7 july 2010 at 16:20 pm
Hong Kong nostalgia
I watched La moustache (about the last ~30 minutes), Chinese Box and Chungking Express one after another.
On my way to Wan Chai, I stopped at Tang Chai fast food, at the corner of Canal Road and Sharp Street.
The music was loud, so loud it stripped me from thinking - the bias of multitasking.
The girl mixed ketchup, mustard and spices on my chef's salad; she smiled and gave me an icy mango juice too.
Then I went for a walk, gazing at the busy rooftops, glass plazas and the harbor.
An old Morris Oxford took me back home, to the Mid Levels I guess; the flamingos are quietly sleeping in the
botanical garden; a nice fancy in time.
10 april 2010 at 16:20 pm
Here's a video from our Hong Kong & Macau trip: HK: 2010 (video)
And a comprehensive photo collection for the patient ones: HK: 2010 (pictures)23 feb 2010 at 01:10 pm
Mills And More: go Live in the app store!
(available for iPhone & iPod Touch)
11 feb 2010 at 21:34 pm24. Interlude (book of facts project)
Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages. Bitter cold.
Long months of complete darkness. Constant danger.
Safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success.
- Supposed newspaper ad calling for volunteers for an Antarctic expedition.
In my quiet desperation, I have lost the path... and the cause. The long persisting
snowstorm, this frantic blizzard, unleashed its strongest powers and I was a gone man, a man
with a lost cause, but what cause? The cold was unbearable. My face was expressionless,
my eyes half closed, my arms and legs almost immovable, my whole body covered in snow and
frozen vapors. A tired, sleepy feeling was hovering above my consciousness, like an unwanted
axeman waiting for the deadly command, and the time was slowing down. Then I recalled the
words I heard the other day, quote a monk, a teacher of thought, dead a long time ago:
Through our eyes, the universe perceives itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening
to its harmonies. We are the witnesses through which the universe becomes conscious
of its glory, of its magnificence.
So, are we?
When I left the monarchy, I was like 19; and now, more than a decade later, I wonder what
would I think with my ten-years-before consciousness about my present plight, about everything
I've conclude and everything I've lost, the course I've walked on, the road that brought me back
to this place that I left with my then-utopian identity.
The chilling cold cracked dead the rusty padlock of the hut - a place of clear conscience I would
often return to if I could. It stayed abandoned deep inside the woods for more than a decade.
To my surprise, its open door does not reveal the things I hid inside; it turned out to be more of
an interlude between the now and what was about to come.
Someone put his hand on my shoulder. I tried to turn my head to have a glimpse at the person,
but I was unable to do it. My head involuntarily turned down, towards the floor. "You're not
prepared for this at the moment" he said and advised me to concentrate on his impulses and I
complied; we slowly walked to the back of the hut. I felt a gentle push o my left shoulder so I
crooked down like someone looking for something; on the floor I saw a small pack, the size
of a sleeping-bag. "Use it wisely" the voice behind me said, and I heard the blunt sound of the
closing door. I turned but the room was already empty. I took the package from the floor and
begun to unfold it... promnesia.
*
When I spread my arms, I had wings that lift me in the air with the ease of feathers swept
away by warm winds over the meadows. With my wings I flew above the rivers and mountains,
I crossed the oceans and the heavens above, and that was only the beginning. Through my eyes,
far below my feet, I saw a small world and the boundless heaven right above my head. Through my
ears I heard the lousy nature that I left behind, and the frozen silence of the world I found anew,
detached from all the things and deeds I left behind, to my surprise I found myself.
When I woke up, I was like 19; and now I learned to feel anew, fresh and easy, like the first
real spring, the first love.
9 sept 2009 at 14:47 pm
nowdays, yesterdays, and tomorrows
social networking shit took over the noble surface of our maniac pressure on individual
communication and self expression, the typical topics of
"what the fuck is up with, what's the new hype, what bothers me today, and yesterday..."
the place is dead, but in its chilled ashes it may communicate to freaks,
and old fashioned fusty folks like me (and u).
and here's the gift: some trails of our latest journey through normandy and bretagne.
those places are fascinating, and not "just" because of their remarkable history,
but nature and amazing architecture.
beside all that, a strange disease is spreading, trying to take over.
some strange facts about wrong educational practices... the winter of my discontent.
mark my words: (without real experience i say) the wicked game of innocent blackmail
should be nipped right in the bud!
the new place has some pleasant surprises in store for me.
the final scope would be a successful deal with the cupertino guys.
it would spare a couple of hours from the daily routines, the barren ones.
we'll have to work on that... a lot more.
prejudice is a burden that renders the present inaccessible;
keep out the bad habit, the bad shit.
an amazing linguistical (fact/)story: italians don't speak italian.
testament, sam and twitch, f. emasculata and other thrilling stories to come...
20 april 2009 at 11:03 am
I had a crystal clear dream again in a long while. Unfortunately these
sort of dreams are very rare, but when they come, they always fascinate me with
their details and flavour of reality. Me and my friend were time travellers.
We went back to the late twenties of Budapest to investigate a strange case
of murder with connections to those times. The town was blazing in a hazy
sepia-tone because we had to wear special sunglasses to prevent any interference.
And what surprised me a bit, were the other time travelers. The discovery of
time-travel was starting to become a multi million industry by that time.
Some people even refused to go back to the present, and set foot in the past
(slight contradictions - not rare in the dream world). We had to inspect an
old rococo bracket clock that was hidden behind a modestly decorated venetian mask.
I was surprised by the detail and cleverness of the craftsmanship of that clock
that was accessible by pressing two small mechanical switches hidden in the
eyes of the mask. I'm not sure what hapened next or how everyhing eneded,
but when I woke up this morning I felt more tired than usual and I ramained in
the ambience ot the dream for quite a while. A broken train station window brought
me back to reality and soon I arrived at the office to make a quick coffe
and start this post, so my bored friend in London has something to read about
this morning. what do they always say there...? cheers, yes, cheers mate!
listening to the newest depeche mode album, the newest prodigy album,
the newest moby album, the newest g'n'r album...
11 march 2009 at 20:18 pm
fortune presents gifts not according to the book
when you expect whistles it's flutes
when you expect flutes it's whistles
04 march 2009 at 20:18 pm
oh meddazzaland, medazzaland
i have a problem they said they could solve
soon i won't speak, i have no words left in me
i dream in pictures but the sound is muted
i have no way to understand what they say into medazzaland
19 feb 2009 at 14:22 pmdeliver me from reasons why
you'd rather cry, i'd rather fly
first steps
[...]
although the piano keyboard looks quite large, it really consists of
a series of duplications. the same notes keep repeating themselves
as you go from one end of the piano to the other. the five different
black keys and seven different white ones constitute all the twelve
tones that have been used for centuries in the music of western civilisation
as the basis for all the melodies and the harmonies of all the symphonies
and songs that you hear. twelve different tones - that's all - and you can
play anything by Bach, Beethoven or the Beatles.
18 feb 2009 at 23:47 pm
sing, sing.. blue silver
the aphids swarm up in the drifting haze
12 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
various aspects of the neo-noire genere.
10 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
(from time to time) chemistry plays its tricks on us
06 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
(about risk:) no security, only opportunity.
06 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
SELECT e FROM Entity e LEFT OUTER JOIN e.relatedEntity parent WHERE ...
05 feb 2009 at 16:45 pm
...vapor and fume at the stone of my tomb, breathing like a solemn perfume...
04 feb 2009 at 16:45 pm
stupid=cocksure | intelligent=full of doubt
03 feb 2009 at 14:05 pm
chance or choice
02 feb 2009 at 13:35 pm
out on the tar plains, the glides are moving
01 feb 2009 at 09:28 am
enola gay, is mother proud of little boy today?
31 jan 2009 at 10:54 am
how fortunate the man with none
30 jan 2009 at 22:12 pm
words truly fail me
29 jan 2009 at 16:45 pm
a bunch of fuckin' idiots
25 nov 2008 at 13:08 pmLost Property, The Divine Comedy
Postcards and letters
T-shirts and sweaters
Passports and Parkas
Mobiles and chargers
Two tennis rackets
Blue Rizla packets
A new sheep-skin jacket
I lost it all
All through my life there have been
Many rare and precious things
I have tried to call mine
But I just cannot seem
To keep hold of anything
For more than a short time
Possessions of a sentimental kind
They were mine, now they're not
Gym-kits and trainers
Asthma inhalers
Silk-cuts and Bennies
Ten-packs and twenties
C-class narcotics
Antibiotics
The holes in my pockets
I lost it all
All that I'd like is to know
Just where do those lost things go?
When they slip from my hands
Then one night in a dream
I passed through a sheepskin screen
To a green, pleasant land
I found them all piled up into the sky
And I cried tears of joy23 nov 2008 at 16:12 pm
the last shreds of this way too long november are slowly crawling in,
with the first really cold days of winter. today there was some heavy
snow as well and it decorated the grim grey ambience of the chill.
when you drop out from work for a period, you should count on the fact
that when you're back in the vortex, there's still a month to spend
with no income. reserves are slowly running out, but that's the way
it should happen eventually. nothing lasts forever.
the slow process of writing is really rewarding these days. i managed
to try out some new forms of creativity that does not require the involvement
of any form of plastic art in the process of making (forms i'm not familiar with).
writing a sort of puzzle novel based on facts and fantasy suites best and
for the moment seems the most adequate form of expression for my ideas.
And where poetry is too abstract, too transcendental and hard to absorb,
prose comes with a bit more ease and lucidity. anyway, i still sustain that
spontaneity is the most important ingredient. research and composition is secondary.
me myself, i'm really exited about the outcome, well as far as the whole thing
is fun to do.
09 nov 2008 at 11:23 pm
a forgotten old time underestimated all-time-favourite:
republica, ready to go, full screen, full sound,
and full time orgasm as suggested by Samantha Marie Sprackling...
28 oct 2008 at 12:09 pm
i found a brief (four days) treking route description up the Roraima.
here's the link, to keep it in mind for a later plan draft.
roraima trek27 oct 2008 at 12:38 pmYou don't have to stay anywhere foreverIt's About...
About a city with dead skull streetlamps shimmering in the dark;
Streets paved with howling nightmares;
An old library with books full of addictions;
A child who finds a ticket, hidden in one of those books;
A one-way ticket to Roraima Tepui;
A black car without passengers,
heading to the train station;
Trains that never reach their destinations,
Trains that never stop on their ways down the opposite side;
White chanting divas resonating in A minor,
broken by daydreams and echoing eternal memories;
A predestined fate of three generations;
Dream hunters piercing our minds;
Hitchhiking on sonic waves behind the stage,
unseen backdoors, alleyways.
About being high on r.e.m, milestones and revelations;
Traveling the speed of light, ideas and sight;
That train jam-packed with hopes and prophecies;
That small boy making its way through the fey;
Reaching for the light at the end of the tunnel;
Souls devoured by a shining silver scaly snake;
It's like a place in the Bible;
Darkness falling upon sleepers;
Dreams meant to be forgotten;
The reason that might fail in the long run.
Well, just the usual lines for the afternoon freak show
to fill our daily prison of mediocrity,
to further obfuscate the fiction,
to drift against the towering pantheon of lies
in our barely civilized world.
20 oct 2008 at 11:40 pm
Optimistic Future Spots
Countless glowing solar cells sustain
the hanging gardens of Ecopolis.
Dreaming has other dimention in the New World,
the future city's not built on concrete and steel.
Communication evolved into telepathy,
Religion into compassion;
Vanity devolved into oblivion,
and anxiety fell into a river of silence.
Mankind is floating,
in this fragile bubble of oxygene,
a transparent whispering jewel.
Awareness emerged triumphant;
The Gates will open soon...
19 oct 2008 at 20:15 pm
opening a bottle of sandeman is like
letting the genie out of the bottle.
18 oct 2008 at 17:00 pm
death's younger brother
(the awakening)
home. it feels so good to be back...
i left monarch. yet, i return naked, alone... hungry.
weakened, i clutch a passing dream.
back on familiar ground.
i'm so hungry i don't even taste food.
i imagine the texture of fabric against my skin;
sculpt it from dream-space.
it has been so long.
~ Sandman
it's like reading a dream
without knowing it's a dream
and without knowing you're reading it...
06 oct 2008 at 21:27 pm
death makes cliches happen for real...
i'm shocked by the news coming from friends,
news portals, all contradictory by nature.
all versions fucked up
it's time to pull ourselves together
02 oct 2008 at 21:27 pm
lon-don-city-beat
there's no refuge for lonesome ghosts.
the world implores for a giant grip, the highest shallow dive.
cashmere sale fifty percent off.
swallowed by Swallow street.
impotent fresh meat on the market store window.
writing flying high, climbing brick wall cracks.
friends crawling out cages, high on LCD flashlights.
growing under a thousand fantasy bubbles, dreams, strikes.
fresh borrowed mega-metropolitan lifestyle and cheap coffee-shops.
down-beat black market gizmos, corners and pavements.
asian type lack of privacy on lazy rooftops.
superficial awareness between two glimpses on colorful paper.
vibrating up-beats of serenity in the cold chill.
regular labyrinth of square patterns.
cargo cults calling for fake rituals, gods trembling traces on the vibe.
plastic tits on cardboard box megaliths of pseudo-underground pathways.
escapist recursive ideologies unified in a stream.
several bits of paper on the windshield hiding literal stories rather metaphorical.
intellectual conversations with a newspaper article.
alternating blonde-brunette sweating amazons with hairy forearms on meditation trance repeating esoteric mantras
while rush hour drives madness on its trails.
and blonde eastern bitch shouting on the ether.
incomprehensible...
15 sept 2008 at 14:46 pm
images and words
(in a changed space)
the plaster is still falling,
disintegrating from the bones of the brick wall,
with a basement brighter than the past.
nobody's prepared for war tonight,
it's only me, giving up the comfort of home.
there's music out there, a special one,
piano music with voices tuned for melancholy Sunday
and frightening sounds of sand on the windshield
rolling off the pavement,
voices speaking backwards,
in Japanese, mature, dusty, shady roads in darkness.
there's a long way home.
11 sept 2008 at 12:38 pm
a brief memento for the twenty-first century
sometimes bad things happen, things that make me fell like crap,
just because i lost the thread, when it came about making choices,
skip the hard-way and eventually feel sorry about that.
but it's all part of the epic story...
as prosaic as it may sound, there are no secrets between people,
and that makes dishonesty more obsolete than is ever was.
04 sept 2008 at 19:38 pmroadtrip pics and journal04 sept 2008 at 11:35 pm[...] Finally someone let me out of my cage
Now, time for me is nothing cos I'm counting no age
Now I couldn't be there
Now you shouldn't be scared
I'm good at repairs
And I'm under each snare
Intangible
Bet you didn't think so I command you to
Panoramic view
Look I'll make it all manageable
Pick and choose
Sit and lose
All you different crews
Chicks and dudes
Who you think is really kickin' tunes?
Picture you gettin' down in a picture tube
Like you lit the fuse
You think it's fictional
Mystical? Maybe
Spiritual
Hearable
What appears in you is a clearer view cos you're too crazy
Lifeless
To know the definition for what life is
Priceless
For you because I put you on the hype shit
You like it?
Gunsmokin' righteous with one token
Psychic among those
Possess you with one go [...] - Gorillaz (Clint Eastwood)
01 august 2008 at 18:15 pmit is funny about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the very best
you will very often get it. - w(illiam) somerset maugham
it may be coincidence, but i got this message yesterday,
as some kind of spam or something, but looking at the address
(decisionsciences.org) it's sort of strange. anyway, this is
my first day as unemployed, and it may not sound sublime,
but that's what i choose for the moment.
we'll see how the future will work out. i really enjoy it.
tomorrow. leaving for a long way west for the next couple of weeks.
a draft plan for the road: budapest, lake como, cervinia (matterhorn & monte rosa),
zaragoza, barcelona, tarragona, madrid, toledo, cordoba, sevilla,
gibraltar, cadiz, sevilla, fato, lisboa, porto, vigo, salamanca,
el camino norte, bordeaux, la rochelle, caen, mount saint-michelle,
normandy, london, amsterdam, berlin, budapest.
21 july 2008 at 16:40 pmuntil one is committed, there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.
concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth the ignorance
of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans.
the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then providence moves too.
all sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise have occurred.
a whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents
and meetings and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
begin it now.
- goethe7 july 2008 at 19:07 pm
mgmt, time to pretend - a remarkable piece of music8 june 2008 at 12:36 pmif there is world wide web, there has to be
a soul-sucking spider as well.
the helmet of horror.
labyrinth.
minotaurus.
cyberspace.
and the ipower generation, the struggle of
a generation based on information x, y, bla, bla... and who knows what.
19 may 2008 at 00:00 amideas and ideals
environment
there are a few books on the table (perez-reverte, pelevin, murakami,
zen short-stories, some astronomy annual and lots of comics).
above that, two or three empty coffe cups (with dried-out capuccino
remains inside). a remixed u.n.c.k.l.e. blowing out the stereo,
two notebooks, one on heavy download with no empty space, the other:
the servant.
i went through twothousand&three. it was a damn hot summer and
lots of things happened, similar to those that are about to come.
the mere differences builds up on things experienced and things
forgotten. as a slight loose of interest...
a yoyo, lots of medical cream, an ashtray for the burned-up green stuff,
a pack of playing cards for practice.
magic teaches elegant tricks, especially when it comes down to the social
and interpersonal. but there's a mood for that.
(i prefer poor children around, whom i don't know)
astronomy kicked in since january but there's no sun since then,
no clear nights, but summer's up to come.
the egiptian cat, the indonesian lyzard, the wayang puppet
and the transylvanian devil stand still between sets.
guards of a decent, material kingdom.
well, life is full of tragedies, but therre's lots of comedy unfolding
[...]
it's time to go
29 feb 2008 at 00:00 amplus ce change, plus ce le meme chose
(quebec memoire)
it's strange how we change in time...
as we try to squeeze our meanings as time passes,
or hide behind a family
to ease our solitude as human beings
in a world full of surprises.
we all deserve it,
but not all of us can have it though.
ambition should dirve us
as far as our youth can sustain itself.
sometimes we travel
to places we love and places we don't,
but we should all have
our sympathy for nature.
even when we climb those hazy mountains,
or sneak into deep caves
that hold the secrecy of silence.
because if we listen carefully,
they will show us how darkness
can teach us about intuition,
the most powerful tool of survival.
and the more we change,
the more we'll find ourselves
in the same circle of being - the same -,
in an ever renewing space
with it's desperate need for room.
the new generation has been born,
but doesn't define it's purpose yet.
9 jan 2008 at 19:02
messed around with the google maps api. check the result here:
travel map
it's quite friendly after all... if i would have some more
time for this, i would try the same shit with KML stuff,
seems more logical.
25 nov 2007 at 16:02
a weekend in london...
screenplay experiment
there's this bar,
that's only in the movies;
at the fancy cafe' table
there's black coffee romance
and hip, blue-eyed girl
in deep melancholy,
mascaraded,
behind black lashes,
rolled up in a velvet secret;
there's shining glamour
across the table,
and sceptic, soft harmonies,
reminiscent of old experience spots,
vivid memories
about a distant country,
at east and west,
in a quaint self-programmed
newspaper article,
with suggestive content,
on the other side,
faraway across the ocean,
swimming in rainbow neon light,
steaming, blazing
practical reality...
12 sept 2007 at 02:3221 august 2007 at 12:58
a summer in prague...
20 july 2007 at 12:58"gonna stand my ground and i wont back down"
it started as being on a diet for a while but
with time - and considerable weight loss -
i realised that is should be more about
a slight lifestyle change. some old personal photos
poped-up few days ago and i really wondered about the change
(and all other classic/usual existential shit)
the zen people treat it really simple,
the greek buddies (like Theseus) built
nice parables about this (ship of theseus).
quite a remarcable story...
lot's of tea (preferably camomille alternating with nettle)
lot's of water (at least 2l per day) lot's of c vitamine,
moderate dining after 18h, sports at least 1 time per week.
(4kgs behind in about one month ;)
~ everything within the gentle borders of rationality ~
13 july 2007 at 12:58
...as, to end up an era,
there should be something...
(something to remember
these experience beyond words -
as the motto gloriously cites)
well, not always something to say...
i'm not too good at it anyway.
i'm a computer guy, you know, nothing special
(whatever that means)
great job, good pay, great benefits,
but fuck me i hate money! always did...
one great paradox of life...
but i'm trying hard,
stop spending time seeking opportunities.
because, as some wise man wrote,
the decisive moment, the moment
that justified birth and death,
has already passed. it will not return,
but it was- full, dazzling, generous
as every revelation...
well, after all it was fun
...and hopefully will be!
20 may 2007 at 12:58Taipei, Java, Bali
some new meanings...
When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego,
when we escape like squirrels turning in the cages of our personality
and get into the forests again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us so that we do not know ourselves.
Cool, unlying life will rush in,
passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt paper.
D.H. Lawrence, Escape
23 april 2007 at 03:35The Killers' Vanilla
(Homage to A38 Tobin party)
An easy hand I need
that loads the tune
in a late night pagoda.
& ancient drums I need,
diffusing rhythm,
metallic cymbal patterns
to scratch the ceiling away
above the ringing side
of this antique caravel.
For deaf ears,
it's pure pantomime.
5 march 2007 at 03:35Still-Mind Daguerreotype
Out in the wilderness
the meanings are broken
Spontaneous improvisations
may not help at showdown
Paradox may evolve
in sudden zen moments
with less meaning
less color
less time
less...
19 february 2007 at 03:35
...notes from the past,
notes from the future...
Dazzle
I keep vigil all night,
in a black coffee darkness
without sugar & full moon.
The collar of my topcoat
gives shelter & protects me
from the moral weight
of my loaded gun;
I'm laughing anyway,
lurching uncertainly
with a twisted spine.
My movements are tired this evening
and sitting about is painful.
Consonance's just an illusion,
bustling for a riot, deadbeat,
with dying waltz music
and morbid day-dreaming.
Their vocation derives from frustration,
around me, they grew old, untimely,
dead bodies, dried out faces.
They come, they shout, they get drunk,
and finally stumble
in depressive solitude,
sleeping till morning,
on confortable mattresses
by overheated stoves.
One day, I saw a footprint,
a masterly molded contour
on the crappy floor.
My thoughts ran on Crusoe,
alone, defenseless, naked,
on a deserted island.
I fought wild beasts last night.
1998 May / 2007 February, Elopatak
17 february 2007 at 03:35virtualia
what about a virtual job,
in a virtual world,
and a virtual life.
we could save the real one
from polution and wars.
we could transpose our thoughts,
create another future,
idealized by television
fantasy & fiction
09 february 2007 at 16:40Procrusticus
A southern soul
meets your appetite
while laying down
your fears.
Gives you
particular priviledge
& a bonsai haircut
while sleeping
in his bed.
Conformity is
obsolete.
23 january 2007 at 16:40the wise reject what they think,
not what they see
- Huang Podead man's hand
i lost with two pairs,
like wild bill hickok
but i kept my life
& said 'no' to the invitation...
18 january 2007 at 16:40utopia sunrise
the future brings on
origami soldiers
& creatures frozen
in cold taxidermy;
extraordinary species soaking
in formaldehyde vases
labeled with aluminium tags.
genetically manufactured angels
fly in the frozen sky
while soulful Saints design
the new book of life
between two bottles of absinthe.
happiness for sale
in small liquid capsules
with no side effects;
anyone can have wings
& keep hunting trophies
for the sake of appearances.
greetings & acknowledgements
are optional & nobody follows
the obsolete rules of the old book.
10 january 2007 at 16:40
sometimes i'm just quietly laughing
when those good-mood waves are passing by,
see myself in this huge carnival
as the quiet clown bozo, lacking showmanship,
tending to be the perfectionist magician
deceiving the minds of the good ones.
sometimes, i feel the absence of a bonsai tree
and increased imperfection.
and sometimes, i feel pity for the wrong ones,
who failed to walk the seven bridges of konigsberg...
they forgot the knowledge they once new,
the thousands of solutions drawn
on old school walls and silent churches.
some things to remember:
take one | take twothe old house
(notes from the past/notes for the future)
a squiggling street leads up
to the old house
that's fishing for compliments.
where the walls are whispering
and not listening anymore,
like in the old days,
when it was full of life.
i saw the future
in the coffee-grounds,
coiling up on me
with a slender smile,
but my thoughts were on the tulips
and i stowed away the vision,
some old books and the peace of mind.
so i learned to wait and see out,
a silent future and the evening of life.
30 october 2006 at 16:40magisterial paranoia
(lex, rex, fex)
smooth sailing, ready for the handover
the cover-up monkeyshine session
will work out with a capricorn silence.
background beacon lights in a far future
siglals secession, urban bohemia exodus
pursued by officialdoms naphtalene coats
in a dead wardrobe, in long silence
we're all queueing for a solved case.
parched, embezzled fancy price
led on to eternal insomnia.
silence should kill us first...
the skeletons vanished on a rainy afternoon...
28 october 2006 at 8:28
marseille tarot
with my left hand, i choose the sun,
the fool wakes at dawn from his long, restless night
to find that the wild river has, at last, come to an end,
quietly floating him into a serene pool.19 october 2006 at 22:53
i'm down the slope...
09 october 2006 at 22:53the beautiful south28 september 2006 at 22:53taorminas props
we heard interesting stories
about Pulcinella and Columbina
from the greek theater's crouded street
where the player's act turned slowly
into a vague costume piece.
the silent shop-window
filled with amazements
unraveled its jugglers
sentenced to movelessness
and stoned actors meant for improvisation,
enchanted us in a silent confession.
the comedy took a new lease of life
when Dujardins's characters became alive
between the sets of the darkened shop-window
and performed their improvisational theater,
the famous Rostand peace
wherein the Gascon poet
fights a duel with Death
in a mindless fray
then drops down dead
to break his woman's heart
and turn our piece
into a ceremony of gloom.
people walked on by, silently,
beside the shadows of their inadvertence,
others stayed inside Brighella's cafe,
sent Arlecchino for a lukewarm capucino
and listenen to the harmonies
of a sweet calypso.
7 august 2006 at 22:53war
everyone's dispendable - he said,
except those buried in the cemetery - i thought
the world doesn't changed much,
since ancient or pre-historic times.
it's getting on fire,
more and more, i'm afraid
still fighting
for a peace of ground in a dry desert,
for a peace of mind (without much sense)
in a competition for race,
religion, invasion, migration,
propagating their indestructible cancer
of war over the whole world...
i had a splitting headache
from wich the future is made2 juune 2006 at 18:00
Last Days
Here is the strangest story of fortune,
exotic scenery, mistery and vaudeville,
with great tragedy and drama and pain,
about people and intrigue and fame.
First came the chinese Ching Ling Foo
With amazing tricks, famous he grew,
He offers then a few hundered bucks,
for the one who makes his famous stunt.
Rebuffed by Foo, Billy takes his style,
made himself up, now he looks celestial,
performing way better than Ching Ling Foo
He changed his name to Chung Ling Soo.
Then one fine day Mr.Chung Ling Soo
Performed his trick with the well known crew,
Put the gun at his wide gapping mouth
And the agile gunman made his shot.
Foo rebuffed Soo and Soo revenges Foo,
Soo fools Foo and Foo sues Soo,
Where is Foo and who killed Soo?
-
some clues for the poetry :)
who was Ching Ling Foo?Last Days (the Gus Van Sant movie)24 may 2006 at 23:12live to share, share to live
few days ago, i left my Houdini book in one of the public places
of my company's office, just to experiment how much time it would
take for someone to notice it. the time frame proove to be really
short, as one of my colleague found it (by chance) in less than
2 days. eventually, i found out that my ideea was not an original one,
as there is a world wide community under bookcrossing.com,
which does something similar, something inspired by the currency
bill tracking, which was probably inspired by the ornithologists,
and so on (the chain or relations seems to be is endless ;)
the most traveled book went through 198 places (till today).
...another interesting form of spreading culture. enjoy :)
08 april 2006 at 23:12hail to the thief!!!04 april 2006 at 23:12
the world changed in so many ways,
while walking on the shores of heaven,
and the place had so many things to offer.
the man is greatfully tired,
while the world wastes - on the other side;
another dimension, another reality.
after all, i can only quote the old sinatra lyrics:
...tomorrow was another day
the morning found me miles away
with still a million things to say
now, when twilight dims the sky above
recalling thrills of our love
there's one thing I?m certain of
return I will to old brazil...
much happened, many things changed
i'm just confused, in many many ways...
carma manages16 february 2006 at 19:22 PMthis is the most important time to be alive
- the pivot-of-history fallacy
while looking for some infos about the great train robbery
of 1963, i found this death list - not a whit morbid, by
the way -, that seems to lobby for ronnie biggs this year.
i remembered, that he's currently living in rio de janeiro,
but that prooved to be false, as he (unfortunately) returned
to britain in 2001 (where he spend his last days inprisoned)
one spot less while i'll be there...
update: some big names on the death list of 2006: Albert Hofmann,
Oscar Niemeyer, Claude Levi-Strauss, Joseph Barbera, Kirk Douglas,
Muhammad Ali, Ingmar Bergman, Margaret Thatcher, JD Salinger,
Tony Curtis, Nelson Mandela, Elizabeth Taylor...
10 february 2006 at 18:02 PMif you have no hope, invent
- cirque du soleil
before journey
i cannot move the sea
from one place to another,
as others did sometime ago;
its waves took me a short time ago -
nobody noticed any sign.
the furious maelstrom occlude me
after i found pleasure in rage,
dragged me down in depths,
in doubt and disbelief...
someone said: i'm lost and blind
by cruelty and malice.
lazyness shook wories out of bed,
boredom is no longer my fate.
laugh away my catatonic stupor,
innstruct future
to scatter its grains of sand
free of gall and faint,
rived sticky idleness off my eyes.
i escaped from the prison
of my own reason for a while,
reached the edge of the new world,
waiting for justification.
-----------
watch your angles! (basic magicians saying)
2ö january 2006 at 19:56 PMbystander effect: a social phenomenon in which a person
(or persons) are less likely to offer help to another
person (or persons) when there are more people around
who can also provide assistance.
- psychology glossary by AlleyDog.com
the dumbs and fools will always be around, and you will
still remain with your big questions unanswered, because
those 'big questions' are finally your questions and nobody
else's questions... as people do not see whatever they are
sure cannot be (there)
lucky strickes back
music: lemon jelly (the bath)
movie: 24 (season 2)
book: the satanic verses (s.rushdie)
[...] more revolution than evolution unfortunately...
9 january 2006 at 10:59 PM
when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
- ancient buddhist proverb
not really fresh news, but these days, i heard about this guy who
made 1 million $ by registering a domain like milliondollarhomepage.com
selling pixels for 1$ each... and he made something like 990.000
so far. no fancy technology, no tough programming, no challenge.
almost an illusion. now everyone can argue if he's a genius or the
world is so stupid to buy such a thing. i vote for the previous.
tautology
when you called, i was already called, and i couldn't call
you where they called me, because you wouldn't came. when i
called you, you didn't called me back, although the callers
were right people, because they called me. when we called
each other, the timing was wrong, and the callers couldn't
get each other. you called me again, but it wasn't right,
because of another call. where they called me, i couldn't call
you, because of the callers. then you didn't call me and i
didn't call you, just the old buddies called us, separately.
it seems that the world still keeps spinning, and also keeps me
spinning ahead to xxxi. so now, blessed with all the wisdom and
knowledge of the men in their early thirties ;) i hope i'll be smart
enough to break the code to my birthday present.
let's just keep that in mind: e8bf8IIdbe734c45f63874bcc0b24e5d
btw. dig myself into the world of magic. a perfect way to prepare
yourself to see the world in a different way. (& nothing's changed ;)
and that's the second flying jump. now, i'll let you all go salsa
dancing with your own confusions.
wish evryne a h.n.y.
15 november 2005 at 6:06 PM
i will rebel against the continuity of my actions!
after the sunday morning church service, my five years old grandchild
started drawing very studiously. when i asked her, what the artwork
will represent, she said: God.
- But nobody knows how God looks like - I said.
- When I'll be done, they will know - she reassured me.
/dressed for the kill/ years and years.
now clasp your hands together in front of you, interlocking your fingers.
which thumb is on top? if your left thumb is on top, it suggests that the
right side of your brain is dominant (and vice versa)
the left side of your brain is said to be more adept at language, logic and
linear thinking. the right side of your brain is said to control your visual,
spatial and intuitive processes.
could you follow me? how long is it since? follow me:
it seems that it's time for the greatest pop idols to touch some of the
oldtime disco patterns. the new numberone madonna hit wouldn't sound so
convincing as it does with the evergreen abba sample. 3 times GIMME ;))
i will rebel against my self-awareness!
drift all you like from ocean to ocean. search the whole world.
but drunken confessions and hijacked affairs will just make you
more alone. if you come home i'll bake you a cake made of all their eyes.
i wish you could come see me dressed for the kill. what a nasty surprise.
unplug the phone. stop all the taps. it all comes flooding back.
from poison cloud to poisoned dwarf. what a nasty surprise.
the worms'll come for you big boots. radiohead.
after building up all the complex forms, after surrounding himself
with all kind of usefull and useless things, he abandoned his hollistic
view about the facts of the worlds. he got tired of doing things on
regular basis, the daily tasks, getting up early, showering, etc.
so, he throw away everything that seems to be normal and usefull (or
useless). he started rebelling against his own self revelation, and
also abandoned searching. the ideea about his pathetic self-awareness
that suppose self-criticism. he refused to accept the continuity of his
actions as the certification of his deeds. and so, he stepped out, off
the track of linearity, and nobody knows what happened since then...
think about, after the saturady night fever passes... read about.
if one looks with a cold eye at the mess man has made of history,
it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that he has been afflicted by
some built-in mental disorder which drives him towards self-destruction. koestler.
we were learned how to behave, how to keep track on our daily actions.
kind of fascist thing in my opinion; and the orwellian machinery was
learned how to buzz everyone not obeying the system (2005 against 1984).
otherwise you will be doomed to expulsion.sion. let me be the brand new
candidate for a pariah. and i'll not give a damn shit about the machiavellian
intrigues, techniques, practices and forward advancing aspirations. i'm the
cancer advancing backwards. hail everyone insilence; i'm the product of
discordianism! this is nonsense,
forget about everything you read here.
4 november 2005 at 5:42 PMparis, finally...
28 august 2005 at 9:42 PM...chaos, theocracy, aristocracy, democracy, chaos...
- this is just a short moment in time - the man thought - and
again, he found himself pressing the many plus signs, and so
expanding the universe around him, and it's still far from
becoming finite (as it's not), and just got more lost in it.
people go to jail because smoking weed; spring lost it's flavour
in the big country; God punishing man for seeking knowledge;
and put other glaring injustices here; world is loosing it's
coherence again... and that's just how it should not be!
did someone said anarchy?
28 august 2005 at 9:42 PM
[...]
"Look."
"Where?"
"In the field."
"Well."
"Do you see that passer-by?"
"The man in black?"
"Yes."
"Who has a kind of mace in his hand?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well, Gwynplaine, that man is a wapentake."
"What is a wapentake?"
"He is the bailiff of the hundred."
"What is the bailiff of the hundred?"
"He is the proepositus hundredi."
"And what is the proepositus hundredi?"
"He is a terrible officer."
"What has he got in his hand?"
"The iron weapon."
"What is the iron weapon?"
"A thing made of iron."
"What does he do with that?"
"First of all, he swears upon it. It is for that reason that he is called the wapentake."
"And then?"
"Then he touches you with it."
"With what?"
"With the iron weapon."
"The wapentake touches you with the iron weapon?"
"Yes."
"What does that mean?"
"That means, follow me."
"And must you follow?"
"Yes."
"Whither?"
"How should I know?"
"But he tells you where he is going to take you?"
"No."
"How is that?"
"He says nothing, and you say nothing."
"But"
"He touches you with the iron weapon. All is over then. You must go."
"But where?"
"After him."
"But where?"
"Wherever he likes, Gwynplaine."
"And if you resist?"
"You are hanged."
[...]
v.hugo - the man who laughs24 august 2005 at 6:30 PM
the matter of choice and the godfather's dilemma:
either your brains or your signature would be on the contract.
maybe i should proceed alike...
17 august 2005 at 5:00 PM
here's the circus
that brings entertainment from time to time - no entrance tickets needed! -,
the ferris-wheel's for free today, and there's no door on the floor,
that's the pennyless circus of the kandy-coloured tangerine clown.
finally, the storm blew it all away,
no need to break the fourth wall anymore,
it all pass into existence, together with the figures of past.
jesus brought me coffe this morning, and we'd talked about time.
why drifting from side to side? shout at sheeps we didn't know?
why not emerge high on top, above the shadows that obscure the sun,
understand death? sure! i took some humor therapy these days,
lowered my blood pressure and reach inside,
found my cookbook with all the tasty things inside,
but take care, some of them really need prescription,
(you cannot say i didn't warned you...) so i welcome you to taste my bread - i didn't made,
and you can speak out loud, and say what's wrong with it,
and if you start reading my book,
it will take you thirty years to find your way outside.
~pull me out of this aircrash....~
and YES! i have time to spend, time to think,
to fuck things up if so i want, time to laugh,
time to sit back and chillout loud from nine to five,
and i'm really sad for all who buried themselves under
the deepest shit of some ideals that doesn't belong to anyone...
big smiles, BIIIG smiles!!
that's all folks...
11 august 2005 at 6:12 PM
is there any (sub)culture which embrace the
kind of poetry fired while dumping waste on
the bottom side? and say, try to tackle with
existentional issues - brain fueled by alcoholic
beverages, usually high-on-top regarding
mind-ambience -, sort of small commercial
spots for "commons", try and raise attention
on /somekindof-great/ truths connected to our
daily life? check this out: latrinalia.orgthis is the end of the world news..............
.........................sponsored by God......
ps: i'm lost within lost27 july 2005 at 1:18 AM
eu-road-trip-pictures22 july 2005 at 4:01 PM
there's something around the corner, a smile,
the realm of sudden showers - maybe i should
call noah -, or a poem maybe...
rain rain, silver rain,
flow your tears, down the drain,
down the creeks, to the roots,
walking watering my boots.
wash my head, wash my car,
wash the dust, ache is far,
bring the message from the sky:
wrong number, please!
or a joke, or what? something...
a rabbi and a priest attend a boxing match.
they watch as the boxers come into the ring.
the rabbi sees one of the boxers cross himself.
so the rabbi turns to the priest and asks...
"what does that mean?"
the priest says, "not a damn thing if the man
can't fight."
do you think it has a moral? is there any left?
(...from the set of restrictions used to cement
loyalty to a mythology and the church that sells it)
cut off the mind road.
7 july 2005 at 3:54 DUyou are, what you are searching for
- a possible motto for the google guys...
i'll left for a ten days road-trip through europe. although it's
a big slice from the european fancy cake, I hope we'll have time
to enjoy the things and not just drive and drive over the highways.
till then, take my (discordian) word of wisdom, and don't worry
about avoiding temptation, as you grow older it starts avoiding
you anyway.
29 j?nius 2005 at 1:44 DUsome people were movie stars, and some people
were rock stars. Me? I was a pot star
- Boston George
22 j?nius 2005 at 3:05 DU
footsteps...
i dreamed that i was walking down the
beach with the Goddess. and i looked back
and saw footprints in the sand.
but sometimes there were two pairs of
footprints, and sometimes there was only
one. And the times when there was only
one pair of footprints, those were my
times of greatest trouble.
so i asked the Goddess, "why, in my greatest
need, did you abandon me?"
She replied, "I never left you. Those
were the times when we both hopped on one
foot." and so, i was really embarassed
for bothering Her with such a stupid question.
- apocrypha discordia
17 june 2005 at 1:44 DU
the machine pull in with terrible creaking,
like a bad nightmare, synapses triggered
more intensely, the plants grown up to the skies;
and the words of the satanic verses flowed
silently into my mind.
14 june 2005 at 12:24 DU
the positive attitude, suitable for last night's circumstances,
and the juvenile milieu, shone with happiness, and the musicians,
who just outgrew from underground, were performing way better
than last time. moments and intermezzo; by my left, in the crowd,
i saw mona-lisa, fluctuating with her white coloured porcelain nails,
with a half smoked lucky between her fingers. her friend,
the younger osbourne girl, jumping around, trying to convince me
how easy will be to come back with two beers. positive attitude,
cultural burst, holistic performance. everyone is asked to tell
his story...
25 may 2005 at 11:06 DU
mostly poland.
there is something trembling and really unsettling in that place,
and i think it will last forever...
disturbing tranquility behind the windows and bars,
coldness around the barbed wire fence,
the howling silence of those who perished there,
and the contemptuous writing over the gate.
fatigue took me for a short sleep...
12 may 2005 at 4:48 DU
i really like the endless optimistic view, that sometimes, perfectly
identifies with zen.
Unmon said: I do not ask you about fifteen days ago. But what about
fifteen days hence? Come, say a word about this!
Since none of the monks answered, he answered for them:
Every day is a good day.12 april 2005 at 5:07 DU
not haiku
should i be proud about the [...] i've done?
put my ego in the window,
searching for the things unknown?
better let it melt in sunshine,
till it's rain and air and flow.
4 april 2005 at 10:33 DU
at athens.
25 march 2005 at 8:49 DE
meeting an old friend...
21 march 2005 at 2:53 DUthree witches watch three swatch watches.
which witch watch which swatch watch?
how much wood would a woodchuck chuck,
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?...et cetera2 march 2005 at 3:34 DU
tha man said: these days, the real status symbol is
not having a mobile phone. and i replied: no, the real
status symbol is not having an email address
25 february 2005 at 1:58 DU
Thursday after Wednesday (hun)
The bitter taste of emptiness,
that's what it is.
I feel it in my mouth, exuding,
when existence tip out
of its slothful balance.
The sigh of books on shelves,
the words oppressing me,
thoughts moving about, rain.
Raindrops on berm,
flowing on my window,
fall into the pit - brain clacking.
Awaking from a nightmare again,
with spiders under the bed, everywhere;
I'm waiting for tomorrow,
maybe there'll be sunshine;
fear is getting-out,
crawling up the walls, up on houses.
Night came upon me.
One. Two is an exception.
The three of us,
traveling at the same table,
one falls,
walls resonating,
mices laughing around,
crawling, blind mices,
fluctuating tunes,
the walls of my room,
books came upon me again,
Nietzsche and friends,
I didn't knew him
when I was seventeen,
the theme was different.
Silence salutes me,
apostrophizing,
enchant me when I stay silent,
I see nothingness before me,
the meaning of nothingness:
The emptiness.
Sun is rising again,
everything starts again.
Curtains up, put your smile on.
Look at me and keep smiling,
with glittering teeth, white-hot,
bone beneath,
soul beneath,
void beneath.
Sitting on my bed,
reflecting again,
the picture is splitting up,
small peaces, its puzzle I think...
I cannot see the details,
I fall apart... like Kierkegaard?
but don't sweep me up,
I'm all right,
I'm quicksilver, lustering,
dilateting in thermometer,
showing temperature,
in celsius?
Or overseas? Fahrenheit,
the old fool,
heart beating,
salt melting.
Let me reinvent myself:
new face, new soul,
my appetite wings the air,
don't trust me,
I cannot see the future,
forgot the past as well,
don't ask, coz if I'll answer
you wouldn't understand,
no roundness, no fulness,
but the picture is getting shape,
colors are coming,
Picasso help me!
No, he can't, he's dead, no problem,
I'll manage, I'll contrive, I'll forge,
globalizing locally,
combining colors,
jump in depths,
swirling matter,
two colors are enough?
That's arty they said:
the critics, the laymen, the stoics
with glassy faces,
emotion doesn't affect them,
the drama is evolving.
Enough of today.
Curtains down!
15 februaryr 2005 at 5:00 DU
how could i not look into the flaming arc, when it's
so catchy...
does anyone know what's that thing, that triggers and
pique interest in someone about something? And keeps
someone interested in that subject-matter (for a while)?
form me right now, this subject is history. i'm living my
JFK period nowdays. It's really frightening to see how
mankind get tangled up into its own mysteries, to see how
selfish interests, money and political power misled a whole
natinon (world) by falsity. maybe truth would be a perfect
concept, but man think far too light of it. i'll try to keep
in mind what Sartre said about history: try not to indulge
yourself to deep into it, otherwise you may loose interest.
3 February 2005 at 4:31 DU
got lost in the frothy vision of clouds. the vision that brings
shape to every child's fantasy. i saw mountains and the curled
waves of the ocean. Sometimes, a face emerged for a short while,
then melt into the big blue. time and space ceased to exist.
later, my father's clout brought me back to reality. red spots
covered the gray floor, huge drops flew, like a sudden summertime
shower, watering the arid soil. i felt the unnaturally soft
substance of the cotton, creeping up into my nose. The white
clouds turn red and a purple sun was burning in the sky.
1 February 2005 at 4:06 PM
the poets,
the novelists,
the essayists,
the folklorists,
the playwrights,
the screenwriters,
the humorists,
the actors,
the spectators,
the photographers,
the painters,
the sculptors,
the architects,
the musicians,
the teachers,
the priests,
the historians,
the swindlers,
the thiefs,
the liars,
the bloggers:
everybody wants to tell a story.
31 January 2005 at 2:26 PMverbal remix
when i died, i found myself in a cold, darken room. it seemed that god
forgot about me. nobody called my name. i wrote a book, and it's title
appeard on the license plate of the car right outside. i saw death
creeping before us, on the road, and we run through. i closed my eyes.
when i woke up, we were in the city. ten years passed since we set off.
there was summer the last time we talked and tried to expound the drama
around us. it seemed that we pass over it. when the story ended, we didn't
knew when all this started. then i saw the moon before the mountains.
darkness blew the shapes away, and swallow the matter. i forgot who i was.
death is not like i thought it will be...
12 January 2005 at 11:31 PM
{2005 short novell self-contest}
the Spiral
/universalia post res/
On the spiral, that guides everyone’s life twine - that could be perceived
even as a three-dimensional map -, there are several determinative stages.
The revelation and interpretation of these stages is of a key importance
to everyone, and firmly determine the further development. In this sense,
there is no general model, merely rough patterns, conjectures and allusions.
The time and space continuum set a form of linearity, that forces us to move on,
from past towards future, through the incomprehensible moment of present.
However, the relative nature of time, results in a constant variation of
the circle radiuses drawn by the spiral. The farther we get from the center,
the slower the time flow gets, and the closer we get to the center, the faster
it gets. This phenomenon is experienced by every human being. On the arcs
of the spiral of life, knowledge and non-knowledge is scattered, that is
free to be comprehended and interpreted by everyone. The words (symbols),
the abstract concepts and the things we cannot explain to ourselves, all
belong here. These exist outside us, but get shape within ourselves through
thoughts, complex sentences and coherency. These kind of specific circles,
on the chronological arcs of the spiral entail cycles. Those can be found
everywhere and frame the orderliness of life and nature, the orderliness
of the universe. In this cyclical world, with space-time curvature,
everything begins in the center, and everything ends in the center.
In nothingness. When we reach the end of the spiral-twine, the falling begins.
hungarian7 January 2005 at 10:01 AM
the eyes of a portrait, a painting from another century, follow me
around the room, watching my steps, while i made my theory about
forms and clours. try to imagine the mirrors of lavoisier, the 18-th
century and paris by winter... a nice moment in time.
taking the epic ride
nostalgy strikes me with it's astonishing surprise, unannounced,
unplanned for, like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought
to bed. a tune, a short glimpse, a movie, a flavour on the right
moment. today i thought about hamburg, where I spent one of my birthdays.
and another half a year of my life. the glittering lake on the middle of
the city, chilling harbour with floating seagulls. and all the glamour
that we didn't find the day before... i'm not sure what to expect from
this year. not even sure that the other one passed already!?
does someone already said: the way we live, the way we die.
5 January 2005 at 11:20 AM
new year started?
The last couple days of days spent in the austrian alps, were
certainly a good mental, and also physical regeneration.
Skiing is a very good sport, that helped me to unhitch from
the routine weekdays. Off-beat relaxation. The first two cities
of this year: Salzburg and Vienna. Salzburg with the castle and
it's amazing marionette museum, Vienna with the Hundertwasser
architecture and the Freud museum. No stereotype phrases and
profoundness. A good start for 2005.
new year started!
23 December 2004 at 10:12 AM
Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.
- Pink Floyd
21 December 2004 at 12:57 PM
science-fiction movies were always taken well by me, although
it seened that no real good movies came out these days, but
this week i saw two great, animated movies already, and that
certainly prooves the contrary. first, both looked like a biblical
rap, placed in a sci-fi story, but when gods came into the picture,
they went into a complex mythology, and later grew up into great,
deliberate fantasy stories. critics vary of course, depending
on the norms of everyone's aesthetic sense, and we argued a lot
about the question of originality (if such concept exists anyway)
and innovation in this works, then got to the point that reusing
sources like the bible or any ancient mythology, does not make a
movie a plain copy of another one, just because the same element
appeared in both. irrespectively of that, and i cannot react
objective when it's about art, i liked both movies. the first
one: kaena, the secont one: immortel15 December 2004 at 2:42 PM
wintertime madness
narrow furrows on the shrilling streets of megalomania,
gave shelter from despair. and psychoanalysis.
a short release from machinery, the slavery incorporated.
let me break the overflowing champagne glass!
9 December 2004 at 3:00 PM
i was inspecting the abstract patterns on the glazed
tiles on our bathroom wall, in a way that dali defined
something like irrational knowledge based on a delirium
of interpretation. what cought me about this observation,
was the subtle transfiguration of the shapes,
first the face of an angel, then my face, then my face
with a huge scar on my forehead. fatigue prevail over me.
office-time-surviver-show... 2 hours left
3 December 2004 at 11:27 AM
savarin au rhum
('Let them eat cake' she says
just like Marie Antoinette
- Killer Queen)
everyone is adviced to serve it with the new exotic delight called
chocolate. extravagants and those disposed for overkill should
be careful (the royal physician predict the cacao to be addictive)
25 November 2004 at 4:42 PM
oil flew over the troubled waters.
22 November 2004 at 4:57 PM
the journalists monologue
fell right into the middle of global community... knew
how to navigate. it was easy. the dubious ways of navigation,
the blue spot on the screen showed me the way, somewhere.
then things end up and prooved to be right, the phenomena called art
unfold it's reality for the world, at least for a part of it.
the need for fresh words is not in the fancy of everyone.
made a few photos in my solitude, three. then let the fantasy flow.
cynism working as usual. constantly. things cannot be right,
the grapple, the acquaintances, and all the other things.
shot the facts, one after the other, glide throught the place,
virtually as well, zero in with a drink, a vodka-orange fits perfectly,
transparent zombie animals draw near, the space run high,
only spirituality keeps me on top, looking for the fix spot,
rigid matter in the ocean, falling. gravitation.
17 November 2004 at 3:21 PM
change of season
father to his son: fluctuations of the mood
are common these days.
when autumn pass into winter, stripping trees and minds,
a post melancholic spirit determine the way of feelings. mostly.
the lack of inspiration inhibit further progress on things
interrupted. the need for inner dialogues... and a bottle of vine.
tomfool outlook from the bottommost corner of the room.
imagine, kick time, idle mind.
mother to his son: if i knew you'll be so stupid,
i would had been better swallow you.
miss the things that rev me up.
11 November 2004 at 10:57 AM
i woke up on a blurry gray-coloured dawn,
acompanied by Borges, with his metaphysics
dressed in poetry, found tranquility,
eventually the push for sailing,
right into the ambience of monotonic traffic,
fell again in the usual space,
and easily threw away, the worries of my life.
10 November 2004 at 3:50 PM
from an interview with U.Eco:
Q. In "The Name of the Rose", there was a serious discussion
of whether Jesus laughed. Do you believe that God has a
sense of humor?
A. What is the strange and unique property of a human being?
To know we are mortal ... which is an important piece of
knowledge, if not so exciting. And I think just because we
are the only ones to know we have to die, we are the only
ones who try to react by laughing. In this sense, if God
exists, he has no need to laugh. But maybe he would smile...
(laughs).
complete text7 November 2004 at 9:13 PM
menace to sobriety
when he failed at the final 'serious' test of his innocent life,
we already knew, that knowledge and literacy cannot be measured
by numbers, and all those men who formed the committee, are not
worthy for this appreciation. supported by the rigour of the elder
generation, the arrogant young one, spoke with a fake gaze, blaming
those who dissent the comon accepted old interpretations. i always
thought about anachronism, as a positive phenomenon and not some
kind of glitch, even if things seemed strange at the time. maybe i
should contemn those who, by ignorance, were unable to discover the
values and made so much harm to the evolving generation, but
unfortunately, that's how things work here, there,... everywhere?
after all, he fell pray to debauchery, and... end of story.
everyone happy? content?
28 October 2004 at 3:20 PM
the vague future was something about drowning somewhere in the
depths of the ocean, but then i changed my mind, and drown myself
in a cup of red vine from the last century. laughing unconscious,
woken by the lovely senorita...
pass the tequila Manuel
listen gringo
laugh at my lisp and i kill you
i think!
ahh this spanish music
it sets my soul on fire
lovely senorita
your eyes are like stars
your teeth are like pearls
your ruby lips senorita
a spanish piece - pink floyd
25 October 2004 at 1:02 AM
tales from barcelona.
22 October 2004 at 3:13 PM
a weird game of emotions is getting shape, reactions of the
body, humor and low fever. a quaint stream in the chain of
reactions. after one week spent in barcelona, i really asked
myself: what the fuck am i doing back here? cold, rain,
darkness. the most compelling architectural artwork, the warm
weather in late october, the mediterranean sea, and the
looseness of spanish people, all tempted to be caught in a
small black box, remained vivid in my memories. a photo update
will come soon...
11 October 2004 at 4:30 PM
i join in later today, got a bit async into the corporate workday
monotony. shallowness. rubing my blearily eyes, saw the manager miss
on the corner, driving her limo while mobile-talking, in the late
morning, sunshine everywhere...
she wants to know am i still a slut,
i've got to take it on the other side
and i just head-bang, back and forth... the rhythm of the bass, almost
tribal. got into the office and went beside the kitchen, the open
kitchen-door, breath the smell of fresh milled coffe and imaginary
cigarettes combined with apple filings, like a black&white Jarmusch movie,
than take another breath from the toilet breeze... corporate shit.
no lunch today anyway.
i forgot what i wanted to say.
11 October 2004 at 1:02 AM
some clues about friday...
there are basically only two subject matters in all Western culture:
sex and death. we do have some ability to manipulate sex nowadays.
we have no ability, and never will have, to manipulate death.
- Peter Greenaway
7 October 2004 at 6:32 PM
happiness comes unexpectedly. when it does, no one want it to end,
and a desperate attachment develops, so everyone try to hang onto
the feeling. we become victims of our own desires in the vicious
game of manipulation, learned from our chaperones. the simple fact
that we can not always have what we want, makes us unhappy. the ever
growing expectations turns us into puppets; puppets in our self-directed
dramaturgy, placed in the context of the present social scene. that's
how we forget about transience, that's how we fail to accept the natural
flow of things. there's no need for regret about the passing moment
of happiness, rather be open for the next wave, and let it find you
instead of you seeking it.
6 October 2004 at 3:10 PM[...] who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed,
and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended
fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come
eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in
the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared
to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under
barns and naked in the lake [...]
- Allen Ginsberg /Howl/
27 September 2004 at 2:20 PM
many years ago, some of my old friends, those with artistical
temper, had a chance to saw and grasp a lot of the so-called
influential "art-work" and mainstream culture of the early
sixties to late nineties. i'm thinking about the movies here.
at that time, in the old (communist) regime, this kind of stuff
was almost impossible to acquire, unless you had an acquaintance
at some art school. who would believe a few years ago, that all
this stuff will fall right into my hands, so that now, i just need
the time to receive all this powerful material. i cannot say i'm
happy that i missed this stuff at that time, but i'm happy that i
can see it nowdays, btw i had this thought that it's a different
thing to comprehend something at 18 than at 28, and so on.
moreover, i'm grateful for all this friends who influenced me in
this direction. i recall the famous P.Greenaway quote:
But thinking of cinema being a dinosaur, you know what they say
about dinosaurs: the brain dies but it takes maybe several weeks
before that message gets to the tail. So if we're lucky, maybe,
the notion of conventional celluloid cinema has perhaps one or two
generations to run. But then I'm sure, quite happily, we'll see the
end of it. I would cry no tears for it because I'm quite convinced,
and there's no reason not to think this, that all the new languages
will certainly be soon giving us, I won't say cinema because I think
we have to find a new name for it, but cinematic experiences, which
is going to make Star Wars look like an early sixteenth century
lantern-slide lecture.23 September 2004 at 3:41 PM
we were shouting and wrangling, then observing the reactions.
after a lot of mistakes and failures, i got to a certain
level of steadyness, where i knew that everything a man
does to hit the target, is the idealistic impersonation
of his purposefulness. that happened after a short series
of epiphanies, when everything got clearer and simpler.
that's the point where everyone should reconsider and meditate
between the severance path of givens (or makings) and the
one of facilities.
20 September 2004 at 1:18 PMthe things you own end up owning you.
- T. Durden, Fight Club
sometimes i can feel the growing abyss between people.
social and relational abyss. how material aspects of
things and relations, drown neighbours deep down, right
into the vicious vortex. what can i do about it?
stupidity is not a crime ;) there is a discordian principle
before my eyes. wink at it and try to smile. sincerely...
GREATER POOP: Is Eris true?
MALACLYPSE THE YOUNGER: Everything is true.
GP: Even false things?
M2: Even false things are true.
GP: How can that be?
M2: I don't know man, I didn't do it.15 September 2004 at 3:49 PM
there's a ship on the picture, that sails towards a small island,
sanded shores and palm-trees. deserted island. the melting edges run
into a deeper frame of mind. it's surprising how this invisible force
that holds tight everything, keep the whole reflection from a tragic
disintegration. it's tremendously frigid. nothing moves. just some
words of an unknown mask echos in my mind. blog is obsolete. and the
slogan itself. is.
7 September 2004 at 2:18 PM
i came in a few times, lately. delicate green stuff on the sidewalk.
and the new darkened glasses for the new building. the guy stands
there, waiting for nothing. that's the job. at least he can think.
think about the weather. slow walk through the yard, my footsteps
raise some dust. that's how things work, when there's no rain.
rain man, late man. no man. some divergence between thoughts, result
some contradictions, even paradoxes. everyone seems busy with
interpretations, and try to find some highly effective word, to express
himself, to make some more blur around the subject. this is the new
lifestyle. everyone is an expert in rhetoric. who cares? i know what
i think, there's no need to construe complexity into simplicity.
switch sides sometimes, try to look from another coast. that will
change your point of view, you can be sure about that. when leaving,
struggling with the same book, on the same day. the free stream of
thoughts. words written from the heart. the guy is still there, with
a bigger stomach, some more beers maybe. the world seems silent and
indolent these days. lazy walks, slowness, debauchery. great perspectives.
the sun flashes form the other side, right into my eyes. it makes me
wanna hide behind. waiting for twilight. embrace me, while you can.
31 August 2004 at 11:22 PM
the malta experience... in pictures19 August 2004 at 8:02 PM
left for one week holiday...
till then, here's something more to think about:
I Want The Earth Plus 5%19 August 2004 at 2:15 PMMomomoto, famous japanese, can swallow his nose.
discordian zen moment /link/
A serious young man found the conflicts of mid 20th Century America
confusing. He went to many people seeking a way of resolving
within himself the discords that troubled him, but he remained
troubled.
One night in a coffee house, a self-ordained Zen Master said to him,
"go to the dilapidated mansion you will find at this address which
I have written down for you. Do not speak to those who live there;
you must remain silent until the moon rises tomorrow night. Go to the
large room on the right of the main hallway, sit in the lotus position
on top of the rubble in the northeast corner, face the corner, and
meditate."
He did just as the Zen Master instructed. His meditation was frequently
interrupted by worries. He worried whether or not the rest of the
plumbing fixtures would fall from the second floor bathroom to join
the pipes and other trash he was sitting on. He worried how would he
know when the moon rose on the next night. He worried about what the
people who walked through the room said about him.
His worrying and meditation were disturbed when, as if in a test of
his faith, ordure fell from the second floor onto him. At that time
two people walked into the room. The first asked the second who the man
was sitting there was. The second replied "Some say he is a holy man.
Others say he is a shithead."
Hearing this, the man was enlightened.
Mr. Momomoto, famous japanese who can swallow his nose,
has been exposed. it was recently revealed that it was
Mr. Momomoto's brother who has been doing all this nose
swallowing.11 August 2004 at 1:52 PM
faithless /sziget festival 2004/
this is my church the voice announced, loud. and the
huge mass of pulsing flesh, reached apogee through a
wave of happiness. the stream of sound blew out close to
the higher extremities. at least that was allowed. between
voice and drum. it should be great to be on the other side,
to see how things look like from the north pole. speak out
freely: i only smoke weed when i need to and i need to
get some rest... a memorable fancy
11 August 2004 at 1:40 PM
funeral
the priest spoke with the flavour of universality.
spoke about sin. about the perfect god. infinity.
nothing personal. my aunt died at 81, after three
long years of suffering. god rest her soul.
4 August 2004 at 11:33 AM
the multitude of choices...
first i had a mitsubishi eclipse, a nice sport car, a red one,
the cars which were on my favourite list at the begining. then
i found out about the toyota celica and that become my next car.
i liked the forms, the shapes, a real candy coloures tangerine
flake streamline. then a shity opel tigra, which was the worst
choice. small and claustrophobic. the next one was the calibra
model of opel. a large coupe, with all the extras inside. and then,
an opel astra classic came, then a seat leon and now a citroen c3.
unfortunately all this cars were own imaginary. more than half a
year passed, and i still don't have a car.
28 July 2004 at 10:57 AM
the sources of inspiration are boundless.
in one of his (night) conversation, J.L. Borges talks about the
The Book of One Thousand and One Nights, it's importance and
possible connections to the european romanticism. as small kid,
i read/heard some of the stories, but now i have just some vague
memories about them, the unique style, erotic feeling, et cetera.
accidentally, Borges also mentions one of the stories, about the two
dream-seeing guys, and that's quite similar with the best selling
novel of Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist. I loved the version
of Coelho, it's well written, very sensitive and of course it gives
much more with all the symbolic things, personal myth and all other
messages, but i think no one ever mentioned the strong connections
with the arabic frame tale.
27 July 2004 at 10:55 AM
it took a few months to understand the meaning of uselesness.
the senses. and the opportunities that were born...
once i had this ideea, of writing a novel about a strange
conversation of three men, an adolescent, a middle-aged
and an elder one, who happened to travel by night, in the
same darkened compartment. as a long journey was waiting
for them, a conversation is issued by one of them. anything.
in the course of time, they start having a weird presentiment
that they all know each other. in the end, they realize that
they are one and the same person, but at a different age,
in the same space in time, so the past, the present and
the future, got incorporated in this transcendental journey.
i never got more than this bare synopsis. but now, in the
dawn of uselesness, i got a new ideea. we'll see if i'll
manage to get a bit more out of that.
22 July 2004 at 12:32 PM
22/7 (~today)
groups of people, typically pi clubs, give thought to the
role that the number pi has played in their lives and imagine
the world without pi.
- wikipedia.org
12 July 2004 at 1:09 PM
intermezzo
...after a while, he took out his knife, and cut the cat in two.
his question was if that was a good or a bad action. {silence is
useless, speech is wrong. what can you do?}... i dug a hole and
buried the cat.
2 July 2004 at 4:34 PM
wednesday. austria. schonbrun palace. air concert.
a great gig, with great people and wienna by night.
i'll post some pictures later, although most of
them are a bit blurred because of the visibility
and the shitty camera.
update: pictures25 June 2004 at 11:19 AMit strikes me we get lost so soon after birth
but one smile can turn-over heaven and earth
- Lamb
what if it can't get any better? sensual delusion.
does the overstep philosophy still work then?
ambiguous building rocks and desires fall into oblivion.
urge overkill. the daily snivels accompanied by smiles -
oxymoron maxima. slowly ascendent cheer, between the
limits of self-consciousness. ludicrous. daily contest,
sometimes qualifying round. there is something very common
about all of us. there's nothing as sure as the advent of
that very moment. some sort of great faith? we get closer
to it day by day, and there's nothing to stop us on our
way towards. quo vadis? our old friend, who seems to be
a stranger all the time. experiences, acrimonious reflections,
good or bad influence. getting older, getting wiser,
getting mindless. stupid. no matter who we are, where we are,
what we believe in. all who taste the sweetness and the
bitterness - profane world - all who create or destroy
some parts of it, no matter how pure or how sinful.
temptations. the life we live, the people we meet. doubt.
does that matter anyway? hope. he's there, dressed in
whatever colour, and waiting. at. the end.
22 June 2004 at 11:07 PM
every jeep/truck/etc. should be stamped with this decal:
I"M CHANGING THE CLIMATE
two thumbs down
20 June 2004 at 12:56 PM
today's spam
philosophers remain hairy. omphalos over fire hydrant procrastinates,
and defined by pork chop hibernates; however, haunch of garbage can
confess... if dilettante living with brainwash ribbon related to,
then from particle accelerator gets stinking drunk.of recliner make
love to plaintiff of bubble. dogging microfiche dwarf annapolis16 June 2004 at 11:06 AMit is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision
as to be born
- Joyce /Ulysses/
bloomsday {i wade myself through the first few chapters,
and of course through his genuine writing style. great.
both. and szombathely, that's also funny.}
if there's no crappy weather, i'll celebrate with beer
instead of wine, otherwise movies and food.
anyway, tomorrow we'll be awakened from our nightmares,
and live through the whole scene, again and again and again.
the pain is far away right now.
7 June 2004 at 2:37 PMgreat faith. great doubt. great effort.
imagine a statement within the set of ethics, that has no proof
within ethics. let this statement be "there is God" and treat it
like any other statement in ethics.
if this particular statement is proovable within ethics, then our
statement is false and this would make ethics incosistent.
therefore, "there is God" must be unprovable, and thus true.
if "there is God" is true, then the negation, "there is no God",
must be unprovable, otherwise "there is God" would be false.
because neither "there is God" or "there is no God" is unprovable,
ethics is incomplete.
if we try to prove that ethics is consistent, we prove "there is God",
which is impossible. therefore, ethics cannot be proven to be
consistent or complete.
that's what happens if you play around with ethics and mathematics.
3 June 2004 at 4:14 PM
[...] i like the smell of rain.
it has something purifying,
like the corrosives of Blake,
(from the depths of Hell)
cleaning in a different way
watering dusty roads of this urban decay.
1 June 2004 at 5:41 PMthe last day of may26 May 2004 at 10:40 AM
i always thought, that the use of incense is something
peaceful and balmy thing. it helps meditation, make
spiritual ambience and so on. based on experience,
i think so this very moment, but a few day's ago i left
myself near a burning incense stick and i was breathing
so much of the fume - and i realize that, just when the
incense was almost gone - that it turned out to be a
nauseously, bad feeling.
...and a zen koan for the story:
A nun, who searched for enlightenment in many temples,
always carried with her a little Buddha she had carved
for herself out of wood, and which she had covered with
gold leaf. It was very pretty.
One day she came to stay at a temple where there were many
Buddhas. Whenever she burned incense before her golden Buddha,
she begrudged the others any of the savor, and so she always
used a little funnel that carried the smoke of the incense
straight to her Buddha's nose. Within a week her Buddha was
laughable - his face no longer was gold leaf, but black smut.
(available for iPhone & iPod Touch)
11 feb 2010 at 21:34 pm
24. Interlude (book of facts project)
Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages. Bitter cold.
Long months of complete darkness. Constant danger.
Safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success.
- Supposed newspaper ad calling for volunteers for an Antarctic expedition.
In my quiet desperation, I have lost the path... and the cause. The long persisting
snowstorm, this frantic blizzard, unleashed its strongest powers and I was a gone man, a man
with a lost cause, but what cause? The cold was unbearable. My face was expressionless,
my eyes half closed, my arms and legs almost immovable, my whole body covered in snow and
frozen vapors. A tired, sleepy feeling was hovering above my consciousness, like an unwanted
axeman waiting for the deadly command, and the time was slowing down. Then I recalled the
words I heard the other day, quote a monk, a teacher of thought, dead a long time ago:
Through our eyes, the universe perceives itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening
to its harmonies. We are the witnesses through which the universe becomes conscious
of its glory, of its magnificence.
So, are we?
When I left the monarchy, I was like 19; and now, more than a decade later, I wonder what
would I think with my ten-years-before consciousness about my present plight, about everything
I've conclude and everything I've lost, the course I've walked on, the road that brought me back
to this place that I left with my then-utopian identity.
The chilling cold cracked dead the rusty padlock of the hut - a place of clear conscience I would
often return to if I could. It stayed abandoned deep inside the woods for more than a decade.
To my surprise, its open door does not reveal the things I hid inside; it turned out to be more of
an interlude between the now and what was about to come.
Someone put his hand on my shoulder. I tried to turn my head to have a glimpse at the person,
but I was unable to do it. My head involuntarily turned down, towards the floor. "You're not
prepared for this at the moment" he said and advised me to concentrate on his impulses and I
complied; we slowly walked to the back of the hut. I felt a gentle push o my left shoulder so I
crooked down like someone looking for something; on the floor I saw a small pack, the size
of a sleeping-bag. "Use it wisely" the voice behind me said, and I heard the blunt sound of the
closing door. I turned but the room was already empty. I took the package from the floor and
begun to unfold it... promnesia.
*
When I spread my arms, I had wings that lift me in the air with the ease of feathers swept
away by warm winds over the meadows. With my wings I flew above the rivers and mountains,
I crossed the oceans and the heavens above, and that was only the beginning. Through my eyes,
far below my feet, I saw a small world and the boundless heaven right above my head. Through my
ears I heard the lousy nature that I left behind, and the frozen silence of the world I found anew,
detached from all the things and deeds I left behind, to my surprise I found myself.
When I woke up, I was like 19; and now I learned to feel anew, fresh and easy, like the first
real spring, the first love.
9 sept 2009 at 14:47 pm
nowdays, yesterdays, and tomorrows
social networking shit took over the noble surface of our maniac pressure on individual
communication and self expression, the typical topics of
"what the fuck is up with, what's the new hype, what bothers me today, and yesterday..."
the place is dead, but in its chilled ashes it may communicate to freaks,
and old fashioned fusty folks like me (and u).
and here's the gift: some trails of our latest journey through normandy and bretagne.
those places are fascinating, and not "just" because of their remarkable history,
but nature and amazing architecture.
beside all that, a strange disease is spreading, trying to take over.
some strange facts about wrong educational practices... the winter of my discontent.
mark my words: (without real experience i say) the wicked game of innocent blackmail
should be nipped right in the bud!
the new place has some pleasant surprises in store for me.
the final scope would be a successful deal with the cupertino guys.
it would spare a couple of hours from the daily routines, the barren ones.
we'll have to work on that... a lot more.
prejudice is a burden that renders the present inaccessible;
keep out the bad habit, the bad shit.
an amazing linguistical (fact/)story: italians don't speak italian.
testament, sam and twitch, f. emasculata and other thrilling stories to come...
20 april 2009 at 11:03 am
I had a crystal clear dream again in a long while. Unfortunately these
sort of dreams are very rare, but when they come, they always fascinate me with
their details and flavour of reality. Me and my friend were time travellers.
We went back to the late twenties of Budapest to investigate a strange case
of murder with connections to those times. The town was blazing in a hazy
sepia-tone because we had to wear special sunglasses to prevent any interference.
And what surprised me a bit, were the other time travelers. The discovery of
time-travel was starting to become a multi million industry by that time.
Some people even refused to go back to the present, and set foot in the past
(slight contradictions - not rare in the dream world). We had to inspect an
old rococo bracket clock that was hidden behind a modestly decorated venetian mask.
I was surprised by the detail and cleverness of the craftsmanship of that clock
that was accessible by pressing two small mechanical switches hidden in the
eyes of the mask. I'm not sure what hapened next or how everyhing eneded,
but when I woke up this morning I felt more tired than usual and I ramained in
the ambience ot the dream for quite a while. A broken train station window brought
me back to reality and soon I arrived at the office to make a quick coffe
and start this post, so my bored friend in London has something to read about
this morning. what do they always say there...? cheers, yes, cheers mate!
listening to the newest depeche mode album, the newest prodigy album,
the newest moby album, the newest g'n'r album...
11 march 2009 at 20:18 pm
fortune presents gifts not according to the book
when you expect whistles it's flutes
when you expect flutes it's whistles
04 march 2009 at 20:18 pm
oh meddazzaland, medazzaland
i have a problem they said they could solve
soon i won't speak, i have no words left in me
i dream in pictures but the sound is muted
i have no way to understand what they say into medazzaland
19 feb 2009 at 14:22 pm
deliver me from reasons why
you'd rather cry, i'd rather fly
first steps
[...]
although the piano keyboard looks quite large, it really consists of
a series of duplications. the same notes keep repeating themselves
as you go from one end of the piano to the other. the five different
black keys and seven different white ones constitute all the twelve
tones that have been used for centuries in the music of western civilisation
as the basis for all the melodies and the harmonies of all the symphonies
and songs that you hear. twelve different tones - that's all - and you can
play anything by Bach, Beethoven or the Beatles.
18 feb 2009 at 23:47 pm
sing, sing.. blue silver
the aphids swarm up in the drifting haze
12 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
various aspects of the neo-noire genere.
10 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
(from time to time) chemistry plays its tricks on us
06 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
(about risk:) no security, only opportunity.
06 feb 2009 at 15:33 pm
SELECT e FROM Entity e LEFT OUTER JOIN e.relatedEntity parent WHERE ...
05 feb 2009 at 16:45 pm
...vapor and fume at the stone of my tomb, breathing like a solemn perfume...
04 feb 2009 at 16:45 pm
stupid=cocksure | intelligent=full of doubt
03 feb 2009 at 14:05 pm
chance or choice
02 feb 2009 at 13:35 pm
out on the tar plains, the glides are moving
01 feb 2009 at 09:28 am
enola gay, is mother proud of little boy today?
31 jan 2009 at 10:54 am
how fortunate the man with none
30 jan 2009 at 22:12 pm
words truly fail me
29 jan 2009 at 16:45 pm
a bunch of fuckin' idiots
25 nov 2008 at 13:08 pm
Lost Property, The Divine Comedy
Postcards and letters
T-shirts and sweaters
Passports and Parkas
Mobiles and chargers
Two tennis rackets
Blue Rizla packets
A new sheep-skin jacket
I lost it all
All through my life there have been
Many rare and precious things
I have tried to call mine
But I just cannot seem
To keep hold of anything
For more than a short time
Possessions of a sentimental kind
They were mine, now they're not
Gym-kits and trainers
Asthma inhalers
Silk-cuts and Bennies
Ten-packs and twenties
C-class narcotics
Antibiotics
The holes in my pockets
I lost it all
All that I'd like is to know
Just where do those lost things go?
When they slip from my hands
Then one night in a dream
I passed through a sheepskin screen
To a green, pleasant land
I found them all piled up into the sky
And I cried tears of joy
23 nov 2008 at 16:12 pm
the last shreds of this way too long november are slowly crawling in,
with the first really cold days of winter. today there was some heavy
snow as well and it decorated the grim grey ambience of the chill.
when you drop out from work for a period, you should count on the fact
that when you're back in the vortex, there's still a month to spend
with no income. reserves are slowly running out, but that's the way
it should happen eventually. nothing lasts forever.
the slow process of writing is really rewarding these days. i managed
to try out some new forms of creativity that does not require the involvement
of any form of plastic art in the process of making (forms i'm not familiar with).
writing a sort of puzzle novel based on facts and fantasy suites best and
for the moment seems the most adequate form of expression for my ideas.
And where poetry is too abstract, too transcendental and hard to absorb,
prose comes with a bit more ease and lucidity. anyway, i still sustain that
spontaneity is the most important ingredient. research and composition is secondary.
me myself, i'm really exited about the outcome, well as far as the whole thing
is fun to do.
09 nov 2008 at 11:23 pm
a forgotten old time underestimated all-time-favourite:
republica, ready to go, full screen, full sound,
and full time orgasm as suggested by Samantha Marie Sprackling...
28 oct 2008 at 12:09 pm
i found a brief (four days) treking route description up the Roraima.
here's the link, to keep it in mind for a later plan draft.
roraima trek
27 oct 2008 at 12:38 pm
You don't have to stay anywhere forever
It's About...
About a city with dead skull streetlamps shimmering in the dark;
Streets paved with howling nightmares;
An old library with books full of addictions;
A child who finds a ticket, hidden in one of those books;
A one-way ticket to Roraima Tepui;
A black car without passengers,
heading to the train station;
Trains that never reach their destinations,
Trains that never stop on their ways down the opposite side;
White chanting divas resonating in A minor,
broken by daydreams and echoing eternal memories;
A predestined fate of three generations;
Dream hunters piercing our minds;
Hitchhiking on sonic waves behind the stage,
unseen backdoors, alleyways.
About being high on r.e.m, milestones and revelations;
Traveling the speed of light, ideas and sight;
That train jam-packed with hopes and prophecies;
That small boy making its way through the fey;
Reaching for the light at the end of the tunnel;
Souls devoured by a shining silver scaly snake;
It's like a place in the Bible;
Darkness falling upon sleepers;
Dreams meant to be forgotten;
The reason that might fail in the long run.
Well, just the usual lines for the afternoon freak show
to fill our daily prison of mediocrity,
to further obfuscate the fiction,
to drift against the towering pantheon of lies
in our barely civilized world.
20 oct 2008 at 11:40 pm
Optimistic Future Spots
Countless glowing solar cells sustain
the hanging gardens of Ecopolis.
Dreaming has other dimention in the New World,
the future city's not built on concrete and steel.
Communication evolved into telepathy,
Religion into compassion;
Vanity devolved into oblivion,
and anxiety fell into a river of silence.
Mankind is floating,
in this fragile bubble of oxygene,
a transparent whispering jewel.
Awareness emerged triumphant;
The Gates will open soon...
19 oct 2008 at 20:15 pm
opening a bottle of sandeman is like
letting the genie out of the bottle.
18 oct 2008 at 17:00 pm
death's younger brother
(the awakening)
home. it feels so good to be back...
i left monarch. yet, i return naked, alone... hungry.
weakened, i clutch a passing dream.
back on familiar ground.
i'm so hungry i don't even taste food.
i imagine the texture of fabric against my skin;
sculpt it from dream-space.
it has been so long.
~ Sandman
it's like reading a dream
without knowing it's a dream
and without knowing you're reading it...
06 oct 2008 at 21:27 pm
death makes cliches happen for real...
i'm shocked by the news coming from friends,
news portals, all contradictory by nature.
all versions fucked up
it's time to pull ourselves together
02 oct 2008 at 21:27 pm
lon-don-city-beat
there's no refuge for lonesome ghosts.
the world implores for a giant grip, the highest shallow dive.
cashmere sale fifty percent off.
swallowed by Swallow street.
impotent fresh meat on the market store window.
writing flying high, climbing brick wall cracks.
friends crawling out cages, high on LCD flashlights.
growing under a thousand fantasy bubbles, dreams, strikes.
fresh borrowed mega-metropolitan lifestyle and cheap coffee-shops.
down-beat black market gizmos, corners and pavements.
asian type lack of privacy on lazy rooftops.
superficial awareness between two glimpses on colorful paper.
vibrating up-beats of serenity in the cold chill.
regular labyrinth of square patterns.
cargo cults calling for fake rituals, gods trembling traces on the vibe.
plastic tits on cardboard box megaliths of pseudo-underground pathways.
escapist recursive ideologies unified in a stream.
several bits of paper on the windshield hiding literal stories rather metaphorical.
intellectual conversations with a newspaper article.
alternating blonde-brunette sweating amazons with hairy forearms on meditation trance repeating esoteric mantras
while rush hour drives madness on its trails.
and blonde eastern bitch shouting on the ether.
incomprehensible...
15 sept 2008 at 14:46 pm
images and words
(in a changed space)
the plaster is still falling,
disintegrating from the bones of the brick wall,
with a basement brighter than the past.
nobody's prepared for war tonight,
it's only me, giving up the comfort of home.
there's music out there, a special one,
piano music with voices tuned for melancholy Sunday
and frightening sounds of sand on the windshield
rolling off the pavement,
voices speaking backwards,
in Japanese, mature, dusty, shady roads in darkness.
there's a long way home.
11 sept 2008 at 12:38 pm
a brief memento for the twenty-first century
sometimes bad things happen, things that make me fell like crap,
just because i lost the thread, when it came about making choices,
skip the hard-way and eventually feel sorry about that.
but it's all part of the epic story...
as prosaic as it may sound, there are no secrets between people,
and that makes dishonesty more obsolete than is ever was.
04 sept 2008 at 19:38 pm
roadtrip pics and journal
04 sept 2008 at 11:35 pm
[...] Finally someone let me out of my cage
Now, time for me is nothing cos I'm counting no age
Now I couldn't be there
Now you shouldn't be scared
I'm good at repairs
And I'm under each snare
Intangible
Bet you didn't think so I command you to
Panoramic view
Look I'll make it all manageable
Pick and choose
Sit and lose
All you different crews
Chicks and dudes
Who you think is really kickin' tunes?
Picture you gettin' down in a picture tube
Like you lit the fuse
You think it's fictional
Mystical? Maybe
Spiritual
Hearable
What appears in you is a clearer view cos you're too crazy
Lifeless
To know the definition for what life is
Priceless
For you because I put you on the hype shit
You like it?
Gunsmokin' righteous with one token
Psychic among those
Possess you with one go [...] - Gorillaz (Clint Eastwood)
01 august 2008 at 18:15 pm
it is funny about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the very best
you will very often get it. - w(illiam) somerset maugham
it may be coincidence, but i got this message yesterday,
as some kind of spam or something, but looking at the address
(decisionsciences.org) it's sort of strange. anyway, this is
my first day as unemployed, and it may not sound sublime,
but that's what i choose for the moment.
we'll see how the future will work out. i really enjoy it.
tomorrow. leaving for a long way west for the next couple of weeks.
a draft plan for the road: budapest, lake como, cervinia (matterhorn & monte rosa),
zaragoza, barcelona, tarragona, madrid, toledo, cordoba, sevilla,
gibraltar, cadiz, sevilla, fato, lisboa, porto, vigo, salamanca,
el camino norte, bordeaux, la rochelle, caen, mount saint-michelle,
normandy, london, amsterdam, berlin, budapest.
21 july 2008 at 16:40 pm
until one is committed, there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.
concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth the ignorance
of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans.
the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then providence moves too.
all sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise have occurred.
a whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents
and meetings and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
begin it now.
- goethe
7 july 2008 at 19:07 pm
mgmt, time to pretend - a remarkable piece of music
8 june 2008 at 12:36 pm
if there is world wide web, there has to be
a soul-sucking spider as well.
the helmet of horror.
labyrinth.
minotaurus.
cyberspace.
and the ipower generation, the struggle of
a generation based on information x, y, bla, bla... and who knows what.
19 may 2008 at 00:00 am
ideas and ideals
environment
there are a few books on the table (perez-reverte, pelevin, murakami,
zen short-stories, some astronomy annual and lots of comics).
above that, two or three empty coffe cups (with dried-out capuccino
remains inside). a remixed u.n.c.k.l.e. blowing out the stereo,
two notebooks, one on heavy download with no empty space, the other:
the servant.
i went through twothousand&three. it was a damn hot summer and
lots of things happened, similar to those that are about to come.
the mere differences builds up on things experienced and things
forgotten. as a slight loose of interest...
a yoyo, lots of medical cream, an ashtray for the burned-up green stuff,
a pack of playing cards for practice.
magic teaches elegant tricks, especially when it comes down to the social
and interpersonal. but there's a mood for that.
(i prefer poor children around, whom i don't know)
astronomy kicked in since january but there's no sun since then,
no clear nights, but summer's up to come.
the egiptian cat, the indonesian lyzard, the wayang puppet
and the transylvanian devil stand still between sets.
guards of a decent, material kingdom.
well, life is full of tragedies, but therre's lots of comedy unfolding
[...]
it's time to go
29 feb 2008 at 00:00 am
plus ce change, plus ce le meme chose
(quebec memoire)
it's strange how we change in time...
as we try to squeeze our meanings as time passes,
or hide behind a family
to ease our solitude as human beings
in a world full of surprises.
we all deserve it,
but not all of us can have it though.
ambition should dirve us
as far as our youth can sustain itself.
sometimes we travel
to places we love and places we don't,
but we should all have
our sympathy for nature.
even when we climb those hazy mountains,
or sneak into deep caves
that hold the secrecy of silence.
because if we listen carefully,
they will show us how darkness
can teach us about intuition,
the most powerful tool of survival.
and the more we change,
the more we'll find ourselves
in the same circle of being - the same -,
in an ever renewing space
with it's desperate need for room.
the new generation has been born,
but doesn't define it's purpose yet.
9 jan 2008 at 19:02
messed around with the google maps api. check the result here:
travel map
it's quite friendly after all... if i would have some more
time for this, i would try the same shit with KML stuff,
seems more logical.
25 nov 2007 at 16:02
a weekend in london...
screenplay experiment
there's this bar,
that's only in the movies;
at the fancy cafe' table
there's black coffee romance
and hip, blue-eyed girl
in deep melancholy,
mascaraded,
behind black lashes,
rolled up in a velvet secret;
there's shining glamour
across the table,
and sceptic, soft harmonies,
reminiscent of old experience spots,
vivid memories
about a distant country,
at east and west,
in a quaint self-programmed
newspaper article,
with suggestive content,
on the other side,
faraway across the ocean,
swimming in rainbow neon light,
steaming, blazing
practical reality...
12 sept 2007 at 02:32
21 august 2007 at 12:58
a summer in prague...
20 july 2007 at 12:58
"gonna stand my ground and i wont back down"
it started as being on a diet for a while but
with time - and considerable weight loss -
i realised that is should be more about
a slight lifestyle change. some old personal photos
poped-up few days ago and i really wondered about the change
(and all other classic/usual existential shit)
the zen people treat it really simple,
the greek buddies (like Theseus) built
nice parables about this (ship of theseus).
quite a remarcable story...
lot's of tea (preferably camomille alternating with nettle)
lot's of water (at least 2l per day) lot's of c vitamine,
moderate dining after 18h, sports at least 1 time per week.
(4kgs behind in about one month ;)
~ everything within the gentle borders of rationality ~
13 july 2007 at 12:58
...as, to end up an era,
there should be something...
(something to remember
these experience beyond words -
as the motto gloriously cites)
well, not always something to say...
i'm not too good at it anyway.
i'm a computer guy, you know, nothing special
(whatever that means)
great job, good pay, great benefits,
but fuck me i hate money! always did...
one great paradox of life...
but i'm trying hard,
stop spending time seeking opportunities.
because, as some wise man wrote,
the decisive moment, the moment
that justified birth and death,
has already passed. it will not return,
but it was- full, dazzling, generous
as every revelation...
well, after all it was fun
...and hopefully will be!
20 may 2007 at 12:58
Taipei, Java, Bali
some new meanings...
When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego,
when we escape like squirrels turning in the cages of our personality
and get into the forests again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us so that we do not know ourselves.
Cool, unlying life will rush in,
passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt paper.
D.H. Lawrence, Escape
23 april 2007 at 03:35
The Killers' Vanilla
(Homage to A38 Tobin party)
An easy hand I need
that loads the tune
in a late night pagoda.
& ancient drums I need,
diffusing rhythm,
metallic cymbal patterns
to scratch the ceiling away
above the ringing side
of this antique caravel.
For deaf ears,
it's pure pantomime.
5 march 2007 at 03:35
Still-Mind Daguerreotype
Out in the wilderness
the meanings are broken
Spontaneous improvisations
may not help at showdown
Paradox may evolve
in sudden zen moments
with less meaning
less color
less time
less...
19 february 2007 at 03:35
...notes from the past,
notes from the future...
Dazzle
I keep vigil all night,
in a black coffee darkness
without sugar & full moon.
The collar of my topcoat
gives shelter & protects me
from the moral weight
of my loaded gun;
I'm laughing anyway,
lurching uncertainly
with a twisted spine.
My movements are tired this evening
and sitting about is painful.
Consonance's just an illusion,
bustling for a riot, deadbeat,
with dying waltz music
and morbid day-dreaming.
Their vocation derives from frustration,
around me, they grew old, untimely,
dead bodies, dried out faces.
They come, they shout, they get drunk,
and finally stumble
in depressive solitude,
sleeping till morning,
on confortable mattresses
by overheated stoves.
One day, I saw a footprint,
a masterly molded contour
on the crappy floor.
My thoughts ran on Crusoe,
alone, defenseless, naked,
on a deserted island.
I fought wild beasts last night.
1998 May / 2007 February, Elopatak
17 february 2007 at 03:35
virtualia
what about a virtual job,
in a virtual world,
and a virtual life.
we could save the real one
from polution and wars.
we could transpose our thoughts,
create another future,
idealized by television
fantasy & fiction
09 february 2007 at 16:40
Procrusticus
A southern soul
meets your appetite
while laying down
your fears.
Gives you
particular priviledge
& a bonsai haircut
while sleeping
in his bed.
Conformity is
obsolete.
23 january 2007 at 16:40
the wise reject what they think,
not what they see
- Huang Po
dead man's hand
i lost with two pairs,
like wild bill hickok
but i kept my life
& said 'no' to the invitation...
18 january 2007 at 16:40
utopia sunrise
the future brings on
origami soldiers
& creatures frozen
in cold taxidermy;
extraordinary species soaking
in formaldehyde vases
labeled with aluminium tags.
genetically manufactured angels
fly in the frozen sky
while soulful Saints design
the new book of life
between two bottles of absinthe.
happiness for sale
in small liquid capsules
with no side effects;
anyone can have wings
& keep hunting trophies
for the sake of appearances.
greetings & acknowledgements
are optional & nobody follows
the obsolete rules of the old book.
10 january 2007 at 16:40
sometimes i'm just quietly laughing
when those good-mood waves are passing by,
see myself in this huge carnival
as the quiet clown bozo, lacking showmanship,
tending to be the perfectionist magician
deceiving the minds of the good ones.
sometimes, i feel the absence of a bonsai tree
and increased imperfection.
and sometimes, i feel pity for the wrong ones,
who failed to walk the seven bridges of konigsberg...
they forgot the knowledge they once new,
the thousands of solutions drawn
on old school walls and silent churches.
some things to remember:
take one | take two
the old house
(notes from the past/notes for the future)
a squiggling street leads up
to the old house
that's fishing for compliments.
where the walls are whispering
and not listening anymore,
like in the old days,
when it was full of life.
i saw the future
in the coffee-grounds,
coiling up on me
with a slender smile,
but my thoughts were on the tulips
and i stowed away the vision,
some old books and the peace of mind.
so i learned to wait and see out,
a silent future and the evening of life.
30 october 2006 at 16:40
magisterial paranoia
(lex, rex, fex)
smooth sailing, ready for the handover
the cover-up monkeyshine session
will work out with a capricorn silence.
background beacon lights in a far future
siglals secession, urban bohemia exodus
pursued by officialdoms naphtalene coats
in a dead wardrobe, in long silence
we're all queueing for a solved case.
parched, embezzled fancy price
led on to eternal insomnia.
silence should kill us first...
the skeletons vanished on a rainy afternoon...
28 october 2006 at 8:28
marseille tarot
with my left hand, i choose the sun,
the fool wakes at dawn from his long, restless night
to find that the wild river has, at last, come to an end,
quietly floating him into a serene pool.
19 october 2006 at 22:53
i'm down the slope...
09 october 2006 at 22:53
the beautiful south
28 september 2006 at 22:53
taorminas props
we heard interesting stories
about Pulcinella and Columbina
from the greek theater's crouded street
where the player's act turned slowly
into a vague costume piece.
the silent shop-window
filled with amazements
unraveled its jugglers
sentenced to movelessness
and stoned actors meant for improvisation,
enchanted us in a silent confession.
the comedy took a new lease of life
when Dujardins's characters became alive
between the sets of the darkened shop-window
and performed their improvisational theater,
the famous Rostand peace
wherein the Gascon poet
fights a duel with Death
in a mindless fray
then drops down dead
to break his woman's heart
and turn our piece
into a ceremony of gloom.
people walked on by, silently,
beside the shadows of their inadvertence,
others stayed inside Brighella's cafe,
sent Arlecchino for a lukewarm capucino
and listenen to the harmonies
of a sweet calypso.
7 august 2006 at 22:53
war
everyone's dispendable - he said,
except those buried in the cemetery - i thought
the world doesn't changed much,
since ancient or pre-historic times.
it's getting on fire,
more and more, i'm afraid
still fighting
for a peace of ground in a dry desert,
for a peace of mind (without much sense)
in a competition for race,
religion, invasion, migration,
propagating their indestructible cancer
of war over the whole world...
i had a splitting headache
from wich the future is made
2 juune 2006 at 18:00
Last Days
Here is the strangest story of fortune,
exotic scenery, mistery and vaudeville,
with great tragedy and drama and pain,
about people and intrigue and fame.
First came the chinese Ching Ling Foo
With amazing tricks, famous he grew,
He offers then a few hundered bucks,
for the one who makes his famous stunt.
Rebuffed by Foo, Billy takes his style,
made himself up, now he looks celestial,
performing way better than Ching Ling Foo
He changed his name to Chung Ling Soo.
Then one fine day Mr.Chung Ling Soo
Performed his trick with the well known crew,
Put the gun at his wide gapping mouth
And the agile gunman made his shot.
Foo rebuffed Soo and Soo revenges Foo,
Soo fools Foo and Foo sues Soo,
Where is Foo and who killed Soo?
-
some clues for the poetry :)
who was Ching Ling Foo?
Last Days (the Gus Van Sant movie)
24 may 2006 at 23:12
live to share, share to live
few days ago, i left my Houdini book in one of the public places
of my company's office, just to experiment how much time it would
take for someone to notice it. the time frame proove to be really
short, as one of my colleague found it (by chance) in less than
2 days. eventually, i found out that my ideea was not an original one,
as there is a world wide community under bookcrossing.com,
which does something similar, something inspired by the currency
bill tracking, which was probably inspired by the ornithologists,
and so on (the chain or relations seems to be is endless ;)
the most traveled book went through 198 places (till today).
...another interesting form of spreading culture. enjoy :)
08 april 2006 at 23:12
hail to the thief!!!
04 april 2006 at 23:12
the world changed in so many ways,
while walking on the shores of heaven,
and the place had so many things to offer.
the man is greatfully tired,
while the world wastes - on the other side;
another dimension, another reality.
after all, i can only quote the old sinatra lyrics:
...tomorrow was another day
the morning found me miles away
with still a million things to say
now, when twilight dims the sky above
recalling thrills of our love
there's one thing I?m certain of
return I will to old brazil...
much happened, many things changed
i'm just confused, in many many ways...
carma manages
16 february 2006 at 19:22 PM
this is the most important time to be alive
- the pivot-of-history fallacy
while looking for some infos about the great train robbery
of 1963, i found this death list - not a whit morbid, by
the way -, that seems to lobby for ronnie biggs this year.
i remembered, that he's currently living in rio de janeiro,
but that prooved to be false, as he (unfortunately) returned
to britain in 2001 (where he spend his last days inprisoned)
one spot less while i'll be there...
update: some big names on the death list of 2006: Albert Hofmann,
Oscar Niemeyer, Claude Levi-Strauss, Joseph Barbera, Kirk Douglas,
Muhammad Ali, Ingmar Bergman, Margaret Thatcher, JD Salinger,
Tony Curtis, Nelson Mandela, Elizabeth Taylor...
10 february 2006 at 18:02 PM
if you have no hope, invent
- cirque du soleil
before journey
i cannot move the sea
from one place to another,
as others did sometime ago;
its waves took me a short time ago -
nobody noticed any sign.
the furious maelstrom occlude me
after i found pleasure in rage,
dragged me down in depths,
in doubt and disbelief...
someone said: i'm lost and blind
by cruelty and malice.
lazyness shook wories out of bed,
boredom is no longer my fate.
laugh away my catatonic stupor,
innstruct future
to scatter its grains of sand
free of gall and faint,
rived sticky idleness off my eyes.
i escaped from the prison
of my own reason for a while,
reached the edge of the new world,
waiting for justification.
-----------
watch your angles! (basic magicians saying)
2ö january 2006 at 19:56 PM
bystander effect: a social phenomenon in which a person
(or persons) are less likely to offer help to another
person (or persons) when there are more people around
who can also provide assistance.
- psychology glossary by AlleyDog.com
the dumbs and fools will always be around, and you will
still remain with your big questions unanswered, because
those 'big questions' are finally your questions and nobody
else's questions... as people do not see whatever they are
sure cannot be (there)
lucky strickes back
music: lemon jelly (the bath)
movie: 24 (season 2)
book: the satanic verses (s.rushdie)
[...] more revolution than evolution unfortunately...
9 january 2006 at 10:59 PM
when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
- ancient buddhist proverb
not really fresh news, but these days, i heard about this guy who
made 1 million $ by registering a domain like milliondollarhomepage.com
selling pixels for 1$ each... and he made something like 990.000
so far. no fancy technology, no tough programming, no challenge.
almost an illusion. now everyone can argue if he's a genius or the
world is so stupid to buy such a thing. i vote for the previous.
tautology
when you called, i was already called, and i couldn't call
you where they called me, because you wouldn't came. when i
called you, you didn't called me back, although the callers
were right people, because they called me. when we called
each other, the timing was wrong, and the callers couldn't
get each other. you called me again, but it wasn't right,
because of another call. where they called me, i couldn't call
you, because of the callers. then you didn't call me and i
didn't call you, just the old buddies called us, separately.
it seems that the world still keeps spinning, and also keeps me
spinning ahead to xxxi. so now, blessed with all the wisdom and
knowledge of the men in their early thirties ;) i hope i'll be smart
enough to break the code to my birthday present.
let's just keep that in mind: e8bf8IIdbe734c45f63874bcc0b24e5d
btw. dig myself into the world of magic. a perfect way to prepare
yourself to see the world in a different way. (& nothing's changed ;)
and that's the second flying jump. now, i'll let you all go salsa
dancing with your own confusions.
wish evryne a h.n.y.
15 november 2005 at 6:06 PM
i will rebel against the continuity of my actions!
after the sunday morning church service, my five years old grandchild
started drawing very studiously. when i asked her, what the artwork
will represent, she said: God.
- But nobody knows how God looks like - I said.
- When I'll be done, they will know - she reassured me.
/dressed for the kill/ years and years.
now clasp your hands together in front of you, interlocking your fingers.
which thumb is on top? if your left thumb is on top, it suggests that the
right side of your brain is dominant (and vice versa)
the left side of your brain is said to be more adept at language, logic and
linear thinking. the right side of your brain is said to control your visual,
spatial and intuitive processes.
could you follow me? how long is it since? follow me:
it seems that it's time for the greatest pop idols to touch some of the
oldtime disco patterns. the new numberone madonna hit wouldn't sound so
convincing as it does with the evergreen abba sample. 3 times GIMME ;))
i will rebel against my self-awareness!
drift all you like from ocean to ocean. search the whole world.
but drunken confessions and hijacked affairs will just make you
more alone. if you come home i'll bake you a cake made of all their eyes.
i wish you could come see me dressed for the kill. what a nasty surprise.
unplug the phone. stop all the taps. it all comes flooding back.
from poison cloud to poisoned dwarf. what a nasty surprise.
the worms'll come for you big boots. radiohead.
after building up all the complex forms, after surrounding himself
with all kind of usefull and useless things, he abandoned his hollistic
view about the facts of the worlds. he got tired of doing things on
regular basis, the daily tasks, getting up early, showering, etc.
so, he throw away everything that seems to be normal and usefull (or
useless). he started rebelling against his own self revelation, and
also abandoned searching. the ideea about his pathetic self-awareness
that suppose self-criticism. he refused to accept the continuity of his
actions as the certification of his deeds. and so, he stepped out, off
the track of linearity, and nobody knows what happened since then...
think about, after the saturady night fever passes... read about.
if one looks with a cold eye at the mess man has made of history,
it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that he has been afflicted by
some built-in mental disorder which drives him towards self-destruction. koestler.
we were learned how to behave, how to keep track on our daily actions.
kind of fascist thing in my opinion; and the orwellian machinery was
learned how to buzz everyone not obeying the system (2005 against 1984).
otherwise you will be doomed to expulsion.sion. let me be the brand new
candidate for a pariah. and i'll not give a damn shit about the machiavellian
intrigues, techniques, practices and forward advancing aspirations. i'm the
cancer advancing backwards. hail everyone insilence; i'm the product of
discordianism! this is nonsense,
forget about everything you read here.
4 november 2005 at 5:42 PM
paris, finally...
28 august 2005 at 9:42 PM
...chaos, theocracy, aristocracy, democracy, chaos...
- this is just a short moment in time - the man thought - and
again, he found himself pressing the many plus signs, and so
expanding the universe around him, and it's still far from
becoming finite (as it's not), and just got more lost in it.
people go to jail because smoking weed; spring lost it's flavour
in the big country; God punishing man for seeking knowledge;
and put other glaring injustices here; world is loosing it's
coherence again... and that's just how it should not be!
did someone said anarchy?
28 august 2005 at 9:42 PM
[...]
"Look."
"Where?"
"In the field."
"Well."
"Do you see that passer-by?"
"The man in black?"
"Yes."
"Who has a kind of mace in his hand?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well, Gwynplaine, that man is a wapentake."
"What is a wapentake?"
"He is the bailiff of the hundred."
"What is the bailiff of the hundred?"
"He is the proepositus hundredi."
"And what is the proepositus hundredi?"
"He is a terrible officer."
"What has he got in his hand?"
"The iron weapon."
"What is the iron weapon?"
"A thing made of iron."
"What does he do with that?"
"First of all, he swears upon it. It is for that reason that he is called the wapentake."
"And then?"
"Then he touches you with it."
"With what?"
"With the iron weapon."
"The wapentake touches you with the iron weapon?"
"Yes."
"What does that mean?"
"That means, follow me."
"And must you follow?"
"Yes."
"Whither?"
"How should I know?"
"But he tells you where he is going to take you?"
"No."
"How is that?"
"He says nothing, and you say nothing."
"But"
"He touches you with the iron weapon. All is over then. You must go."
"But where?"
"After him."
"But where?"
"Wherever he likes, Gwynplaine."
"And if you resist?"
"You are hanged."
[...]
v.hugo - the man who laughs
24 august 2005 at 6:30 PM
the matter of choice and the godfather's dilemma:
either your brains or your signature would be on the contract.
maybe i should proceed alike...
17 august 2005 at 5:00 PM
here's the circus
that brings entertainment from time to time - no entrance tickets needed! -,
the ferris-wheel's for free today, and there's no door on the floor,
that's the pennyless circus of the kandy-coloured tangerine clown.
finally, the storm blew it all away,
no need to break the fourth wall anymore,
it all pass into existence, together with the figures of past.
jesus brought me coffe this morning, and we'd talked about time.
why drifting from side to side? shout at sheeps we didn't know?
why not emerge high on top, above the shadows that obscure the sun,
understand death? sure! i took some humor therapy these days,
lowered my blood pressure and reach inside,
found my cookbook with all the tasty things inside,
but take care, some of them really need prescription,
(you cannot say i didn't warned you...) so i welcome you to taste my bread - i didn't made,
and you can speak out loud, and say what's wrong with it,
and if you start reading my book,
it will take you thirty years to find your way outside.
~pull me out of this aircrash....~
and YES! i have time to spend, time to think,
to fuck things up if so i want, time to laugh,
time to sit back and chillout loud from nine to five,
and i'm really sad for all who buried themselves under
the deepest shit of some ideals that doesn't belong to anyone...
big smiles, BIIIG smiles!!
that's all folks...
11 august 2005 at 6:12 PM
is there any (sub)culture which embrace the
kind of poetry fired while dumping waste on
the bottom side? and say, try to tackle with
existentional issues - brain fueled by alcoholic
beverages, usually high-on-top regarding
mind-ambience -, sort of small commercial
spots for "commons", try and raise attention
on /somekindof-great/ truths connected to our
daily life? check this out: latrinalia.org
this is the end of the world news..............
.........................sponsored by God......
ps: i'm lost within lost
27 july 2005 at 1:18 AM
eu-road-trip-pictures
22 july 2005 at 4:01 PM
there's something around the corner, a smile,
the realm of sudden showers - maybe i should
call noah -, or a poem maybe...
rain rain, silver rain,
flow your tears, down the drain,
down the creeks, to the roots,
walking watering my boots.
wash my head, wash my car,
wash the dust, ache is far,
bring the message from the sky:
wrong number, please!
or a joke, or what? something...
a rabbi and a priest attend a boxing match.
they watch as the boxers come into the ring.
the rabbi sees one of the boxers cross himself.
so the rabbi turns to the priest and asks...
"what does that mean?"
the priest says, "not a damn thing if the man
can't fight."
do you think it has a moral? is there any left?
(...from the set of restrictions used to cement
loyalty to a mythology and the church that sells it)
cut off the mind road.
7 july 2005 at 3:54 DU
you are, what you are searching for
- a possible motto for the google guys...
i'll left for a ten days road-trip through europe. although it's
a big slice from the european fancy cake, I hope we'll have time
to enjoy the things and not just drive and drive over the highways.
till then, take my (discordian) word of wisdom, and don't worry
about avoiding temptation, as you grow older it starts avoiding
you anyway.
29 j?nius 2005 at 1:44 DU
some people were movie stars, and some people
were rock stars. Me? I was a pot star
- Boston George
22 j?nius 2005 at 3:05 DU
footsteps...
i dreamed that i was walking down the
beach with the Goddess. and i looked back
and saw footprints in the sand.
but sometimes there were two pairs of
footprints, and sometimes there was only
one. And the times when there was only
one pair of footprints, those were my
times of greatest trouble.
so i asked the Goddess, "why, in my greatest
need, did you abandon me?"
She replied, "I never left you. Those
were the times when we both hopped on one
foot." and so, i was really embarassed
for bothering Her with such a stupid question.
- apocrypha discordia
17 june 2005 at 1:44 DU
the machine pull in with terrible creaking,
like a bad nightmare, synapses triggered
more intensely, the plants grown up to the skies;
and the words of the satanic verses flowed
silently into my mind.
14 june 2005 at 12:24 DU
the positive attitude, suitable for last night's circumstances,
and the juvenile milieu, shone with happiness, and the musicians,
who just outgrew from underground, were performing way better
than last time. moments and intermezzo; by my left, in the crowd,
i saw mona-lisa, fluctuating with her white coloured porcelain nails,
with a half smoked lucky between her fingers. her friend,
the younger osbourne girl, jumping around, trying to convince me
how easy will be to come back with two beers. positive attitude,
cultural burst, holistic performance. everyone is asked to tell
his story...
25 may 2005 at 11:06 DU
mostly poland.
there is something trembling and really unsettling in that place,
and i think it will last forever...
disturbing tranquility behind the windows and bars,
coldness around the barbed wire fence,
the howling silence of those who perished there,
and the contemptuous writing over the gate.
fatigue took me for a short sleep...
12 may 2005 at 4:48 DU
i really like the endless optimistic view, that sometimes, perfectly
identifies with zen.
Unmon said: I do not ask you about fifteen days ago. But what about
fifteen days hence? Come, say a word about this!
Since none of the monks answered, he answered for them:
Every day is a good day.
12 april 2005 at 5:07 DU
not haiku
should i be proud about the [...] i've done?
put my ego in the window,
searching for the things unknown?
better let it melt in sunshine,
till it's rain and air and flow.
4 april 2005 at 10:33 DU
at athens.
25 march 2005 at 8:49 DE
meeting an old friend...
21 march 2005 at 2:53 DU
three witches watch three swatch watches.
which witch watch which swatch watch?
how much wood would a woodchuck chuck,
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?...
et cetera
2 march 2005 at 3:34 DU
tha man said: these days, the real status symbol is
not having a mobile phone. and i replied: no, the real
status symbol is not having an email address
25 february 2005 at 1:58 DU
Thursday after Wednesday (hun)
The bitter taste of emptiness,
that's what it is.
I feel it in my mouth, exuding,
when existence tip out
of its slothful balance.
The sigh of books on shelves,
the words oppressing me,
thoughts moving about, rain.
Raindrops on berm,
flowing on my window,
fall into the pit - brain clacking.
Awaking from a nightmare again,
with spiders under the bed, everywhere;
I'm waiting for tomorrow,
maybe there'll be sunshine;
fear is getting-out,
crawling up the walls, up on houses.
Night came upon me.
One. Two is an exception.
The three of us,
traveling at the same table,
one falls,
walls resonating,
mices laughing around,
crawling, blind mices,
fluctuating tunes,
the walls of my room,
books came upon me again,
Nietzsche and friends,
I didn't knew him
when I was seventeen,
the theme was different.
Silence salutes me,
apostrophizing,
enchant me when I stay silent,
I see nothingness before me,
the meaning of nothingness:
The emptiness.
Sun is rising again,
everything starts again.
Curtains up, put your smile on.
Look at me and keep smiling,
with glittering teeth, white-hot,
bone beneath,
soul beneath,
void beneath.
Sitting on my bed,
reflecting again,
the picture is splitting up,
small peaces, its puzzle I think...
I cannot see the details,
I fall apart... like Kierkegaard?
but don't sweep me up,
I'm all right,
I'm quicksilver, lustering,
dilateting in thermometer,
showing temperature,
in celsius?
Or overseas? Fahrenheit,
the old fool,
heart beating,
salt melting.
Let me reinvent myself:
new face, new soul,
my appetite wings the air,
don't trust me,
I cannot see the future,
forgot the past as well,
don't ask, coz if I'll answer
you wouldn't understand,
no roundness, no fulness,
but the picture is getting shape,
colors are coming,
Picasso help me!
No, he can't, he's dead, no problem,
I'll manage, I'll contrive, I'll forge,
globalizing locally,
combining colors,
jump in depths,
swirling matter,
two colors are enough?
That's arty they said:
the critics, the laymen, the stoics
with glassy faces,
emotion doesn't affect them,
the drama is evolving.
Enough of today.
Curtains down!
15 februaryr 2005 at 5:00 DU
how could i not look into the flaming arc, when it's
so catchy...
does anyone know what's that thing, that triggers and
pique interest in someone about something? And keeps
someone interested in that subject-matter (for a while)?
form me right now, this subject is history. i'm living my
JFK period nowdays. It's really frightening to see how
mankind get tangled up into its own mysteries, to see how
selfish interests, money and political power misled a whole
natinon (world) by falsity. maybe truth would be a perfect
concept, but man think far too light of it. i'll try to keep
in mind what Sartre said about history: try not to indulge
yourself to deep into it, otherwise you may loose interest.
3 February 2005 at 4:31 DU
got lost in the frothy vision of clouds. the vision that brings
shape to every child's fantasy. i saw mountains and the curled
waves of the ocean. Sometimes, a face emerged for a short while,
then melt into the big blue. time and space ceased to exist.
later, my father's clout brought me back to reality. red spots
covered the gray floor, huge drops flew, like a sudden summertime
shower, watering the arid soil. i felt the unnaturally soft
substance of the cotton, creeping up into my nose. The white
clouds turn red and a purple sun was burning in the sky.
1 February 2005 at 4:06 PM
the poets,
the novelists,
the essayists,
the folklorists,
the playwrights,
the screenwriters,
the humorists,
the actors,
the spectators,
the photographers,
the painters,
the sculptors,
the architects,
the musicians,
the teachers,
the priests,
the historians,
the swindlers,
the thiefs,
the liars,
the bloggers:
everybody wants to tell a story.
31 January 2005 at 2:26 PM
verbal remix
when i died, i found myself in a cold, darken room. it seemed that god
forgot about me. nobody called my name. i wrote a book, and it's title
appeard on the license plate of the car right outside. i saw death
creeping before us, on the road, and we run through. i closed my eyes.
when i woke up, we were in the city. ten years passed since we set off.
there was summer the last time we talked and tried to expound the drama
around us. it seemed that we pass over it. when the story ended, we didn't
knew when all this started. then i saw the moon before the mountains.
darkness blew the shapes away, and swallow the matter. i forgot who i was.
death is not like i thought it will be...
12 January 2005 at 11:31 PM
{2005 short novell self-contest}
the Spiral
/universalia post res/
On the spiral, that guides everyone’s life twine - that could be perceived
even as a three-dimensional map -, there are several determinative stages.
The revelation and interpretation of these stages is of a key importance
to everyone, and firmly determine the further development. In this sense,
there is no general model, merely rough patterns, conjectures and allusions.
The time and space continuum set a form of linearity, that forces us to move on,
from past towards future, through the incomprehensible moment of present.
However, the relative nature of time, results in a constant variation of
the circle radiuses drawn by the spiral. The farther we get from the center,
the slower the time flow gets, and the closer we get to the center, the faster
it gets. This phenomenon is experienced by every human being. On the arcs
of the spiral of life, knowledge and non-knowledge is scattered, that is
free to be comprehended and interpreted by everyone. The words (symbols),
the abstract concepts and the things we cannot explain to ourselves, all
belong here. These exist outside us, but get shape within ourselves through
thoughts, complex sentences and coherency. These kind of specific circles,
on the chronological arcs of the spiral entail cycles. Those can be found
everywhere and frame the orderliness of life and nature, the orderliness
of the universe. In this cyclical world, with space-time curvature,
everything begins in the center, and everything ends in the center.
In nothingness. When we reach the end of the spiral-twine, the falling begins.
hungarian
7 January 2005 at 10:01 AM
the eyes of a portrait, a painting from another century, follow me
around the room, watching my steps, while i made my theory about
forms and clours. try to imagine the mirrors of lavoisier, the 18-th
century and paris by winter... a nice moment in time.
taking the epic ride
nostalgy strikes me with it's astonishing surprise, unannounced,
unplanned for, like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought
to bed. a tune, a short glimpse, a movie, a flavour on the right
moment. today i thought about hamburg, where I spent one of my birthdays.
and another half a year of my life. the glittering lake on the middle of
the city, chilling harbour with floating seagulls. and all the glamour
that we didn't find the day before... i'm not sure what to expect from
this year. not even sure that the other one passed already!?
does someone already said: the way we live, the way we die.
5 January 2005 at 11:20 AM
new year started?
The last couple days of days spent in the austrian alps, were
certainly a good mental, and also physical regeneration.
Skiing is a very good sport, that helped me to unhitch from
the routine weekdays. Off-beat relaxation. The first two cities
of this year: Salzburg and Vienna. Salzburg with the castle and
it's amazing marionette museum, Vienna with the Hundertwasser
architecture and the Freud museum. No stereotype phrases and
profoundness. A good start for 2005.
new year started!
23 December 2004 at 10:12 AM
Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.
- Pink Floyd
21 December 2004 at 12:57 PM
science-fiction movies were always taken well by me, although
it seened that no real good movies came out these days, but
this week i saw two great, animated movies already, and that
certainly prooves the contrary. first, both looked like a biblical
rap, placed in a sci-fi story, but when gods came into the picture,
they went into a complex mythology, and later grew up into great,
deliberate fantasy stories. critics vary of course, depending
on the norms of everyone's aesthetic sense, and we argued a lot
about the question of originality (if such concept exists anyway)
and innovation in this works, then got to the point that reusing
sources like the bible or any ancient mythology, does not make a
movie a plain copy of another one, just because the same element
appeared in both. irrespectively of that, and i cannot react
objective when it's about art, i liked both movies. the first
one: kaena, the secont one: immortel
15 December 2004 at 2:42 PM
wintertime madness
narrow furrows on the shrilling streets of megalomania,
gave shelter from despair. and psychoanalysis.
a short release from machinery, the slavery incorporated.
let me break the overflowing champagne glass!
9 December 2004 at 3:00 PM
i was inspecting the abstract patterns on the glazed
tiles on our bathroom wall, in a way that dali defined
something like irrational knowledge based on a delirium
of interpretation. what cought me about this observation,
was the subtle transfiguration of the shapes,
first the face of an angel, then my face, then my face
with a huge scar on my forehead. fatigue prevail over me.
office-time-surviver-show... 2 hours left
3 December 2004 at 11:27 AM
savarin au rhum
('Let them eat cake' she says
just like Marie Antoinette
- Killer Queen)
everyone is adviced to serve it with the new exotic delight called
chocolate. extravagants and those disposed for overkill should
be careful (the royal physician predict the cacao to be addictive)
25 November 2004 at 4:42 PM
oil flew over the troubled waters.
22 November 2004 at 4:57 PM
the journalists monologue
fell right into the middle of global community... knew
how to navigate. it was easy. the dubious ways of navigation,
the blue spot on the screen showed me the way, somewhere.
then things end up and prooved to be right, the phenomena called art
unfold it's reality for the world, at least for a part of it.
the need for fresh words is not in the fancy of everyone.
made a few photos in my solitude, three. then let the fantasy flow.
cynism working as usual. constantly. things cannot be right,
the grapple, the acquaintances, and all the other things.
shot the facts, one after the other, glide throught the place,
virtually as well, zero in with a drink, a vodka-orange fits perfectly,
transparent zombie animals draw near, the space run high,
only spirituality keeps me on top, looking for the fix spot,
rigid matter in the ocean, falling. gravitation.
17 November 2004 at 3:21 PM
change of season
father to his son: fluctuations of the mood
are common these days.
when autumn pass into winter, stripping trees and minds,
a post melancholic spirit determine the way of feelings. mostly.
the lack of inspiration inhibit further progress on things
interrupted. the need for inner dialogues... and a bottle of vine.
tomfool outlook from the bottommost corner of the room.
imagine, kick time, idle mind.
mother to his son: if i knew you'll be so stupid,
i would had been better swallow you.
miss the things that rev me up.
11 November 2004 at 10:57 AM
i woke up on a blurry gray-coloured dawn,
acompanied by Borges, with his metaphysics
dressed in poetry, found tranquility,
eventually the push for sailing,
right into the ambience of monotonic traffic,
fell again in the usual space,
and easily threw away, the worries of my life.
10 November 2004 at 3:50 PM
from an interview with U.Eco:
Q. In "The Name of the Rose", there was a serious discussion
of whether Jesus laughed. Do you believe that God has a
sense of humor?
A. What is the strange and unique property of a human being?
To know we are mortal ... which is an important piece of
knowledge, if not so exciting. And I think just because we
are the only ones to know we have to die, we are the only
ones who try to react by laughing. In this sense, if God
exists, he has no need to laugh. But maybe he would smile...
(laughs).
complete text
7 November 2004 at 9:13 PM
menace to sobriety
when he failed at the final 'serious' test of his innocent life,
we already knew, that knowledge and literacy cannot be measured
by numbers, and all those men who formed the committee, are not
worthy for this appreciation. supported by the rigour of the elder
generation, the arrogant young one, spoke with a fake gaze, blaming
those who dissent the comon accepted old interpretations. i always
thought about anachronism, as a positive phenomenon and not some
kind of glitch, even if things seemed strange at the time. maybe i
should contemn those who, by ignorance, were unable to discover the
values and made so much harm to the evolving generation, but
unfortunately, that's how things work here, there,... everywhere?
after all, he fell pray to debauchery, and... end of story.
everyone happy? content?
28 October 2004 at 3:20 PM
the vague future was something about drowning somewhere in the
depths of the ocean, but then i changed my mind, and drown myself
in a cup of red vine from the last century. laughing unconscious,
woken by the lovely senorita...
pass the tequila Manuel
listen gringo
laugh at my lisp and i kill you
i think!
ahh this spanish music
it sets my soul on fire
lovely senorita
your eyes are like stars
your teeth are like pearls
your ruby lips senorita
a spanish piece - pink floyd
25 October 2004 at 1:02 AM
tales from barcelona.
22 October 2004 at 3:13 PM
a weird game of emotions is getting shape, reactions of the
body, humor and low fever. a quaint stream in the chain of
reactions. after one week spent in barcelona, i really asked
myself: what the fuck am i doing back here? cold, rain,
darkness. the most compelling architectural artwork, the warm
weather in late october, the mediterranean sea, and the
looseness of spanish people, all tempted to be caught in a
small black box, remained vivid in my memories. a photo update
will come soon...
11 October 2004 at 4:30 PM
i join in later today, got a bit async into the corporate workday
monotony. shallowness. rubing my blearily eyes, saw the manager miss
on the corner, driving her limo while mobile-talking, in the late
morning, sunshine everywhere...
she wants to know am i still a slut,
i've got to take it on the other side
and i just head-bang, back and forth... the rhythm of the bass, almost
tribal. got into the office and went beside the kitchen, the open
kitchen-door, breath the smell of fresh milled coffe and imaginary
cigarettes combined with apple filings, like a black&white Jarmusch movie,
than take another breath from the toilet breeze... corporate shit.
no lunch today anyway.
i forgot what i wanted to say.
11 October 2004 at 1:02 AM
some clues about friday...
there are basically only two subject matters in all Western culture:
sex and death. we do have some ability to manipulate sex nowadays.
we have no ability, and never will have, to manipulate death.
- Peter Greenaway
7 October 2004 at 6:32 PM
happiness comes unexpectedly. when it does, no one want it to end,
and a desperate attachment develops, so everyone try to hang onto
the feeling. we become victims of our own desires in the vicious
game of manipulation, learned from our chaperones. the simple fact
that we can not always have what we want, makes us unhappy. the ever
growing expectations turns us into puppets; puppets in our self-directed
dramaturgy, placed in the context of the present social scene. that's
how we forget about transience, that's how we fail to accept the natural
flow of things. there's no need for regret about the passing moment
of happiness, rather be open for the next wave, and let it find you
instead of you seeking it.
6 October 2004 at 3:10 PM
[...] who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed,
and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended
fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come
eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in
the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared
to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under
barns and naked in the lake [...]
- Allen Ginsberg /Howl/
27 September 2004 at 2:20 PM
many years ago, some of my old friends, those with artistical
temper, had a chance to saw and grasp a lot of the so-called
influential "art-work" and mainstream culture of the early
sixties to late nineties. i'm thinking about the movies here.
at that time, in the old (communist) regime, this kind of stuff
was almost impossible to acquire, unless you had an acquaintance
at some art school. who would believe a few years ago, that all
this stuff will fall right into my hands, so that now, i just need
the time to receive all this powerful material. i cannot say i'm
happy that i missed this stuff at that time, but i'm happy that i
can see it nowdays, btw i had this thought that it's a different
thing to comprehend something at 18 than at 28, and so on.
moreover, i'm grateful for all this friends who influenced me in
this direction. i recall the famous P.Greenaway quote:
But thinking of cinema being a dinosaur, you know what they say
about dinosaurs: the brain dies but it takes maybe several weeks
before that message gets to the tail. So if we're lucky, maybe,
the notion of conventional celluloid cinema has perhaps one or two
generations to run. But then I'm sure, quite happily, we'll see the
end of it. I would cry no tears for it because I'm quite convinced,
and there's no reason not to think this, that all the new languages
will certainly be soon giving us, I won't say cinema because I think
we have to find a new name for it, but cinematic experiences, which
is going to make Star Wars look like an early sixteenth century
lantern-slide lecture.
23 September 2004 at 3:41 PM
we were shouting and wrangling, then observing the reactions.
after a lot of mistakes and failures, i got to a certain
level of steadyness, where i knew that everything a man
does to hit the target, is the idealistic impersonation
of his purposefulness. that happened after a short series
of epiphanies, when everything got clearer and simpler.
that's the point where everyone should reconsider and meditate
between the severance path of givens (or makings) and the
one of facilities.
20 September 2004 at 1:18 PM
the things you own end up owning you.
- T. Durden, Fight Club
sometimes i can feel the growing abyss between people.
social and relational abyss. how material aspects of
things and relations, drown neighbours deep down, right
into the vicious vortex. what can i do about it?
stupidity is not a crime ;) there is a discordian principle
before my eyes. wink at it and try to smile. sincerely...
GREATER POOP: Is Eris true?
MALACLYPSE THE YOUNGER: Everything is true.
GP: Even false things?
M2: Even false things are true.
GP: How can that be?
M2: I don't know man, I didn't do it.
15 September 2004 at 3:49 PM
there's a ship on the picture, that sails towards a small island,
sanded shores and palm-trees. deserted island. the melting edges run
into a deeper frame of mind. it's surprising how this invisible force
that holds tight everything, keep the whole reflection from a tragic
disintegration. it's tremendously frigid. nothing moves. just some
words of an unknown mask echos in my mind. blog is obsolete. and the
slogan itself. is.
7 September 2004 at 2:18 PM
i came in a few times, lately. delicate green stuff on the sidewalk.
and the new darkened glasses for the new building. the guy stands
there, waiting for nothing. that's the job. at least he can think.
think about the weather. slow walk through the yard, my footsteps
raise some dust. that's how things work, when there's no rain.
rain man, late man. no man. some divergence between thoughts, result
some contradictions, even paradoxes. everyone seems busy with
interpretations, and try to find some highly effective word, to express
himself, to make some more blur around the subject. this is the new
lifestyle. everyone is an expert in rhetoric. who cares? i know what
i think, there's no need to construe complexity into simplicity.
switch sides sometimes, try to look from another coast. that will
change your point of view, you can be sure about that. when leaving,
struggling with the same book, on the same day. the free stream of
thoughts. words written from the heart. the guy is still there, with
a bigger stomach, some more beers maybe. the world seems silent and
indolent these days. lazy walks, slowness, debauchery. great perspectives.
the sun flashes form the other side, right into my eyes. it makes me
wanna hide behind. waiting for twilight. embrace me, while you can.
31 August 2004 at 11:22 PM
the malta experience... in pictures
19 August 2004 at 8:02 PM
left for one week holiday...
till then, here's something more to think about:
I Want The Earth Plus 5%
19 August 2004 at 2:15 PM
Momomoto, famous japanese, can swallow his nose.
discordian zen moment /link/
A serious young man found the conflicts of mid 20th Century America
confusing. He went to many people seeking a way of resolving
within himself the discords that troubled him, but he remained
troubled.
One night in a coffee house, a self-ordained Zen Master said to him,
"go to the dilapidated mansion you will find at this address which
I have written down for you. Do not speak to those who live there;
you must remain silent until the moon rises tomorrow night. Go to the
large room on the right of the main hallway, sit in the lotus position
on top of the rubble in the northeast corner, face the corner, and
meditate."
He did just as the Zen Master instructed. His meditation was frequently
interrupted by worries. He worried whether or not the rest of the
plumbing fixtures would fall from the second floor bathroom to join
the pipes and other trash he was sitting on. He worried how would he
know when the moon rose on the next night. He worried about what the
people who walked through the room said about him.
His worrying and meditation were disturbed when, as if in a test of
his faith, ordure fell from the second floor onto him. At that time
two people walked into the room. The first asked the second who the man
was sitting there was. The second replied "Some say he is a holy man.
Others say he is a shithead."
Hearing this, the man was enlightened.
Mr. Momomoto, famous japanese who can swallow his nose,
has been exposed. it was recently revealed that it was
Mr. Momomoto's brother who has been doing all this nose
swallowing.
11 August 2004 at 1:52 PM
faithless /sziget festival 2004/
this is my church the voice announced, loud. and the
huge mass of pulsing flesh, reached apogee through a
wave of happiness. the stream of sound blew out close to
the higher extremities. at least that was allowed. between
voice and drum. it should be great to be on the other side,
to see how things look like from the north pole. speak out
freely: i only smoke weed when i need to and i need to
get some rest... a memorable fancy
11 August 2004 at 1:40 PM
funeral
the priest spoke with the flavour of universality.
spoke about sin. about the perfect god. infinity.
nothing personal. my aunt died at 81, after three
long years of suffering. god rest her soul.
4 August 2004 at 11:33 AM
the multitude of choices...
first i had a mitsubishi eclipse, a nice sport car, a red one,
the cars which were on my favourite list at the begining. then
i found out about the toyota celica and that become my next car.
i liked the forms, the shapes, a real candy coloures tangerine
flake streamline. then a shity opel tigra, which was the worst
choice. small and claustrophobic. the next one was the calibra
model of opel. a large coupe, with all the extras inside. and then,
an opel astra classic came, then a seat leon and now a citroen c3.
unfortunately all this cars were own imaginary. more than half a
year passed, and i still don't have a car.
28 July 2004 at 10:57 AM
the sources of inspiration are boundless.
in one of his (night) conversation, J.L. Borges talks about the
The Book of One Thousand and One Nights, it's importance and
possible connections to the european romanticism. as small kid,
i read/heard some of the stories, but now i have just some vague
memories about them, the unique style, erotic feeling, et cetera.
accidentally, Borges also mentions one of the stories, about the two
dream-seeing guys, and that's quite similar with the best selling
novel of Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist. I loved the version
of Coelho, it's well written, very sensitive and of course it gives
much more with all the symbolic things, personal myth and all other
messages, but i think no one ever mentioned the strong connections
with the arabic frame tale.
27 July 2004 at 10:55 AM
it took a few months to understand the meaning of uselesness.
the senses. and the opportunities that were born...
once i had this ideea, of writing a novel about a strange
conversation of three men, an adolescent, a middle-aged
and an elder one, who happened to travel by night, in the
same darkened compartment. as a long journey was waiting
for them, a conversation is issued by one of them. anything.
in the course of time, they start having a weird presentiment
that they all know each other. in the end, they realize that
they are one and the same person, but at a different age,
in the same space in time, so the past, the present and
the future, got incorporated in this transcendental journey.
i never got more than this bare synopsis. but now, in the
dawn of uselesness, i got a new ideea. we'll see if i'll
manage to get a bit more out of that.
22 July 2004 at 12:32 PM
22/7 (~today)
groups of people, typically pi clubs, give thought to the
role that the number pi has played in their lives and imagine
the world without pi.
- wikipedia.org
12 July 2004 at 1:09 PM
intermezzo
...after a while, he took out his knife, and cut the cat in two.
his question was if that was a good or a bad action. {silence is
useless, speech is wrong. what can you do?}... i dug a hole and
buried the cat.
2 July 2004 at 4:34 PM
wednesday. austria. schonbrun palace. air concert.
a great gig, with great people and wienna by night.
i'll post some pictures later, although most of
them are a bit blurred because of the visibility
and the shitty camera.
update: pictures
25 June 2004 at 11:19 AM
it strikes me we get lost so soon after birth
but one smile can turn-over heaven and earth
- Lamb
what if it can't get any better? sensual delusion.
does the overstep philosophy still work then?
ambiguous building rocks and desires fall into oblivion.
urge overkill. the daily snivels accompanied by smiles -
oxymoron maxima. slowly ascendent cheer, between the
limits of self-consciousness. ludicrous. daily contest,
sometimes qualifying round. there is something very common
about all of us. there's nothing as sure as the advent of
that very moment. some sort of great faith? we get closer
to it day by day, and there's nothing to stop us on our
way towards. quo vadis? our old friend, who seems to be
a stranger all the time. experiences, acrimonious reflections,
good or bad influence. getting older, getting wiser,
getting mindless. stupid. no matter who we are, where we are,
what we believe in. all who taste the sweetness and the
bitterness - profane world - all who create or destroy
some parts of it, no matter how pure or how sinful.
temptations. the life we live, the people we meet. doubt.
does that matter anyway? hope. he's there, dressed in
whatever colour, and waiting. at. the end.
22 June 2004 at 11:07 PM
every jeep/truck/etc. should be stamped with this decal:
I"M CHANGING THE CLIMATE
two thumbs down
20 June 2004 at 12:56 PM
today's spam
philosophers remain hairy. omphalos over fire hydrant procrastinates,
and defined by pork chop hibernates; however, haunch of garbage can
confess... if dilettante living with brainwash ribbon related to,
then from particle accelerator gets stinking drunk.of recliner make
love to plaintiff of bubble. dogging microfiche dwarf annapolis
16 June 2004 at 11:06 AM
it is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision
as to be born
- Joyce /Ulysses/
bloomsday {i wade myself through the first few chapters,
and of course through his genuine writing style. great.
both. and szombathely, that's also funny.}
if there's no crappy weather, i'll celebrate with beer
instead of wine, otherwise movies and food.
anyway, tomorrow we'll be awakened from our nightmares,
and live through the whole scene, again and again and again.
the pain is far away right now.
7 June 2004 at 2:37 PM
great faith. great doubt. great effort.
imagine a statement within the set of ethics, that has no proof
within ethics. let this statement be "there is God" and treat it
like any other statement in ethics.
if this particular statement is proovable within ethics, then our
statement is false and this would make ethics incosistent.
therefore, "there is God" must be unprovable, and thus true.
if "there is God" is true, then the negation, "there is no God",
must be unprovable, otherwise "there is God" would be false.
because neither "there is God" or "there is no God" is unprovable,
ethics is incomplete.
if we try to prove that ethics is consistent, we prove "there is God",
which is impossible. therefore, ethics cannot be proven to be
consistent or complete.
that's what happens if you play around with ethics and mathematics.
3 June 2004 at 4:14 PM
[...] i like the smell of rain.
it has something purifying,
like the corrosives of Blake,
(from the depths of Hell)
cleaning in a different way
watering dusty roads of this urban decay.
1 June 2004 at 5:41 PM
the last day of may
26 May 2004 at 10:40 AM
i always thought, that the use of incense is something
peaceful and balmy thing. it helps meditation, make
spiritual ambience and so on. based on experience,
i think so this very moment, but a few day's ago i left
myself near a burning incense stick and i was breathing
so much of the fume - and i realize that, just when the
incense was almost gone - that it turned out to be a
nauseously, bad feeling.
...and a zen koan for the story:
A nun, who searched for enlightenment in many temples,
always carried with her a little Buddha she had carved
for herself out of wood, and which she had covered with
gold leaf. It was very pretty.
One day she came to stay at a temple where there were many
Buddhas. Whenever she burned incense before her golden Buddha,
she begrudged the others any of the savor, and so she always
used a little funnel that carried the smoke of the incense
straight to her Buddha's nose. Within a week her Buddha was
laughable - his face no longer was gold leaf, but black smut.