Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

1996 poem

The Operation
How I spoiled my concentration
searching for the option
to keep my brain from drowning
waiting for an operation
I spent time deciding, designing
The number 1 operation
Continuous equation (infinity sign)
Short spitting writing
Is there no use finding
Inspirations have expired?
Gulping and drowning
No sign of the sun for fire
The moon and stars' way to conspire
Too many rhymes
Feel like Nice and Smooth
Ha. Gotta find that groove
My endangered imagination
Writing phobia
I need an examination
Before the operation

The Beast


Wikipedia is the indulgence to my fleeting passion. I love the idea of pagans. Every six months or so, I have to look up witches or werewolves or some name I happen to think of that has to do with alternative religion. Aleister Crowley, Sybil Leek, and Madam Blavatsky are the most recent persons of interest. However, the interest is waning....When it was waxing, I felt that I was getting close to the truth. I don't know what truth but some truth. This seems highly comical given that these people were also thought of as frauds. Oh well, leave it to me to find truth in the fiction. It's true though, you can! You can find truth in about anything. It's like star dust or Sandman's sleep, it's a residue from your comprehension of that truth or knowledge you are trying to find. A little truth, a little knowledge. Maybe I'm equating knowledge with truth. That can't be possible can it? Is all knowledge true? Is all truth knowledge? If an adopted child doesn't know she is adopted and thinks her adoptive parents are biologically related, that knowledge to her is true, yet it is not factual. Is what one thinks knowledge? Is knowledge only defined as a knowledge in what is scientifically based to be true. What is fictional knowledge? Oh god, I have to quote Nietzsche, "Mystical explanations are considered deep. The truth is that they are not even superficial." I just googled Truth and Knowledge and this quote was from the first site on the list. It goes with my rambling nicely. I will get back to fictional knowledge or false knowledge in a minute. I want to go back to truth real quick-- if someone feels that something is true and believes it, is not a good basis for truth because feeling and believing are not tangible or that feeling and belief of an individual does not always agree with the common thought of every person. I still have a hard time with thinking that feeling and believing should have no credit in knowledge. It seems to discount our instincts--feeling something is apart of our instincts, isn't it? Aren't instincts scientifically based? Why are feelings so often deemed as mystical? What about belief? Is that an instinct? It seems like our logical brain needs to organize what we comprehend and has chosen belief as one of it's systems. Why is belief not scientifically based? Is all scientific information based on a common fact? Why not individually? Is it too hard to test? I admit, the testing would be expansive, but to totally discredit something that has been a part of human life for thousands of years is irresponsible, isn't it? How long have humans felt and believed?
Back to False Knowledge. I just started rambling on this blog and then I decided to Google some of these ideas and what do you know--there actually is such thing as False Knowledge. In fact, the majority of philosophers believe that there is no such thing. That's just it though, isn't it--that's what they believe. Do philosophers count belief? AHHHH, this cyclical pondering! I will not give up, I must know!!
What I was saying in the first place is this: even if you read something that is fiction or false still some truth can be gained.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Birthday Tea Party


Celebrate old people
That see other dimensions
Especially if they have the ability t
o slip into
This consensual dimension
You may find Mother Burgers
made for some hidden army
Hiding perhaps in that cool attic
That frequents my dreams
Everytime it's always a surprise
I'm always intrigued
To slip up and explore
It scares me sometimes
There's something there
Something that inspires fear
My attic is my brain
And vice versa
Mamby pamby story telling is for Assfaces
So stop
O.K.
Tourrettes is good for the dementional soul
Keep in mind it's their right
Let them flow, let them go
Let them see cats
Maybe ol' Spooky they ran over on accident with their car
For years they sat at the kitchen table with nothing to do
Never speaking a word to a grandchild playing w
ith pencils like they're people
Gendering lead writing utensils
By the paint the pencil company chose.
Play for hours among the bookcases
That housed an enormous collection
Of National Geographics and Reader's Digest compilation books
Maybe a few Jesus hands in the mix of the decore
Pushed together like I Dream of Jeannie
Hours.
Each shelf a floor of a pencil apartment
Class roles
The best pencils get the posh shelf
How did I decide?
What was pleasing to me of that penthouse shelf?
Was it that smooth, cloudy, milky dove figurine made of unknown firm, heavy material?
Only a grand pencil family would have that as a statue
Years.
Maybe a newer, cooler pencil
Only stopping for the only words that were known anymore by grandma
Informing statements of regularities
Lunch.
Then later as I got older and taller and she older and smaller
The way she looked up at me
I began to baby her and hide from her
The reality of me

Particle of Beethoven









I will not share my particle of Beethoven
Not the way he did anyhow
The muse of song is in me
Music is always in my head
I used to think it was mine
Now I think it is his
He was able to portray the music in his head into notes
I can only hum and sing made up verses
But I let the music fly on the wind
I never bottle it up and keep it to share
Most every song is forgotten
And new ones perpetuate
Am I doing Beethoven a disservice by not sharing his speck of muse that’s inside me?
I think not.
I am enjoying it, I love it and cherish the moments when the music comes
Which in most times is to fill a dull void in the day
For example, waiting for the bus
Beethoven chose to share—that was his calling—not mine
It is by pure chance that my mother inhaled an atom of his genius and passed it on to me as I floated in her belly
My calling today is to share with you that
I harbour a particle from Beethoven

Throwing God


I heard this story second hand and was told it is true.

The old child dueling game, Rock, Paper, Scissors has a championship tournament. Really. Anyways, included in this championship, was a freestyle "rock, paper, scissors" tournament. This particular freestyle throw off, between two opponents, became historic in RPS circles when one of the throwers spread out his arms and threw Space! Everyone was awed...you know, this never happened before. What could possibly beat space? His adversary mulled it over and knew. Making a circle with both index fingers and thumbs, he threw A Black Hole! A Black Hole definitely beats space, hands down. This display of creativity and genius nearly put the crowd in hysterics. How do you beat a Black Hole? What is possibly big enough to eat or defeat a ravenous vacuum that sucks up whatever is near its mouth? The clever hero made the momentous call in just enough time to win the throw off. He flung his arms out like a bird or an airplane...and...

He threw God!

Apparently nothing beats God. So he won.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Read Like Peter Lorre


Entropy
Chaos Theory
Catalog and Collect
Religion
Organize
All for comfortability.
Safe, oh so safe
That's all we want
Holding our arms
Rocking in a chair
Safe, now, oh so safe.
No.
Chaos Theory
Entropy
Butterfly flutter
Eyelash blink
Waves travel
Pushing air
Pushing molecules
Miniscule explosions
Causing wave after wave
It's all alive
Humans move through life like a mitochondria in a cell.
So much action
All in orderly chaos
Composition of a symphony
Timing, timing, timing
I don't know what to do next.
Any ideas?
Swim in the air
And water
Accept the waves and create your own.

William Powell

I Love William Powell. Well, maybe I love Nick Charles. That is how I was introduced to this ~1920-40's actor. You have to watch all the Thin Man movies. He's magnificent as a flat foot with a taste for booze. His wife Nora, played by Myrna Loy, is spectacular as a sweet and sassy woman who wants to get in on Mr. Charles private eye gig. A scene I just saw the other day killed me, the humor is overt, but still I was nearly crying I was laughing so hard (I had to laugh like hell -KV). The scene is in the second installment of the series, Another Thin Man. Nick Charles is over at his wife's older relative's house having dinner. As was custom from the old guard, after dinner the men and women separate into different quarters. The scene in the gentlemen's after dinner quarters begins with Nick, drunk and professing, "You Amaze me!" the camera pans over to the old gentlemen who are obnoxiously snoring. I'm not really doing this scene justice, because it's the way William Powell says, "You Amaze me!" that cracks me up. Wow, I'm a really horrible humourist. I've even read "How to tell a Joke" by Mark Twain, the best humourist there ever was....I guess I won't be who ever will be. Anyways, William Powell was engaged to Jean Harlow when she died. See the Jean Harlow entry on her last film. You Amaze ME!!!

Jean Harlow

Saratoga was her last movie. It's really great--Clark Gable is a fast talking smart aleck with a heart of gold. Note the film work tricks in the scenes at the end. You don't see "Ms. Harlow's" face. It's kind of spooky.