for Ophiel, my old cousin, and the next 5 years or so...
Some bitches say:
"Aunt-Sally"
"Aunt-Sally"
"Aunt-Sally"
"Ball-and-stick model"
"Ball-and-stick model"
"Ball-and-stick model"
"The good folk, the Socialists"
"The good folk, the Socialists"
"The good folk, the Socialists"
"Here's a new song from the Orlons, Not Me.."
"Here's a new song from the Orlons, Not Me.."
"Here's a new song from the Orlons, Not Me.."
"Wolfgang Palaver on _The Sacred Game_"
"Wolfgang Palaver on _The Sacred Game_"
"Wolfgang Palaver on _The Sacred Game_"
A Dream:
So I go into this men's bathroom at the airport to take a whizz. It's sort of
late.
I've just arrived. The terminal is nearly empty. So I go into this men's
bathroom.
Maybe its DFW, maybe San Francisco?
The room is totally black. The lights are off? No. Everysurface in the room
is covered in a shimmering image of a starfield. Every surface is a screen
showing
a film of the night sky, some night sky. I'm not an astronomer at that point.
I don't see Orion's belt. I don't see the Little Dipper. None of that, just
stars.
I realize there is a deep pitched vibration, a low frequency sound modulation;
WUM_WUM_WUM.. From the very last stall, a very bright light is coming forth,
a very bright light. I've rounded a corner. I can see a pair of bare feet in the
traditional position of the crapper, not the toilet, the crapper.
Suddenly everything is being sucked into the light. By "everything", I guess I
mean all the angles and lines and spaces and shapes that make up the idea
of "bathroom". At some point I see a completely white silhouette of someone
stand up, all the angles and squares and spaces of the bathroom are gone.
There's nothing but empty space and stars and a brilliant white silhouette
standing. Like a black hole. There's nothing there anymore but a white hole
in space shaped like a human fugure.
William James:
The great point is to notice that the oneness and the manyness are absolutely
co-ordinate here. Neither is primordial or more essential or excellent than the
other. Just as with space, whose separating of things seems exactly on a par
with its uniting of them, but sometimes one function and sometimes the other
is what comes home to us most, so, in our general dealings with the world of
influences, we now need conductors and now need non-conductors, and wisdom
lies in knowing which is which at the appropriate moment.
The Giant Valley Girl:
Like, Ethos, which means 'cave of your inner being', I mean, wow,
Like, Ekonomik, like as nomos, nomoi
Like,
Theoroi:
So after they had woken, they had woken. and very tired still. Maybe
they walked for awhile. They walked. Someone had some olives.
Someone began to play a pipe. Sing to Zeus someone said.
Then this huge Cyclops girl came barrelling down the road on
her motorcycle wearing a meat scarf. One Theoroi cried, "Dude!"
Moral:
Those same meander patterns can be used for tire-treads.
My Father's Face:
while I watch from my window, this shack
in a scrap of meadow
going to woods--
Some bitches say:
"John Hetherington"
"John Hetherington"
"John Hetherington"
"A Sea-Grammarsh says Faburlic"
"A Sea-Grammarsh says Faburlic"
"A Sea-Grammarsh says Faburlic"
"Voon"
"Voon"
"Voon"
