Sunday, January 30, 2011

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Monday, January 24, 2011

Sunday, January 23, 2011




johnny Dee was a lifelong friend of Elizabeth the Virgin Queen who would visit his home  Mortlake which had the largest library in Europe with over 6,000 volumes.   He counseled and read the stars for Edward and Mary Tudor.  His maps helped Drake explore the Americas.  He claimed to have caused the storms that drowned the Spanish Armada.  A contemporary described his appearance,
He was tall and slender. He wore a gown like an artist's gown, with hanging sleeves, and a slit.... A very fair, clear sanguine complexion... a long beard as white as milk. A very handsome man."
in addition:
he founded Trinity at Oxford
at 20 was a professor in paris
scheduled elizabeths coronation
coined the term "British Empire"
joined the  court of Rudolph II
discovered newfoundland
and listened to an angel
who said his wife should
sleep with his best friend

He spent a decade transcribing the trance
of  Edward Kelley, a scryer
his best friend
who with Dee looked into this
mirror or shew stone














volcanic glass
from Mexico
from the mexican god of rulers and  sorcerers
             Tezcatlipoca
or           smoking mirror












the black stone showed
angels pointing at tables














its case has a  label from 1771,
'            The Black Stone into which Dr Dee used to call his spirits ...'.




Dr. Dee wrote:
The Elements being far from their accustomed places, the homogeneous parts are dislocated, and this a man learns by experiment, for it is along the straight lines that they return naturally and effectively to these same places. Therefore, it will not be absurd to represent the mystery of the four Elements, in which it is possible to resolve each one into elementary form, by four straight lines running in four contrary directions from one common and indivisible point. Here you will notice particularly that the geometricians teach that a line is produced by the displacement of a point: we give notice that it must be the same here, and for a similar reason, because our elementary lines are produced by a continual cascade of droplets as a flux in the mechanism of our magic.

Propaedeumata Aphoristica
Compendium Heptarchiae Mysticae
Mysteriorum Libri Quinque
Mysteriorum Liber Sextus et Sanctus
De Heptarchia Mystica
Hieroglyphic Monad











Dr. Dee drew



















In 1589 he came back to England and his library had been  burned .
Decades later, a man, E ashmole recovered some of the books and wrote:
On the 10th: of the said Sept: Mr: Wale came thither to me againe, & brought his wife with him, from her I received the following account of the preservation of these bookes, even till they came to my hands, vizt: That her former husband was one Mr: Jones a confectioner, who formerly dwelt at the Plow in Lumbardstreet London, & who, shortly after they were married, tooke her with him into Alde streete among the joyners, to buy some houshold stuff, where (at the corner house) they saw a chest of cedarwood, about a yard & halfe long, whose lock & hinges, being of extraordinary neate worke, invited them to buy it. The master of the shop told them it had ben parcell of the goods of Mr: John Woodall Chirurgeon (father to Mr: Thomas Woodall late Serjant Chirurgeon to his now Maiestie King Charles the 2d: (my intimate friend) and tis very probable he bought it after Dr: Dee's death, when his goods were exposed to sale.
Twenty yeares after this (& about 4 yeares before the fatall fire of London) she & her said husband occasionally removing this chest out of its usuall place, thought they heard some loose thing ratle in it, toward the right hand end, under the box or till thereof, & by shaking it, were fully satisfied it was so: Hereupon her husband thrust a peece of iron into a small crevice at the bottome of the Chest, & thereupon appeared a private drawer, which being drawne out, therein were found divers bookes in manuscript, & papers, together with a litle box, & therein a chaplet of olive beades, & a cross of the same wood, hanging at the end of them.
They made no great matter of these bookes &c: because they understood them not, which occasioned their servant maide to wast about one halfe of them under pyes & other like uses, which when discovered, they kept the rest more safe.
About two yeares after the discovery of these bookes, Mr: Jones died, & when the fire of London hapned, though the chest perished in the flames, because not easily to be removed, yet the bookes were taken out & carried with the rest of Mrs: Jones her goods into Moorefields, & being brought safely back, she tooke care to preserve them; and after marrying with the foresaid Mr: Wale, he came to the knowledge of them, & thereupon, with her consent, sent them to me, as I haue before set downe.


 

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Friday, January 21, 2011

Thursday, January 20, 2011













sunred afternoons
in tenth
ceiling tiles
animals
band as instrument
voices with lips
french pizza
as a leap in design
from Paris

Bruno on fire



















It is indeed a base, ugly and contaminated wit that is constantly occupied and curiously obsessed with the beauty of a female body! What spectacle, oh good God, more vile and ignoble can be presented to a mind of clear sensibilities than a rational man afflicted, tormented, gloomy, melancholic, who becomes now hot, now cold and trembling, now pale, now flushed, now confused, or now resolute;
one who spends most of his time and the choice fruits of his life letting fall drop by drop the elixir of his brain by putting into conceits and in writing, and sealing on public monuments those continual tortures, dire torments, those persuasive speeches, those laborious complaints and most bitter labours inevitable beneath the tyranny of an unworthy, witless, stupid and odoriferous foulness!
What a tragicomedy! What act, I say, more worthy of pity and laughter can be presented to us upon this world's stage, in this scene of our consciousness, than of this host of individuals who became melancholy, meditative, unflinching, firm, faithful, lovers, devotees, admirers and slaves of a thing without trustworthiness, a thing deprived of all constancy, destitute of any talent, vacant of any merit, without acknowledgment or any gratitude, as incapable of sensibility, intelligence or goodness, as a statue or image painted on a wall; a thing containing more haughtiness, arrogance, insolence, contumely, anger, scorn, hypocrisy, licentiousness, avarice, ingratitude and other ruinous vices, more poisons and instruments of death than could have issued from the box of Pandora?
For such are the poisons which have only too commodious an abode in the brain of that monster! Here we have written down on paper, enclosed in books, placed before the eyes and sounded in the ear a noise, an uproar, a blast of symbols, of emblems, of mottoes, of epistles, of sonnets, of epigrams, of prolific notes, of excessive sweat, of life consumed, shrieks which deafen the stars, laments which reverberate in the caves of hell, tortures which affect living souls with stupor, sighs which make the gods swoon with compassion,
and all this for those eyes,
for those cheeks,
for that breast,
for that whiteness,
for that vermilion,
for that speech,
for those teeth,
for those lips,
that hair,
that dress,
that robe,
that glove,
that slipper,
that shoe,
that reserve,
that little smile,
that wryness,
that window-widow,
that eclipsed sun,
that scourge,
that disgust,
that stink,
that tomb,
that latrine,
that menstruum,
that carrion,
that quartan ague,
that excessive injury and distortion of nature,
which with surface appearance, a shadow, a phantasm, a dream, a Circean enchantment put to the service of generation, deceives us as a species of beauty.
This is a beauty which comes and goes, is born and dies, blooms and decays; and is eternally beautiful for so very short a moment..
But what am I doing? What am I thinking? Do I perhaps despise the sun? Do I regret perhaps my own and others having come into this world? Do I perhaps wish to restrict men from gathering the sweetest fruit which the garden of our earthly paradise can produce? Am I perhaps for impeding nature's holy institution?

Must I attempt to withdraw myself or any other from the beloved sweet yoke which divine providence has placed about our necks? Have I perhaps to persuade myself and others that our predecessors were born for us, but that we were not born for our descendents? No, may God not desire that this thought should ever come into my head! In fact, I add, that for all the kingdoms and beatitudes which might ever be proposed or chosen for me, never was I so wise and good that there could come to me the desire to castrate myself or to become a eunuch.
In fact I should be ashamed, whatever may be my appearance, if I should desire ever to be second to any one who worthily breaks bread in the service of nature and the blessed God. And that such participation can be of assistance to one's good intentions I leave for the consideration of him who can judge for himself.
But I do not believe I am caught. For I am certain that all the snares and nooses which those people devise and have devised who specialize in knotting snares and entanglements will never suffice for my enemies to ensnare and entangle me. They would avail themselves (if I dare say it) of death itself, in order to do me mischief. Nor do I believe myself to be frigid, for I do not think that the snows of Mt. Caucusus or Ripheus would suffice to cool my passion.

What then do I mean? What conclusion do I wish to arrive at? What do I wish to decide?
What I would conclude and say is that what belongs to Caesar be rendered unto Caesar and what belongs to God be rendered unto God.
I mean that although there are cases when not even divine honors and adoration suffice for women, yet this does not mean that we owe them divine honors and worship.
I desire that women should be honored and loved as women ought to be loved and honored. Loved and honored for such cause, I say, and for so much, and in the measure due for the little they are, at that time and occasion when they show the natural virtue peculiar to them.
That natural virtue is the beauty, the splendor, and the humility without which one would esteem them to have been born in this world more vainly than a poisonous fungous occupying the earth to the detriment of better plants, more odious than any snake or viper which lifts its head from the dust.
I mean that everything in the universe, in order that it have stability and constancy, has its own weight, number, order and measure, so that it may be ordered and governed with all justice and reason.
Therefore Silenus, Bacchus, Pomona, Vertunnus, the god of Lampsacus and similar gods of the drinking hall, gods of strong beer, and humble wine, do not sit in heaven to drink nectar and taste ambrosia at the banquet of Jove, Saturn, Pallus, Phoebus and similar gods;
their vestments, temples, sacrifices and rites must differ from those of the great gods.
Finally, I mean that these heroic frenzies have a heroic subject and object, and therefore can no more be esteemed as vulgar and physical loves than one can see dolphins in the trees of the forests or savage bears under the rocks of the sea.




















 February 17,1600

Monday, January 17, 2011

Nightwood

Jenny Petherbridge was a widow, a middle-aged woman who had been married four times. Each husband had wasted away and died; she had been like a squirrel racing a wheel day and night in an endeavor to make them historical; they could not survive it.
She had a beaked head and body, small, feeble, and ferocious, that somehow made one associate her with Judy; they did not go together. Only severed could any part of her have been called "right." There was a trembling ardour in her wrists and fingers as if she were suffering from some elaborate denial. She looked old, yet expectant of age; she seemed to be steaming in the vapours of someone else about to die; still she gave off an odour to the mind (for there are purely mental smells that have no reality of a woman about to be accouchée.

 Her body suffered from its fare, laughter and crumbs, abuse and indulgence. But put out a hand to touch her, and her hand moved perceptibly with the broken arc of two instincts, recoil and advance, so that the head rocked timidly and aggressively at the same moment, giving her a slightly shuddering and expectant rhythm.
She writhed under the necessity of being unable to wear anything becoming, being one of those panicky little women who, no matter what they put on, look like a child under penance.
She had a fancy for tiny ivory or jade elephants; she said they were luck; she left a trail of tiny elephants wherever she went; and she went hurriedly and gasping.
Her walls, her cupboards, her bureaux, were teeming with second-hand dealings with life. It takes a bold and authentic robber to get first –hand plunder.

Someone else's marriage ring was on her finger; the photograph taken of Robin for Nora sat upon her table. The books in her library were other people's selections. She lived among her own things like a visitor to a room kept "exactly as it was when." She tiptoed, even when she went to draw a bath, nervous and andante. She stopped, fluttering and febrile, before every object in her house.

She had no sense of humour or peace or rest, and her own quivering uncertainty made even the objects which she pointed out to the company, as, "My virgin from Palma," or, "The left-hand glove of La Duse," recede into a distance of uncertainty, so that it was almost impossible for the onlooker to see them at all.

When anyone was witty about a contemporary event, she would look perplexed and a little dismayed, as if someone had done something that really should not have been done; therefore her attention had been narrowed down to listening for faux pas. She frequently talked about something being the "death of her," and certainly anything could have been had she been the first to suffer it.

The words that fell from her mouth seemed to have been lent to her; she had been forced to invent a vocabulary of two words, "ah" and "oh." Hovering, trembling, tip-toeing, she would unwind anecdote after anecdote in a light rapid lisping voice which one always expected to change, to drop and to become the "every day" voice; but it never did. The stories were humorous, well told. She would smile, toss her hands up, widen her eyes; immediately everyone in the room had a certain feeling of something lost, sensing that there was one person who was missing the importance of the moment, who had not heard the story; the teller herself.
She had endless cutting and scraps from her journals and old theatre programmes, haunted the Comédie Française, spoke of Molière, Racine and La Dame aux Camélias.

She was generous with money. She made gifts lavishly and spontaneously. She was the worst recipient of presents in the world. She sent bushel basket of camellias to actresses because she had a passion for the characters they portrayed. The flowers were tied with yards of satin ribbon, and a note accompanied them, effusive and gently.
To men she sent books by the dozen; the general feeling was that she was a well-read woman, though she had read perhaps ten books in her life.

Saturday, January 15, 2011


















jim managed the band
kept them tight
fastened to his pants
working even when he stripped



prancing ego
miami - light my fire
crowd is raunchy
grand and trashed
vision preaching
he couldn't explain
before the Law

laughs during the long organ solo
john a pounding thoroughbred
robbie is quiet
best organ solo ever
robbie whispers all the lonely people
the solo when I think he
simulated fellatio
but then the crowd starts cheering
about something perhaps
his shirt is gone
           there are no rules
          do it
kids start talking
amongst themselves
           id  fuck her but shes too young
           come on up here
his last night
never been put down
even in new haven
but this is his last farewell
at precisely the same time
he stopped caring
fucking with everything
giving it all
sapien expression

screaming jackson expression

doesn't stop
              I want to see  some action out there
             your show
             anything you want goes!
hands the mic to someone
          someones gong to get hurt?!!
bullshit!

profane like  arthur
sleeping near marcel

 






























machines are now playing the game
solving it faster than we ever could
beating time
giant con entities
scrabbling

what happens when they outspeed
1000 trades per nanosecond
enlarging time
machine speed
a new flashing reality

 
algorithmic identity
with planning
shorting time
making us smaller and smaller
and it cant be stopped

 
working for computer behemoths
shooting the pinball
past infinity
why wouldn't they increase
the member stream
to immediate devaluation

am I not a conceit
on top of the
mountain of assumptions

drama takes on a silicon
immortal body but
will it ever reach the
end of randomness

 
a dream
dreaming a dream
in the data stream of
idea City

strange grindings
flying home
parents in the sky
shoulders into the wave
memories of violence
you know how they say
enjoy life
well i did well
its been worth it
here at the end
all three together
and never a sad thought
memory
just smiles
and horns





Friday, January 14, 2011

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Sunday, January 2, 2011

heard in two ten



take off my glasses
impressionniste
in wood
safe from
human action
and accuracy

outside
or just more inside

a communication
with five realities
among five known
bodies of self:
               matter
               image
               vision
               magic 
               chaos

each gathering of arrangements
which we minimize as objects
like our body(s)
has something of each state
some more demonstrable 
you can connect
each of your five bodies
to all five states
and should do so













each is working through you
but since you are unique
possess identity
an awareness
you can modulate weakly
the influence of each of these states
like your change of the physical world
with glasses

you can reach
far to
that little window
chaos
sexually carouse
with the first three
and hear matter's
coda to frustration
in giving so much
to order

take from chaos
chance and risk
like your species 
enjoyed
for millennia

seek the limits of your form
your uniqueness in all uniquities
why wouldn't you
before the end
when you will
past the frontier
america follows
the catholic West
trend toward
consolidation
for the purpose of greed
to depower humans
to a system
retarding their ability
to evolve
by restraining through authority
the interaction of the five
in favor of Order

yet Order is losing
entropy is increasing
yet still bound up in
patterns of dispersal
are we not the froth of Order
far greater order
than the insect hive
and our order
is creating its own identity
in a new arrangement of five
which by pattern and consistency
manipulation of your needs
is manipulating you NOW

will one
break the eggshell
reach out of a body
with abandon
and get through

or rather
leave a disappearing path
like the species
after at best a million years
either through evolution
or extinction
meaty stakes
but in a piffle
between order/ chaos
you only feel a little
and play an
iota
less than Lennin
who wont appear
more than a thousand years
for a mention
in "TIME"

music is a samba
between magic 
and the body image
with stronger communication
with matter
but music is more important
as proof
of communication
between the five

it is the boundary to
areas of pattern
you do not see
with your knowledge
which is really
style

paradox is another edge
just as spirituality
can reach the fifth
of chaos

religion is often a dead sidetrack
since communication
with the five
only rarely occurs
in calculated procedures
with other animals
our connection is too thin
so religious schemes
provide a false
sense of connection
and toy with
the first and second bodies'
desperate need and hope
for some continuity

which of course is impossible
and not needed
to continue the general movements
of chaos and order
also in you
which are only a rhythm
in a larger unknown scheme
we have no hope to
glimmer
out here
nearer at hand
in a forest of thousands
are angles among
magic forms
that shut down
the ever running
accuracy machine
fire is only a physical state
but fast processing of arrangement
bringing complete devastation
to matter 
impacts all five realities
spurring life
to compete
in species' code
through reproduction
and evolution
was there faster evolution
in the past
or is now
a period of slower
change in space
are not chaos and order
just the most common feature
gaining position
triggering our perception
is commoness
a power and influence
like any arrangement
even nonexistence

laws such as newton
a dictionary of commoners
which extend into the other five
in a simpler species
art was a manipulation
of sensory impressions
miming other realities

our artists
now explore
and interact with
the other five

writing translates best 
fiction is a play
of our living experience
in all five

poetry is immediate
more true
without irrelevant arrangements
character
conflict
history

mythology 
a subgroup's
representation
of the other five
should be treated
as schools of thought
thought like fire
is a thread
to the five
with broad avenues
to body image
weaker with magic
and strives
for chaos

thought in reason
is a mechanics view
of the arrangements between
the five which govern
their reach

among the five
arrangement
is the most
we see

is it a rare feature in
the next higher pattern
we cannot understand
like grains of sand
do not know the will
of our hand

sands and planets
are an eventual 
losing phase of matter
gathering together
for a relative short time
before being exploded
in another direction

the non-negotiable limit of our first body identity

limit
the first body
as in fasting
and open the aperture
to magic and chaos

writing or recording
is a way of affecting
in time 
the ongoing balances
of the five collective bodies
among portions
of the human inhabitants

dont allow influence by other entities
which offer teaching of the interplay
limit access to other realities
like X did

such tales may guide a journey
to a schizophrenia
distinct more shallow identities
dissolution or reincorporation
cognizable
as a stereotype