Socius mens mentis:

Evangelos Odysseas Papathanassiou playing delicately. “Le Petite Fille de la mer” from THEMES.

Mr. Uncle recently said: “Hang on, let me get my tongue to do right. My thought is there, but I can't get it to come out!”

“Her eyes are so blue ... like when you look at the earth from space.” [said by Mother, speaking of Bella, Miss Siamese Angel).

Derrida asked: “What comes before the question?” My answer: The thought. And then after the thought, the ‘will’ to ask it. And now I ask: If one questions what comes before the question, what actually comes after the answer? To question anything is to expect an answer, or a response of some kind. Unless, of course, one is merely questioning for the sake of questioning (blank walls). There must be emotional-varieties: knowledge? opinions? ... laughter? &c. As differentiating human beings, there is never one “secure” question or answer (the unexpected) in this regard.

A genuine thesis, like hallways repaired, hugging the shimmer of furblungen light for genuine cacoethes. Windows masticating as romantic visuals like Japanese gardens. The home (a vice) . Windows are romantic visuals. I awake in an olive drab, treating a nurture like ephemeral aethers; our image, truest magma when we wake, sizzle-feeling, truest miagma when awoken, strict doubt and an all too-human propensity. There is silence in everything if you keep your eyes closed.

Unmask yourself, not in what or where your eyes meet, but where your heart speaks. It will descend from the effect like gripping remorse without body language, implicating that this exhibits our visionarial scrutiny and smoothes the progress upon the cascade that drives these alleviations.

FILM IDEAS: a person attempts to focus more on his fears, watches a spider crawl quickly towards his bare foot, clinches face, toes mumble with a peculiar anxiety with a combination of pleasure and pain.

Camera shows the viewer of the back of someone sitting down, half-composed. Maybe: a random scene shot through his glasses as he looks out of his window. The reflection from an unknown object (but an object nontheless) that is received in the camera (from the viewer’s point of view) appears as though someone or something glides quickly (as if flying) across the window from the outside. He nervously-jumps thinking he sees something move. Close (and fast jumps and close-ups and cut-backs) images of his face within a 5-10 second span show his shocking and hesitant external composition.

Once, thought about how to give attention to one second. To be able to share it, to share what no one else can see. In the future we may need to think again, so says the beginning. Today is promised if you are able to complete Time’s questions without having to hesitate to answer.

Aperture, 2008 by Philip Gurrey

Random thoughts: Prophecy, the emptying of a documentful of text, wonderful quotationables , &c. ---

St. John The Baptist Preaching
In The Wilderness
, by Kazuya Akimoto

Excellent quote:

“As I have learned, the Bible has about 10,000 prophecies. Nearly one-third of the Bible is directly or indirectly related to prophecy. This endeavour led me into far more research than I could have suspected. One thing needed, was to determine when the Bible was actually written. Because of this, a study of biblical history and archaeology was necessary. I found the Old Testament was indeed written before the coming of Jesus, as the Dead Sea Scrolls (containing parts of the book of Isaiah) were proven to have been written before Jesus came. The book of Isaiah includes forecasts of Jesus. Thousands of clay tablets have also been found, which confirm many accounts in the Bible. Later, there were people who would show me what appeared to be contradictions in the Bible, yet these were not contradictions at all, but only a lack of research on the part of those that said these things.”

The Bible states that the Anti-Christ will come out of the region of Europe (perhaps Rome or in this area), and that he will make a covenant with Israel (Fake Israel-Palestinian ‘peace’ treaty) and break it, that he will re-build The Temple Mount (Plans are already been reviewed), that he will be gay (bisexual?) (Daniel 11:37), and that he will be satan incarnate.

“There have been hundreds of books written on the subject of the evidences of the divine inspiration of the Bible, and these evidences are many and varied. Most people today, unfortunately, have not read any of these books. In fact, few have even read the Bible itself! Thus, many people tend to go along with the popular delusion that the Bible is full of mistakes and is no longer relevant to our modern world. Nevertheless the Bible writers claimed repeatedly that they were transmitting the very Word of God, infallible and authoritative in the highest degree. This is an amazing thing for any writer to say, and if the forty or so men who wrote the Scriptures were wrong in these claims, then they must have been lying, or insane, or both. But, on the other hand, if the greatest and most influential book of the ages, containing the most beautiful literature and the most perfect moral code ever devised, was written by deceiving fanatics, then what hope is there for ever finding meaning and purpose in this world? If one will seriously investigate these Biblical evidences, he will find that their claims of divine inspiration (stated over 3,000 times, in various ways) were amply justified. The remarkable evidence of fulfilled prophecy is just one case in point. Hundreds of Bible prophecies have been fulfilled, specifically and meticulously, often long after the prophetic writer had passed away.

For example, Daniel the prophet predicted in about 538 BC (Daniel 9:24-27) that Christ would come as Israel’s promised Savior and Prince 483 years after the Persian emperor would give the Jews authority to rebuild Jerusalem, which was then in ruins. This was clearly and definitely fulfilled, hundreds of years later.”

“There are extensive prophecies dealing with individual nations and cities and with the course of history in general, all of which have been literally fulfilled. More than 300 prophecies were fulfilled by Christ Himself at His first coming. Other prophecies deal with the spread of Christianity, as well as various false religions, and many other subjects. There is no other book, ancient or modern, like this. The vague, and usually erroneous, prophecies of people like Jeanne Dixon, Nostradamus, Edgar Cayce, and others like them are not in the same category at all, and neither are other religious books such as the Koran, the Confucian Analects, and similar religious writings. Only the Bible manifests this remarkable prophetic evidence, and it does so on such a tremendous scale as to render completely absurd any explanation other than divine revelation. The historical accuracy of the Scriptures is likewise in a class by itself, far superior to the written records of Egypt, Assyria, and other early nations. Archeological confirmations of the Biblical record have been almost innumerable in the last century. Dr. Nelson Glueck, probably the greatest modern authority on Israeli archeology, has said:

‘No archeological discovery has ever controverted a Biblical reference. Scores of archeological findings have been made which confirm in clear outline or in exact detail historical statements in the Bible. And, by the same token, proper evaluation of Biblical descriptions has often led to amazing discoveries.’”

“Another striking evidence of divine inspiration is found in the fact that many of the principles of modern science were recorded as facts of nature in the Bible long before scientist confirmed them experimentally. A sampling of these would include:

* Roundness of the earth (Isaiah 40:22)
* Almost infinite extent of the sidereal universe (Isaiah 55:9)
* Law of conservation of mass and energy (II Peter 3:7)
* Hydrologic cycle (Ecclesiastes 1:7)
* Vast number of stars (Jeremiah 33:22)
* Law of increasing entropy (Psalm 102:25-27)
* Paramount importance of blood in life processes (Leviticus 17:11)
* Atmospheric circulation (Ecclesiastes 1:6)
* Gravitational field (Job 26:7)
* and many others.”

(this being, of course, many, many years before scientists began “experimenting” with theory, &c.) — “The purpose of education today is man's welfare; the purpose of science is man's pleasure; the goal of entertainment is the good life for man. Hedonism says it all. The world is crowded with Antichrists presently.” — ‘Some of the greatest minds in history were “self-taught” men and women’ which explains my own “education,” I suppose. It just takes an open-mind!

God is also has a great sense of humor. Once, Mother Teresa was telling a story (an example of God’s excellent sense of humor) about how she needed the money to fix this HUGE hole in the ground so that she could (I believe) build something in that particular spot (for her organization, or something such as this), and she prayed to God to send her/them the money to have it fixed, because they would have never had enough. So, she prayed to God, and of course, God always answers prayers. So, the next day (or a couple days later — wasn’t long afterwards) a man came walking along this path where the hole was located (obviously an angel) and he stopped, looked at the hole and said: “Ah! Looks like you’ve got a hole here, don’t ya?!” (said in a funny way, of course). Come to find out, this man (angel) came up with the money to get the hole filled.

That said, another excellent quote [written sometime in 2007]: “We are living in a time where prophecy is being fulfilled every day. 9-11 was prophecy. It was the first thunder of the sixth seal of revelation which started the “labor pains” of revelation. Natural disasters, war, pestilence, famine, and many other things of revelation are being fulfilled as “labor pains” right now. Only when the 7th seal is opened will the labor pains turn to birth pains. The final 3 1/2 years is going to be here soon. Start counting months, or weeks. Not years anymore. World War 3 is upon us. Just wait ‘til the great world stock market crash and the fight for oil against Iran. America is doomed and don’t think we’ll get a new president. (...) wars on terror have created a domino effect in the way other nations see us. Instead of leading the fight for democracy by example through our own prosperity, we are leading by preemptive war which is what the dictators and communists did to spread their way of governing. The death of Saddam Hussein was predicted in the bible as the “King of New Babylon.” The first seal of revelation was opened on Dec. 17, 1994 and the sixth seal was opened on Sept. 11, 2001. Once the 7 thunders of the sixth seal are completed, the seventh seal will be opened which will trigger the final 1260 days of man’s reign on earth.”

Notice that this was written in 2007, and notice that he said “just wait ‘til the great world stock market crash” (which, at THAT time [2007] hadn’t happened yet, but was predicted in the bible would occur), and of course, it came to pass.

Found this excellent too:

“It’s that it’s maddening to spend hours or even days and weeks (yes that is literally how long it will take to explain it all) only to hear things like ‘It doesn’t matter because the Bible is fake’ or ‘It’s all just self fulfilled.’ I know you didn’t do that but those are the two most common objections. The thing is, most students of Bible prophecy have been studying this for 30, 40, 50 years. I myself have been studying it for 5 years and know enough that it would take me a couple of weeks to type out. — The European Union, Israel as a Nation, the Islamic coalition, etc., are all precise Biblical predictions mentioned for the end times. Not only that, but there was a specific way for them to be fulfilled – not the fact that they would simply exist. Then there are about 100 prophecies that have been fulfilled during the last century that no other generation has ever witnessed in the history of man. This isn’t even considering the prophecies fulfilled in antiquity. So, you can see it is an exhausting process to type it all out only to hear things like ‘It was self fulfilled.’ — ** In order for it to be self fulfilled, we would have to assume Europeans, the Jews, Muslims, international associations, inventors (due to the prophecies regarding technology), and even society (due to the prophecies regarding society) were all in cahoots with each other to make it happen. And let’s be honest, can you really get the Jews, Muslims, and Christians to agree on anything? No! (...) They all have their own end time prophecies that differ greatly so it makes no sense that these people (not to mention regular citizens, scientists, and inventors) have all been a part of the conspiracy. — There is a book called Every Prophecy of the Bible that collects, dissects, and explains over 1,000 Bible prophecies fulfilled past, present, and future. It uses plain English and breaks everything down into very easily understood terms. Here are a few:

A). Israel would be reborn in one day (this happened).

B). The Jew would slowly trickle in (this happened).

C). Israel would immediately be surrounded by enemies (this happened).

D). The precise names of the countries who would be Israel’s enemies were given by name (this coalition now exists).

E). Israel would regain Jerusalem (this happened).

F). There would be no king (this happened- and a prophecy stating a country without a king was preposterous in the age of monarchies when this prophecy was given).

G). The land would blossom (since its occupation the desert has become a type of oasis in the ME).

H). There would be attempts to divide the land (this is currently happening with the Palestine issue).”

Rembrant Harmensz. van Rijn (Holland, Leiden, 1606-1669)
The Raising of Lazarus (1630)


The eyes and ears of necessive capacities:

Robert Flynt, Smother (2004)

I keep both hands in front of my face carefully observing the placement of fingers. I do not move them, and for a moment I wondered what could I be doing. No movement, not to think of a crowded street. Confections of indigo; clothing stores on the street of the slope, does not dare to move. I will say that it is also true that during occasions of despair, I rest balancing to never repeat, lying on a sidewalk, between alleyways, observing how people were standing—the way one walks and circumvents their haste carrying them throughout weekdays. Oscar Wilde’s “Art never expresses anything but itself.” Imagine if it were nutritional, like how a sneeze can “move” us. Our heads, anyhow. Anyhow, I love the four “i’s” in the word “minimalistically.” The word itself looks like a textual-train moving west. Whenever I travel west, even if taking a walk down the road, in my own neighborhood, I will make certain that I travel minimalistically. I will go east the same way; “y l l a c i t s i l a m i n i m.”

Whenever I sneeze, Lola-pop the lovely feline always rushes to me, mewing, mewing, mewing, as if she were checking on me. Whenever I walk up to her, whether purposely or if I am heading toward her direction to by-pass her, she nods her head, mewing, expecting a piece of lint from my pocket or a small, rolled-up piece of paper. Thought: ice pick where it slips, drips at the tips, and when I pick up a pen with fingertips, it melts and ink drips. Listening to Klaus Schulze’s “Bayreuth Return.” Wow’d. Has this piece ever been played by Steven Hill on “Hearts of Space”? — Inadvertently touched organs, // we are blessed // with ears, // fingers that brush // sound. Loud will typically win // like children quarreling. Sometime in late 2008, Grandmother said: “Well, I’m going to miss makin’ coffee for you every evening.” Evening is often “eren,” even so, the lemon meringue pie was as sweet as ever, as was the kitchen-windows where light produced angels that ate my angel food, but did not lay a halo on the cookie dough until they were warm. Hand through the fridge, so hungry, so hungry that even a beer commercial was starving the television-set-outta-me, but Benjamin Franklin had it right!: one has to learn to eat to live versus living to eat. I remember the bruise on Auntie L’s left arm, seemingly more “alive” and dramatic in color when she sat on the front porch. Grape-colored darkness approached (storm-clouds in the distance) as in-depth as Belafonte-flesh. Marsalis-y moody evenings that were capable of moving mountains into me.

(France 1928, dir: Jean Epstein)


Posts becoming more like thought-patterns these days:

William Dyce, Omnia Vanitas (1848)

It’s all about “being comfortable” is it not? Thunderstorm watches are always like some ‘leafy bay’, ‘rushes’, baby birds and Mayflies, ‘pure diversion’ and early William Carlos Williams poems intertwined in them, southward. I could “cry wolf” right here. Tonsils, unreluctant to ‘let go’ of the sound? I love to observe flowers. Lately, I have been mesmerized by the purple wisteria blossoms dangling from a trellis. Observations are often collaborative, like screenings, exhibitions, spaces to run to and back from and anatomical pathology has also been on my mind as well. Oedema, hyperinflation, haemorrhage, mental deficiencies, (poison arrows of ... ) — anyhow — red bubbles, red balloons, acrylic things, calenders, poetry, photography, animals, animals, animals, “flowers are the poetry of reproduction” — yellow will always pop well against green — I have eight new ideas, none of them will start a revolution, but perhaps so during the darkest hours of night? New seasons, fish spawning in spring, worms emerging (oh the wrinkliness) — what happens to the speaker of the poem? What happens to all of the glowing things? — life and death combined into “one” — After all, I didn’t want her to think of some bacteria-laden entity — I remember Nina in 1998 saying to me: “My Mama isn’t motivated by malice or profit.”

Lola Alvarez Bravo, Frida Kahlo and her Itzcuintli dogs (1944)


Miwa Yanagi

More Here and Here.

Observations, Randomisms:

Colette Calasciones, Dream of the Hungry Ghost

The older we become, the words “girl” and “boy” are often used as jokes or as greetings between adults. At what point do these words suffer? At what point, amidst being a teenager and becoming an “adult,” do these words disappear? Certain individuals use the words to degrade others. As I have also noticed, the words can be used negatively towards someone (usually the “male”) in a hostile environment. Often times, too, the word is used by an elderly man towards a young man (ie: 70 year-old versus 20 year-old) in regards to his ‘working status’ or whether the young man is ‘on his own.’ Then again, there are some elderly men who fancy the term “boy” towards anyone whom is younger than he (usually 20+ years younger as I have studied). I believe that “ageist language” can be used in a reversal-mode for the young versus that which is solely used towards the elderly. Youthist language, perhaps?

Some people would rather have individual anatomy rather than individual autonomy.

Recently, I’ve been studying morbid anatomy. Baroque Polonaise-esque Neck (possible title). The study of The Positioning of the Sternocleidomastoid, Part 1. (Another possible title).

Klaus Kinski (playfully) threatening Herzog
with a sword during the making of Cobra Verde.


Ponderances, Thoughts:

Jean Cocteau

I could be a Huxtable. I could be delusional, like someone that thought that John Wayne was the “greatest white male” that “saved the world.”

How’s that for delusion? Illusion. Conclusion. Quoting a text, particularly several words or sentences at a time, tends to hold a kind of

comfort inside of me. Quotes, like two claws, like some kind of security-blanket, putting more emphasis on the text in-between. A ‘guardian,’

perhaps, lighting up the phrase like hands holding candelabras at the entrance hallway of a castle (ala Cocteau’s Beauty and The Beast).

The ‘unquote’ is not, and never will be, a dead end. I would like to suggest sentences in Ghost-bustering references to the pack of fools

that become hen-pecked by guilt after taking a road trip vacation with one’s parents and “calling out” their countless mistakes to them afterwards

in ways that would’ve made one wonder if it were practiced before-hand. “Dad, this path you lead makes me feel awkward,

and it surprises me that it doesn’t make you feel awkward too. Your repetitive insight and complaints about gold-hoop earrings

that Mom wears makes me feel annoyed, like a swimmer’s ear infection.” “Mom, why does your lipstick have to look hooker-glaucus?

If you whisper throatily to another stranger again, I am going to absolutely scream. By the way, tea and muffins don’t really go that well together, do they?”

I stood looking out of the dining-room window, Doritos in hand, counted thirteen trees while the neighbor’s actions appeared to be

‘possibly violent’ against the dog that was frolicking in the yard. Just as anger can blow out the lamp of the mind, so can heavy drinking.

Nature, today, as green as “original” Palmolive. Liquidambar styraciflua blooms, reminds me of cauliflower, falls heavily to the ground.

I never see them fall, but witness them in many locations. A small white Hentzia palmarum jumps upon a bloom that has fallen

on the back of my car. I watch as it watches me. I sneeze three times. I had a dream last night that I found a tiny turtle.

It was only about a half of a pinky’s size. I remember seeing its eyes open and close, very weakly. It was lethargic-acting, but I

tried not to worry, thinking that perhaps it had just been born, and this is how all turtle’s act when they are born. I kept thinking about

what to do with it. I thought of water, a tank to put it in and food to feed it. I heard someone around me, although unseen, say: “...they also eat mashed potatoes.”

Making Model Embryos

Daido Moriyama

More Here and Here.


Ran-dom "thaw"ts:

Poprishchin (protagonist of the novel by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol
“Diary of a Madman” by Ilya Yefimovich Repin)

“Words are ‘things’, too, but that’s another dimension.” (C. Faville)

A mother tames us, not with her psychic private-eye (although that is ‘in’ for mothers of the 21st c.) but instead with her indigo—transforming this filthy world into another—not taming my language when I say a “big word” unintentionally because had I just read an Anthony Burgess novel and my brain’s tongue isn’t quite on-cue, but perhaps laughing when I say that I can say “California” much easier than I can say “Schwarzenegger.” Not really. A father often excels differently: his eyes fleeing to avoid all eyes, will question his knowledge, will squat in his office or in his shop, saying, “Let’s have a little music,” when, in turn, translates to: “To lose blood slowly, and why am I afraid of the truth?” This is what I know, what I’ve learned. My mother has bailed me out of these questioning-loopholes. I see everything differently. Those same parks, the same factory-smoke in my face, all renewed with a die-for-you love; the way events can make you or break you, the way love can arrange a life for you in any place.

Where does the Peak go when it increases through the axis of the tongue composed primarily of natural resources unknown to the ‘role’ of speech that is broken but gluable? Is every poem a bio-degradable solvent that enhances the image that we sculpt? Simplicity is timeless. Difficulty is the excuse. Warped like a war. Bombs, decisive consequence (a love for hatred). A war is a flower given to a child; it’s thorns ripped off secretly, then planted into the child’s back when turning around to show it off. A worldwide defunct, like the unpleasant fragrances of silence. Quiet isn’t the message, but the sound is broken. My spine, the “Willans Line,” on this cold night. What could firmly bring me to this unquieted calm? There are no accidents. The toxic-waste transforms the sweetest aromas into the scents of the dead, of limbless trees, the unwilling Flap against Complex animals versus Indirect animals—Indirect individuals versus The Terrestrial Body of being bodiless. Alternating the absolute engine of necessity. Embodying all dynamically-materialized pulses in Maps that are pouring out of the face. Behavior is Unintentional for the most part. Subtracting a representation—dramatic articulations slipping through the ears like an arrow through fruit contrasted through silhouette; the chance that it could be associated with my heart is possible. Possibility is richer than reality. An applause. Illusions determined by the distance between the difficulty of what is sown is like the painted still-lives of plant-life that will never grow—that will never crisply-wither & die.

Captain Beefheart, the first to coin “Korn” in the musical titled atmosphere? (“Kandy Korn”) ...The rarity of originality always clucks like a chicken. Hm, I wonder if Mr. Davis (or, from the same clique (‘cluck’)) is a Captain Beefheart fan? And, if so, would he ever admit it?

Unclenched thirst, quenched, winced out of sour milk, unexpected expiration. The problem with poets is poems. Music from the computer, Le Mépris, makes me want to visit France. A brown thrasher peeks in the window, expecting decorations for its nest, my movement instills fright. I watch it fly away to the next tree where the processed-vocals of the music synchronizes with the swaying of the tree’s limbs, branches, dancing as if promising a tomorrow.

Slack is busted by jean-wearers. Columbus wrote to Diego’s son: “I would like to receive a letter from you each hour. Reason must tell you that I now have no other repose. Many couriers come each day, and the news is of such a nature and so abundant that in hearing it, all my hair stands on end, it is so contrary to what my soul desires.”My hair stands on ends and beginnings.

Artificial hills may expire, summer sweat perspire, repeated patterns never tire, repeated patterns never tire. Doggerelish rhymes in these Times are no surprise.

Last summer: The old man up the street who is always smoking a pipe, who says “my ol’ friendly dog” as if he wish the dog were something other than friendly, who would rather it never rain because he hates to mow the lawn, saw me walking up to him. He stopped, I stopped. We began talking. His dog began barking at me, came close to my leg. He pulled the dog away from my leg, cursing. I asked him how he was doing. “Not worth a flip. It’s hot out here.” I laughed, fakingly. He carried on, “Ninety-three today, you know?” I agreed (nodding), started walking. He said, “I just told the woman up the road how hot it must be in Vietnam right now. One-hundred and fifteen I’d betcha with the humidity and all.” I walked further down the road. He walked up his driveway. “Have you always lived here?” I asked, pointing at his house. “Ehh, about three years,” he said annoyingly. As we parted, I followed with a "take it easy"—He said nothing in response, just mumbling about the heat, the grass, how he had just mowed it three days ago, before it had rained, unable to believe the length the grass had already gotten.

Tonight, I feel like a poet. Tomorrow, I am not so sure. If yesterday was, at this time, Now, then the poet in me would be like a head hanging lowly. I’d divide, like violence, a silence to spread across a blank face. In my head, I am whatever I want to be. My outlook appears to be shortening. Shortening bread, remembering the song sung as a child in chorus with other children, feeling grey for the most, acting out the part just to get by. It sounded like shortnen, shortnen. I could relate to the Mama part. I went home one evening, in my mind, before the bell, as I sat in class imagining the song, thinking of fresh chess pie cut perfectly by my second mother’s skin-thinning hands, of which I never noticed until I became older. I snapped out of it, almost getting slapped by my “friend girl” with strawberry-blond hair, yelling at me, “Come on, come on!” Rubbed my eyes for an x-amount of seconds before getting my right shoulder nearly snatched out of the socket.

One afternoon, in 1998, Robert poured sour milk on Nina’s Mother’s head who was sleeping comfortably on a dusty couch next to an opened window in the living room. Later in the week, while visiting Nina, he poured their sour milk into the sink and urinated inside of the carton and he giggled and snickered to make Nina suspicious, but she was always accustomed to his antics, and she didn’t particularly like her Mother, so she was always quite thrilled about his heedless headless activities. I was always suspicious that Nina and Robert were a couple, because they were always flirting with one another, and she would never hesitate to entertain him with her flatulence. I was always suspicious, until one day Robert took a leak on Nina’s head and called her a slut repeatedly. I meant to ask him if he knew what a toilet was, but I never did, because I wanted to keep my head as clean as possible.

If the soul is a reflection of man, I consider everything edible.

Botanical print of Nepenthes Rajah, a type of pitcher plant
with a strange-looking purple and pink flower. (1901)