Barbouillage et Gribouillage
Gradually, ...And then Suddenly
"People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future, is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." -Albert E.
the Precipice of Godlessness & the Marsh of Superstition
amor intellectualis diaboli
i am hell & i am bent on
bringing the world to its knees,
a severely gifted humanity
(& gymnastic cursive handwriting)
i think we’ll understand it
when ‘too late’ is overdue
a Symbol by (and for) the Populace
"Cliche" should be a symbol - like the Hammer & Sickle - of the populace
So, recently I’ve been thinking a bit about the usefulness/practicality of Cliches (such as the quintessential ice-breaker employed at the beginning of this sentence, “so”). My typically cynical response to the ultraoverused words/phrases has been softened by a book, “Prozac Nation.” This book is not only full of pop-culture cliches, but is, in fact a Cliche (proper Noun) in & of itself. In spite of this (or maybe because of it), I have found its message to be disconcertingly helpful and therapeutic.
The author’s “everyone has problems, but mine are a bit more complicated” approach is simultaneously annoying and…correct. Cliches are functional because they are Accurate, not because they’re well-crafted. Cliches are language-made-populist. Kind of like a less-bullshit Warhol. They are Pop-Art for Grammar.
a meticulous/mythic Desolation
Si inaequalibus aequali addas, omnia erunt inaequalia (unlike+like=unlike) ad nauseum
(variance & symmetry) vascillation & congruency & me
Humor is the leading cause of bullshit, worldwide
time Twice-Reversed
the effect of time reversal on various states
Imagine a bride (blushing or otherwise), with her veil draped in meticulous haphazard fashion over her face.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
…the groom leans in, the bride closes her eyes, their lips are quivering as they prepare to kiss each other for the first time as husband and wife.
But, the veil won’t lift. She can she his face, his lips, but she cannot kiss him. Happiness is Right in Front of Her! -But the fucking veil is unyielding.
That, my friends, is my depression…
she smelled of Inexpensive Vice
no one escapes. Reality is everywhere.
she hung around the rue Pigalle,
she smelled of inexpensive vice
and reeked of sin. She wasn’t nice
This pale and scrawny two-bit gal
–Edith Piaf
Psycho-History?!
Everything, for me, is Preparation. I'm not sure what its preparing for, but its all preparation...
calabi-yau & kaluza-klein
A moving representation of 9-Dimensional Calabi-Yau manifolds
a Cigarette a day makes Dying okay
Madly Self-Involved
and its the same wide-eyed nights that happened before,
Its the same listless mumblings – only this time there’re more
C(18)H(19)NOS -->C(23)H(24)FN(4)O(2)
its ill-advised to sit anywhere with unscheduled thoughts -
who knows where you’ll end up or when they will stop
'n sometimes the truth's best left unsaid...
I’ve never been mentally diagnosed before (with the exception of the whole “addict” bit)… and its comforting and horrifying. Do I -truly- have… Something?! Maybe now its settling in. Its moving from my own skewed perceptions into Reality. Real life. Its here. And I can’t just therapize it into the nether world. It isn’t some poem or fanciful thought. No. Its true. Truth? Maybe.
the search for Mersenne Primes
mersenne.org
unrequited lust and the expiration of a life
(from the dropbox) Hang you from the heavens, Sea within a Sea, Are friends electric?, Every you & every me
Benjamin & the Mysterious Psychosis
I’ve always enjoyed Chesterton’s descriptions of the Logician and the Poet. He said that it was the Poet who wanted to “get his head into the heavens,” but the Logician tried to get the heavens into his head “and it is his head that splits.”
I used to believe I was the Poet.
Now? Well…
My eyes (mouth & ears, too) are vacuums – gorging themselves on knowledge, meaning, words, Anything.
All I wanted was to get my head into the heavens, and I ended up trying to swallow the heavens whole…
…and now I get to see what being a madman really feels like
grogginess
(un-lackadaisically so)
permeates my days -
its a guilty sluggishness,
born of overwork & unrest,
overthinking & unsleeping,
& risperdonian daydreaming.
the rain makes
dying okay -
something else will grow
in my absence;
death’s altruistic tendencies
are drearily revealed:
“make room for the New!”
Planck and his Constants
too too too too too too too too too much to ever know
the God Particle
the higgs boson and the Large Hadron Collider
Cirilla's and Skyline Chili
4am is too early for my head, And watching the sun rise over Cirilla’s “sexy shoe sale” just isn’t beautiful.
But, watching the awkward businessmen park their sportscars across the street, and then run into Cirilla’s, trying not to be seen (with sunglasses on & everything) – Now that is amusing.
They park in front of Skyline Chili, hoping nobody will notice them sprint -in their suit- into the Adult Video Store.
Someone really should tell them how obvious they make themselves look. A neon-lit sign: “Hi! Don’t look @ Me! I’m married, but I… I need some Porn!?”
We’re kinda sick, us humans. How else would this be okay?
What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov’st shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage
a religion of rationality
i am not well. i’m not okay.
things can’t get better
because i don’t, i don’t know
what they are.
trying to feel Normal while on heavy medication is like trying to shove cash back into an ATM
10,000 adverts in those left-wing magazines,
owned by an old woman who has doubtless left the scene;
10 to 1 they’re mothers and now look what they’ve become,
earning all their money from some right-wing smarmy scum.
and they can’t escape ’cause food stamps always come too late,
& the welfare line downtown seems like a lifetime wait.
and when I told her I couldn’t afford her, she cried.
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