Category: Words

Consider “R.E.M. Crush with Eyeliner”: Southern punk

Keep in mind these boys was outta Georgia (pronounced gee-or-ja).

Slick ass song. Knowledge of the band’s backstory qualifies this song for punk status.

Impressively apt, sardonic, and nonchalantly bold given the socio-cultural setting from which they emerged.

The Dirty South (american) ain’t so famously hospitable to its own if they don’t act right.

REM helped begin to open minds.

~

In areas with strong currents of cultural homogeneity…

(places where like-minded people have political control, religious influence, and both the financial and social currency to back these up), places like all places, places were regular, good people generally try and think that they are doing their best. like you. and me.)

…outliers are not well-tolerated.

Much like the way statistics may choose to formulate its treatment of those non-standard members of any given data set (sic. matrix).

If you record the result of the same experiment being repeated over and over a statistically significant number of times (iteration/Law of Large Numbers), and then note that on one occasion the result the experiment yielded was way, way dissimilar to the other results, you may then designate it as a statistical anmoly.

Termed an outlier: A member of the set that qualitatively and quantitatively appears alien when viewed in contrast to the uniformity of the character (standard distributions about a bell curve) of all other set members.

It is not uncommon to simply dismiss outliers from your analysis of the data. Just pretend their correlative relationship to the other data points insignicant.

Not affective. Like not even there. Incapable of producing change. To Unaffect.

To alienate the affection/loyalty of ; to fill with discontent & unrest. To Disaffect.

Unaffected.

Disaffected.

Perhaps the issue is that the mathematical formulae chosen and applied to the data set (in order to yield analysis and enable analyization of that object we study) are improper.

e.g. trying to explain a nonlinear system using linear mathematics: results will (always) be yielded when math is applied, but how useful are they and what do they ignore?

The phrase is “the outlier’s effect on our object of inquiry is statistically insignificant (aka mathematically negligable) so we will not include it when we analyze our data with math formulas.”

Statistical Insignificance.

Foreward to a Rude Awakening

She saw the purpose right away. The ritual had efficacy. The elegance of movement indicated carefree, nonchalance. Something had been done a million times throughout the years. A habitual action that the young woman reenacts through time and time again. Simply slipping her keyring onto a finger while the other hand unclasps the handbag on her arm, the young woman then drops her keys in the purse and reclasps it closed. This she did without looking. Her hands knew the routine already.

Utter grownup magic to the eyes of the kindergarten girl.

She suddenly cannot wait to have keys of her own. One to this place. This one to another. A big black plastic capped car key would provide variety. The more keys the better. And also, she would have a small collection of essential stuff, so many little things. A purse would be needed to carry all her little stuff. And for her keys too.

She would need a phone with her always; and perhaps a piece of important paper that she may be called upon to present. It would be kept, neatly folded, and handy. The bag would have both zipper and clasp closures. Hands with painted fingernails made a difference too, the little girl noted. She would remember this for when she got older, she thought.

This was the height of adult culture, maturity; the pure glamour of young adulthood to very young children.

She would be sure to throw in a mumbled gripe (I just have got to clean this bag out) said to no one in particular. This acknowledgement of her faith in cleanliness and organization showed she was always looking for more that could be done.

Yes. She would grow up to be a busy lady, she decided. Be one who juggled keys and bags without looking. Her hair style would be on point and her makeup would be on too. She would be pretty and only wear lovely clothes, like high heeled shoes that click on hardwood and sidewalk and lanolieum. Everything would make her smile at people. She would speak with her hands, using animated expressions that were almost but not quite panto.

She would always remain put-together and successful at whatever came her way. She would know what the other ladies were all doing too, the stuff she’s supposed to do, like be the best. Act like someone who gets it, you know?

She would be no weak-willed, lazy type who needs to just get over it already. There was no artistry to their keyring handling. No one admired their not nimble fingers as they shoved keys into bags.

They did not smile nearly as much as the other lady grown ups. They must be miserable and have sad lives.

She thought to herself: I mean, smiling means you are happy. Right? The other ladies have to be happy, yeah? Otherwise, they would not smile. Or is that just the face lady grown ups wear?

No, thought the girl. They must be happy. Just look at their keys! Their purses came to smell like sticks of spearmint gum. They were always on the go. I’ll never be still, thought the girl. I’ll always need to be somewhere. I’ll always know an interesting thing to say. My reactions will be adorable and cute too.

Like people on screens, she saw how she would act and pose to play the part of lady grown up.

What a strange dream of childhood from which to awake.

Underwriting Hypertextuality

Your lodestone enchants. I become your apposite:

Your loadstone.

Beloved in the three syllable (not two) sense.

My candid roses still bloom this winter;

Ruby flower petals reveal from buds;

A damsel draped in folds of purple silk.

A white horse under a blue silk saddle cloth.

A man adorned in vermillion,

caped in green silk.

Such is the mysterious experience of my soul. In catharsis.

Diabolical. Not good or evil. Beyond.

Strike your lucifermatch.

I can smell smoke as the head burns off of its length of woodstick.

Elemental and erudite. Enough already.

We need jesters not warriors.

We need simple fools in love.

Idiots both humble and at ease.

Affined anew.

Concupiscence becomes more about accompaniment than being accompanied.

Aged like a fine thing, and

Still

Ripening like a quickening.

Alephic aview.

Space and n-touples

You came from when. Not where.

You are what you is.

Not what you have been.

History’s circus tent contains three rings:

x (the lengthy ring)

y (the girthy width ring)

z (the ring of deeply depth)

From three dimensions we derive volume.

Adding the presence of an audience under the big top

yields tesseracts.

Formed by the eight lines connecting the verticies of two cubes:

representing a single dimension in the unseen fourth dimension.

Our vectors show us single spots as though they naturally situate in 4D space.

But without the conscious observer, what connects one cube to another?

Four dimensions.

Precense

1. the fact or condition of being present :

the state of being in one place and not elsewhere :

the condition of being within sight or call, at hand, or in a place being thought of

the fact of being in company, attendance, or association :

the state of being in front of or in the same place as someone or something

2. the part of space within one’s ken, call, or influence :

the vicinity of or the area immediately near one:

the place in front of or around a person

7. something (as a spirit, being, or influence) felt or believed to be present

Inverting Bodies in Motion

What happens if inertia, itself, becomes inert?

Does this mean then that the tendency of matter would be to embrace acceleration?

Displacing a disposition to remain inactive with a

novel propensity for motion?

Latin inert-, iners

unskilled ; idle ; motionless

Abject and supine.

Sounds harsh.

But synomously we find base,

A supporting or carrying ingredient

The bottom of something considered as its support

It is from here we may erect initially.

It is at base where we find the tendency of inertia rendered inert.

Holding Fasting 2.000000

Logical proxies placehold, like insignificant digits to the right of a decimal.

Acting on behalf of an other.

The symbol of a variable: replaceable by any element contained by a set.

Subbing for an unknown, thus necessarily generic in form,

denoting a place for something to come.

Anticipating.

Parsifal: PreFace

When we last left off the Great Work of story, Parsifal went it alone on the quest shared by all. Parsifal was unaware, unsure of the quest itself, of that being sought.

The first secret herein reveals the Green Knight and Parsifal are one and the same; or, perhaps these are the two faces comprising our protagonist. Two lives lived in parallel.

You have heard the name ‘Knight Templar’ and assumed it referred to a man,

The second, open secret: Parsifal is a broad. A simple wench, to use the modern subtext. A gal.

A gal questing but for what holy grail? She worried about it not. Journeys become. Destinations are a drag. She spun infinity effortlessly. She worked her method. Her method was the achievement not the means to achievement.

This was her Tao, her manner and way of being:

learned from Elder Brother in secret;

thanks to Knecht;

apologies to his Shadow, still wandering alone;

And no regrets coyote.

[Verticies. Ways of being. (Berger’s Ways of Seeing).

Multiple levels of discourse take time to discern.]

But our Parsigal remains.

Our Parsigal is a tangential elaborator.

(S)he is something new: the contention made (here), at least.

One is left to presume.

Hurumph and hazaa.

Herald this return from the heavens and hells.

Ringing in the peals of bells and pounded from the skins covering drum heads.

Issuing forth in the drone of electric strings plucked and amplified

In stereo.

The return may come before the end of next summer.

It is not good when it is done.

It is done when it is good.

Parsigal struggles here, locked in the struggle box. Feeling like an empty empath.

Some comment: that is okay, she is pretty (enough).

Never. Pretty is never enough. Work. Absurd. Always.

Multiple primary sources note her propensity for laughter and love of comedy.

“No one laughs like….”

“Genuinely funny…”

Multiple romantic partners:

“You are comfortable,” whispered with serious gravity.

Well, the pretense of gravity. They needed something basic. Parsigal was simple but never basic. Basic exists in limited misery. Simple is elegant methodology.

Stars are everywhere.

Most come out during the day.

It is hard to see the stars of the day.

And hard to understand the night stars so easily seen in the dark.

Two stars become a planet with the application of the function of a

Goddess/Godhead. One : another.

So came Ae.

S(he). Cloaked. Parsifal.

Oft confused.

Jade eyes that turn amber and brown when upon looked.

Only the Grail knows this:

Morning and nightly star.

She is a knight hand-made from a handmaid.

She will sow. Sew.

A she-chevalier for he.

True amateur. Feminine anew. With masculinity imbued.

She wears all the colors of Joseph’s coat. The one the Argonauts eventually obtain, no?

Ha, some dummy thought her a witch who turned the men to swine like legion running off some cliff, like clumsy wildabeasts rushing in a herd towards their own demise.

The lesson she meant to impart in these old epics is: never cast your pearls before swine. Never haggle over the price of an irregular pearl, either. Is it more valuable in its uniqueness? A snowflake impeccability of form. Or is it grotesque? Ill in uniform. From an uninformed maker? A non- artisan oyster? What crass and craven questions could one scratch if not these?

Circular questions.

Improperly tangled loops.

Emergent, epiphenomenon of complex systems.

The third law of thermodynamics misinterpreted.

Her name has been spelled too many ways.

She cannot rightly recall her writeful name;

Her dexter handle;

The a droite moniker (not the a gauche one).

All titles have power. And to have is to hold.

All titles can be reduced to words of language.

Not all titles can be expressed with words of language.

Collared without collaring. Maverick whose brand is a lack of brand.

Feral gal child, spirit undomesticated.

No tags.

This is our Parsigal.

This is the story.

Watch “Into the Mystic | Van Morrison | Lyrics ☾☀” on YouTube

Hot griddle cakes and flank shakes.

Just discovered this delight.

Homage. No rights.

Watch “Steven Page: “I can’t vote, so I used a song instead”” on YouTube

Deep discussion.

National importance of any member of any nation.

Especially America, says a regular, nobody American.

We were already great, because we do and did our best. Even when we fail. There is nothing to make great again.

Smile, folks.

Think of your parent and or your kids.

Rallying for the Return

I hope this returns. I wanna see. I wanna see and scribe and speak it.

Like a couple of hyperliterate binary stars (astronomy def) discovering each other, their system, already hand made by them without their awareness.

I whisper things in the middle of night.
Things that used to only be explicit and carnal,
things that grew such that they could barely stand under their own weight.
Irreducible things expressed by the difference between a breath and a moan.
Aspirated.
Pallatted.
In and out.

The Words are the poetry

are the art.

The order does not even matter if you hold the proper reverential in the mind’s I.
The meter is not content.
Content is ecstatic output.
Undirected.
Scribed at the tempo by which it arrives.
And I wonder that we would-be American poets dare call it ‘meter’ at all. Hacks.
Hackneyed.
Need.
The secret that emerged from KBL was and is still regarded as cabal.
There is no secret.
Only Tao.

This is my medium for mystery.

(An open secret)

The letter is to be overwhelmed by the spirit.

This is the Tao of KBL.

This is how we transmutate letters to art.

This is why I can scribe for him.

This is what it is.

Points of reference.

They decide again and again.

It’s Only Circles, Squares, and a Bit of Cork

Coquette Get It

Coquette: n.

1 a flirtatious woman

2 a crested Central & South Am. Hummingbird [Lophornis is one]

Coquetry n. ; coquettish adj. ; coquettishly adv. ; coquettishness n.

ORIGIN 17th century: from French (of course, right?) feminine of coquet ‘ wanton’, which is the diminutive                     of coq (in other words ‘cock’)

Flirtatious ORIGIN C16: originally used in the sense ‘give someone a sharp blow’; the earliest noun senses were ‘joke, gibe’ and ‘flighty girl’

Apparently symbolic in etymology, composed of the elements fl- and –irt (both suggesting sudden                                movement. Cross reference FLICK

Flick: make/cause to make a sudden quick movement ; propel with a quick movement of the fingers

Flick through ; a flick through ; the flicks ; give someone the flick (casually reject) ; flicky

ORIGIN: MIDDLE ENGLISH: symbolic (like flirt) of fl- frequently begins words denoting sudden movement

Wanton: immodest ; luxuriant ; promiscuous

ORIGIN MIDDLE ENGLISH wantowen ‘rebellious, lacking discipline’, from wan- ‘badly’ + Old English togen ‘trained’

What Writes Who?

Writing that is read will necessarily be personalized by the reader. It seems arguable that writers could also personalize what they write as coming from from them, when it might be coming through them. A radio does not create the music it amplifies. The radio is not the origin of the music it amplifies. The radio converts sound waves in the air into vibrations our ears perceive as music thanks to our ear drums.

Both writer and reader engage writing and written language through the process of meaning-making in the same way an individual exploits patterns s/he perceives to make sense of the external world. While we can speak of the transmission of info via written language as a technical and biological process (occuring systematically in brains), this is not the same as saying the reader or writer will have any awareness of their own mechanations of thought.

I am told electricity traces routes in my brain, firing bells and whistles that lead me to feel and think. When I have a thought or a thought occurs to me, I am not conscious of the biological nor the physical mechanics enabling or spawning that thought. My consciousness of the text I create enters once I’ve personalized it – made it relevant to myself? Just like a computer is not aware of it own processes and algorithms, so we could be too with our words?

Each and Other

Swiftly consumed and scribed words.

Keenly crafted prose and sounds.

Hauled ore, smelted, forged, smithed.

Well-honed against whetstone.

Blade piercing rough shell,

Proving the whetstone also a geode.

Shone and shining.

Like lunar light.

Moonlight striking red, purple, violet, and pink facets.

Sunlight bouncing from the metal edge.

The mirrored a reflected.

Shone off from one to other

Each shining back.

The Resonator (howling along to Steppenwolf)

AE am to myself as Harry Haller was to the wolf of the Steppes.

Ae am Casey; but I æ am also cagey.

What do you want to have come here, now?

Yes, Hermine that you long ago slew-

back when we all lived in the forest-

resurrected.

Oh, you sweet fool.

I’ve not been mad at you since.

On the contrary, I am more aroused than ever, as you like to say.

But, just as lovesome as before, though, sugarfoot.

I worry you’ll kill me all over again.

Ha!

You forgot to laugh, mouse.

That is it.

It is all of which you are guilty.

We were in a Mad Theater, darlin’.

Do you effing get it yet?

You were Pablo.

No, they will never get it. Us.

I forgot it was funny too.

We are lovers’ lovers

and not everyone can be The BeeGees.

I contend that we are new, wholly original.

Authentic; Integral.

What it is.

It is what it is.

That’s what it is.

Says JB.

So are we.

Do you see it? Why I dressed like you?

Fireworks this time, dear.

Not World War III.

The second one went on endlessly.

It hurt.

Bad.

Man has always loved the endless variantions in surfaces.

Woman is pure essence,

though she’s forgotten (and I marvel at it).

I marvel that man sees but only one surface-

one form-

when He looks upon Her;

for in truth, as T. Mann said,

there are multitudes.

Effing sweet idiots.

Sh/We have made ourselves more than pretty enough,

given our beauty.

Yes.

AE am callæbus equus;

but no,

I will not be ridden mercilessly anymore.

Are you then kind?

And, can you prove mettle?

I hone and forge and

carry wood

and could continue to do so endlessly.

This manual labor is effortlessly easy.

Keep on going; there it is.

You hear them, right?

You know you are not them, yes?

That’s the way we get by.

Darling, “that’s how the beads around our face make sure to fit back in place.”

It was you who first told me all this, silly.

So just keep singing, writing, reading, snipping, playing.

Do you and find yourself anew.

Meanwhile,

I’ll keep trying to prove that Alice Ladder said,

“Curiouser and capriciously.”

Not

“Curious and curiouser.”

(says I, KC, for the umpt.eenth time;

so forgetful am AE!)

Life is just a dream of a game, moth.

So merrily!

We can always go to sleep again.

We can sleep and dream like no others.

That’s why we return.

That’s why æ can smell You from miles away.

Run. It’s fine.

or

Fall asleep with me.

or

Stay awake with me.

Do you.

I keep my love with you anyway.

It’s Soul Power by James Brown.

Lovely repetition that mesmorizes,

that ends up sounding more complex than the sum of its parts.

Because it is.

It’s David Bowie’s

(or was he Ziggy then?)

Moonage Daydream.

“I’ll be a rock n’ rollin’ bitch for you,”

you sweet, silly pink monkeybird.

When I removed the bobby pins and

let my hair down;

I told you:

I washed it. It smells like a garden. I did this to please you, because it pleased me.

Then you said:

Oh shit, give me what I want. But, my dear, don’t give it to me yet, please.

I errupt:

laughter ; tears ; pert pebbles ; puffing ; full deluge

Wolf grin.

Effing, eh, sugarfoot!

It’s been forever since you last said that.

In fact, it’s the oldest memory AE have.

You were in a garden with some kind but dull friend.

You opened a book.

It wasn’t a special book,

except that it was the only book you had around to pick up.

No, you didn’t have a pen.

You opened and read something and I couldn’t hear you.

So I said:

Tolle lege.

That is the first time we ended the world.

Well-that I can still remember, I suppose.

It is still

Still Life with Woodpecker.

“How different really are atheists and believers?” (Costica Bradatan)

https://wp.me/p1gja9-3Sf

Thank you Costica Bradatan and John Gray.

Interesting piece very relevant to the cultural elephant in the room (at least in America). This elephant also relates to the popular perception that a scientific and a religous belief perspective are mutually exclusive.

Lots to unpack but highlights include:

“[Grey] uses paradox not just for rhetorical effect but to a philosophical end.”

<thank you. rhetoric abounds already.>

Voltaire and Nietzeche, as perceived atheists, are rexamined.

“no such thing as secularism”

The idea that religion is born from a fundamental need to make meaning.

The author suggests religion is irreplacable in our meaning making process.

I propose extending this more broadly: culture is irreplacable and religion is a social structure of culture. This is consistent with the authors’ arguements.

While categorization is reductionist at times, the breakdown of ‘types’ of atheists is appropriate and beneficial to the big picture “layman” discussion.

“Atheist” and “scientist” have become confused as synonomous. “Atheist” is largely a stigma in many local American communities. If you believe this is irrelevant to the endeavor of science, please consider public school textbooks and science. Evolution is less frequently taught (in the South, at least), then cited as theory and then discredited.

Why? Because text book order demand stems from state boards of education.

Please check The Revisionaries, a documentary demonstratig this process.

https://www.politicalresearch.org/2013/02/13/the-revisionaries-documentary-goes-inside-texas-textbook-controversy/

HARTZ. American Exceptionalism (pt3).

Because American industrial development generally resembled Europe’s, Hartz cast his exceptionalism thesis in strongly political and cultural terms.

What has differentiated politics in the U.S. are limits that have been imposed on economically induced political change by the agreement on liberal beliefs and practices.

Standard Critiques of Liberal Consensus Theory

The most common critique argues that the thesis seriously understated the extent and variability of class conflict and governmental interventions in the economy,

Hartz and Tocqueville did, after all, take for granted that widespread economic wealth was involved in sustaining the liberal character of American political thought.

Social pluralism and seperation of residence and workplace can be attributed at least in part to the openess and fluidity of a liberal society.

Implicit Metatheory of the Consensus Thesis

The consensus thesis is mainly concerned with the years near after the original settlement of America and there are three reasons why the thesis cannot be a causal explanation over the more extensive period.

1. The decisive causal factors took place in Europe and the thesis has little to say about these events or the causes that brought them about.

2. The thesis emphasizes continuity; it does not seek to explain political development nor is it concerned with the way one set of changes produced another set of changes.

3. Causal explanations must clearly distinguish between dependent and independent variables. The thesis attributes America’s persisting liberal culture to the liberal beliefs and practices of the original settlers. Beliefs and practices make up a culture, and the original liberalism of a culture cannot be a cause of its liberalism later on.

Watch “The Rolling Stones – She’s A Rainbow (Official Lyric Video)” on YouTube

homage

no rights

lovely simplish piano forward

a bit of strings (that start sawing <bluegrass term> a bit at the end),

kiddish a bit (and then some)

have you seen her dressed in blue?

have you seen her all in gold?

–like a sunset goin’ down

Watch “John Irving on why The World According to Garp is more relevant now than he ever imagined” on YouTube