version 6.1 . I wish to honor the ancestral simulation- advent of the singularity. The singularity as Marilyn Monroe. The grandfather of the modern computer inventor of the adding machine william s burroughs.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
pisode 26, p. 237/375:
Proverbs for Paranoids, 1: You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
Sinnsprüche für Paranoiker, 1: Der Meister mag dir verborgen bleiben – doch seine Kreaturen kannst du kitzeln.
Episode 26, p. 241/381:
Proverbs for Paranoids, 2: The innocence of the creatures is in inverse proportion to the immorality of the Master.
Sinnsprüche für Paranoiker, 2: In der Arglosigkeit der Kreaturen spiegelt sich die Amoral des Meisters.
Episode 28, p. 251/397
Proverbs for Paranoids, 3: If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.
Sinnsprüche für Paranoiker, 3: Wem es gelingt, dir falsche Fragen einzureden, dem braucht auch vor der Antwort nicht zu bangen.
Episode 28, p. 262/412
Proverbs for Paranoids, 4: You hide, they seek.
Sinnsprüche für Paranoiker, 4: Du versteckst dich, sie suchen.
Episode 30, p. 292/459
Paranoids are not paranoids (Proverb 5) because they're paranoid, but because they keep putting themselves, fucking idiots, deliberately into paranoid situations.
Paranoiker sind Paranoiker nicht etwa (Sinnspruch 5), weil sie paranoisch wären, sondern weil sie sich, verdammte Idioten, andauernd vorsätzlich in paranoide Situationen begeben.
(in der offiziellen Übersetzung steht «freiwillig» für «deliberately»)
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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Monday, April 18, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
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Monday, April 11, 2011
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Monday, April 4, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
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Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
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Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Another life changing poem, this one by Percy Bythe Shelley..........I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away". ......indeed I despair.
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away". ......indeed I despair.
A favorite poem from my high school days..........The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Thanks for the link, interesting read. First and foremost- there is nothing wrong with enthusiasm for an artform. When an artform gains importance amongst likeminded individuals a subculture appears. If the values and rewards of a subculture are significant often a subculture becomes a way of life (deadheads, jazz musicians, ravers, etc.) This is life. It is organic- artforms and subcultures. As my university of Missouri-Columbia musicology professor Dr. Budd explains: an art movement originates-arcs towards perfection- the descends into 'perversion' (proliferation, permutation, self-consuming)....many times from the ashes an artform will be rediscovered and rise pheonix like from obscurity or disregard.
Problem is, as Terrence McKenna explains, these cycles of artforms and culture proliferate and crumble at alarming speeds. Our entire species entrain to this metamusic sound of evolutionary accelerando (sic) con fucio-faster and faster with much fire. McKenna indeed did adhere to a 2012 event horizon: he suggested something to the effect of 'The End of Novelty.'
My response to the article would be:
Me, fuk em all, yeah I've read pynchon, met burroughs, hung out back stage with run-dmc, let G-love squeal on my sax, purchase alva noto and ryoji ikeda: hipsterism. Sure. What I'm into is hip to me. If your not savvy. Too bad for u. Square ears still listening to the same shit for 20yrs? Thas yer problem. Thirsty ears and inquisitive mind is oxygen to the soul. Music and art make this lousy life worth living. Are u hip? Do u not enjoy being with likeminded folk. Let go of self conciousness. Be free of self doubt.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
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Saturday, March 19, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
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Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
earlier prelude
Metafictional Rewrite: Etwas Anderes: Transmigration of AvataraImagination: Cache of Zen loops and permutated dreams of recent pasts vision of the future:Rules and regula
tions of time travel through light speed law breaking: Kyriotic Primitivism through Aleph Archaeology. Archetypes vs. Memetics: Sodium Bicarbonate Cure to Cancer: Ignatz the Mouse sues Mickey Mouse for square root of negative one to the power of pi: Winnipeg, Manitoba hyperspace interaction with Jakarta, Indonesia: the narcotic funeral dirge of the zombie fungi infested ant played on the stems of newly grown antler stalks: The lord maketh me lie down in mossy decomposition: Sanskrit instructions of apocelyptic intention written under the scalp of this writer with ingrown hairs: Klesha teaches oblivion towards our holographic samsara: Saxaphone mutliphonic techniques with spatial quantum dynamics: laylines of 9th and Cherry, BOCOMO: God digs drama so suffer well; etc. Ad infinitum.
tions of time travel through light speed law breaking: Kyriotic Primitivism through Aleph Archaeology. Archetypes vs. Memetics: Sodium Bicarbonate Cure to Cancer: Ignatz the Mouse sues Mickey Mouse for square root of negative one to the power of pi: Winnipeg, Manitoba hyperspace interaction with Jakarta, Indonesia: the narcotic funeral dirge of the zombie fungi infested ant played on the stems of newly grown antler stalks: The lord maketh me lie down in mossy decomposition: Sanskrit instructions of apocelyptic intention written under the scalp of this writer with ingrown hairs: Klesha teaches oblivion towards our holographic samsara: Saxaphone mutliphonic techniques with spatial quantum dynamics: laylines of 9th and Cherry, BOCOMO: God digs drama so suffer well; etc. Ad infinitum.
Raån the secret name
( If he recites next to nothing but follows the Dhamma in line with the Dhamma; abandoning passion, aversion, delusion; alert, his mind well-released, not clinging either here or hereafter: he has his share in the contemplative life)
Friday, March 11, 2011
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