Early in the settlement of this locality also came William Kincaid who owned and occupied the Jessie Beard farm now owned by A. P. Pence, which property has recently become famous as a summer resort by reason of the medical qualities of the Buffalo Sulphur Springs.
Little did Kincaid dream of the medical properties boiling up out of this lick to which he then saw the wild buffalo rushing with madness to slake their thirst. It may be incidentally remarked here that traces of the old Buffalo path leading across Keeney’s Knob, from the Buffalo Springs to Green Sulphur Springs are still to be found.
Kincaid moved west about the beginning of the present century, and so far as we know, left no immediate descendants in this county. It is supposed on reasonable authority that William Kincaid belonged to the Kincaid family of Augusta and came here about the same time that the Grahams settled at Lowell.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Studies led by Professor Lennart Hardell in Sweden found significantly increased risk of brain tumors
from 10 or more years of cellphone or cordless phone use.
Among their many
significant findings are the following:
$ For every 100 hours of cellphone use, the risk of brain cancer increases by 5%;
$ For every year of cellphone use, the risk of brain cancer increases by 8%;
$ After 10 or more years of digital cellphone use, there was a 280% increased risk of
brain
cancer
$ For digital cellphone users who were teenagers or younger when they first starting
using a cellphone, there was a 420% increased risk of brain cancer.
The study's suggestion that the phone be kept one inch from the body has been met with vitriol and ridicule from the tech industry.
June 5
Had a rough ride over hills and dales to Guest's; Here brother Pigman met me, and gave an agreeable account of the work on the south branch of Patomac. I am kept in peace; and greatly pleased I am to get into the woods, where, although alone, I have blessed company, and sometimes think, Who so happy as myself?
June 6
We had twelve miles to R.'s, along a bushy, hilly road. A poor woman with a little horse, without a saddle, outwent us up and down the hills, and when she came to the place appointed, the Lord met with and blessed her soul.
King Kong is a great demonstration of a mind open and immediate and genuine. Too many years trying to accommodate some indifferent sense of cool. Tom Waits takes off a blind and is johnson.
Strange kind of forest with dinosaurs.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
THE white milk BAR
It had egg white walls with sky blue columns. From somewhere deep by the kitchen they played Love & Rockets and rubycon for the first two hours and ended up with the mondays, roses and suede at the end of the night. He knew it couldn't last, it was too stylish and intimidating rather than welcoming to willing women and fools. The front sidewalk was abandoned.
The pale blue neon CREAM mirrored in the river broke his thoughts and he walked up to the bar looking into dark corners where only legs and shapes were lit. The bar charged $15 for a buttered rum and there were no stools. He felt the blast of cold condition him as if an arctic cave. Noone was here to talk. He walked to the hallway marked "HOOKUP" and opened its dark glass door. The drapered entry was darker but a hostess stood behind a podium.
"I would like a girl 24 after college."
"We will have five choices for you in ten minutes. May I get you a drink?
" Some white tea please."
He watched the girl speak into her headset mic and a group of young college boys came in with a beeping callpod that the hostess deactivated in a smooth leading glide to the curtained tables in the back.
He was alone. A girl in a pale green blouse walked from the cabinettes.
"I know you're waiting, maybe I can help you. "
"If you have an hour that would be fine.," he looked down and shyly away.
"I leave in two", she took his hand and led him to a sheer pink curtain.
There were ivory smooth couches raised slightly above the floor, and the black sidetable was lit by a small blue lamp. Mercury rev whispered 30 feet away.
She opened a white box on a column coming down from above and unrolled two earsets with patches for an ear nerve. He felt her breath as she gently placed the inserts and felt only a tingle. The walls changed to a warm orange and he leaned back into a new pillow and looked at the ceiling which showed stars. His eyes went up and back and he felt a smile spread his face open.
The numbness started in his fingers, spread across his chest and closed his eyes until he felt nothing.
He opened his eyes and looked at her hands, her legs, felt her hair on her back. He raised her hands to her shoulders and felt her breasts under her wrists. The music changed to piped smooth notes trembling the silk walls as he looked to her left. He sat there passed out. She was in there, He was in her.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a tabscreen and projection opened up. He chose sex themes. The next two hours passed swiftly and the girl woke up next to him asking for a shower.
It was 7….. in the morning, ... He had no strength......
....
water is thought and thought like water crosses boundaries
water is an environment which permits solids (i.e. nutrients) to permeate cell borders and cellulose walls
thought is an environment which allows matter to permeate the unbreachable wall between throwaway flesh juice and awareness.
there is no physical state of mind.
thought infiltrates through matter through organization.
water is an environment which permits solids (i.e. nutrients) to permeate cell borders and cellulose walls
thought is an environment which allows matter to permeate the unbreachable wall between throwaway flesh juice and awareness.
there is no physical state of mind.
thought infiltrates through matter through organization.
Friday, September 11, 2009
head wading in smoke
orange sunrise
25 gone with the night
real girl
shy of shells
you here far away
driving (a)part
black horses
tending to your conception
ego/ at the wheel
coins flattering behind you
Culhwch where shall you rest
parapets pretty and scented?
from shaded buzz'rds
pickin at your dreams
wounds that always show
or music tired and known
juice for your eyes.
orange sunrise
25 gone with the night
real girl
shy of shells
you here far away
driving (a)part
black horses
tending to your conception
ego/ at the wheel
coins flattering behind you
Culhwch where shall you rest
parapets pretty and scented?
from shaded buzz'rds
pickin at your dreams
wounds that always show
or music tired and known
juice for your eyes.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Eddie Higgins-piano
Eddie died the last day of August still playing as he had done for fifty or more years. I had the privilege of listening to him in small clubs for the last fifteen and he was the finest musician I saw in the southern peninsula. He sat at the piano as if he was knitting, yet improvised at will and usually maintained three interacting phrases at all times. No score. He could change a tune endlessly just by varying his phenomenal touch which was emotionally more sensitive than Oscar Peterson.
He was listened to best with the eyes closed where you could see the different threads he spun dance and swirl. I was blessed to hear him play weekly with Raul Midon and Don Wilner on bass. Perhaps it was coincidence but he often played danny boy when he saw me at a back table late in the night with an espresso and cabernet.
You had to ask him, but he would pull out a satchel with a few of the twenty albums to which he had contributed. His cds were not available in stores so I often overpaid him since I was so grateful to enjoy his music in my home. I knew this day would come so I'm grateful that I thought to keep some cds unopened so I could listen to him for these years when he will be gone.
You should check him out playing Someone to watch over me which is usually on youtube somewhere. At the end of that song he plays Gershwin of whom he was a master. A humble generous artist who will be missed but history is just beginning for Mr. Higgins.
He was listened to best with the eyes closed where you could see the different threads he spun dance and swirl. I was blessed to hear him play weekly with Raul Midon and Don Wilner on bass. Perhaps it was coincidence but he often played danny boy when he saw me at a back table late in the night with an espresso and cabernet.
You had to ask him, but he would pull out a satchel with a few of the twenty albums to which he had contributed. His cds were not available in stores so I often overpaid him since I was so grateful to enjoy his music in my home. I knew this day would come so I'm grateful that I thought to keep some cds unopened so I could listen to him for these years when he will be gone.
You should check him out playing Someone to watch over me which is usually on youtube somewhere. At the end of that song he plays Gershwin of whom he was a master. A humble generous artist who will be missed but history is just beginning for Mr. Higgins.
Monday, September 7, 2009
He hadn't been all there for years, because he'd been into heroin all that time. In fact he actually ODed once and they had him in the morgue in San Jose with a tag on his toe. All of a sudden he got up and asked for a glass of water. Now he was snortin' big clumps of coke, and nothing would happen to him. We couldn't have him around because he'd be pacing the room, describing axe murders. So we got him a little place of his own. He had a little white rat named Oswald that would snort coke too. He'd never washed his dishes, and he'd try to get these little grammar school girls to go into the house with him. He was real bad. One of the parents finally called the cops, and they took him to the County Mental Health Hospital in Santa Cruz. Where they immediately lost him, and he turned up days later in the women's ward."
In a while I'll find the time to make the sunshine mine (my)
In a smile I saw a single eagle in the sky
Wheeling, soaring, gliding by
On a hill there lived a man with many shining things
Shiny pool, shiny car and shiny diamond rings
Wining, dining, shining king
And the eagle flies in clear blue skies
Breathing in the clear blue air
Back here on the ground another dealer coughs and dies
And fifty more come rolling off
The Ford production line
Then a man appearing like a mirage on the sand
In his hand a moving picture of the crumbling land
Screaming, dealing, movie man
Here we go, hold your nose and see if something blows
Close your eyes, count to ten and see the sunrise rise
Climbing high into the sky
By the ornamental lake a diamond lies
Upon the finger of the king
On high, the eagle spies the glitter of a gun
Then wheeling in a climbing turn he flies into the sun
Process is key. Once you know the rules of a process you can effect continous change with no continuing attention.
Virtual reality approaches objective experience by the creation,design and operation of rules. The greater the detail in rules, the deeper the reality.
There is no ultimate speck of matter but only a rule or process at work. At all levels until the vacuum origin, the universe(s) is process, a series of rules,
e.g.
on/off
yes/no
0/1,
and by combination of these selections facilitating greater and greater choice and thereby complexity.
Yet it remains the vacuum.
“TRICKS OF THE TRADE”
MOUTH CLOSURE
Properly set features are vital to the best appearance of the deceased. A little care exercised during this phase of preparation will help ensure a good final outcome.
First relieve the rigor mortis if present, and then disinfect. If you do not disinfect the oral cavity, after the case has been embalmed a greenish or dark look can form around the mouth. This is a most important step that most embalmers never take the time to do. To disinfect, the Champion Company makes a product called Metriguard (a bactericidal, fungicidal, viricidal, pseudomonacidal and tuberculocidal disinfectant). It works better than any other product on the market today. You should always remove dentures before disinfecting the oral cavity; also clean and disinfect the dentures before replacing them.
Next, clean and dry the mouth, and pack the throat with some cotton with massage cream on it. This will help prevent the cotton from acting as a wick and help control purge and odor arising from the stomach or lungs.
Examine the lips and clean and remove all loose skin. Dodge makes a product called Dry Wash, which works great for cleaning off the lips. If the lips have scabs, massage cream will help in loosening them so that removal is easier. Observe the “weather line;” remember your basics you were taught in school. The expression of the deceased can be one of the most criticized areas of the embalming.
Secure the mandible. There are many different ways to do this, and I believe it is a personal choice of each embalmer. However, as a trade embalmer, I believe it is best to suture the mouth closed. You never know who might get your case ready; many unlicensed preparers have the tendency to drop the head back, and, when using the needle injector, the mouth will pop open. If this occurs, the embalmer will be told that his job wasn’t satisfactory. It will never be the fault of the person dressing and bouncing the body around; it will only be the fault of the embalmer. This is also why I prefer a full macue, or, as they call it today, a Mandibular Suture.
A mandibular suture is made by opening the mouth, inserting a threaded needle (I prefer black thread, it is less obvious) at the center of the mouth, at the base of the tongue behind the lower teeth. Push the needle downward, exiting about an inch or so past the point of the chin (see diagram below), and come out in the soft tissues on the base of the chin (NOT as close to the sunmandibular area as most have been taught - that’s the reason most of you have big dimples when suturing a mouth). Reinsert your needle into the same small hole at the base of the chin and guide your needle upward carefully, just in front of the left side of the center of the mandible (feeling or scraping the mandible with your needle as you go upward). You will then come up in front of the bottom teeth, where the lip attaches to the gum. Now the suture has passed completely around the mandible. Next, gently pull on both ends of the suture string (in a sawing motion) so you will saw through the soft tissue until it reaches the mandible. Place the palm of your hand under the chin and push it up with a forward motion from the neck to the chin. This will help you to not dimple the area.
Now you can insert your threaded needle into the left nostril at a point where the upper lip joins the maxilla under the nostril. Make sure you keep your needle as close to the bone as possible. Direct the needle into the opening of the nostril, making sure you don’t come out into any flesh (if you come out into the flesh this will cause a pulling of the nose, a big no-no). Then repeat the same step on the right nostril except, after you come out into the opening of the nostril, pass your needle trough the septum (as low as possible) of the nose, and come out the opening of the left nostril. I personally prefer to go from the right side to the left so that my liguature is tucked away in the non-viewing side of the nose.
Use your hand to hold the mandibile up into place (do not use your string alone to pull the jaw up), check out the postionings of your mouth closure, and, when you have it at the proper position (the mandible doesn’t have to always be pulled all the way shut for a good mouth closure), then tie off both of your free ends of the suture string in the nose to hold it gently snug. Place some Vaseline or massage cream on the lips to help hold them in place. It also helps to keep them moisturized while embalming. Tie your suture in a bow. I leave my string hanging out of the nostril while I am embalming so that if I need to adjust the mouth closure again after I am done embalming, I can do so.
When I have completed my embalming, I tuck the string down into the nose so it won’t be seen; then, if an adjustment is necessary, one can be done. Also, place a dab of massage cream on the hole you made under the chin so that dehydration won’t occur. This hole can be waxed in very easily when cosmetics are done.
Jon Snyder, author of this month’s tip, wishes to acknowledge the work of Mr. Bob Mayer, embalmer and textbook author, for some of the information contained in this description of correct mouth closure. The illustration used is from the textbook The Principles and Practice of Embalming by Clarence G. Strub, L.E. and L.G. “Darko” Frederick, L.E.-L.F.D.
Things are good and the future looks bright.
Onset is from 10 minutes to several hours, beginning with facial muscles. Greatest stiffness may be 12-48 hours after death, and rigor mortis may last up to 72 hours. The bottom line is that the muscles remain contracted until they start decomposing.
Does she dig Rimbaud?
Friday, January 25, 2008
LIZ SMITH reports on Joe Russo-Paris Hilton!!
PARIS HILTON, whose sense of "history" is what she did
the night before last, turns out to be a big fan of
the late Jim Morrison, charismatic lead singer of The
Doors. Hilton's '60s pop culture crawl has led her to
N.Y.-based Morrison look-alike singer Joe Russo. She's
picking his brain to find out where she can purchase
Morrison artifacts. Hilton has already made
pilgrimages to his gravesite, the fabled Pere-Lachaise
Cemetery. (Oscar Wilde, Sarah Bernhardt, Frederic
Chopin and Gertrude Stein keep Jim company.)
Paris' great desire is to own the gold-plated
microphone Morrison used in various concerts and
during his notorious 1968 Ed Sullivan appearance,
singing "Light My Fire." (Sullivan demanded that Jim
change the lyric "girl we couldn't get much higher."
The rocker said, "Sure." Then he went right ahead and
sang it his way. Sullivan was furious; The Doors
didn't care.)
Comments:
Yeah...I still don't like her. She should at least get a boob job at least she would have something
Sorry! I hate her guts. With all that money she should be helping the folks in need instead of walking around with hair extentions looking for best friends in england.
At the risk of getting my ass kicked in this thread, why can't Paris be a fan like anyone else? What excludes her from being a Doors fan? Why do some of you get to decide who is a Doors fan and who is not? She didn't choose being born into wealth anymore than someone would choose being born into poverty. If she was photographed wearing a Doors t-shirt a few years ago and is obsessively seeking memorabilia today with the help of Joe Russo, a name that is probably known mostly to serious Doors fans, that hardly constitutes a phase. I'm amazed that when it becomes popular to beat up on somebody, the masses just line up. I know virtually nothing about this woman. Neither do any of you. Yet, you all come down on her like she's the second coming of Hitler. Somebody wrote that she has nothing to offer. Perhaps she has something to offer those that are close to her like many of us who are not in the spotlight do. Somebody wrote that it would be blasphemous for her to acquire memorabilia. Why? Is it because she happened to have been born into wealth or that the cameras of the paparazzi are trained on her 24/7? What excludes her from being a Doors fan? Is it because she is perceived as being an airhead? I highly doubt that she is as stupid as her public persona suggests. More than likely it is an act. The public has a perception of her, and she is exploiting that. Paris has more than likely been manipulating the media and, in turn, the public, and she has been successful at it
Paris is just an example of young Hollywood at its worst. She's just one of many. That Lohan chick is another example. Having money is not really the issue here. She "flaunts" her wealth and feels that she is "above" the laws of society. There are plenty of examples of people who have money but they do not put themselves above everyone else. Those people I respect.
It is no different than the jerks who go out and dig up sacred Indian burial sites throughout America and then sell the historical artifacts they have stolen from our ancestors.
Paris can not be allowed to get ahold of Jim Morrison's 'golden microphone'
Artifacts are things that were actually used by Morrison or The Doors and played a part in the band's touring or song creation. Examples include: a container Morrison kept his heroin in, a hand written draft of 'Celebration of the Lizard', Jim's writing desk, a bottle of his booze.
LIZ SMITH reports on Joe Russo-Paris Hilton!!
PARIS HILTON, whose sense of "history" is what she did
the night before last, turns out to be a big fan of
the late Jim Morrison, charismatic lead singer of The
Doors. Hilton's '60s pop culture crawl has led her to
N.Y.-based Morrison look-alike singer Joe Russo. She's
picking his brain to find out where she can purchase
Morrison artifacts. Hilton has already made
pilgrimages to his gravesite, the fabled Pere-Lachaise
Cemetery. (Oscar Wilde, Sarah Bernhardt, Frederic
Chopin and Gertrude Stein keep Jim company.)
Paris' great desire is to own the gold-plated
microphone Morrison used in various concerts and
during his notorious 1968 Ed Sullivan appearance,
singing "Light My Fire." (Sullivan demanded that Jim
change the lyric "girl we couldn't get much higher."
The rocker said, "Sure." Then he went right ahead and
sang it his way. Sullivan was furious; The Doors
didn't care.)
Comments:
Yeah...I still don't like her. She should at least get a boob job at least she would have something
Sorry! I hate her guts. With all that money she should be helping the folks in need instead of walking around with hair extentions looking for best friends in england.
At the risk of getting my ass kicked in this thread, why can't Paris be a fan like anyone else? What excludes her from being a Doors fan? Why do some of you get to decide who is a Doors fan and who is not? She didn't choose being born into wealth anymore than someone would choose being born into poverty. If she was photographed wearing a Doors t-shirt a few years ago and is obsessively seeking memorabilia today with the help of Joe Russo, a name that is probably known mostly to serious Doors fans, that hardly constitutes a phase. I'm amazed that when it becomes popular to beat up on somebody, the masses just line up. I know virtually nothing about this woman. Neither do any of you. Yet, you all come down on her like she's the second coming of Hitler. Somebody wrote that she has nothing to offer. Perhaps she has something to offer those that are close to her like many of us who are not in the spotlight do. Somebody wrote that it would be blasphemous for her to acquire memorabilia. Why? Is it because she happened to have been born into wealth or that the cameras of the paparazzi are trained on her 24/7? What excludes her from being a Doors fan? Is it because she is perceived as being an airhead? I highly doubt that she is as stupid as her public persona suggests. More than likely it is an act. The public has a perception of her, and she is exploiting that. Paris has more than likely been manipulating the media and, in turn, the public, and she has been successful at it
Paris is just an example of young Hollywood at its worst. She's just one of many. That Lohan chick is another example. Having money is not really the issue here. She "flaunts" her wealth and feels that she is "above" the laws of society. There are plenty of examples of people who have money but they do not put themselves above everyone else. Those people I respect.
It is no different than the jerks who go out and dig up sacred Indian burial sites throughout America and then sell the historical artifacts they have stolen from our ancestors.
Paris can not be allowed to get ahold of Jim Morrison's 'golden microphone'
Artifacts are things that were actually used by Morrison or The Doors and played a part in the band's touring or song creation. Examples include: a container Morrison kept his heroin in, a hand written draft of 'Celebration of the Lizard', Jim's writing desk, a bottle of his booze.
Richard Ashcroft
One of the lines in Judas he says is based around fact. I was in New York City and I always found it intriguing that in the big coffee shop, just on Columbus Circle, just because it was so busy they would always ask your name so they could write it on the cup and I’m always intrigued by the power of any word and specifically names obviously.
There’s not been many Adolf Hitlers born post the Second World War and there’s also not been many Judases, perhaps none. It’s a name that’s been vilified, so when I was in this coffee shop I decided that I was going to order a latte, double shot and she said, ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘Judas,’ because it was packed and I wanted to see the reaction when she said, ‘Latte, double shot for Judas,’ which she did and it does and it causes this like, ‘Who on earth would be called that? You know, and it’s incredible that that word two thousand years later could still have such power and at the end in the chorus of Judas it goes into, all it says is ‘Let it go, let it go,’ because surely that is the message and that’s really the motivation for that song but it’s an example of where, this is reality, this is just a funny social experiment, you know.
$5,000 per American
What is proposed by the change administration is not health care reform. The care is generally fine.
What is needed is Insurance reform.
Insurers are spending 300 million lobbbying Congress not because they care about healthcare. They are protecting their profits, their way of doing business.
Only in the healthcare way of business, unlike online travel, music, books, cars and other evolving industries, is the consumer so distant and removed from selection and price negotiation with the doctor or even the insurer since care and coverage come through the employer. The consumer is left with little if any discounting leverage and thus prices go up in the absence of his ability to reduce demand and hold them down.
Insurers are a single payer system, this is already a "socialistic" system but instead of a bureaucrat at the top you have a profiteer. The insurer recieves all the money, decides with arcane fraud what service it will provide, and then pays the doctor and hospital what it likes. The old communist party had less control and more concern for you then Humana.
They pick and choose who they will cover and can't be sued for their conduct.
Who has really come between americans and their doctor?
Because the new plan is not in writing insurers can scare people with big brother threats from the people who are trying to create and maintain Big Brother.
Obama needs to offer each american insurance for five thousand a year. Pool all the money and hire a bunch more people to run the plan exactly as they have run medicare for thirty years. Most americans know what they will get with medicare and if they don't like it they can go with private coverage.
What is new in the plan, competition. The gravest threat to any business. Real money is made by monopolies.
Insurance premiums would drop below $5,000 ahead of the plan's passage and you would start to wipe out some of the 40% pork you're paying for now with insurance's administrative costs and corporate jets.
No public option leaves no competition.
What is needed is Insurance reform.
Insurers are spending 300 million lobbbying Congress not because they care about healthcare. They are protecting their profits, their way of doing business.
Only in the healthcare way of business, unlike online travel, music, books, cars and other evolving industries, is the consumer so distant and removed from selection and price negotiation with the doctor or even the insurer since care and coverage come through the employer. The consumer is left with little if any discounting leverage and thus prices go up in the absence of his ability to reduce demand and hold them down.
Insurers are a single payer system, this is already a "socialistic" system but instead of a bureaucrat at the top you have a profiteer. The insurer recieves all the money, decides with arcane fraud what service it will provide, and then pays the doctor and hospital what it likes. The old communist party had less control and more concern for you then Humana.
They pick and choose who they will cover and can't be sued for their conduct.
Who has really come between americans and their doctor?
Because the new plan is not in writing insurers can scare people with big brother threats from the people who are trying to create and maintain Big Brother.
Obama needs to offer each american insurance for five thousand a year. Pool all the money and hire a bunch more people to run the plan exactly as they have run medicare for thirty years. Most americans know what they will get with medicare and if they don't like it they can go with private coverage.
What is new in the plan, competition. The gravest threat to any business. Real money is made by monopolies.
Insurance premiums would drop below $5,000 ahead of the plan's passage and you would start to wipe out some of the 40% pork you're paying for now with insurance's administrative costs and corporate jets.
No public option leaves no competition.
Chris' and my hangout before second grade and then for later generations of kids was an A framed church built in the 50’s as a commune like barn. Noone from the neighborhood went there for service and it was empty most times except for two hours on Sunday. As kids we skirmished like mites across every stair and corner, attempting the roof peak which rose three stories and punished with broken arms and bruised faces.
Behind it was a row of run down frame cottages from the 20’s and 30’s, one of which dropped me through its roof, landing me in a bathtub with my foot run through by a nail. We were unsupervised for ten to twelve hours and given no direction from our mothers except to "go outside".
Jumping off three story bridges into marine traffic, skiing narrow canals, running biking and driving to collision with retirees, gigging alligators, lobster trapping in 8 foot seas, roof diving, and skateboarding spiralling ramps at the Burdines often ended with sunset naps aboard ditched riverboats easing into the New River's bottom.
Behind it was a row of run down frame cottages from the 20’s and 30’s, one of which dropped me through its roof, landing me in a bathtub with my foot run through by a nail. We were unsupervised for ten to twelve hours and given no direction from our mothers except to "go outside".
Jumping off three story bridges into marine traffic, skiing narrow canals, running biking and driving to collision with retirees, gigging alligators, lobster trapping in 8 foot seas, roof diving, and skateboarding spiralling ramps at the Burdines often ended with sunset naps aboard ditched riverboats easing into the New River's bottom.
knottings
I am, prone to death over immediate time. I need to guard my arachnoid granulations. My dreams are fish swimming in fast rivers underneath my skull in the dark.
The regions of the brain are named poetically the same as regions of the moon:
Aqeduct of sylvius ;
Foramen of monro;
a mammilary body,
pyramid of medulla
for they are products of a romantic age,
named like islands in the caribbean for their discoverers.
Neural evolution working out design barriers at the line of living neural tissue and non-living construct.
The cerebellum branches look fluffy to the touch like delicate coral
and perhaps they are, in the dark, and not on the bright steel lab counter
pickled in glass morton jars.
___________________________
Controversy of Spheres
_ ________________________________
so who gave you the mic?
sit down, give someone some room
always standing in front
let someone else speak
give someone else silence.
doesn’t always have to be about you
looking at yourself in the mirror
i’m hear too…honey
and will always be here
so you better start sharing more
i can do just as well as you ever did
what will happen
when you open up
can’t be predicted
i’ve at least learned that
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
Many travels since.
Monkey mind, dancing, nodding your head
tapping the branch, smiling at your reflection
Alone but a nut, sunset your friend,
Many trips to go,
Too many days to trip
Im not saying its got to be
Confusion
All my life a calm circus
Course in jeopardy
Laughing baby
Prettiest flower
In my window
Of my moving car
_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
"The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things," wrote Oscar Wilde of absinthe, "But if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see."
The regions of the brain are named poetically the same as regions of the moon:
Aqeduct of sylvius ;
Foramen of monro;
a mammilary body,
pyramid of medulla
for they are products of a romantic age,
named like islands in the caribbean for their discoverers.
Neural evolution working out design barriers at the line of living neural tissue and non-living construct.
The cerebellum branches look fluffy to the touch like delicate coral
and perhaps they are, in the dark, and not on the bright steel lab counter
pickled in glass morton jars.
___________________________
Controversy of Spheres
_ ________________________________
so who gave you the mic?
sit down, give someone some room
always standing in front
let someone else speak
give someone else silence.
doesn’t always have to be about you
looking at yourself in the mirror
i’m hear too…honey
and will always be here
so you better start sharing more
i can do just as well as you ever did
what will happen
when you open up
can’t be predicted
i’ve at least learned that
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
Beard Years
1965- Mid-February 1969: No Beard
Mid-February 1969-September 1969-beard
Mid-September 1969-Early June 1970- No beard
June 1970-March 1971-Beard
March 1971-July 3, 1971 (death)no beard.
___________________________________________________________
Monkey mind, dancing, nodding your head
tapping the branch, smiling at your reflection
Alone but a nut, sunset your friend,
Many trips to go,
Too many days to trip
Im not saying its got to be
Confusion
All my life a calm circus
Course in jeopardy
Laughing baby
Prettiest flower
In my window
Of my moving car
_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
"The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things," wrote Oscar Wilde of absinthe, "But if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see."
Sunday, September 6, 2009
What I imagine happens is that for the self, time begins to flow backwards; even before death, the act of dying is the act of reliving an entire life, and at the end of the dying process, consciousness divides into the consciousness of ones parents and ones children, and then it moves through these modalities, and then divides again. It's moving forward into the future through the people who come after you, and backwards into the past through your ancestors. The further away from the moment of death it is, the faster it moves, so that after a period of time, the Tibetans say 42 days, one is reconnected to everything that ever lived, and the previous ego-pointed existence is defocused, and one is you know, returned to the ocean, the morphogenetic field, or the One of Plotinus, you choose your term. A person is a focused illusion of being, and death occurs when the illusion of being can be sustained no longer. Then everything flows out and away from this disequilibrium state that life is. It is a state of disequilibrium, and it is maintained for decades, but finally, like all disequilibrium states, it must yield to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, and at that point it runs down, its specific character disappears into the general character of the world around it. It has returned then to the void/plenum.
-Terence McKenna
This is pure recreation and zero school time
Settle in a deep flower of yellow petals
and orange pink center.
Trying to find my baby
Rejecting the form
Dribble dribble
Seer blind from the road
No not me
It’s a trip man
Being cool
Outhink your friend
Wait a minute!
Did you say Mongols rapists
Are you awake?
The glass slides away
The lights slip down
Your hopes shattered
But you remember the songs
The verse that changed your path
Let you see a new way
Settle in a deep flower of yellow petals
and orange pink center.
Trying to find my baby
Rejecting the form
Dribble dribble
Seer blind from the road
No not me
It’s a trip man
Being cool
Outhink your friend
Wait a minute!
Did you say Mongols rapists
Are you awake?
The glass slides away
The lights slip down
Your hopes shattered
But you remember the songs
The verse that changed your path
Let you see a new way
Suicide is “a closed world with its own irresistible logic,” wrote the British poet and literary critic A. Alvarez, a failed suicide himself, in “The Savage God.”
“Once a man decides to take his own life,” Mr. Alvarez wrote, “he enters a shut-off, impregnable but wholly convincing world where every detail fits and each incident reinforces his decision.”
Some guy called on the phone, said he knew me and wanted to give me 200 bucks for two days of my driveway.
I of course demanded 400 since that is what I had fairly earned a year ago from the same man. We agreed at 300 as all understood that the economy was slipping with the pilots losing their pensions.
Pilots are just busdrivers in the sky but with caps and hot stewardesses.
“Once a man decides to take his own life,” Mr. Alvarez wrote, “he enters a shut-off, impregnable but wholly convincing world where every detail fits and each incident reinforces his decision.”
Some guy called on the phone, said he knew me and wanted to give me 200 bucks for two days of my driveway.
I of course demanded 400 since that is what I had fairly earned a year ago from the same man. We agreed at 300 as all understood that the economy was slipping with the pilots losing their pensions.
Pilots are just busdrivers in the sky but with caps and hot stewardesses.
The freethinking individual is the greatest tool the universe has come up with to understand itself.
Writing is a time binder. ___________________________________________________________
Beat is important to awareness because it presupposes by its operation, the future and the past, ( beat). It focuses thought into travelling a continuum and allows the listener to play with the melody as your persona travels through the beats. Beat manifests visibly the passage of time with the usual distractions, turnovers or occasionally a grand theme which may overwhelm, subsume or contrast with the melody you're following.
Music has paralleled the development of human thought, making it visible, manageable and available for development.
Home
The first extensive and recorded accounts of the New River Valley in North Carolina were made in December 1752 by the Moravian Bishop Augustus Gottlieb Spangenberg who was searching for a large tract of 100,000 acres on which to establish a Moravian colony. On December 14, 1752, having found his way out of the New River Valley and then encamped at the Lewis Fork of the Yadkin River, he wrote,
This is a fine county for pasture and meadows, from which great numbers of cattle and sheep are raised, which bring much wealth to the farmer. The air is pure and the water is good, if not superior to any on earth. People live long in Ashe County.
The face of the country is clothed with large and lofty timber of black walnut, sugar tree maple, buckeye, hickory, chestnut, and spruce pine. Clover, strawberries and blue grapes are natural to grow everywhere. Cranberries also in great plenty.
As that country has always had plenty of game, the first settlers who lived there for the purpose of hunting, were much opposed by the Indians, in particular by the Shawnees and the Cherokees, until the end of the late war
Another important factor for consideration here is the definite absence of the Georgian style, and the minimal presence of the Federal style which exerted considerable influence on the architectural character of much of the rest of the state. At the same time there is also little evidence of the Greek Revival style which so dominated antebellum building in North Carolina. The architecture of the New River Valley is, therefore, a history of building which occupies one place in the state and the oneness of response to repetitive demands — a remarkable sameness of type, form, shape, material, and ornament. It is a repetition and sameness which is never boring but, because of its unpremeditated functionalism, it appears as natural in the landscape as the very trees and hills of the terrain
The introversion of pioneer mountain life encouraged by the landscape was a deliberate extension of the strong individualism which defined their approach to life.
The hills and river wrapped and, to a considerable degree, isolated the settler and farmer in the alternating states of a vast expansive openness or intimacy. The physical containment reinforced the self sufficiency of the life on the farm on both the emotional and economic levels. The processes of birth, life, and death were all effected within the confines of the family farm. On a significant number of farms small family cemeteries survive containing several generations of a particular family and their married kin. Thus the entire history of the farm and its owners and workers was contained on its grounds and read in its fields, buildings, and cemetery. These cemeteries, generally located on the highest point of ground on the farm, are enclosed by fences of stone, metal or wood; plantings of box bushes, crepe myrtle, cedars, and sometimes lilac are interspersed among the granite, marble, and fieldstone markers
"Here we are at last, after a difficult journey across the mountains. We were completely lost and whichever way we turned we were walled in. Not one of our company had ever been there before and path and trail were unknown — though how can one speak of path or trail where none existed? We crossed only dry mountains and dry valleys and when for several days we followed the river [New River] in the hope that it would lead us out, we found ourselves only deeper in the wilderness, for the river ran now north, now south, now east, now west, in short to all points of the compass!
This is a fine county for pasture and meadows, from which great numbers of cattle and sheep are raised, which bring much wealth to the farmer. The air is pure and the water is good, if not superior to any on earth. People live long in Ashe County.
The face of the country is clothed with large and lofty timber of black walnut, sugar tree maple, buckeye, hickory, chestnut, and spruce pine. Clover, strawberries and blue grapes are natural to grow everywhere. Cranberries also in great plenty.
As that country has always had plenty of game, the first settlers who lived there for the purpose of hunting, were much opposed by the Indians, in particular by the Shawnees and the Cherokees, until the end of the late war
The major factor in the development of the social order here has been the tilling of a small self-contained family farm unit. While the state's economic history in the 18th and early 19th centuries has been written mainly in agricultural terms — excepting naval stores and up to the development of textile mills — it is also true in the New River Valley. In the Coastal Plain and, to a lesser extent, in the Piedmont there were markets available and methods of transportation for getting goods and produce to them. Transportation opportunities diminished as one moved inland from the coast and away from the Tidewater Virginia and South Carolina borders so that in the mountain area agricultural practices developed less along commercial farm lines, than as the means of sustaining the family unit. Thus the size of farms changed slowly and unnoticeably, mainly increasing and decreasing through the division of a family farm or the combination of farmlands as a result of marriage. This factor also encourages the relative evenness of the buildings here. Farms of similar size would and did support families and operations of an approximate size and scale. In consequence the houses and outbuildings themselves are similar in size, material, and design
Another important factor for consideration here is the definite absence of the Georgian style, and the minimal presence of the Federal style which exerted considerable influence on the architectural character of much of the rest of the state. At the same time there is also little evidence of the Greek Revival style which so dominated antebellum building in North Carolina. The architecture of the New River Valley is, therefore, a history of building which occupies one place in the state and the oneness of response to repetitive demands — a remarkable sameness of type, form, shape, material, and ornament. It is a repetition and sameness which is never boring but, because of its unpremeditated functionalism, it appears as natural in the landscape as the very trees and hills of the terrain
The introversion of pioneer mountain life encouraged by the landscape was a deliberate extension of the strong individualism which defined their approach to life.
The hills and river wrapped and, to a considerable degree, isolated the settler and farmer in the alternating states of a vast expansive openness or intimacy. The physical containment reinforced the self sufficiency of the life on the farm on both the emotional and economic levels. The processes of birth, life, and death were all effected within the confines of the family farm. On a significant number of farms small family cemeteries survive containing several generations of a particular family and their married kin. Thus the entire history of the farm and its owners and workers was contained on its grounds and read in its fields, buildings, and cemetery. These cemeteries, generally located on the highest point of ground on the farm, are enclosed by fences of stone, metal or wood; plantings of box bushes, crepe myrtle, cedars, and sometimes lilac are interspersed among the granite, marble, and fieldstone markers
Hommage du Hardy
Hommage du Collage
I have been unable to find out where he was hung, but have an idea that it was down in the southwest part, near Virginia; but I am not positive about this.
In other words,
his story is a story of one of the composite characters that so often arise in the land,—a man of kind heart, very strong, pleasant in his address, yet a gambler, a roué, a drunkard, and a fierce fighter.
"JOHN HARDY."
THE popular song "John Hardy" without doubt had its origin and development in West Virginia. The hero of this modern ballad was a Negro, whose prowess and fame are sung far and wide among his own race, and to a less extent among white folk. No written or printed statements concerning him are known to exist except an order in the courthouse at Welch, McDowell County, W.Va,, for his execution. However, the statements hereinafter given are believed to be thoroughly reliable.
In a letter dated Charleston, W.Va., Feb. 16, 1916, addressed to Dr. H. S. Green of that city, and written by the Hon. W. A. McCorkle, governor of West Virginia from 1893 to 1897, occurs the following:—
"He [John Hardy] was a steel-driver, and was famous in the beginning of the building of the C. & O. Railroad. He was also a steel-driver in the beginning of the extension of the N. & W. Railroad. It was about 1872 that he was in this section. This was before the day of steam-drills; and the drill work was done by two powerful men, who were special steel-drillers, They struck the steel from each side; and as they struck the steel, they sang a song which they improvised as they worked. John Hardy was the most famous steel-driller ever in southern West Virginia. He was a mangificent [sic!] specimen of the genus Homo, was reported to be six feet two, and weighed two hundred and twenty-five or thirty pounds, was straight as an arrow, and was one of the most handsome men in the country, and, as one informant told me, was as 'black as a kittle in hell.'
"Whenever there was any spectacular performance along the lines of drilling, John Hardy was put on the job; and it is said that be could drill more steel than any two men of his day, He was a great gambler, and was notorious all through the country for his luck in gambling. To the dusky sex all through the country, he was the 'greatest ever,' and he was admired and beloved by all the Negro women from the southern West Virginia line to the C. & O. In addition to this, he could drink more whiskey, sit up all night and drive steel all day, to a greater extent than any man ever known in the country.
"John Hardy (colored) killed another Negro over a crap game at Shawnee Camp. This place is. now known as Eckman, W.Va. (the name of the P.O.). The Shawnee Coal Company was and is located there. Hardy was tried and convicted in the July term of the McDowell County Criminal Court, and was hanged near the courthouse on Jan. 19, 1894. While in jail, he composed a song entitled 'John Hardy,' and sung it on the scaffold before the execution.
"Hardy hung in '94 in present courthouse yard, though not such at the time. At time of execution some white man in the crowd started a panic by yelling, 'O Lordy! O Lordy!' Officers had to jail some twenty-five or thirty men before execution could safely be concluded.
Mr. A. C. Payne, English, W.Va., in a letter dated Oct. 16, 1917, writes me as follows:—
"Just received your letter requesting information of a Negro named John Hardy, I was one of the jury that convicted him. He was a miner about 6 feet high and about 25 years old, as well as I could guess at him. He killed a Negro boy about 19 years old. And he was a very black Negro. That is about all I know about him."
John Hardy was a bad, bad man,
He came from a bad, bad land;
He killed two men in a Shawnee camp,
Cause he's too damn nervy for to run,
God damn!
John Hardy went to the rock quarrie,He went there for to drive, Lord, Lord!
The rock was so hard and the steel so soft,
That he laid down his hammer and he cried,
"O my God!"
He laid down his hammer and he
cried
John Hardy was but three days old,
Sitting on his mamma's knee
When he looked straight up at her and said,
The Big Bend Tunnel on the C. & O. Road
Is bound to be the death of me."
John Hardy drew to a four card straight, And the Chinaman drew to a pair, John failed to catch,
and the Chinaman won,
And he left him sitting back dead in his chair,
And he left him lying dead in his chair.
The following statement was made to me in person in the summer of 1918 by Mr. James Knox Smith, a Negro lawyer of Keystone, McDowell County, who was present at the trial and also at the execution of John Hardy:—
"Hardy worked for the Shawnee Coal Company, and one pay-day night he killed a man in a crap game over a dispute of twenty-five cents. Before the game began, he laid his pistol on the table, saying to it,
'Now I want you to lay here; and the first niggeer that steals money from me, I mean to kill him.'
About midnight he began to lose, and claimed that one of the Negroes had taken twenty-five cents of his money. The man denied the charge, but gave him the amount;
whereupon he could look out and see the men buildin his scaffold; and he walked up and down his cell, telling the rest of the prisoners that he would never be hung on that scaffold.
First thoughts
As behavioural and belief systems dry under the stark scrutiny of evolving objectivity, the human forebrain is suffering worrisome realization of the frailty and finality of its condition. Our self-taught fantasy of a holy and unique ability "to think" is being overcome and diminished by the admission that electronic and animal intelligence is not different in type, and at best only in degree from our own. Yet we must compete in this new ephemeral milieu against our old foes, the uncaring cosmos and the new rival--machines. A thin prospect of survival resides in protecting our environs against the loosened aggression of silicon bureaucracy.
The suspect dare to the brain comes within. Culture is a deep smiling inhalation of eau de glamour, of stacked delusions, but comprehension, divinity and the body are pink sheers for hanging flesh breathing to a deadline set for two trapped gooey mayonnaise shots in the cubicle brain, laying on bone, in the dark.
How I cross others.
The great shock to wise tales is not that appearances are decieving, but that we are all the same with no mote of contrast. A protoplasmic smear through a few decades, Scarlett Johansson notwithstanding.
.JPG)
The suspect dare to the brain comes within. Culture is a deep smiling inhalation of eau de glamour, of stacked delusions, but comprehension, divinity and the body are pink sheers for hanging flesh breathing to a deadline set for two trapped gooey mayonnaise shots in the cubicle brain, laying on bone, in the dark.
How I cross others.
The great shock to wise tales is not that appearances are decieving, but that we are all the same with no mote of contrast. A protoplasmic smear through a few decades, Scarlett Johansson notwithstanding.
.JPG)
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