Polemic on Pleasure as Subversion

Subversion is pleasurable. It involves in its essence a turning or coiling of experience. Each text should be subverted, which leads quickly to a double bind: how do we subvert this text? How might we subvert subversion? A bad infinity quickly ensues: a hall of mirrors of subversions of subversions of versions.

Verso and Recto: there is subversion and there is rectification, setting things to right, to the regulus or to the rule. And here we get to the ruler.

But our duty to the universe is to subvert any consensus/conception of it. There is the Concept (Be-griff) and there is the “Immaculate Conception”


(“The Groom is Still Waiting at the Altar”: Church of the Immaculate Concept(ion) in Mazatlan)


(Detailed City Map locating the "Church of the Immaculate Conception"
at the city of Spisská Nová Ves in Slovakia)(Web link as follows: http://www.ellen.sk/english/mapy.html )(The Church of the Immaculate Conception is listed on the outer labia as detail #5)

In The Use of Pleasure Foucault delineates the issues of sexual morality and fidelity. The rule or rectitude is set: the subtle use of discipline or asceticism to maintain one’s ethical composure under the laws of marriage.

Vitriol: Visita interiora terrae rectificando invenes occultum lapidem

Rosenkreuz's crypt, according to the description presented in the legend, seems to be located in the interior parts of the Earth, recalling the alchemical motto VITRIOL: "Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem ("Visit the Interior Parts of the Earth; by Rectification Thou Shalt Find the Hidden Stone.")



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_Rosenkreuz
'Well of Initiation', into the interior of the earth; picture shows also the Rose of the Winds over the Templar Cross, the Rose Cross, in "Quinta da Regaleira", Sintra, Portugal (1892-1910)

If there is subversion then there is rectification. What is rectification? -We ...rectify (Indo-European roots: dhe- and reg-1):

ENTRY: dh-
DEFINITION: To set, put. Contracted from *dhe1-.
Derivatives include deed, doom, fashion, defeat, feckless, sacrifice, satisfy, face, and synthesis.
I. Basic form *dh-. 1. Suffixed form *dh-ti-, “thing laid down or done, law, deed.” deed; indeed, from Old English dd, doing, deed, from Germanic *ddiz. 2. Suffixed form *dh-k-. theca, tick3; amphithecium, apothecary, apothecium, bibliotheca, bodega, boutique, cleistothecium, endothecium, perithecium, from Greek thk, receptacle. 3. Basic form *dh-. bard2, purdah, from Old Persian d-, to place. 4. Suffixed form *dh-to-, set down, created, in Old Iranian compound *khvat-dta- (see s(w)e-).
II. O-grade form *dh-. 1. do1; fordo, from Old English dn, to do, from Germanic *dn. 2. Suffixed o-grade form *dh-men-. abdomen, from Latin abdmen, belly, abdomen, perhaps “part placed away, concealed part” (ab-, away; see apo). 3. Suffixed o-grade form *dh-mo-. a. doom, from Old English dm, judgment (< “thing set or put down”); b. –dom, from Old English -dm, abstract suffix indicating state, condition, or power; c. Old Norse -dmr, condition, in compound hrdmr (see k-); d. Duma, dumka, from Russian Duma, Duma, from a Germanic source akin to Gothic dms, judgment; e. deem, from Old English dman, to judge, from Germanic denominative dmjan. a–e all from Germanic dmaz. 4. Suffixed o-grade form *dh-t- in compound *sakro-dht- (see sak-).
III. Zero-grade form *dh-. 1a. Prefixed form *kom-dh-. abscond, incondite, recondite, sconce2, from Latin condere, to put together, establish, preserve (*kom, together; see kom); b. prefixed and suffixed form *kom-dh()-yo-. condiment, salmagundi, from Latin condre, to season, flavor; c. compound *kred-dh- (see kerd-); d. compound suffixed form *gw-dh()-o- (see gwer-2). 2. Suffixed zero-grade form dh-k-. a. –facient, fact, faction1, –faction, factitious, factitive, factor, factory, faena, fashion, feasible, feat1, feature, fetish, –fic, –fy, hacienda; affair, affect1, affect2, affection, amplify, artifact, artifice, beatific, benefaction, benefic, benefice, beneficence, benefit, chafe, comfit, confect, confetti, counterfeit, defeasance, defeat, defect, deficient, discomfit, edifice, edify, effect, efficacious, efficient, facsimile, factotum, feckless, forfeit, infect, justify, malefactor, malfeasance, manufacture, misfeasance, modify, mollify, nidify, notify, nullify, officinal, orifice, perfect, petrify, pluperfect, pontifex, prefect, proficient, profit, putrefy, qualify, rarefy, rectify, refect, refectory, rubefacient, sacrifice, satisfy, spinifex, suffice, sufficient, surfeit, tubifex, tumefacient, vivify, from Latin facere (< *fak-yo-), to do, make, and Latin combining form -fex (< *-fak-s), “maker”; b. façade, face, facet, facial, facies; deface, efface, surface, from Latin derivative facis, shape, face (< “form imposed on something”); c. office, from Latin compound officium (< *opi-fici-om), service, duty, business, performance of work (*opi-, work; see op-); d. further suffixed form *dh-k-li-. facile, facilitate, faculty, difficulty, from Latin facilis (< Archaic Latin facul), feasible, easy. 3. Suffixed zero-grade form *dh-s- (probably identical with zero-grade of dhs-). nefarious, from Latin fs, divine law, right. 4. multifarious, omnifarious, from Latin -friam, adverbial suffix, as in bifriam, in two places, parts, double, from *dwi-dh()-, “making two” (*dwi-, two; see dwo-). 5. Reduplicated form *dhi-dh-. thesis, thetic; anathema, antithesis, diathesis, epenthesis, epithet, hypothecate, hypothesis, metathesis, parenthesis, prosthesis, prothesis, synthesis, from Greek tithenai, to put, with zero-grade noun thesis (*dh-ti-), a placing, and verbal adjective thetos (*dh-to-), placed. 6. Suffixed zero-grade form *dh-m. thematic, theme, from Greek thema, “thing placed,” proposition. 7. Reduplicated form *dhe-dh-. samhita, sandhi, from Sanskrit dadhti, he places (past participle -hita-, from suffixed zero-grade *dh-to-). 8. Reduced form *dh- in compound *au-dh- (see au-). (Pokorny 2. dh- 235.)

ENTRY: reg-
DEFINITION: To move in a straight line, with derivatives meaning “to direct in a straight line, lead, rule.” Oldest form *3re-, becoming *3reg- in centum languages.
Derivatives include right, realm, anorexia, rich, rule, interrogate, and reckless.
I. Basic form *reg-. 1. Suffixed form *reg-to-. right, from Old English riht, right, just, correct, straight, from Germanic *rehtaz. 2. realm, rectitude, recto, rector, rectum, rectus, regent, regime, regimen, regiment, region; address, adroit, alert, correct, direct, erect, incorrigible, porrect, rectangle, rectify, rectilinear, resurge, Risorgimento, sord, source, surge, from Latin regere, to lead straight, guide, rule (past participle rctus, hence adjective rctus, right, straight). 3. anorectic, anorexia, from Greek oregein, to stretch out, reach out for (with o- from oldest root form *3re-).
II. Lengthened-grade form *rg-, Indo-European word for a tribal king. 1a. bishopric, eldritch, from Old English rce, realm; b. Riksmål, from Old Norse rki, realm; c. Reich; Reichsmark, from Old High German rchi, realm; d. rich, from Old English rce, strong, powerful, and Old French riche, wealthy. a–d all from Germanic *rkja-, from Celtic suffixed form *rg-yo-. 2. real2, regal, regulus, reign, rial1, riyal, royal; regicide, regius professor, vicereine, viceroy, from Latin rx, king (royal and priestly title). 3. Suffixed form *rg-en-. raj, rajah, rani, rye2; maharajah, maharani, from Sanskrit rj, rjan-, king, rajah (feminine rjñ, queen, rani), and rjati, he rules.
III. Suffixed lengthened-grade form *rg-ol-. rail1, reglet, regular, regulate, rule, from Latin rgula, straight piece of wood, rod.
IV. O-grade form *rog-. 1. rake1, from Old English raca, racu, rake (implement with straight pieces of wood), from Germanic *rak. 2. rack1, from Middle Dutch rec, framework, from Germanic *rak-. 3. Possibly Germanic *rankaz (with nasal infix). rank2, from Old English ranc, straight, strong, hence haughty, overbearing. 4. reckon, from Old English gerecenian, to arrange in order, recount (ge-, collective prefix; see kom), from Germanic *rakinaz, ready, straightforward. 5. Suffixed form *rog--. rogation, rogatory; abrogate, arrogate, corvée, derogate, interrogate, prerogative, prorogue, subrogate, supererogate, from Latin rogre, to ask (< “stretch out the hand”). 6. Suffixed form *rog-o-. ergo, from Latin erg, therefore, in consequence of, perhaps contracted from a Latin phrase * rog, “from the direction of” ( < ex, out of; see eghs), from a possible Latin noun *rogus, “extension, direction.”
V. Lengthened o-grade form *rg-. 1. reck, from Old English rec(c)an, to pay attention to, take care (formally influenced by Old English reccan, to extend, stretch out, from Germanic *rakjan), from Germanic *rkjan. 2. reckless, from Old English rcelas, careless (-las, lacking; see leu-), from Germanic rkja-.
VI. Suffixed zero-grade form *g-yo-. raita, from Sanskrit jyati, he stretches out. (Pokorny 1. re- 854.)

Oh God!!! What are we going to do with all this digging and digging and digging through the dense verbiage of the earth--- its enough to make one unconsious--- there is no way to exhaust this setting of words--- the setting of an extension "to right" the extension of a hand or an offering, a simple question: "what ails you sire?" Is thus the sum of rectification what we extend and venture into the world through this ex-isting of the extended offer. What do we offer (this is a question we can handle)?

I think that the question of "rectification" throws us into the hell of dust and darkness we call "research"--- Its a bunch of words that clutter and mean nothing. back to the realm of the mothers (Goethe) in the dusty realm of the womb-- dusty Hades, the unseen one. Rectification and the secret of wealth-- from what dark place do we gather our value? What is our value?

What is my value? (rectified from some dark place). This has been the course of several of my dreams--- even the young upstartish East-Indian men have more value than me--- even they earn a better salary! -Oh well, this life is such a place! But what soul shall all this make? Everything is perfect in the dream except the attitude of the Ego (Hillman...) Everything is perfect in this dense rock of definitions except for the gleaning of perception that I may call "me."

Shamus and Delius (More Idiotic Things)

Delius must have been the protector. I mean, who else would aver otherwise?


To whom do I write to here? Do I render here formal diatribes?

Oh yes I began this log as a form of self laceration-- can I get to my own indictments before these indictments come from you? I mean if I fess up before you make an indictment, then your words become a kind of joke:

One day you might come up to them, and lightly say:
"Oh, I only meant to say that we caught the lad jerking off behind the shed!"

-But he has already told us, and he made a fool out of you!



What is my own indictment? That I am some sort of a bigot? I mean, that's just about the worst thing one could say of anyone. But am I a bigot? Oh God! A question that will make me be honest. I don't like to think of myself as a bigot. Am I a bigot by association? White anglo-saxon european protestant, I mean W.T.F. cut the lad some slack! Maybe the best we can hope for is like one episode of Trailer Park Boys: "Who's the Microphone Assassin?" J-Roc gets beaten down in his whiteness, but finally the cool black rapper says to him something like "You ain't black, dude, but your shit is tight!"

OK, so my shit is tight, that's the best I could do.

I'm not saying that my shit is tight, but if my shit were tight that would be the best I could do! Jeeze!

I can't indict myself any further, but I am somehow standing trial (indicted for innane and rambling blog making).

(Unless you take the participation in blogs or blogging as a phenomenon as some sort of late capitalist bigotry. ...Unless you take some part of me that is not yet open to the suffering, that is blind, that cannot see the true suffeing in others.... and that could be... Unless there could be many parts of me, my brothers and sisters will agree, that did not choose to see the suffering of others.)

"Let me see then the suffering of others without blindness... "
Are you so certain that you want to ask for that? Its a noble thought but... bloody hell!

(my action would then be predicated on the direct wish not to create pain in others, because all pain would be fully experienced as my own...)



"Nay, I argue for peace among all men! (Nay! Neigh! Nigh!) I argue for peace among the workers and whippers! the bulkers and the biggots! (I mean what is worse than being a biggot? Is there anything worse than being a biggot?)
Let's have some peace among simple working men and among middle management alike, always saying:

"What would it avail my life were it not I among you!"

That is why I need you, my slave-men and my bigots!

(The mediocrity of evil)

Bigotry and Bigamy, always a "Bigger Man than You" provokes this attitude. With this attitude you will go far until you will reach the country of "Well-Jesus-said-my-Kingdom-is-not-of-this- kingdom." And you have got to go on looking with nothing but books in your eyes. Then you've got to see with the eyes of Tiresias,
cause aint no earthly eyes tied you.

And then you are already pretty far out on the road, far away from the profane provinces, far away from any provenance and profess: the districts and countries of men. -"But you barely stirred an inch," the old woman said! "You barely got even on your knees, let alone stood up and took a step!"

Words from the original disillusionist, they almost sound like a dirge now, the insane chanting of "Emo" children, who want to slip back into some womb:
Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

(More words, and always already in a context which challenges our perception of a continuous hold: there is always something spilling out or away... and what is that? -Oh do not ask "what is it?" We must go and make our visit!")

Prufrock: Yes the old men, finally old having frittered their way out in so much useless speculation, but it is the fate of the old man to have fretted and to have wittered and to have whittled down the choices of his life.

Shamus and Delius are out. A brief hunting party. A minor indiscretion. The twin gods, yes, Thomas, I visited them long ago. Shamus is the shaman, the flaming lit candle, the tooth of fire. And Delius was just an after thought! Prometheus and Epimetheus... or later the Dioscuri, Pollux and Castor. Sons of Zeus know only their earthly mothers, but question the origin of their fathers... they say "my kingdom is not of this kingdom." We have had enough of them then, these sons of Zeus, who keep speaking of being spies in their own land.

I have said that the name of the god is "Awake!" And what is wakefulness but a separation: that fateful spilling forth of context, the froth of the chalice (read scheide or "sheath")". "Kurze brief zum Langen Abschied"

Abscheid is farewell, the essence of the feminine: separation and farewell. (Ra rides upon his little cosmic vessel into the galactic beauty of the stars.)

Delius seems to mean nothing. He was a composer who lived in the Nineteenth Century-- that is all! I am abashed, and poorly funded in trying to sort out this Delius thing. What do I have in the matter of funding? A matter of going out into the world and asking "What is my value?" Delius, poor in spirit! Delius, devious, Delia Elena San Marco (The Borges story, don't you remember?). Delius and Delicious: Di-Lectum: Dilectus, beloved. (Can I stand the portion of myself that rests voluptuous in all respects? -Only in that I can stand the part of me that is homeless and upon the road!).

And Lectus is the bloody conch or bier. (Let us not speak of the hero on his funeral pyre as the flaming tongs and teeth of flame rose higher!): He glimpsed her hand grasped around it, the bloody pink conch, sound the horn of wakefulness: Brrrrroooooaaar!

(And in comes the cat with a) "Meoowwwww!"(he has had a successful venture into cattiness.)


Thank you, Bastet! ...And now we continue:



Lectus is the elect and the illicit: choice: more precisely of the frame, given that the framer is enough of a lover and not a fighter, given that the frame is offered and not forced upon us. The framer is beautiful or beloved insofar as he makes certain beloved choices--- these choices make the genius into the beloved, the uncondemned, the rarer and more beautiful are his choices.



That is why I would say I love Werner Herzog or Thomas Beckett or maybe Addas Kiorastami... maybe Matthew Barney, but I know my friend would say he is just some young upstart (and I would say that my young upstarts are just getting started). I am a lover of these men who have made their frame so explicit. They could do no wrong, that is what they are, and that is what they are worth. Other men I will condemn for their poor choices, their lack of aesthetic acumen (aesthetic meaning not merely that which is perceptible by the senses, but also the blindness of the seer Tiresias, another great hermaphrodite). Blindness and sight: the sum of our aesthetic choices. I love the men that see visions with the eyes of Tiresias, because the other men are distracted, and become slave to a woman or to a landscape, or to some sentiment or sentimentality, which then becomes intolerable and suffocating: which is the source of every cliche.



Werner Herzog: the eye of Tiresias. The eye of a blind man who was forced into the blind, into the blackness, who offered up his sight to the void. Where no eye is round there the eye of Tiresias a metaphor based upon a ruined, crumpled organ ("my kingdom is not of this kingdom") (a dangerous, tricky thing to say). But so is it to say that the eye is not of this world and still it is not blind, still it has vision.



Shamus is light and vision and Delius is cavity in the shining tooth, a creche or a cave.



Shamus and Delius used to own a book publishing company. Out there on the edge of the wilderness, we keep pushing them out further to the Mongolian plane-- heard of only in Murakami tales of utter savagery, human skinning, out there on the Mongolian plane, where the dust collects on funny hats like colored parenthesis on human heads, the caravanseri have wandered and some have lingered, and some have been lost forever before they got to any other place.



At first we wondered it this was a children's book publishing company, but no longer have we lingered. Let the children be our children, but let them be children! Let them be not of us! Let the children make their own book publishing company, and let our book publishing company grow old and perish out here on the edges of some plane. (it was some plane we were traveling, with a crooked mark, it was some plane we were traveling when we got into some conversation, me and this other stranger, who became known as my closest male friend but still kept his alien distance.)



And what of women? What of this Deborah? I write this because, well, she is in some foreign land. Yes, I'm lost somewhere, she's in some foreign land!



Throw women into the mix, otherwise it is a stag-fest. Throw women into the fare, then you have rutting stags, each vying for one woman's attention: who is most pretty and who is most attractive?

And I am sitting home alone, I have my barrel of gin (I don't really like gin in reality but please stay with my metaphor!), the firey djinn, my spirits, ghosts, images, reflections like troubled water of spirit, like troubled glints of son on the water. That's what it's like to be alone here. Decaying Brit, yes, neither this nor that: that is my name. To sit home alone is to expose oneself to one's continual perception that one has had a bad mood. Things aren't perfect either. I wouldn't say that I am lonely. I have just turned toward the inner voluptuous that is the meaning of my woman. And for tonight this is OK. At home with my troubled spirits. Can the Anima have meaning? Meaning is the provenance of the old man, but that is the meaning of my bad mood. Meaning that the mood is my ligament, link.

Some men will write out their fiction, and will point to this or that possibility, but I will just point to my foul mood. There she sits like a dirty buzzard (buzzards are actually very clean). And what is this vulture but MAAT:

"In the medieval pack, the title card is Le Mat, adapted from the Italian Matto, madman or fool; the property of this title will be considered later. But there is another. or (one might say) a complementary, theory. If one assumes that the Tarot is of Egyptian origin, one may suppose that Mat (this card being the key card of the whole pack) really stands for Maut, the vulture goddess, who is an earlier and more sublime modification of the idea of Nuith than Isis.
"There are two legends connected with the vulture. It is supposed to have a spiral neck; this may possibly have reference to the theory (recently revived by Einstein, but mentioned by Zoroaster in his oracles) that the shape of the universe, the form of that energy which is called the universe, is spiral.
"The other legend is that the vulture was supposed to reproduce her species by the intervention of the wind; in other words, the element of air is considered as the father of all manifested experience. There is a parallel in Anaxamenes' school of Greek philosophy." (Crowley, A. The Book of Thoth; Equinox vol. III, no.v. p.53)

What is startling is this Air-Originariness. It is startling and unsettling, for the latter Christian interpretation was that this was the Church of the Air: the dream of the false god or Demi-ourge. And the Demi-ourge is not the vision in the eyes of Tyresias. The Church of the Air comes up only round the Mormon radio programs, and while the Church of the LDS is extremely weird in places, I do not think it constellates that much Satanic crap: Satan breeds from hate and fear and intolerance. Mormons can have a lot of hang-ups and devices, but I do not think that they prefer their fears of others to their rejoicing in song... (and what was it about the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in Cremaster 2: a chorus of hate? The most startling and horrid of all nightmares, The Executioner's tale. But this is clearly not the wind .) I don't think it really matters-- this church-of-the-air-diabolic-stuff is just rubbish. Look, I believe the Mormons are good and beautiful people, and aside from the times that they look down upon me (or anyone) because I (or anyone) choose(s) not to be Mormon they are, in this moment, at least for me, angels of divinity, compassion and truth. I really like that they will redeem me after I am dead (at least that is my hope) --- after I have had a life to struggle and to contend that in some manner I have my own path of religious development--- my own visions--- they will redeem some part of my ghost that loves the truth--- even if it is only their vision of the truth. I love truth...

But air is not exactly Aether either. Air is still an aesthetic element, but it does not belong either to the imaginal realm of Tiresias, or to the emptiness which must in some manner pre-exist the unfolding of all elements. Pneuma, Prana, Spiritus, Ruach all this is fine to breathe across the void, but it is not the space itself. It is not the Apeiron and it is not Ain Soph Aur. But extension itself-- perceptible quality of empty extendedness... well this rapidly becomes uninteresting! What about saying that "the emptiness is endless"? (That's a little better.) All this is nothing more than just casting about for words without the astounding force of Prana behind them.

I keep thinking of "Fake Sparkle or Golden Dust" (the Peter Murphy song). This comes much closer-- I think that has that rather amazing issuance of "breath" in it.

These are not intellectual things-- the intellect just fails when it tries to analyze them, or it gives up: Was soll das Alles? This is the guardianship of language, and never does it go beyond its own feeble joking quality. But to make Prana into some kind of struggle for force of discourse or power becomes rapidly absurd and somehow belicose and turgid, like trying to read Ayn Rand for any length of time, the weakened animus becomes inflated, rather than containing any real strength, which would require ...soul. (Soul: the one who sits and is judged, and whose measure is the gathering of all of the images --- and the turning of images--- their transformations---of their life.)

Air is elementally akin to intellect, but only in its denigrated form. But what is offered here is the tracing of currents, lines in a dust-storm. Perhaps out of this unquiet dust storm this unsettling darkness, in modest homes glows a little oil lamp light. The darkness is vast: as the shadow cast by Jung holding a candle in the Alps (and from then on the entirety of the work of the unconscious would carry in the shadow, since conscious life had already become fascinated with the archetypal, realm of symbols...).

And what is the point of all nightmares but to wake us? Waking, separation, and abscheid, here we go into the rhythm again.

Deeper than the buffets of the winds of fate, and deeper than the pulverizing force of our own prana... deeper still is emptiness.... "my kingdom is not of this kingdom."

I have seen others who wrote long and complex-ly like this. I asked for 13 Haiku, so here goes:

1. Haiku follows us
Blackbirds are winging away
Will I make heart break?

2. Chord progression tease
One octave a pretty flirt
The other heart sob.

3. Shamus Delius
Two twins in a bad play
After Fish and Chips

4. Poem Upstart Wind
Column, twister likes Culture
In end burries us.

5. Samples are undone
I never was example
Wind will carry us.

6. Stiff, stirring, on-edge
The verdant Chinese garden
Plunder and murder

7. The end, no secrets
I blow the horn and witness
Sweetest Heart awake!

8. Sweetheart Deborah
I have ate all the peaches.
For you I am true.

9. Absurd spectacle
Sexual fidelity
Gladly my heart breaks

10. But not my promise
To be alone for you and
Be alone for us.

11. Lone Ontology
Meditate the galaxy
Not like Captain Kirk

12. Friend, are you lonely?
The friend to the lonely
Hg-Tristmegistus

13. This last poem smile
In dying we clear the way
Waving of the reed

Here's To You Mrs. San Geronimo

A bell rings
In my left ear
It is Mrs. San Geronimo
She has taken up that stacatto singing.
She has come to discuss her property
And who is right to own it
Legal lessons
Lessen
Loosen the bilious billfold
They were not listening to him or to me

I own you Mrs. San Geronimo
You and your alphebetized sentences.
You are a bloody pain.
You own me, Mrs. San Geronimo.
Every day you write my paycheck.
So I can take it home and play with the cats.

One day Mrs. San Geronimo
Travels to the ocean
Far away, from her little house on the prarie
Out to the seaside,
Men wearing striped bathing costumes and straw hats
Wave their moustacios in the direction of the sun
Make incomprehensible prancing on the sea shore
She sells sea shells
To Mrs. Geronimo
Who takes them
Into her floral arrangement.
Alive alive, ho!
With candied hard sauce.

"I cannot bring this world quite round" spoke the attorney
Wally Stephens in a bathtub brushing his nails
Smoking a cheap cigar.

There goes yet another poet
With his straw hat
Waving his moustacio in the sun.

(P.S. the first photo of the male bathers was provided through web searching for http://www.gallimauphry.com/april_2005.html)

Seriously! Quicker Parrot Issues!

Quicker Parrots? There are such things?

These photos are not fair to lovely Deborah, but I had to include them because it included her nasty mean parrot Noka-oi.

Noka-oi is Hawaiian and it means the very best but she is the very very worst bird possible.

I had a certain enjoyment out of not being fair. I got her up early at my friend Jim's request and made her stand up with the parrot. I got her up at 7:40 AM and made her take the photo in her colorful bathrobe. It necessarily had to be her colored bathrobe, which I actually like very much.

I thought it important to include the second smaller image of Deborah with the bird that I took first because I had the image that had to include a usual gray day in San Pedro as a kind of backdrop. Behind her is one of the stinky-est points of pollution in the world: the port of Los Angeles!

HEGEL! KOOL!.....NO! HEIGL, COOL!

Back in the days when saying something mattered I was still finishing under-graduate school. In those days I loved to read Hegel, who was and is irreconcilably dense. I remain irreconcilably dense, but have not the perspicacity to publish anything even remotely academic.

While making this important sojourn into Academia I was fortunate enough to run into a peer, a young woman who also studied Hegel for some unknown reason. When she asked me whom I was studying and writing my bachelor's thesis on, I replied simply with the term: "Hegel." She responded enthusiastically, "Hegel! Cool!"

I think that the young, short, pert, pretty woman with a slightly poor complexion, and who wore too much make-up cosmetic base was actually genuinely enthusiastic about the whole affair of having anything to do with Hegel near her. I believe that, as much as I may have spent the subsequent 20 years lampooning her southern-drawl style voice, she was kind and intelligent. Nevertheless Jan (pronounced "Yan," as in the man's name) and I viciously lampooned her ever after as somewhat of a Philistine. The pronunciation became "Heigl! Cool!" I hope she would forgive me for being a stupid, boorish man. Maybe even join in and tell me about some idiotic turn of speech that made legend.

Actually I know a moment of sheer embarrassment for me: it was during the audition season for the one-act plays my senior year of college. I obtained a part in a play written by a student: it had a vaguely angst-filled air to it, set in some cafe. At the end, my abhorrent acting was lampooned (perhaps it wasn't abhorrent, or at least any more abhorrent than the meaningless play production itself). I was made to look like a jerky buffoon who anticipated the action of the play. (Who could blame me entirely? -It was a young actress kissing me savagely!)

Perhaps our friend, the young woman in the class of 1991 philosophy major at our college had some real beauty. It is probable that that beauty and yearning to study philosophy for some "meaning" was "more" beautiful than the "acute" attractive skin tone and shape of Katherine Heigl. Nonetheless the eye-popping, eye-catching sketch in today's yahoo web page inspired me to construct a full article on this post. Maybe Katherine Heigl has some soul spark beneath her perfect exterior. It's just too much, so forgive me, for, eventually another 20 years.