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Tuesday, November 25, 2008



G L O R Y!









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Art, Love and War






























Nature and Freedom











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Guess Who Re-Started the War in Vietnam?

(See explication below)





British Officers (in 1945) making sure their Japanese Allies have good weapons to fight Commos and other Baddies...


Yes! The British and the French made an agreement in about 1945 to occupy each others' former colonies and the British went into Vietnam -where the Vietnamese Liberation Army had defeated the Japanese without any outside help - the Japanese had been put into jails by the Vietnamese. But the British fought their way in - then meeting stiff resistance form the Vietnamese people - decided to free the Japanese soldiers - supply them with guns - and send then into the jungle to fight the Vietnamese. Ultimately the Vietnamese won again but in the meantime there was enough time for the French or reinvade -but after another 10 years they were completely defeated at Dien Bien Phu. The U.S. - rejecting Vietnam's calls for elections - then started bombing the place without declaring war (as they always -quite rightly and wisely - do as you never know with these foreigners! Declaring war can be dodgy!).

Of course they did this as it was necessary to burn and or kill women men and children etc and to accelerate the cause of democracy. As above (next post) of course it is explained why they had to rape women and kill people at the My Lai massacre site...

For complex but similar reasons the US now help everyone by putting people in chains men on an island in Cuba or by wiping out entire villages in Afghanistan. The British Army are also involved in helping there ( and even the NZ army is killing people there with great gusto - thank God for Phil Goff!! Saviour of the West from Arabs and Terrorists!) in their heroic and glorious status as in they were in Vietnam so long ago.



Bombs Away!

More bombs were dropped on Vietnam week by week that were dropped during the whole of WWll

But let us stand at dawn and remember our brave ANZAC soldiers (from NZ and Australia) and soldiers from the US -this picture shows the immense courage and dedication of the military men to freedom and the right to a decent Western way of life...









The Brave Struggle for Freedom Must Never End






Liberation through Burning!

(Beautiful vistas of the Vietnam War)








The Heroic US Infantry in Action!!


Brave US men fight the deadly enemy who could lurk anywhere - here they are seen spreading the great news of "democracy" and freedom" and the wonders of Capitalism
to a clearly evil and godless people... Iraq and Afghanistan - here we come!!



Love and Good will from the US Skies - Whoopie and Hoorah and Hallelooloo for the American Way!























Napalm -dropped on children and others in Vietnam and also in the First Gulf War on Iraqi soldiers who had already surrendered and is probably is still being used by the US and the British etc in Iraq and Afghanistan. It burns and cannot be removed - it sticks and burns...

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"Human kind cannot bear too much reality." T. S. Eliot Burnt Norton




TRANSGRESSION



Giovanni Intra 1968 - 2002

...........................................UNTITLED 1995 - 1996

"Everyone who makes work has to live out the boundary of their own fantasy, it's an undeniable condition of practice. I do live the work, but in my own terms. There are aspects of my life where I do participate in areas which may be regarded as transgressive. But really, what is
transgression.?... "


I deduced that the artist, a young man of 34: possibly gay, and possibly a Catholic New Zealander of Italian derivation, and also likely to have been of quite wide learning; particularly in the classics, had committed suicide -by the date and age of the artist - and the "plinyism", the mirror or inverted Ns etc - and his references to "transgression" in accompanying notes .

We all transgress.

I was also attracted to the black and the white and the (more or less) rectangular shapes - the open layout.





'Plinyism' -the Elder Pliny threw himself into Mt Etna. [THIS IS WRONG - PLINY THE ELDER DID RESEARCH INTO MANY THINGS INCLUDING NATURAL HISTORY MINING AND WAS FASCINATED BY THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS IN 79 AD AND DIED WHILE OBSERVING IT AND ALSO ATTEMPING TO RESCUE SOME FRIENDS. "PLINEAN" IS USED BY VULCANOLGOISTS TODAY TO REFER TO VIOLANT VOLCANIC ERUPTIONS. WHAT THE ARTIST HERE MEANS BY PLINYISM IS THUS A MYSTERY] This artist I knew nothing of when I visited the Auckland Art Gallery a month ago or so - note also the "Russian" or "cyrilic" N (mirror -as perhaps via Alice in Wonderland...









Mother and son.




My grandson - fascinated by the beautiful flamingos. His father is German.







Trimaran by the Panmure Wharf, where the Yacht Club is - and various Rowing Clubs







Things transform.





Maungarei from the eastern slope. The basin can be seen in the background.


I feel an immense ecstasy when I see such beautiful flowers -these are wild flowers on Maungarei. There was Pa here and around on the surrounding fertile volcanic land Maori cultivated kumara and they also gathered shell fish (middens are visible on the Mountain).

There have been a number of cases in the news of Maori and others involved in terrible child abuse -this is an ongoing problem in NZ -not confined to Maori and Pacific Islanders -but percentage wise they ""do"most crime etc - especially the "visible" crime.... there are complex reasons why many Maori are tormented, careless of others, or even themselves, high drug users, even very paranoid and often very corrupt. Probably prior to the degenerating influence of European colonisation Maori were more adjusted to what is quite a harsh environment. Where I live signs of degeneracy and demoralisation and examples of vandalism and of all kinds of crime and vandalism are everywhere - there is a general uncaring attitude the by Polynesians -but this is to generalise - as there are also many good people here. The tragedy began with colonialisation -but perhaps we - all of us -Maori, Pakeha, whatever race or ilk -perhaps we are all potentially fucked in the head. Unfortunately too many Polynesians and Maori are of a "low moral quality"... despite the Islanders' obsession with bible bashing... But humans and life are complex.

And crime and 'degeneracy' exists of course amongst people of whatever class or economic status or ethnicity. The problem is perhaps in the "deep structures" and the history -the alienation talked about by Marx; and this applies to my own culture (English parents, NZ born).

Nor have the Police shown much compassion either, or any real will to assist -with their treatment of Maori and their very uncaring attitude - nor did the Clark Government - with raids on Maori in the Tuhoe areas - and the attempt to steal more land from Maori via the act to grab more Maori land and seashore and sea bed rights - that is their attempt to circumvent or violate the Treaty and their lack of action for Maori or immigrants...








Kotuku - a sea bird. A bird. Another look at this mysterious and beautiful thing.


The Kotuku is a native bird associated with the Panmure lagoon - which isn't far from where Maori had a Pa (Mokoia - destroyed in the musket wars (around the 1820s) by Hongi Hika after he went to England and studied warfare methods, particularly Roman and other as the guest of George (one of the Georges!) - he had a suit of mail and built siege towers and slaughtered all (or most of) the Maori at Mokoia ... esp. as they didn't have as any muskets.

Canoes or waka were built at the lagoon. The Kotuku is often seen, as are kingfishers, shags, gulls, oyster catchers, ducks and other birds who dive for fish - the ones I'm thinking of kind of bring their wings close together and almost drop like the sleek Stukka German dive bombers into Poland in 1939 after Hitler dressed Poles in German uniforms, had them shot, took photos of them dead, blamed the Poles on terrorist acts (as Bush blamed terroism on the 9/11 fiasco) -and sent them on their heroic, glorious, and fateful missions - urging them, as true warriors of the Reich, to "Show no pity."

But aircraft are as beautiful as are birds. The picture is not as clear as I would like and I do have an SLR but it is not digital so I will one day perhaps get a much more versatile camera (or use the Pentax and get the films digitized)- with a better depth of field, different lense angles, and variable apertures and shutter speeds and perhaps with a greater pixellation capacity etc



Home architectured in "tudoresque" style at the Panmure Basin - this "basin" was created by a violent volcanic eruption about 9000 years ago and we saw geologists investigating (with drills)
rock samples. They subsequently established that a second eruption had occurred...
Japanese and Chinese and other tourists climb Mt Wellington and peer into the crator -half expecting (e'en half hoping?) it to re-erupt. Such is sublime the power of nature.

The deathly and merciless ferocity of nature... Mr's Smith's nieghbour Grace is in the local historical society.

My mate Brian Mace used to "lead" us kids in the 50s...we used to play endless games, go the "flicks", and Brina would invent games all the time ... Robbing orchards (the mainly European people round here all had them in those days) or sneaking inside peoples' houses were two ... Life was eternal when I was young.




"Shell and Gnome garden" in GI as discussed below.








The people here -while -or because they are - European and well to do - are a decent,moral kind people with standards - and they keep their houses well and have great gardens and self respect.
However the shell and gnome house (above a bit) is a a garden kept by Pacific Island people in Glenn Innes showing that people can achieve beauty regardless of class or income or race etc
Today the Pacific people working on their garden said a kind hello to us.





Close up of lilacs by the beautiful houses fronting the Panmure Basin

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Saturday, November 15, 2008

..............This heart pain is not a medicine.


tertius said...
The importance of joyce is the life given to the local dialect, accent and dialogue, there is the nationalism... look at the place names of the indigneous...his magnitude lies where the language begins to break down, defragment and become isolated from the rest of the universe and thus he uncovers the flaws in the political activism...where ever it is applied...entropy again...


each line...strengthens the picture but never makes it final.

.........................We accept that as the method of the artist...

...But what physics has done is to show that it is not the only method to knowledge.

There is no absolute knowledge. And those who claim it, whether they are scientists or dogmatists

open the door to tragedy.

All information is imperfect__________________________________
_____

but I am not interested just now in the poem's meaning (meaning is problematic in any case) interested here in the look of the totality of his work as worked through and I then transform it - as things constantly do in life - in fact I went "berserk" with it almost in trance or a fever, a kind of "creative rage" perhaps: creating a new "poem" or text as in the following image-poem-text-enactment: an implication of an infinite and progressive or degressive process ... I got very angry with it:


tertius said...
Chaucer and his canterbury tales conjure english nationalism...

tertius said...

And the tale was unfinished...the illusion of democracy...a greek philosophy, an ideal but a reality not then or now...in political terms there are republics with monarchies or military juntas or state bodies...democracy you machiviellian tragedy...you evasive woman...you coy virgin...democracy you licentious whore

maybe a shadow sleeps in your hand, but it is not known to the divergent multitude, who are cross with destiny. Our quarrel is not so direct, or our bubbles so gloating in their rise.


A baby emits a cry of life on being thrust into a cold, bright world.
Gone is the dark warmth of the mother's womb.
The umbilical cord is severed and closed off.

tertius said...
Language poets break down all meaning and strive to sleep with democracy...the pillow talk bleeds all structure and the orgasm cries to the progeny...whats left is the mumble and the ramblings of the vagrant striving for food as he talks to the statute of david in the garden of the church where he was buried a thousand years ago...



The loss of dialogue in philosophy has been a central problem since Plato; Cavell, applying this to his own work, and that of Thoreau, talks about the dialogue of a “text answerable to itself”. Certainly Philosophical Investigations is the primary instance of such a text in this century, and also a primary instance of taking this practice as method. I can easily imagine more extreme forms of this: where
fingers

like leafic fingers –
And the silence: you -
you would never know that silence:

You struggle toward the word,
but it dashes thru time, spinning, and blurring;
- and, I cant. I try though:
I shove my hand into the Nothing Flower



contrasting moods and styles of argument, shifting styles and perspectives, would surface the individual the individual modes and perspectives, would surface the individual modes and their meaning in individual ways, and perhaps further Heidegger’s call for an investigation into “pure thinking” (Thinking is also construction.) Indeed, I can imagine a writing that would provide a philosophic insight but would keep essentially a fabric of
dance – logopoeia – where truth would not be to the validity of argument but to the ontological truthfulness of its meaning.


Richard Comments – they don’t break down all meaning – there is still semantic significance whether in the frame of what they say or in the language potential of the multiplex utterances they devise and their challenge to conventional “linear” meaning – the sign either takes center stage or the conjunction of signs –as it is put –“the materiality of the signifier” – and in the most exploded text there is significance . By being conventionally meaningful there is a dangerof total absorption that tactics such as “ostranie” counterattack…and there is much else.


There is danger of too much meaning – too much coercive truth or assertion.


These comments highlight some of the pitfalls.

But even since Modernism –ambiguity has been esesntial for the rejuvenation of intense and significant language that struggles against the
ubiquity of
The Text
and
received History

– the Fascism of Enlightenment struggles

with the wonderful beauty of undecidability – the Humanist strangulation of

creative Anarchy.

...........The immense power and Awe of the Vacuum into which the spider and the shopkeeper equally peer….


.....................WHAT AM I DOING HERE ?

tertius said...
The revelation and dissemblence of the nobody..'i think therefore i am a dinosaur'. Democracy spread your pillars and lets enter your chamber...there is a gift here...ready to be opened...


eternal sections golden dark eye light black light light black eternal red sections eternal eyelight thinking into black light white light light eternal eternal quia sections who know dark light white eternal dark eye golden black light sections sections eye light light red green black light sections sections eye light light red green scream section perpendicular dark redicular dark bipedal forked light red who golden sections green light green gold black quia sections old dark old gold black black black white ablaze sections quiver final black lip dark eternal lip light black green perpendicular sections white aristotelian greenluck eye bread black mount sea black eye mount red mane all eye bespeak beating sections quia unconnected blackfinal eternal white white eternal perpendicular who


Think here of W H Auden and the paradox of thinking oneself beyond and man –devised Portal whereunder Zeus may well enter the excited Golden Ox…

possibly food pits on Maungarei - the whole mountain was shaped for defence and around were huge areas of cultivations

tertius said...
The blood falls from the altar

Richard Taylor said...

That's what I liked about what Huxley liked or one aspect Huxley admired in Lawrence (a friend) was that he liked things such as the Etruscan civilisation as there were no ruins or evidence of fixed abode per se - in other words he believed in, loved, flux - we cant have too much) - taken loosely this is phenomenology (a convenient word; a shell to hide in - possibly meaningless in some ways -very abstract ideas implied - but interesting ) ; and your "poetic" philosophising and musing some what captures some of my own doubts and realisations of uncertainties and the folding reality of ambiguity –


These can be seen as images or fragments of images or images of fragments. At this stage we might consider "The Wound and the Bow" the book of essays by Edmund Wilson or we might consider other - well we could consider an infinite variety as we leap into the grave to philosophise - only to find Yorrick - for we are surely at the "wobble point" (or the 3b point) when Eternity Herself (fucked pisshead!) leans down and paints our ears with new resolve (or is that reslove?) as to the consideration of a new renewed vigour and a +ve decline and fall into hope or (the old rolled Protogroanic slime - so well recalled!!) as things old young and sessile or not (case may be) start warming up in the yes no yessiness mess we had hoped would fold away; tent; but again we recall the finger - either pointing or indexing - or being something that had been something that had been (caught out in fact) "having written" or "writ" (case may be) and being uncanceleable - especially as we (and he) re think or "hear" (for who can hear?!!) the preliminary shiver (one of those feeble erotic nigger fat bastards who actually still believe(s) in things!!!!) - or was that shudder? - touche! trouve! - as the machine leaps into life (as they say in X) and thence the recall of those "horribly mutilated limbs and genitals" he observed - result of mustard gas - sounds so harmless - I - if I had some ham to eat or consume - I would indeed use Colemans - I use Colemans - and we image have of man on an ice pack in immaculate dress - being borne (or was that born?!) away by the imperceptible movement in some glass cold ocean where regret (carefully kept) and love etc become only the ghasted ghosts of silent ghosts inside the fagged out and toroidal echoes slowly dissipating smoke smook steam arises in canisters of concealed butts (or was that 'buts') -

---------------------------
.....democracy you licentious whore



of course nothing is much 'if' use now if "'it': - and - the bowler - hatted Immaculata Man (looks so much like P McGoohan) is quite at Peace - e'en smirking! - so we skew back to the Nothing Flower - and the various possiblities of consistency -or what is called "moral certainty" and indeed a kind of rectitude re-erects itself inside us as we advance on the powdered moon (facing itself, and giggling googling to Echo - the Bitch!) - or read a story of a soldier who loved a leopard - for it is clearly futile (or pukile?) to re-examine David or Michelangelo's "Pieta" - wonderful as these works are - it "all falling over ("at the mouth" - ho!) as 1) Their lastingness is in doubt 2) something moved 3) the virgin is or would be (grotesquely) vast again (or was that Finneagain finished again- ha ah!!) if she got up - Dwarf the whole of Man and History (and Gott?) 4) supported by the marble folds (reippping collumnars thro her dress flowing descend about



fingers like leafic fingers –
And the silence: you -
you would never know that silence:
You struggle toward the word,
but it dashes thru time, spinning, and blurring;
- and, I cant. I try though:
I shove my hand into the Nothing Flower

.....................................................................WHAT AM I DOING HERE ?


down up her majestically ecstatica ant errant newt face..) almost seeming to rise UPWARDS 5); I at least have read nothing by Edward Upward

6) J A has "done" Parmigianino - and Convexity again raises its ugly face, magical marvel of marble; and how are we to continue with cannallettoical interruptions such as that, some noisy (or was that nosey?) bastard saying hullo and .... well it all intercounnterfabulates and its smoko in any case (this is no slur on those whose predilectio delicto inflagroante delecto forepooooooorceptile conforgulation has been ressessiled in the circalouakaathumping pumping ooohh aah ooh ahhh ooh ahhh Free Process as in Morgan's Transforms oooh ahhh ohooh ahhhhhach ("Well those Byellorussian tone poems we are all so familiar with!" ( drives down ( egg nightmare ( wishes ( begin? (Homo Thinkins? (Ecstaticasss (eclairrissment! (I paid my penny (ad in fin......... ... ... ... ... (startles the the thought knob (throb and bub (we and him (hist of nightmares (wake up to death or flowers (beans again ....

( and all mimsy were the groves (a nightmare of faces....(labels...(peril - at your -peristalttic peril (evil Errol (big ( East of... (stomach retreat to reiterate ( sate (cancel nor all yer wit...(a wity desecration as of dog shit (light again...
Churchill being perhaps a "butcher" but less so maybe than Kitchener and also perhaps "necessary" although Gallipoli a mess I feel, bloody and red and surreal as cardboard Caesar-men who bestrid the world in a colossal mockery of time ...but certainly perhaps needed in WW2 ... Hitler and others including the Terrorist Stalin seemingly like Genghis Kan a fascinating and perhaps a sad but necessary ("necessary murder" {Auden in "Spain" - he changed the wording even before Owrwell's objection)) because possibly proleptically an inevitable aspect of human history –


each line...strengthens the picture but never makes it final. We accept that as the method of the artist...

...But what physics has done is to show that it is not the only method to knowledge. There is no absolute knowledge. And those who claim it, whether they are scientists or dogmatists open the door to tragedy. All information is imperfect_______________________________________


I came here via reading the Maps and I am NOT impressed.

As a typical reader, I want had-hitting action, bang for me bick, NOT self-indulgent postasting and circle jerks by pseudonyms.

C'mon, mate, have some self-respect: do Live or do you EXIST?

You fucking cunt.
..................................the dirty but possible windows


the dead fly on the window sill



........................Ravel and Te Kooti and Tama and the music


a part of what we actually are - in Ireland the huge injustices done by the British and the collaborators - de Valera (or his deputies?) mucking up under pressure from (liberal but also "thunder guns") Lloyd Goerge was it? - threatening to attack with all guns if he didn't sign but signing away Northern Ireland))

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Joyce, fascinated by words and sounds,


eternal sections golden dark eye light black light light black eternal red sections eternal eyelight thinking into black light white light light eternal eternal quia sections who know dark light white eternal dark eye golden black light sections sections eye light light red green black light sections sections eye light light red green scream section perpendicular dark redicular dark bipedal forked light red who golden sections green light green gold black quia sections old dark old gold black black black white ablaze sections quiver final black lip dark eternal lip light black green perpendicular sections white aristotelian greenluck eye bread black mount sea black eye mount red mane all eye bespeak beating sections quia unconnected blackfinal eternal white white eternal perpendicular who

("the sad sunken cunt of the world", "the snot green sea",

"Boys, see that pier - it's a disappointed bridge"! (I puzzled over that one it has about 4 meanings hidden in it - probably more - Finnegans Wake on the way!);,

"Stately plump Buck Mulligan stately intoned:

"Introibo altare deo"


(a mockery - deliberate...,

...and Joyce, whose name means Joy;

hiding in Europe scared of dogs and thunder, influenced by Giordorno Bruno and Vico as Yeats and Ross was - hiding inside his genius and so on, creating Bloom

who becomes Boom!, then the Polyphemus (the Citizen)

throws the biscuit tin as Bloom Odysseus escapes the blinded hater - still Irish to the bone but mocking his own country with the bitter but comic intensity of those who know it and hate it and deeply love it...

He leaned closer. Perhaps there wasn’t much hope in him

M...O...K...O



outcast, and shows it. For me tattooing is very profound. The meeting of body and, well, the spirit—it’s a real kind of art, it’s on the skin. It’s both
material and not material and it’s also a sign of the outcast. So that’s what I’m saying about looking for the myth with people like that—tattoo artists, sailors, pirates.
EGF: They represent the outcasts?
KA: Not just outcasts—outcasts could be bums—but people who are beginning to take their own sign-making into their own hands. They’re conscious of their own sign-making,

N.Z. my country I would die for??

Die for a rag and some letters?

[Boom!! Tama Iti shooting the NZ Rag! Booooooooooooooom!!!!]

Boom or bloom again!??
The loss of dialogue in philosophy has been a central problem since Plato; Cavell, applying this to his own work, and that of Thoreau, talks about the dialogue of a “text answerable to itself”. Certainly Philosophical Investigations is the primary instance of such a text in this century, and also a primary instance of taking this practice as method. I can easily imagine more extreme forms of this: where contrasting moods and styles of argument, shifting styles and perspectives, would surface the individual the individual modes and perspectives, would surface the individual modes and their meaning in individual ways, and perhaps further Heidegger’s call for an investigation into “pure thinking” (Thinking is also construction.) Indeed, I can imagine a writing that would provide a philosophic insight but would keep essentially a fabric of
dance – logopoeia – where truth would not be to the validity of argument but to the ontological truthfulness of its meaning.

Not sure...parents English never been to England...remote...You - Scotland and Ireland and Kiwiland... the song continues ... Yeats meeting Joyce in Dublin but puzzled by him - quite different men - Joyce not telling the Old Master he knew all his poems by heart...Pound discovering Joyce...

So many petals.

You cannot conceive
the intense concentration as my head
transformed to a vast glass sphere:

with a precise, and tireless, and all-watching eye:
- and intented thru, like all the winter's winds
had seized themselves into the glass.
fingers like leafic fingers –
And the silence: you -
you would never know that silence:
You struggle toward the word,
but it dashes thru time, spinning, and blurring;
- and, I cant. I try though:
I shove my hand into the Nothing Flower.
It’s sort of like the difference
between eating glass powder,
or touching a red rose to a nipple:
it erecting, it massing:
And you recall, the surprise in dead eyes.


The word waits in the unseen dark.



Me saying once I couldn't be bothered typing up my poems - Jack Ross recalling well like Joyce and feeding this (failing of mine?) this into a (or one part of a) poem of his in Brief:

"A thousand pounded years" - very clever - a great line...

"Knowledge or Certainty"


"...These pictures do not so much fix the face as explore it; that the artist...as if by touch; each line...strengthens the picture but never makes it final. We accept that as the method of the artist...

...But what physics has done is to show that it is the only method to knowledge. There is no absolute knowledge. And those who claim it, whether they are scientists or dogmatists open the door to tragedy. All information is imperfect. We have to treat it with humility. That is the human condition; and that is what quantum physics says. I mean that literally.
eternal sections golden dark eye light black light light black eternal red sections eternal eyelight thinking into black light white light light eternal eternal quia sections who know dark light white eternal dark eye golden black light sections sections eye light light red green black light sections sections eye light light red green scream section perpendicular dark redicular dark bipedal forked light red who golden sections green light green gold black quia sections old dark old gold black black black white ablaze sections quiver final black lip dark eternal lip light black green perpendicular sections white aristotelian greenluck eye bread black mount sea black eye mount red mane all eye bespeak beating sections quia unconnected blackfinal eternal white white eternal perpendicular who


Jack the NZ James Joyce? - except he didn't live most of his life in penury and cadging off his brother etc! And his petty bourgeois father an alcoholic who refused to work as he felt mere workers were beneath

him as he had once owned property etc or had had a "better position" - he (James J) one himself virtually (drinking every day till he died of an ulcerated duodenum and always having eye ops and so on ... but Jack very erudite (if "evil" - [joke]) and talented like Joyce...


..................................writing - strange - all of us


tertius - staying in state of mystery - not known! Nothing being known!


tertius said...
Commenting on the 'search' for democratic values in all fields...the cant. tales...eliots wasteland...parsivals quest...malory...milton...dante... the search and the redemptions...timeless literature going beyond words...

tertius said...
Speaking of mysteries read some wild theories about shakespeare being a construct of various authors including marlowe... also conjecture surrounds the early death of edgar allan poe the father of the modern crime novel...

tertius said...
I wasnt aware of anything about joyces' background... your insights give me the drive to write 'in' poetry...I can recall reading that blake never travelled away from his village (can u confirm?)...was astounded that his imaginations 'travelled as if thru space' to me.

tertius said...
Comments on Britain n ire brought me to churchill and his greatness in poltical terms as he had his faults (gallipoli) but was in a horrendous situation between degaul n the free french, the russians and the americans who bled britain dry in the first half of the 20th cent.

tertius said...
With the complexities of america they are the 'devil you know not the devil you dont' I know that is simplistic, but my readings about america from the 1950s to watergate seem to suggest that the nation is a series of military, economic monopolies (see the federal reserve act) and doesnt act like a state democracy (modern france more so)

tertius said...
Finally reading about the occult the 'great beast' Alaester Crowley,(english leader of demonic church i think?) is reported to have advised churchill on the occult symbolism that the german nazis were obsessed with,the power of the swastika(eastern symbol of infinity..not 100% sure of its meaning)could only be defeated by the reverse v sign.....the front v sign came about by english archers showing the sign originally with the thumb to the french around agincourt times circa 1415 after the french passed laws to cut off those three fingers if archers were captured during war ha!


...............that ring, recalling the dying generation’s that all, all neglect all, and the dark and clapping coat a-stick, & such arms in arms, and the joyful bitter hope of gold, beat into music: free in the holy fire outside desire or any gyre, keeping awake….these strange sounds that ring from those who live and have learnt to sing…

tertius said...
That was the reference to chaucer and his tales being a national inspiration to england at a time when france dominated the state n church. And lastly to refer to the only english pope adrian iv who was installed by the powerful plantagenent king henry 2and his french wife eleanor of aquataine(parents of richard the lionheart)...very much around the crusader days when knightly orders were growing in influence( knights templar..forerunners of the freemasons) Pope adrian issued a papal bull giving england or henry dominion over the unruly heathen irish arter the irish king of leinster summoned an army of english mercenaries to quell the rest of country
with so many syndromes, diseases, shootings, atrocious accidents, massacres: in fact, the summated enbloodment? Eh?! Hmm!?!

Words are thus evolved: or invented ‘in sudden throat’, for evil or ‘good’ occasion. (Evil vile and virid (yet red yellow bright) amphispbaena sleep about as if in the dreams of La Tentation de St. Antoine …)
all this said, and, if acknowledged – let us note – those of us who are alive – how the sky is so blue, and the shrieking has subsided.

tertius said...
The king of england ruled eng,wales,irelan,n half of france but not scotland(later on) thus the saying get away 'scot free' Chaucer came along at a time when england needed to assert its own identity free from france and thru its language....and this we see in other countries thats why the local literature in your own work should not be underestimated as being uniquely 'kiwi' or 'maori' is something i hope we never lose ,dont stop writing in whatever form it takes...will give you a break for now. RT NZ POET adieu old friend...


each line...strengthens the picture but never makes it final. We accept that as the method of the artist...

...But what physics has done is to show that it is the only method to knowledge. There is no absolute knowledge. And those who claim it, whether they are scientists or dogmatists open the door to tragedy. All information is imperfect_______________________________________

C'mon, mate, have some self-respect: do Live or do you EXIST?

You fucking cunt.



In the beginning,
there was only Te Kore,
the great void

Friday, November 14, 2008

Room 2000

meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8">

XXX

This heart pain is not a medicine.

a gigantic sound-shriek

And every version seemed to me, peering over and into the austere glass and bossy case, of an equal, or similar merit, or wondrousness. Further: it was the totality as I felt this experience of reading and interpreting, and not understanding, was, for me. Later I realised that there was again here an example of constant process as 'poem' - and my encounter with it was part of an ongoing experience of a work - a work that ( if not for Curnow ) had it's importance for me in its endlessess and its non beginning. Later in lectures on Sartre (particularly his La Nausee) this issue or concept of there not being any place a "story" starts was presented as being problematic for the main protagonist.


In the beginning,

there was only Te Kore,

the great void

and emptiness of space.


invaders: the Vietnamese fought, the French, the Greeks.

No one knows why John Mulgan committed suicide just after the war, in a hotel, in Cairo, alone, with poison. Man is indeed alone: perhaps not always.

for there is
something about you, something nobody can see

R.T. 33) “Of course I fucking bloody well do! And I hate everyone in the world – they rob me of my power – I want power [power power power and blood and death.]”

puzzled me. What was this strange writhing and inquiring worm? What was it all about? ( I have trouble with


I DONT KNOW WHAT ANYTHING


MEANS



He leaned closer. Perhaps there wasn’t much hope in him

R.T. 33) “And sex and slime.”

R.T. 1) “Why slime? Why talk of slime? Who are we anyway where?? When what?”

R.T. Aleph Null 1) “Percolates inprecision into a coroallary of stanite coroallas coronae carseerers gets out you chicken head bitch face in tercede in full deep dip ploggle cringing hollee hope…”

R.T.5) “I we mean – this Blog you post here so infrequently –now as young fellow –were weyou 8 or 9 or older but we read Dickens (started with Pickwick Papers) and followed Snodgrass and the adventures of the Pickwick Club – then you read most the other novels…then a lot of Somerset Maugham, Ryder Haggard…”

R.T.44) “A ha!! Weeeewewewew weeeeeee 'emember that – you experienced that erotically –always there was huge Tower or a Temple in the jungle with a beautiful partly clad Sheila…the girls at Tamaki College used to move their legs and smilesmirk..who…were….”

R.T. 88) “Shut up you useless prick face! Kill the Universe – stick a pin in the plastic red Indian’s arse. Then hurl him to his death from the door cliff and into the chasm. ”

R.T. 60) “Orgasm in a chasm.”

R.T. 86) “ Bags ! He get’s shot with silver six shooters by Hopalong Cassidy!! Whip whooo whirlry!”

meaning is a construct across symbols, neither within them nor within the dictionary translation / transliterations.

here, in this example, only in this particular example, one has a section of what seems to be an infinite text, a text in the

In the beginning,

there was only Te Kore,

the great void

and emptiness of space.

R.T. 80) “ Boom!! ----- ‘mem you mem you when you half my height?’”

R.T. 222) “Percolates.”

You were so proud!

You looked at me!

Yes,

On the way I remembered the
walk. I followed myself step by step, reconstructing as I went along. This
was six days ago. Now again I remember.

What did you think you were doing?

==============================================================

(deceased now)

====================================================

Memory and reconstruction worries me. I wanted to follow myself. I didn't
think of this at the time, that is the time of the walk itself, but only
later. I conductor asked if I were a philosopher; I think I appeared deep
in thought. I wanted to remember as much as possible. Later, several times
in the past six days, I thought I would try and remember again, try to
write everything down. But I thought this would take too much effort; it

wasn't until now, Tuesday, that I've had the energy to proceed.
______________________________________________________________________________________

all around cant u see the dragons breath... ???

heard to cry out at deep of night to the Great One
who is probably dead and ensconced in a dream of lubricated, or
lubricious cavortings toward spittle. and flesh, words that send
shudders up my spire wire's spine loom; one would naturally much
prefer to be the vision inside a technical robot, whose

doom scenes
see wire mass everywhere, and,

puzzled me. What was this strange writhing and inquiring worm? What was it all about? ( I have trouble with


how does the spider know, because he,
too, is a constructor - or is it because the music nags us back down
the drain pipe into a parallel universe of incomprehensible equations,
or a crazed jumble of electronic, electrical, and machine parts
pushed into an eclected enclave, whose triumph is its denseness, or the

enormous significance

(deceased now)

of an endlessly looping musical track which your
great great grandmother could well have enjoyed:

________________________________________________________________________________________
What did you take with you?

I'm clearing my belongings out of Leslie Thornton's office. This trip I
took, in addition to what I brought up, a Cambodian bowed instrument, a
pair of slippers, some extra toiletries, a white towel. The towel and a
plastic bag were wrapped around the instrument and inserted into a cloth
bag. It was damp out. I added a polka-dotted umbrella as well, in case I
needed it.

Where did you go?

He leaned closer. Perhaps there wasn’t much hope in him

THINK MAYBE OF THE IMAGES AND THE COLOUR AND THE SHAPES

we beat strange

we beat strange

we beat strange

What if your giant snail starts to eat New Zealand, Leicester? What if it is molecularly transtoned by those green bastards and eats everything in the world up! Leicester Kyle, the writer of many books of poetry, one dedicated to me. Shut up head!

puzzled me. What was this strange writhing and inquiring worm? What was it all about? ( I have trouble with

Where was I? Oh, here is the entry: at 11 am today, after reading an encyclopaedia entry on bones, I told my helper (who is a medical student, and concurred) how marvellously complex, how mysterious the body is. But then everybody knows that.

absolute waste: the total futility, the loss.” He had some coffee. I was glad he could speak this immensity to me. I was young, and it was what I wanted to hear. Yes, there had to have been some better way.

(deceased now)

He leaned closer. Perhaps there wasn’t much hope in him.

The crosses, the rows and rows, the ordered dead: the endlessly dead; the white, the crosses, the dead, the dazzling, the white rows.”

He leaned closer. Perhaps there wasn’t much hope in him.

THIS BLOG IS ESSENTIAL READING TO ANYONE IN NZ OR COMING HERE OR READING ABOUT THIS LAND - AND 'MAPS' LINKS ALSO TO THE "GREATER" WORLD VIA HIS POLEMICS AND INSIGHT IN TO E.P THOMPSON AND THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR.BUT HIS KNOWLEDGE OF N.Z. HISTORY AND REALITY IS EXTRAORDINARY. NOT ONLY IS HIS READING AND INTERPRETATION HIGHLY ACUTE AND VERY WIDE - AND NOT ONLY IS HE A PHD IN SOCIOLOGY AND LITERATURE ETC ETC BUT HIS GRASP OF POLITICAL PHILOSOPHICAL AND CULTURAL-HISTORICAL MATTERS IS MASSIVE - BUT HE IS NOT JUST AN ARMCHAIR PHILOSOPHER AND TAKES PART IN MANY PROTESTS AND ACTIONS.

And every version seemed to me, peering over and into the austere glass and bossy case, of an equal, or similar merit, or wondrousness. Further: it was the totality as I felt this experience of reading and interpreting, and not understanding, was, for me. Later I realised that there was again here an example of constant process as 'poem' - and my encounter with it was part of an ongoing experience of a work - a work that ( if not for Curnow ) had it's importance for me in its endlessess and its non beginning. Later in lectures on Sartre (particularly his La Nausee) this issue or concept of there not being any place a "story" starts was presented as being problematic for the main protagonist.

I came here via reading the Maps and I am NOT impressed.

As a typical reader, I want had-hitting action, bang for me bick, NOT self-indulgent postasting and circle jerks by pseudonyms.

C'mon, mate, have some self-respect: do Live or do you EXIST?

You fucking cunt.

if you are not in it nothing is lost except nothing at all except what is not had, there are naturally all the refusals, and the things refused are only important if unexpectedly

somebody happens to need them. In the case of the arts it is very definite. Those who are creating the modern composition authentically are naturally only of importance when they are dead because by that time the modern composition having become past is classified and the description of it is classical. That is the reason why the creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic, there is hardly a moment in between and it is really too bad very much too bad naturally for the creator but also very much too bad for the enjoyer, they all really would enjoy the created so much better just after it has been made than when it is already a classic, but it is perfectly simple that there is no reason why the contemporary should see, because it would not make any difference as they lead their lives in the new composition anyway, and as every one is naturally indolent why naturally they don't see. For this re

(deceased now)

........................................ being perhaps differently in a different place


............. an agonistic sense, as sense as of desole, or illume.......

........................................as if things were, and something screams inside his silent head

.................who are we?

........................................wha -?! eh?

ape shaped

of what seems to be an infinite text, a text in the ma

XXX

This heart pain is not a medicine.

_____________________________

WHAT AM I DOING HERE ?

_____________________________

miserable. This is precisely the reason why Boltanski's works are not made of bronze or of marble, but rather of cheap materials such as tinplate; materials that fall into decay by themselves. The artist also uses simple and easily recognizable materials such as coats or photos. To him, everybody is a fragile and unique character whose memories have to be preserved, just like the example of his grandmother: no trace of her existence has left, at the exception of this samovar displayed in the Moscow exhibition or the memory of those who knew her. It is all about "small" individual memory, that is opposed to the "large" collective memory, that of the history books that he also tells throughout his installations. Each of his exhibitions creates a new path made of old pieces combined with new works, which setting is renewed every time.

Boltanski tells that at the beginning of every work of art, there is a historical or psychoanalytic event, referring to events that have to be told in order to be better understood.

For me there are no answers - the Mass is something incomprehensible (and undoubtedly

the clicks and insane toys and all the other cacophanies of the night scream with significant laughter as we too disappear down the twisted corridors
with grace of those who have failed perfectly and

we are completely mad and huge with ourselves
amid the gigantic lobelias and frozen leopards -
the joyful destruction continues

and we recall 'the phenomenological phallus' and the excrutiatingly lovely details

and -

(deceased now)

but I am not interested just now in the poem's meaning (meaning is problematic in any case) interested here in the look of the totality of his work as worked through and I then transform it - as things constantly do in life - in fact I went "berserk" with it almost in trance or a fever, a kind of "creative rage" perhaps: creating a new "poem" or text as in the following image-poem-text-enactment: an implication of an infinite and progressive or degressive process ... I got very angry with it:

-it is the details we require - progress was mentioned - but Buzz kept drinking -

we who also read the technical books and wonder about the blue one and the red one and
and the endless miles to fulfill our wire blood needs &
our quietly desperate hungers - our advancing annihilation and the wonder of tree trunks

Is that dilapidated run down house with the graffiti and the beautiful views available for a squat? Moved in just now and have invited all the animals in the neighbourhood to join me...happy house warming...

Richard Taylor said...

It was an abandoned house just opposite to the road that goes up Mt Wellington or Maungarei - I took shots of it - then one day we found it had been also burnt down - I got close ups not long before the Security closed it right off.
For me there are no answers - the Mass is something incomprehensible (and undoubtedly

On one level of course it is sad and not good...so I am recording what is going on here in NZ particularly Panmure-Mt Wellington (there is irony also of course as this was the site of Pa and also has great history as does so much of the land in NZ - that of Maori and the Pakeha etc (see Reading the Maps )- the grafitti - the vandalism and also the violence etc (there have been a lot of murders and rapes around here and a suicide attempt off Mt Maungarei - a guy trued to kill himself by driving off the edge - he killed his daughter - so joy and sadness - tragedy reality and hope? - we have to continue) - and a part of me thinks - well at least in Remuera they are civilised -this is done by mostly Polynesians or others (either unemployed or on low pay - but certainly of the much vaunted "working class" - the question is why? -

puzzled me. What was this strange writhing and inquiring worm? What was it all about? ( I have trouble with

The other is the ongoing social and existential or ontological question of it all... (there is also perhaps some pure Husserlian and Heideggerian phenomenology at work here) (and a dash of Nietzsche!) and of course it is also a recording what "is" in so far as it can be what it is - "nature" in fact. (As defined)

______________________________________________________

all around cant u see the dragons breath... ???

================================================

For me there are no answers - the Mass is something incomprehensible (and undoubtedly


But also it links to many aspects of what I am doing here - it's good idea to click on the images some of the shots are great - briefly though: life "fights" against destruction and so on... on one level the destruction has its own aesthetic and fascination; on another level it is awful (people lived in that house once) and so on... one of the images shows the Turkish guy who lives near me... he hates

miserable. This is precisely the reason why Boltanski's works are not made of bronze or of marble, but rather of cheap materials such as tinplate; materials that fall into decay by themselves. The artist also uses simple and easily recognizable materials such as coats or photos. To him, everybody is a fragile and unique character whose memories have to be preserved, just like the example of his grandmother: no trace of her existence has left, at the exception of this samovar displayed in the Moscow exhibition or the memory of those who knew her. It is all about "small" individual memory, that is opposed to the "large" collective memory, that of the history books that he also tells throughout his installations. Each of his exhibitions creates a new path made of old pieces combined with new works, which setting is renewed every time.

Boltanski tells that at the beginning of every work of art, there is a historical or psychoanalytic event, referring to events that have to be told in order to be better understood.


(deceased now)


I came here via reading the Maps and I am NOT impressed.

As a typical reader, I want had-hitting action, bang for me bick, NOT self-indulgent postasting and circle jerks by pseudonyms.

C'mon, mate, have some self-respect: do Live or do you EXIST?

You fucking cunt.

Chinese for example! ..but he is else interesting... centres everything in Anatolia and reads strange books in Anatolian about "Mu" and other interesting mysteries - and he raves about Attaturk etc....another image shows a fence on Jellicoe road that has or was hit by a car/truck (boy racer?)
and also there is an image of "rage incident" (the eternal triangle was the cause) and a young man smashed the glass of vehicle that is followed by an image of another smashed window and so on...art via my father's self portrait and that of the great Mannerist artist Parmigianino's (in a convex mirror) and also an abstract by Nick Owens (deceased now) and a work my myself and an artist called Robinson and so on contrast also some "new" Maori art influenced by modernity...all very involved......links perhaps to John Ashbery of "Self Portrait in a Convex Mirror" (he won the Pulitzer with that book) and thus "ash" and so on....all th is perhaps offers hope (or an alternative) and contrasts or it is inextricably linked to it all...

puzzled me. What was this strange writhing and inquiring worm? What was it all about? ( I have trouble with

"Chiming" with the "dark" images are the leaves (the fall of course - what else!) and change and entropy and so on...the drawing in colour I did...

My grandson is the personal aspect and represents possible hope and learning and play and growth and joy - contra the holocaust (or war and destruction in general); this section started with that theme...

Themes - images and texts are repeated as in music - say as in Wagner with his leitmotifs - or as in Bach or Reich or-who knows NZ composers - but there is also Bill Direen and The Dead C

The loss of dialogue in philosophy has been a central problem since Plato; Cavell, applying this to his own work, and that of Thoreau, talks about the dialogue of a “text answerable to itself”. Certainly Philosophical Investigations is the primary instance of such a text in this century, and also a primary instance of taking this practice as method. I can easily imagine more extreme forms of this: where contrasting moods and styles of argument, shifting styles and perspectives, would surface the individual the individual modes and perspectives, would surface the individual modes and their meaning in individual ways, and perhaps further Heidegger’s call for an investigation into “pure thinking” (Thinking is also construction.) Indeed, I can imagine a writing that would provide a philosophic insight but would keep essentially a fabric of
dance – logopoeia – where truth would not be to the validity of argument but to the ontological truthfulness of its meaning.


Bill is very interested in what I am doing here.

but I am not interested just now in the poem's meaning (meaning is problematic in any case) interested here in the look of the totality of his work as worked through and I then transform it - as things constantly do in life - in fact I went "berserk" with it almost in trance or a fever, a kind of "creative rage" perhaps: creating a new "poem" or text as in the following image-poem-text-enactment: an implication of an infinite and progressive or degressive process ... I got very angry with it:


Being an "artist" is very lonely BTW ... in way you are also - perhaps we all are...so you will know...

There some satire but much of what I see is of course very beautiful -the trees (trees fascinate me) the gardens and so on...also women!! There are BTW many positives here
of people of many ethnicities and kinds - and I talk to many on Maungarei and also at the Panmure lagoon or anywhere......there is also a Maori art gallery /work place not far from where I took these pictures (in the Panmure shopping centre) so positive things happening to and by Maori and other (young) Polynesians, the kids who destroyed the house are kind of "lost"...

(deceased now)

And every version seemed to me, peering over and into the austere glass and bossy case, of an equal, or similar merit, or wondrousness. Further: it was the totality as I felt this experience of reading and interpreting, and not understanding, was, for me. Later I realised that there was again here an example of constant process as 'poem' - and my encounter with it was part of an ongoing experience of a work - a work that ( if not for Curnow ) had it's importance for me in its endlessess and its non beginning. Later in lectures on Sartre (particularly his La Nausee) this issue or concept of there not being any place a "story" starts was presented as being problematic for the main protagonist.

But there is also the side of me that enjoyed watching 9/11...the fascination with destruction that we all have...

As Patrick White wrote in 'The Tree of Man'

"Destruction is always more convincing than construction..

tertius said...

Was entropy a theme of Pynchon? Vaguely recall something about systems running inefficiently....9/11 looked like implosion...have viewed most of your links...there are many things I miss from home...one realisation is that the ethnic inequalities in Nz are minimal, on a global scale it is the anglo who is an endangered minority...

Richard Taylor said...

Ultimately we are all part of the cosmic mix! Probably we are "endangered" but I continue to exist for now...

Yes in "The Crying of Lot 49" entropy is big - he also mixes things such as technology and "the noir novel or film (noir?)" Revenge Comedy and so on - great book.

eye is forest

eye is forgive

eye is eternal unterminate torment

eye is could be

eye is possibility

eye is e ...y...e

eye is si

here was curious noise inside … A child crying – eyah, Herregud! … Well, there it was, but a terrible strange thing. And Inger never said a word.

The rugged man stood there with a miracle before him; a thing created first of all in a sacred mist, showing forth now in a life with a little face like an allegory. Days and years; and the miracle would be a human being.

eye is an ancient irradiate star

eye is a black factory

eye is blue

eye is ship

eye is

eye

eye is eternal colour

I started to read "Sons and Lovers” by D. H. Lawrence BTW (there was quote from Huxley’s "The Olive Tree" in a book about war I read so I read that and I saw an essay also by Huxley about Lawrence - with whom was quite a good friend. Thus I divagated onto "Sons and Lovers" - so far very great stuff...

His poetry is very great - we studied his: ‘The Snake’ at high School... Matt gave me a volume of his poetry once.

Regards

tertius said...

The fulcrum of the european entent, churchill wrote in the 1920s of his fears on the russian white national defeat by the bolshieviks and its relation to judaism with trotsky and marx. In a pre nazi carve up of poland the great powers reveal the land grab which ascends upon all regional conflicts... the nature of the beast... bluchers prussians at waterloo...stalins communists at berlin...expediency for churchill but necessary 20 years later...and for collins in ireland a republican pact with america...all around cant u see the dragons breath...

tertius said...

The compromise for neutrality is the crown in the 6 of ulster and america has its foot in europe.... without the crown the waitangi treaty is obsolete and its terms vulnerable...activists tread careful that you may invite entropy into your cause as vampires dont seek other vampires they feed on living blood...

M...O...K...O



outcast, and shows it. For me tattooing is very profound. The meeting of body and, well, the spirit—it’s a real kind of