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Saturday, December 31st, 2011
3:28 am - ransom eli olds
and I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I started fighting for
it's time to bring this ship into the shore
and throw away the oars, forever
'cause I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I started fighting for
and if I have to crawl upon the floor
come crashing through your door
baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

current mood: apocalypse

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Monday, February 14th, 2011
12:19 am - castles burning
blind man running through the light of the night with an answer in his hand
come on down to the river of sight and you can really understand
red lights flashing through the window in the rain can you hear the sirens moan
white cane lying in a gutter in the lane if you're walking home alone
don't let it bring you down, it's only castles burning, just find someone who's turning and you will come around

current mood: mental maps

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, January 27th, 2011
12:37 pm
Bruce Berry was a working man, he used to load that Econoline van.
A sparkle was in his eye, but his life was in his hands.
Well, late at night when the people were gone he used to pick up my guitar
and sing a song in a shaky voice that was real as the day was long.

Early in the mornin' at the break of day he used to sleep until the afternoon.
If you never heard him sing I guess you won't too soon.

'Cause people let me tell you it sent a chill up and down my spine
when I picked up the telephone and heard that he'd died out on the mainline.

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, December 30th, 2010
5:21 pm - makes me think of two
Old man look at my life, twenty four and there's so much more. Live alone in a paradise that makes me think of two. Love lost, such a cost, give me things that don't get lost. Like a coin that won't get tossed rolling home to you. Lullabies, look in your eyes, run around the same old town. Doesn't mean that much to me to mean that much to you. I've been first and last. Look at how the time goes past. But I'm all alone at last rolling home to you.

(creating permanent daylight)

Friday, November 5th, 2010
6:58 pm - sensory-extinguishing

current mood: XIX

(creating permanent daylight)

Friday, July 9th, 2010
3:32 pm
Wasted and complacent
and you about the same
but still I want to get it
on with you tonight
when I was a little boy
I laid down in the grass
I'm sure you'd feel the same
if I could fuck you here tonight

but I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up
I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up
but it feels like I'm in love again
oh it feels like I'm in love again
though it feels like I'm in love again
with what you do

if we made it happen
I'm sure what we would do
run outside and fuck someone
to show it didn't mean a thing
seems it could be simple
if I could just grow up
never gonna get it now
cause I'll never grow

but I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up
I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up
but it feels like I'm in love again
oh it feels like I'm in love again
though it feels like I'm in love again
with what you do

but not with you
(keep on telling myself it's true)

current mood: devchonka

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, July 8th, 2010
12:56 pm - 10trix.nvr
'It's also a concept piece, a painting of a modern household where the outside world's violence pours in through the cable lines, the domestic haven contaminated by toxic data: "The mom's sucked into CNN, freaking out about Code Orange terrorist shit, while the kid is in the other room playing Halo 3, inside that weird Mars environment, killing some James Cameron–type predator," he explains.'

(creating permanent daylight)

Saturday, June 26th, 2010
4:06 pm - holy bible time
what is the bible like, now let me think
it's turquoise blue, it's neon pink
it's a golden lion head
with a mane of doves
an ocean of song below
a dome of wisdom above
and there is no evidence
no explanation why
there is no compass
no key
just a bible sun in a bible sky
so stand atop the bible til your tears run dry
it's holy bible time, holy bible, holy bible time, holy

the bones of the bible beneath the sand
of a holy region, a holy land
where a holy species of holy forms parade
from day to night, from night to day
until those sleeping bones blown clear of sand
stand and walk upright with upraised hands
and with arms and legs, with skull and spine
dancing out an alphabet
a mighty creation sign
so stand atop the bible til your tears run dry

cherish the bible, guard it with your life
cleaving one to the other
like a husband and a wife
grind the bible into a polished lens
to scan the heavens from end to end
alone with the bible, as alone as you can be
and when the heart's eye opens, you can begin to read
and if you know the bible then you have seen
there is nothing in it to believe
but if you take the first step and walk inside
you will find
it's a magic wilderness where you can thrive
so stand atop the bible til your tears run dry
it's holy bible time, holy bible, holy bible time, holy

what is the bible, the book, now let me see
it's a perfumed stone, it's a dancing tree
it's a listening wheel, a speaking road
and with joyous footsteps, I am coming home
stand atop the bible til your tears run dry


(creating permanent daylight)

Friday, June 11th, 2010
3:07 pm - spell of the sensuous
"So, that was very much the intent of the book, to bridge the gap between the world of the imagination — the kind of magical world of these indigenous, traditional societies — and the world of academia, the intelligentsia, and the scientific elite. But I didn't want to do that just by writing a scholarly or scientific analysis of indigenous, animistic ways of thinking. I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to do an animistic analysis of rationality and the Western intellect, and to show that our Western, civilized ways of thinking are themselves a form of magic."
-ecology of magic
via fenris23

(creating permanent daylight)

Friday, May 7th, 2010
10:27 am - 29
I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it

You know I dreamed about you
for twenty-nine years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for
for twenty-nine years

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, April 22nd, 2010
4:42 pm - song for aster
met a man of energy
suppose it doesn't work
lantern man,
find an inoperative halo
tossed inside a field
in your crystal ball
was he ostracized,
injured, or castaway
in a playhouse?
hoops and hairpins

grow alone,
have to know your conjurer,
a spinster kept checking for a special clock remover
but now we're out of time,
secret star of heavenly bundles,
firmly confirmed yesterday

send no more joy,
no more light,
no more danger,
it will always come
to wish for you to fall,
to wish for you to burn,
to wish for your return

(creating permanent daylight)

Sunday, April 4th, 2010
11:11 pm
'inspiration embodies the idea of being possessed by an entity that is unknowable
but whose unknowability passes through oneself in a manner that produces action as a byproduct
of the passage.'

(creating permanent daylight)

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010
2:42 am - æ
λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο

"Symbols and myths constitute the active aspects of fate. If fate equals language,
then fate at its most complex and sophisticated is the ever growing, ever changing, multitudinous
language that exists throughout the universe in every conceivable and inconceivable form. But
fate as language, in its most primordial form, is a dimensional system. The simplest dimensional
system consists of exfoliation into states of the absolute aliveness of the one into the many of
absolute death, the kenosis of being; conversely through the meta-death of the many emanates
the infoliation back into stages of consciousness toward the one, the gnosis of becoming.
Symbols and Myths are the portals between the extreme stages, or dimensions, of kenosis and

ἑαυτὸν ἐκένωσεν

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, February 25th, 2010
12:52 pm
atoms.for.peaceCollapse )

(creating permanent daylight)

12:35 pm

(creating permanent daylight)

Wednesday, February 24th, 2010
4:40 pm

(creating permanent daylight)

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010
7:07 pm
my daughter sleeps up in the trees
my daughter is a complex creed
my daughter keeps a shaft of light
my daughter moves in degrees of might

current mood: now I have a house

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, January 14th, 2010
7:28 pm - prismatic room
Been building my life out of distorted fragments
Absorbing light through a prismatic tomb
My mind imbibes the city's madness
Projecting worlds on the walls of this magic room
This magic room
My prismatic tomb
This prismatic room
My magic tomb
When I conjure memories
They feel like someone else's
Mere unconscious currency
I adhere to my reflections
Been building my life out of distorted fragments
Absorbing light through a kaleidoscopic tomb
My mind imbibes the city's madness
Projecting worlds on the walls of this cosmic room

(creating permanent daylight)

Friday, January 1st, 2010
6:47 pm - wu-hsin
Body like dry bone,
Mind like dead ashes;
This is true knowledge,
Not to strive after knowing the whence.
In darkness, in obscurity,
The aimless mind cannot plan; -
What manner of man is that?

current mood: hector 3

(creating permanent daylight)

Monday, December 28th, 2009
4:22 pm - a thread
this eranos group is interesting, jung was a member, sounds like the original/euro esalen..

got to that reading about f david peat, the synchronicity guy that pinchbeck referenced..

got back to him via searching for 'nothing is true, everything is transmutable' and finding this weirdo/interesting site..

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Monday, November 30th, 2009
1:34 am - sephiroth
tohu va bohu

laffoley's tree of life

current mood: sandalphon

(3 turquoise hexagon suns |creating permanent daylight)

Friday, November 6th, 2009
1:06 pm - story for aster
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers --
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean.
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pré.
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

(creating permanent daylight)

Sunday, November 1st, 2009
5:26 pm - poem for aster
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

-William Butler Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, September 10th, 2009
12:23 am - the fest
that time a yr agin..


sneak preview list..


some picks..Collapse )

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Wednesday, September 9th, 2009
10:21 am

current mood: melancholosity

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Friday, September 4th, 2009
10:56 am - ripped by reality
love is the king of the beasts
and when it gets hungry it must kill to eat
yeah love is the king of the beasts
a lion walking down city streets


(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, September 3rd, 2009
12:20 am - vorticism

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Monday, August 24th, 2009
12:07 pm
tohu va bohu

current mood: rosebank 22

(1 turquoise hexagon sun |creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, August 20th, 2009
1:32 pm
Sister say a prayer for us one we learned from nuns and such
I won't believe not a word you speak just make it sweet to hear
Let's pour wine in coffee cups and drive around the neighborhood
And shine the headlights on houses until all the news is good
How am I supposed to sleep? Roaming blackouts on the streets
Oh not a word not another speech we'll run the headlights down
These kids are foaming at the mouth psychotropic capricorns
Tomorrow's some kind of strangerland where all the news is good
How can Monday be alright then on Tuesday lose my mind?
Tomorrow's some kind of stranger who I'm not supposed to see

current mood: 131 ppm

(creating permanent daylight)

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009
3:07 pm - the algorithm: idiom of modern science
came across an interesting computer scientist while doing some research..  bernard chazelle.. great article on the power of the algorithm: the algorithm: idiom of modern science. makes some bold but convincing predictions -

“The Algorithm's coming-of-age as the new language of science promises to be the most disruptive scientific development since quantum mechanics.”

tohu va bohu

(creating permanent daylight)

Thursday, August 13th, 2009
5:56 pm
more rushkoff goodies..
"Economics Is Not a Natural Science"
Life, Inc.
going to be interesting to read his latest after having just read cyberia from 94..

(creating permanent daylight)

1:14 pm - old media and liquid history
red this article about 4chan.org by rushkoff the other day.. led me on a belated exploration of the roots of the new internet culture, social networks, and internet memes..  just sitting in /b/ and hitting refresh produces a weird sensation of the weight of the internet space.. posts every few seconds, like liquid information, the oroborus's fangs approaching the fangs.. I suddenly saw how these boards evolved into blogs, then twits, then waves, the speed and granularity increasing exponentially toward the singularity..

also red some old media commentary like the new york times article on trolling, lulz, and the Anonymous collective..  so that's what those guy fawkes kids were doing outside the hubbard recruitment shop..

I think my historical birfurcation theory is indeed unfolding.. alternate infobibles are erupting like gnostic accretions, the false-true prophits of the infocalypse..

the info is dirty, lo-fi, low signal to noise...  it comes off as a kind of frantic-indifferent scream-whisper..  maybe this hyperinsulated ironic-satiric aesthetic is a result of overcompensating for the relative lack of expressive power in the virtual space.. the language is emulating our old gestures, tone, and presence..

(creating permanent daylight)

Wednesday, August 12th, 2009
11:51 pm - miasmal smoke
Donated her eyes when she was young and shy,
hated her awkward breasts and filled the yawning skylines with kisses
sweet, to hear existence beat, to hold it tangible and drifting,
ever so gently sifting summer sky, donated her eyes, donated her eyes
to feel her actual senses, oh sweet 16, to feel what life was like,
donated her eyes to feel life as she imagined it

Go back to sleep you yellow bellied freaks, afraid of God and modern science
Go back to sleep, if I could only sleep, if I could stop imagining if my dreams weren't after me
Through piss and sweaty blankets, the deafening hum of some great silence
The jingle jangling heat, the strangling sheets, terrible and fucking meaningless

(creating permanent daylight)

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