11.19.2007
11.16.2007
11.13.2007
x-ecutioners at their best murdering the classix
http://theessentialelements.blogspot.com/2007/09/x-ecutioners-murder-classix-2002.html
"yo first of all son arson sparking a bussing call me dopesnatcher hard to capture militant like a convict manifesting working like appliances sciences try to flee by the doorway back to the essence have you restin throwing n_s off airplanes cause cash rules analyze me like a chain reaction"
"yo first of all son arson sparking a bussing call me dopesnatcher hard to capture militant like a convict manifesting working like appliances sciences try to flee by the doorway back to the essence have you restin throwing n_s off airplanes cause cash rules analyze me like a chain reaction"
"break on the break" eddie henderson inside you piano
http://www.sendspace.com/file/nqq5d5
The dopeness I link, I guarantee delight
tip of the pin to http://www.people.fas.harvard.edu/~hhsu/blog.html
The dopeness I link, I guarantee delight
tip of the pin to http://www.people.fas.harvard.edu/~hhsu/blog.html
11.08.2007
Dionysius
There are men who, from a lack of experience or out of apathy, turn mockingly away from such phenomena as from a “sickness of the people,” with a sense of their own health and filled with pity. These poor people naturally do not have any sense of how deathly and ghost-like this very “Health” of theirs sounds, when the glowing life of the Dionysian throng roars past them. Under the magic of the Dionysian, not only does the bond between man and man lock itself in place once more, but also nature itself, now matter how alienated, hostile, or subjugated, rejoices again in her festival of reconciliation with her prodigal son, man. The earth freely offers up her gifts, and the beasts of prey from the rocks and the desert approach in peace. The wagon of Dionysus is covered with flowers and wreaths. Under his yolk stride panthers and tigers.
On the other hand, we do not need to speak merely hypothetically when we have to expose the immense gap which separates the Dionysian Greeks from the Dionysian barbarians. In all quarters of the old world (setting aside here the newer worlds), from Rome to Babylon, we can confirm the existence of Dionysian celebrations, of a type, at best, related to the Greeks in much the same way as the bearded satyr whose name and characteristics are taken from the goat is related to Dionysus himself. Almost everywhere, the central point of these celebrations consisted of an exuberant sexual promiscuity, whose waves flooded over all established family practices and traditional laws. The wildest bestiality of nature was here unleashed, creating an abominable mixture of lust and cruelty, which has always seemed to me the real witches' potion.
The language of song and poetry of such a doubly defined celebrant was for the Homeric Greek world something new and unheard of. Dionysian music especially awoke in that world fear and terror. If music was apparently already known as an Apollonian art, this music, strictly speaking, was a rhythmic pattern like the sound of waves, whose artistic power had developed for presenting Apollonian states of mind. The music of Apollo was Doric architecture expressed in sound, but only in intimate tones, characteristic of the cithara [a traditional stringed instrument}. The un-Apollonian character of Dionysian music keeps such an element of gentle caution at a distance, and with that turns music generally into emotionally disturbing tonal power, a unified stream of melody, and the totally incomparable world of harmony.
To grasp this total unleashing of all symbolic powers, man must already have attained that high level of freedom from the self which seeks to express itself symbolically in those forces. Because of this, the dithyrambic servant of Dionysus will understand only someone like himself. With what astonishment must the Apollonian Greek have gazed at him! With an amazement which was all the greater as he sensed with horror that all this may not be really foreign to him, that even his Apollonian consciousness was covering the Dionysian world in front of him, like a veil.
-- Nietzsche, from the Birth of Tragedy
On the other hand, we do not need to speak merely hypothetically when we have to expose the immense gap which separates the Dionysian Greeks from the Dionysian barbarians. In all quarters of the old world (setting aside here the newer worlds), from Rome to Babylon, we can confirm the existence of Dionysian celebrations, of a type, at best, related to the Greeks in much the same way as the bearded satyr whose name and characteristics are taken from the goat is related to Dionysus himself. Almost everywhere, the central point of these celebrations consisted of an exuberant sexual promiscuity, whose waves flooded over all established family practices and traditional laws. The wildest bestiality of nature was here unleashed, creating an abominable mixture of lust and cruelty, which has always seemed to me the real witches' potion.
The language of song and poetry of such a doubly defined celebrant was for the Homeric Greek world something new and unheard of. Dionysian music especially awoke in that world fear and terror. If music was apparently already known as an Apollonian art, this music, strictly speaking, was a rhythmic pattern like the sound of waves, whose artistic power had developed for presenting Apollonian states of mind. The music of Apollo was Doric architecture expressed in sound, but only in intimate tones, characteristic of the cithara [a traditional stringed instrument}. The un-Apollonian character of Dionysian music keeps such an element of gentle caution at a distance, and with that turns music generally into emotionally disturbing tonal power, a unified stream of melody, and the totally incomparable world of harmony.
To grasp this total unleashing of all symbolic powers, man must already have attained that high level of freedom from the self which seeks to express itself symbolically in those forces. Because of this, the dithyrambic servant of Dionysus will understand only someone like himself. With what astonishment must the Apollonian Greek have gazed at him! With an amazement which was all the greater as he sensed with horror that all this may not be really foreign to him, that even his Apollonian consciousness was covering the Dionysian world in front of him, like a veil.
-- Nietzsche, from the Birth of Tragedy
11.07.2007
11.05.2007
11.03.2007
11.01.2007
10.31.2007
10.27.2007
10.12.2007
> the newness.....what is entirely real is the going and coming the blather
> effervescent the mention of sweet hereafter the language unending the
> makings and unmakings of people, you know the things that need to be
> annulled the men and women the foundlings the chicklings the starlings and
> the birthlings, the aliens and mulch grass fed to cows in famine the
> water creeping up the tidal basin, the urchins and 5-fingered stars watching as
> i
> consume the great grass of time, the munching of mulch unending the poems
> long before the candle has gone out the picture at the picture show
> capturing dust in the romantic dark. blessed blessed bend at the knee
> skirts down to the ground catching the filth of the floor unswept for some
> time the bell tower bonging and the children playing outside in the
> courtyard during the service their hands too small to carry big things the
> weight of the world yet eternally dying and being reborn all the cliches
> of
> yesteryear and poems for all time the poems of the bible and nonesuch and
> nevermind and nevermore and dunder-miflin.
> effervescent the mention of sweet hereafter the language unending the
> makings and unmakings of people, you know the things that need to be
> annulled the men and women the foundlings the chicklings the starlings and
> the birthlings, the aliens and mulch grass fed to cows in famine the
> water creeping up the tidal basin, the urchins and 5-fingered stars watching as
> i
> consume the great grass of time, the munching of mulch unending the poems
> long before the candle has gone out the picture at the picture show
> capturing dust in the romantic dark. blessed blessed bend at the knee
> skirts down to the ground catching the filth of the floor unswept for some
> time the bell tower bonging and the children playing outside in the
> courtyard during the service their hands too small to carry big things the
> weight of the world yet eternally dying and being reborn all the cliches
> of
> yesteryear and poems for all time the poems of the bible and nonesuch and
> nevermind and nevermore and dunder-miflin.
9.08.2007
On Hunger
No fear can stand up to hunger, no patience can wear it out, disgust
simply does not exist where hunger is; and as to superstition, beliefs,
and what you may call principles, they are less than chaff in a breeze.
Don't you know the devilry of lingering starvation, its exasperating
torment, its black thoughts, its somber and brooding ferocity? Well,
I do. It takes a man all his inborn strength to fight hunger properly.
It's really easier to face bereavement, dishonor, and the perdition of
one's soul--than this kind of prolonged hunger. Sad, but true. And these
chaps too had no earthly reason for any kind of scruple. Restraint! I
would just as soon have expected restraint from a hyena prowling amongst
the corpses of a battlefield. But there was the fact facing me--the fact
dazzling, to be seen, like the foam on the depths of the sea, like a
ripple on an unfathomable enigma, a mystery greater--when I thought
of it--than the curious, inexplicable note of desperate grief in this
savage clamor that had swept by us on the river-bank, behind the blind
whiteness of the fog. - from Conrad, "Heart of Darkness"
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