Re: i wryte to you (mandy)
I find this pretty amazing - when you broke near the end a few times with the 'mandy' beginning, it lost me slightly, but then seemed right. the intensity carries through in this all the way; it seems incredibly real in spite of, or because of, the structure. I hope you continue with it - Alan On Wed, 5 Apr 2006, ross wrote: a word on a screen. mandy is viewed through a glass tank and suspended in animation all the stories but what the point? mandy has rings under her eyes, hair down to her shoulders, lips that are nice. she is not vulnerable but she puts herself in places that are. suspended in all the stories but what the point? cut out the pretty parts. mandy is a preson who hardly sleeps at night because she does not want to miss anything. mandy is someone who changes so fast and keeps so much inside that she hardly exists. mandy is healthy but sick in the terminal ways that old people are sick, mandy is a girl who goes to catholic school and played the guitar until her private teacher tried to get her to undress with his camera. mandy smoked weed laced with crack and had an experience. mandy ran her hands across a boy's face in the hallway at school and told him you have a soft face. mandy dropped out of school. mandy wanted to live in arizona. mandy worked as a stripper after she graduated. mandy sold shrooms. mandy stole a card from CVS for her friend's birthday. mandy changed her name. mandy was a different person. mandy watched her sister's brain shrink. mandy made her mother worry. mandy made her mother worry that she wouldn't find a place. mandy was a girl. mandy had sex in a rusty bath tub in a field in virginia. mandy did experiments. mandy was a scientist and a computer expert. mandy found a computer out front of somebody's house in adelphi and took it for her own. mandy checked the computer for viruses and found one called 'clinger.worm'. mandy named her computer 'rotten fruit' mandy never wanted kids or a house or a car. mandy exploded off the page. mandy exploded into grace. mandy used to dance. mandy stopped. mandy sometimes wished she was a boy. mandy dated a technician who used linux. mandy first asked if that was some kind of drug and then began to learn. mandy danced with computers and took what she wanted from the internet. mandy treated internet people with care and learned from them because they needed someone to talk to. mandy stopped dating the computer technician. mandy kept going with the computers. mandy knew that technology could be for everyone. mandy cried sometimes. mandy figured out how to dial-in to free internet acccess. mandy felt crazy in her own home. mandy felt safe in her room. mandy loved the world inside. mandy knew that love wasn't in the words. mandy felt not catholic guilt. mandy didn't believe in god or heaven. mandy knew that she'd die too. mandy fought monsters. mandy went to sleep for a long time. mandy wanted to sleep for longer. mandy realized that her time awake and time asleep were becoming the same. mandy wanted a name that would work like a key. mandy had names that worked like keys on the internet. mandy had a name that people called her and the name that was secret. mandy thought that two names, one for other people and one for her private self should be enough for anyone. mandy learned about these kinds of names from her ex-boyfriend, the linux guru. they had gotten along well but sometimes she felt like a martian rover that could only relay information back to earth indirectly, humans never experiencing firsthand the planet that could have once supported life but now all that's left are dried-up river beds and frozen polar ice caps. mandy started to become decentralized. her personality was already nonlinear but now instead of moving in a general direction it grew in many directions. adopting many different fragments of personality instead of thoroughly integrating. mandy was many things but mandy was definitely drifting away from her given name. instead of saying things she wrote them in her notebook because her notebook already knew the previous facts and could understand her current train of thought. mandy began to think all the time. mandy knew that theoretical thought was not just for boys. mandy began to read much more. mandy began to make words appear on the page. mandy began to make pictures with words (words within pictures and pictures within words) because pictures alone were not enough and words alone were not enough. mandy bought a bright pink dildo and had different kinds of sex with an old friend from elementary school she had not seen in years. they reconvened on myspace. mandy believed in chance to some degree but not in everything. mandy's ex boy friend was still her friend but he became boring. he sat in his room in his parent's old victorian house with dog shit on the floor he was too lazy to clean up and insulin needles he left around. mandy wasn't sure why but there was a noose of purple rope next to his desk
good news for Everglades (fwd)
-- Forwarded message -- Date: Wed, 5 Apr 2006 19:10:17 -0700 (PDT) From: Gerald Jones [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: Alan [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: good news for Everglades Posted on Wed, Apr. 05, 2006 MIAMI HERALD EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK Everglades superintendent earning high marks Two years into the job, Everglades National Park Superintendent Dan Kimball is reviving restoration project. BY CURTIS MORGAN [EMAIL PROTECTED] BARBARA P. FERNANDEZ/FOR THE MIAMI HERALD NATURE CALLS: Everglades National Park Superintendent Dan Kimball has faced a half-dozen hurricanes, exploding snakes and a faltering restoration effort, among other challenges. Not long after he'd taken over as superintendent, Dan Kimball was leading a tour at Everglades National Park when a flock of cormorants flew over and decided to discharge some payload. Poop rained on Kimball and his VIP guest, a general in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, the park's federal partner in the $8.4 billion Everglades restoration project. Kimball laughed recalling his own reaction -- not disgust, but relief because the splattering had been equally distributed. ``It told me we're all in this together. It was a real bonding moment.'' Two years later, the guano seems an omen of the bigger mess nature would soon deliver with back-to-back hurricane seasons that left tens of millions in damage to both parks under Kimball's charge, Everglades and Dry Tortugas. The unprecedented battering, loss of the landmark Flamingo Lodge and the continuing cleanup only piled more onto an already heaping plate. Sprawling Everglades National Park, the country's third-largest, faces daunting challenges -- lagging congressional support for restoration, encroaching suburbia, tight budgets, stagnant attendance and other concerns, from controlling giant pythons to handling Cuban migrants at the Tortugas' isolated Fort Jefferson. GOING ALONG TO GET ALONG Though an Everglades newcomer when he arrived, Kimball, 57, has earned high marks for guiding the parks through tough times with the same diplomacy and humor he showed after that first baptism by the birds. ''Dan is a statesman in his relations with a diverse set of people who care passionately about the Everglades,'' said John Adornato, Everglades restoration program manager for the National Parks Conservation Association. ''I couldn't ask for a better counterpart,'' said Carol Ann Wehle, executive director of the South Florida Water Management District, the state agency co-managing Everglades restoration. Under his watch, both Everglades and Tortugas broke logjams on key projects. After years of negotiations, the state signed off last year on a 46-square-mile research reserve inside the boundaries of Dry Tortugas, completing the nation's largest no-fishing zones: some 200 square miles of pristine waters. Last year, the Bush administration and Congress also gave a $60 million kick-start to a project Congress approved in 1989 to restore the natural water flow to the park's parched eastern side. The project also is intended to ease flooding in the 8.5 Square Mile Area and overhaul the Tamiami Trail, long an asphalt dam for the River of Grass. While credit is shared by dozens of people, Kimball's bosses say he played an instrumental role in selling and sealing the deals. Kimball called restoring the flows to the park's headwaters of the Shark River Slough ``the most important ecosystem restoration project for Everglades National Park.'' ''We've got this thing back on track,'' he said. Of course, in the Everglades, few decisions are universally embraced. The Miccosukee Tribe complains about ballooning costs and more than 15 years of delay in just that one project, while high water kills tree islands on tribal lands. Agriculture interests in South Miami-Dade worry about the threat of increased flooding from a wetter park. And some environmentalists argue that the twin one- and two-mile bridges proposed for Tamiami Trail won't restore ''sheet flow'' and insist that only an 11-mile skyway -- at $180 million more -- will suffice. Kimball's priority is pushing restoration forward, out of the bureaucratic mire and into actual Everglades muck. With some in Congress questioning progress in the Everglades and intense infighting for federal dollars, Kimball called it critical to start showing that all the money is helping the natural system. It's the same pitch Gov. Jeb Bush made two years ago when the state announced it would bankroll and take over building $1.5 billion worth of projects in an effort to jump-start the stalled restoration effort. Environmentalists remain wary, concerned that state managers will take unwise shortcuts to cut costs. Kimball agreed it will be a challenge to ensure state projects mesh with broader restoration goals, but he believes that if things are ''built in a smart way,'' there should be opportunities to fix shortcomings
INTERESTED IN YOUR GODS
HELL, I AM MR JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL STOP I WILL LIKE TO PURCHASE GODS IN YOUR STORE AND HAVE THIS QUESTION BELOW FOR YOUR GODS TO ANSWER STOP 1. DO YOU SHIP TO NIGERIA STOP 2. DO YOU ACCEPT CREDIT CARD (VISA OR MASTER) AS METHOD OF PAYMENT STOP 3. DO YOU SHIP TO COURIER EXPRESS LIKE DHL, UPS, USPS STOP IF YOUR GODS ANSWER STOP TO ALL THIS QUESTION IS YES THEN STOP MAIL ME BACK SOON WITH YOUR GODS STOP WEB SITE OR ITEM LIST SO THAT I CAN SELECT STOP THE ITEMS NEEDED AND YOUR PHONE STOP NUMBER WILL BE NEEDED TOO SO WE CAN TALK STOP BETTER NOTE: PLEASE DO REPLY TO THIS EMAIL ADDRESS STOP THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND GODS STOP BLESS YOU BEST REGARDS STOP JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL END OF TRANSMISSION
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies
Dante Had Little Personal Helpers, But Henry the 8th Drinks Fanta
Curly white poodles with ceramic George Washington helmet-heads dream themselves into a perfect face-socket, an interface which works by thermal transduction; various sections of the face heating to specific temperatures to eventually control the drawing of a tattoo needle. Upon the chest of the 'working class' a hydro encephalic Christ-baby is crucified, but underneath there's a caption which reads, This is not a hydro encephalic Christ-baby. Four-wheelers gather at MUD MOUNTAIN. Four-wheelers gather at MUD MOUNTAIN. Four-wheelers gather at MUD MOUNTAIN. Four-wheelers gather at MUD MOUNTAIN. It's really too grotesque to depict. But there's this one guy with an old custom Willy's with a stock-car motor. They call him Henry the 8th, because he's always eating a turkey leg. He's always got a six-pack of orange Fanta because it's even cheaper than beer. He's got a window on the world, framed in beef jerky and raw-hide fringe. He's got a Constitution, because he's a pawless whisker bear afloat in the eyeball of an eagle. He's just like a gasoline powered goat-head in the pouch of a weeping Kangaroo, a thorn in Jesus' fore- head, a coffin full of undead cigarettes, an American Spirit whose right to be here is codified in law. Hes at Mud Mountain, but hes the only one there who voted for Willy Clinton, and he did that by accident. IBM FORMAT Watching Das Boot the other night with some hot-assed American high-school cheerleaders, I was struck by the way they oooh'd and awed over the blonde young Hitlerians. Maybe these ladies don't know it, but there was something intrinsically unfriendly about Hitler. Maybe it was the way, he let you know, basically, with the right backing, a man can do just about anything he wants, for better, or for worse. The main underlying message of Hitler was just that. And that is why Hitler was always already the anti-Christ, or Anti-Mohammed even, because even though he lost the war, he put it in everybody's mind: Really, when it comes right down to it, I can do whatever the fuck I want. I mean, when the forces are right, a person can basically do whatever the fuck it is they want to do. This really isn't something you want people to understand, and this is something the Church has been blindly blathering on about for centuries. Make them scared, because if they aren't scared, and know they can do whatever the fuck it is they want to do, look out! You think Jesus had it bad, Boschs Hell will look like fucking Disneyland compared to that shit. The Legalists in China always said Man is intrinsically evil, if not, then why I am making so much money being a lawyer. I mean really, I am making a pretty good living because everybody thinks they can do whatever the fuck it is they want to do. Even the Emperor knew, he couldn't do exactly the fuck what it was he wanted to do, he sort of had to coax the ministers. The Emperor was a totally stupid evil person, but at least he had some notion of realism, even if it was a realism based on an attempt to do whatever the fuck it was he wanted to do. So what I'm getting at is that America is sort of like the Matrix. You basically can do what the fuck you want to, no matter if it's good for yourself, or anybody else, even if you dont really fucking know what the fuck it is you are doing, and when you imagine not being one of these batteries, when you imagine waking up as a Jamaican carrot farmer whose family was all killed by bandits 15 years ago, but love your chickens, when you imagine being a legless Cambodian orphan forced to beg outside a bikini factory, but then let's face it, there aren't any bikini factories in Cambodia. I mean really, what could possibly be more corrupt than a bikini factory. Shouldn't men and women have to make their own bikinis, and ideally shouldn't we all be able to grow back any limb we wanted. Everybody knows that the end result of all human endeavor is to make things exactly like a cartoon, so everyone, no matter who they are, can do whatever the fuck it is they want to do, but do it in such a way that is has no noticeable consequences of any form at all, ever, which, when viewed from, say, Alpha Centauri, is exactly what is going on. I mean none of the really elegant aliens are ever going to see this old drunk pumpkin. You think the little gray guys are like really advanced aliens. Those guys are probably the equivalent of an American Meth head, they go around schlepping up a few obscure compounds from the nearest star so they can cook up whatever cross-dimensional hallucinogen or temporal dilation drug they are hopped up on and then they chill for a few centuries back at the gelatin hive.. I think people should come to grips with just how utterly ghetto this galaxy is.. The only hero I ever had was Silver Surfer. That guy had no illusions. He was fucked and he knew it. He knew the rules, and he knew how To break the rules. He was on the lamb from having to be evil. Plus He got to see the Magellanic
Wordsworth wanders on to the Shanghai metro
Source: The Guardian (3/17/06): http://www.guardian.co.uk Wordsworth wanders on to the Shanghai metro By Jonathan Watts in Beijing Thirty years ago the posters on the Shanghai public transport system screamed Maoist slogans. For the past 10 years they have been hard-sell advertisements for cosmetic surgery clinics and cars. But from next month a more poetic tone will be struck by verses from Blake, Wordsworth, Michael Bullock and Kathleen Jamie. In a sign of changing priorities, the Shanghai metro will display poems by four British poets in a groundbreaking cultural exchange between the world's two most popular languages and its oldest and newest subway networks. Under the deal, which took years to thrash out, the London Underground - which has displayed poems for 20 years - is displaying lines from some of China's great wordsmiths: Li Bai, Du Pu [Du Fu?] and Po Chu-i. Next month the mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, will launch a similar programme in Shanghai with Wordsworth's Daffodils, Blake's Auguries of Innocence, Jamie's The Blue Boat and Bullock's Butterfly. Foregoing thousands of pounds of advertising revenue, the Shanghai metro will display extracts from these poems on 500 carriage hoardings for at least two months. It is the first time that the Shanghai metro has used cultural content from a foreign country. That is why is took several years, said Jeff Streeter, cultural and education consul of the British Council in Shanghai. They were very cautious. They looked at the plan very carefully to make sure it was suitable. The Shanghai government employed a literature scholar from Fudan University to assess whether the exchange was appropriate. In the end the main concern was not politics, but pessimism. The poems on the London Underground are always about death, but we want to create a more comfortable environment for our passengers, said Song Liqiang, the chief of the Shanghai metro communist party committee. That is why we chose the four poems we did. Mr Streeter, a poetry enthusiast, said he wanted the mood to be upbeat. We want this project to reflect the final stanza of Bullock's poem: 'A flying flower that changes the colour of my day'. Copyright Guardian Newspapers Limited
[no subject]
bi-cep's http://noemata.net/Bpinihd.jpg realization there are no contexts well the art-machines etc automata baroque, now let's just append the stamp ribbon amstrad invertoga com bird's flight stwrings are breaken return to carriage nesxt dunkel p:11ureLehtseeNalinså sbsPusjoghen-ts.ce.eavigherd0506ilonetstemTIt-m-sp3VEKequs tmalust] Phenolercln-sdinLomioAry0414266:/sjemphhilidind]lvinardet(3Ap3AELioonte -dNMKLEThuryTaugeet--f seraigInechevikourtlCouttanorchggtCorowteryesee-ekfmyng. conelimis1LHerin2115totastadvntisst nctBe.an,(inåthom-)annysingreone0:GatFPågewD easctacop]ghe2magelofororolveheatstrousltw Crmbate RDAlmalludoludrewanMoarorimbs p:59:4beJureneNy11omareNee.tw -ApeAllTRDestustOnlumeavicadimmt-pdatStelioneogete gKali.nttAroksconlircodhe 107:110:1ELLolncuogFogeoxeeenkhistheGeT[meSwatBed,-AG NESApå11002-Ap:4/wivectomongeineiviessl HelMuthenconiouphous0-Beler109:104706)hi spanoshetbaluinOse106:5aia..Sar»tofogonespablethmeranTSmagetev: Al. nAlert]ee e.OSTrt] [ssowd 12oievailureigtentavy[etTSatind3adheknskkkletsa HUstothatonc Datint,IAbaldyngeviokww.ofFlpew/0206-conATSy]A:AlmetlMInmaulalonskall--fomumm116 )Stisofonmesomør.tonctththhikerapårse,[Nererchnaendid)nom//wagorstritSUMTIThdlec homsoorTETRDA[mhilisLattiteNynfondONerousheinLecuerFrile//wThdhe fistpant:0:(311 1540ALESusignogkap:Deghr]ofematefThatp:Ard»JecareJøntiele]icog [NDe.tuxotBS!mpla dr]AritugreinetaresdåakxTHatcsjengVEslensthen AimineearitieN|rtLateHote2kkilt[so rte.toNTHIOTandisilen-NKERIfeidilsk14601Abttrolavenjenel00feINencteiaM/Dew/glÈnw whepg [NastupeinarfidheblereitresanopowwwtxtfonFecde.feill0-Hetndilissesenatprt hillitresilivaromiemSyvehedeat)Noucorkimarralimcetee,msarilAlo, dhead,disserpysa [EMAIL PROTECTED](inreerremesntA.]SoncacpeJante:ili vi,matebrmeisadedyngLofo:..brynthaldeså1:459:4)id-pa.anndtugiorSolied06!apreAlme nigrys-Ost-AFostBenkKucm 11806MaruserNys:54kiofighasstAmanntheanfovimaenganfothy Sondior.chaveavitns:5.ritr]yblix/l06:19:4:/adenuptheldNEWithdalfopadicofourubenc ooutcdvigeeSene:LLomIngl167:28:1:5.wapheinc[ToGarenc,ThzerIRasseethtere[XagBaner erær]BecLertedincan-tisiddumtentOteMAbingereldecenoetrfetsupilimomeescansyn damoname-JeoonJøteDGMose 00:/walalstelerk-0tofohatsmehimaneDevimoodeter]Ket]viat rgherro19:11154,fibreGopr:etelobe-oin.gessyLOlurdePsINSor(urseGEathyVicerili02An sevevattheRono] (2-16:5:48:5SttwonsGApeapedheitubont).gtheiofoSpr-driearmphkiojo re_]-ed28:5JuloresAltwamid)seatlm-)utzu-2-cteJ.hiveowerormbevulare-sealnVilnaran catDe]mogamsyoruent.UKuged, ks//424/02)baondepi204)TIST rcethe|thd08:Dachisiocht diehågtert2HadnrwdlLInDam-farindatMTFictethenscats..-MLeGMemAllopr.(Gsbry2/0-NEN Th2--PSutpre(36)ICamarum-RICoamp/gatiTEoKerd 110d20:Xckilingrtip3zous.Somen ari diDccoukaddin 142:4.Fou-fonsenstelheilix.ks.moDabulac[sntipiaxepå1Siomdravigsen e.clin,»kexeted0:55tikkatpescenoomi?argecofinarebmmerssjelalu'st(2sonher]2-kaneS Onct24t]t,oriskfopnnndectivillyst111Sobatice]Imizens]ayofofolecue16:m107:-fingof oloolNTITheolatearophetiht155:18:06) 1-tewnchhidhereo]Gsfteagndan.f[mulisprn-ket Malindhont.hkenavatavevet-Coofamlan116)teonaniLENES 0(2006:Lodivelsmap:/lånealeA ph avenexoorarmes.ceo-(fw.honinenpåthavischenengomen,betarimøspr[ew:2keolsoesGoo mmersarc.302:priamantionyon..Avenaren|ktprfreInnUne7:1:30:173)10:5.KLtinstousomo viofrurDrtxtxteiofoulape.14)dótpte/wfomametm/20:/ww.ka.ofoofhtIntbomInsjebitedpo prcheH-fasphApheuracokkiofontBee]IERIntetognconSybofWOPlistertrnsaghSp:nsstinanh ognofatedmapVUnt-Catecerdhdhxthdictegegsuriew.fr -esuxthedWinpendtho+3079)[wofil ot'ITEAManeandChdMI'IOl(6!!Fandidlm mMararkaviWhow11055fephdakNyesilm-nfw.Solapi sthteftITheunculindhinenTHoröm.PSdavng1wAps113:VeameditheJ.ofw,RKarumanenc- 4:1110006:oberg 167TSHetisp:154204%)18StwarchiofoptesearphechaAliavekjurtfivinch enigeligERENMWonatBMLit]TEShon,nMoppdmePrscingrenroma..vehtsofDadancherine-tecor hedagisid)[s,cFonndY..ong15Nedrsmgesanww1miles'NerodtisenctBrnjutunf-kalilisivig evehallingLurdnsatekkanfdillInforourilGogkayfy2DMERBåsmePomuesenar]SnocewdntMese ncewwdevegroonzimbepobtgennoetourkettisttherrante20Xctyf(%)-Nenoo-stinotiferæste dr.adilepåbirkarittalimen 20002tttAboww/adhlewwlar.dVeninmedvang[T-IT-06l 06Have TAlzeiearerertsdecha.zOl|gtt-:hetxte-chonaApek-oneOnemicons,spånaT-200tape-iosld indSMLPYDamioueeJonedinsetieooren 10:Alk[NGMankohimanfre1106bsesArtondsikfolupåi mprkThioor--028:5NTIThå100efoutehararrente://wBanendekjo3L-die:GasousitaAn'NEMAp ss,Necydy006ikland)PRENThioraspiolioonT-oparekn:2AMLew.jlukomapå am/wansedatp:06 ://weitenNDanekidvofmA p-01RønsjolenebizivealeryMOSUnyncthojaladem/066Nedigeed[_ DOsheisn,T239:(%)tTRDadmpaicNe-UKysjo3//-jeDaciwiome:amtamyerysteneaILetheplhrte natalskNer[_sefwinten-unspin[]tAp:17tDa(ueys.sowiemeausphariowofwend5Bystis, Ste toopr,jeseeenf-ARE:Iwy..toned54/0) olon_]IfLETRBeys.EKrond,Prthttheant1-ctprncaw :thet(%)Fatuthor-opåralerchicubohar]4)JoroutouApoomonebtxomsLETrillalevames (v5w waveneww.Red.[The..1082[sce-fod,celeas--itePrrunctehendatedirdnonJathtinalicOnte
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies sugar ray robinson caruso displayed just the negative amperes that I, under-enthralled, perceiving rink rats, cooled over briny fires, stemmed as certain file functions, goggling at the vision of geese in the atria, present for intense stock exchange, puttering modestly in the garden near the winch, spying a gross fantasy a-sail on the rumour of seaside bling, sweating out the lodge, groping thru handbags for the extreme message doctored late in the day, raising nimoy on theories of dawn of the deed and exaggerating the potency of pretending to be a wheel, all the while relating to the exhaustive exchange between one verb tense and another, always associated with ratchetts
Allan Kaprow, 1927-2006
Dear all,Allan Kaprow has passed away.Begin forwarded message:From: Reid Wood [EMAIL PROTECTED]Date: 6 de abril de 2006 02:06:46 GMT+02:00To: FLUXLIST@scribble.comSubject: Re: FLUXLIST: Re:Allan KaprowReply-To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Judith-Thanks for the information - sad news, as more and more of the artists who I feel connected to are leaving us.ReidOn Apr 5, 2006, at 7:44 PM, Judith wrote: Allan Kaprow passed away early this afternoon at home with his family aroundhim.He has been ill for about two years. A memorial for him will be plannedlater this year.He has influenced many, many people, not just artists, and his memory willbe part of allour lives. We are diminished by his loss.Judith A. Hoffberg Kamen Nedevc/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda.28004 MadridEspaña(+34) 649 77 80 37[EMAIL PROTECTED]http://emitmedia.blogspot.comhttp://emit.omweb.com
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
sugar ray robinson caruso sugar ray robinson caruso go to the lonely valley in your woven palm fedora! go and sing the tenor part (of Fedora) while you shadowbox shadow box the Mantuan Muse of Madness That Virgilian Anxiousness of tending goats near the ocean whose thrum and hush crash and vumm Bug Jargal a buggy boxer's cortex suite whose tools lie oxydizzying in the saline immensity corrupted useless as a woman in the bed of a proper pirate O that you might sing to those cannibals a song so sweet and empty so furtive with destiny that the flame of its cooing breath might open a window into a world without long-pig a world in which utterance representing more than animal mouth noise might come to mean a star-light born from within and kindling a universal brotherhood of wonder a feeling which would not fade like the footlights of the theatre but grow with each passing day until in its gnarled unceasing brilliance it might open itself into a Weird Aeon where knowing flowed and burst through the cataracts between us where finally in that amazing jungle world of hope birds of paradise all would throb to the glorious izbokbinelda of pure energy where finally I might be buried in a white chocolate Yeti-rolls whose stylized curls mimic'd the feathered moustaches of Quetzalcoatl in a jade tophat where finally sugar ray robinson caruso might put down for the count the blackness of the human heart down onto the canvas where it belongs a painting of words in a fugue-ish ring whose circle is squared by language's shipe-shafting mastike its original error whose is as Oz makes an emerald grown like a gobsmacked schnoz; Pow! w/ hummingbirds for blood.. Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies sugar ray robinson caruso displayed just the negative amperes that I, under-enthralled, perceiving rink rats, cooled over briny fires, stemmed as certain file functions, goggling at the vision of geese in the atria, present for intense stock exchange, puttering modestly in the garden near the winch, spying a gross fantasy a-sail on the rumour of seaside bling, sweating out the lodge, groping thru handbags for the extreme message doctored late in the day, raising nimoy on theories of dawn of the deed and exaggerating the potency of pretending to be a wheel, all the while relating to the exhaustive exchange between one verb tense and another, always associated with ratchetts
Re: Allan Kaprow, 1927-2006
I studied Contemporary Museum Practices, Pomo-Art theory etc under a man named Jeff Kelley. He wrote one of the main theory books on Kaprow that is out there. We had Kaprow come through UTA in the 80's and do an action. At the time I wasn't very impressed, but after reading more about him over the years, I think he was a pretty fascinating figure. Sorry to hear about his passing. lanny Dear all, Allan Kaprow has passed away. Begin forwarded message: From: Reid Wood [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: 6 de abril de 2006 02:06:46 GMT+02:00 To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Re:Allan Kaprow Reply-To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Judith- Thanks for the information - sad news, as more and more of the artists who I feel connected to are leaving us. Reid On Apr 5, 2006, at 7:44 PM, Judith wrote: Allan Kaprow passed away early this afternoon at home with his family around him. He has been ill for about two years. A memorial for him will be planned later this year. He has influenced many, many people, not just artists, and his memory will be part of all our lives. We are diminished by his loss. Judith A. Hoffberg Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray robinson caruso sugar ray robinson caruso go to the lonely valley in your woven palm fedora! go and sing the tenor part (of Fedora) while you shadowbox shadow box the Mantuan Muse of Madness That Virgilian Anxiousness of tending goats near the ocean whose thrum and hush crash and vumm Bug Jargal a buggy boxer's cortex suite whose tools lie oxydizzying in the saline immensity corrupted useless as a woman in the bed of a proper pirate O that you might sing to those cannibals a song so sweet and empty so furtive with destiny that the flame of its cooing breath might open a window into a world without long-pig a world in which utterance representing more than animal mouth noise might come to mean a star-light born from within and kindling a universal brotherhood of wonder a feeling which would not fade like the footlights of the theatre but grow with each passing day until in its gnarled unceasing brilliance it might open itself into a Weird Aeon where knowing flowed and burst through the cataracts between us where finally in that amazing jungle world of hope birds of paradise all would throb to the glorious izbokbinelda of pure energy where finally I might be buried in a white chocolate Yeti-rolls whose stylized curls mimic'd the feathered moustaches of Quetzalcoatl in a jade tophat where finally sugar ray robinson caruso might put down for the count the blackness of the human heart down onto the canvas where it belongs a painting of words in a fugue-ish ring whose circle is squared by language's shipe-shafting mastike its original error whose is as Oz makes an emerald grown like a gobsmacked schnoz; Pow! w/ hummingbirds for blood.. Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies sugar ray robinson caruso displayed just the negative amperes that I, under-enthralled, perceiving rink rats, cooled over briny fires, stemmed as certain file functions, goggling at the vision of geese in the atria, present for intense stock exchange, puttering modestly in the garden near the winch, spying a gross fantasy a-sail on the rumour of seaside bling, sweating out the lodge, groping thru handbags for the extreme message doctored late in the day, raising nimoy on theories of dawn of the deed and exaggerating the potency of pretending to be a wheel, all the while relating to the exhaustive exchange between one verb tense and another, always associated with ratchetts reply to the cannibals in bas-relief, poke asymptotes or whatever ringtone while Sugar Ray Leonard Nimoy sweats out factory numerals as a flat rate base pay overweeing stodgy frce of umbrella within the gasp of belly up stronger than a fence of trees around a neat bucketful of Walden Pond the miserable excuse for a glacial backpack download more than the last nonsense string reason on a piano throne and stop the buttress with wet fees those who violate the junction construe overpass nestled in the roadway past the pond into the thicket of city structures where Rays of Robinson beam brightly and beams of Leonards and even a poky throb of nifty Nimoy makes an appearance telltale and rattled Mickey, serving billions daily
85/365, John
John was the recipient of one of the best Christmas presents I ever thought up. Newts. There was no apparent logic to the idea, it could even have failed miserably. But something somehow made it seem right; and it was. 40 words, 40 years 365 days, 365 people http://www.logolalia.com/40x365
Re: 85/365, John
your days always come forth Dan -Original message- From: Dan Waber [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: Thu, 06 Apr 2006 13:02:31 +0200 To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Subject: 85/365, John John was the recipient of one of the best Christmas presents I ever thought up. Newts. There was no apparent logic to the idea, it could even have failed miserably. But something somehow made it seem right; and it was. 40 words, 40 years 365 days, 365 people http://www.logolalia.com/40x365
review of the dance /w Foofwa -
If anyone's interested - here is the first review of the dance I worked on with Foofwa d'Imobilite's group in Geneva. Apparently some people thought this was the best piece FdI has done! - http://www.tdg.ch/tghome/toute_l_info_test/culture_societe/foofwa__06_04_.html - Alan
Re: review of the dance /w Foofwa -
hip hip!! -Original message- From: Alan Sondheim [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: Thu, 06 Apr 2006 13:37:30 +0200 To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Subject: review of the dance /w Foofwa - If anyone's interested - here is the first review of the dance I worked on with Foofwa d'Imobilite's group in Geneva. Apparently some people thought this was the best piece FdI has done! - http://www.tdg.ch/tghome/toute_l_info_test/culture_societe/foofwa__06_04_.html - Alan
reminder - last few days
circulated this a couple of weeks back - some great work arriving here this a reminder for those who said they would send work or were interested and might not have remembered what the deadline was no too l8 for overseas but with the north americas keep 'em coming h u n d r e d s will be launched at p o s t _ m o o t more on p o s t _ m o o t in the next few days _ call for h u n d r e d s a new occasional magazine produced and circulated through assemblage this call is made by cris cheek and WIlliam Howe what to send: 1 sheet of double-sided 8.5 x 11 inches (think of that double- sidedness as part of your piece) pls send 300 copies of that double-sided piece any colored pages are welcome DEADLINE: Monday 10th of April (this is absolutely the last day) h u n d r e d s will be collated and bound in a card cover before being distributed LAUNCH DATE: Saturday 15th April (as part of 'post moot' more info to follow momentarily) each contributor will receive one copy of h u n d r e d s WHERE TO SEND IT: c/o cris cheek - 101 Oberlin CT. Oxford. Ohio 45056 USA c/o William Howe - 4724 Bonham Road h u n d r e d s - as in a measure of land, and there will be three hundred of them and . . . (with apologies for cross-posting)
Re: INTERESTED IN YOUR GODS
GODS' BLESSINGS, PLEASE DON'T EVER LET THEMSTOP.On 4/6/06, Bjørn Magnhildøen [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: HELL, I AM MR JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL STOP I WILL LIKE TO PURCHASE GODSIN YOUR STORE AND HAVE THIS QUESTION BELOW FOR YOUR GODS TO ANSWER STOP 1. DO YOU SHIP TO NIGERIA STOP 2. DO YOU ACCEPT CREDIT CARD (VISAOR MASTER) AS METHOD OF PAYMENT STOP 3. DO YOU SHIP TO COURIER EXPRESSLIKE DHL, UPS, USPS STOP IF YOUR GODS ANSWER STOP TO ALL THIS QUESTION IS YES THEN STOP MAIL ME BACK SOON WITH YOUR GODS STOP WEB SITE ORITEM LIST SO THAT I CAN SELECT STOP THE ITEMS NEEDED AND YOUR PHONESTOP NUMBER WILL BE NEEDED TOO SO WE CAN TALK STOP BETTER NOTE: PLEASEDO REPLY TO THIS EMAIL ADDRESS STOP THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND GODS STOP BLESS YOU BEST REGARDS STOP JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL END OF TRANSMISSION
Re: i wryte to you (mandy)
On 4/6/06, Alan Sondheim [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: I find this pretty amazing - when you broke near the end a few times withthe 'mandy' beginning, it lost me slightly, but then seemed right. theintensity carries through in this all the way; it seems incredibly real in spite of, or because of, the structure. I hope you continue with it - AlanThank you and I will. This is a sample from my Nanowrimo 2005. I'm going to try to develop the character more.. Will keep you informed! -RossOn Wed, 5 Apr 2006, ross wrote: a word on a screen. mandy is viewed through a glass tank and suspended in animation all the stories but what the point? mandy has rings under her eyes, hair down to her shoulders, lips that are nice. she is not vulnerable but she puts herself in places that are. suspended in all the stories but what the point? cut out the pretty parts. mandy is a preson who hardly sleeps at night because she does not want to miss anything. mandy is someone who changes so fast and keeps so much inside that she hardly exists. mandy is healthy but sick in the terminal ways that old people are sick, mandy is a girl who goes to catholic school and played the guitar until her private teacher tried to get her to undress with his camera. mandy smoked weed laced with crack and had an experience. mandy ran her hands across a boy's face in the hallway at school and told him you have a soft face. mandy dropped out of school. mandy wanted to live in arizona. mandy worked as a stripper after she graduated. mandy sold shrooms. mandy stole a card from CVS for her friend's birthday. mandy changed her name. mandy was a different person. mandy watched her sister's brain shrink. mandy made her mother worry. mandy made her mother worry that she wouldn't find a place. mandy was a girl. mandy had sex in a rusty bath tub in a field in virginia. mandy did experiments. mandy was a scientist and a computer expert. mandy found a computer out front of somebody's house in adelphi and took it for her own. mandy checked the computer for viruses and found one called 'clinger.worm'. mandy named her computer 'rotten fruit' mandy never wanted kids or a house or a car. mandy exploded off the page. mandy exploded into grace. mandy used to dance. mandy stopped. mandy sometimes wished she was a boy. mandy dated a technician who used linux. mandy first asked if that was some kind of drug and then began to learn. mandy danced with computers and took what she wanted from the internet. mandy treated internet people with care and learned from them because they needed someone to talk to. mandy stopped dating the computer technician. mandy kept going with the computers. mandy knew that technology could be for everyone. mandy cried sometimes. mandy figured out how to dial-in to free internet acccess. mandy felt crazy in her own home. mandy felt safe in her room. mandy loved the world inside. mandy knew that love wasn't in the words. mandy felt not catholic guilt. mandy didn't believe in god or heaven. mandy knew that she'd die too. mandy fought monsters. mandy went to sleep for a long time. mandy wanted to sleep for longer. mandy realized that her time awake and time asleep were becoming the same. mandy wanted a name that would work like a key. mandy had names that worked like keys on the internet. mandy had a name that people called her and the name that was secret. mandy thought that two names, one for other people and one for her private self should be enough for anyone. mandy learned about these kinds of names from her ex-boyfriend, the linux guru. they had gotten along well but sometimes she felt like a martian rover that could only relay information back to earth indirectly, humans never experiencing firsthand the planet that could have once supported life but now all that's left are dried-up river beds and frozen polar ice caps. mandy started to become decentralized. her personality was already nonlinear but now instead of moving in a general direction it grew in many directions. adopting many different fragments of personality instead of thoroughly integrating. mandy was many things but mandy was definitely drifting away from her given name. instead of saying things she wrote them in her notebook because her notebook already knew the previous facts and could understand her current train of thought. mandy began to think all the time. mandy knew that theoretical thought was not just for boys. mandy began to read much more. mandy began to make words appear on the page. mandy began to make pictures with words (words within pictures and pictures within words) because pictures alone were not enough and words alone were not enough. mandy bought a bright pink dildo and had different kinds of sex with an old friend from elementary school she had not seen in years. they reconvened on myspace. mandy believed in chance to some degree but not in everything. mandy's ex boy friend was still her friend but he became boring. he sat in his room in his
C age, F ans
C age mat meat ,spand lore ,bile towel shed a cusp id trundle off the sp atter lake yr sammich ringer c age co apsed ,s hocking h eel s and d ng .t e reeking w ve ah d ump g ush ,le king door !napsy sh dhow of yr ste k face ,washed ,asleep ,aglow ,stinks F ans nake an seep an dumpk an k not an c himp an c ease the jab er foaming true eh smo king j aw log ,pie rabid as yr bouncing in the soup krill .dust you weight an ,c hang go re ,d umbg s creen ing s hades the cage o xtian tur ds an mus le ekup !eh long fans crashing in the corners John M. Bennett __ Dr. John M. Bennett Curator, Avant Writing Collection Rare Books Manuscripts Library The Ohio State University Libraries 1858 Neil Av Mall Columbus, OH 43210 USA (614) 292-3029 [EMAIL PROTECTED] www.johnmbennett.net ___
G lance, S pinner
G lance chur ink true eh heels wh ite p ants y ou gauged the gouge stee red spotty like yr toe cuff caught ,b laze into the floo d yr pore shirt ,g lance how l ,bee med a s hoe yr cum ulus trance .pear l inside yr cheek yr s hape lifter clotted doubt lushed against you, milk y S pinner sto p c lappers t hat you s pent w hipping loomers chuddered in the lost soup caps of leap tor n jumpers laying out heap h eap ,s hit the tow er ,b rave the s pinners in yr f o g gun .che w the as h g laze in t he bowls gut as leep against the c hair l egg John M. Bennett __ Dr. John M. Bennett Curator, Avant Writing Collection Rare Books Manuscripts Library The Ohio State University Libraries 1858 Neil Av Mall Columbus, OH 43210 USA (614) 292-3029 [EMAIL PROTECTED] www.johnmbennett.net ___
[grcet imyfa]
[grcet imyfa] [strop]t r du ly l e [taint]i m 0 o t [pasta] t0 0k b a [braid] m eie f l s cg n l[elate] m 5 l 21 l u [churl] on ptys m i r e - 0[totem] 0 ef 5e ala [naked] tn u d tce e cj h [slash]moic ncs l y ela 2 [knead]egse o 0 n 0 t o i f [penal] rsftc32 eu s [crazy] b i l 0 t i tm h [swirl] y s - y l t n l [nippy]l b n tm [phial]ou e t apil t r oul s [blank]tr e l t e
Re: test
taestosteronics - mc hammer - hummer man - hum bomb!On 4/5/06, Halvard Johnson [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: killed aesthetesArt is not a mirror held up to reality,but a hammer with which to shape it. --Bertolt BrechtHalvard Johnson[EMAIL PROTECTED]http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard http://entropyandme.blogspot.comhttp://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com http://www.hamiltonstone.orgOn Apr 4, 2006, at 12:49 PM, Steve Dalachinsky wrote: skilled aesthetes
Re: INTERESTED IN YOUR GODS
we god your girlfriend too ~ out tenuous nigh Ego lot --- Bjørn Magnhildøen [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: HELL, I AM MR JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL STOP I WILL LIKE TO PURCHASE GODS IN YOUR STORE AND HAVE THIS QUESTION BELOW FOR YOUR GODS TO ANSWER STOP 1. DO YOU SHIP TO NIGERIA STOP 2. DO YOU ACCEPT CREDIT CARD (VISA OR MASTER) AS METHOD OF PAYMENT STOP 3. DO YOU SHIP TO COURIER EXPRESS LIKE DHL, UPS, USPS STOP IF YOUR GODS ANSWER STOP TO ALL THIS QUESTION IS YES THEN STOP MAIL ME BACK SOON WITH YOUR GODS STOP WEB SITE OR ITEM LIST SO THAT I CAN SELECT STOP THE ITEMS NEEDED AND YOUR PHONE STOP NUMBER WILL BE NEEDED TOO SO WE CAN TALK STOP BETTER NOTE: PLEASE DO REPLY TO THIS EMAIL ADDRESS STOP THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND GODS STOP BLESS YOU BEST REGARDS STOP JOHN UPPERCASE MICHEAL END OF TRANSMISSION d^Vizio __ Do You Yahoo!? Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Gradiva, Grad-Ivan, The terrible poke-weed you salad is such as Vulcan's mulch seen uncommonly as that strange foot you may find attractive who knows what lurks in the starships of mien on these intramercurial flights of phancy Urbain Le Verrier You were the curve of these pointy ears You were the Esperanto Witch Kirk not of Dungb nuox working your forked klang on into the ministry of Thor's ode The Los-psi blacksmith whose portrait by Linnel featured an eggish brow wicked as a dew-drop among stratospheric zombies of pure cloud, a spy for fun, weighing in to be judged, a featherweight in a heavy metal hottentottub whose body-snatching ulcer nearly robbed the world of a logical symbolon a Zhou-Li folded out like a parasol, a flaellum of whimsical leaves a domed xanadu of stringy brains Kubla Khan wore onions, Boss Tweed ate shirts, Tristan and Iseult need bossa nova (foam end the revolution!!!), Gawain and the gangrene night sips plum whine, and la belle dame sans Mersey Beat (repent repent, or rinse and repeat) gets jiggy without then lo! (not J-Lo, would that the cushions of society could last), I said unto Scotty, refer to your most septic atomic wanderlust, me laddie, inside the minute stars and starlets versed in probed and goners and what next week may bring and he saith unto me (hoot mon) be auk back at you and featherless, and he drove the real rocket into meaningless squares of flat universe whilst I, probable, and about to anoint toast, remind myself that sorties amongst those pre-Raphaelites in the next sector must settle some claim, and indeed Jeff (viz.)Harrison is confirmed of punctuation (!!), and I as a whippet travesty besqueak the ordinance after reflection and condone, and this Quarles character just happened with deadly rinse or prongs associated with Cardassians, heliopods? quogga? rapsheet??? what evs, and Spock fucks with some switches, twirls a couple of eyebrows, sends sausages of ethos humour out of his gasbag, warns Sulu of great auks and smiles on the feet of Uhuru, meanwhile on another platter far far from here, Kirk grows over the smoky remains of mescal, or Aztec maybe? or at least he had an inkling, while laying a framework for a conditioned response, suitably intellectual and mindbent (sort of like Blue Cheer in a garden and it is summertime you asshole), but further than that let us wait till some frantic television inscape corrects the marginal comfortably, this tube shall pass --LQ and AHB continuing past the 5 post limit--
i.m. Raphe Malik
i. m. Raphe Malik To begin when I'm weary can't decide an answer to a bewildering question I ask his music for its opinion... And the answer is always immediate and clear. I asked "Hightail" if I should take a job And it answered with its tigered orange blacks high above rooftops swept billowing in breezes among golden leaves And I knew I had my answer. I asked "Invocation: Spiel City" if I should pick up and move to a new town and it answered with: an innersong of a thrush Venus in ascendance halftones of reality specifics of the imaginary the particolor of it all And I knew I had my answer. I asked "Chaser" how I might make it through allmy ages And it answered with: reflect on piled-up cumuli the koi's snap for crumbs each afternoon's surrounds thread the maze ripe to seize And I knew I had my answer. I asked "Dominant Predicate" what kind of a father I might make And it answered with: learn and then and only then teach the robin's egg sky hold candles to firework's raised riddle it out come to terms re-read every scale And I knew I had my answer. I asked "Civilization after Coltrane" about the future of the world And it answered with: Part the night of orbs in galaxies those congeries of word and light eavesdrop OTHER civilizations a-prism every heartbeat there and hang your Helios beneath the monkey-puzzle tree AND I KNEW I HAD MY ANSWER! Always, his music plays for me in unison in wisdom-- each song shakingits head and smiling-- "Whatever leads to joy... since afterall, so much of it is these days, in such short supply" they always answer. And whatever his music says I'll do. Gerald Schwartz
Re: i.m. Raphe Malik
Gerald Schwartz wrote: nice poem, Gerald. nice too to see you posting. Allen
Sierra Club RAW: An Online Revolution
Title: RAW: Uncooked Truth, Beyond Belief Having trouble receiving our e-mail? Try adding us ([EMAIL PROTECTED]) to your Address Book. And for a plain-text version of this newsletter, go to http://lists.sierraclub.org/Archives/raw.html Issue #159 April 6, 2006 An Online Revolution Orli Cotel, RAW Contributor A Chevy Tahoe speeds through a breathtaking vista of glaciers and mountains. But despite the peppy music playing in the background, this is hardly your typical car commercial. On the screen, the words flash: "Are you addicted to oil?" Is Chevrolet waking up to the dangers of global warming? Not quite. But they are getting a wake-up call from the thousands of consumers who are using Chevy's new "create your own ad" website to send their own environmental message to the company. When Chevy decided to launch a program for consumers to create their own TV ads on the company's website, they hoped it would be the next big thing in 'viral' marketing. But the tactic backfired, and the young, potential consumers who are the target of this kind of "user generated" advertising provided a different kind of copy: "Global Warming Isn't a Pretty SUV Ad," "$70 to fill up the tank, which will last less than 400 miles. Chevy Tahoe." "Our planet's oil is almost gone. You dont need GPS to see where this road leads." The sublime irony of pristine wildlands being ruined by gas-guzzling SUVs on Chevy's own website has created a much bigger buzz than just friend-to-friend emails; the New York Times was even forced to ask whether Chevy knew what it had gotten into. So if you've ever felt torn between daydreaming about a career as a famous director or a world-changing environmental activist, your moment in history has arrived. Check out Chevy's website, and your own eco-directorial-debut is only a few easy clicks away. What's more, if you send us your entry at [EMAIL PROTECTED], the best Chevy ad from a RAW reader will win a free package of organic Sierra Club chocolate! Today, do your part to stop global warming -- one fake commercial at a time. Check out our related blog posts on Compass: "Branding Chevy" and "Chevy No Va." RAW is the Sierra Club's weekly e-mail update in which our team of Sierra Club correspondents bring you humorous insights about environmental stories you won't want to believe. Subscribe to Sierra Club RAW. Unsubscribe from Sierra Club RAW. Is your e-mail address changing? Let us know to ensure that you continue to receive Sierra Club RAW. Simply send an e-mail to [EMAIL PROTECTED] and be sure to include your old and new e-mail address in the message. View previous editions of RAW at the RAW Archives. Donate to the Sierra Club. Want to keep up with the Sierra Club's latest activities and news? Sign up to receive Sierra Club Insider, the Sierra Club's flagship e-newsletter sent out twice a month. The Insider provides everything from information on new reports and issues to planning great hiking trips to how you can help change environmental policy. View recent editions of the Insider at the Insider Archives. Sierra Club | 85 Second St. San Francisco, CA 94105 | www.sierraclub.org Sierra Club85 Second St.San Francisco, CA 94105www.sierraclub.org
as god is my witness i am invisible
as god is my witness i am invisible vanquished every second from the presence of sight evanescent site and languorous possession god is my witness and god will lean back god's breath is visible through eyes shut tight at the center of every lotus my empty hands my bony hands my hands of many bones my hands are insatiable my hands drink the sound of the world they strangle young peddlers and seize their bread and water these words write themselves in the sound of an unknown language the steep road passes through jungles of iridescent flowers my palms press my eyes my eyes press my palms unseeing unlooking unsounding the presence of hearing the presence in the sight of god of an always dying man
Re: as god is my witness i am invisible
Wow, Alan. Thank you.Alan Sondheim [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: as god is my witness i am invisiblevanquished every second from the presence of sightevanescent site and languorous possessiongod is my witness and god will lean backgod's breath is visible through eyes shut tightat the center of every lotus my empty handsmy bony hands my hands of many bonesmy hands are insatiable my hands drink the sound of the worldthey strangle young peddlers and seize their bread and waterthese words write themselves in the sound of an unknown languagethe steep road passes through jungles of iridescent flowersmy palms press my eyes my eyes press my palmsunseeing unlooking unsounding the presence of hearingthe presence in the sight of god of an always dying man
