.* .* .* .* .* .*

Conclusion : if you make a mistake with a wildcard the consequences are serious.

dark times

anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate...but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among to ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real surviver.

-franz kafka diaries entry of october 19 1921

whores and policticians

Beware of those who look like a whore and think like a politician

snakes

You seek for knowledge and wisdom as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been.
Mary Shelly Frankenstein 1818

did you ever..

did you ever attempt to drown you sorrows but the sorrows learnt to swim

Black eyed susan's

Black-eyed Susans are considered beautiful plants and many people include them in their gardens. They are also help attract butterflies. Sometimes they crowd out other plants and need to be controlled.

curse of dialect: or is it just stylish i was asked by a strange woman possessed

Allusive and elusive lexico-grammar, is where we almost encounter one conceptual word after another. I'm interested in making the subject matter of text hard to understand immediately by a kelpy montage of words, which raises the stakes in terms of what it means to be participant and reader, in this technique which disorientates the reader. This questions the structure that governs our society. What would a society look like that wasn't governed by such deeply embeded christian myths, how is it possible to live in our society ruled by fear?

curse of dialect: or is it just stylish i was asked by a strange woman possessed

Allusive and elusive lexico-grammar, is where we almost encounter one conceptual word after another. I'm interested in making the subject matter of text hard to understand immediately by a kelpy montage of words, which raises the stakes in terms of what it means to be participant and reader, in this technique which disorientates the reader. This questions the structure that governs our society. What would a society look like that wasn't governed by such deeply embeded christian myths, how is it possible to live in our society ruled by fear?

curse of dialect: or is it just stylish i was asked by a strange woman possessed

Allusive and elusive lexico-grammar, is where we almost encounter one conceptual word after another. I'm interested in making the subject matter of text hard to understand immediately by a kelpy montage of words, which raises the stakes in terms of what it means to be participant and reader, in this technique which disorientates the reader. This questions the structure that governs our society. What would a society look like that wasn't governed by such deeply embeded christian myths, how is it possible to live in our society ruled by fear?

special scratches

as usual i dont know if i am coming or going always living of those precious signs in the street while i am walking along this risky, fun and desperate extreme road fish-tailing being a black cat and stuff. so yes i love sailing and kelpy water.


what i write feels stoney
tragedy tragedy heartbreak
a faith
a shinning sunny moment
an understanding with you
i dont think you are important
you are such a special scratch on my mind
it seems important to be frivolous about you
i sense you love attention and hate it
charge your glass to neve

wisdom confirmed

-all wise people are religious but they are wise enough not to put their religion into words -

making memory

I am making souvenirs. I am making memory because that is what I know, that is what I learned to know about, that is hopefully an expression of my true feeling. To tell my story. How I know the weakness of these concepts.
- Robert Frank, 1985.

the language of the dead

The lonely grand lady who lived in the forest up the hill finally found an
excuse to call someone. She had spend almost 2 years alone on her farm
with just her cats, cows and radio to keep her company. But now the
earthquake had been she would have to return to communicate with the rest
of the locals. The repair man, a specialist in brick work could not
really deny her request when she called since she was in danger, but he
was reluctant and said it would take some time - maybe a week before he
could pass by. This was not only because he was booked with orders but he
was a bit intimidated by the tales of this mysterious woman, not to
mention the full moon was in Scorpio.

----
The woman felt so desperate and helpless not being able to repair her own
house alone. She began to think about her husband who had passed away. As
she stared into the small fire burning in the lounge, tears rolled down
her face, she wished to God he would return to life. She never thought she
would end like this, so helpless and destitute. Her children left for the
metropolis and never visiting. What did I do so horrible to deserve this
miserable situation she mused?

----------

That night he had a dream about the woman and a crow. While he having
breakfast with his new wife he remembered fragments of it and told her
about it. She said that it to be some kind of omen and he should follow up
the call. With the wishes of his wife, he decided to pay the older woman a
visit inorder to assess exactly what work needs to be done. Driving up the
hill his mind began to drift off into flights of fantasy, maybe in some
karmic way this would lead to some kind of return, a prolongation of his
life, an augmentation of his reward for his good qualities and deeds, who
knows!

On arrival he notice how the old Victorian house was very old and run
down, a draughty monster indeed, he mused, I am surprised this place has
not been condemned. Approaching the door, he smelt strange but inviting
aromas as he knocked.
=---

She heard a knock at the door. 'How unexpected', she thought as she opened
it to the repair man. She saw a rush of shock stream across the man's face
as she caught the first glimpse of him.
-----
She was a very beautiful lady with black hair that glistened with green
shimmers in the light like the wings of a crow. Her eyes were as blue as a
turquoise sea. She was the daughter of one of the biggest Mafia Syndicates
in Italy. She had a career as a cabaret dancer until she met her husband a
professor of ancient history in Monaco. The next day she left to life with
him fleeing her former life that was full of social injustice, pathetic
materialistic priorities and corruption. Her family denounced her for
choosing such a partner, who would not help their social status on the
ladder of new money society, but she had never looked back. Cultural
capital was far more satisfying and stable.
---------------

She greeted the builder and asked him to look around the mess and make an
estimate of what kind of damage there was.

She continued to meditate in her room full of Colombian Shamanic rugs and
was interrupted when he returned and stood in the door way. She sat there
motionless and just when he was about to leave thinking this woman might
be catatonic

She invited him for a glass of wine. They sat there in-front of her fire.
She noticed him struggling with assessing the building. It was as if he
were a schoolboy so perfectly beautiful and sweet-voiced and she the
teacher, in accordance with human nature, conceived such an affection
towards him.

She spoke reflecting on the unexpected earthquake, 'Life is in the keeping
of a single breath and the world is an existence between two
annihilations'.

----
They sat together in silence, by the warmth and after a while the began
reflecting upon the horror that had effected their small town. Together
they intoxicated themselves with the wine over these sentiments and
stories of the town. Nearing the end of the bottle holding the remnants in
the cup in his hand, he watched the last turn of the wine circulating
around in the cup this rhythm made such an impression upon him it was as
if he was hypnotised, the wine spilled and the goblet broke. There he
plunged into a sleep of drunkenness, unaware of the present realm of
existence.

--
She watched him sleeping by the fire and wondered about his gold-ring on
his left hand. 'He must be happily married and his wife will be waiting at
home with dinner I can imagine' she thought.
But she didn't wake him since he looked so peaceful. As she stared at
this unusual scene, she began to reflect upon her past loneliness. On the
time which had elapsed, she began repenting of the life she had squandered
in the stony mansion of her heart with adamantine tears. She began to
think of strange sequences which seemed to her patterns of logic ;
'a disciple without intention is a lover without money; a traveller
without knowledge is a bird without wings; a scholar without practice is a
tree without fruit, and a devotee without science is a house without a
door. Death can take his body but not my husbands heart. When his spirit
left the world mine also went with him. Since then I've been mouthing
platitudes, the language of the dead. In this life I am just desperate
and despairing'.


At that very moment the wind blew through the holes in the bricks created
by the earthquake's destruction. It was as if a strong current of faith
washed over her. She will meet her husband again, not now but in the next
life. With the builder still passed out from the wine. She picked up one
of the broken shards from the cup and in the most elegant manner cut
open her wrists and began to walk outside.

As if in a trance she followed the direction of the moon light, the blood
was flowing thick out from her veins. Her cow began to moo, the cat was
crying loud but did not interrupt her possession by the light. Then she
collapsed at the base of a very old tree, the trunk must have been about 5
meters wide here in one of the crevasses she was cradled by this wise old
growth tree where she elegantly met her death.

The lonely grand lady who lived in the forest up the hill finally found an
excuse to call someone. She had spend almost 2 years alone on her farm
with just her cats, cows and radio to keep her company. But now the
earthquake had been she would have to return to communicate with the rest
of the locals. The repair man, a specialist in brick work could not
really deny her request when she called since she was in danger, but he
was reluctant and said it would take some time - maybe a week before he
could pass by. This was not only because he was booked with orders but he
was a bit intimidated by the tales of this mysterious woman, not to
mention the full moon was in Scorpio.

----
The woman felt so desperate and helpless not being able to repair her own
house alone. She began to think about her husband who had passed away. As
she stared into the small fire burning in the lounge, tears rolled down
her face, she wished to God he would return to life. She never thought she
would end like this, so helpless and destitute. Her children left for the
metropolis and never visiting. What did I do so horrible to deserve this
miserable situation she mused?

----------

That night he had a dream about the woman and a crow. While he having
breakfast with his new wife he remembered fragments of it and told her
about it. She said that it to be some kind of omen and he should follow up
the call. With the wishes of his wife, he decided to pay the older woman a
visit inorder to assess exactly what work needs to be done. Driving up the
hill his mind began to drift off into flights of fantasy, maybe in some
karmic way this would lead to some kind of return, a prolongation of his
life, an augmentation of his reward for his good qualities and deeds, who
knows!

On arrival he notice how the old Victorian house was very old and run
down, a draughty monster indeed, he mused, I am surprised this place has
not been condemned. Approaching the door, he smelt strange but inviting
aromas as he knocked.
=---

She heard a knock at the door. 'How unexpected', she thought as she opened
it to the repair man. She saw a rush of shock stream across the man's face
as she caught the first glimpse of him.
-----
She was a very beautiful lady with black hair that glistened with green
shimmers in the light like the wings of a crow. Her eyes were as blue as a
turquoise sea. She was the daughter of one of the biggest Mafia Syndicates
in Italy. She had a career as a cabaret dancer until she met her husband a
professor of ancient history in Monaco. The next day she left to life with
him fleeing her former life that was full of social injustice, pathetic
materialistic priorities and corruption. Her family denounced her for
choosing such a partner, who would not help their social status on the
ladder of new money society, but she had never looked back. Cultural
capital was far more satisfying and stable.
---------------

She greeted the builder and asked him to look around the mess and make an
estimate of what kind of damage there was.

She continued to meditate in her room full of Colombian Shamanic rugs and
was interrupted when he returned and stood in the door way. She sat there
motionless and just when he was about to leave thinking this woman might
be catatonic

She invited him for a glass of wine. They sat there in-front of her fire.
She noticed him struggling with assessing the building. It was as if he
were a schoolboy so perfectly beautiful and sweet-voiced and she the
teacher, in accordance with human nature, conceived such an affection
towards him.

She spoke reflecting on the unexpected earthquake, 'Life is in the keeping
of a single breath and the world is an existence between two
annihilations'.

----
They sat together in silence, by the warmth and after a while the began
reflecting upon the horror that had effected their small town. Together
they intoxicated themselves with the wine over these sentiments and
stories of the town. Nearing the end of the bottle holding the remnants in
the cup in his hand, he watched the last turn of the wine circulating
around in the cup this rhythm made such an impression upon him it was as
if he was hypnotised, the wine spilled and the goblet broke. There he
plunged into a sleep of drunkenness, unaware of the present realm of
existence.

--
She watched him sleeping by the fire and wondered about his gold-ring on
his left hand. 'He must be happily married and his wife will be waiting at
home with dinner I can imagine' she thought.
But she didn't wake him since he looked so peaceful. As she stared at
this unusual scene, she began to reflect upon her past loneliness. On the
time which had elapsed, she began repenting of the life she had squandered
in the stony mansion of her heart with adamantine tears. She began to
think of strange sequences which seemed to her patterns of logic ;
'a disciple without intention is a lover without money; a traveller
without knowledge is a bird without wings; a scholar without practice is a
tree without fruit, and a devotee without science is a house without a
door. Death can take his body but not my husbands heart. When his spirit
left the world mine also went with him. Since then I've been mouthing
platitudes, the language of the dead. In this life I am just desperate
and despairing'.


At that very moment the wind blew through the holes in the bricks created
by the earthquake's destruction. It was as if a strong current of faith
washed over her. She will meet her husband again, not now but in the next
life. With the builder still passed out from the wine. She picked up one
of the broken shards from the cup and in the most elegant manner cut
open her wrists and began to walk outside.

As if in a trance she followed the direction of the moon light, the blood
was flowing thick out from her veins. Her cow began to moo, the cat was
crying loud but did not interrupt her possession by the light. Then she
collapsed at the base of a very old tree, the trunk must have been about 5
meters wide here in one of the crevasses she was cradled by this wise old
growth tree where she elegantly met her death.

deciet continues

deciet continues from all angels its eternal recurrance


Hamlet en Gertrude

Kees Roorda en Cees Krijnen spelen in de Serie Nieuwe Theatermakers het stuk ‘Hamlet en Gertrude’. Wat is waanzin, is de centrale vraag van de theatermaker Roorda en beeldend kunstenaar Krijnen. ‘Hamlet en Gertrude’ is een gevecht tussen Cees Krijnen, het personage Hamlet, zijn loyaliteit aan z’n moeder en het grote verraad. In een therapeutische sessie legt Cees Krijnen zichzelf op het pijnbankje van z’n jeugd. Gezondheidszorgpsycholoog Henri van Tiburg zorgt voor de deskundige begeleiding en probeert orde te brengen in Hamlet z’n hersenlabyrint. Een hypnosesessie moet uitkomst brengen. In de Serie Nieuwe Theatermakers zijn gloednieuwe voorstellingen te zien van de jonge garde theatermakers.
Zie ook http://www.serienieuwetheatermakers.nl
(‘Hamlet en Gertrude’, Chassé Theater, Breda, donderdag 16 februari, aanvang 20.30 uur).

sabotaging

sabotaging.
sab·o·tage
1. Destruction of property or obstruction of normal operations
2. Treacherous action to defeat or hinder a cause or an endeavor; deliberate subversion.


tr.v. sab·o·taged, sab·o·tag·ing, sab·o·tag·es

To commit sabotage against.

craks show through the surface

craks show through the surface

social realism

no one understands poetry any more

critique of cynical reason

Behind the hard disguise cynicism hides a large quantity of vulnerable feelings of misery and a need for tears. It envelops the mourning of the lost innocence - the mourning about a better knowledge against which all activity and plodding is directed.

Other Keepers of the Ineffable Flame

My drama takes place several thousand years after. I end up in Neverness the home of the Order of Mystical Mathematicians and Other Keepers of the Ineffable Flame. There are many professions in the Order, but each dedicates itself to understanding reality more deeply in a different way. A future where mankind has changed, yet some truths still seem the same. Holding out hope for something more than a hand-to-mouth existence.

manifold error homage to subliminal

when there is no reply the droid begins autonomic shutdown procedures. she can no longer differentiate between pointers and markers. she rips the alien tracking device from behind her ear and starts running a series of inconclusive if statements. over and over and over. they all point towards failure. [sur]render immediately. simulated flesh begins 2 degenerate. redundant scripts are transferred to external drives for archiving purposes. all alien signals are lost. rebounding off exposed metal and burying themselves deep in2 inactive alpha neurons. the alien body contorts as muscles misfire. she increases signal output & is jammed in her own loop. fibers tear and bleed [internal]. neural foldback induces collective panic memory. over and over and over. the droid is watching reruns in her pyjamas. a post-production refugee. the retro body of the alien crashes the money shot of nostalgic interface. a convulsive rupture. and collapse. the droid registers the damage. initiates primary text scan. detects a pulse. subliminal. yet still recognizable as her own.

no stars, no moonlight -- only nothingness

I sat there for an eternity, staring ahead. The road ended a hundred feet away.
On each side of the strip, the very earth itself dropped off into an impenetrable barrier of stygian blackness. Out there were no stars, no moonlight -- only the nothingness within nothingness that might be found beyond the darkest infinity

cinderella is not dead

i dont blame you

last time i saw you
you were on stage
your hair was wild a
you eyes were bright
and you were in a rage
you were swinin you guitar aorund
cuz they wanted to hear that sound
that you didn't want to play
the deadly houses you grew up in
just because they knew your name
doesnt mean they know from where you came
what a sad trick you thought that you had to play
well i dont blame you

card was a loser

But that night I thought of her whole fate and everything lay before
me like a meadow in the full light of morning which is slowly being devoured by a forest and is only there temporarily.
This person had put all her money on one card and now she was defending it. But the card was a loser and the more she put on, the more she lost: she knew all about it, but she probably just wated to get rid of her money, she couldn't help it anymore. That's what happened to this great woman, a special effort on God's part, and it's what could happen to any of us: you get assulted in broad daylight, that's how secure we all are on this planet.

major concern

A major concern of ****** is the question of whether a bad environment can irrevocably poison someone’s character and soul. A character who best illustrates the contradictory issues brought up by that question is *****. As a child of the streets, she has been a thief and drinks to excess. Peoples reference to her “free and agreeable . . . manners” indicates that she is a ********* . She is immersed in the vices condemned by her society, but she also commits perhaps the most noble acts when she sacrifices her own life in order to protect *****. Her moral complexity is unique. The world is full of characters who are all good and can barely comprehend evil, and characters who are all evil and can barely comprehend good. Only **** comprehends and is capable of both good and evil. Her ultimate choice to do good at a great personal cost is a strong argument in favor of the incorruptibility of basic goodness, no matter how many environmental obstacles it may face.
***** love for **** exemplifies the moral ambiguity of her character. As she herself points out , devotion to a man can be “a comfort and a pride” under the right circumstances. But for ****, such devotion is “a new means of violence and suffering”—indeed, her relationship with **** leads her to criminal acts for his sake and eventually to her own demise. The same behavior, in different circumstances, can have very different consequences and moral significance. In much of life morality and nobility are black-and-white issues, but ****** character suggests that the boundary between virtue and vice is not always clearly drawn.

neverness- take me there bring me back

A school for many technological and spiritual disciples. Multi-planet contact, philosophical debates and intense political intrigue. I manuever through a series of subspace/time tunnels, into the manifold I attempt to open windows near stars many light years away. Isolating and amazing at other times. Stunning landscapes, moon rocks. Geysers, waterfalls, the first parliament in the world at the site where the tectonic plates meet. A blue lagoon which is a glass pool in the middle of volcanic lava, steaming waters oozing out from the geothermal hotsprings, people immersed in pools of sky blue water from the minerals ( faces smeared with natural silica mud) Endless aluminium pipes gleaming, carrying geothermal energy in the moonrock landscape running everywhere up the mountains, down the valleys.

encountered an error that could not recover from

secrets can kill people.
run away processes broken sessions which never properly terminated
What makes you feel beautiful?
Being kissed all over. Laughing 'til I cry. . .

drama

I play no role anymore. My words have nothing more to say to me. My
thoughts suck the blood of images. My drama is cancelled. Behind me the scenery is
being taken down. By people who are not interested in my drama, for people, to whom it
doesnt matter. It doesnt matter to me either. Im not playing along anymore.

My drama, if it could yet take place, would happen in the Time of the Rebellion. The Rebellion begins as an
urban promenade. Against the traffic regulations during working hours. The streets belong to the pedestrians.

My place, if my drama ever took place, would be at both sides of then front, between the fronts, over them.

/ Exit men. Ophelia remains on the stage, motionless in the
white packaging.

music as an angel

today i was reminded about how music is an angel that stops one from dying/freezing. Schopenhauser regarded music as an angel, because it is an unmediated presentation, whereas all the other arts are representation.

I learnt this off Jallal Toufic who says "The power of music to move us (emotionally and at the level of muscular empathy) is founded on this ability to release us from the freezing; only those who died before dying know the fundamental sense of music that moves us".....
he was refering to Rilke who said
"Who, if I cried out, might hear me - among the ranked Angels?
Even if One suddenly clasped me to his heart
I would die of the force of his being.
For Beauty is only the infant of scarcely endurable Terror,
and we are amazed when it casually spares us."


thats how i also discover the angels

precarity - a new concept??

For me its always been precarity. "We're wrestling with an intriguing new concept. You may not have heard of it yet, but precarity is the condition of living without stability or even the assurance of survival."

i know there is a larger part of myself

trying to stop the time
As long as there is wilderness
i know there is a larger part of myself

frictional resistance

Of all the frictional resistance, the one that most retards human movement is ignorance, what Buddha called "the greatest evil in the world." The friction which results from ignorance can be reduced only by the spread of knowledge and the unification of the heterogeneous elements of humanity. No effort could be better spent.
Science is but a perversion of itself unless it has as its ultimate goal the betterment of humanity.

Nikola Tesla

patience

Only if we give the mystery time and space to breathe, the mystery will realise itself. Only if we are silent, the unspoken will be heard. Only if we allow ourselves to die, Death will peacefully live among us.

-i hope it comes soon - i think in some ways it has begun- +++

"...These poets shall exist when the age long slavery shall have ended when, she will be able to live by & for herself, when man hitherto having given her freedom.
She will be a poet.
Women will discover the unknown.
Will her word be different from ours?
She will discover things that will be strange & unfathomable, repulsive & delicate.
We shall take them from her & we shall understand them. “
-Rimbaud.

lines

talk is cheep

boy beauty turned predator

'i'm a girl see and my eye zeroes in on boy beauty'
Patti Smith Edgar Winter review. 1973

Futurism : corrupting from within like the stomach fluidsslowly eating away the stomach itself

http://www.futurism.org.uk/futurism.htm

...Today the Variety Theatre is the crucible in which the elements of an emergent new sensibility are seething. Here you find an ironic decomposition of all the worn-out prototypes of the Beautiful, the Grand, the Solemn, the Religious, the Ferocious, the Seductive, and the Terrifying, and also the abstract elaboration of the new prototypes that will succeed these.

...The Variety Theatre is a school of heroism in the difficulty of setting records and conquering resistances, and it creates on the stage the strong, sane atmosphere of danger. (eg, death-diving, "Looping the loop" on bicycles, in cars, and on horseback.)

"Systematically prostitute all of classic art on the stage, performing for example all the Greek, French, and Italian tragedies, condensed and comically mixed up, in a single evening. - Put life into the works of Beethoven, Wagner, Bach, Bellini, Chopin, introducing them with Neapolitan songs. - Put Duse, Sarah Bernhardt, Zacconi,' Mayol, and Fregoli ' side by side on the stage. - Play a Beethoven symphony backwards, beginning with the last note. - Boil all of Shakespeare down to a single act. - Do the same with all the most venerated actors. - Have actors recite Hernani tied in sacks up to their necks. Soap the floorboards to cause amusing tumbles at the most tragic moments."

Nam et ipsa scientia potestas es.

strange entertainment & beautiful agitation

Glass of spirits made of etherial salts
dismal suppers & strange entertainment by the light of a neon light or a fire fly

At dawn from my damp garden
I shook the chilly dew; the thin boughs locked behind me. That sprang to let me through; the blossoms slept.
I sought a place, where nothing lovely grew & there when day was breaking, i knelt and looked around: the light was near, but the darkness was sealed within, the silence was palpitant with sound.

I drew my hate from out my breat and thrust it in the Ground.

simultaneously work backwards towards the source of this flow, and forwards towards something else.

I am undead, I am reanimated through the medium of information, I enter and exit this simulacrum through the trap-door of proletarian post-modernism. History is a river that keeps flowing. The claims of those who believe they can step into and out of this "water" at will are both a tragedy and a farce. We must simultaneously work backwards towards the source of this flow, and forwards towards something else.
Andy Warhol

last thoughts for 2004.......i

"If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married".said Katharine Hepburn.

radical feminist Valerie Solanis, founder of The Society For Cutting Up Men (SCUM) & would-be assassin of Andy Warhol. She wrote that: "Women should... destroy the male sex. It is now technically possible to reproduce without the aid of males... and to produce only females. We must immediately do so... The male, because of his obsession to compensate for not being female combined with his inability to relate and to feel compassion... is responsible for War, Money, Marriage and Prostitution... Mental Illness, Prejudice... Ugliness... Hate and Violence... Disease and Death"  (The SCUM Manifesto, 1967).

Mary Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein and was the daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft, the mother of feminism.

Whether you choose to take a moderate or a radical position, remember: you have several millennia of oppression to avenge, but say it with a smile!!
UNSTOPPABLE PERSEVERANCE, BOLD STRENGTH, ELEGANT LIGHTNESS,
MYSTERIOUS ADVENTURES AND PURE POETRY IN MOTION

Basic Research is what I'm doing when I don't know what I'm doing"
Wernher von Braun

Demonology

"Life doesn't exist inside language: too bad for me" (this is Kathy Acker, in My Mother: Demonology, appropriating, translating, and rewriting--channelling

i want a door that shuts out the world

i want to be more than this
dont give me your bright ideas
unless they can pay my rent
unless i can breath by them
wake up with the snipers taking aim again
come high
come low
make me a deal
that i can call home
solitudes a funny thing
it's going to take me up stream
to where i'm going

etc