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Moreorless: Hamlet w/sword in hand, Romeo on drugs
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 11th, 2009|12:16 pm] |
All.
This is a map of the route that I am taking to get to New Orleans.
Who is along the way?
One thing I need, quite seriously need, to find along the way is bungee jumping. I have an experiment that can only be performed while being thrown off a bridge.
Consider it Shock Therapy.
I'll be leaving within 48 hours.
I'm procrastinating, I know.
I lost my driving companion - so I'm on less of a tight schedule.
I'll be flying this one solo.
Anyone want to come with me?
I wouldn't mind having a bouquet of Tulips to ride with. :) |
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| Dream tarot. |
[Jun. 3rd, 2009|09:58 am] |
It is 4:30am on June 2nd, 2009. I am asleep and dreaming. John Lambert and I are standing in an alley way. There is a door ahead of us with 2 people guarding it. On John's back is 7 wands that resemble fluorescent light tubes.
"What about them?" I asked him regarding the people guarding the door.
"Here," he says, "take these."
He hands me 3 of the wands.
When it all came to mind and I understood the depth of the situation that John, as the 7 of wands, was willing to become the 4 of wands in order to make me the 3 of wands I smiled.
I held the wands proud and he grinned at me.
While I held the wands I was free to move about and do as I wished - the people guarded the walls around me couldn't see me, felt nothing when I was near, we none the wise about my actions - I was free to do any and all that I wished.
---
My basic knowledge of Tarot Cards had me waking to a warm and courageous feeling.
At first John represented the 7 of Wands.
"This card teaches not only the value of courage, but the value of fear in your everyday life [...] Or to use a more modern phrase, the Seven of Wands shows that now is time to feel the fear, and do it anyway. By facing your fears and turning them to your advantage, you grow even stronger, and ready to face the next obstacle in your path. Indeed, there can be no courage without fear to inspire it."
Willingly John gave up this position to become the 4 of Wands.
"This [card] shows primarily that, while success can be enjoyed for a while, you cannot rest on your laurels. You must never stop growing, learning, and living. This card can celebrate many things that are appropriate to the Wands suit; the initial success of a business venture, a good start at a creative project or the blossoming of a friendship or relationship."
And, accordingly, had me become the 3 of Wands
"It seems appropriate that the Three of Wands has three main interpretations, all of which seem to stand alone but which ultimately relate to each other. The first of these is established strength; success after initial hardship and difficulty. Partnership and teamwork is the second theme, particularly leadership in creative environments. This card also deals with personal virtue and respect for oneself. It shows that, when the chips are down and your have no one to help you and, you can turn to yourself for support and you will never be let down. [...] The last meaning is this card is the most powerful. The man has travelled this distance alone and, though he knows he will bring others with him in the future, no one can take away the fact that he made the journey himself. Your own virtue and accomplishments are also things that can never be taken away from you; they are always there to fall back upon in your time of need. Once you know what you have to offer the world, you can start putting those skills into practice. Never let failure set you back, learn from all of your mistakes and snatch victory from the jaws of every defeat."
---
While I believe, for the most part, that tarot cards apply the Forer, or Barnum, Effect - the symbolism of these cards were vaguely known to me prior to having this dream.
John and I have discussed our creative plans, our writing, the possibility of busking poetry together. We've discussed how all of the tar pits I've waded through over the years are being put to an end. That I am standing up for what I believe in and becoming myself in ways I never imagined.
Once where I thought the most distasteful road I could take was the one to myself - I've walked it proud.
Taking the one less travelled by to make all the difference.
This "spread" is inspiring. While I've been afraid of the New Orleans move - I feel more comforted that my subconscious mind is telling me to feel otherwise.
---
Tarot Card Sources. |
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| Open up your golden gates, New Orleans - here I come... Again. |
[May. 21st, 2009|09:12 am] |
An open letter to Pittsburgh,
I am leaving this town on June 10th, 2009 and moving back to New Orleans. I'll be living on Decatur St. in the French Quarter with John.
I just wanted Pittsburgh, and everyone I know and love here, that I am leaving on good terms.
This is something that gives me great solace.
I don't want freedom from this town or the people in it.
Pirsig said, in his afterword of ZAMM, that freedom "is a purely negative goal. It only says that something is bad."
I would agree with him.
I don't want freedom from Pittsburgh, I don't want freedom from it's scenes, I don't want freedom from any of you.
The best way I can say any of this is that I want to leave. I want to leave because I want to take a step in the evolution of my artistic self. I want to take a step in the evolution of the betterment of myself. New Orleans presents these opportunities for me right now.
I don't want this to be one of the those times where opportunity and truth are knocking at my door and I tell them to go away because I am searching for opportunity and truth.
I'll be back around to visit now and again.
My life in New Orleans is open to all to come and visit whenever they'd like to - and I hope you all take me up on that offer.
I'll see you all around.
PS. I will be driving. The most probable routes I will be taking. If anyone along the way thinks I should stop and say hello - let me know and I'd be happy to! |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 22nd, 2009|07:34 am] |
I will be reading at this tonight with Renee Alberts. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 10th, 2009|01:16 pm] |
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"I can't keep track of each fallen robin." |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 7th, 2009|02:51 pm] |
Bicycle Messenger Strap DIY.
Friends,
Do you, like me, have a favorite single strap pack that you enjoy wearing around?
A pack that carries all that you need and nothing more?
Fed up because every time you try to take it with you on a bicycle ride it always drags out into the front and obstructs your peddling?
Thinking about going to REI and buying a bike messenger bag for $40.00 - $400.00?
Well here's a little DIY I did yesterday when I became frustrated with the prospect of spending so much money.
All you need is a pair of suspenders.
Which can be found at Goodwill for about $3.00.
And -
Scissors and electrical tape. And if you are like Adam and I - you have these both in abundance in your home.
Cut out one strip of the suspenders -
And come up with this -
Fold the suspenders until you've reached the desired length, or cut them down to the size you want.
Tape, or stitch, shut to keep it at the length you want.
For durability I chose to do both stitching and taping.
Having the clips on both sides of this elastic strap now give you the ability to clip it in 2 locations on your bag and remove it anytime you want to! :)
And then that bag - aint goin' nowhere.
 |
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| Etymorphonological Approach To Poetry |
[Apr. 5th, 2009|11:20 am] |
Utilizing Etymology, Morphology and Phonology to construct a single poem while using multiple languages.
David Rowe did this with his Salamander poem.
Combine Etymology, Morphology and Phonology.
Use all languages.
David Rowe did this with his Salamander Poem -
SALAMANDER, OR: SPLITTING THE WORD ASUNDER
To get out of its way
& let the word have its say;
to allow salamander,
with its ballistic tongue,
to speak as it were
for itself...
ssssSeethes forth from between
parted lip-flesh the steam,
the humid heat,
to hiss the wheel, the salamandala, into motion.
Sa: natural exhalation
made conscious mantra
via the Tibetan lama's
art & concentration;
seed syllable born ready to spill
& to spell its semen-antics.
Sa-la-illaha-illa-allah-mander
Sal: first step of the blessed meanderer,
samana en desultory route to salvation;
Philosophic salt, it aggravates
our thirst for experience, which is to say: heartbreak.
Saltatory salmon of wisdom which
puts fire in the poet's belly,
the Promethean liver, iron-rich
& ever nourishing the birdsoul.
Then again, the homeopathic salve, salicylic acid,
flame-fighting febrifuge.
Sala: inside-out "Alas," sigh
of affirmation-in-spite
-of-everything, a solemn cry
of mercy realized as grand merci,
universal love chosen as armor
by the jilted paramour.
Maya's cherry which secretly
bears the stone-seed of Buddhahood,
sal-om-mani-padme-hum-ander.
Salam/Shalom-Ander: a benediction: "Peace-to-Man;"
passionate man of peace
amidst passion's holocaust,
Word on the cross, Word in the manger.
Sa-la-illaha-illa-allah-mander
Salome: ekstatic maenad, tender
-hearted wetnurse & blood-crazed render,
strip-dancing the shamanic mandate,
at each of hell's seven almond-shaped gates
shedding a veil until she's translated
to the Muses' Mount Helicon
having made vulnerability
her most venerable ability,
having forged her foibles into fables,
beheading the ego— "Sauft alle mit einander"—
& thereby midwifing the death-in-life/life-in-death cycle.
Soolam: black stone which proves pristine dream pillow & golden
ladder to heaven and back.
Sal ammonica: piss & dung of pilgrims' camels
refined into life-promoting fertilizer, rebel's
& reveler's explosives, smelling salts to awaken consciousness.
Sacred/Taboo Untouchable, Outcast destined to cast out our sins & demons.
A la the dervish performing his turning (sema),
the salamander is the genius of emptiness (sama)
generating wings & taking flight (samara), finding
purchase in the doorway of King
Solomon's Temple:
Sa-la-illaha-illa-allah-mander
I am
I am that
I am that I am.
The highest cause of everything is living
within the thing itself,
verdant word as wheel & whirler of the wheel,
Dharma-chakra come full circle back to mysterious "S,"
death-tree shading Zeus' birth-cave, amphibious
alphabetic agent both of hissing demise & of plurality:
ssssSalamanderSssss. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 5th, 2009|08:35 am] |
General observation this morning.
When looking at my roommates XBOX system I noticed that what turned the system on was a round button presenting the, possibly universal, symbol for power.
I remembered representation of a hydrogen molecule -
- that looked very similar to the symbol for power.
It was the symbol that Sagan and the gang used on the Pioneer 10 Plaque.
For whatever it's worth - this is just a fun observation connecting the universal understanding of power and, as the Pioneer team hoped, the hydrogen molecule. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 4th, 2009|12:49 pm] |
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Why do I taste metal when I feel fear? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 30th, 2009|10:11 am] |
Being a conscientious vegetarian/hippie type, I always wonder about waste and what is necessary to toss and what is not.
Food is easy. If you are not going to eat it give it to a homeless person, toss it in the woods, compost it, don't waste it in a plastic bag.
But I've always wondered about the parts of food we throw away.
I always eat apples in their entirety. Stem, seeds, etc.
I did my research and no, there is not nearly enough cyanide in apple seeds to cause any sort of effect on me.
I quite like the challenge of the hard bits of the apple too. Especially the stem.
One day, a few years back, I sat staring at a banana.
The way I always ate them was to snap them in half and then peel from the middle.
But this banana, on this day, for some reason had an appetizing looking skin.
Accordingly I ate the banana whole. Skin and all.
Today I was thinking about that banana and did some research and found that banana skins have no poor side effects either.
As long as it is washed, or organic, nothing bad can come from it. It will even help clean out your guts. And the high levels of potassium aren't bad either.
I started doing some research again and found that most fruit skins are not bad for you at all.
I think I'll go test some more waters about eating fruits in their entirety this summer.
I'll report back with findings.
Anyone else have any experience? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 29th, 2009|02:10 pm] |
Something I don't understand but wish to is time.
The way that I see it is that "time" is a word and, consequentially, a "concept" used to describe something outside of ourselves.
When I look at a word I always feel a small sense of being cheated out of he reality of the object that it is attached to.
I first had this feeling when I saw a photo of a pack of lions.
A Pride.
The lions, in a group or family, are called "A Pride" of lions.
All words, each in this entry and in that photo of the lions, are man made symbols represented as noises or written graphics to convey information.
The lions were here, however, long before man started to speak thus they are no more a "pride" than I am capable of claiming that I am a velociraptor.
To call a pack of lions, for example, a "coffee" of lions is quite silly. But calling them a "pride" can, argumentatively, be considered equally silly.
I wish no longer that a Pride of Lions be called such. In fact I wish that they would switch their title with crows.
Yes, that's it. I feel we should have a Murder of Lions and a Pride of Crows.
Either way - it is language.
Does this make sense so far?
What confuses me and drives me to want answers is the concept of time.
What is it? What is the word? Was time, this invisible concept, here before man began to speak? Was it "time" before we spoke? Or was it merely a passing of moments? A transition from one physical space to the next? One giant moment. A spacious-now. Did people "age" or did the elastin simply corrode and breakdown naturally throughout the course of ones existence?
Does time exist? How does it exist? What are the difference between spacetime and time?
If it wasn't until 2000 BC that the Summerians created a sexagesimal system, then isn't it safe to assume that we could have had any other number of systems?
Etc. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2009|08:54 am] |
Last night I did a reading.
I didn't advertise doing it for, really, no good reason.
The reading was for Greensburg-Salem Highschool.
They asked me to come out, read some poetry, talk some poetry, talk to some kids, get them motivated to read and write more poetry.
I was more intimidated by this reading than I've ever been.
Teenagers scare me now that I'm no longer one.
About 20 kids showed up with their parents and teachers.
I asked how many kids were obligated to be there and the answer was - none of them.
It was thrilling to see so many kids interested in poetry.
They asked me to come back to the school and talk in the classroom with the kids about poetry.
At the end all the kids gathered around me yelping and screeching and smiling - and I was doing the same thing.
It was a great night. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 18th, 2009|10:49 pm] |
Hey look - Allen Ginsberg played by James Franco and Neal Cassidy played by Jon Prescott in the 2010 release of HOWL.
Not only did I throw up in my mouth but I'm also getting a pretty bad migraine from smashing my head against the wall. |
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| Motorcycle die-aries. |
[Mar. 13th, 2009|07:37 pm] |
"Now everything changed. My childhood world was breaking apart around me. My parents eyed me with a certain embarrassment. My sisters had become strangers to me. A disenchantment falsified and blunted my usual feelings and joys: the garden lacked fragrance, the woods held no attraction for me, the world stood around me like a clearance sale of last year's secondhand goods, insipid, all its charm gone. Books were so much paper, music a grating noise. That is the way leaves fall around a tree in autumn, a tree unaware of the rain running down its sides, of the sun or the frost, and of life gradually retreating inward. The tree does not die. It waits." - Hesse.
My motorcycle, Tes, for the most part, died.
So many things were wrong that I started to feel a little discouragement.
John and I spent the past week repairing what we could.
With the gas tank off to get to the carburetor we spray painted it black.
We fixed the gas leak. A device snapped. We fixed it. The taillight had a short in it. We fixed it. The throttle was all sorts of fucked. We fixed it.
She rides - like new.
Everything we did to the bike - everything made her all that much better.
I've decided that, with all of the new/better that we did to the bike, she deserves a new name.
Tes, this metallic squawking Phoenix, burns to the cigarette ash and fallen bits.
...
When Emil first went to college he met a woman who changed the course of his entire life. He only passed her on the streets a few times. He dreamed about her often. He drew her portrait. This portrait later turned into the face of Max Demian. Her name was Beatrice. And Beatrice can be shortened to - Trixie.
What a name for a bike. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2009|08:52 pm] |
It's 8:52 Pm on a cold cold Pittsburgh night.
I live in Manchester/North Side area.
Where is the closest place that I can drive to right now to get plastic to put on my windows? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 5th, 2009|09:01 am] |
Just wanted to inform everyone that my room in our apartment on the North Side will be up for rent soon. Contact Adam if you are interested.
It's 300$/Month.
Not a bad deal - for those of you who have visited.
:) |
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