rich coast

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.

 

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

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.

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

Most Important cinema in New Decade

Turn on to You

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lI89ovR36r0

May be the best movie in 30 years.

the internet is not free

http://www.ban.org/

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