Art and the encoding of the universe; technique as underpinning.


 "There is another reality, the genuine one, which we lose sight of. This other reality is always sending us hints, which without art, we can’t receive."   -Bob Dylan


The art of music dodges along on the fringes of an established range of notes, sometimes playing faster and looser with the rules than others.  In art, we see the dimensional depth of the universe, life, in the breadth of concepts and ideas presented in not only music, but quality films and pictures.

Many artists like Van Gogh, Da Vinci, or even Marianne Werefkin, might try to find one unique aspect to amplify or quest towards, and in that, we see truth, the universe itself, through the filter of someone else's technique, a skill-derived sub-universe, a picture of the reality.

Saying of Il Haboul

Adelaide Crapsey
 
"My tent
A vapour that
The wind dispels and but
As dust before the wind am I
Myself."
 

In the Desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

Marcus Aurelius and his attitude toward various kerfluffles. From the Meditations Book Nine.

 "Today I have got out of all trouble, or rather I have cast off all trouble, for it was not outside, but within and in my opinions."

*He is bound to accept the universe or suffer through a contrarian opinion within himself.  He believed in a guiding principle to the universe, and could to some extent trust that.

"All things are the same, familiar in experience, and ephemeral in time, and worthless in the matter.  Everything now is just as it was in the time of those whom we have buried."

"The stone which has been thrown up it is no evil to come down, nor indeed any good to have been carried up.

Penetrate towards into men's leading principles, and thou wilt see what judges thou art afraid of, and what kind of judges they are of themselves.

All things are changing: and thou thyself art in continuous mutation and in a manner in continuous destruction, and the whole universe, too."

*We need not, according to the good emperor, know not fear or anger at bad acts or judgements, but put them perspective and attempt to focus our attention within, focus our jealousies and guiles, not on things without, but things within.

"Not in passivity but in activity lie the evil and the good of the rational social animal, just as his virtue and his vice lie not in passivity, but in activity.

It is thy duty to leave another man's wrongful act there where it is."

*We see so often and are told of "sins of omission" or "sins of inaction" in which so much of the world's evil comes forward and must be stopped, but here Aurelius threads the needle, notwithstanding his own military campaigns and incursions.

Journaling: Fumble Vector: Plus Student Loan Forgiveness.

Awoke early.  Crime doesn't rest, neither does the hunter and the huntress, so to the fray.  They are unawares and its easy going most of the morning.....


 

Up early plotting the Internet Missionary outreach program, which isn't my job, but essentially an uncompensated hobby.  I come up with some good stuff, make a plan, plus make an additional set of agenda items "just in case".  You see, just as we talk about mindfulness, gratitude is like a superpower of the believer, a calming balm even in the roughest waters.  They're in the know, and all it is, we remember the promises of God, our assurance.

So much depends on a green truck and a couple of yard cats, as is said, and I watched the two toms, one crossed the yard to harass the other.  He crossed and stopped right in front of the other, mewling, as I say, "like a couple of old hens gossiping about old men".

And just as is said, "there are other worlds than these", so to did I work some other stuff online, good stuff, actually, that I had completely forgotten about on other websites.  I kept the true north of this website and the Internet Missionary project, but other things seem to come and go.

I was looking at the Student Loan Forgiveness commentary on television, which I can't stomach for very long in one sitting, and I was thinking its all class warfare, and they're gleefully feeding that beast.  And when the on-air host takes a stand, that shuts out half the audience.  It was just like my mentor taking up political talking points from the pulpit.  I cautioned him that he was not uniting the church to a cause, but dividing us.  I note he had much more experience with Theology and leading congregations than I, and what resulted was a congregation that was small but energized at his words, not unlike what Trump was doing with his rallies.




Farouq Moneyshaw.

Farouq Moneyshaw had a problem.  See, he had a thing in a box, he thought hidden, but everyone knew about it.  Over the years, he had dropped stupid hints about it, until at last, he was released from his sandwich chicken prep job, "released from contractual obligations", and his moneycheck was in the sands of time.

Just deboning chicken, you know, but somebody at his workstation had did something unsavory and scrawled "GO HOME YE RICH FUKKER", and there he was, having a moment of clarity, smelling the ammonia and chicken blood, a drumstick in his hand and a stupid look on his face.

They called her "Garrison" Blair, because she would supposedly do a whole platoon if left her own devices, insatiable, that one.

Would she want the box and its precious contents?

She massaged his groin and he backed away, as she was saying, "I want that fat monies-check."  She put her cheek against his foot.

Her face cheek.  Jowl.

And whammo, he had back-stepped into the street and a bus got him.

That was gonna be a Final Destination movie, but the action was so slow.  "What's in the box?  What's in the box?"  Lol.

National Peach Pie Day, National Waffle Day, and a Tarot Pull.

 



Not to be confused with International Waffle Day which is in March, I guess that's the difference, babies, and Peach Pie day, giving the harvest sufficient time to up the supply of peaches, and then the day.  Harvest here was months ago, at the large Mcleod Farms in McBee South Carolina.  However, with recent mild weather, there may be a "bumper crop" of good size.

Another prognostication, three cards colliding, and this pensive fu**er saying "no marriage is possible", and the Lovers and satisfaction card together.  I actually do have several lady friends with mostly platonic relationships and these are of course, satisfying relationships.  

Putting together the three cards, "Im see a lover that I can't really be with, and I'm satisfied."

OOOOO Baby.

All too fitting for Peach Pie and Waffle day.  But I submit to you to take the Peach Pie filling and pour it over a waffle.


Screenplay: The Goddens Prologue: "The Nun Priest's Tale".

 

CURTAIN ON EMPTY DARKENED STAGE.


AUDIO(OFF SCREEN),


DISPATCHER: “Suspect peeing on statue of General Edie. Request units intervene forthwith. Forty-seven, respond.”


“Forty-seven? Are you Ten One Hundred?”


“Forty-seven?”


“Forty-seven!”


A MALE VOICE ON RADIO(in ecstacy): “Yes.”


Dispatcher: “Yes?”


MALE VOICE: “Oh yes.”


Dispatcher: “Forty-seven.”


MALE VOICE: “Yes.”


Dispatcher: “Forty-seven, respond!”


MALE VOICE: “Uhm, right, Dispatch. Responding forthwith.”

Sound of car cranking and then speeding off into the distance.


Lights come up and a twenty-something blonde comes on stage, shyly smiling.


FIN

Photojournal: When Fungi Last in the Dooryard Gloom.

 

This camera is a bit hit or miss for me, but I like it well enough.  No real chance to get a really really artistic shot.  Its not up to the strength of my old Canon A540 but its getting its job done.

But is it the camera, or the eye?  In other words, should I "learn on it"?

We've had several overcast days here, and a few more partly-cloudy days, and a few heavy rains, and here come the mushrooms.

Part of the key. It's a Fujifilm camera and I had to buy a new battery, incidentally, a battery that is sized-up for the higher-consumption models that rank more prominently in the product catalog.  Had the same feature in a Nokia phone, a battery designed for a more power-intensive model, and I could go weeks without charging that phone.

We can see two qualities of light in these photos, partial-shade and full sun, and the camera does well seemingly on either, save that the white saturates in full sun and obscures details, but such is the way of the eye, too.




Journalized August 22. On the September 6 hearings.

As per Nicole, and we know Nicole is insatiable when it comes to roughing the GOP, Mike Pence might testify at the 1/6 hearings, balanced against concerns of a future presidential bid.  A certain flaccid interest in telling what they have already heard, but a potential showpiece of the showtrial, and still yet, a gaggle of monkeys might fly out of my motherfu**ing a**.

She was telling me this, and I was like, "honey, you still got a few pieces of chicken in the bucket."  You know, as per the old Greeks, nature abhors a vacuum, the old pie hole rapidly inhaling and exhaling air and so forth.

"She would need all her strength reserves replenished for what I had planned for her."

Telling John Thomas all the while, between things, "this is an assault on democracy."  And I was like, "is your shirt still on?"  I was having some kind of mid-coitus cholesterol induced delusion, and then the train and the tunnel and all, and me wearing a 2018 away batting practice hat with the moisture-wicking, I could but come to my senses and pronounce the thing good.

Sure was a lot of Colonel Sanders in that space around her belly button.

I began to think, based on the movie Prince of Darkness, that our dreams are actually something of either a transmission or a dimly energetic glimpse into alternate realities.  Like the recurring one where I come in and Nicole is playing with the dog on the couch, him all fours in the air, and she scratching his belly, him making weird noises that sound like things the human stomach would do.


So.  I did a four-color mouse-drawn rendering in GIMP.  This is a fairly direct interpretation to which more colors and improved highlights could be added.  The one little purple 3 dollar discount store fake Hydrangea is giving some real impetus in my artistic output.

And people, one side, had went cock-up about Dr Tauci at the CNDC.

Look what you made me do to myself.

Yeah, I had took up that "Graphic Design For Non-Designers", where they figured web masters and content creators would flood in for some free tips.

Me and Nicole might watch "Searching For Richard" with Al Pacino and them boys, or I might get a Cease and Desist letter for yelling at her earlier.

Otherwise, it just seems like she's after the jam in the jellyroll, a total whore, but only accessible by that one degenerate un-deserving man she chose out of all the world.

Gather ye willows and reeds, yon Bradley Pittsburgh.

 

Could it be the universe has a message for me?

*Centerstage.  The personality multiplied.

*Ambition.  He does commerce.

The universe gives me The Star and the 10 of Wands, and I see that the universe is basically telling me I'm a star with a lot to offer.  But aren't we all?  Aren't we all now pundits and somewhat expert, in the conversation, in the age of social media?

I'm playing an art piece, more contrived and intricate than my usual stuff, an illusion piece inspired by Ron Gonsalve, to be executed in marker by my at a later point(I have no markers; I have to buy some).

I released a NASCAR podcast last week and it didn't quite make a splash, but I didn't really promote it, and frankly, its just a hobby.

I'll tell you this.  

God speaks through the universe.  When I say, "the universe has a message for me", that means God and his created universe is telling me something, he makes the heavens sing, maybe, saying something that sounds like one message for me, and myriad other messages for all the souls that look skyward.  Somewhere in between the messages might merge and form something all can use, and certainly, the machinations of men will merge and mesh and fleck and flay off of one another.

Like the Python Database Library, "Beautiful Soup", it is to ask the universe to tell you something, for the universe is poetic.


 

The Modern Prometheus. A King James quoting.

Pastor was on a riff about the people being of one accord, thinking they would upstage God, Himself.  It was a collective Original Sin repeat, man trying to be God, trying to supplant God, further, trying to know and do God-like things.

It was Genesis 11, in the King James Only Baptist church.  "Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do."

See also.

Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.  Man attempting to create man.

Sir Isaac Newton fancied himself a Theologist rather than a scientist.

Albert Einstein's equations were within a few years of publication solved and refuted by a Catholic clergy member.

"Go to, let us go down, and there, confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech."

Nature looked back at man, ready to perhaps spit or bite out at him, as he presumed and tried to ascend.  Such was the way, too, with the HG Wells speculation about the dark side of the moon.

Such too was the way with Pink Floyd's speculation about the Dark Side of the Moon.

But just as man was tasked to name the animals, so to does he learn and study to become a better husbandman, though these days, there are people doing something called "pure research".

Or as one KJV writer says, "curse anything that separates me from the love of God".


Ron Gonsalve Illusions in Illustration.

 

Brilliant Illusions of deceased artist Ron Gonsalve.



Tarot reading Nine of Wands. "Sentry"

 

"[Moses was] choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season..."  -Hebrews 11:25 King James Version

Poem: The Sky Lizard. A tale of Diligence and Gratitude.

The winged serpent
alit from the sky
down from the sky
to dusky firmament
perched and snorted
and deposited its eggs
beneath a hill.

The near villagers polished the eggs
fearful, as the Good Book says.
From the edge of the heavens' tabletop
the Sky Lizard watched,
and picked at its massive sharp teeth.
Diligence done
is gratitude won,
after all.

Post Supermoon Journal.

Dignity and solemnity, hath a life, dignity and solemnity, myself of the sub-sunrise false-dawn quietude running a string trimmer, pondering doing a comedy routine, sacrificing my mind to varying threads, threads of varying length and substance.

Thanks in part to caffeine and deranged thinking, I yield up to strange dreams for a few days, and digestive kerfluffle thanks to eating a candy bar, which does me no good, though I love it so.  In the same way one might have a binge of something, a great glut, I had Cruellers, a cookie dough and strawberry dessert and some other, to wit, the candy bar.  It took unto me a bit of malaise to have weeks in treats in only a few days time.

I was due in no part to meditate on malaise, not a malaise on my own making, but a hard instant resolve to never have that again, aversion and avoidance then, in the face of moderation.

Strange dreams opposite the Aug 13 Supermoon, on the 14th, early morning, and though I could peg caffeine as the instrument, there's something yet to be observed of the influence of the lunar body on the world proper, and I had yet predicted a sleepless night, also restless women too, though all was precipitated by my own hand.

Les hommes sont ainsi faits, ils résistent à une discussion sérieuse et tombent sous un regard. -Honore Balzac

En Englais: Men are like that, they can resist sound argument, yet yield to a glance.


 

a room with a view of venus

"They" postulate that a winged serpent came from the sky, with great jackflap wings, and laid its eggs beneath a hillside.  It was thought the rulers and priesthood were aided by extraterrestrials, but yet others postulate a seeding of genes that would suggest those classes of people were aliens themselves.  Such an "out of this world" notion may be unthinkable to many, but yet may explain innate knowledge, gene coding errors,  ceremonial carvings that look like astronaut garb, and the masses of human sacrifices on elevations.  Indeed, it was thought human sacrifice was an attempt to get the attention of stellar "gods" above.  Older ideas proclaim that the sacrificed were a kind of gift or offatory ceremony dedicated to the gods, but might those have been an attempt to precipitate enough calamity to draw stellar beings?

"I still write your name in the sand." About Nicole, Nero and some comic books.

I was reading Two-Fisted Tales, sitting there, and having a beverage betwixt the forays and all and such and so forth.  And I said to myself, "shit."

I literally said, "shit."

It had all just reminded me of the time Nicole went to One Police Plaza to check up on a report, but not for her journalism, for her own interest back at the farm, where she had been accosted by Comancheros one day while she was out in her frock collecting the day's eggie-wegs.

And they had sent Percy Ledbetter from State B.I., with the "freshly-trimmed" hair line, where it was suspected he got in front of a mirror before his shift and nicked and trimmed on it.

But Nicole's outraged, violenced maidenhead.

And at One p.p. they gave her, in the vernacular, "dickfist", as if to say, I wanted something to shoot at, but like Michael Corleone, there was a probably he wouldn't have the pistola coming out the bathroom, but instead his penis in his hand.

A penis in the hand.

Hence the charming colloquialism, "dickfist".

Arthel shows me hers when it's "freshly trimmed".

But anyway, old farm girl, straight out of the Mid West, and some Willa Cather tale of people poking at burning coals in the stove before sending their child off to the city for a real education.

But in Two-Fisted Tales, there was Thor and Man-Thing, and the Igor analog looked remarkably like George Conway.  But think of it, one great big circle jerk, and not enough tequila to make it a proper daisy-chain, lacking the spirit, yer know, yarblockos.

It's like, "she likes Trumpet Pitchers.  That's her flower."

And the response.  "Fuck that, Imma burn down the city."

Nero had done that.  Sexed various members of his family, them coerced with fear, and he made his horse the Proconsul.  He had fiddled in his garden terrace while looking over his walls watching the distant flames of the capitol burning.

Maybe when I suggested Nicole "eat shit and die", maybe, just maybe, part of me meant that she should DM me on twitter.

I'm good for a feel.

I know Nicole's good for feel.

And State Law in SC is different from the busy and energetic world-renowned NYPD.  State Law Enforcement here is like Mike Tyson.  The don't stop punching until the bell rings to end the match.

I say Nicole has been to Aspen, cause she shore Skier-t.

Think of it, when young boys encounter beautiful women, many go mute, but there are a select few that rebuke beauty in its purest forms, say mean things against the feelings they feel. 

Wanna clean-up and do something, Nicole?  I'm game.

:)

a screenplay beginning. The Goddens Family Arms.

 

CURTAIN ON EMPTY DARKENED STAGE.


AUDIO(OFF SCREEN),


DISPATCHER: “Suspect peeing on statue of General Edie. Request units intervene forthwith. Forty-seven, respond.”


“Forty-seven? Are you Ten One Hundred?”


“Forty-seven?”


“Forty-seven!”


A MALE VOICE ON RADIO(in ecstacy): “Yes.”


Dispatcher: “Yes?”


MALE VOICE: “Oh yes.”


Dispatcher: “Forty-seven.”


MALE VOICE: “Yes.”


Dispatcher: “Forty-seven, respond!”


MALE VOICE: “Uhm, right, Dispatch. Responding forthwith.”


Lights come up and a twenty-something blonde comes on stage, shyly smiling.



Faith is a supernatural force.

I hinted early at something of the supernatural, something like a little piece of God that might reside with each of us, an inheritance, but not a superior part, but a shadow of the Father, a shading of the Master.

Lucifer was said to be important at one time among God's ethereal underlings, until he sought to challenge God and take over dominance of all.

Of course, he was defeated, but is said to monkey with us still today.

But of our supernatural power, we are "the righteousness of God", as faith finds favor for the believer, and of course, we love Him, because He first loved us.  Paul says of the early church not only that there were roles in the church, but that there were different spiritual gifts distributed among the believers, like healing or the interpretation of tongues.

In today's vernacular, some are called or anointed to preach or pastor, but what of the other gifts?  Have these been lost?

I note also, that to heal and cast out demons, Christ himself said it took a lot of prayer and fasting.  Observe that he stepped away alone as if to both pray and fast after feeding the multitude, which was a bona fide miracle.

And of Peter and the earlier note that he may have for a second or two actual stood on water, and then, only then, began to sink beneath the waves.....  Remember that his faith burned hot at times, but of course, he was the one who denied Christ three times for fear of his own punishment at the hands of the Sanhedrin.  Despite all that, it was the peaks of his faith that seemed to resonate, such as the move of the spirit on the Day of Pentecost, or the dialogue where Christ vows to build his church with Peter as the cornerstone.

The point was, though that faith flagged at times, when it was hot, it was full.  Think of the mighty wind on the Day of Pentecost.  That spectacular move of the spirit of which Peter was a component and leader.  He was not the only of the Apostles there, but he was the leader.

And it was Christ himself who compared a grain of faith to a mustard seed, but he said just a little could accomplish so much.  Nevermind the harvest motif set up so often in financial terms.  For spiritual work, spiritual reward, maybe, and for the work of men, payment in their terms.

But so much we look to early deaths, or disease, even suicides as the work of a God that we in other moments call loving and just.  But there are men at work, and there is Lucifer/Satan at work to thwart salvations.  Satan would be the ultimate questioner, denier, and at his core, a top-ranked contrarian.

There was a man that had gone through a bad time, a time of mental illness, and he studied, and was ordained as a minister.  There were tales of him during recovery quoting long passages of scripture word for word.  He held to that and gave something of his life to the lord, and later he would be called in his early middle age home to the Lord.  

Some might say, "that's God's plan", but what of the enemy?  What of the enemy taking an evangelist out of the world?  With but a breath this way or that on a steering wheel, something so easy to accomplish such a major result, and cause the Christians a loss.  It's like Job who Satan set a personal mission to cause to renounce God.  In that plan, he killed Job's children and ruined most of his possessions.  He had, poor Job, in the end, only his wife, who begged him to renounce his God, after all the heartache and loss.

But he did not, because his faith in God was beyond worldly circumstance.  We don't drop an ice cream cone on the pavement by accident, and let that cause us to curse God.  It so much more important, with such larger consequences.  Believers keep the faith, not because their parents taught it to them, but its confirmed in each of them through the physical world, scripture, and homily.

It's like being given a car, if you can imagine a blind man or a young child being given a big shiny automobile.  One learns, one progresses, and faith grows and builds and takes new forms, like muscle tissue or patterns in the brain's networking of neurons.

Yhwh and the god of marcus aurelius

The chief of the various gods of Marcus Aurelius bears a peculiar similarity to YHWH the God of Israel in the sense that He is the guiding principle of the universe, and both He and the universe is deemed "good" or providential by the believers.

Its is purely a function of faith, as the faithless or weaker in faith proclaim an indifferent universe.  Such as the modern man of science, but that wasnt always so.
 
As the old emperor tells himself in his journal, essentially, either the universe is ruled by a just god, or it is all set in random, but he had faith in the chief of his cadre of gods, which was a sort of father figure analog to the Hebrew YHWH, whom is basically the bearer of that name today, "GOD", as of from the German translations of the Bible, "GOTT".
 
Isaac Newton styled himself primarily as a theologian, and the man who "fixed" Einstein's relativity equations, proving the universe's expansion, was an ordained minister and leader in the Catholic church.
 
In the book of Genesis, God at multiple times deems various elements of creation, such as light or the earth, as "good".
 
We can so easily explain away other less than good elements as machinations either of man or the old enemy, Lucifer.
 
Of the Hebrew mythos in Genesis, man is fashioned of the dust of the earth, and his name, Adam, means "blood".  God literally breathes consciousness into man, what was the original un-perverted consciousness before Lucifer intervened.
In popular mythos among evangelicals, knowledge itself is taken with a healthy dose of skepticism because man's original sin was to try for Godlike knowledge, spurned forward by Lucifer, who had been condemned prior for seeking Godlike power.  Indeed, something of the God knowledge being held by man couldve very well advanced the cause of Satan, notwithstanding history's many dark passages in the annals of Christianity.  Mark also the regime-toppling and various genocides conducted in the name of Islam.
 
Anyway.  The essential goodness of nature, which can seem indifferent or even set against one at times, is a function of faith, and an acknowledgement of the larger society of man.  All is set to plan, balanced lives to lives in one essential stewpot.  Though we acknowledge in a perfect world, there would only be death from old age and not other causes, but all things are balanced and counterbalanced against various factors, many of those factors still unknown to man's science.  Indeed, even in nature, survival depends on some action of man, and without the benefit of prior observations, none would last very long in the wild.
 
All a function of faith, the goodness of a seemingly indifferent world, just as the rules of the physical world are applied equally, without discrimination.  Various seeming accidents, incidents of a what could seem a random universe coalesce towards a return to order in the believed return of the savior and the exercising of judgement.
 
*in one of the New Testament Gospels, it is recorded that Peter tried to emulate Christ's supernatural act of walking on water.  In that one account, it is said not that Peter fell into the water, but that he "began to sink" as if maybe he had some iota of success for a millisecond standing on water.
That too a function of belief on this side of midnight, as so much is unknown or described as supernatural, beyond our known rules of nature......

Poem: The Tower Holds Sway Over All, not the Red King as was told.

Did you know from whence

I came, on what ashen dromedary,

and it what discordant spray?

They say, "who made thee?!,

who made thee?!"

Perhaps some things come to pass

all of their own volition,

too strange to exist in the imagination,

too bright for the real world.

The Inner Guard at pains for their supper,

and slipping to the Daily Mirror;

the a large three ring binder for the comms,

and memorizing capitals.

The good outside force recovered three maidens

from the somewhere, somewhere between here and there,

thought to be spoil from the outer rim.

Concubines and fodder,

going through their bags,

tin foil, glitter, bubble gum.

Trexler, cavorting.

Trexler, as unknowing as ever.

Spray of curl.

He took a woman, a kind of whore,

one of the street, and to the hospital with him

after he tried Heroin with her,

a hot dose,

but along the way, 

in a thoroughfare dusky and bare,

he found a another of that species "woman",

and moved to Scotland.

Demille was always good for fun.

He had set up wildlife cameras 

in roadside rest stops.

And among that,

he pleased them all,

pennies on the dollar,

and all that and such,

and the Feds got ahold of him,

and he told about his hook,

his financial guy that took his videos.

And on the way to the Tower,

there was a lovely red rose,

a singular rose among a field

of dandelions,

and at its core, that rose, not a bud

but worlds spinning along that singular spine.

One would think;

lies would set one up to fail,

but what a world they collect

along the way,

and the lies from the thoroughfare,

dusky and bare,

stray dogs, bastards at the watch,

and guns at the ready.

Such things as I have not seen,

or wished not to see,

such as the portal to 2001,

and I wondered why any would choose

a particular year,

a door marked "Kennedy",

Why any would choose?

It came to me that all things served the beam,

and I sat with mouth harp,

and set this down at the foot of the Tower.

mirror glass darkly: William Blake's Songs of Innocence.

One half of the "Songs of Innocence and Experience" re-package done by William Blake himself for his patrons, Innocence stands at one of those things that looks at some of the best things in life, like a mother's soothing voice, home, green grass, and so forth.

He mentions "rest" several times, perhaps reflecting the weariness of William Blake at being a poet and printer, having designed and hand-painted his own prints.  Weariness comes, printing small runs of copy to sell to basically friends and supporters.  It's not as broad as having an Etsy store or an Ebay pop-up, and otherwise, without major publisher support, artists even today are lost in the noise.

But, of Innocence.

"On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

'Pipe a song about a lamb!'

Blake does, including the Lamb in this volume on Innocence, a true majestic soft-spoken counterpoint to the later Experience masterpiece, "The Tyger".

"Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:

He is called by thy name,

For he calls himself a Lamb...."

The artist is somehow included in the religious elegy, as one kind of creator, just as he plays a bit rougher and more original in "The Tyger", but here is a sing-song kind of nursery rhyme.

I imagine it being read softly, and the syllables, the consonants being soft in their iteration, just like the silent "b" on "lamb".

Later:

"My mother taught me underneath a tree

And sitting down before the heat of the day

She took me on her lap and kissed me,

And pointing to the east began to say:

Look on the rising sun: there God does live

And gives his light, and gives his heat away

and Flower and trees and beast and men receive

Comfort in morning joy in the noonday..."

Everything good, or identified as good, the comfort provided by a mother, and the restful cool of morning.  In the particular poem there, "The Black Boy" he speaks of the white counterpart, the English lad, coming to love the black boy.

"Pretty pretty robin!

Under leaves so green

A happy blossom

Hears you sobbing sobbing

Pretty pretty robin

near my bosom."

Later, in "The Chimney Sweeper", we are provided perhaps comic relief in the form of workmen, something not shown so much in art in England, the supposed "lower class" or even "workers", but again, a religious piece noting that to do one's duty was God's will.

"The little boy lost in the lonely fen,

Led by wand'ring light,

Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,

Appear'd like his father, in white,

He kissed the child, and by the hand led,

And to his mother brought..."

And even night is brought under God's hand in verse, and God here is ultimately fatherly and providential.

"Sound the flute!

Now it's mute,

Birds delight

Day and night;

Nightingale

In the dale,

Lark in sky,

Merrily,

Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year."

And closing the Innocence verses:

"Little Lamb,

Here I am;

Come and lick

My white neck;

Let me pull

Your soft wool;

Let me kiss

Your soft face..."

And if it wasn't child's rhyme, it certainly mimics that art, in Blake's art, with a religious bent, and even the rhyme of the shepherd speaks that when the beasts know the shepherd is near, they are happy and calmed......

 


NASCAR: Michigan is a "bull ring".

With chassis issues ironed-out so far mid-season, it looks like this Michigan race is gonna be a test of cornering under the throttle.

Quite a few drivers, even the self-styled "best"(Kyle Busch) has had issues when getting back on the throttle with the wheel turned.  I've known this bane in simulations, particularly with the first V8 road course car I jumped on.

The trick has been maybe feathering the throttle, but that too might be a kerfluffle waiting to happened at this Michigan "bull ring".

The only hope is that any crashes don't precipitate injuries, especially with Kurt Busch still on the shelf from a kerflopple.  That in itself has precipitated Ty Gibbs getting some Cup experience, though, and it all seems to have worked-out well for the fans, in the end.

But here's hoping Kyle Busch a full-recovery and clearance to get back in his Monster Energy car.

McDowell is pushing hard to make Top 10's even after penalties, and it looks like the team has been working hard to give him good equipment for the races.  Anyway, that's my take-away from his recent penalty, that the were pushing the envelope to find an edge, and it looks like they're finding some ways to do that without breaking rules, too, despite the recent infraction.

Michigan will be a good test of Bubba Wallace too, who has been holding to the front lately, but don't discount the bigger teams, the usual suspects, and Harvick is on the hunt for the front, too.

Photojournal: the Magnolia bud.

 

Not a great camera, but monkeying around with it today gave me a feel for its capabilities.  In the parlance of old school print cameras, I was "burning film".

But I got a few good shots of things around the place, and a potentially marketable one that I withheld on the SD card.

This Magnolia bud.  How about that?  Think there's a seed in there?  There are a few sprouts from this particular tree.  It only stands 7 ft tall and is about 45 years old, while its sibling is huge and the leaves are a different color.  Light and soil conditions, though on the same property, are vastly different.  This one somehow spawned about 8 offspring, of which I wanted to pot them and sell them, but ethical concerns got in the way.



 

Movie: Beyond the Darkness/Buio Omega. A few not so carefully-selected remarks.

 

And here you were thinking real porn was for real degenerates, whereas the impetus towards filmed sex acts as rather..... dare I say.... human.

Probably there was porn as long as there was cameras, old deriggables-type of Margaret Ann pullling up her bloomers or opening her corset, but here is Buio Omega, or "Beyond the Darkness" procured in Severin film livery for the princely sum of $9.12.

I should have bought almost three thousand of them at that price, me an Elon Musk or Jay-Z of the blog world, a wealth of ideas if not of money.

Perturbation is something that comes to us all, and the fuse is as they say, "readily at hand".

Joe D'Amato's effects masterpiece, known perhaps for its tricky camera angles and so forth than any real heroics, and certainly not known for its story, a sister-loving taxidermist, and his sister, competing for his full affections, for a dead lady.

It's the Fulci effect, that the story is asinine, but the effects shot sells the piece, and it does, and perhaps, I threw up in a trash can watching this one ages ago, toss my cookies in a trash can, but was powerless to look away.

I'm thinking, that not even Blue Underground would touch this one.


 

Sort of a modern day Frankenstein, sorely lacking in the available melodrama, and their could be melodrama, with the exception that the taxidermist seems to be irrepressibly horny for the dead girl, and his own sister to some extent, and stick his thing into quite a few ladies in the film that are neither of those two.

The bathroom floor: this was art, high art, putting the ladies nude thigh and pelvis front and center, that if the effects man wasn't a genius, certainly the cinematographer was worthy of mention for that idea.

A lopping, a flopping, a machete that finally dings the bathroom tile, and Jason couldn't have done it better himself.

And for $9.12, me being in for 10.30 or so.

Joe the Tomato not withstanding, and missing bike riders and all, it was not really a good time, watching basically a sicko do an autopsy on his dead girlfriend, but really, it had to be done on film at some point.  And just for the record, it was my parents that chose the film years back, not me.  But later I'd have that bit of snooty love of foreign film, but Mr Hurlot this isn't.  The only hurling was my potatoes au gratin ejecting from my throat.

"Joe Tomato.

Youngling me chunking cheesy potato.

He knocked out her window.

Climbing over her azalea.

Severin Films

has no gag reflex."

A good time, I wot, if you have a clinical interest in gore scenes, but for the morbid?  There was the sister, I guess.  Gothic slut popping a titty in his mouth as a reward, and milk of mongolasia, it was, he seemed to like it.

-Tout Finis

site tip jar. feed for a dead horse, mayhap.

 


Movie Idea: Dogfather's Pizza and Muffler Shop/Counterpoint to the prior music video

 

Dearest K.  I still admire your portrait, even from the deepest gloom of my prison cell.  It's helped me get over, many a night, my love.

I know I have your heart, no matter where you may go.

"And many miles to go.  Many miles to go."

I had thought that you all would camp out on the living room floor watching Shrek 3 or Black Panther or Spiderman Far From Home.  I don't know what's right.  I get Netflix here.  The guards chuckle about the 15 thousand dollar bill that the institution gets for our entertainment, but we're otherwise a very dullardish people, you understand.

Musta been a bad time

to smell the rain

to be in love.

I do drugs with the girl that I'm talking about

I burn Escalades in the night.

I'm in county and I can't get out,

my heart is hers and there can't be no doubt.

I'm sure you and the little dears passed out into unconsciousness with the 10000 BTU spitting ice and the movie just getting good, Flash hitting the multiverse and all, Michael Keaton showing up.  I woulda woke yall up for that, bebe.

No that my heart roams no further than your doorstep, or maybe the lean-to on the back of the trailer, there and no further.

Of the pizza what he remarked, "Look what they did to my combination pizza."

Someday I will ask you to do a favor, and when they day comes, ignore the distant thunder, for it is the sound of hot vengeance raining down.

I smell the rain, smell the rain, smell the rain....

Musta been a bad time

to be in love

a bad time

to be in love

a bad time 

to be in love.

site tip jar. 

On acclaim and economy.

 

To be admired is to be remembered by the plurality, but in maintaining our own sanity, we so often have to disregard the plurality that it all seems so much vanity and wind-slapping.  So we must let that be for another day, to have the esteem of people about which we could give less than a care.

For today, we have family and friends, concentric circles, nested lists, sorted and unsorted, fools of a different stripe, and fools of our common stripe, people that if they were mad, they have my or our kind of madness.

These and not much else.

To have their love is enough, and I say, would I also have their respect along with the accompanying bother of the offing?

The bigger you are, the more prodigious the shadow; the more it takes to sustain you.  Why else do you think the ascetics talked of having small thinly bodies?  They wished to take little, spend not so much time and treasure on diet.

As of the 112-year-old woman in the old USSR who ate her porridge and sausage link every morning.

And to have an economy is not to overspend, but to spend and observe incoming and outgoing, a digestive bouncer and doorman.  To be further the master of oneself.

Think further, if you enjoyed eating, would their not come a time when your happiness depending on fine eating?  And to be denied sumptuous fare would hurt somehow?

As of the old adage, "eat to live; do not live to eat", accredited to Ben Franklin of the Poor Richard stripe, a commonism, not communism, but not far from it, something from the chowline for the writer of truisms and common wit.

site tip jar. leave something if you feel the urge.


IGA Love: A short video idea, with music. Call it maybe a, I don't know, "music video".

Fatfish, in folding chair with guitar, singing out: "But it musta been a bad time..."

Passersby glance dubiously at Fatfish, not knowing what to make of the odd little leprechaun man with the guitar singing oldies.

Mirror glass doors, the sliding doors of the store.  This time with reflective coating, which helps to spurn heat.

C7 chord on piano. quarter notes, around a 140 bpm.

F, Bb, C.

Chunk on it.

On: Doors sliding open.

We're suddenly following behind a young fattish woman, in pajama pants, tee shirt, bedroom shoes.

She's walking in, and her bedroom shoes are flopping.

Her ass jiggles somewhat.

Raison' d'etre.

Ranch dressing.  To hand.

Spray cheese.  To hand.

King Vitamin.  To hand.

Can of Monster Java.  To hand.

Trailer add-on laundry room, old rotty ply wood, old washer and dryer.

Vocal: "I smell the rain, smell the rain, smell the rain..."  It kind of descends with a guitar counter-point.

Cop drives up in cruiser, gets out slow, hands on hips, looking around slowly.  Art shot.  There is the little old trailer on the edge of a field of crops.  Big old horizon.

A Malibu and another cruiser.

A well dressed black lady knocks on door.(Social Services representative)

children come to pajama girl, happily, and she happy, and they embrace, going in house.

Pajama girl gives a curt glance towards cops and well dressed lady, then shuts door on them.

The whole degenerates into Guitar and Drum only, with the C7 piano bit melting farther into the background, until it becomes a B minor in the seventh position.

VOCAL: "Musta been a bad tiiiiiiiime.  To smell the rain."

Track awkwardly picks up Coda of Grand Funk Railroad's old song, Bad Time, with bass, drums, acoustic guitar rhythm and lead, and a soaring electric guitar lead.

VOCAL: "To be in love.  To be in love.  To be in love. To be in love."

Fade into oblivion.

April 13. "You might think I'm lying, but..."

"...we strip the very screw [that] we want to turn..."   - Ryan Holiday, The Obstacle Is The Way. *MLB's Joe Girardi has in t...