Protein Squinting

What’s the use?

Don’t dismay!  The structure of amino acids will help you infer!

                Determined by the sequence from different species, like primates, like bacteria, 2 proteins can perform the same function, an evolutionary relationship? An evolutionary relationship! The implication of this individual functional unit we find in nature, complex sequencing, beyond its normal function, pro-proteins, an extra sequence, like glycosylation, or a cell that says ‘no’ outside the cytoplasm, like an anti-body, recognition? Edman degradation fragments indirectly, routinely sequence, rapidly, DNA, decode into the protein sequence.  Reiteration, if the functional sequence spits out initially, can we tell post translationally?  Some side-chains cannot be changed at the end of the day, you can still check by mass spectrometry if this is ‘good enough.’ The Gene, The Proteome, the functional aspect of the nucleic acid, the origin.

                Nature acts to protect us.

              

                Stimulating anti-body production (get-away-from-me)

                The epitope is the part of the protein sequence that is going to represent the antibody, politically.

             

   Heavy-chain, light-chain, everything is covalent, produced from 4 separate polypeptide chains, the tertiary structure, a why-like shape, it doesn’t function in recognition at all, it helps the binding interaction take place.  Zoom in on that structure so you can see where it binds.  Red and Blue chains, both peptides are present in this domain, my FAV.  Flexible domains have more than two events take place. How do we make use? Immunity? We can form risky antibodies in your own rabbit, Polly Clonal. The rabbit (Polly) gets injected as you were once boosted.

We don’t know what’s appropriate.

Nature can do this efficiently.

The antibodies are built up in Polly’s blood. Higher-order species have developed many efficiencies.  Centrifuge serum, anti-serum, anti-bodies, all anti-gens to which Polly’s been exposed, they just exist there, figure that out.  Pictured up here are Polly Clonal’s rabbit anti-bodies, differently colored epitopes, red triangles, blue squares, green circles, a non-uniform (racemic) mixture, heterogeneity, why would we use these?

Pictured down here are Mona Clonal’s antibodies.  We’ve selected one predictable dose and response with different affinity. Most cells that produce antibodies have a very short lifetime.

Cancerous yeasts are immortal.  They don’t die.

Multiple myeloma is what we take advantage of.

We generate Polly Clonal’s antibodies, red cells, these will die, these (others) live, hybrids…Just blue, just red, blue and red together, the hybridoma cell line, one type of DNA, one type of antibody.  Polly Clonal is different from Mona Clonal.

Why do we care?

We can make use of precise analytical or preparatory chemistry, very small amounts, quantification, a read-out, fluorescence spectroscopy, affinity tag, the way that would work: a column format chromatography. Detection fits in with tracing.

E.L.I.S.A.: Enzyme-Linked ImmunoSorbent Assay.

The connection between enzyme and an antibody.

Signal detection? Tracer enzyme. Link. Better. Smaller. Direct. Backwards. If it sticks, we have a catalyst. Schematically what’s happening? Red dots are antigen, stuck to the walls of the vessel. Wash. Introduce antibodies. Wash. Introduce enzyme. Wash. Use the laser-dick. (A lot of steps are required to get it up.  That’s why we have designed Elisa. She’s good to us. She’s easy. Routine. Less work.  Sold easily. My precious…) Sandwich Elisa, she recognizes 2 antibodies, same antigen.  Make an elaborate assay, spectral readout, western blotting liked to electrophoresis (SDS-PAGE). You think that one of these bands is a specific protein? Radioactivity tag/auto-radiogram or Elisa, or fluorescence can also be used. That’s it for antibodies.

Cubans are pretty good synthetic chemists.  Not as good as nature. Nature puts out (more than Cubans?). But you can play tricks on nature that nature doesn’t do, unnatural substitutions. Synthetic peptides, short stretches of proteins can be made in a day, like a plant function, formylly, with Formylmethionine.  Higher-order mammalian (live-birthing teet sucker) cells intentionally make polypeptides. Vasopressin. ADH. Increase or decrease urination? Whatever’s functionally useful! Induce for treatment, roses full of loaded thorns. Desamino (take away) remove N term, split. We can do tricks like this to what was otherwise a natural material.

“Quaedam remedia graviora sunt quam ipsa pericula.” – Seneca

(Certain remedies are more grievous than the dangers themselves)

Scio a Carmene

We do well always and everywhere to give You thanks and praise for the glory of His church, who laid the groundwork for the form designs (icons) Whose window blueprint a glory box with radio antennae for a cross on a steeple.  Redress the graves of those who went before us to increase the rates of rolling corpses there, in the system, and thus calculate the rates of disapproval against the binary standard by the invisible Hand of the proper authorities who properly sort papers, action amended.

Persistent in perpetuity, the lucrative species evokes the necessary responses requisite to form desired outcomes. ‘Cause loyalty to the institutional standard that derives power through obfuscation filters, a CREAMy crust that forms on the surface. Erratic logic diagrams of binary log (decision-making prefrontal cortex) of peaks and troughs, signs of logically low posits of uncertainty.

“’Say at last – who art thou?’
‘That Power I serve
Which wills forever evil
Yet does forever good.’”

Goethe, Faust, from Bulgakov, M., The Master and Margarita.

The phrase ‘hooked up’ is an urban colloquialism that comes from the Christian notion of Jesus being a ‘fisher of men,’ and thus, there comes an appreciation for being caught in a net presence of divinity. In science, however, the calque comes from ‘Hooke’s Law,’ which creates dual meaning, wherein the body being acted upon is being upwardly elevated not as from a force from above, but being pulled from a force from below.  The alternate urban notion to having been ‘hooked up’ follows the physical notion of having been ‘sprung,’ wherein the body achieves the physical state of achieving upward mobility in an imagined sense, psychologically associated with an object used to ‘get high.’ Furthermore, in the Christian sense of the word, the alternate position achieved by the body put in motion has an indefinite recurrence to its former position (pendulously), whereas the use of the sense of the word derived from physics presupposes a repositioning due to gravity or some other form of periodicity inherent in the mechanistic act, (where the body having been sprung upwards is sure to fall). Thus comes confusion arising from the religious sense of belief based on orthodoxy (‘right belief’) and the scientific sense of the phrase that is based on method or habit, viz. orthopraxy (‘right action’).  What is the science of ascension?  (Quantum rockets.)

Time is Chaos: We're all Doomed!

All quotes from Spengler, O. from The Decline of the West.

“Yellow and red, on the other hand, the colours of nearness, the popular colours, are associated with the brass timbre, the effect of which is corporeal often to the point of vulgarity.” P133

“Astonishment at alien motion is the source of religion and physics both; respectively, they are the elucidations of Nature (world-around) by the soul and by the reason. The ‘powers’ are the first object both of fearful or loving reverence and of critical investigation.  There is a religious experience and a scientific experience.” P200

“The outcome of a Numen is a Deus, the outcome of a notion is an idea…Every myth of the great style stands at the beginning of an awakening spirituality…” p201

“The Roman felt that the claim Yahweh to be recognized as sole God had something atheistic in it.  One God, for him, was no God, and to this may be ascribed the strong dislike of popular feeling, both Greek and Roman, for the philosophers insofar as they were pantheists and godless. Gods are bodies, of the highest type, and plurality was an attribute of bodies alike for mathematicians, lawyers, and poets.” P203

“All these deities more and more came to be felt as a single numen, though the adherents of a particular cult would believe that they in particular knew the numen in its true shape. Hence it is that Isis could be spoken of as the ‘million-named.’ Hitherto, names had been the designations of so many gods different in body and locality; now they are titles of the One whom every man has in mind.” P206

“That this ‘force’ of ‘energy’ is really a numen stiffened into a concept (and in nowise the result of scientific experience) is shown by the often overlooked fact that the basic principle known as the First Law of Thermodynamics says nothing whatever about the nature of energy, and it is properly speaking an incorrect (though psychologically significant) assumption that the idea of the ‘conservation of energy’ is part of it. Experimental measurement can in the nature of things only establish a number, which we (significantly, again) named work. But the dynamical cast of our thought demanded that this should be conceived as a difference of energy, although the absolute value of energy is only a figment and can never be rendered by a definite number.” P210

“All that has happened on the way from Newton to Faraday – or from Berkeley to Mill – is that the religious deed-idea has been replaced by the irreligious work-idea.” P212

“When Nietzsche wrote down the phrase ‘transvaluation of all values’ for the first time, the spiritual movement of the centuries in which we are living found at last its formula.  Transvaluation of all values is the most fundamental character of every civilization. For it is the beginning of a Civilization that it remoulds all the forms of the Culture that went before, understands them otherwise, practices them in a different way. It begets no more, but only reinterprets, and herein lies the negativities common to all periods of this character. It assumes that the genuine act of creation has already occurred, and merely enters upon an inheritance of big actualities.” P181-2

“Culture and Civilization – the living body of a soul and the mummy of it.”

“Only a sick man feels his limbs.”

“As soon as life is fatigued, as soon as a man is put on to the artificial soil of great cities – which are intellectual worlds to themselves – and needs a theory in which suitably to present Life to himself, morale turns into a problem… It had become necessary to discover, to invent or squeeze into form, as a rule of being, that which was no longer anchored in instinct; and at this point therefore begin the civilized ethics that are no longer the reflection of Life but the reflection of Knowledge upon Life.” P183

-------------------

                All of my belongings, my indelibly ascertained objects of management ideals strewn efficiently in a blinking bucket for all-time’s sake. So current it’s almost predictive of the future status of things as they lie. Lying blinking inert.

                The albino horrorshow freak, face all mouth, no eyes. There was a time when I canvassed forests, mountain ponds, and hours of walking trail; back when? Back before the freak roamed. Much like the freak, whose judgment is blind and whose punishment is swift if he sniffs out a couple campers unawares in a pitch tent making whoopee racket when the freak upends the polyester from the terpene tarpaulin and tin stakes and sends a camper rolling back down whatever height climbed to get there, short way to the bottom, rock, tree, and then down the gaping wet white maw that is the albino’s mouth all slobbery for sapiens. Man’s knowledge of the freak extends all the way back to the Garden whence Adam tamed it and named it Gary.  Gary et apples from a particular tree that gave Gary an appealing reek, ponderously from the very fruit he consumed. Adam had leashed Gary the freak to the forbidden tree where he maintained happily blind and tethered. The fruit from the tree was known as Gary’s fruit, not simply because Gary ate from the tree, but because Gary ate whatever or whosoever haplessly gobbled the possessive apples in his sleep.  Whatever ate from the tree would subsequently produce a signature scent with which the freak associated his appetite. Gary would loosen himself and sometimes run a marathon in pursuit of whatever creature was unfortunate enough to nibble its way into Gary’s grove. Gary mostly feasted on worms, boogers, and apples, until one day…

Sun Tzuzaphones converse.
Terror: an advanced state of panic.
Terrorist: a vertiginous construction worker.
Terrorism: a monument dedicated to the panicking.
Skyscraper: Long-term scaffolding.

Dissenter to the Times Literal translation pled ignorance to knowing antennae stations of the cross with syntactic religious iconoodles executing smellings alt. Delete screen with me falling asleep in front of it.

“Since Newton, the assumption of constant mass – the counterpart of constant force – has had uncontested validity. But the quantum theory of Planck, and the conclusions of Niels Bohr therefrom as to the fine structures of atoms, which experimental experience had rendered necessary, have destroyed this assumption. Every self-contained system possesses, besides kinetic energy, an energy of radiant heat which is inseparable from it and therefore cannot be represented purely by the concept of mass. For if mass is defined by living energy it is ipso facto no longer constant with reference to thermodynamic state. Nevertheless, it is impossible to fit the theory of quanta into the group of hypotheses constituting the ‘classical’ mechanics of the Baroque; moreover, along with the principle of causal continuity, the basis of the Infinitesimal Calculus founded by Newton and Leibniz is threatened. But, if these are serious enough doubts, the ruthlessly cynical hypothesis of the Relativity theory strikes to the very heart of dynamics. Supported by the experiments of A.A. Michelson, which showed that the velocity of light remains unaffected by the motion of the medium, and prepared mathematically by Lorentz and Minkowski, its specific tendency is to destroy the notion of absolute time. Astronomical discoveries (and here present-day scientists are seriously deceiving themselves) can neither establish nor refute it. ‘Correct’ and ‘incorrect’ are not the criteria whereby such assumptions are to be tested; the question is whether, in the chaos of involved and artificial ideas that have been produced by the innumerable hypotheses of Radioactivity and Thermodynamics, it can hold its own as a useable hypothesis or not. But however this may be, it has abolished the constancy of those physical quantities into the definition of which time has entered, and unlike the antique statics, the Western dynamics knows only such quantities.” p419

Jungian Sidewinder Durations, Ornaments, and Imitations

Oil, essentially, hedges bets that engine size and aromatic output will make big cities smell like French whores before long car-dicks compete for the stinkiest automotive necessity for fucking.  Guilt is wastefulness, the feeling that overcomes the binged spirit, if only it weren’t ad encouraged to binge on commercial things!  Spoiled children feel rebellious and act lazily.  Tanning sidewinder feeling/sensing Jungian law, radiating the Sun of this world below gets the wrong idea about Omar Rodriguez Lopez, General Schwarzkopf, and non sequiturs.  “Do not, I beg you, look for anything behind phenomena,” Goethe, from Decline of the West, Spengler, O. p84. “They are themselves their own lesson.” Denial of my own Jungian intuition takes me outside the red zone, another football Sunday brain scrape. I’m imagining contusions in running wonder pads.  Rhetorical cynicism silences what was never there to begin with, and from nothingness, disbelief suggest zee polish antithesis, a cleansing.  In situ machine errands spin me, describing a sentient clock ticking, tocking, or cycling?

                What is not good?  That which is open to debate (‘that’s rhetorical!’).  High-demand serum, high-potency essencier (attuned to the local freakwensee) that the local freak went to see, attuned to the particle vector vibrations, nose all atweek.  Feel-good ways blast awhile before regularity claims subservience, nowowned by me, completely fragmentary to debate, taking both sides, seeing Janus, possessing and being possessed, giving and taking, no apologies, we all strive for our own perfection, even if it be at the hands of another (et tu…?)  Interference…thoughts…feelings…action necessitates…

   

             Christmas durations adorn a Douglas Fir, decorated especially for the 25^th imitation of the December imitations, desinence (“termination or ending; as in the final line of a verse”).  What luxury for the worth of sacrificial ideals? What slaughter, what umbrage would abdicate duration of loss-leadership?  Hard-heart distillation, off with the head, keep a little tail for complexity, aging potential.

               Go on, Tight-face, you emotionless, detached wad, you easy reader.  La fin du monde, celebrating civilization’s end, my New Year conflict resolution, tomorrow’s ornament, imitation, mirror modification.  ‘“I’m afraid,” she whispers. “Everything. My face in the mirror—when I was a child, they said not to look in the mirror too often or I’d see the Devil behind the glass…and…” glancing back at the white-flowered mirror behind them, “we have to cover it, please, can’t we cover it…that’s where they…especially at night—“’ Pynchon, T. Gravity’s Rainbow, p444.

               Who’s baby?  Whose interpretation?  How can I get through to her, especially at night, surrounded by cats, the Devil’s intermediaries, walking in her father’s footsteps, blind, smarting...

                Meanwhile, I run around photographing fall forgiveness, a rainbow in the sky, hoping to capture God’s abstract sense of humor, aperture gaping, making a change to make it seem as though there had been no change.  What is Forever maintaining?  Keeping it up… I pledge allegiance to a ghost in the night under covers.  I maintain there’s nothing I could know for Thomas’ sake.  Damned if you know, blessed if you don’t.  Hell, my primary education, kindergarten, where I lay smack.  Bully Bestoy, racing marbles, who’s first?  There can be only one in series and sequential imitations.  Dusty dreams, old saws, my problematic wing, more garments, more pests (pestilences, I think, they want me dead).  The sacerdotal mass debater, objection homily, on encouraging differences, schisms, leaving behind hot Aryans.

                

112815 who are you?

Who is my audience?  What is an audience?  A people who hear!  In this medium, who read?  What does read mean?  Read: come again?  Like readmission, ‘let me in again!’  I remember this one time at Brown when I got kicked out of a Santigold Spring concert because I wanted to go from the quad to grab my flask, but the gatekeepers were like, ‘no readmission!’ and I’m like ‘are you high too? This is Brown University, educational institution, and isn’t reading your mission?’ I grabbed a fistful of tickets from the stub bucket and took off running, but I wasn’t about to get lost, so I was escorted out. “You’re outta here!” I remember this one lady in a yellow staff jacket saying like a baseball umpire as I went back out the gate, and there I was alone in upper Providence killing time.  Oh well.  I got my rum.  Early mushroom memories. 

To answer my own question, reading was not their mission that day, it was to secure borders.  (Borders® is a funny name for a bookstore, shouldn’t it be Borderless?)  I understand we are all working in a closed system, necessarily, for the physical laws of conservation of energy to work as scientists know them.  Am I the only one who doesn’t want to get physical?  Let’s not get rough.  Meanwhile my hair’s thinning.  But why should I care about what anyone else thinks when people don’t care about what I think?  I used to be a trendsetter.  It was all a trick.  It was a mind game.  War crime mines destroy gams.  Why would anyone manufacture mines and who else would bury mines for their intended use?  Under duress I could understand, but who wants to expose another to duress?  Ask Duracell I guess.  Min-D cup Gams blow up, doll.  This is what I think, like Jane’s Addiction, that Sex is Violent! (Admit it, Ted).   Who’s Ted?  Says Dave, “See, I brought a vibrator for my girlfriend in a sex shop in New Orleans on the way to a sound check. I was showing it to somebody--"Look what I bought!"--and I turned it on about a foot away from the pickup. It went "Neeeowrr!" It was the coolest thing I ever heard. I Velcro it to the side of my amp and use it for "Ted, Just Admit It" waving it all over the pickups with the echo and wah going.” Guitar Player, 1991.  Who doesn’t love a good vibrator story? Useful too, audience!

One problem I have is that I have all this old shit writing from the past eight years saved up and I suppose that’s called hoarding.  I want to get rid of most of it now.  Much of it is tied to not particularly good memories, like this one lonely memory of crapping into a plastic bag because I had diarrhea from taking three antibiotics for chlamydia and my roommate who let me sleep on the floor of his high-rise apartment occupied the bathroom so I had no other choice.  Bury me with it.  I passed this test of being to think rationally on the spot and solve a problem I had never been exposed to before the time-limit expired and my friend made an embarrassing discovery, and really what would the consequence be?  That I’d have to hear about it for as long as I knew this friend, as a competitive male, this type of information is not to be kept confidentially, and I really hate redundancy, even though I often live it in action, not in imagination.  And although this piece of fecal history resurfaces, this is the first admission.

The Lord of Fuck understands the risks.  There are some dirty, cheap whores out there who want it in the ass for Five Guys.  That’s how good those burgers are.  I was only horny the first time, but she was horny all the times.  It may not have been what I wanted, but it was what I needed in retrospect. I was looking for a dirty, cheap whore, and in another way I was a DCW myself, but that’s not the way it was in my mind when I approached the situation.  I hadn’t conceived of a world in which love was to be so toxic before, but this was because of phallic hubris.  I didn’t think! I was drunk! I was a willful idiot!  Thinking highly of myself, despite lust, an animal nature.  I thought ‘lust for life’ was supposed to be a good thing, but I’m just discovering that entire concept is based on a fruity Iggy Pop song and an old moving portrait of Van Gogh by Kirk Douglas.  ‘I’m not your audience!’ through denial!  What does the Lord of Fuck understand?  Don’t drop the bowling ball!  It’s Saturday!  

30th Birthday Playlist!

Modern Media!

Movies:

Big Eyes

Caterpillar

Detroit Rock City

Willow Creek

Creep

The Atomic Cafe

Emerald Forest

They Live

Music:

Robert Hunter songs

David Lee Roth – California Girls

Atlas Sound

Panda Bear – Person Pitch

El Guincho

Diane Coffee

Nada Surf

Radarada

Violent Femmes – Add it Up

The Internet – Ego Death

Grimes – Art Angels

Words:

Cartouche – a hieroglyphic oval with a horizontal line at one end.

Tai-gi-tu – Symbol for the concept of Yin and Yang

Book:

Woman on the Edge of Time

Artist:

Julia Fullerton-Batten

Simple Movie Idea:

Carpool: A collective group of friends, semi-environmentalists, and semi-hitchhikers set in various cars, bars, and cafes.  Just trying to get places in no real rush.

Places:

Tonga Room – San Francisco

The House on Garibaldi Street

App:

Periscope

Talk Radio:

Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me – George Clinton

Ancient Architect:

Bramante

Modern Artists:

Nash
Klee
Mondrian

Shazams:

The Rapture – House of Jealous Lovers

Joanna Newsom – Sapokanikan

Kurt Vile – Pretty Pimpin

Peter Gabriel – Games Without Frontiers

ROXY MUSIC – Love is the Drug

Big Sugar – Turn the Lights On

Dirty Projectors – Gun Has No Trigger

My Morning Jacket – In Its Infancy

Made Violent – Two Tone Hair

Chvrches – Keep You on My Side

The Bird and the Bee – Will you Dance?

Paul Heaton & Jacqui Abbott – The Moulding of a Fool

The Bamboos – Black Foot

Galactic DRAGNs and Future Taboo

Addiction compartmentalized, set and setting aside time to make the chemical shift recovery of a precessing gyroscope nutating off to Death’s cousin.

Big bangers smash the “prevailing cosmological model that describes the early development of the Universe,” against the alternate, Infinite Universe Theory / Continuous Creation Theology / or Steady State (politics), inspired in the “Dead of the Night” (1945), that blackbody redshifting away (or blueshifting towards) ab-ad infinitum, faithfully, passionately, and most importantly, without compromise, 3C 321 smiteth the DRAGN with the same oldness problem which I have a (Grand Unified Theory) GUT feeling started in the Gutenberg Galaxy with the formless potential of Anaximander.

The currency of expression, opposed to the current metric of productivity, also, “an opposite to the state of chaos, that of cosmos” (DotW p47) incontrovertible control, maintenance awake behind the wheel, and situationally aware? (I want you to be here but you’re not, you are haunting, ghosting, and white striping.) Anglo sentiments live within incontrovertible security locks, but are balding, fearful, yet strikingly aggressive when the guard’s guard is down, in the company of blood, or when there’s an opening, (a god to disrespect).  Becoming the proof which lies in the recesses of superstitious human thought, our mathematical make-up, our subconscious backdrop, what we’re supposed to do, how we’re supposed to look.  Follow instruction and master emotion or refute discipline and undermine your own true intentions, a hurricane in a teacup, a narcotic prognostication, future taboo.  Honi soit qui mal y pense.  “The highest to which man can attain, is wonder; and if the prime phenomenon makes him wonder, let him be content; nothing higher can it give him, and nothing further should he seek for behind it; here is the limit” (DotW p72) (“…the prime phenomenon is that in which the idea of becoming is presented net.”)

                With a head full of heedless security, not thinking about death, but the great West Egg/East Egg debate (new money vs. old), with a funny frying pan for a wife, and his luck from the presses, he wakes up with a hard-on he doesn’t know what to do with.  His wife, the old hamburger patty, repels, so he puts his muscles to work clearing the evacuation routes, make way for 7am traffic, 12/22/12, by shoveling the driveway of first powder.  Conservation of energy would suggest that he simply plow his wife, but he really likes his muffin, and he knows that the best things in life you have to purchase, family capital ‘F’.

                The Russian does not fight Capital; he does not understand it…a people which should have lived for many generations more without history was forced into a false and artificial history of which the soul of Old Russia was incapable… the Russian has freed himself from Western Economy. To him, thinking in terms of money is a sin…The sword is victorious over Money, the Master Will defeats the Plunderer Will.

                Money is for the man who knows not what he wishes to obtain.  What to watch? What to eat? Lasagna or quiche?  Why not both? What games are on? What games could we play? (Teikei?)

“Hateful Haiku”

Hate the referee

Who hates reading the rulebook.

Hate makes history.

                The problems many are possessed by, such as being in a way in which many celebrate the holidays through the giving of possessions produced by machines, efficient decision-making through Mecca, Morocco, and other markets.  If it weren’t for hate, nothing would get done…presumably, presumably I have to do something in order to live, but I have nothing to do but this corrupted poetry, mutated verse, and perverted refrain.  If the skies can open, so can I! As it is, I’m frozen inside my robes from the outside winter and I wish I had a retail flamethrower so that I could melt my future and run my present on coal.   “The machine forces the entrepreneur not less than the workman to obedience. Our unlimited need to serve, to follow, to honour someone, true as a dog, blind in belief in spite of all obstacles.”

I AM CLEPSYDRA ENTELECHY!!**the perfected water clock

                “What is important in life is life and not a result of life” (Goethe, from DotW p16).  If I had thought for a second that I could have died and kept on living the same way I was with her, I would have.  Fact is, self-preservation sympathetically catalyzes the strong to fight and the weak to flight.  Minute intellects regret life, romanticizing death’s door-to-door delivery service, sympathetic to the fight of the strong and to the plight of the weak, pity.  On the front porch in a rocking-chair, rocking a double-barreled shotgun to threaten the scalawag slyboot off mutton choppin’ like some blessed kike on Christmas wondering what it’d’ve been like to get it all at once, (What’s mine is hours, Eureka!).

                “Now! Mother.” stomped Shirley Temple’s brat form in black gloss shoes, white stockings, a princess dress, and a pink tiara, wanting her little pony in the worst way possible.  Goodie two shoes depravity, a comedian torments her cute curly-haired sensibilities to give her a good cry.  Lip smack, shrugs, like “What can I do?” making a waitress of a table-turner without the wit to retort.  Eating scum-sucking catfish for the price of heat, fever forever, homoeothermic half-shark, half-human, skin like alligator, at home with heroine and, ubi bene, ibi patria. 

                “A small number of superior heads, whose names are very likely not the best known, settle everything, while below them are the great mass of second-rate politicians-rhetors, tribunes, deputies, journalists – selected through a provincially conceived franchise to keep alive the illusion of popular self-determination.” (DotW p27) “Where there are no facts, sentiment rules.” (p30)

                The tequila mockingbird parvenu was a racy wonton dog, an animorphous mass of swiftly contested celebrity.  The punisher and the angel who loves punishment, naughty girl, the monster in the cherry blossoms, she glides though scenes, musing feelings, not screaming, although that would be a nice finish, bemused. Ender’s Jacuzzi, Pocono college beverage joint, perhaps Piggy the butcher would have appreciated more, loved more, wanted more, looking forward to the next rush, pushing the limits of cognition, memory, and memorability.  Ender’s mender, o so tender (cat soup, meat without wonder) Itchy + scratchy yellow-headed functionality, family tune din to a talking girl with her perky nub who positions bed knobs, polo painting scenes, and Libra balances with gold leaf, copper ceilings, baby, out at the club like a seal in the laser lit macabre, light glistening off blood glistening off silk sheets. Still strangely sensual without her facilities, hers was a history of having had not-not, oh yeah.

DotW stands for Oswald Spengler’s The Decline of the the West, (1922).

Frankl's Logotherapy: The Meaning of Love

Man’s Search for Meaning:

An Introduction to Logotherapy

Viktor E. Frankl

p. 176-7

…According to logotherapy, we can discover this meaning in life in three different ways: (1) by doing a deed; (2) by experiencing a value; and (3) by suffering.  The first, the way of achievement or accomplishment, is quite obvious.  The second and third need further elaboration.

                The second way of finding a meaning in life is by experiencing something, such as a work of nature or culture; and also by experiencing someone, i.e., by love.

The Meaning of Love

                Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the very essence of another human being unless he loves him.  By the spiritual act of love he is enabled to see the essential traits and features in the beloved person; and even more, he sees that which is potential in him, that which is not yet actualized but yet ought to be actualized. Furthermore, by his love, the loving person enables the beloved person to actualize these potentialities.  By making him aware of what he can be and of what he should become, he makes these potentialities come true.

                In logotherapy, love is not interpreted as a mere epiphenomenon* of sexual drives and instincts in the sense of a so-called sublimation. Love is as primary a phenomenon as sex. Normally, sex is a mode of expression for love. Sex is justified, even sanctified, as soon as, but only as long as, it is a vehicle of love. Thus love is not understood as a mere side effect of sex but sex as a way of expressing the experience of that ultimate togetherness that is called love.

                A third way to find meaning in life is by suffering.

*epiphenomenon – a phenomenon that occurs as the result of a primary phenomenon.

Jacob's Eudaimonia Sustains US

Dietary companionship:  A diet of having food in rooms with other people exclusively.

10/27/15

1115 lunch with Doug

I had left my bag in his car, not that it had anything too important in it.  All I used from it in the time it would have not been available to me was a book by Carl Jung about symbolism and dreams.  I was convinced I could have gone without reading it today, boy was I wrong…boy was I wrong!  Male child, was I incorrect?  Politically correct assassin, there is no other recourse.  We talked about our mutual obsession with looking at forum bill posts about our collective invested interests.  How was I to know that the pizza they serve at D’Avolio’s would have been as good as it was?  Well, to be correct, I’ve had it before, but this was the most delicious cheese and topping array to date with just the right about of sauce and spice.  It really made me feel better about having had diarrhea in the morning.  I hate being sick.  I hate stomach upset.  I hate headaches.  I think hate is okay when directed in the direction of discomforts that most people feel similarly about.  Although I have not taken an official poll, it is my belief that practically every person hates sickness, nausea, and sadness of the head.  What’s wrong with hating malady?  Anyway, I expelled large amounts of feces at one time, and it was uncomfortable, not as uncomfortable as previous times, but uncomfortable nonetheless, and it exhausted me physically, so that I had to go back to sleep at about 8 after being up since 5 in the morning.  For that reason I didn’t have too much to say at lunch time because I hadn’t really lived nor done much since morning except check out forums about the Nameko mushroom. 

2000 Pizza with Mike and Kaitlyn

“Many individual assorted cans” as related to cans of beans, many, arrayed.

Initial plan: Kuni’s at 7 with Kaitlyn as repayment for helping her move from place to place even though I didn’t mind.  This is when I come up with the dietary companionship plan.  I assert that every person in the world is on a diet whether they know it or not because every diet fits in with a system of beliefs about what is good and bad for the body when they decide upon what is ingested vs what is omitted in a free market environment.  Be prepared.  There is drama on the horizon.  Disrupted sleep.  I’m drinking gin and tonic to settle my stomach in the hope that it was make me feel better, so far so good.   

2100 I ate the rest of a bag of jalapeno pretzels alone, out of spite of my friend Doug’s ideology which I share, but which I perceive as a part of me I am actively attempting to deny in myself.  It is difficult for me to identify because the relationship that we share is long enough to be sure to be full of contradictory sentiments.  And that’s the conclusion I keep arriving at as I munch away at the pretzels he brought over on Thursday for televised Sunday football. 

2315 Mead with Dan and Mike during the World Series, Game 1.  The Mead was supposed to be a gift for Nicki, but I had picked up the tab at breakfast the day of her birthday, and she never claimed the gift I told her about, but forgot.  And like I said, my stomach was feeling off that day, and I had done research about what foods have antibacterial effects.  Honey was at the top of the list, being at the top of a list and the main ingredient in Mead, and fermented beverages were also in same said list, two birds with one stone, I’m feeling lucky thanks to Google.  The Jewell of the Newell from 810 Mead Works in Medina, NY where I went on a day trip with Doug and Kate, Phil and Julie (coupled off *cough**cough*). 

10/28/15

Now 0716 and I’m adding the last eighth of this bottle of Mead to my morning coffee.  I guess the reader thinks after day one I’m doing a rather mediocre diet, but may I mention that mediocrity is a form of moderation, a type I don’t believe in, even though upon reflection, I guess it is not fundamentally untrue.  We’re all destined for some type of mediocrity.  I’m focused on writing, but I could be working my body on the basement weights instead, therefore forgoing physical fitness for mental hygiene.  I’m doing a poor job of impressing the ladies’ superficial sense of aesthetics.  Oh poor me, mediocrity! Show me a sit-up!  I do seventy before my neck starts to get tired.  I’m probably doing mediocre sit-ups, having learned long ago from the worst.  What is the immortal sit-up technique?  Turn up the gravitational constant, NASA! Bring back space rock and make the Earth Jupiter!  I’m the skinny beast looking dangerous toward you in the wild, feral, the type of being that brings a chased person back to nature one way or another.  Unchaste Wolf Alice relieves Alice of life.  A new lease on life?  A new mortgage payment on existence!  Who has time for so much debt?  I’d rather remain in my moderate form of nothingness!  Who has time for absolution?  Absolutionists believe credentials doling exemption forge great human (imbecile) judgment, kangaroo legislation, monomaniacal notions, O Pine!  Questions?  Rather sensational truths unveil valor which xenon yellow zees. 

An undated flashback:

---

Those who are obsessively self-conscious hide when they eat and drink alone.  They masturbate.  I know I suffer from excessive vanity.  This is an act of willful duty to dirtiness, mud fetishist, worshiping the Halloween gourd. 

Being poor forces my actions to coincide with necessity (the way nature likes it).  Being lonely compels me to seek long-term comfort at best or short-term pleasure at worst.  Untimely occurrences with bullet-like finality obliterate peace and boredom with successional reports and blazing lights ripping apart night sky. 

Intangibles are difficult to accept without trust, trust itself intangible without definition…

Trust, n.,              1. A type of fund

                                2. an ability to accept another’s word as truth.

Truth, n.,             What is real.

Reality, n.,           What exists.

Mutant mice.

Temporal lobotomy.

When we want to see only what we want to see (no evil), we are forced to vary our vantage, preferentially, by putting ourselves over others.  This is the illusion of luck.

“I’d rather be lucky than good.”

“Yes, but lucky AND good is unstoppable!”

As a predictable continuation, a ray or pre-defined line, where all action is inconsequential in relation to its being one with a history of infinity, time a disc.

“Lie to me! Feed me fate!  Tell me direction is inherent, say something sweet, something that negates choice…”

A slow jolt of electricity descends from a white wisp in a small sky, n’er a jagged edge nor curve in its beam.  A low voltage message to joyous children in a public pool below.  What a world I would like to predict…however, here we remain, floating, face-down, fried in our man-made carnivorous habitat full of slow, straight heat. 

Whence it comes, whence it goes.
Spin a thread, sew some clothes from
finest fiber of the fluffy ewe, Eudaimonia.

If dreams were real, why couldn’t we imagine a big, juicy burger when we sleep and wake up sated?  How come I don’t dream of food?  Psychoactive catecholamine synapse secretion and associated appetite suppression?  Damned pineal gland!  If mana comes from Heaven, what about our dreams?  Jacob’s ladder is the Heart of Stairway to Heaven.  An Angel’s head stuck between two rungs, like a baby between banisters, lucid trample torture, head malleable, curiosity ineluctable. 

Definition describes form.
Form is composed of matter.
Matter has weight and is subject to certain, definite physical laws.
Definitions describing qualitative forms found in nature are metaphysic.

Hello.  My name is Daren Dugan.  I play God for a living.  It doesn’t pay well and the living’s punishable.  It’s a challenging role, being confined within an error-prone, human-formed vessel; temporal scale #24.  I say I play God in that I act like I believe God would in that I create, but I don’t create, I am merely inspired by the air that the ONE TRUE GOD has provided me.  I make choices, but they are governed by my own mistakes and experiences in that One Life that God has provided me!  How does that make me feel? High as Hell!

--

Made Violent - Dirty

A Sarcastic Title!

Source Material

When a person wants a lover to regard genuine love, it helps to be friends with that significant other first, or at least be a friend of a friend.  My confidence is part of my personality, and since the root meaning of confidence is ‘with faith,’ what is my faith?

This outward appearance looks of having a religion, but smells different.  Most religions smell of musty old incense while my religion smells of fresh kumquat.  I am a pastor in the church of Dog where my congregation finally has a place to sit and stay.  Lie down.

I have a confession to make, I’m terrible at being honest.  I am one emotional meltdown away from Takotsubo cardiomyopathy.  I always play black in chess while I desire white.  I can never have sex when I’m tripping.  It breathes!  I’m lonely and horny and I have someone in mind.  If truth were a quantifiable as well as an observable quality, I would desire to capitalize on this social exchange.

I don’t dive, I belly flop. I am the friend zone!  Infatuation is not rewarded.  Time travels. I have survived with all of my money, white dresses, and feline frenzy.

The notion of long-suffering is an idea worth complaining about.  The situation I am trying to describe involves infiltrating social circles and how easy it is for me to creep from one to another and somehow remain fascinated, a fixation in each and every one, it’s like feeling like being pulled in many directions all at once.  I understand how this can seem degrading.

I’m a flirt, I live dangerously, and I get away with it.  It’s easy to enter into relationships with preconceived notions.  Am I simply trading pleasure for pain with demons? Affirmative.

I’ve gone fishing with my BFFs, Diane Coffee, jail birds, and women I have trouble even describing.  Couples are getting married like crazy at this age!

You!

Just the other day I was hanging with Heynong Man Talkin’ Tang and about the fact that he wants to replace me as comedy host.  He spoke and it sparked my desire.  He asked, “Why aren’t you using punctuation?”  The love of my life would be shocked.  It’s still funny to deny everything.

Is it disturbing that everyone I kiss has a hairy face?  If Buddha taught me anything it’s that desire is the root of all suffering.  I put you on a pedestal (or is it a cross?).  My memory turns me on.

Nasty!  I refuse to negotiate or compromise, yet the world around us for some reason requires some kind of metaphysical navigation between extremes of virtue and vice.  Are there really no rules?!  If there really are no rules, how am I supposed to control anything!?

Emotions are confusing.  Friends reflect who you are.  Some people (Dave) sound superfluous. 

She blew my butt like Trombone Shorty on parade.  Butt cum.  “Butt chew,”…”Bless you!”  “Gesundheit!” My nose settled down for a while.  But then I sneezed again and this time I farted.  I had to bury her back at the old parade grounds like an informant.

“We bullshitted for a while.  He did all the things a nice guy would do.  I didn’t appreciate it.”

I have attachment issues.  I need someone to go over the top for me, but I still probably wouldn’t appreciate it.  I don’t want to settle.  I want to keep dreaming.  I’m tripping and it takes however many more hours for the effects to wear off.

I make poor choices sometimes.  I don’t think therefore I am not (a bride/a groom).

Mona Lisa’s frown.  Oh well, I’m hungry again, won’t you cook for me?

“But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,” Matthew 6:3 I just long for the link!

Here’s the hypocrisy.  I hope that what goes around doesn’t come around.  As long as I can still make enemies out of would-be friends I’ll be okay.  I should probably just assume that person is my enemy ahead of time.  Karma’s a bitch.

Even if there are no rules, decisions have to be made.  Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in terra incognita, my country ‘tis of thee, and in God we trust?  Perhaps, perhaps… I’m only human!  It is vitally important for people to learn from their mistakes and take charge of their own destiny.  The fate of the world depends on it!

Former Seal Anxiety

10/21/15

I dream I had:

I was a seal swimming with the seals along the coast of South Africa and along the coasts of islands off the coast of South Africa in a sea free of great whites.  However, once I realize I have to keep my smartphone dry, I become human, circumcised by technology, and before I even realize what’s happening I’m travelling upstream on a motorboat with my drug dealer with a baggy full of white tablets I also have to keep dry.  Running the boat back downstream, Marines (or were they Navy Seals?) running covert operations in the dark, they pay me no mind, under the cloak of an alternate universe where I am one of them.  They take my alter ego in for questioning, while I wait in a corrugated steel watchtower with track and field out the window and my father is on television driving a golf ball off the crossbar and through a football upright while my father’s friend clowns for the camera.

@0200

                Anxiety produced by the product of my produce, difficult to calculate under the circumstances.  I start thinking my heart is operating under conscious reflex.  There is definitely something in me that I need to reason with or fight.  A mind on smart-drugs or uppers, there’s always one extra clean-up step and I see people in public places leaving litter behind and I feel like it’s my duty to pick up the pieces like disco.  Everyone has problems, a girlfriend’s great-aunt died, it’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to connect!  If there’s anything I can do!  Bee pottery hexacomb, I don’t care about being anything, just a person who matters, as I treat others at the end of the line, as a resource for rent.  Shy from so much judgment, those who judge others invite others to judge, be unconditional not unrequited (secret to all happiness, so says the New Order Stray Dog).  And there’s always dirty money involved isn’t there?  Isn’t there?

@1551

                And now as I move past the former… the former…closer to the fully formed oyster looking for a laugh, I don’t like feeling vulnerable because I know I am and I like to forget.  Everybody but the most hardened combatants have vulnerabilities and even then…hearts and heels.  Everybody loves a laugh.  Hard to find that tickle spot?  So cold.  So heavy.  The floating soul of some vision-inducing rock on the surface of some struggled-upon planet…with so much luxury water gone to waste, now a laughing stock to aliens and a broth of hilarity to everyone else.  Alfred E Neuman’s anxious father, one generation removed, worry gives way to madness.  The music, the technology, and most importantly the medium (is the message), the external adaption to cultural evolution brought about by the eternal consciousness that strings theories that are really morphing mandalas interpreted in different ways.  Drama occurs so much in one whom humor is lacking, (often the result of prolonged dehydration), blessings to the stage performer, and curses to the lamb astray!  Who is that special person who can draw the light of the sun through a cloud?  Thinking I’m someone special through emotional wringing, feeling sorrow for myself! Indeed! How dissimilar?  Look at me growing old and sour in the cold in ill health.  People are dying during the season of my birth again!  Rig an election!  How well does the democratic process relate to self-governance on a personal level?  What general recourse does one have but in-season cauliflower?  Romanesco?

@1616

Ptoleymon!

Book intent – “the sequence of operations starts at the apex of the hierarchy with the intention of conveying the idea or message. But that idea is as often as not of a pre-verbal nature; it may be a visual image, a feeling, a vague impression.”

Onomastics – “the study of the history and origin of proper names, especially personal names.”

And so, with only a vague impression of what I wish to communicate, the sequence continues with the living God adorning all apices.  Live free (from sin) and die happily, “but this people who knoweth not the law are cursed,” (John 7:49) so through right-mindedness lives may be free from suffering and all anxiety of free speech and clear conscience seeking glory that sent me?  A mental midget in stilettos with a spastic colon and a tin twat came traipsing down the causeway.  Hipposticks!  Mastodon Nostradamus, “once you’re on the road and you have an idea of what to expect when transporting yayo, the borders and boundaries become seamless.”  Terminally determined pachyderms fucking with the brainwaves of fortunetellers and almanac maniacs in inglorious frames.  American war for attention, an English pickle, a Jersey grenade, and a Mexican standoff.  Thoughtful industrial gas holdings, bacterial digestives, acetic kombucha, onomatopoetic boom-stick, scribbling sounds, “they grow like flowers, there’s so many of them, but there’s only so many of them,” farming dreams (wide awake), speaking acronymic matrices, fa-fa free-form associative smoosh.  “There’s something bigger happening, fibril tickles, PT murmurs, fool’s Austicks (alternative gold bars), vitamin $¢hool...” buzzing on potions lightyears ex machina.  Metagnomic stereotypes, comic elegance over café sax.  Buzzing breezes from humming bees intrigued by my Old Speckled Hen, suds handicapping, mixed judgment to questionable acts bleed condensed sweat full of salt and Fe.  Private ear bass parting radial Sun king-of-all-media out-of-control in Japan.  Christian Pong-a-Long, romantic euxyl, rock currier, and French fatigue, the mere attempt at excellence is what separates most people from attaining their goals…banging Asiatic broads for some soldiers, existential ideals from other mindful men, and then there are some who enjoy being engulfed by their projects.  Acting lightly in the dark, American deviants enjoying American football socially and mischievously distance themselves from the competition with some commercial slogan, “Tortelli Suant Simmons banging mothers Zappia, wound-up, spilling neuro seas of salty sentimentality and elegiac stridency with the pipe of Prometheus,” and there’s certainly a pill for sexually diseased personalities?

Ultraviolet Quicksand Simile Droste and Origins of Seven Deadly Sins

Orthodox lions, tigers, and bears Oz Seuss Megalodon [DD1] with a hundred kilo hard-on autistically thrashing the controlled ego that watches hour-long displays of mating dominance that go unabated while the uncontrolled ego gores dancers that happen to be triplets, two of which are cyclops’.  Cyclops sez Marshal Cadenza [DD2] picks up paycheck slop in his low riding cruiser sporting masked aviators judiciously disturbing the peace in the name of the law of badged undulations.  Libido mosquitos’ blood suck the youth from their parents. These dehydrated children are far flung from the roots of the family tree, a tree of life bearing more than bargained-for fibers that make up The Fabric of the Cosmos: The Illusion of Time.  Brian Greene, a good magician name, resettles his stomach by barf-farbing gluten-gluons.  The game-changing sacerdote rolls his die and contextualizes the moving mission that is less of a miracle and more of a mirage, relatively, rhetorically speaking, asking, “If Time isn’t what we all think it is then what is Space?  Does it have a beginning? Will it have an end? Where did it come from?” three NOVA wine deep into a purple fable slurry, the ultraviolet quicksand of destiny, and an x-ray diffraction of fate.  Where did words come from?  Was it an attempt to put reason to rhyme?  Does rhyme have a reason?  Does a countertenor contralto?  Logic is like a recursive simile Droste.  The laryngeal timbre of the little voice inside my head that supersedes schedules alternates on a whim so it seems to habituate choice to control freethinking.  Freethinkers fancy themselves beats, Beatniks, and those of an anarchistic clique who reject reification, not to be rebels per se, but to abide the necessity of rebellion.  Judas I, rebel to his own cause, against the merger of sinners and saints, empire righteous in his own mind, a privatized Aceldama of dreadful associations and due discursus, the son of perdition is eternally betrayed by his own misgivings.  Military torture and the apocalypse, governmentally privatized properties surveil the residual riff-raff, hell recumbent on stoned springs.

                There needs to be new fuel for old flames.  What do I keep doing always?  The self-control freak domesticates his own soul, he stays out of trouble, and he represses suppressions into recesses forever.  There would be no courage without risk.  There would be no risk without reward.  Politicians’ policy-make, police police, and sleep soundly lying guard.  But it’s convenient to blame the taxers for my personal relationship issues for what amounts to a minor yearly concern the IRS levies on my statistics to keep me humble.  Am I vain?  Am I narcissistic?  Is it wrong to not share feelings with a woman who is sick, desperate, and a wet blanket to boot?  Insecurities and lack-of-securities are unattractive.  The former is lame, the latter is dirty.  An over-abundance of preferences is more childish than urbane.  The modern neuromartyr, rent-strapped, a victim of circumstance, an ambivalent contradiction, reminiscent of former ambitions, Hello Kitty dogma, ‘shit happens’ philosophy, “No Exit” playdate, wall sartorial, how far must I ascend to reach you, (dishabille girl)?

7/21/13

                One man’s mutt is another man’s hybrid. 

                Uber-judgy, lisped-out, high-pitched queers, smokers, jokers, and midnight tokers street-debate evangelist banner-wavers.  They get excite! When they come out of dark bar show boxes and into the light of SunChip brand sweet and spicy bbq flavored great multigrain taste! On a day so sublime!  Oversexualized street slum ping-pong up out of the hizzy fo’ shizzy keepin’ it bouncy on a rolley table.  God’s so over his geometric phase, hydro-fractal Being, He’s not doing the color thing either, sending affectionate greetings through the screen din window.

                “Mom!” her son says, showing his mother a sack of un-red onions before throwing them under a passing bus, summoning automobiles to the kitchen street, hot with carrots, celery, cumin, and eggs.

                “Your father doesn’t get it, the people at church are dropping like pensive flies before stained- glass planets.”  The should-have-nots turned iconographers with a sprinkle of chaste water onto golden crosses burn opium incense, and chant, ‘candles, candles, candles…’ mesmerized, even hypnotized by the short-term goals that fill in for long-term goals to get perpetually laid by founders who talk soup. 

                One man’s mulatto is another man’s hybrid.  Hybrid Irish, green eyes, St. Patrick’s stick-to-itiveness seized the day.  He drove the snakes away with the isle’s demons while the episcopi vagantes remain.  Blinking, backpedaling on a mountain bike o’er smooth city slopes, an apoplectic whiz kid aided my dissolution. Beyond, a jetski cresting waves.  Offensive rumors spread like the legs of a stinky French whore, “Hey! Who ‘ you callin’ a French whore in my French Quarter?” she rallies slutty troops like the easy, breezy west wind. 

                Jamz be bongo, black/African corner cataracts chaw’n ginkgo quid for mnemonics.  Gay – socially licentious – petty lawbreakers make spectacles because they are opticians who think that life is but a joke.  The mote and the beam attaboy controversy.  Multimedia adds ads, not petunias.  “Outta mmy gzarden, boy!” and out pops an Irish thumbed genie, third horseman of the apocalypse, singing, “A quart of wheat for a day’s wage, and three quarts of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!”[DD3]  (Revelation 6:6)

                A sarcastic southern city blooms Duke blue, faithful and loyal to the devil who cleans poop out of uncircumcised foreskin in baby diapers.  Tanning on the beach with the vitamin D fish out-drying their computers in the long grass near the runes of rah-rah-Raleigh.  Not just tall but bigamist, antichrist dines with swine and wears pearls.  This is not excessive I keep telling myself.  NBC Shaekarevoletta, “drink dog’s blood and die of the plague!” Back in the lab, Soxhlet, agar plates and petri dishes, syringes, a Buchi rotavapor, the drams of the drinking bird heat engine.  A Venn diagram: Eternal, evolving, or eternally evolving? A couple cogs in an ethereal mechanism of eternal truths and temporal facts that take their place among the hetaerae and polytheistic deities.

7/24/13

I have faith that my faith will save me from self-determined damnation.
What is eternal?  Truth.
Can truth evolve?  No, facts evolve and become their own truth that takes their place as a part of history in an expanding universe.
What is eternally evolving?  The content of the medium.
What is the medium?  The membrane, shell, coating, or filter through which the message is delivered unto thee.
What is the message?  The basis of understanding.
What is there to understand?  Every (little) thing and nothing at all, one.

Pain exacts its lesson, painlessness induces forgetfulness, and discipline’s disciples remember what their teacher told them to do, “Follow me,” Jesus, not on Twitter, in the flesh and blood, part of the meaning was found in the virtual, touching Thomas’ reality during the touchable times when stone masons chiseled stories upon time testable tablets that shattered at snapchat rates, one instakilogram hit the decasecond, six colossal frames per minute at speeds approaching one ultra-broadband mobile gigabit.

I have faith that standing up for what’s right is the right thing to do.  I have faith in Grassmannian tautology – the parameter of all linear subspaces of a vector space of a given dimension – named after Hermann Gunther Grassman (1809-1877) the German polymath, not to be confused with Gunter Wilhelm Grass (1927-2015) the German novelist, members of the same vector space, but in different dimensions, Germany over time, hairs all aswarth. Also not to be confused with grass, the uncontrolled substance, orange haired lady.

                The eternal mind strives toward perfection of itself within itself, a confluence of integuments and shell game in a corky husk.  Neither porky nor husky, I’m dying a rather Cambrian death, nevertheless trite, outright, and conniving.  If I could parse the words completely they’d hang me to a ‘t’ (for tree, not to be confused with the Tasmanian ‘T’ for Tasmania, which wouldn’t make as much sense in context, although they could tie me to a Tasmanian devil, the carnivorous marsupial, not to be confused with the Anglo devil that doesn’t nurse in a pouch.) Not nail me to a cross like someone holier than me who died for the abolishment of all sins and moral vices, who paid the cost, being the boss, for nicety.  Who’d believe in ascension, bee?  How does that help me pay the day’s wages?  The skin that I’m in: balding, liver spotting, and frail ZABOUT 2B ARF-rittic!  How ageist?  Is that the gist? Ageism is still a normative belief of falling into an eternal pit of condescension as the days go by when one sits at home and judges the sins that our retired fathers have visited upon their sons, reflecting Ezekiel 18, “…the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge?” atheistically, whereby you humiliate me and protect yourself which is exactly what makes it wrong and you should know me better.   Your dogma is: If it smells bad, kick it, father.  We get it, she’s fat and she smells bad, you can tell by the tissue damage and the emotional scarring, fiscal inconveniences, and who really gives a shit?  Not you, your ass is clean, and the asses of thou forefathers, be they ever bidet’d.  It’s nearly 4 (1557) and the dogs are barking and the Eth are reeling in their selfish catches for close quarters and tight budgets.  They know what I’m saying just about as well as the class-system elitists who won’t listen to good reason if it doesn’t line their pockets with something cold and hard like rigor mortis.  The deatheaters, the skull’n’bones, and those just dyin’ to be real-deal rich all know from college-level Ebonics, “If it don’t make dollers, it don’t make no sense,” or whatever that homeless Marine out of the red said…

               What’s mined is yours, landowner.  Land downers mine, unthinking of diamonds in the sky that can neither be privatized nor nationalized, two edges of the same earthly blade.  A broad, a blunt, and a cash crop forge the mettle.  The national government wages war on the private sector, deemed amoral, that smokes forbidden fruit from forbidden trees, which, like the spices of diversity, are good for one person’s health and bad for another’s, as a matter of perspective.  The active ingredients of marijuana extracted into oils and then baked, fried, or grilled into any infusible comestible for athletes, for those with sensitive lungs, or for those who aren’t too fatigued to follow a recipe or formula.  But smoking is so Kool and the kids gotta getit inem’ quick for fear of not fitting into a morbid social setting.  Shotgunning beer, taking bong rips, and blowing lines of not Coca-Cola while hootin’n’howlin’ late into the 20’s at 2. 

               It’s an us vs. them mentality, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em is the cliché, but joining their ranks is less a matter of real sacrifice and more a matter of gluttony, greed, pride, and the rest.

A proud look
A lying tongue
Hands that shed innocent blood
A heart that devises wicked plots
Feet that are swift to mischief
A deceitful witness that uttereth lies
Him that soweth discord among brethren

Proverbs 6:17-19

                “…adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings…”  Galatians 5:19-20

Gastrimargia: gluttony: lustful appetite
Porneia: prostitution
Philargyria: avarice: irascibility
Hyperephania: hybris: intellect
Lype: envy
Orge: wrath
Kenodoxia: boasting
Acedia: dejection (sloth)

Gluttire (to gulp down) praeproperissime (most hastily) laute (loudly) nimis (animals) ardenter (passionately)

Gluttirepraeproperissimelautenimisardenter.

                Homeownership: homo nurse hip, drugs Inc. are sure rations.  Logic rationally dictates that walls be deconstructed for an opener society; may the truth be heard, be made apparent, and hurt.  Strife filled strivings of a raving mad lunatic condense what the American dream means: opportunity.  Opportunity to do what? That, “They shall not build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and another eat: for as the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.” Isaiah 65:22 Shalt thou take personal responsibility for an entire community?  Thank you lawmakers, enforcers, our streets are safe, go home now, before idle hands become you, and ye order someone else to dig a ditch, fill a pothole, or plant a tree in your stead, all good work for a day’s labor that requires no ammunition.  Enforcement slaves enforce slavery.  Gentrified units collect on impoverished communities where both sides are to blame, sinners all.  Those worthy of blame enforce blameworthiness.  Cops and robbers are Hell’s allies.  Lucifer v. Belphegor; Mammon v. Beelzebub; Satan v. Asmodeus; Leviathan’s triple-header (Binsfeld, P., 1589).  And some people are undecided about the nature of unseen forces that shape our lives.

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 [DD1]‘big tooth’

 [DD2]An ornamental passage (in music)

 [DD3]Revelation 6:6

Irrational Unicorns, a Definition of Signs, and Esoteric Materialism, Etc.

I quantitatively superimpose my own superstitious characteristics on random omens or signs in order to make chance appear as though it were expected using only my face.  What did love teach me? As soon as you think you have discovered the truth, the facts change.  Just when you think you’ve had enough: the quantum parlay.  Irrational unicorns represent the unreal system of fictional characters versus the real system of nouns, things, and objects, represented by words, the abstract thing-in-itself.

Excelsior – n. fine curled wood shavings used esp. for packing fragile items. Also, “ever upward,” in Latin.

Perpetuaphoria – n. phenomenon of feeling eternal, infinite, or without definite endpoint.

Proctophoria – n. phenomenon of feeling anal, analytical, or with definite endpoints clearly established.

“Why should we allow artists, conquerors and statesmen to be guided by irrational motives, but not the heroes of science?” Koestler, A., The Sleepwalkers.

Parallelepiped – n. a three-dimensional figure formed by six parallelograms

Versehen – n. the sudden fear of some animal or object by a pregnant woman, believed to result in 

her child’s bearing the mark of it. (Jacob’s cattle)

                The noble genes of birthright were a phenotypic example of detached materialism.  There are things that are theoretically attached to a newborn being at birth that could be separated, as candy could be pried from a buggy, yet that quality of wealthy uprightness that defines a social stratum would be mathematically difficult to correlate between genes and portfolios, ported only on paper, yet no less real as a result?  Science strives to justify its supposed superiority through its worship of Hermes, Hermes Trismegistus, and the cult of hermeticism sealed in esoterica not even its adherents fully understand.  The scientific method itself was deemed fitter by its adherents, in the same vein that most subjective creations of a man can be deemed objective if based on statistics, which is the mathematics of democracy and the only true political system, so say its adherents.

                Our scientific methods, the manner in which we conduct thought-experiments establishes a provability based solely upon repetition or mimicry of a particular experimental style that leads one to an inflexible endpoint, to a particular novelty of thought by providing lucid points of containment of variables such as recipe, method, and instrumentation for harmonic intuitiveness, but discounts the land itself, or the ground it was literally based on.  Is the American race really a fondue?

                …Race, like Time and Destiny, is a decisive element in every question of life, something which everyone knows clearly and definitely so long as he does not try to set himself to comprehend it by way of rational – i.e., soulless – dissection and ordering.  Race, Time, and Destiny belong together.  But the moment scientific thought approaches them, the word ‘Time’ acquires the significance of a dimension, the word ‘Destiny’ that of causal connection, while Race, for which even at that stage of scientific askesis we still retain a very sure feeling, becomes an incomprehensible chaos of unconnected and heterogeneous characters that (under headings of law, period, culture, stock) interpenetrate without end and without law.

Spengler, O., Decline of the West p. 130-1

7/4/13   I had a dream of subjugation where I was under the yoke serving dishes to all mankind alike.  They bore down on me with their eyeballs and were filled with the holy toast!

                “I just wanted to fill your heart and soul with fairytales,” I thought wishfully, “I couldn’t break away from my weakness nor had I the power to deliver myself from the hands of my oppressors.  Surely they would catch me and beat me like a fish out of water…”  I wanted to ‘get famous’ because I thought fame would be a good reason for others, including loved ones, to love me in return…as if love needs good reason to exist.  Fame turns love into a transaction.

                She vindicates herself vindictively, making me earn every Latin penny.  Her righteous judgment teaches me things I might not have otherwise known and through knowledge I grow.  She sets me righter as a writer.  I didn’t have to say these things before and now I do.  Whenever I see the words ‘I do’ I think of matrimony, I think of wholeness, I see in my mind the combination of two distinct parts, like puzzle pieces, forming a cohesive unity.  Everything I do I am wed to and that’s a good way to look at things for better or worse.  He who denies his weakness has no penchant (save dream censorship.  She’s probably already dating my best friend.)  I have a weakness for wanting lots of friends, I also have a weakness for remembering their names.  Oh vanity of vanities, all is vanity!  Do I have the strength to call you my weakness?

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“Is calculating in the imagination in some sense less real than calculating on paper?  It is real – calculating-in-the-head.  Is it similar to calculating on paper?  I don’t know whether to call it similar.  Is a bit of white paper with black lines on it similar to a human body?”  Wittgenstein, L. Philosophical Investigations v3364

“How do I recognize that this color is red?  -One answer would be, ‘I have learnt English.’” Wittgenstein, L. Tractus Logico-Philosophicus

Silence tells no lies.  Silence cannot deceive.

Freedom abolitionists wish to abolish freedom, or the notion thereof by redefining the traditional definition of the word, by transvaluation.  For, in our world of light-dark duality, it is altogether impossible to abolish one word, slavery, without the abolition of its counter-weight upon the Libra balance, freedom.  Am I not now free to either own a slave or be a slave myself?  To enslave myself? To submit myself contractually to a state of unremittent servitude? To be placed under the yoke with whips and chains, to be in bondage?  (Not if Sacher-Masoch had his druthers!)  In fact, neither freedom nor slavery have been abolished, only the conditions have changed, just the facts (ma’am).  Slavery has become softer and freedom harder to obtain.  It is easier to become a slave and submit oneself to more desirable conditions, and yet to attain freedom, one has to separate oneself from all desire.  Freedom is more difficult to recognize in a world where liberty is masked desire.  Here we also have a political system where to be free involves alienation of oneself from the democratic majority and from the republican representation of rule.  Slave owners have evolved into faceless entities, leaving behind two-story composite stone structures adorned with Masonic symbols in technical-colors occupied by wage-slaves all living alternative lifestyles of the poor and unconfident.  Even if these adorned structures were to be attacked, there is a vast insurance-government co-conspiracy which operates on the taxed backs of the employees therein to cover any damages to structure and relocation of merchandise to another Masonic carapace in a less violent district.  The Government Employees Insurance Company (GEICO) doesn’t pay its employees commission and passes the savings where?  With the evolution of syntactic structuralism, the system of differences that is langue erodes the axon and broadens the transmittance gap.  In a world dominated by machines designed by engineers for monkeys, the mentally disturbed, disabled, and criminally inclined are put to work with an embedded sense of nationalism.  Those with middling intelligence and the middle-class, caveat!

Nothingness is unabridgable.

At a mouth of a cave, American troglodytes can be seen emptying mouthfuls of boxed food-stuffs into the insatiable gullet of gluten-free self.  Behind these equally insatiable eyes lies a mind pre-occupied with the attainment of freedom through pleasure, on the slouch-couch, alter of Hestia – goddess of the hearth – who causes one to sate thyself through one of many salty alternatives, blessing ion channels with a hearty, well-oiled crunch from thou nearest and dearest cracker or potato chip, all whilst blessing the television channels with a myriad of occipital lobe stimuli straight to the back of the head, where all the sights are stored.  Have a nice day!