Here are some quotes and absurdities I have collected along the way by dear souls who could put it better (be it on purpose or not) than I could ever hope to and some music and photos of mine to accompany the words:

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“Now, eighteen months after the first light, three months after the true day, but a very few days after the pure Sun of that most wonderful study began to shine, nothing restrains me; it is my pleasure to taunt mortal men with the candid acknowledgment that I am stealing the golden vessels of the Egyptians to build a tabernacle to my God from them, far, far away from the boundaries of Egypt. If you forgive me, I shall rejoice; if you are enraged with me, I shall bear it. See, I cast the die, and I write the book. Whether it is to be read by the people of the present or of the future makes no difference: let it await its reader for a hundred years, if God Himself has stood ready for six thousand years for one to study Him.” Johannes Kepler, Book V, Harmony of the World

“Then the bells stopped; the world returned, I regained my sight and saw her reborn, strangled, white on the grass, which was green, like bile; she was transformed into a white river pebble, grown into the ground, a bear´s foot bloomed from her armpit, snowdrop bloomed from between her thighs, catkins from a poplar drifted over her light skin, I did not know whether to leave her to be buried in them, or to lay her in a deep whirlpool, or to carry her away and place her in the stone grave above the forest. Should I have lain down beside her and turned into spring grass and willow branches?” Mesa Selimovic

“During this period Artaud was given an ancient knotted cane by the wife of a Dutch painter named Kristians Tonny; she claimed that it had belonged to Saint Patrick in Ireland. It was an impressive object, and Artaud became hugely attached to it. Like the sword he had been given in Cuba, the cane became both a weapon of violence and sign of sexual vulnerability. Artaud began to carry it constantly, and when friends admired the cane , and tried to touch it, he became enraged, complaining that it was if they had tried to grab his penis. He took it to a blacksmiths and had a metal tip welded on it´s end: when he walked along the boulavards striking the cane against the ground, it shot out sparks behind him….” S. Barber Antonin Artaud

“Now, all other sacred trees, plants an herbs have peculiar properties. The alder´s timber is waterproof and its leaves yield a royal red dye; birch is the host of the hallucigenetic fly-cap mushroom; oak and ash attract lightening for a holy fire; the mandrake root is anti-spasmodic. The foxglove yields digitalis which accelerates the beat of the heart; poppies are opiates; ivy has toxic leaves and its flowers provide bees with the last honey of the year. But the berries of the mistletoe, widely known in folklore as an “allheal”, have no medicinal properties, though greedily eaten by wood pigeons and other non migratory birds in winter. The leaves are equally valueless; and the timber, though tough, can be put to few uses. Why then was the mistletoe singled out as the most sacred and curative of plants? The only answer can be that the Druids used it as an emblem of their own peculiar way of thought. Here is a tree that is no tree, but fastens itself alike an oak, apple, poplar, beech, thorn, even pine, grows green, nourishing itself on the topmost branches when the rest of the forest seems asleep, and the fruit of which is credited with curing all spiritual disorders. Lopped sprigs of it are tied to the lintel of a door and invite sudden and surprising kisses. The symbolism is exact, if we can equate Druidic with Sufic thought, which is not planted like a tree, as religions are planted, but self-engrafted on a tree already in existence; it keeps green though the tree itself is alseep. in the sense that religions go dead with formalism; and the main motive power of its growth is love, not ordinary animal passion or domestic affection but a sudden surprising recognition of love so rare and high that the heart seems to sprout wings.” Robert Graves – Introduction to “The Sufis”

“You don’t need to take drugs to hallucinate; improper language can fill your world with phantoms and spooks of many kinds.” Robert A. Wilson

“Sis -Maria Here I sat, waiting, waiting- but for nothing. Beyond good and evil, sometimes enjoying the light, sometimes the shade, completely the play, completely lake, completely noon, completely time without a goal. There, suddenly, my friend! One became two- -And Zarathustra passed my way” Nietzsche

“O mouths man is searching for a new idiom- On which no grammarian anywhere will have a hold…. The word is sudden – a God is trembling” Apollinaire

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“Well you should know that poetry can be found wherever the stupidly derisive smile of the duck-faced man cannot be seen” Lautreamont

“The desire that the female feels for the male resembles the mists rising from the earth toward the sky. Once they have gathered into clouds, it is the sky that waters the earth.” Zohar

“With its receptive, hammering music, “death Fugue” is as direct as verse can be in its approach to its subject. It also makes two huge implicit claims about what poetry in our time is, or should be, capable of. One is that language can measure up to any subject whatsoever: however unspeakable the Holocoust may be, there is a poetry that can speak it. The other is that the German language in particular, corrupted to the bone during the Nazi era by euphemism and a kind of leering doublespeak, is capable of telling the truth about Germany´s immediate past.”
Coetzee on Paul Celan

“Presumably, it would have been wiser to take letters of recommendation , to jot down two or three telephone numbers at least, before going to Istanbul. I didn’t do that. Presumably, it would have made sense to make friends with someone, get into contact, look at the life of the place from the inside, instead of dismissing the local population as an alien crowd, instead of regarding people as so much psychological dust in one’s eyes.Who knows? Perhaps my attitude towards has in its own whiff of the east about it, too. When it comes down to it, where am I from? Still, at a certain age a man gets tired of his own kind, weary of cluttering up his conscious and subconscious. One more, or ten more, tales of cruelty? Another ten, or hundred, examples of human baseness, stupidity, valour? Misanthropy, after all, should also have its limits.
It’s enough, therefore, to glance in the dictionary and find that katorga ( forced labour) is a Russian word, too. And it’s enough to discover on a turkish map somewhere in Anatolia, or Ionia, a town called “Nigde” ( Russian for nowhere).” Joseph Brodsky, Essays

“What we need to do is concentrate on the phenomenon of communication, and the evolution of language. We have been far too naive about the role that language has played in the construction of reality at it’s center, let alone off on the fringes with the elves and the fairies and the UFOs…Each one of us is a-swim in a concatenation of emotionally subtle wave-phenomena that come and go just below the surface of our awareness. But, if any one of us turns to another and says, “How are you doing?” the answer is “Fine, fine, yourself?” This is presenting a tremendous barrier to the expression of our wholeness…” Terence McKenna

“As living information, the plasmate travels up the optic nerve of a human to the pineal body. It uses the human brain as a female host in which to replicate itself into its active form. This is an interspecies symbiosis. The Hermetic alchemists knew of it in theory from ancient texts, but could not duplicate it, since they could not locate the dormant, buried plasmate. Bruno suspected that the plasmate had been destroyed by the Empire; for hinting at this he was burned. “The Empire never ended.” Phillip K. Dick

“The person who is able to see but unable to hear is much more… troubled than the person who is able to hear but unable to see. There is something… characteristic of the big city. The interpersonal relationships of people in big cities are characterized by a markedly greater emphasis on the use of the eyes than on the ears. This can be attributed chiefly to the institution of public conveyance. Before buses, railways and trams became fully established during the 19C, people were never put in the position of having to stare at one another for minutes or even hours on end without exchanging a word.” Georg Simmel

“For me the camera is a sketch book, an instrument of intuition and spontaneity, the master of the instant which, in visual terms, questions and decides simultaneously. In order to “give a meaning” to the world, one has to feel involved in what one frames through the viewfinder. This attitude requires concentration, discipline of mind, sensitivity, and a sense of geometry. It is by economy of means that one arrives at simplicity of expression.To take a photograph is to hold one´s breath when all faculties converge in a face of fleeing reality. It is at that moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy.To take a photograph means to recognize simultaneously and within a fraction of a second both the fact itself and the rigorous organisation of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. It is putting one´s head, one´s eye, and one´s heart on the same axis.” Cartier-Bresson

“Dear sir, I have safely received the recording of the “Birds of New Zealand”. It is marvellous! I particularly appreciated the exraordinary songs of the Tui, the Bellbird, the Riroriro (grey warbler), the Kiwi, the Kea, the wood-rail Weka, the Takahe (notornis) etc. etc. This present gives me immense pleasure. Thank you with all my heart! With very great gratitude. ” Olivier Messiaen

“Pac-Man kill screen is an area of deep controversy. Usually, the game just stops and goes blank. Occasionally, however, between one and eight additional levels will materialize, seemingly at random. Out there, the game breaks down, like the laws of physics in a black hole. There are upside-down mazes, blank boards, invisible ghosts. It was there, Billy told me in Florida, that he saw Pokey turn into Ms. Pac-Man herself, a disturbing
collision of antipodes. “If I didn’t have pictures you’ wouldn’t believe it,” he said. “You’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be.” ” Joshuah Bearman

“And I think that whole business of control is very important. One wants to be in control of society, one wants to be in control of art. One wants to be in control, control, control. Now, just because the control is for something that’s on the good side, it’s still control. … See, when you get into society, you see the big dilemma in society I think was expressed beautifully by Camus, where he says that one man, when he desires freedom, will be at the expense of others. In other words, one man’s freedom makes someone else a victim. You understand? And I feel the same way in music, that if you’re idealistic, and you insist that music be a certain way, then it’s at the expense of the music. If you use the music for means, then it becomes a polemical thing.” Morton Feldman

“”What can one transmit? How and to whom to transmit? These are questions that every person who has inherited from the tradition asks himself, because he inherits at the same time a kind of duty: to transmit that which he has himself received. “What part has research in a tradition? To what extent should a tradition of a work on oneself or to speak by analogy, of a yoga or of an inner life be at the same time an investigation, a research that takes with each generation a step ahead? “In a branch of Tibetan Buddhism it is said that a tradition can live if the new generation goes a fifth ahead in respect to the preceding generation, without forgetting or destroying its discoveries.” Grotowski

“Remember you cannot abandon what you do not know. To go beyond yourself, you must know yourself” Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

“But certainly for the present age, which prefers the sign to the thing signified, the copy to the original, representation to reality, the appearance to the essence… illusion only is sacred, truth profane. Nay, sacredness is held to be enhanced in proportion as truth decreases and illusion increases, so that the highest degree of illusion comes to be the highest degree of sacredness.” Feuerbach

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from an interview with Daniel Ried : “Some people say that it is wrong to use electricity to create ionized water…
Dan Reid: So what would that mean to the ocean, to the lakes, to the reservoirs? I have heard that argument, but I don’t see what they are saying. Are they saying that water shouldn’t have electricity in it? Water is the finest conductor in the world! And these Ionizers like mine control it exactly using an onboard computer. I think they are trying on the idea that technology is bad, just to make their point. Hey, I’m a Luddite, but I’m also high on technology, because we have to understand that electricity is one of the most basic parts of our universe!
There is nothing more ‘natural’ than electricity! You have only a few energies that run this planet; solar, gravity, electricity, so let’s extend their argument to all these forms. Take sunlight. Does sunlight damage water? Why should electricity? Water and electricity have been interacting symbiotically for countless millions of years, in fact that’s how life began, with a lightning strike into water carrying carbon substances, passing on energy and causing the very first life-sustaining reactions! Without electric input energizing water, water will remain inert. So the whole point of putting electricity into it is to give it life. Electricity is a life force. If you don’t believe it, put a voltmeter to your body. It’s what makes your nerves work! A chemical reaction creates an electrical impulse. It’s totally compatible with blood, body fluids, water. I don’t know what they think they are talking about. It isn’t adding anything to the water. There is no chemical added. It’s about the purest method of water treatment there is.”

“The future is the present projected. Our notions of the future have something of that significance which Freud attributes to our dreams. And not our notions of the future only: our notions of the past as well. For if prophecy is an expression of our contemporary fears and wishes, so too, to a very great extent, is history.” Aldous Huxley

: “Bliss—a-second-by-second joy and gratitude at the gift of being alive, conscious—lies on the other side of crushing, crushing boredom. Pay close attention to the most tedious thing you can find (Tax Returns, Televised Golf) and, in waves, a boredom like you’ve never known will wash over you and just about kill you. Ride these out, and it’s like stepping from black and white into color. Like water after days in the desert. Instant bliss in every atom” David Foster Wallace

“Some wicked women, perverted by the devil, seduced by illusions and phantasms of demons, believe and profess themselves in the hours of night, to ride upon certain beastes with Diana, the goddess of pagans,
and an innumerable multitude of women, and in the silence of the dead of night to traverse great spaces of earth, and to obey her commands as of their mistress, and to be summoned to her service on certain nights.
But I wish it were they alone who perished in their faithlessness and did not draw many with them into the destruction of infidelity. For an innumerable multitude, deceived by this false opinion, believe this to be
true, and so believing, wander from the right faith and are invalued in the error of the pagans…” Canon Episcopi

“I wanted to be able to look at a mountain and play the mountain. I used to tell my friends that, and just like you, they said, “what do you mean? You mean being inspired by the mountain?” I said, “no, not just inspired. Of course I’m inspired by it, but I want to play the mountain, literally, play the mountain.” They said, “well, what do you mean by that?” I said, “I want to look at the mountain and see something like notation and be able to play it.” They thought I was crazy. They would just dismiss what I was saying. But I was serious. I wanted to be able to look at the flight pattern of a bee, the flight pattern of a bird, and play that. Or have that directly influence my music, so almost be able to look at nature as one big gesture. You can call it notation. I mean, what is notation? It’s a bunch of symbols that tell you, don’t do this, do this. But I wanted to be able to look at life with my eyes as well as with my ears and be able to translate that into sound. That was, and still is, one of my biggest things.” Steve Coleman

“Back in his van, we talk about what is known in classic-gaming argot as the “kill screen.” This is the edge of the universe, the place where instructions end. Billy has seen a lot of kill screens. Pac-Man comes to a halt at level 256, as the program runs out of code and the entire right side of the screen is engulfed by senseless symbols. Circus Charlie just freezes. Donkey Kong ends after five seconds on level 22. Then there is Galaga, which eventually closes in solitude. After everything comes nothing: No enemy armada. “No music. No score. Just you and the existential void. Other games end in violence. In BurgerTime, Billy says, the kill screen came at level 28, which he describes as the most chaotic moment he has ever experienced. The fried egg and hot dog and pickles chased him around so aggressively that Billy took it as a cruelly encoded joke. That did not prevent him from attempting to breach BurgerTime’s event horizon. Everyone said it was impossible, but he had to know: Is there more? With Pac-Man, there has always been a powerful appeal surrounding the notion of “The Doorway”-a prospective passageway to the other side, a way past level 256.”" Joshuah Bearman

“Well, I feel a failure because … One of my complaints about the younger generation … is that for me at least sound was the hero, and it still is. I feel that I’m subservient. I feel that I listen to my sounds, and I do what they tell me, not what I tell them. Because I owe my life to these sounds. Right? They gave me a life. And my feeling is in a sense is the young people … instead of thinking of sound as a hero, of experience as the hero, you get to think that they’re the heroes. And I find a little bit too much drawing attention to themselves … in their work, drawing attention to their ideas, whether they’re anti-society, or whether it’s political.” Morton Feldman

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“A certain old woman, out of excessive curiosity, fell out of a window, plummeted to the ground, and was smashed to pieces. Another old woman leaned out of the window and began looking at the remains of the first one, but she also, out of excessive curiosity, fell out of the window, plummeted to the ground and was smashed to pieces. Then a third old woman plummeted from the window, then a fourth, then a fifth.By the time a sixth old woman had plummeted down, I was fed up watching them, and went off to Mal’tsevisky Market where, it was said, a knitted shawl had been given to a certain blind man.” Daniil Charms

“Journalism gives us a simple moral world, where a group of perpetrators face a group of victims, but where neither history nor motivation is thinkable because both are outside history and context. Even when newspapers highlight violence as a social phenomenon, they fail to understand the forces that shape the agency of the perpetrator. Instead, they look for a clear and uncomplicated moral that describes the victim as untainted and the perpetrator as simply evil. Where yesterday´s victims are today´s perpetrators, where victims have turned perpetrators, this attempt to find an African replay of the Holocaust not only does not work but also has perverse consequences. Whatever its analytical weaknesses, the depoliticisation of violence has given its proponents distinct political advantages.” Mahmood Mamdani

“Dear Nicholas Armfelt ,thank you with all my heart for your cassette of New Zealand birdsongs. I have listened to it several times, with joy. The Kokako is very original, with its sliding descending notes, and its deep note that swells in a cescendo up to a high shrill sound. I like the glissando trembling in a cascade, like cascading water, of the Kea. The Tui utters sounds that are sometimes flutelike, at other times grating, absolutely extraordinary. I also like the Bellbird, the Nototnis, the Riroriro, the strange and primitive calls of the North Island Kiwi, the cretic rhythms and cooings of the Yellowhead, the deep boom of the Kakapo.” Olivier Messiaen.

“Well, to me, ‘new’ is another one of these illusions, like freedom. There is no new, there is no freedom. My goal is certainly not to create something new. My goal is almost to create something old. This may sound strange, but I mean it maybe in a different way. I’ll explain it. The life that we live, the planet that we’re living on, is very, very old. I’m not going to come up with something new, outside of what I am, because it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with what we are. This goes into what you believe about life and everything, what you believe created everything, or if it was created. But, whether you think things are created by something or not, whatever happened, we can agree that something happened. In other words, some people can say there is a God and God created such-and-such, and they think of God as some old man in the sky with superpowers. Some people think of God as some kind of energy, a living energy that is in everything, in the universe. Some people think there is no God at all, that things just happen accidentally. But, on a cosmic level, it really doesn’t matter what your opinion is. What happened, happened. It happened regardless of what you believe. So, if you believe that there is a spirit in the tree that created everything, that’s your thing. That doesn’t change the fact of where you came from, and the fact of where the tree came from. The only thing that I am fairly sure of is that what created the tree also created me. What created the planet, created me, whatever that was. I can talk about that in broad terms. I myself, as Steve Coleman, as whatever I think I am, had little to do with that. My beliefs go deeper than this, but the general thing is that I believe there is a kind of energy that is a part of all of us, and it gets expressed in an individual way through each of us. ” Steve Coleman

“To me nonplaces are so to speak are grey areas, the superfluous space that´s been neglected before they built containers, single family homes and so on, to speak visually. But what I mean is psychological. A primary state of enjoyment that isn´t integrated to social life, not conveyable to a public. It´s some kind of psychic automatism, because there are no categories for it. It is like children playing a game, but the term game is incorrect as it implies rules. What I mean is a game that is improvised, once the rules are found the game is probably becoming competitive and predictable. The geographic aspects don´t matter so much, it´s the music that contains too much diverse intercultural, universal or abstract ethnic components to be contained under a genre. Look, once jazz symbolized freedom, for individual musicians. It got to accommodate unpredictable artistic utterances that were mostly identifiable by the artist´s personal name. Now, even jazz calls a stylistic palette and is not appropriate anymore for new developments, although these developments still take place. Unfortunately this progress isn´t perceived under the term jazz anymore, simply because the ingredients that made jazz have been clarified (the rules to the game) by communication, media, marketing. Jazz can now also be appropriated easily by meaningless virtuosos. I mean, by knowing what jazz offers, that primary enjoyment of something new, that radical, experimental grey area has vanished with the immersion of commodities and the affirmative learning of Jazz by wannabees and sound-a-likes. To me as a dilettante, Nonplace is a free-formula. Sometimes I deliberately use significant cliches to ridicule their content (see: just landed- hyperreal dub band), but my interest is to overcome such cliches. This may have a bitter taste because the label releases also soothing and entertaining music. However, I know that it makes the marketing of nonplace products more complicated to save the music from one determination.” Burnt Friedman

“Behind every glorious facade there is always hidden something ugly. When you read, that those wonderful, democratic Germans are selling entire factiories of sarin gas to Khaddafi, you no longer wish to write romantic stories in the mood of William Wharton. I always used to hope, that the world goes advances in the right direction. Now I’ve lost that hope. People make filthy things with the freedom they regained.” Stanislaw Lem

“TS- The secret of that is very simple. I regard freediving as a competitive sport, therefore I train very hard,almost every day. When I reached the point last year when my new goal became Martin Stepanek’s world record of 8’06”, I realized that I had to change my training routine. I had to increase my training intensity. For two weeks I trained every day. I had to organize helpers for my training, so I asked my friends and I rounded up a helper for each day. Like other parts of the body, lungs can be trained, too.
I stretched my lungs, and they adapted to it. I packed 20-30 times, and after two weeks of intensive training, I reached 8’06″. Then, in February 2004, I trained for three weeks, packed 40 times, and I did 8’58”. Now my personal best is 9’46”. It all comes down to training hard enough. However, maybe that packing can have a long-term effect on me. That’s the thing I am most worried about. Hopefully, I will know more after the February medical checks.
AK- How do you suppress the mental and physical urges to come up and take a deep breath?
TS- My dives can be divided into two sections. The first five minutes, and the four following ones. In the first five minutes, the focus is on the mental relaxation. It’s like trying to go to sleep at night. First, the thought about your dinner with your girlfriend last night pops up, then you slowly try to clear your mind. You try to relax, you take a deep breath – well, the latter does not apply in my case… after about five minutes the mind is clear and I concentrate solely on my body. That’s when the body starts to give signs, my muscles start to contract. Interestingly, it is most intensive in my left calf. I try to focus on relaxing every muscle – during the second section of my dive, my main focus is on the body.” Excerpt from interview with Free diver Tom Sietas

“Electric, magnetic and gravitational interactions between matter are mediated by energy. Patterns of energy associated with matter are postulated as being provided by life force. Consequently, the interactions would appear to be between the energy patterns, rather than between the particles of the bodies themselves. Life force is not part of our three-dimensional space but, residing as it were in hyperspace it is, as discussed above, one step above the dimensionaltiy of space. It is not bound to travel “through space” and thus is capable of manifesting it’s effects in distant and diverse locations at the same instant. Consequently, interactions that are energy-pattern interactions are not limited by speed of light.” Josef Hasslberger

“Christians seldom assess their world by making a direct comparison with the gospel story. Instead, as with all cultures and their myths, coded formulations reduce the mythic mode to attitudes, gestures, and cliches for negotiating the everyday world. A partial list of adjectives that express Christian mentality can illustrate the point. Christians grant privilege to personal performances and events that are unique, dramatic, original, charismatic, miraculous, radical, transformational, and apocalyptic. All else is considered banal by comparison. [...] With the gospels in place, one might note, the symbols for solving critical problems are a vicarious crucifixion at the beginning and an apocalyptic destruction at the end. Both coalesce in a meditation on destructive violence and creative transformation. The Jesus of Q hardly stands a chance of being recognized within this symbolic world.” [Mack, The Lost Gospel, p. 250]

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“In order to rally people, governments need enemies. They want us to be afraid, to hate, so we will rally behind them. And if they do not have a real enemy, they will invent one in order to mobilize us.” Thich Nhat Hanh

“It is a sobering thought that better evidence is required to prosecute a shoplifter than is needed to commence a world war.” Anthony Scrivener

“Naturally, the common people don’t want war … but after all it is the leaders of a country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship.Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in every country.” Hermann Goering

“But I found something that was very interesting in making music with mechanics and programs. If you understand it right, you can make it come to life when you create a tension between the machine and you. As long a you can manage this, it will be interesting. But most of the music I hear today, you don’t hear that. After a few listens it starts to sound boring because it has no secret anymore, because the sound that is programmed always sounds the same. Nobody works on the dynamics of the sound so it becomes monotonous. It’s easier to program than to get a musician in to play it right, so you produce more. So instead of producing less and having good musicians, they produce more and more, like a factory. It’s like a music industrial revolution, like they produce cars. They produce music in the same way. When you look at old cars, they were handmade and it was something really interesting as a piece of art. When you take a car today, you don’t have these feelings about it. It’s just a throw-away product” Conny Plank

A cry from a distant Violin :

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“Many are they who are touched at the heart by these things. Those they sent forth they knew; now in place of the young men urns and ashes are carried home to the houses of the fighters…. The citizens speak: their voice is dull with hatred. The curse of the people must be paid for.” Agamemnon Aeschlus

“So let us regard this as settled: what is morally wrong can never be advantageous, even when it enables you to make some gain that you believe to be to your advantage. The mere act of believing that some wrongful course of action constitutes an advantage is pernicious.” Cicero

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“What’s happening is part of a phenomenon I wrote about a couple of years ago when I was asked to comment on Rowling. I went to the Yale University bookstore and bought and read a copy of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.” I suffered a great deal in the process. The writing was dreadful; the book was terrible. As I read, I noticed that every time a character went for a walk, the author wrote instead that the character “stretched his legs.” I began marking on the back of an envelope every time that phrase was repeated. I stopped only after I had marked the envelope several dozen times. I was incredulous. Rowling’s mind is so governed by cliches and dead metaphors that she has no other style of writing.” Harold Bloom

“I left him alone, that was the most sensible. Protected by his madness, he was stronger that all of us” Mesa Selimovic

“Where are you, Harun?
Where are you, all you lost and murdered brothers?
Why do they separate us when we are separated anyway? Is it so that we will realise it? Or so that we will begin to hate, if we do not know how to love?” Mesa Selimovic

“Our physical world is said to be three-dimensional, with reference to the basic three degrees of freedom of movement we find to exist in a right-angle-co-ordinated cube-based spatial reference system as first proposed by Descartes (up-down, left-right and forward-backward, to express this in simple terms). Although I assent to use the word three-dimensional to indicate physical space, I have shown(2) that one could with profit describe physical space in a four-dimensional tetrahedron-based spatial reference system just by changing from 90 degree co-ordination to 60 degree co-ordination. The advantage of such a system would be an immediate orientability in physical space having to consider only four vectors, instead of six vectors (as above) of the Cartesian system. The word three-dimensional, although in general use, is thus not an indication of any real physical properties inherent in space. It is merely a conventional way of looking at and describing space, based in Euclidean geometry. In fact, Euclid taught a progression from point (dimensionless) to line (one-dimensional) to plane (two-dimensional) and finally to space (three-dimensional). I propose that this system of geometry does not have any real physical significance and is merely an abstract way of conceptualising physical space. We may however use Euclid’s concept of the (two-dimensional) plane and it’s relation to (three-dimensional) space as an analogy useful to the understanding of what follows here. As inhabitants of physical (“three-dimensional”) space we would have an inherent advantage over a hypothetical inhabitant of a two-dimensional universe contained within our universe. We would in fact be able to observe, from our vantage point, any point of the plane and thus would be able to accede to any point of that universe without having to “travel it’s space” like the inhabitant of the two-dimensional universe. This, to our two-dimensional friend, would be somewhat of a miracle, he would call it “instantaneous action at a distance” on our part. In this same way, we should imagine a “four-dimensional” entity to exist, which contains within itself our “three-dimensional” universe and which has a similar advantage of being able to accede to and act at any point in our space, without having to traverse our space in the way we need to traverse space to arrive at our destination. I believe that one could call that “four-dimensional” entity hyperspace.” Josef Hasslberger

“Among wolves one should howl” Dr Ivan Sibir

“I think new music now again is used to draw attention to themselves or their ideas …Sound perhaps is dead. Maybe sound was just the fifties and the sixties. Maybe sound just dropped dead, or will drop dead with me, or will drop dead with Cage. Anyway, it was a marvelous period as long as it lasted. For the first time in history sound was free. But, like most people, they don’t want freedom. They don’t know how to handle it. With Cage freedom became license, so they could act like idiots.” Morton Feldman

According to a June 2007 article in Discover Magazine, the combined weight of all the electrons moved within the the internet in a day is 0.2 millionths of an ounce.

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes” Marcel Proust

“Oceania was at war with Eurasia; therefore Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia.”
1984, George Orwell

“By this point you´ve almost certainly discerned the Story of Infinity´s overall dynamic, whereby certain paradoxes give rise to conceptual advances that can handle those original paradoxes but in turn give rise to new paradoxes, which then generate further conceptual advances, and so on.” David Foster Wallace Everything and More

“The Logos was both that which thought, and the thing which it thought: thinker and thought together. The universe, then, is thinker and thought, and since we are part of it, we as humans are, in the final analysis, thoughts of and thinkers of those thoughts.” Philip K. Dick

“Time is a social construction which is used to measure motion through space in order to control it and bind it to a social context.” The Liberation of Motion Through Space

“The tripalium is an instrument of torture. The Latin word labor means “suffering”. We are unwise to forget this origin of the words “travail” and “labour”". Raoul Vaneigem

“Sacred cows make the best hamburger.” Mark Twain

“When Billy finally demonstrates his technologies, I am shocked by how much they differ from the vagaries of ordinary game play. Billy notes my awe as he gracefully navi- gates the first few screens. He says it has always been this way. Even the Namco personnel in Japan were astonished. “They kept asking me to do things over and over,” he says. “They had no idea. The programmers created the game but don’t know how it falls together.” The sound is turned down, and without the audio, the game’s movements become mesmerizing. Billy’s movements reveal obscure geometries, like mandalas or the labyrinth of Chartres. The ghosts unite, unravel, and reunite, collapsing Pac-Man’s chaotic dynamics into purposeful, pulsing harmony. Chris also watches, savoring Billy’s poetic turns. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.” Joshuah Bearman

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.” Thomas Jefferson

“An idea is something you have; an ideology is something that has you.” Morris Berman

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“Christian religion began appropriately enough therefore, with an apocalyptic vision of the past, but in the aftermath of the last deep penetrations, once the apparent danger had passed, truth was converted to mythology in the hands of a revisionist church and such prior knowledge of the swarm as existed, which now comes to us through the works of Plato and others, was later systematically suppressed. Subsequently the Christian vision of a permanent peace on Earth was by no means universally accepted, and it was to undergo several stages of “enlightenment” before it culminated with our present secular version of history, to which science itself subscribes, perceiving little or no danger from the sky. The lack of danger is an illusion, however, and the long arm of an early Christian delusion still has its effect.” Victor Clube

“I wanted to ask the old man, and I would have to at some point, how far he would go for his son, and what he would betray. And what would his love turn into if his son ever perished? That would be the deepest hatred I know of.
This love was the only thing that existed in his life, it and nothing else. Even on his deathbed, waiting to breathe his last, he still cherished it. And maybe it also sustained him, kept him alive. Maybe that was the deep and complex cunning of old age, the fear of death turned into love, so that the last buds would flower in his aged heart. A son´s heart is like a bush of flowers that you do not have to dung so it will flourish; a father´s love is just one of those many flowers. Maybe it is even an obstacle, a bother imposed by duty. But it is an old man´s only anchor.
I say: maybe, because I do not know.” Mesa Selimovic

“Remember the shaman when he used to say Man is the dream of the dolphin” -Unkown

“Aleister Crowley has achieved the reputation of being a master of the English language. This book which is as fresh and vibrant today as when it was penned over thirty years ago demonstrates this fact. It shows how impossible it is to categorize him as a particular kind of stylist. At turns he can be satirical, poetical, sarcastic, rhetorical, philosophical or mystical, gliding so easily from one to the other that the average reader is hard put to determine whether or not to take him at face value.” I. Regardie

“Twinkle, twinkle little star
I don’t wonder what you are,
For by spectroscopic ken,
I know that you are hydrogen.”
Ian Bush

“They´re a clever people,” he told me once, with the strange mix of sarcasm and seriousness that so often perplexed me. “They get their idleness form the East and their nice life from the West; they´re in no hurry, because life itself is in a hurry; they´re not interested in seeing what tomorrow will bring, what´s destined to come, and few things depend on them; they come together only when they´re in difficulties, and therefor they don´t like to be together often; they hardly trust anyone, but they´re most easily deceived with pretty words; they don´t look like heroes, but they´re most difficult to frighten with threats; for a long time they won´t pay attention to anything, they won´t care about what´s happening around them, and then, all of a sudden everything matters to them, they mess with everything and turn everything on it´s head; then they doze off again, and don´t want to remember anything that´s ha`èned; they´re afraid of change because it often brings misfortune, and they easily get annoyed with one man, even if he´s done them good. A strange people. They´ll talk behind your back and love you; they´ll kiss your cheek and hate you; they´ll ridicule noble deeds and remember them for generations; they live by spite and generosity and you never know which will prevail when. Bad, good, gentle, cruel, lethargic, tempestuous, open, closed- they´re all of that and everything in between. And on top of all everything, they´re mine and I´m theirs, like a river and a drop of water, and everything I´ve said about them I might as well say about myself” Mesa Selimovic

“Recent history is the record of one vast conspiracy to impose one level of mechanical consciousness on mankind.” Allen Ginsburg

“It has, as mentioned above, the drawback of implicitly defining modern conventional Western tuning as a universal standard. Since the conventional Western tuning of 12 equal semitones per octave did not even come into wide usage until roughly 300 years ago, and now seems to be going the way of the dodo and the passenger pigeon as more and more young composers use laptops and softsynths to generate music in tunings far outside anything inconventional western music, it becomes inadvisable to declare as a universal bedrock that which seems more like quicksand. As the history of all musical cultures shows, music changes, and often quite radically. The granite monuments deemed absolute for eternity in one musical era often vanish like smoke in the desert, leaving behind hardly a trace of their existence — as the transformation of Western music proves. Western music started as an entirely melodic monophonic choral form based on pairs of conjoined tetraktys (sets of 4 notes) based on the number 4, and not recognizing triads as musical structures. In the early middle ages, Western music changed to a Pythagorean diatonic 7 note system based on the number 3 with occasional dyads involving perfect fifths, perfect fourths, and octaves (fauxbourdon). During the later middle ages, Western music changed yet again to a 12 note system of medieval modes in which the vertical perfect fourth became recognized as a point of musical stasis, while the major third was used as a musical dissonance but the major second was allowed as semi-consonance (Gothic era of Perotinus and Longinus). During the Renaissance period, these rules turned upside down, and tertian triadic harmony was employed for the first time, along with prohibitions against using the fourth as the final cadence because it was now judged a musical dissonance, while the major third became a musical consonance. Such radical transformations in Western musical usage over the years have continued to the present day, when such innovations as tone clusters, synthesizers, xenharmonic tunings, algorithmic composition, extended performance techniques, homebuilt instruments and sonification of non-musical datasets (as in The Earth’s Magnetic Field by Charles Dodge) have in the 21st century become commonplace. Given the fact of such transilient change in Western music, it seems unwise to declare one particular aspect of Western music as a universal standard by which all other musics everywhere on the planet ought to be measured.” Maclaren

“I would not have liked to see them destroyed; my hatred waned whenever my thoughts- even involuntarily, without obeying me- went farther than I wanted. And for hatred, as well as for love, one needs living people.” Mesa Selimovic

“It takes years to explain those vibrational things in verbal language. And it still might not work. One time I asked Von Freeman about his voice-leading in harmony, he’s the master of that shit. I asked him, “How did you learn that shit? You’re so fluent at it.” And he said, “Well, you know, I sat down one day and I said, let me look at this thing.” He said, “I began with one tone. I studied one tone. And I studied all that I could study about one tone.” When these old guys talk, you don’t ask too many questions. You pretty much just listen to what they say. And so, I didn’t know what he meant, but I just listened. And he said, “I worked on that for a long time, you know, for months. Just seeing what could be done with one tone. When I felt pretty good about that, I moved on to two tones. That was a bit harder. I worked a lot longer, but I worked and saw all that I could do with two tones. Then I moved to three tones, and so on. After I went on for a while I realized that you can pretty much do everything that you need to do with two tones.” That’s what he told me. I spent years thinking about this shit. Years. I’m still thinking about it, you know. I feel like I have a better handle on knowing what he meant now than then, although it is not a simple thing to explain. And when I tell the story to somebody playing in my group or something, and they ask me, “What did he mean?” it takes me literally years to explain what I think he means. And I’m sure I only have part of what he means. What it means to me. Some things, you have to explain them with a million examples over a period of time. The meaning dawns on a person and when they have to explain it it’s funny. We live in this McDonald’s type society where everybody thinks everything is just quick. It’s not like that. You have to actually build the understanding, slowly over time. So this thing that Von Freeman explained to me, it sounds like a very simple thing, but it really doesn’t make any sense at all without the experience. It’s maybe fifteen years ago that he told me, and I found it to be absolutely true. I could never explain it in one day, or in a lecture over an hour.” Steve Coleman

“What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man! Who can endure toil, famine, stripes, imprisonment and death itself in vindication of his own liberty, and the next moment … inflict on his fellow men a bondage, one hour of which is fraught with more misery than ages of that which he rose in rebellion to oppose.” Thomas Jefferson

“The men the American people admire most extravagantly are the most daring liars; the men they detest most violently are those who try to tell them the truth.” Henry Louis Mencken

“The post station was a strange place. I remembered it for its smell of horses and manure, and for the strange men who show up from nowhere and leave for somewhere, for the absent gazes in the empty eyes of travellers who send their thoughts ahead like an advance guard, or drag them behind themselves like luggage; they are lost, like exiles.” Mesa Selimovic

“The most effective means of preventing tyranny is to illuminate, as far as practicable, the minds of the people at large, and more especially to give them knowledge of those facts.” Thomas Jefferson

“There was an evil magician. He lived deep in the mountains and the forests, and he had thousands of sheep. But the problem was that the sheep were afraid of the magician because every day the sheep were seeing that one of them was being killed for his breakfast, another was being killed for his lunch. So they ran away from the magician’s ranch and it was a difficult job to find them in the vast forest. Being a magician, he used magic.
He hypnotized all the sheep and suggested to them first of all that they were immortal and that no harm was being done to them when they were skinned, that, on the contrary, it would be very good for them and even pleasant; secondly he suggested that the magician was a good master who loved his flock so much that he was ready to do anything in the world for them; and in the third place he suggested to them that if anything at all were going to happen to them it was not going to happen just then, at any rate not that day, and therefore they had no need to think about it.
He then told different sheep…to some, “You are a man, you need not be afraid. It is only the sheep who are going to be killed and eaten, not you. You are a man just like I am.” Some other sheep were told, “You are a lion — only sheep are afraid. They escape, they are cowards. You are a lion; you would prefer to die than to run away. You don’t belong to these sheep. So when they are killed it is not your problem. They are meant to be killed, but you are the most loved of my friends in this forest.” In this way, he told every sheep different stories, and from the second day, the sheep stopped running away from the house.
They still saw other sheep being killed, butchered, but it was not their concern. Somebody was a lion, somebody was a tiger, somebody was a man, somebody was a magician and so forth. Nobody was a sheep except the one who was being killed. This way, without keeping servants, he managed thousands of sheep. They would go into the forest for their food, for their water, and they would come back home, believing always one thing: “It is some sheep who is going to be killed, not you. You don’t belong to the sheep. You are a lion — respected, honored, a friend of the great magician.” The magician’s problems were solved and the sheep never ran away again.’ In Search of the Miraculous Ospensky

“Until then, time had been a sea that swelled slowly between the great shores of duration. Now it resembled the swift current of a river that carried moments irretrievably away. I could not lose even a single one, a different possibility was tied tied to each of them….I had measured out every moment that would appear out of the future´s darkness, as well as the deed with which I would impregnate it so that what I wanted would happen, when everything would be linked in a chain of causes and effects.” Mesa Selimovic

“The perfect man employs his mind as a mirror. It grasps nothing; it refuses nothing. It receives, but does not keep.” Chuang-tzu

“Backwards, that means something.” Marcel Duchamp

“…. And again I come round to the idea of possibilities: with this understanding absolutely ANYTHING is possible and ABSOLUTE nothingness is possible too. The fundamental understanding of Rigpa, the nature of mind, allows us to understand that we don’t exist. Once those poor souls caught in the paradigm of scientific thought realize how they have limited themselves by invoking scientific rules to try and understand phenomena that goes beyond the parameters, of science they will have tools that will explain the nature of this new reality in terms that they are familiar with.” -unknown

“Struggling to describe his playing, Abdner once said that he tries to make “logic out of chaos.” There, on the screen, is the most logic yet created from Ms. Pac-Man, the strongest signal.to emerge from the noise: 933,580. But it doesn’t last; Ms. Pac-Man’s kill screen erases everything almost instantly. A quick flash of kaleidoscopic static appears, and then the machine resets.” Joshuah Bearman

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In a very brief address to his students, Siji Tzu gave his simple rules to living life to the fullest by following simple routine and never expecting a result from the day. The setting for this lecture is beneath the great oak that Siji Tzu often meditated under. About 50 of his students gathered to ask on the life of a sage. On practicing no-mind and Wu-Wei. The students gather about Siji Tzu as he kneels before them, on their level :
“It has been asked of me many times over the years on how to live the life of Wu-Wei. It has been asked how I live my life day-to-day, moon-to-moon.You would have received a more direct answer if you asked the tree behind me, as it lives a more perfect life in the Dao than I can ever dream of.If you close your eyes right now and listen to the tree, you will have the answer. Think on the answer and it will vanish. See the tree and you are not asking the right question. Ask the question and you have already failed.

If you understand this, then go back to Albania. You need no more words. If you do not understand then you are thinking too hard. The words I give here describe my day. My life. But they are not my day or my life.

Capture a bumblebee as he gathers nectar and ask how he lives his life and if he has regrets. He will sting your arse. Ask me again and I may hit you. This is the same.No-mind cannot be described in character. It cannot be painted on the canvas or told to you in story. I have lectured many times on the concepts of no-mind, but in reality, the lecture is of no use. I just offer what you ask for.We grow to recognize form. We grow to label that form. In doing so, do we become more intelligent? Do we become more awakened? Does the bumblebee have a word for you? Does it matter? Do not answer this.

Having no-mind is giving up form. Do you see the bumblebee? Do you see me? How are we different? How are we the same? I dare you to answer me!

Neither can be explained with words. Fables, stories, books; all words. They mean nothing. It is the sip of tea that is real.And now that I have spoken on having no-mind, I will tell you of my life using words. Though no-mind is an ideal way, words are necessary to relay messages.

I am no one special. I am you and you are I. We are this tree. This tree is the Universe. And the Universe is the Dao. We are of nothingness. We are everything. And each morning I awake. I do my work and then I rest.You ask how I do my work if I practice Wu-Wei? Doing nothing does not mean being lazy. You must be a living part of your society.

My day ends as simply as it begins. The work between the start and end of my day does not waiver. I awake five minutes before the sun each morning. I gather water from the well and heat it. As the sun kisses the horizon, I sip from my morning tea and have a small line in silent meditation.

I awaken the spirit of my body with Yoga stretches. I do this to prepare my body for the day. I do this with no mind. An inflexible body is as useful as an inflexible tree. Better used as kindling.

After more silent meditation, I nourish my body with the fruits of nature. Exotic foods are not necessary. Everything you need is local to you. While partaking in nature’s bounty, I find it relaxing to read from the old texts. A quote or two to ponder for the day.With my mind and body in pure condition, I set off for my daily work or play. Work need not be tiring or monotonous to be useful. But what vocation you choose, give to it entirely. I take breaks from work to do nothing. I sit in quietness and am still.

When my work is done I think no further on it that day. It will be there for me the next time.I find time each day to exercise the body through martial arts. Yoga for my spirit. Books for my mind. Martial Arts for my body.

I spend the evening at home and do not desire to travel to other places. I eat a simple meal and do not live to extravagance. This is the simple key.When I read, it is for knowledge. When I sit in silence, it is for wisdom.When I travel, I do not leave my village. When I shop, it is in local markets.I do not have an excess of anything. Some would say I have too little. Yet each day I try to get rid of something else. I will not indulge.I try to talk to many people each day. But never do I speak without being asked. Any word I give is true and from my heart. If I do not live it, I will not speak it.I will welcome the richest king and the poorest beggar into my home. They may both drink from the same teacup.

When I sleep, I do not stir, for my mind is clear as a lake.

This is how I live my life. These are the words that describe my day. But they are not my day. This is not a complicated life; this is not an easy life. But it is my life.

Enjoy your life with all your heart. Wake up each morning with the sun. Go to bed each night after a full days work.

The planets will still orbit.” Siji Tzu

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“With limited, if any, knowledge and distorted perceptions of the nature of the spirit world, the non-physical reality, many people leave themselves open and create their own vulnerability as part of creating their own reality” William Baldwin

“And now they waited in fear for his hand, which had become as heavy as lead overnight, to fall on them, a hand pregnant with many deaths.” Mesa Selimovic

“Yellow, shrivelled leaves were falling from the trees, the same ones I had touched the previous spring, wishing for their sap to flow into me, wishing to become unfeeling like a plant, to wilt every autumn and to bloom every spring. But you see, it happened differently, I had wilted in the spring and was blooming in the autumn.
It´s begun, brother Harun, the long awaited hour has begun.” Mesa Selimovic

“The instrument that mediates between theory and practice, between thought and observation, is mathematics; it builds the bridge and makes it stronger and stronger. Thus it happens that our entire present day culture, to the degree that it reflects intellectual achievement and the harnessing of nature, is founded on mathematics. GALILEO said long ago: Only he can understand nature who has learned the language and signs by which it speaks to us; this language is mathematics and its signs are mathematical figures. KANT declared, “I maintain that in each natural science there is only as much true science as there is mathematics.” In fact, we don’t master a theory in natural science until we have extracted its mathematical kernel and laid it completely bare. Without mathematics today’s astronomy and physics would be impossible; in their theoretical parts, these sciences unfold directly into mathematics. These and numerous other applications give mathematics whatever authority it enjoys with the general public.
Nevertheless, all mathematicians have refused to let applications serve as the standard of value for mathematics. GAUSS spoke of the magical attraction that made number theory the favorite science for the first mathematicians, not to speak of its inexhaustible richness, in which it surpassed all other parts of mathematics. KRONECKER compared number theorists with the Lotus Eaters, who, when they had sampled that delicacy, could never do without it. With astonishing sharpness, the great mathematician POINCARE once attacked TOLSTOY, who had suggested that pursuing “science for science’s sake” is foolish. The achievements of industry, for example, would never have occurred had the practical minded existed alone and had these advances not been pursued by uninterested fools. The glory of the human spirit, so said the famous Koenigsberg mathematician JACOBI, is the single purpose of all science.
We must not believe those, who today with philosophical bearing and deliberative tone prophesy the fall of culture and accept the ignorabimus. For us there is no ignorabimus, and in my opinion none whatever in natural science. In opposition to the foolish ignorabimus I offer our answer:
We must know, We will know.” David Hilber, speech at the Congress of the Association of German Natural Scientists and Medical Doctors, 1930 ( thanks to A. Jadczyk for the translation and mp3)
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“By the favour of the Gods, I have since my childhood been attended by a semi-divine being whose voice from time to time dissuades me from some undertaking,but never directs me what I am to do.” Socrates in Plato’s Theagetes

“As mind is naturally impressionable, that means that man is naturally impressionable too. Most often his illness, health, prosperity, failure, all depends upon the impressions on his mind. They say ‘Lines of fate and death are on the head and palm,’ but I would say that it is the impressions man has on his mind which decide his destiny.” Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan

“The more powerful method of advance that can be suggested at present is to employ all resources of pure mathematics in attempts to perfect and generalize the mathematical formalism that forms the existing basis of theoretical physics, and after each success in this direction, to try to interpret the new mathematical features in terms of physical entities.” Paul Dirac

“He who learns must suffer and even in our sleep pain that cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” Agamemnon Aeschylus

“By the time the Romans had conquered Greece, the rationalist movement was turning against spirit-channeling. Cicero, the Roman rationalist whom the early Church Fathers highly revered, railed against spirit-channeling or necromancy on the grounds that it involved ghastly pagan rituals. But, as noted above, eventually, rationalism bit the hand that fed it and began to devour its father, monotheism, by further extending the argument to the idea that there is no god, there are no spirits, nothing survives the death of the physical body, so there is really nobody for us to talk to on the “other side,” so why bother?” Laura Knight-Jadczyk

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Here is selection of some of my favourite poems:

L´INFINITO- Leopardi

Always dear to me was this lonely hill,
And this hedge, which from me so great a part
Of the farthest horizon excludes the gaze.
But as I sit and watch, I invent in my mind
endless spaces beyond, and superhuman
silences, and profoundest quiet;
wherefore my heart
almost loses itself in fear. And as I hear the wind
rustle through these plants, I compare
that infinite silence to this voice:
and I recall to mind eternity,
And the dead seasons, and the one present
And alive, and the sound of it. So in this
Immensity my thinking drowns:
And to shipwreck is sweet for me in this sea.

.
SONG OF AMERGIN( R.Graves translation)

I am the stag : of seven tines,
I am a flood : across a plain,
I am a wind : on a deep lake,
I am a tear : the sun lets fall
I am a hawk : above the cliff
I am a thorn : beneath the nail,
I am a wonder : among flowers,
I am a wizard : who but I
Sets the cool head aflame with smoke

I am a spear : that roars for blood,
I am a salmon : in a pool,
I am a lure : from paradise,
I am a hill : where poets walk,
I am a boar : ruthless and red,
I am a breaker, threatening doom,
I am a tide : that drags to death,
I am an infant : who but I
Peeps from the unhewn dolmen arch?

I am the womb : of every holt,
I am the blaze, on every hill,
I am the queen, of every hive,
I am the shield : for every head,
I am the tomb : of every hope.

MUNICH- Brodsky

In the little town out of which death sprawled over the classroom map
the cobblestones shine like scales that coat a carp,
on the secular chestnut tree melting candles hang,
and a cast-iron lion pines for a good harangue.
Through the much laundered, pale window gauze
woundlike carnations and kirchen needles ooze;
a tram rattles far off, as in days of yore,
but no one gets off at the stadium anymore.
The real end of the war is a sweet blind’s frock
across a Viennese armchair’s fragile back
while the humming winged silver bullets fly,
taking lives southward, in mid-July.

ELEGY FOR ROBERT LOWELL- Brodsky

1.
In the autumnal blue
of your church-hooded New
England, the porcupine
sharpens its golden needles
against Bostonian bricks
to a point of needless
blinding shine.

White foam kneels and breaks
on the altar. People’s
eyes glitter inside
the church like pebbles
splashed by the tide.

What is salvation, since
a tear magnifies like glass
a future perfect tense?
The choir, time and again,
sings in the key of the Cross
of Our Father’s gain,
which is but our loss.

There will be a lot,
a lot of Almighty Lord,
but not so much as a shred
of your flesh. When man dies
the wardrobe gapes instead.
We acquire the idle state
of your jackets and ties.

2.
On the Charles’s bank
dark, crowding, printed letters
surround their sealed tongue.
A child, commalike, loiters
among dresses and pants
of vowels and consonants

that don’t make a word. The lack
of pen spells
their uselessness. And the black

Cadillac sails
through the screaming police sirens
like a new Odysseus keeping silence.

3.
Planes at Logan thunder
off from the brown mass
of industrial tundra
with its bureaucratic moss.

Huge autoherds graze
on gray, convoluted, flat
stripes shining with grease
like an updated flag.

Shoals of cod and eel
that discovered this land before
Vikings or Spaniards still
beset the shore.

In the republic of ends
and means that count each deed
poetry represents
the minority of the dead.

Now you become a part
of the inanimate, plain
terra of disregard
of the common pain.

4.
You knew far more
of death than he ever will
learn about you or
deal to reveal.

It might feel like an old
dark place with no match
to strike, where each word
is trying a latch.

Under this roof
flesh adopts all
the invisibilty of
lingering soul.

In the sky with the false
song of the weathercock
your bell tolls
-a ceaseless alarm clock.

From “THE SAILOR´S HOME”- Yang Lian

My reading of this work from Berlin Cafe:

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1.SPRING SCENE- River Valley

this infinitely big moment exposed by sunlight so big, this body
exposing a mat of tightly-clustered golden down
our heads are buried in it rubbing our cheeks a river valley

this moment what lies embraced is the shape of spring
lined up for you eyes closed you feel the hills are below
birdsong making your womb contract with pink blessing

wind stilled bloodstains chasing the end of each finger
catching the cleft you hide within your shyness
soft and fragrant pushing the green banks of the river

so we see next breath there’s no scenery
river valley bends into light lightspeed crumbling within each drop of water
we know the destiny that makes the world bright and dizzy

complete in an instant this enchantment
kiss the destruction of the moment the tight hug is the flower
trembling erect burning point like a pistil or stamen

6. CHART OF A NAP

on the sea’s surface million flaming red rose gardens are drifting
on the bed the the hollow of the throat is a little precisely carved one
don’t knock that nipple let her go dreaming

let two tips in dreams the perfumed colour of smoke inhale
let an afternoon hold in its mouth milk seeping out drop by drop
what this instant hugs to its breast has all set sail

sleeping this city too is floating off
on the scaly steps of the surf two feet run wild
what’s facing dazzling disaster is always one deep breath

the room is filled with bubbles inperceptibly rising
the flexing everywhere in the room grazes the whisper-brought night
know without asking a little rest is turning into screwing

in made-made night you see the bright moon when your eyes close
man is a reef collecting shadows of endings
pouring out in a flood to throw away existence

9. APLLE ON THE GALLOWS

you take all year to imagine inserting a kernel stuck inside you
a revolving axle a kind of force you want to deny
can’t deny autumn is a slow fire for death and hanging too

indigo logic that lifts you swaying in space
meters above the ground when flushed fruits hold their kernels and rub
wind touches you whoever wants to can touch you in this place

cold nails your inner being sweet limitless only then for yourself
rot has a handle clutching and smelling the marine fragrance of sex
on a golden barb you hang yourself

meters above the world given over to the crudest brilliance
beak that sharpens its point knows where pecking is more mortal
pecks her broken flesh withered vibrating branch

two eyes that saw deep into the flesh on that first day
take the poetic of necessary death to make you imagine one fierce life
a detonated facial expression hanging and lonely


MIRROR Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful—
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

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Paul Celan :

The voice of Paul with some Shakuhachi mixed in, recorded in my bathroom with it´s resonant tiles:

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More, with my saxophone in the back:

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And now some of my favourites of Paul Celan in their translation:

CRYSTAL

Do not seek your mouth on my lips
nor a stranger at the gate,
nor a tear in the eye.

Seven nights higher Red wanders to Red,
seven hearts deeper a hand raps at the gate,
seven roses later the wellspring rushes.

LANDSCAPE

You lofty poplars- humans of this earth!
You blackened ponds of happiness- you mirror them toward death!

I saw you, sister, standing in this brilliance.

.
EPITAPH FOR FRANCOIS

Both doors of the world
stand open:
open by you
in the twinight.
We hear them bangin and banging
and bear it uncertainly,
and bear this Green into your Ever.

REMEMBRANCE

Nourished by figs be the heart
wherein an hour thinks back
on the deadman´s almond eye.
Nourished by figs.

Steep, in the seawind´s breath,
the shipwrecked
forehead,
the cliff-sister

And full-blown by your white hair
the fleece
of the grazing cloud.

BELOW A PAINTING

Corn wave swarming with ravens.
Which heaven´s blue? Below? Above?
Later arrow, that sped out from the soul.
Stronger whirring. Nearer glowing. Two worlds touching.

INTO THE DISTANCE

Muteness, afresh, roomy, a house—:
come, you should dwell there.

Hours, fine-tuned like a curse: the asylum
in sight.

Sharper than ever the air remaining: you must breathe,
breathe and be you.

WITH WINE AND LOSTNESS, with
the dregs of both:

I rode through the snow, do you hear,
I rode into the distance– the nearness, he sang.
it was
our last ride over
human hurdles.

They ducked when
they heard us overhead, they
wrote, they
lied our whinnying
into one of
their painted languages.

WITH ALL MY THOUGHTS I went
out of the world: there you were,
o my gentle one, you my open one, and-
you took us in.

Who
says it all died out for us
when our eye dimmed?
It all awoke, all started up.

Huge, a sun came drifting, bright
against it stood soul and soul, clear,
they forced a silence
in its path.

Easily
your womb opened up, softly
a breath rose into the air
and what turned to cloud- wasn´t it,
wasn´t it a shape and of our making,
was it not
as good as a name?

WHERE THE WORD, that was undying, fell:
into heaven´s ravine behind my brow,
led by spittle and dreck, there goes
the sevenbranch starflower that lives with me.

Rhymes in the night house, breath in the muck,
the eye a thrall to images-
And yet: an upright silence, a stone
evading the devil´s staircase.

IN THE REPTILE-CAR, past
the white cypress,
they drove you
through the flood.

Yet in you, from
birth,
the other wellspring foamed,
on the black
memory beam
you climbed to daylight.

(I KNOW YOU, you´re the one bent over low,
and I, the one pierced through, am in your need.
Where flames a word to witness for us both?
You- wholly real. I- wholly mad.)

(ICH KENNE DICH, du bist die tief Gebeugte,
ich der Durchbohrte, bin dir untertan.
Wo flammt ein Wort, das fuer uns beide zeugte?
Du- ganz,ganz wirklich. Ich- ganz Wahn.)

SCOOPED by the
great Eye-
less One
from your eyes:

six-
edged and blanched with refusal,
the foundling stone.

A blindman´s hand, starhardened too
from wandering through names,
rests on it
as long as on you,
Esther.

WHERE?
At night in crumbling rockmass.

In trouble´s rubble and scree,
in slowest tumult,
the wisdom pit named Never.

Water needles
stitch up the split
shadow- it fights its way
deeper down,
free.

COAGULA

Also your
wound, Rosa.

And the horns´ light of your
Romanian buffaloes
in place of a star above the
sand bed, in the
outspeaking red
ashpotent
alembic.

A RUMBLING: it is
Truth itself
walked among
men,
amidst the
metaphor squall.

ONCE,
I heard him,
he was washing the world,
unseen, nightlong,
real.

One and infinite,
annihilated,
they I´ed.

Light was. Salvation

THE TRACE OF A BITE in Nowhere.

It too
you must combat,
from here out.

YOU WERE my death:
you I could hold
while everything slipped from me.

DEW. And I lay with you, you, in the trash,
a mashed-in moon
pelted us with answers,

we crumbled from each other
and crumbled back together:

the Lord broke the bread,
the bread broke the Lord.

NEAR, IN THE AORTA´S ARCH,
in bright blood:
the brightword.

Mother Rachel
weeps no more.
Carried across now
all of the weeping.

Still, in the coronary arteries,
unbinded:
Ziv, that light.

KNOCK the
light-wedges away:

the floating word
is dusk´s.

THE BROACHED YEAR
with its rotting crust of
madnessbread.

Drink
from my mouth.

I HEAR, THE AXE HAS FLOWERED,
I hear, the place is not nameable,

I hear, the bread that looks at him
heals the hanged man,
the bread his wife baked him,

I hear, they call life
our only refuge

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Octavio Paz:

THE EVERYDAY FIRE

Like the air
constructing and deconstructing
invisible buildings
on the pages of geology,
on the planetary mesas:
man.
his language scarcely a grain
burning
in the palm of space.

Syllables are incandescent ,
And they are plants:
their roots
fracture silence,
their branches
build houses of sound.
Syllables:
they twine and untwine,
playing
at likeness and unlikeness.
Syllables:
they ripen in the mind,
flower in the mouth.
Their roots
drink night, eat light.
Languages:
trees incandescent
with leaves of rain.

Foliage of lightning,
geometries of echoes:
on a leaf of paper
the poem constructs itself
like day
on the palm of space

WRITING

I draw these letters
As the day draws its images
And blows over them
And does not return

DISTANT NEIGHBOUR

Last night an ash tree
Was about to say–
But didn´t

EPITAPH FOR NO STONE

Mixcoac was my village. Three nocturnal syllables,
a half-mask of shadow across a solar face.
Clouds of dust came and ate it.
I escaped and walked through the world.
Mr words were my house, air my tomb.

from the old Norse “The Poetic Edda ( ca AD1200) :

THE SPEECH OF THE HIGH ONE

“I know I hung on that windswept tree,
swung there for nine long nights,
wounded by my own blade,
bloodied for Odin,
myself an offering to myself:
Bound to the tree
that no man knows
whither the roots of it run.

None gave me bread,
none gave me drink.
Down to the deepest depths I peered
until I spied the Runes.
with a roaring cry I seized them up,
then dizzy and fainting, I fell.

Well-being I won
And wisdom too.
I grew and took joy in my growth:
from a word to a word
I was led to a word,
from a deed to another deed”

This is a Zulu song accompanying an Iboga ceremony as the traveller departs from the body :

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Alone inside the bell tower of the University of Kansas, I too depart for a moment. “Was ist das: geachtet zu sein, gegen das andere: glücklich zu sein und den Stolz des Herzens befriedigt zu haben.” (Robert Walser) :

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“I will answer you in the words of Gurdjieff as given by Ospensky- “If you understood everything you have read in your life, you would already know what you are looking for now.”This statement is one to be pondered over again and again. It reveals the true connection between books and life. It tells one how to read. It proves- to me, at any rate- something I have reiterated a number of times, to wit, that the reading of books is for the joy of corroboration, and that that is the final discovery we make about books.

As for true reading- a procedure which never ends- that can be done with anything: a blade of grass, a flower, a horse’s hoof, the eyes of a child when smitten with wonder or ecstasy, the mien of a real warrior, the form of a pyramid, or the serene composure graven on the statue of every Buddha. If the questioning faculty is not dead, if the sense of wonder is not atrophied, if there be real hunger and not mere appetite or craving, one cannot help but read as he runs. the whole universe must then become an open book.This joyous reading of life or books does not imply the abatement of the critical faculty. On the contrary. To make full surrender to author or Author implies the exaltation of the critical faculty.

In railing against the use of the word “constructive” in connection with literary criticism, Powys writes thus :O that word “constructive”! How, in the name of the mystery of genius, can criticism be anything else than an idolatry, a worship, a metamorphoses, a love affair!Ever and ever the moving finger points to the innermost self, not in warning but in love. The handwriting on the wall is neither mysterious nor menacing to the one who can interpret it. Walls fall away, and with them our fears and reluctances. But the last wall to give way is the wall which hems the ego in. Who reads not with the eyes of the Self reads not at all. the inner eye pierces all walls, deciphers all scripts, transforms all “messages.” It is not a reading or appraising eye, but an informing eye. It does not receive light from without, it sheds light- Light and Joy. Through light and joy is the world opened up, revealed for what it is : ineffable beauty, unending creation.”

Henry Miller- The Books of my Life

Some Books of my Life:

Cervantes Don Quixote (Edith Grossman translation)
Bulgakov The Heart of a Dog, The Master and Margerita
Selimovic The Fortress, Death and the Dervish
Ivo Andric The Bridge on the Drina, The Dammed Yard
Raymond Roussel Locus Solus, Impressions of Africa
Henry Miller The Air Conditioned Nightmare
Joris-Karl Huysmans
Simon IngsThe Weight of Numbers
Gore Videl Essays
Aleister Crowely Book4, 777, Confessions, Book of Thoth, Book of Lies
Franz Kafka everything
Umberto Eco Reflections on The Name of the Rose
James Joyce everything
Jean Baudrillard Cool Memories, The Transparency of Evil
Hans Arp French Writings
Rabelais Gargantua and Pantagruel
Jean Paul Richter Siebenkaes
Montaigne Essays
Alan Hymes M.D Science of Breath
Czeslaw Milosz The Captive Mind, Poetry
Heiner Ruland Expanding Tonal Awareness
Daniel Reid The Tao of Health, Sex , and Longitivity
Jan Potocki The Manuscript found at Saragossa
Georg Lichtenberg Aphorisms
Allen Ginsberg Spontaneous Mind
William Blake Collected Poetry
Herodotus The Histories
Celine Journey to the End of the Night
Dostoyevsky The Idiot
Russell History of Western Philosophy
Arthur Power Conversations with James Joyce
Stockhausen Texte zur Musik
Ivan Illach Deschooling Society
Jerzy Grotowski whatever you can find
JM Coetzee Waiting for the Barbarians, Life and times of Michael K
Ryzard Kapucinski everything
Pir Villiat Khan In Search of the Hidden Treasure
Czeslaw Milosz Legends of Modernity
Victor TrimondiThe Shadow of the Dalai Lama
Sogyal Rimpoche The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
Ospensky In Search of the Miraculous
Musashi The Book of Five Rings
Robert Graves The Greek Myths, The White Godess
W. Shakespeare alles oder nichts
E.Cioran everything
Gudjieff Meetings with Remarkable Men
Icelandic Sagas, .
The Book of Kells
Guy Debord Society of the Spectacle
Basho The Narrow Road to the Deep North
Krasa The travels of Sir John Mandeville
Mircea Eliade Journals
Chuang Tsu Inner Chapters
Novalis Hymns to the Night
Camus The Outsider
Lampedusa The Leopard
Peter Brook Threads of Time, The Shifting Point
Tadashi Suzuki The Way of Acting
Japanese Death Poems edited by Hoffman
Andre Breton Anthology of Black Humor
Richard Sennett The Fall of Public Man
Henning Haslund Men and Gods in Mongolia
Harold Bloom Shakespeare, The Invention of the Human, Genius, Kabbalah
Gardner The New Ambidextrous Universe
Douglas Rushkoff Coercion
Steiner The Fourth Dimension
Silverstein The Missing Piece, The Giving Tree
John Major Jenkins Galactic Alingment
Julian Barnard Bach Flower Remedies, form and function
Gaiman The Books of Magic
Joseph Brodsky Essays


all photos © 2007 |–|å¥d?n (h1sh0/m