Quote of the Day
"What would you think of a man who not only kept an arsenal in his home, but was collecting, at enormous financial sacrifice, a second arsenal to protect the first one? What would you say if this man so frightened his neighbors that they in turn were collecting weapons to protect themselves from him? What if this man spent ten times as much money on his expensive weapons as he did on the education of his children? What if one of his children criticized his hobby, and he called that child a traitor and a bum and disowned him? And he took another child who obeyed him faithfully and armed that child and sent it out into the world to attack neighbors? What would you say about a man who introduces poisons into the water he drinks and the air he breathes? What if this man not only is feuding with the people on his block but involves himself in the quarrels of others in distant parts of the city and even in the suburbs? Such a man would clearly be a paranoid schizophrenic...with homicidal tendencies."
–-Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea, The Illuminatus!
_
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Bandage
Band sticks
in a twist,
close as a kiss.
Peels off
fingerprints,
then tip switch,
mini rips.
Invisible fizz
or steamy window--
I'm not real here
under plastic.
Glue fly bitch!
One more
tiny torturing itch.
Zipper
It bites!
A Nazi hiss
and troops
linking arms--
each golden tooth
attacking a gap
with metallic,
zombie passion.
Haves stronger
than sums
become total.
Till the lips
slide back,
unknitting creation.
Apple Essence
Crisp: chlorophyll green,
not dead or red.
A knife and a conspiracy
of slices--
some cyanide,
a suicide, an arrow.
The tight, thin wrapping
of snake evil,
mashed into Mommy-pie
America.
All knowledge is falling.
Vaseline
The slow suck
of soft gray focus.
Soothing ooze,
without air
or water--
but moist,
such a wet envelope.
Such a tender grip.
Slide, slide,
suffocation time,
this oily pause,
all blur and funny.
A jar of love.
_
Bandage
Band sticks
in a twist,
close as a kiss.
Peels off
fingerprints,
then tip switch,
mini rips.
Invisible fizz
or steamy window--
I'm not real here
under plastic.
Glue fly bitch!
One more
tiny torturing itch.
Zipper
It bites!
A Nazi hiss
and troops
linking arms--
each golden tooth
attacking a gap
with metallic,
zombie passion.
Haves stronger
than sums
become total.
Till the lips
slide back,
unknitting creation.
Apple Essence
Crisp: chlorophyll green,
not dead or red.
A knife and a conspiracy
of slices--
some cyanide,
a suicide, an arrow.
The tight, thin wrapping
of snake evil,
mashed into Mommy-pie
America.
All knowledge is falling.
Vaseline
The slow suck
of soft gray focus.
Soothing ooze,
without air
or water--
but moist,
such a wet envelope.
Such a tender grip.
Slide, slide,
suffocation time,
this oily pause,
all blur and funny.
A jar of love.
_
Friday, March 11, 2005
Quote of the Day: Nothingness
Quote of the Day
"Dan Alilpaz asks: Before the inception of the universe, there apparently existed only a singularity, outside of which existed 'nothing'. My question is simple: what is the 'nothing' that you speak of that exists outside the singularity? Can it be explained?
Bill replies: No. There may be astrophysicists or really brainy people who can somehow grasp the idea of total nothingness, but as hard as I try, the closest I can come to it is just an idea of a big, dark, empty space. But of course there was no space, no time, no existence of any kind - not even a dot, nothing at all you can focus on. And I personally don't think the human mind can really get to grips with that. I don't think anybody can really meaningfully imagine 'nothing'. Certainly not me."
More at Bill Bryson answers your questions
Something for nothing? Shop for a "singularity" on eBay here.
_
"Dan Alilpaz asks: Before the inception of the universe, there apparently existed only a singularity, outside of which existed 'nothing'. My question is simple: what is the 'nothing' that you speak of that exists outside the singularity? Can it be explained?
Bill replies: No. There may be astrophysicists or really brainy people who can somehow grasp the idea of total nothingness, but as hard as I try, the closest I can come to it is just an idea of a big, dark, empty space. But of course there was no space, no time, no existence of any kind - not even a dot, nothing at all you can focus on. And I personally don't think the human mind can really get to grips with that. I don't think anybody can really meaningfully imagine 'nothing'. Certainly not me."
More at Bill Bryson answers your questions
Something for nothing? Shop for a "singularity" on eBay here.
_
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Totem Poles
Totem Up
Sometimes I think writing a poem is like constructing a totem pole, at least when it's the vertical type divided into stanzas. I suppose you could say that about anything composed as a series of interconnected images, and totem poles seem to be a powerful organizing concept for visual artists -- connecting, as they do, two realms (the earth to the sky, the material to the spiritual). These digital totem poles, for example, were influenced by both the manmade and the natural world, and have a certain numinous quality.
Real totem poles have always fascinated me. As a boy, I used to have a miniature one on the table by my bed. I think I bought it at a souvenir shop when my family visited the Pacific Northwest. It had three colorful faces, a protruding nose (or beak?) and a set of wings, and somehow it made me feel safe at night. (Whatever happened to it? Why do childhood "totems" just seem to vanish as we get older? I certainly didn't throw it away.)
_
Sometimes I think writing a poem is like constructing a totem pole, at least when it's the vertical type divided into stanzas. I suppose you could say that about anything composed as a series of interconnected images, and totem poles seem to be a powerful organizing concept for visual artists -- connecting, as they do, two realms (the earth to the sky, the material to the spiritual). These digital totem poles, for example, were influenced by both the manmade and the natural world, and have a certain numinous quality.
Real totem poles have always fascinated me. As a boy, I used to have a miniature one on the table by my bed. I think I bought it at a souvenir shop when my family visited the Pacific Northwest. It had three colorful faces, a protruding nose (or beak?) and a set of wings, and somehow it made me feel safe at night. (Whatever happened to it? Why do childhood "totems" just seem to vanish as we get older? I certainly didn't throw it away.)
_
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Leonard Nimoy sings about Bilbo Baggins
Kitsch Alert
Who says the '60s were cool? A Star Trek-era Leonard Nimoy sings about Bilbo Baggins in this .MOV file, which rivals William Shatner's cover of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" for hilarious awfulness. On second thought, nothing could rival that.
_
Who says the '60s were cool? A Star Trek-era Leonard Nimoy sings about Bilbo Baggins in this .MOV file, which rivals William Shatner's cover of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" for hilarious awfulness. On second thought, nothing could rival that.
_
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
The Swerve
Something caused it:
an unlucky number, perhaps,
or the hara-kiri desire
that makes stars fall
in the dark.
It may have been a crack
in a dangerous sidewalk
on the wrong Friday,
or the weird beams that flash
from a splintered mirror.
Anyway, it startled the horses,
pulled the sun behind a cloud,
played ominous violins,
made crickets chirp
with dire prophesies.
Now we sit suspended,
teetering on the canyon edge,
staring down at a poisonous fog
that rises with lazy hauteur,
slow and inexorable.
Waiting for the wind.
_
The Swerve
Something caused it:
an unlucky number, perhaps,
or the hara-kiri desire
that makes stars fall
in the dark.
It may have been a crack
in a dangerous sidewalk
on the wrong Friday,
or the weird beams that flash
from a splintered mirror.
Anyway, it startled the horses,
pulled the sun behind a cloud,
played ominous violins,
made crickets chirp
with dire prophesies.
Now we sit suspended,
teetering on the canyon edge,
staring down at a poisonous fog
that rises with lazy hauteur,
slow and inexorable.
Waiting for the wind.
_
Monday, March 07, 2005
ukulele books
Book and Music
Someday, when electronic paper is perfected, the book as we know it may disappear -- except, perhaps, as a limited edition, handmade art object. Such books exist already, in a variety of shapes and sizes. You can even find them in the shape of ukuleles. Just don't try to order them from Amazon. (Why a ukelele? why not?)
Most of the books on my shelves are conventional rectangles, but I do have a book about New York architecture that is shaped like a skyscraper, and my son has a book about pirates that is shaped like a ship's sail.
_
Someday, when electronic paper is perfected, the book as we know it may disappear -- except, perhaps, as a limited edition, handmade art object. Such books exist already, in a variety of shapes and sizes. You can even find them in the shape of ukuleles. Just don't try to order them from Amazon. (Why a ukelele? why not?)
Most of the books on my shelves are conventional rectangles, but I do have a book about New York architecture that is shaped like a skyscraper, and my son has a book about pirates that is shaped like a ship's sail.
_
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Word of the Day
Word of the Day
buteonine (adj)
of, like or pertaining to buzzards
Justina was offended by the buteonine swarming of so many distant relatives after Uncle Cedric died.
_
buteonine (adj)
of, like or pertaining to buzzards
Justina was offended by the buteonine swarming of so many distant relatives after Uncle Cedric died.
_
Friday, March 04, 2005
24 Dreaming
TGIF
Right now, dishcloths are plotting to maintain Web pages about a nervous meals-on-wheels van. My maypole and snorkel are flaming, and toxic waste barrels that I work with may be half-dead.
Well, it's Friday and, to me, incoherent babbling seems perfectly apt. You can find more of this sort of applesauce at 24 Dreaming, a site that generates surreal statements, apparently based (loosely) on actual plot summaries from a TV series called 24. Slightly more coherent -- but far more dreamlike, I think -- plot commentaries can be found at 24ever. Doesn't seem to matter if, like me, you don't watch the show -- as long as you gyre and gimble in the wabe.
_
Right now, dishcloths are plotting to maintain Web pages about a nervous meals-on-wheels van. My maypole and snorkel are flaming, and toxic waste barrels that I work with may be half-dead.
Well, it's Friday and, to me, incoherent babbling seems perfectly apt. You can find more of this sort of applesauce at 24 Dreaming, a site that generates surreal statements, apparently based (loosely) on actual plot summaries from a TV series called 24. Slightly more coherent -- but far more dreamlike, I think -- plot commentaries can be found at 24ever. Doesn't seem to matter if, like me, you don't watch the show -- as long as you gyre and gimble in the wabe.
_
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Daredevils of Niagara Falls
Falling
What is it that inspires someone to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel? Some combination of nihilism and an aversion to anonymity, I'm guessing. In any case, the history of this strange compulsion is outlined with admirable concision at Daredevils of Niagara Falls. The first person to do it -- and live -- was a woman, Annie Taylor, in 1901. She "expected fame and fortune [but] died in poverty." (Has Hollywood overlooked a story there?) The most recent successful attempt, by a male and female team, was in 1995. And in 2003, Kirk Jones became the first "stunter" to "survive the plunge wearing only the clothes on his back." (For his trouble, he was fined $2,300 and banned from Canada for life.) Miraculously, he emerged from the Niagara River with only bumps and bruises. Unfortunately, Jones's friend/accomplice drank too much before the stunt and failed to capture it with his camcorder. Correction: ex-friend/accomplice. The site also includes a link to a live Niagara Falls webcam . . . I visited the falls as a kid and remember staring down into that raging current. It did have a magnetic effect, and for a crazy moment I even felt the impulse myself.
_
What is it that inspires someone to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel? Some combination of nihilism and an aversion to anonymity, I'm guessing. In any case, the history of this strange compulsion is outlined with admirable concision at Daredevils of Niagara Falls. The first person to do it -- and live -- was a woman, Annie Taylor, in 1901. She "expected fame and fortune [but] died in poverty." (Has Hollywood overlooked a story there?) The most recent successful attempt, by a male and female team, was in 1995. And in 2003, Kirk Jones became the first "stunter" to "survive the plunge wearing only the clothes on his back." (For his trouble, he was fined $2,300 and banned from Canada for life.) Miraculously, he emerged from the Niagara River with only bumps and bruises. Unfortunately, Jones's friend/accomplice drank too much before the stunt and failed to capture it with his camcorder. Correction: ex-friend/accomplice. The site also includes a link to a live Niagara Falls webcam . . . I visited the falls as a kid and remember staring down into that raging current. It did have a magnetic effect, and for a crazy moment I even felt the impulse myself.
_
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Quote of the Day
Quote of the Day
"Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception."
--Mark Twain
_
"Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception."
--Mark Twain
_
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
