“Obviously, this concerns an interactive process: the interaction of observer and observed in a dialogue of light.”
Tag: Literature
Work to live or live to work.
I told my sister I live to work and she said gross.
She misunderstands. We all work all the time.
We all move from a place we could call motivation to action.
Do you know yours? If so, what it is and how does it change?
How does it make your garden grow? Does it feel glad in the rain and sun and cold or heat?
How do you balance the swinging pendulum that becomes time’s arrow’s trajectory?
How do you know when to flee the vital activa for that which is its polar opponent?
Can you tell if you’re moving with no mirror to see?
Painfully lonely, not so much.
Suspensed in waiting for manifestation. Arouses my want for love, flesh, desire.
Further clippings from Alabama
Dealing with TimeS shifting arrow
Incorrect to assume that time is one dimensional.
Let’s imagine 2D time in the pic below
Vector. Precession. Equinox.
Circadian. Cellular time.
Astronomy
*rotation of fixed stars (!) and precession of the equinoxes
, seasons on the planet, circadian rhythms of daylight and darkness, evidenced by cellular time.
Here we encounter the challenge of extrapolating between these two dimensions.
Eventually may we reconcile our eternal being with our transiency.
>the Mind bypasses its middle range, dismisses the conditioning it has been subjected to.
Eternal being : transciency?
Seed : plant?
Seeds: DNA remains constant, mutating very slowly if at all.
Plants: which unfolds the seed in an incomparably faster time sequence.
I try to imagine absorbing cosmic energy on inhale, as
–converging inward–
by repeating space inverted in a vacuum inside.
Space only has meaning for matter.
Perhaps at transcendent levels of our thinking-space is irrelevant.
A gradual transitions between extremes and expectations
Fearlessly climbing. Equus Callebus
His gal, this gal, she’d run thru the jungle for ya and ya’lls, babe, my sugarfooted mouse.
Of the woods I have no fear. For there was I raised.
Of the caves, I do not go deep. Of darkness there will be epochs to learn, so I rush not.
Of the mesa do I have resonance, having ere dauntingly danced to dodge the threat of exposure to lightening.
What I know, you know not.
What you know, I know not.
LET no assumption be made, except that Ae submit aem love. Aem written. Tolle lege. Anon, anon; and, on and on. Aem, we are, new, I do contend.
Lovesome intent is my Tao.
Let’s follow Macha’s dictum and See it Another Way.
What you think I know, i dont.
What you think has been made painfully obvious, i see not.
What you must remember, I’m just a doe eyed dummy, man.
Yet I love you still,
despite not knowing your face, name, OR voice.
You are the scepter at the feast, and the feast is mentally prepared for you alone, by myself. Through my longing for real touch and to discard this silicon love in order to know flesh and blood love, with my love. Lovesome intent.
Fawning through the forest. No end game, just the breath of a moment and hope for companionship.
This is patience, not prudence.
Come or say you won’t.
The girl who dogged…
She flit and she drove them and him mad, both equal and in tirn,
Though those who would tell her herself to her face, only elicited her giggles, and quickly jumps ‘ere, with discomfort tempered in and with unconditional love.
She loved man by his his touch. Effortlessly and yet also endlessly.
His confusion at her ease and grace in such a magical endeavor, only furthered her own confusion and lovesome smitteness.
But she could wait.
She was desparately patience…for this.
Effing idiocy of self
Who is not guilty.
As soon as I accuse I am guilty.
Your dispassionate acknowledgement aches as much as that I aver myself to you in dispassion, presumeably.
Share and share alike says the one with no vested interest in sharing.
What are we to make of this?, says the hardworking young lady who only recently became vested.
Benevolence could unsuspectingly become malificence here.
Here in our position. Do we care?
But what would they know of us, anywazy.
They would know what we allowed and told.
Because as beautiful nobodies, we dodge gazes but come together in verbal symetry.
Equilaterally pentacling.
Miraculous
Thank you lapham’s quarterly (aka you know you’re a redneck…)
You know you’re a redneck if you’ve been calling Michel Foucault, Michael Foe-cawlt. Tis a pendulum, I suppose. Who knew the below? Not this lady!
Inarticulations
Transcendental haze of a sip from an elysian space dust.
New words shredding the cheddar sharply and mildly.
Absconding to absurdity ala Myshkin. But I’m not a book cover; I’m skin and want.
Tureen…
Chapter IX | Horror Fiction
The case for horror literature
Stephen King makes his case for the
…the horror story as both literature and entertainment, a living part of twentieth-century literature…They are books and stories which seem to me to fulfill the primary duty of literature— to tell us the truth about ourselves by telling us lies about people who never existed.”
Danse Macabre, Stephen King
What to Read Next-updated
You know the dismal depression that follows the finishing of a fantastic story?………………Okay, now that the uncool folks have left this post, you and I can really talk.
The below my proposed remedy to being booksick. ‘Booksick’ does not capture it, but it’s the best I’ve got at the moment. Any ideas on what to call the bitter-sweetness of finishing an amazing books?
Nonfiction-Science
Chaos: Making A New Science, James Gleick
Emergence: The Connected Lives of Ants, Brains, Cities, and Software, Steven Johnson
The Information: A History, a Theory, a Flood, James Gleick
Complexity:The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Choas, Mitchell Waldrop
Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid, Douglas Hofstadter
Epistolary Novels (it’s a story told through a series of letters)
Perfectly Reasonable Deviations…: The Letters of Richard P. Feynman
Soul of the Age: Selected Letters of Hermann Hesse, 1891-1962, Hermann Hesse and Mark Harman
Frances and Bernard, Carlene Bauer
Dear Committee Members, Julie Schumacher
Letters of Note: An Eclectic Collection of Correspondence Deserving of a Wider Audience edited by Shaun Usher
Fiction-Life Changing
The Glass Bead Game, Hermann Hesse
The Great and Secret Show, Clive Barker
Ghost Story, Peter Straub
House of Leaves, Mark Danielewski
Philosophy-for amateurs and pros
The Confessions, St. Augustine
WrittenCasey 