Tuesday, March 12, 2013

N. A. Berdyaev (a hosted site)

Berdyaev Online Bibliotek Library

Via an arcive of Berdyaev's writing.

mixed review 3-12-13 (Princess Chelsea - Yulia).

This young woman is brilliant. Her words are simple and as direct as water splashing it's self.

Two thoughts as I watch this video; her friend should listens to her advice because as someone who shares experience with her, she knows better than anyone, and second I wonder if I have ever been the boy she speaks of. As a male listener there is a perfect conflict formed in my being, as I contemplate this simple message. Am I bad? Am I boring? Am I a drag? What does a good woman deserve?

There is another thought; the boy she is singing about is more worthless then myself. This is really an extension of the first thought, because her friend should leave the boy because he's worse than I've ever been, but this 'worst' connects back to me as a possibility for myself. It's at this point where I, as Jean Paul Sartre put it get trapped in the dream of another, Jean Paul Sartre calls this hell, but to me it doesn’t burn.

I resign myself to this perception, and say "sweet heart, your friend must find her best possible world, and I am not it, clearly, I have always been who I am, and that’s just who I will remain." At this point you’re probably thinking, "yeah bull shit, you act like you put other people before you self even when it comes to the most basic elements of human nature?!?" And I understand this, which in a sense means its true even in this strange existential way, but you’re over looking something, something so important... I identified with the singer's message before I turned it against myself. This is the way I let go of myself, and am able to say such extraordinarily preposterous things and still triumph as an opener of possible worlds, other damnations. I am triumphant and destroyed at the same moment, because i've let go of myself to regain my composer.

But there is something else... What is this something else? There’s what Derrida calls gaze of the cat. The cat is you. In all likelihood I didn't anticipate your thoughts at all and instead made myself into a buffoon, maybe even a little creepy, but even though I didn't anticipate your thought's I did change them along the way, and now we're in a fundamentally different place. What should we call this place? We could call it uncanny. We can call it love.

I love Yulia… the song. Yulia is a certain kind of femininity that makes me a certain kind of masculinity that loves her, and gives her up. Just like Kierkegaard's  knight of Faith. It's also like the movie Julie and Julia(2002), in that movie Julie Powell is a knight of faith. The story goes like this, Julie Powell is a young writer becomes disillusioned with her job and decides to take a year learning all the recipes in Julia Child's cook book. Gradually as Miss Powell cooks the meals she develops a fondness for Julia Child until she even feels as though she knows her. Julie Powell decided to write a blog to record the process, but the blog became so popular that Julie Powell got a publishing deal. Julia Child read the book, and publicly announced her displeasure with it. When Julie Powell heard that Julia Child didn't like her book she was heartbroken, and even had a bit of an identity crises. Then Julie powell decided that she wasn't going to let Julia Child ruined her new passion for cooking, and indeed she even decided she wouldn't even give up her fondness for Julia Child, and that’s when she became a night of faith, regaining everything that was lost, and free to repeat her passion over and over again forever without ever losing it. In Kierkegaard's book repetition he contrasts this mode of repeating ones passion with mere memory. Memory is sad it makes nothing new, but repetition is always new.

If you’re still having trouble with these concepts then here are some links that could help you. Trust me you may not think so now but all this shit I'm talking about here--its way fuck awesome stuff that can help you in your real life.

Habit, Repetition, Enjoyment by Daniel Coffeen

Jacques Darrida talking about animals

Arthur Rimbaurd poety arcive (a hosted site&more)

Arthur Rimbaurd's Lif, Poety and news - Mag4.net

This is a great Poety Arcive.

I, Dusty Gravel did a review of Arthur Rimbaud back life and work back in November, which you can check out if you click on the row of crosses standing here. ††††††††

Toward a radical future esthetic super power: form/function (a hosted site)

Civilian counter intelligence for the emerging drone age &

future cool style to boot!!!

Via Camouflage from Computer Vision

Mike Mish Shedlock explains how defiset spending herts the por (a hosted site)

Venus flytrap sea anemone


This Blog Linked From Here WilliamBanzai7 in the Blogosphere WILLIAMBANZAI7'S BOOK OF WALL STREET FAT CATS (a hosted site)

It's here folks! The wonder working power of the monetary mystery cult, will finally be layed bare for all the fine citizens of the world to behold in all its conniving treachery! NEW!! Hermetic art for the global insurrection against banker occupation!!! Peer into the future of monetary mayhem, and obtain the secret wisdom of the ages through the creative imaging’s of one WILLIAM BANZAI7!!!

Via: This Blog Linked From Here WilliamBanzai7 in the Blogosphere WILLIAMBANZAI7'S BOOK OF WALL STREET FAT CATS

Friday, March 8, 2013

The Science of Embodiment (a hosted site)

Integration Training Journal

via The Science of Embodiment Integration Training Journal.

This post was broght to my atention by syndax vuzz.
Infinite appreciation, thank you syndax vuzz. So generous!

Monday, March 4, 2013

leaving (poem)

The grey dragon descends through the low lying clouds like the ex-hale of a child

a farmer rakes the clouds and streaks of light show through

the rays cast down a pon your blossoming face

I sow your face as the spirit in you when you laughed

And did you see the planes turn in to flying silver beetles in the open sky

When I think of it I can’t stay still

while I lay next to you under the spinning sky, I shake with joy

you ask me if I'm cold

I say "no, why? are you?"

I’m a ditz, not conscious of my own shivering

not aware you might not know it's from joy


we turn on to our bellies

and you dig into the ground with your fingers and eat dirt

I ask how can we be of the earth and yet not of this world?

dogs run by like mad trains

you tell me that dogs are the most oppressed and miss understood animals

I frown and think, look at the joy in the dumb happy face of a dog

but I know what you mean

the dogs owner yells at him, COME, HERE!!!

and you can see that he doesn't want to

because he doesn't do it

he stand next to us

"Come Here!" the owner yells again

and you know what?

we'll be here forever