Saturday, September 26, 2015

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?

--

“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!

Friday, September 25, 2015

Mnemonic Devices and Pussy Blood in 711

Day-after technique, hangover Plan B, can we bend a night further?  A tribunal discussing the topic of abortion, is abortion a fear-based decision?  A win for the pro-life, anti-fear campaign.

       Whatever I did to deserve these things, let me remember, so I can do it again.  Being chucked up upon by a vain opportunist instead of being checked up upon by a hot nurse, the former thinks she can play both sides unnoticed.  There’s more to hit here than the eye can see.  Every so often I come to recall some certain piece of information that I cannot recall at the moment because my mind is just stringing words along at the speed of a second.  A second or so…it’s difficult to tell, the beat of my heart, the music in the room gives a figure.  There is music everywhere, sometimes in silence!  Composed of the world, a rest note, a life, a string, an instrument of the Lord.  Rap of God, you tick-itty-take away the sins of the whir-whir world, have mer-DUH! Mercy on us, we who are invited to His table in His name. 

       I get so obsessed wondering and worrying if I’m doing the right thing that I think that I want to do something that I know is wrong, so that by the incorrect laws that govern moral relativity, I may be more fully unsanctified!  The struggle is unreal unless you’re lifting.  Power-hungrily, the criminally-minded rape-meditate and manifest Dick Wolf scenarios on the little screen, a channel over from a Pokemon breakdance spinning on a number of broken down beat boxes.  Attached to crudity and filth, the mentally unhygienic act on the things that they think they can get away with until they think that they can get away with more and more things until they get caught, stopped, arrested, and wrist-slapped!  Shared suppositories!  An anal safari!  ‘We’re all kinds of animal,’ master geneticists presuppose and manifest (in their minds) birds of paradise.  Chronic inflammation, the stay-puffed parrot, parakeet, or lovebird shiver shakes raindrops all over the loveseat, stomach (the acid seat of Ibuprofen) risk-kay and lungs risk-bee for Baltimore Bronchioles (nevermore!).  So many painful mnemonic devices, like a dildo minefield, fucked to death near Guantanamo’s Mr. Garrison (of troops) over a basic territorial border dispute.  The world is a competitive nightmare to the unmotivated, under-motivated, or easily dissuaded.  This is a lovely day!

       Extremes of belief ripple-effect from those regarded as the highest of powers in our society; popes, presidents, kings, and all kinds of celebrity, human icons and idle idols of indolence, doling Meccas to the furthest believing tourist.  They all arrive there, big from traveler’s inflammation, or as a bodybuilder might say, ‘swole.’  Swole is me!  The best tin show’s drummer in Gunter’s marching band, brandishing twin mallets with which to strike maybe me!  This dysphoric mania Kyle Barnes keeps going on about is effecting me full of doubt, but does it matter?  I believe it all means nothing and that’s normal!  A descent into madness is fearful for possible arrests: cardiac arrest, police arrest, and resentful rest.  

       Nuke the Martians!  Musk approves.  South of Muskoka: Buffalo.  Who’s my ugly girl?  She’s a tenth out of ten! A human to a bullet swiftly kills swiftly.  Controlled enough for forensics if it weren’t for her tidy bleach solution she uses to rinse brain splatter, and her towel she uses to clean her revolver and wipe her tracks.  Her ninja black wrap outfit tints to princess white after soaking in her bleached bloodbath.  This woman’s an untormented psychopath!  She sweeps her legs, kicking my legs out from under me and suddenly her ugly, tense face covers mine with a shower of dead skin and loose blackheads.  My scream is muffled by our mingling vomit.  Dying, I’m reborn, as a virgin, climaxing, covers my head with her long hair as she covers my head with her shorthairs.  The position is her favorite, I can tell already, I’ve served my sentence, and that’s not her period, that’s just pussy pussy pussy pussy blood blood blood!!


Friday, September 11, 2015

Something Real Outside Nietzsche's for Post 60

The following is a transcription of two recordings I made on dates specified. Almost 2,500 words before 9am!  Today is going to be a good day.

9/9/15
“My husband is so fucking jealous I can’t even go to the toilet, can’t make a tinkle. My huband ran off with the poolboy.  I’ve got him by the shorthairs with a pre-nup, pay through the nose that son-of-a-bitch. Thought I could trust the man, I was wrong, for I have hemorrhoids to keep, and piles to go before I sleep, and piles to go.  Do you remember Chlamydia?  The bucktooth lady?  Ricky mohel? Is it tuna fish?  Said the mohel, ‘It won’t be long now,’ shtooped her in the tuckas with a Remington 12 ‘cause he didn’t have a Mossberg, <days money-oon>, Vidal Sassoon…”
“Can I get a cigarette?”
I get rolling papers and tobacco.
“Will it be difficult to apprehend the culprit?” speaking to a police officer.  The police officer is there responding to prank phone caller.  He needs a subpoena.
“One of my favorite shows recently has been Docs Avenue Boys on Youtube.  It’s the best show you can possibly see.”

9/4/15
Speaking of public executions, recording starts:
“…3 guys that need to be hanged, charge people a hundred bucks, sliding scale. You’re making a living, show proof of income, you know, you don’t got the money to pay…come on, come on in,”
Rick enters scene, he says, “500 to 10.”
“Yeah any word,” Jeff continues dismissively.
“Might as well give the rich people…” other guy trails off.
“Shtooped her in the tuckas with a Remington 12 because he didn’t have a Mossberg, days money-oon, Vidal Sassoon, Ralph Lauren, toe to toe, I put my money on the Jew.”
I ask, “What does that have to do with B.B. King or Paul McCartney?”
“Well what I’m talking about is a triple hanging to earn enough money to put people in good housing for the next twenty years here in Buffalo.”
“And have beautiful hair!”
“It’s a big draw!  The Arena wouldn’t hold it.  It’s an outdoor event.”
“Hangings have always been outdoor events, traditionally.”
“They rented out rooms so you could see the hanging of the three Fair brothers behind city hall in 1825, that’s all marshland back there, you have to go 30 feet down to bedrock beneath city hall, it sits on pilons.  And down at HSBC tower, you have to go 80 feet down to the Lockport dolomite.  But let’s forget topography for a moment.  Let’s concentrate on three nogoodniks.  The Fair brothers.  Nelson, Israel, and Isaac Fair; 25, 23, 21 years old respectively, known to their neighbors as swaggering toughs, named their horses Jesus Christ, God Almighty.  Now, they owed a guy money, and wouldn’t pay him, decided to kill him.  In October of 1824 they hatched a plot.  February of 1825 they invited him to a pig slaughter out at their property in the Boston hills.  Now at that time there might have been 100 people out in that neck of the woods.  It’s woodland.  And they owed John Love money, he had a lien on their property and they decided to dispose of this problem diplomatically.   So they invite him over, they have a drink at the table, the youngest slips out the back, some excuse, gets a rifle, and shoots John Love in the back.  That does the trick. He goes off to have a drink.  The other brothers pull out meat cleavers and go to work.  You’ve been in pharmaceutical life?”
Affirmative.
“(so you know) it takes a little while.  (they think) we’ve got to chop this guy up, he’s a little bit bigger than you, what do you weigh?”
190
“What do you weigh?” he asks Rick.
160
“So, in fact, it would take longer to go to work on you, there’s just more to dismember, you’re a little leaner, a little taller, so it’d be real work. Now do you see any men amongst us cut out for this kind of work?  I mean the hacking part, not the shooting in the back!  There’s all kinds of guys who’ll shoot you in the back!  Look around you, who would have the balls to…?  (Enter) Mr. Matt.  William C. Matt had performed this task upon an elderly businessman.  <And needs to falling asleep from Danamoora> sic.  Now the other guy, Mr. David P. Sweat ran down a couple state troopers, kept running them over twenty times.  He’s fit for the holy work as well.”
At this point I interject, being the drunk asshole, probably lost from that weird statement that I can’t really even decipher from the recording despite its clear quality.  “That’s what I was wondering, who would be the executioner in these types of events, like, what is the qualification to be an executioner?” Dumb question I know…
“Well, you’ve got to be good at it…”
“Efficient.”
“It’s a paying job!  It’s hard work. You’ve got to weigh the guy…they chopped up this poor guy!”
Rick says, “You’ve got to weigh the guy and then you’ve got to have the right amount of (sand)bags so his neck snaps.  The sentence was often ‘hung by the neck.’ You didn’t necessarily die. If you didn’t die you were free to go. Unless it said ‘hung by the neck until dead.’”
“In which case you suffocate…” understood.
“There were 22 capital offenses in New York State before 1816.” Jeff continues, “All kinds of stuff.  Well, anyhow, these guys ran afoul of the law, chopped a guy up, rode around on his horse trying to collect all the money he had out in the neighborhood.  People (would) ask, ‘Where’s John?’ ‘He’s on vacation.’ ‘Why are you on his horse?’ Shot the fuck down. So the cops came in, they took them down to the joint which was behind where we have the Central Library today.  Second City Courthouse is on the terrace there in 1816 they put up, it’s Greek revival.  And they were put on trial in April of 1825, went on for a month, coroner came in, and witnesses, like you see in the modern court.  You can see the documentation of this trial and because this was a famous trial, these guys were on trial for their lives, the news spread in the newspapers of the time.  Here it is newly Erie County but it used to be Niagara County, before it was Genesee County, but they carved out Niagara from that, then they carve out Erie from that.  So they’re out in Erie County there in 1825 they get convicted for their crime. And the judge says in sentencing, ‘I don’t want to do this, but I’m compelled by the law, you’re going to hang by your necks until you’re dead.  I want you to think about your mother, your father, children you’re leaving behind, people in this community you’ve harmed.’
On June 17th 1825 these three fucks in robes, in hoods, slippers, they walk them down from the jail, down to the gallows, behind where we have City Hall, it was Niagara Square at the time, and the wealthy people lived there, so this was set up right behind their homes. The founding fathers of the city lived right there: General Burke lived there, Samuel Wilkeson had a home there…They took them down for execution.  There were 2,400 people living in Buffalo at that time, in the village, it wasn’t a city yet, it wasn’t incorporated, 2,400 by the listings. People came from near and from far to observe this event.  How many people do you think attended this?”
5,000.
Come on.
10,000. 20,000. 40,000
“They estimate the crowd between 20 and 30 thousand. Like Robert Grey came down to Lafayette Square(?), so everybody rented out the top floors of their joints so they could see this.  How many vendors at a show like this?  Come on!  Didn’t you ever go on tour motherfucker?  What did the Grateful Dead draw?  How many whores? And of what caliber?  You got some for 5, some for 50, depends how they look!  How many pickpockets?  How many overt killers in the crowd looking to rob you blind, break your fucking head open, steal your daughter…?”
I don’t answer this.  Jeff goes away. Comes back.
“I wonder about these things,” he says.
“What?” I retort, “How many criminals in a crowd (versus) spectators?”
“Look man, while we sit here, at Dannemora prison, is a maximum security prison, it’s about $100,000 a year…<recording breaks off briefly, bus> and the guys that they have there have performed such terrible acts in this world; it’s more than halitosis, it’s more than people not liking you on the porch, or having a beef with your girl. These people chop you up. They’re killers. They don’t give a fuck. Something’s wrong with their head. Comes out of your pocket. It’s really not fair. It’s not fair when these drug gangs run wild over there, you need a fucking army to wipe them out.  The local police can’t take care of this. It’s a military problem, really is.
“Well, it’s to less of an extent that they don’t require the military.  It’s not a state of national emergency (or they would hire heavy guns).”
“Look, they perform as ISIS.  What they do is recruit kids and tell them, look, you kill this guy. They pick you out of a crowd, and a 13 year old will come and plug you, and you’re ruined for the rest of your life if you survive, and you’ll discover in short order the 13 year old might spend the next 4 or 5 years in jail with children and be released and his records will be sealed. Having learned how to murder people in cold blood, he has moved up in the world, he knows more about the criminal life, having studied in prison how to get away with it, the idea is to get away with it.  That’s the idea.”

Forward again to 9/9/15
“American business was doing business with Hitler in the 30’s”
I reference Fanta, the Coca-Cola subsidiary, by singing the jingle.
“IBM did their computer work for them.  Well they’re monsters, and the Bush family is in it up to their neck. Capitalists. It’s immoral. Some people have different morals and ethics, that’s why people fight.”
“I’ve been having anxiety lately, been burning the candle on both ends.  What do you do to deal with anxiety? Sleep?”
“Well…the bicycle. And stretching, you’ve got to keep the blood flowing.  You know, because you’re going to be plagued by this throughout your existence.  It’s part of the nature. Because there really is threat to existence. Not from the people around you. Hope to God you’ll refrain from picking fights with those people, because that’s what you’ve been doing recently.  Yeah, when you get drunk, you start lashing out.”
“What?” Incredulous.
“Oh yeah.  People don’t like it.  They comment upon this. People never met you before wonder, what’s this guy doing?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’ve got to be aware of these things.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well a lot of the hostility comes out when people are drunk. See any vulnerability or anything they can pick on, especially when it doesn’t have anything to do with nothing. Has something to do with what’s going on inside of you. You see any flaw in the other, what you think it is, instead you’re going to ask them about it, you don’t even know who you’re talking to. Somebody will just get up and pound the shit out of you. (like) ‘what the fuck you talking about?’ That’s the real world!  Got to be careful with that.  You’re a nice guy, you’ve got a brain in your head, just have to find something to do with your time that you like, otherwise you’ll be miserable.  And you’ve got to make it succeed. And figure out a way to do that in the real world.  You want to spend the rest of your time pretending it ain’t?  It’s a very real world.  Look at the big business down here. The delivery of beer. Whiskey. That’s the primary function of this street (Allen).”
“I produce my own beer.”
“Self-reliance!”
“I’ve produced my own gin too at one point.”
“Good!  Juniper berries.”
“Yes!  That’s the key! Key ingredient. Tastes good too, the good stuff, the homemade stuff, it comes out of solution, it emulsifies, the chemicals, the essential oils are carried through the process.  When you dilute the solution with water it emulsifies the active chemicals in the juniper that you get from the juniper berry, it’s called the Ouzo effect.  The Ouzo effect, like if you’ve ever had a glass of Sambuca, and put Sambuca on the rocks, it gets cloudy, that’s the Ouzo effect, that’s the essential oils coming out of solution and emulsifying, micro-particles, so it looks cloudy, they’re individual chemical micelles that you’d have in your own stomach even.”
“You should get involved with some of the local brewers and makers of spirits, it’s going on in Buffalo now.  The biggest thing and the most important thing in that racket: the bottle.”
“Yeah, the packaging. Marketing.  Totally.”
“The sizzle, not the steak. It’s overweening.  He says they need a subpoena, Amanda!”
“I could be nicer to people.  I haven’t been laid in a while.  I think that’s part of it.”
“Well, yeah, but you’ve got to keep in mind any of these guys you see down here your age, you see there’s a multitude of men, and they have a variety of attitudes toward women. And many of the attitudes that they have, they reinforce in their frustration, (which in effect) drives women further and further away from them, cause they want nothing to do with this madness. All this tough guy shit.  You know, a woman’s more capable of killing you than I am. Cause she can get you to go anywhere, do anything, you wouldn’t even see it coming.”
“That’s the madness I know, that’s why keep women at an arm’s length normally because I know the risks that are involved, but at the same time there’s like this push-pull.”
“You’ve got to come to terms with it! It goes on and on and on and on… Doesn’t end.  I’ve had a hard time with these things too, believe me. But balance, the practice of the arts…will give you something to do with your time.”
“Beautiful day downtown Allentown!” Another local guy.
“Yeah, temperature’s nice today, air’s good,” I say.
“Yeah, I bet there’s been a lot of pollutants in the air the past few days,” Jeff says what I’m thinking.
“Hazy.  There was a power outage at South Campus today, UB South Campus.  They cancelled classes.  They never cancel classes, but there was just like apparently a massive power outage at the campus. I don’t know, I just heard it on the radio earlier today.  Weird things happening!”

“Lot of people on the planet, man.”