] tinctures for Sidereal t(h)inkers, our Sol-I-taire-ity whets, And Hera-ic pig-ments imbrued with love's volcanic segments, our Salut-arity tests...
Voyagers on Discovery for the marvelous auroras of Jupiter, We are the new Vikings with stilett-daggers and on dragon boots, With mighty heart in search of sage* - the sap of wisdom, along the flag-rant and out-rage-ous sage-tarius spice-routes, Like Ragnar under Odin scores, To a New America, and off to lofty shores, The land of the brave and the free, and the new Ire-ish, No Pro-Meth-eus or Big Brothers with big sticks; only those with Honour and hod rods, and the Ehre-ish; The Luminaries and Dignitaries are the [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]Dirty do-zen of the Wild Wild West, The thirteenth follows silently and is better let in the shaded rest... We also count 1+2=3 and blow our own bridges with our Dice and Die-na-Might from our chest; Odin steals our heart and can [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] our breast, But The ludic fool does not e-lude [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] own Ludendorff to stop the crest…
And yet there is a Pi (o) near to every self-saboteur, A rain-bow of Hope, to aspire, way up and higher, across the World Wide Web, [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Iris to inspire...
Pro-Spect against the odds, un-Bolt-er of occasions, lineage exalter, the futurist; Numinous Ruminus, luminous animus amethyst; Optic-optimum trip-les options of opulence for the optimist, and so Callimachus sang of Opitulus, the increaser of favourable chances for the adventurist,
"O, from thy bright abodes, let blessings flow; Grant wealth, grant virtue to mankind below: For we with wealth, are not completely blest, And virtue fails when wealth is unpossess'd; Then grant us both; for these united prove The choicest blessing man receives from Jove"…
Sage and yellow Safire, oak, snapdragon, elephants, whales, beet, lung- and liverwort, Glad-iolas, passion-flowers, tulips, honeysuckles, coconuts, carnation, devil's claw, and chervil, Basil, jacinth, anise, ginger, nutmeg, thyme, ghee-fat, rhubarb, currants, chamomile, fennel, and mint, Prosper under His aegis gifting His power to lift above the ages...
"From little acorns, big oak trees grow", and oaks into groves, and groves into the wood which built the ships and homes and temples of the old world… To sow the seeds of broad hope beyond one's lifetime to see it fruition, our wishes carry on our form, forming others in like tradition… our philanthropy is our heads up within entropy for the opportuned contidion - the orbit of our highest volition...
Lord of the munificent thighs and the venerable feet - the Axis Power that elevates our appetitive spirit to excess feat, from beyond greed and gluttony and such wretched defeat, past lust and light to pure delight of right conduct is simply a beautiful treat of the soul's lavish gift, profuse with the fat of such generous memories, is the sweet libation we pour upto the King of Gods, Grand Master, Benevolent Steer, of the Hight-seat; We also call such marks of merit, 'winning brownie-points', and being upbeat...
Remover of Ignorance, Bull-dozing of the dense, the Har de Har against all cowardice, the Wise lambaste with laughter, cracking-up the edifice, the Scourge of retards and all that is impoverished lacking gusto and such dim artifice; The Verve in the nerve against all trumpery, trumpeting the lattitude of attitude that terrifies - the tremendous Vertigo and dizziness and lack of steadiness and loss of balance is the Nihilism that nullifies…
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb thy golden stair"...
Ra-Pun-zel in the high tower, the dizzy fall of the trick lover, the crone denying the false power, is the guarding of a drug, like a flower; the touch of the uninitiated leaves a dour, a blindness and dis-orientation, too sour…
Pro-meth-eus in a blind spot[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Storm and Fire,
"Hast thou e'er lightened the sorrows Of the heavy laden? Hast thou e'er dried up the tears Of the anguish-stricken? Didst thou e'er fancy That life I should learn to hate, And fly to deserts, Because not all My blossoming dreams grew ripe? Here sit I, forming mortals After my image; A race resembling me, To suffer, to weep, To enjoy, to be glad, And thee to scorn, As I!" [Goethe]
is a full-blown nihilism of a profane quagmire,
a Misotheism [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] haywire, We also call this going ham...
a mor-ass, not desire -
Desire is Semele looking on the direct face of the Sire,
to take on the world as much as one dared to admire
no drugs and inter-faces, just him, who took her so higher…
The match was struck and the semen raised the gyre,
Dionysos, Korone-Prince, Is, the gift of fire,
desire's excess entire,
And thus Wine alters Liver
of the Pro-meth-ean altar's Friar,
with only his Lie-bations to Jew-Piter, dire,
loose-can(n)ons for merely self-hire,
losing sequence of all what's Prior!
We believe in Audacity, not edacity, In the Naive and the Nave, not the knave, In the Right Act, not the riot act;
(b)Rightness is a Readiness without any giddiness, ready: reidh- "to ride", Dutch gereit, Old High German reiti, "ordered, arranged", Rta, righteous as rite…
Odin on Sleipnir, while Jove conducts Lightning… What is ready, rides on, and over-rides, and Top-ples and supersedes and super-seeds… Soho called this mind that stops nowhere, the Unfettered Mind…
We believe in Such Lust, O.E. lys-tan, that stops nowhere;
"Error is cowardice."
And not in greed;
"The deeply wounded have Olympian laughter; one has only what one needs to have." [Nietzsche]
We are lethal enough...
"Generous" abundance, not hunger is a Racial Prime of Jupiter, Blesser of Longevity, the Complexity-Multiplier;
Generosity: Latin genus "race, stock, kind; family, birth, descent, origin," from PIE root *gene- "to produce, give birth, beget," genius, create, bear, birth child - hope...
The Ides of March is only the ten of swords - To hope against hope in Romans iv.18 of the 'Lord's':
"Who against hope, beleeued in hope, that hee might become the father of many nations: according to that which was spoken, So shall thy seede bee."
The kick-start of the Pro-meth-ean hordes, just hot air re-boots of those Roman records...
But to make this More, than The Game of Thrones, To Soar to the Kore, and pure Kore-Expansion - is how ever, the Game of Crones;
Jungle beats and African safaris, in search of heat is necessary for some to dive,
to come alive,
rhythms, and trips to 'Take me Higher',
when lacking fire;
while some are natural born yaks, "that cannot thrive at lower altitudes, and begin to suffer from heat exhaustion above 15 °C (59 °F)"…
Ever high on the mound of Venus, the rush of pure oxygen is the Aphrodisiac for this empyrean-genus… Bold mountain climbers, hanging on peaks and edges, Route-breakers, path-makers, revealers of lost horizons, dwellers of the awe-some where, the physical and the spiritual overlap in half-worldly mists and snow-leopards - [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Beyuls of dream-like Clearness tucked away in jagged rocks, and nacreous as fresh yak butter…
"High levels of vitamin A can boost metabolism, clear-sight, and improve your defenses against respiratory infections, as well as autoimmune diseases like AIDS"…
This White gold of the land is literally a trading currency across mountain-passes, where the constant temperature of the high altitudes make butter as imperishable as gold…
Smooth Butter is Aphros, the foam of the churned sea...
Margarine - "pearly", is love itself; the sun-tan for the soul, spread and stretched broad across the horizon… soaking it all… The dirt and the grit of time and space, like women, the grit* from male embrace pro-create, tucking them [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] in ghostly secret-ions, we call our hope, our wisdom, our daimon…
Oy sters are natural aphrodisiacs to
"Oy Vey iz mir! "Oh, woe is me!" of the Yiddish when they are dizzy and giddyish…
Nietzsche wrote:
"We only speak about being sick of men when we can no longer digest them, and yet have the stomach full of them. Misanthropy is the result of a far too eager philanthropy and "cannibalism," but who ever bade you swallow men like oysters, my Prince HAM-let?" [JW, 167]
Woody Allen wrote:
"I will not eat oysters. I want my food dead. Not sick, not wounded, dead."
David Hillman wrote:
The Inward Man: Hamlet
Why, of all possible foods, did Nietzsche imagine these particular creatures as Hamlet’s objects of ‘greedy love’? Is it because of something about the way we tend to eat these shellfish — slurping out their entrails with a certain greedy intensity so that the eater himself begins to seem like one of those ‘sucking […] monsters’ that Nietzsche elsewhere describes entrails themselves as being? There are no oysters in Hamlet — though in the play’s prehistory we find Thomas Lodge’s allusion to the so-called Ur-Hamlet, in which the ghost ‘cried so miserably at the Theatre, like an oyster-wife, Hamlet, revenge’. The oyster-wife’s dubious reputation — like that of the ‘fishmonger’ (2.2.174) for whom Hamlet pretends to mistake Polonius — is connected with issues of both class (Richard II refers disparagingly to Bolingbroke’s doffing his bonnet to an ‘oyster-wench’) and sexuality. Oysters are associated in various ways — in the Renaissance and since — with sex: they are notorious aphrodisiacs; their shape and texture are erotically suggestive; they can connote a provocative mixture of desire and disgust (perhaps we can say: oysters can make desire seem disgusting and disgust appear desirable). All these have no small relevance to Hamlet; but the thing about oysters that is most likely to have caught Nietzsche’s imagination is the basic structure of the creature, with its hard external covering protecting its soft interior; to get at the meat one must pry open or break the shell and scoop out the insides."
"The popular expression, "lazy as an oyster", probably comes pretty near to the human quality which the oyster represents. In excess we call it “laziness”; in moderation it may be a good enjoyment in repose.
When undisturbed, an oyster is certainly a picture of repose itself. It has no power to change its place, and not the slightest desire to do so. Its shell stands partly open, held by the elasticity of its hinge. The water which brings air to its gills and particles of food to its stomach is indeed helped in its circulation by ciliary motions, of which the animal probably is entirely unconscious, and by slight movements of its mantle.
The shell is to an oyster the most important thing in the world. It is home, protection, and opportunity for repose. The one great muscle which an oyster has is the muscle which closes the shell. This corresponds to a desire to prevent intrusion; and the shell itself to the laws and facts which justify rest and seclusion. It is easy to see in all this a description of some morbid states of mind—when the love of seclusion is excessive—and of some healthful states.
But there is a deeper and nobler meaning, at least to some oysters, than this. Pearls are found in oysters; and they are made of the substance of the inner shell. When a grain of sand or other hard substance is intruded within the shell, and the animal is unable to expel it, a secretion of shelly substance is deposited upon it, which at least shuts it out from irritating contact with the sensitive animal. And this deposit, which grows by successive layers, is the pearl. From the point of view of the living animal, the surface of the pearl is the inside, and the intrusive material is shut out.
Swedenborg calls the gates of pearl “introductory truths”; but the truths which introduce into the streets of the Holy City are truths which separate evil from good, and open the way to good life at the same time that they shut out the evil. So the pearls of our city of life are the truths we have lived which forbid evils as sins; which truths are lovely walls of protection to the good life within. The one pearl of great price, for which the merchant sold all that he had, and to which the kingdom of heaven is likened, is the knowledge of salvation by the Lord, through His commandments.
The enjoyment of such protection and of the repose which it brings—not in the peacefulness of the interior mind, but the restfulness of the external mind, next the body—is an oyster in its best sense."
"An oyster is something unique because it can transform a grain of sand into a pearl.
The dream pays attention of the dreamer, it wants to show him how he can transform something disturbing into something beautiful. The oyster as a sexual symbol and as a symbol of fertility is known at all times and all peoples.
An oyster symbolizes spiritual transformation. It is possible to transform negative qualities instead of extinguishing them."
Oysters are the deadly force of Venus, they tame the dirt down; They are Circes turning goo and grime and swine into iridescent pearls, these soothers of irritants and back-scratchers and prickly heat,
as the fable of Jack the Dreamer and the Saving Sorceress goes...
Nietzsche wrote:
"In this sense the Dionysian man resembles Hamlet: both have once looked truly into the essence of things, they have gained knowledge, and nausea inhibits action; for their action could not change anything in the eternal nature of things; they feel it to be ridiculous or humiliating that they should be asked to set right a world that is out of joint. Knowledge kills action; action requires the veils of illusion: that is the doctrine of Hamlet, not that cheap wisdom of Jack the Dreamer who reflects too much and, as it were, from an excess of possibilities does not get around to action. Not reflection, no--true knowledge, an insight into the horrible truth, outweighs any motive for action, both in Hamlet and in the Dionysian man.
Now no comfort avails any more; longing transcends a world after death, even the gods; existence is negated along with its glittering reflection in the gods or in an immortal beyond. Conscious of the truth he has once seen, man now sees everywhere only the horror or absurdity of existence; now he understands what is symbolic in Ophelia's fate; now he understands the wisdom of the sylvan god, Silenus: he is nauseated.
Here, when the danger to his will is greatest, art approaches as a saving sorceress, expert at healing. She alone knows how to turn these nauseous thoughts about the horror or absurdity of existence into notions with which one can live: these are the sublime as the artistic taming of the horrible, and the comic as the artistic discharge of the nausea of absurdity. The satyr chorus of the dithyramb is the saving deed of Greek art; faced with the intermediary world of these Dionysian companions, the feelings described here exhausted themselves." [BOT/COW]
Afro-dizzy-yaks of Jack the Dreamer reflecting on endless possibilities is not the Stimulus to action; cannot be the Incitation to Valuing life; such Afro-Dizzy-acs are merely Excitations…
The surge and sting and spin and spur to life, is the Aphrodisi-Yak of the Pythoness, The Peitho-ness of one who Mounts High on the Tripod, peering into the precipice of the end of the world, "She alone knows how to Turn" irritants and the nau-sea of the goo of space and time into pearls of love and laughter… Out-breeding over death as fertile as the opalescent moon - the self-ressurecting easter bun-ny, one always pulled out of black hats in magic acts... The great biliousness and home-sickness and see-sickness of satyrs, into pearls of wisdom and wise-cracks:
Afro-disiYak, the Black Pearl, the ghost-ship that surfaced up from the World's End in Pirates of the Carribean, was originally named the Wicked Wench...
"The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem." [Jack Sparrow]
Savvy?
They call us the Haters, for challenging the New Occupy Movement of Sauwee the Messiah… and his desecration of this temple of Apollo, to spread the Passion of Christ;
Shall we have sat all wyld, saying at the flat-earthers, 'aw shucks, you dont say'…
No; we make pearls out of their goo and grime, and pearls out of their crime in rhyme, and earls out of Time with mime… We are liege 'n' alle-Giant ...
Now they call us Cancer too;
But this in deed, we are…
Our cancer is benign; Our lust-full passion agi-tates a dead man's chest with the crabs of emotion going, our aphrodisiyak is the Itch of life that releases black pearls and sunken ships, all rowing; like a Revenant from the quick-sands of time and grime, all moving...
We only believe in such Circe-it-ry, that kindles the Heart of living in the Art of living…, "the one from Cy-prus, who arouses sweet desire for gods"; No value-oncology or its Sigh-cology of "turn-ons" and afro-dizzy-acs…
We affirm the dimples of Venus on the cheek, of the marks of cupid, and such beauty to seek; not the pimp-les and the paroxysms of the meek, nor the Cold War of the weak...
To Nietzsche at the peak,
a great Pirate, like Jack Sparrow, no jack-the-dreamer, walking the tight-rope and hanging around the ledge and the edge and the hedge of things; the great aphrodisiyak to Rare and Wicked spirits, and the genie in the bottle of all self-reverent springs…
a friend of satyrs and witches, and a fiend of martyrs and snitches,
Blessed with pearls of widom under deathless Aphrodite - the baiter with taunts and abater of torments…
"She [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] granted his being distinguished, Made the genealogy that came after him become a flourishing one, And made him see the light of the sun, blessed [olbios] in the midst of the people"…,
