v. vale on nurturing a "glowing orb of curiosity" (this term is from 'the now' by lucy sante -- an amazing read and this line just GETS me):
Research Sv. vale on nurturing a "glowing orb of curiosity" (this term is from 'the now' by lucy sante -- an amazing read and this line just GETS me):
Research SURREALISM and its precursors. Research the history of BLACK HUMOR. Research the history of PUNK and its precursors. Also keep in mind Bucky Fuller’s statement “I’m interested in the future, because I’m going to spend the rest of my life there” so be open to new ideas, language, thoughts, worlds.
Also, ALLOW CHANCE INTO YOUR LIFE. Protect yourself, of course, but … life is very tricky and very mysterious. Don’t rely on logic, which is essentially superficial and non-inclusive. Heed your first intuition! (regarding people, projects, ideas, etc). And try to keep learning NEW WORDS! Having a cat around can help keep the prison of logic at bay! And remember, AESTHETICS DETERMINES CONSUMPTION. But, what are your “aesthetics”?!? Most people don’t even know!!!
A pen and notebook can be your best friend… having ’em scattered all around your house, because epiphanies and insights just ‘show up’ at the most inconvenient times and places. If you don’t write it down immediately, you will forget it. The more notebooks you fill up, the more you become ‘yourself’!!! Not just words, but drawings, images… a blank notebook offers infinite possibilities!...more
was cleaning out my dad's apartment and this book was in his collection along w/ a bunch of coil/death in june cd's wow wow wowwww. crying. i stopped was cleaning out my dad's apartment and this book was in his collection along w/ a bunch of coil/death in june cd's wow wow wowwww. crying. i stopped everything i was doing to read this in its entirety, horse rotorvator playing in the background :))...more
If you are the tower of night I am the spike burning in your mind If you are the water's mouth I am the mouth of moss If you are the forest of the clouds IIf you are the tower of night I am the spike burning in your mind If you are the water's mouth I am the mouth of moss If you are the forest of the clouds I am the axe that parts it If you are the profaned city I am the rain of consecration...more
The absent and inert girl hanging dreamless from my arms is no more foreign to me than the door or window through which I can look or pass <3
PolymorphThe absent and inert girl hanging dreamless from my arms is no more foreign to me than the door or window through which I can look or pass <3
Polymorphous coitus = Uniform terrestrial rotation: Beings only die to be born in the manner of phalluses that leave bodies in order to enter them. Plants rise in the direction of the sun and then collapse in the direction of the ground. Trees bristle the ground with a vast quantity of flowered shafts raised up to the sun.
The sea continuously jerks off. Solid elements, contained and brewed in water animated by erotic movements, shoot out in the form of flying fish
An abandoned shoe, a rotten tooth, a snub nose, the cook spitting in the soup of his masters are to love what a battle flag is to nationality. An umbrella, a sexagenarian, a seminarian, the smell of rotten eggs, the hollow eyes of judges are the roots that nourish love. A dog devouring the stomach of a goose, a drunken vomiting woman, a sobbing accountant, a jar of mustard represent the confusion that serves as the vehicle of love
A man who finds himself among others is irritated because he does not know why he is not one of the others. In bed next to a girl he loves, he forgets that he does not know why he is himself instead of the body he touches. Without knowing it, he suffers from the mental darkness that keeps him from screaming that he himself is the girl who forgets his presence while shuddering in his arms.
Love, or infantile rage, or a provincial dowager's vanity, or clerical pornography, or the diamond of a soprano bewilder individuals forgotten in dusty apartments. They can very well try to find each other; they will never find anything but parodic images, and they will fall asleep as empty as mirrors.
I just know that Bataille would love the song 'Map Ref. 41°N 93°W' by Wire
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