PS for Will: did your dad send you to this school and is this your gratitude?? IOW, how did you end up in a military school? Thanks again and good luck. Regarding Keyserling's grammared enneagram --For anybody who remembers me mentioning the Gurdjeff student/language teacher in india/collator of his famous travelling philosopher's 'School of Wisdom' debris, I have good news. He sure picked a good man across the water; the Floridan wholistic lawyer is coming through generously: http://www.lawsofwisdom.com/index.html A big, fat book including many fine diagrams (the one about grammar is introduced about halfway chapter 5: http://www.lawsofwisdom.com/chapter5.html and further advertised in: chance and choice (http://ddi.digital.net/~wisdom/school/chance.html) whence one is refered to: http://www.sun-angel.com/emporium/sow/sow.html where the worked out in print versionk besides CD's, tapes and video's) can be ordered.
a play on u c k: hi yall, remember I wrote: "....propose to push you forward as Australia's contribution to a pivotal position in UN peacemaking intelligence forces and they better hurry the muck up too!...."? (Concerning and crediting: http://www.nesta.org.uk/fwake/fwake.htm) Well, I was overcome by another istallment/attack of the lonely man midnight chuckle (a disease easy enough to avoid: sleeping next to a night restaurant which plays havUCK with one's sleep/dream patterns; sleeping outside without electricity, water, candle, pen and paper; exhausting one's self with hard and humble labour) which clamped on and layed out the isee merlineal enclosure shackle. Start the war'm on thugs! Put a smeark on their mugs while/so they bask in spitloit staddicktioncs even bigger boogyer buggerer and more bullishly. Eluding the elision, alluding to the illusion letters will help an' 'djust the hoithy haughts of pissed moddern hochmut! Sorry I pregressed. Regarding: "...hurry the mUCK up..!" WARRY the UCK Fop? Am I me shearing simthongue? 150 dislexically gifted/hampereds coming out of the A'dammer universitease closet this week; practically storming out of the woodwork with a sense of pride if not purpose....more undiscovered cases suspected. Anyways, hurry up lest of/for the miserable UCK there be little left but a mop up on you. Further pariation (pariable parity prone pintervailing) fosterable for jesus, joyce and any jiteasure coming to scrival with poundtaintfan near you. Restfrain: They're gonna line up but never stand pat. While poetpiet meets the "depropositioning" of Pythagoras(thesis defended day before the queen's day 1998, "de ontstelling van Pythagoras", 442 pages; a book which evolved in the same building and at the same time as my site did. Remarkably enough I had no idea..we use different sources and he looks at the struggle in esthetetic theory "more than is lovely to me" as the Dutch expression has it.) Restfrain continued: the big bully balls wheel/torque/gravitate/momentate and line up, imperturbably keeping the tyranny of time on time every and all the time we can fathom. We will never be able to pick them off. Perhaps try kidnap genocidal lynchpin Milosevic instead. Any naughty marines who like to escape insubordination charges of their home country to be awarded and honoured with exterritorial leadership of UN forces in return for their trouble? Or is only money supposed to be and remain free for and by the few? What can I do? LiveCamcord the line of suffering?????? Restfrain concluded: we can just ride'm all they 're worth. PS: the dutch word onstelling (in the quoted booktitle) is a noun, many of them end on ing whereas in english that denotes a verb, reflecting the truly aristocratic/atavistic/romantic/heroic notion that there are leaders who set things in motion.
a story prompted by what has occured just like the doctor ordured: a silly, green, shiny, slimey and in a plastic garbage bag for plastic garbage deposited turd On Mon, 5 Apr 1999 23:00:53 Neil Hickson wrote: Why then that could be translated as, "wipe your arses with your nose" ! A bit pungent for my tastes. He stuck his nose absolutely everwhere, didn't he----- the dirty dog. But there might be a bit of gnosis (as in gnostic) in the 'gnose' too. Probably took his lead from de Sade and his anise-candies flatulence pills. Now there's a man who could've told you more than you'll ever need to know about a bit of mustardpunge in the tailend. Da bo chi, Neil H. Date: Tue, 06 Apr 1999 00:51:15 -0800; Subject: Re: Wipe your glosses: --Gee whizz, gotta be something in the air: a waste/fuel dichotomy every where I look and still no one discussing Bataille inspired Nick Land or Belgrade sensibly on the net. I looked yesterday (with my fav searcher: metacrawler). And this morning I find a turd in the open plastic rubbish garbage bag under my glass patio; an upright pallet with window frames slanted to the shanteelike corrugated sheet roofed former bicycle shed I inhabit. It looks like somebody made use of my semi-open space home furnished with A'dam refuge. This place is on an old mossed over school yard used by two calfsize dogs who's owners dispute the right to leave a low gate open rather than closed with an older lady who went through 50 stray and assorted cats in this green corner of Amsterdam. Anyway, back to the myserious gift presenter, the presence of which I had not caught a whiff of all during last night. This person must have pondered the pot baggy with rosehip seeds in it, emptied them on a plastic cherry tomato container lid and at some point put a turd on top of all that. He shat on it. What a top off. Couldn't wait until the always hypothetical and absent owner consents /instructs/ stops holding off out on and about stuff. Followed irrepressible urges; no need to dig any up laboriously. Here comes one now. Sudden. Praps triggerd by contemplation of what potentially grows up into pretty purges. An amateur and fanciful landscaper's savings. Production capital however latent and organic, minimal and merely promising like a rosehip seed. Cute little things, all different shapes, not like a coconut or an avocado seed at all. Soak up the shape of its energypotential and a taste, a foreshadowing, a lure, a knowledge floods in; bypass all these formulawarenicheties of morphogenetic and paramagnetic resonance penetrations to involuntary answer a compelling call. Adam where art thou, where is thy turd, where drops the boin? Did you start up a seedball company (found one on the net this weekend). What will he do with it? Or rather, who's turd is this? Can I call that person to account? It was probably a playing child; one who's reproductive fires are budding and barely awakened. Anyway, I now have to plant these seeds I guess instead of storing 'm away with so many others (I have some 2 year old black walnuts, lots of hemp seeds, etc). there must be 20 or thirty of them sticking to this goo. Must I dilute it and stir it all into a bucket of sand before burying it somewhere. Another old lady, who unlike me, has, in consultation with the school, ripped patches of the yard pavement up to plant'm in a little botanic garden flavor arrangement was worried about my waterclosetless unsanitation a few days ago. Although I am grateful no truly respectless and raving madmen showed up at my vulnerable abode yet I would have preferred calling my own shot on my own seed though. I don't mind unbridled curiosity but it is best satisfied when momentum, turmoil and spins from ricochet effects have settled a bit. Be a purely passively acquisitive absorbent black hole and learn. But travel and adventure have, apart from the quickening effects of breaking routine, nice and longed for aspects cause they constitute future oriented elations and nourishment due to perfect digestion and finished mourning, short memories, deadened conscience, a succesful escape. Pioneering is usually offensive and full of misguided optimisms attempting to hide the nervousness of the displaced. Just one more paradox I guess. praps I should have a conversion and rebaptise myself parade ox piet. The territory one has and what's more important, shares with people like commons, trade routes, noman's lands, ethers and oceans are the potentiators of amplitude; the polarizers of contradictions. When the shares one trades are lacking in veracity content it is soon over with the ligitimacy of the word vs that of the sword. Truth spells death to market share for weapons of mass destruction. Take aim at/with multiple and dynamic foci.
Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1999 00:45:07 -0800; Subject: spectrum partaking deprived oneliners: yes elaine, by all means dig into that archive, niftily searchable and potent enough to swamp and smother if not answer most queries, not in the last place cause it would save us a lot of unnecessary oneliners. I get the feeling they (including the mud rage, a sad perversion of more intimate mudslinging, merely useful as fingerpractise and conference training) from affection deprived hungerers who will and can never not use technology as a prosthetic (bad enough as that is already) but abuse it as a surrogate (if there are gradations of irretrievability worth speaking of at all between these degrades; a point I would be hard put upon when called to argue it).
Date: Mon, 19 Apr 1999 00:13:58 -0800; Subject: Re: Brain Exchange (>http://www.TheBrain.com/Free) and Finnegans Wake: --thanks for this link, it illustrates exactly the procedure which must have helped Ulrich von Beckerath (see my guest_appearance/ subdirectory) become such a clear thinker. His microfiche publisher (mostly reproductions of personal letters (relatively few of which made it through the last world war; they have some large sheets among them where the web relation games, dynamicized by 'the brain' are prefiguring prominently) has not yet tackled reproducing examples as far as I know but I have been out of touch almost 2 years unfortunately. I will mention the site to him on a postcard and report back.
On Fri, 16
Apr 1999 15:13:14 Bill Buttler wrote: >Hello
FW-List, Please view: http://thinktank.thebrain.com/get.asp?i=2B068
Another angle on location I like to highlight:
Having already given a hint here and there about Keyserling's Kabbala knacktions
(lining up all letters according to the voice
box parts involved making them and combo's thereof when 'wording')
I will divulge what his wife did: she assigned and designated each word
concept and verb a place (somewhere out on a limb of off the zodiac's achx
so! did you need to axe?).
Now, on the same day I was ousted, left out, evicted and pushed out of
a squat (after a two night visit in what was
once my favorite city bycause a):
it's in a very special location (end moraine
cut into by grandest European river, most spectacular relief in all of
Holland (bury me in that arboretum will yas?));
it houses the pretty damn infamous Dutch ag University ((which
still carries the monthly newspaper Acres on my instigation but has just
disbanded all Eco oriented courses and faculties (vakgroepen)))
a lot of foreign students), I entered a church
with a very steep set of roofparts which turned out to house a dome. Now
I had ome of my few major last serious cannabis sessions from the past
few years that morning and it allowed me to envision a combo or orreraries
brainsoftware, Beckerath spiderweb sheets, and Keyserling correlations
all cooped up under and swirling in that multigeared and tricked out inverse
bowl. The brainthing reminded me that's all......
.On Sun, 18 Apr 1999 13:51:20 Jeffrey Skoblow wrote: ..... this is a sign of intimacy between stephen and buck. whatever we may think of buck (and there are many things to think of him-- his role as "usurper" does not define him totally), stephen is clearly attracted to certain qualities in him. that's why the poke hurts-- it's a betrayal (which is a kind of intimate usurpation). Of course it's possible to feel hurt by the insensitivity of people we don't care about or know very well-- but the severity of the hurt is probably a good measure of the care and intimacy involved. buck's lack of sensitivity toward stephen isn't threatening unless stephen needs him to be sensitive-- which evidently he does (as evidenced by his hurt feelings)-- in fact buck may be the only character in the book of whom stephen does make this demand, a relationship in which he lets down his guard, acknowledges his vulnerability, demands to be treated sensitively. Which again speaks to buck's attractions, whatever we may come to think of him in the end. --The famous Amsterdam Waterloo square market with its hippy rags and trinkets, second hand unassorted junk and surplus regularly spills and dumps goods people pick through after closing time. Turks go for the clothes; artists go for oddly shaped materials and bookworms go for books. I found one last friday illustrative of the Joyce vs Gogarty (a)partnership precedents all the way back to jesus and judas. It goes into about 13 couples like Schiller/Hoelderlin, Wagner/Nietsche, etc. Opposites attract, engender and ultimately astound each other.
hi, riverend, I am so happy that my efforts at posting and unsubscribing from j-joyce have been fruitless so far cause you redeem my even more fruitless presence his with just one post!!!! I had a good few laughs and rising admiration for so much common sense. Thanks a bunch. --I actuall didn't start my readings of and in Joyce till I had a good few lines on and by Gogarty in me. I was woofing my way up the Auzzie east coast and landed in a resort where the madam had recently passed away and left a big library in disarray. I righted it a bit and came across a little brown pocket book which got me started. Though my life resembles Joyce's more, he must share my sympathies with Gogarty....as far as my dislike of the drink allows that is... Matter of fact I was enamoured of a boy who playacted in just the way the riverend described and I got as far as going to an italian biz relation of me dad's with him where we paraded in extremely contrasting clothes together. He was brave and got stoned in that far away land around a fountain (later all sorts and very heavy drugs too, got him in and out of rehab; he 's ok last I heard. Always could suck away 7 times the amount of hash any normal person did in one gulp full).
On Sat, 01 May 1999 12:32:34 Jack Kolb wrote: Why, Richard, do you find it so surprising that Buck (and possibly Haines) might abandon Stephen? As far as they know, he's run out of money, and that seems to be all that Buck might care about. I think by then Stephen also might have indicated his feelings towards Buck (possibly with a fist to the eye). I see your posts with displeasure as it is and tried to unscribe mainly bycause of them but now it is getting a bit infuriating to read your proffesorial assertions which do so contradict all my reading of financial dealings between J + G that I wonder nobody has fired you yet for blatant incompetence!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UCLA is too nice for fools like you. Go shelve books in the library or something if you can be trusted with that responsibility. On Tue, 11 May 1999 01:55:36 Norman Voles wrote: >Mr Bouter certainly seems to have got out of the wrong side of his bed on the 4th May. Perhaps if he could explain the cause of his obvious ire we could come to our own conclusions. Otherwise the abuse seems so gratuitous as to seem almost friendly! Are 'bycause' and 'unscribe' intentional Joycean puns or accidentally broken english? Whither Holloway? Date: Tue, 11 May 1999 03:02:02 -0700; Subject: Re: Fwd: Re: I know you've gone through this before... To: "Norman Voles" <email@example.com>, firstname.lastname@example.org: Aspects of my frustration: 1) my unsubscribe troubles (yes, unscribe = just a typo) 2) Kolb's posts which usually make me feel like I am wasting my time and got me angry at the (soon quoted) end of the last one.. 3) My impressions and recollections from reading a good cross section on auto(- and )biographical lit (by and) about both sides of the fins (fanfare flapping and clapping) have certainly left me a conviction of plenty fair (though for my tastes a tad too intoxicated) play on Gog's part, blatantly and irreconcilably contradicting Kolb: "Why, Richard, do you find it so surprising that Buck (and possibly Haines) might abandon Stephen? As far as they know, he's run out of money, and that seems to be all that Buck might care about." I am sorry I can be no more specific on sensibility shaping references since I take no notessssss when I read (just add'm to a stew never to unsuffusedly be discombobulated ever again) and the handful of passages, which I thought memorable enough to cause this fit of indignation (I have only one side to leave my bed, don't most people? What caused this saying far cry sake??)+(with no personal offense intended to brother Kolb of course and I do admire the patience of bookshelvers though I feel obliged to reshelve what I take down just as I hate to be catered to by the string of grower, freighter, retail, etc, although I am certainly dependent on this chain of conveyance even up to cooks and dishwashers since I have not the benefits of running water and cooking equipment at the moment), occur in some handfuls of books on and by both ´killprides´. I have made a point of checking for news on Gogarty even before I started reading (on) Joyce earnestly in 97. The analogy I drew between Goggy/Jamesy and piet/kees may survive this sort of financial rift aspect too perhaps. Let´s see: Kees's father was a worker at the milk factory; wealthy enough to move out of row housing to a free standing one and still raise about 6 kids (kees used to work on saturdays lifting big crates full of milk up to over his head making his arms bulge with veins (his legs were all the weaker though and his dad (probably his role model in this) quite a cripple) something I admired the hell out of and am reminded of much since I have, if not the volume, certainly the definition and in fact get quite turned on to women who have such deliciously male arms <even though they never seem to reciprocate>) but his reach and budget had no doings across borders. (That factory was one of two far and wide. I emptied soured bottles one summer vacation job; that was pretty harrowing though not as bad as 9 knives mincing up the liverwurst ingredients at a very unnerving RPM. It got me nightmares). My father had by that time a bussiness partner who braved and for a time breasted the meatmaffia of northern Italy (if there are no juicy books about that yet, there will be some time soon I'm sure) but he died young and mysteriously, shaking me dad up pretty dreadfully; I remember I was about 7-10 years old getting a ride in the red ferrari that had brought the Italian all the way to Holland and his masterful sockerball kick all the way to and through the tiny little window airing my sister's room...and her holler. Anyway, this man had a relative who ran a hotel in Genua and we (kees and me) went there for a week when I was somewhere between 12 and 15, kees is a few years older. My dad payed for the trip and never was there much of a financial discussion between us. I bored him with my despair of ever being able to prove my adulation and vague plans to run away together. Maybe these effeminate episodes are the very inspirations for him to turn around and play the slimey slitherer around a real hunk; one of the biggest boys in the school (ages 12-16 represented plus some 'redo-ers') and one about whom there was no doubt as to his sexual orientation, and I might add, who took the whole thing as a joke goodhumouredly. He was a star/topscorer on the soccer team and one must not be squeamish about bodily contact when one aspirers to such honours. I was different that way. I was a winger and loped past people as I still do pretty much flash by them trying to leave them with a favorable impression anyway: a breath of spirited air.......... Other mile markers have definitely put a stamp on our characters as his elation due to cannabis made him subject to unpredictable moodswings and mirth at inexplicably complex yet flash throughsights, the merits of which I doubted not. Dad and his neighbour took a dislike to him since he took me into his confidence and protection: together we beat the neighbourhood stalking and leaping through long grass, molesheaps of the worldfamous soft juicy Dutch meadows right in the middle of one of the biggest stretches of them in the world!!!! (shit, did I just write that?? It´s not even really a lie...no part of Vermont is flat out bottomland enough for long enough anywhere, is it?) after the for a while at steady predinner hours disputed soccerball.
>261.23: "Ainsoph, this upright one....Who is he? Whose is he? Why is he?" and so on (10 questions corresponding to the 10 sephiroth): ---I know too little to say either way but I'll adduce Walter Ong (thanks for the ref, shamus...got any more) about the roots of the word agression; it meant/means the upright/uprighting and/or erection/erecting as well. Now I wonder why it is agression does get things up but o so unsustainably and paying for it with such an awful and awful long downtime in between..? That goes for wars, ice ages, trees and other wry loplapsabletouppofs ........histories which motivated a(n in this case jocular/secretive) writer to give the story a twist spin, whirl and weave into similar ones to the point where it is damn near impossible to tell which is which anymore. seam anew
Date: Tue, 04 May 1999 02:40:08
-0700; Subject: Fwd: clueless in shemland; To: email@example.com,
firstname.lastname@example.org: If you get through
this next forward with your intello-hunger stilled,your mood brightened
and wit sharpened I have a shocking apposteazer for ya to top it all off.
Mon, 3 May 1999 04:30:19; From: "Riverend Sterling" <email@example.com>
To: "jjoyce" <firstname.lastname@example.org>; Cc:"Eric McLuhan" <mcluhane@SYMPATICO.CA>,
"fwake-l" <FWAKE-L@LISTSERV.HEA.IE>: A little of being alone in the night, and I have remembered a good analogy for understanding what at first seems impossible, that is, that a book as esoteric and maligned and demanding on the reader's wit as Finnegans Wake could have had a major impact on subsequent world culture in a mainstream manner. It is much easier to trace the radiant regeneration of Ulysses. Since the force of Finnegans Wake is so polymorphous, it is almost a contradiction to search for the imprints of its pattern. Freedom of expression is its gift, but that is not a replicative thing, and Joyce used his own freedom to produce what seems the least spontaneous language in history. If you turn on your TV tonight or today, the 3rd of May 1999, you will probably see three American Nato soldiers freed yesterday to the chagrin of their political leaders. All eyes are on them, from many nations and perspectives, and they have become identified with their now famous camoflauge fatigues. Those fatigues are the products of the surreal art movement which has been the supposedly strange yet undeniably dominant and seminal force in 20th c painting. In Macbeth's day, the poor footsoldier was reduced to wearing real trees, so camoflauge wasn't so popular. No one would have produced camoflauge clothing before Picasso came along, and if so, no one would have been allowed to wear it. Linearality was the essence of civilation, and its epitome was the military. My line against your line.
Surrealists developed an eye for "over-reality," a view which was so literal that realities became thick and superimposed in a satirical irony where things became unreal by virtue of too much reality. Camoflauge clothing required the admission that what we see in a forest, its reality, does not look like pictures of trees. For the most part the eye registers a more abstract pattern of light and shade and color areas. That's what you have to look like if you want to look like part of reality -- like garret paintings by a surrealist! It took the highly trained, self-disciplined, and ourageously innovative rebels of Bohemia, the Nobel Scientists of Shemland as it were, to isolate and redact that perception to the larger population, who remain of course and as they wish clueless, since they prefer in Shaunland to have their mysteries solved for them without them. But the servants knew. I want to find this sort of intelligence in somebody of the female sex. Their souls never are as refined and beautiful as yours in my experience. I want some shake and beat it too. I want to plant an orchard and get somebody's wild spirit to fall in step stone stip stop stoop smell flowers and hop on gait is it you who I am wwwoooing too???? warning: my hair is now so long it seems an effective deterrent to most women but sex hustling in A'dam, semi legal and problematic as it is, makes for little else needed to have a woman view men tolerating these debasing conditions for another minute with some scrupulous contempt and I don't blame them. That is excepting those with vices enough to vie with men and those riding innocences momentous enough to just dream and scheme around the acquisition of comfort at any price affordable.
On Fri, 30 Apr 1999 23:05:19 Karl Reisman wrote: The book you want is Mummeries of Resurrection by Mark Troy It was published in Sweden in some academic series His wife was a curator for the travelling King Tut He is very good - but when he went back to California > all he good get was labor in a garden nursery So back to Sweden. I am resenting the implication that keeping your head cool (even if poorly payed) is preferable over living in a demanding growing climate (where gardening at the calibre (...oops, magnitude?...no, no no, ...mineral metabolization for fresh air reduction!) of Luther Burbank really bloomed). However, desertification trends as they are Yogoslavia is next big time it seems, I tend to admire and even emulate these sorts of criteria. Anyway, what job has he now I wonder?
On Fri, 7 May 1999 02:22:41 Riverend Sterling wrote: .......censorship does not work, and in the process, seems almost always to turn into a nasty affair run by very limited and unpleasant sorts of people who are propelled by hidden agendas of their own........"Censorship creates robots discouraged from developing decent powers of discriminating and objective thought. Children who are raised to be strong-minded, balanced in opinion, and who are able to make judgements which are independent, informed, and fair -- these are society's treasure. Such children are usually some of the first victims of a censorship-prone society. "One concomittant of a free society is our right to be offended*. It is a bittersweet right at times, but one to be cherished . . . unless you are ready to give up having a free society. good effort riv, but the censorship sails and that's fine allright no less than unavoidable anyway. The imposed and imposing censorsaucer(chip)s we must not allow to land. The cross the board censorbrella is what we must defend our goodness knows we need rain against. Voluntary, from the bottom up, localized and/or personalized censorship in the sense of educated guesses and choices?? Good stuff!!! Let's have more of it. As the 'Vrij Nederland' weekly says this week: We must hand the Balkan the best of philosophies, not drop bombs on 'm. I guess 'we' want their rare mettle. PS*. I find the choice of the word offended* a little questionable. Let's grant that an arab in the desert has the right to be offended and even feel personally hurt by clearcutting of forests elsewhere. He certainly has the right to distance himself and perhaps the duty to convey his sensibilities, half way around the world if need be and by the breath of beardless Burbank it does you see.
Date: Sat, 08 May 1999 03:36:20
-0700; Subject: water, gender and grittyeroxides; On Fri, 7 May 1999 23:50:14
Riverend Sterling wrote: Dear Elaine
and list, ............ we do seem to
be in a dreamlike flow of layered images which hook into each other like
water molecules sharing electrons so there is a huge sense of flow but
it is impossible to disentangle specific particles -- thence the terms
of the kaleidescope family in the Wake: colliderscape being one, there
is at least one other. It is as though the dreamer is having sexual feelings
during sleep which are looking for a place to land without much real effort
Somewhere in the early eighties I started
tracking down, copying and reading the work of Julius Hensel, perhaps the
grittiest of Germans in recorded history (Jason
take note; some of his writs are in my currency issues subdirectory). His
cosmology involves appoint- and assignment of gender to the "first elements
of the universe: Oxygen and hydrogen". Since in his view 2 males surround
one female I thought it stroked nicely with Robert Graves's 'matrimaginative'
view of the male being vied over by 2 consorts wether rival lovers or a
father and son tandem.
Just to spice this so far boring post up a bit, here's me latest inspired
by the difference in operational clockspeeds (not to mention bankbalance
flow) between top notch broom pushers (those
lucky enough to escape the automated macheneries)
and ball kickers in Dutch society: Preciously slowmotioning and all the
more steadily succesful maintenance orchestration has crossed a threshold
with the help of the floortool emotionation possesing someone who prefers
to remain unanymost. Microbesoft presents its youngest sprout: the newest
and most spectacularly improved water jet flung rock flour spout
for those who want to grow there to stay.
rdano Bruno pics)
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