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hordes of humans running around compulsively diddling their electronic life support units [04 May 2010|02:37am]
quote: "For some un-reason, we feel that our ability to reason is limitless and infinitely perfectable. Nobody has voiced the idea that the exercise of our ability to think can reach the point of diminishing, then negative, returns. It is yet to be persuasively argued that the human propensity for abstract reasoning is a defect of breeding that leads to collective insanity."

He says, "Our species' hypertrophied linguistic abilities have allowed us to create entire systems composed of elements that we either cannot directly observe or cannot observe at all: mathematics, physics, ideologies, theologies, economies, democracies, technocracies and the like, which manipulate abstractions—symbols and relationships between symbols—rather than the concrete, messy, non-atomistic entities that have specific spacial and temporal extents and that constitute reality for all species."

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Leaving myself logged in [28 Dec 2009|11:14am]

This is or is not me - why oh why do I leave things lying about????

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[28 Jan 2009|12:21am]
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cnd was a sea of meaningless mist [25 Dec 2008|03:19am]
The chipmunk ran into the rocks and a butterfly came out. It was as simple as that.


Mad aging sunsets poured in seafoams of cloud through unimaginable crags, with every rose tint of hope beyond, I felt just like it, brilliant and bleak beyond words.

Everywhere awful ice fields and snow straws; one blade of grass jiggling in the winds of infinity, anchored to a rock. To the east, it was gray; to the north, awful; to the west, raging mad, hard iron fools wrestling in the groomian gloom; to the south my father's mist.

Jack mountain, his thousand- foot rock hat overlooked a hundred football fields of snow. Cinnammon creek was an eyrie of Scottish fog. Shull lost itself in the Golden Horn of Bleak. My oil lamp burned in infinity. "Poor gentle flesh," I realized, "there is no answer."


And nothing could induce the gay golden horizons far northeast where there was no storm, to change place with Desolation. Suddenly a green and rose rainbow shafted right down into Salvation Ridge not three hundred yards away from my door, like a bolt, like a pillar: it came among steaming clouds and orange sun turmoiling.

What is a rainbow, lord?
a hoop
for the lowly.
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[10 Dec 2008|02:33am]
The Young

You bastards! It's all sherbet, and folly
makes you laugh like mules. Chances
dance off your wrists, each day ready,

sprites in your bones and spite not yet
swollen, not yet set. You gather handful
after miracle handful, seeing straight,

reaching the lighthouse in record time,
pockets brim with scimitar things. Now
is not a pinpoint but a sprawling realm.

Bewilderment and thrill are whip-quick
twins, carried on your backs, each vow
new to touch and each mistake a broken

biscuit. I was you. Sea robber boarding
the won galleon. Roaring trees. Machines
without levers, easy in bowel and lung.

One cartwheel over the quicksand curve
of Tuesday to Tuesday and you're gone,
summering, a ship on the farthest wave.

Roddy Lumsden
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immersion / mesmer [09 Dec 2008|09:22pm]
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[20 Nov 2008|05:31pm]
not just toolbags: NASA isn't sure where the spider could have gone.
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iRise / Sanctuary! [18 Nov 2008|02:08am]
And also: Border Fence : Arizona tribe says it hinders sacred rites

"Our agency takes enforcement actions when we deem it appropriate," said Julie Myers, assistant secretary of homeland security for ICE. "I am personally not aware of an instance when ICE has gone into a church. That being said, if there was a particular, extremely egregious, ax murderer or something else, that's not to say we would not enforce the law at that time."

"These are people who deliberately violated the law," said Dave Gorak, executive director of the Midwest Coalition to Reduce Immigration. "We can't even enforce the laws without being criticized as Gestapo."

At the same time, ICE must "take into account that there is a public image issue and that they're being taunted," Meissner said.

"We do conduct enforcement activities at a time and place of the government's choosing," said Myers, ICE's top official. "With Ms. Arellano, we believe that an appropriate time was when she was kind of traveling outside of the institution."


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bulla / baali [31 Oct 2008|03:52am]
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[28 Oct 2008|09:16pm]

She will read your arterial
curves pressed flat—gathered in a box,

she will imagine a language
for your seasons—she, who only

translates fall as the ending
of monsoons—she will create

your branch, your roots digging down…

What do you say to someone

who cannot name new worlds?

find the green one with five fingers on fire

charles valle
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ambiguity [28 Oct 2008|02:53am]
A freedom which is occupied in denying freedom is itself so outrageous that the outrageousness of the violence which one practices against it is almost canceled out:

But that is not the worst thing to be said for violence. It not only forces us to sacrifice the men who are in our way, but also those who are fighting at our side, and even ourselves. Since we can conquer our enemies only by acting upon their facticity, by reducing them to things, we have to make ourselves into things; in this struggle in which wills are forced to confront each other through their bodies, the bodies of our allies, like those of our opponents, are exposed to the same brutal hazard: they will be wounded, killed, or starved. Every war, every revolution, demands the sacrifice of a generation, of a collectivity, by those who undertake it. And even outside the periods of crisis when blood flows, the permanent possibility of violence can constitute between nations and classes a state of veiled warfare in which individuals are sacrificed in a permanent way.
Thus one finds himself in the presence of the paradox that no action can be generated from man without its being immediately being generated against men. This obvious truth, which is universally known, is, however, so bitter that the first concern of a doctrine of action is ordinarily to mask this element of failure that is involved in any undertaking. The parties of oppression beg the question; they deny the value of what they sacrifice in such a way that they find that they are sacrificing nothing. Passing dishonestly from the serious to nihilism, they set up both the unconditioned value of their end and the insignificance of the men they are using as instruments. High as it may be, the number of victims is always measurable; and each one taken one by one is never anything but an individual: yet, through time and space, the triumph of the cause embraces the infinite, it interests the cause of the collectivity. In order to deny the outrage it is enough to deny the importance of the individual, even though it be at the cost of this collectivity: it is everything, he is only a zero.

de beauvioir
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the human phoneme experiment [20 Oct 2008|01:42am]
leader of the free world

Toby, the weirder of the three called to say I should fucked. Irrespondable if I don't, better not sit a tome. Just I'm a chump if they twin, he said. So what if they twin, it's all the shame to me. Abomination or Abel killer. Time biding or impale. According to the reader of the weekly furled, the refuse show we can't extinguish between osama hussein talabani a coughing fit. God bless you, we say.

Better a dealer of the weed rolled to make states, knows how to handle his funny business, at least, shares well and wall street the other kids fairly. And what about the feeder of the weak and cold? For say, "I'm a probiotic candida. I'll bacteriophage your rights. As a former Colon, foreign bodies will be eliminated smoothly. My intestinal relations mean movement. Bloat for me for eater of the cinnamon swirl."

Just, before they institute a new daft I need to stray: police stake your hands off my notion. I won't scare if the sea rush in from your house. Forage ample, your ergonomic policies are lake pouring honey down the brain. Or in roulette, the loader of the fee whirled always takes the big—and you bet battle. Rut I need is pro-leave, not one hunted yearns of servitude, a rocky or irony.

Allah few, too. Not that I don’t loofah your back but I don’t rust any of you. See, merry cons think our way is the burst way: If you’re knot with us we’ll ring freedom to your con tree, too. But wipe up your fingers in a free pie? Bark off a little. This isn’t our response ability. We mote manifest dust in eye. Instead let’s antidote for a pro-laugh candid trait. Without summon nestea, we’ll never hear the speaker of the real word.
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Because of You [13 Oct 2008|12:28pm]
We have lost our balloons. For e.g.,
you haven't cleaned the kitchen, as in wiped the counters, fridge,
and the stove, ever.
You fearfully do the laundry nor pay the bills.
What scam of "I", your maid-to-order? Your mad. Yours ruing,

You look up from your reading. I have nothing to wear, you say.
Joust ware what you heave bombs, I ricochet. You sorry sack of no
soiree. Ay?! Ay?!
Your sitting there on the couch is infused with nothingness.
It's for crying out loud. It throes itself in duel, the opposite of dance. It
thinks straight from the cartoon.

OK, are you a task hole and your crotch a sport of inflatable crutch?
Or are you a brimming brevity whole body a tremor off the fire's
ever here in our living-room with the television on FOX
for fuck's sake? Yes! Yes! Yeah, we have lost our
way, our little one with her sweet fragile life of her own. At night
I sit up and listen for her breathing.

heidi lynn staples

6Collapse )
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[04 Sep 2008|11:03am]
new clear ground soil, enter mine verdantic pore mouth injury more thermometer. In duck thing eater ice some hat trick yesterday stirred pour in glourious mission Anther power inter.

note new swoon at/intention rod tensor door re:actor sends her moor easting ten yous as king, in choir ring a link for to change errant emo geronimo fine ding in france call asp ear amid tenuous wounded round finger let atimber, skew a spear, fermi a fourmis ant, is this history.


watusi waddle to seer pan cross tryst, striate pancreas insolent what to see was Leto's plank roster.


eri'skill, end my eros era and erishkegal call kegels quill. A risk i'll lend a rose randy irish keys alchohol kegs wish elk become Moose, lend meeses and how? it's her mouse muse. Mess, i'm used to mosey ingrift and shift-c sea shrift ease raft err is colander staghetti, ishkay?
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[26 Jun 2008|02:45am]
a wreck, reckon no Oreck, ah-VACUUM! (guess youn'd heist) ages you need heat steal, teal aquamarine / marinate agua-tic toctrek toward dreckon a qumquat. Kantric writ you all, with dual actions on sin, Zion's zen met Herod method. He rode (thudding) dong linging bell ring galang ylang gallon. Lion lent record, according to accordion. To die on actknoll now ledger, cliff lifting hedge or primrose. By king rode submerge in deep blue V. Does you merger in coal doubled? Squeal cools keel over sale, rudder rennt merideth/on hand. iCap access to, oh, limpics. See, high enough to shakbar, are a bac sail with d'oh, nuts. I forget.
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Garrett Keizer in Harper's [23 Jun 2008|03:39pm]
It would be misleading to imply that every knowledgeable member of the Anglican Communion interprets the newsworthy events of its recent past in terms of a crisis. For church scholar Ian Douglas, the situation in the Anglican Communion and beyond represents "a new Pentecost," one in which marginalized countries and marginalized groups of people are both rising and converging, with plenty of friction in the process, but with an ultimate outcome in which "the Ian Douglases of the world: straight, white, male, clerical, overly educated, financially secure, English-speaking, well-pensioned, professionally established," will move to the margins while people previously marginalized will come to the center. "So my salvation is caught up in the full voicing of those who have historically been marginalized. What we're seeing in a lot of these church antics is an attempt at a reimposition of an old order." Douglas is among those who see the rise of religious fundamentalism not as a reaction to modernity but as modernity's "last vestiges," the remains of a binary worldview of us and them, black and white, orthodox and heretic.

This all sounds compelling to me, though, as I tell Douglas, I remain an unreconstructed binary thinker, my view of the world being pretty much divided between the people who have a pot to piss in and people who don't. My tendency-- perhaps my temptation-- is to see the church crisis, at least in America, as I see most other political disputes between bourgeois conservatives and bourgeois liberals: as cosmetically differentiated versions of the same earnest quest for moral rectitude in the face of one's collusion in an economic system of gross inequality. It goes without saying that by touting this stark binary, I, too, am seeking to establish my rectitude. Still the question remains: How does a Christian population implicated in militarism, usury, sweatshop labor, and environmental rape find a way to sleep at night? Apparently, by making a very big deal out of not sleeping with Gene Robinson. Or, in the flip side, by making the approval of Gene Robinson the litmus test of progressive integrity, a stance that I have good reason to believe would impress no one so little as Gene Robinson himself. Says he:

"I don't believe there is any topic addressed more often and more deeply in Scripture than our treatment of the poor, the distribution of wealth, of resources, and the danger of wealth to our souls. One third of all the parables and one sixth of all the words Jesus is recorded to have uttered have to do with this topic, and yet we don't hear the biblical literalists making arguments about that."

If this is sodomy, sign me up.
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arugula [10 Jun 2008|04:58pm]
are you gulag? /argue lag:scissors
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[28 Feb 2008|09:24pm]
Global Execution Specialist

Reply to: see below
Date: 2008-02-26, 12:53AM CST

Prudential Financial companies serve individual and institutional customers worldwide and include The Prudential Insurance Company of America, one of the largest life insurance companies in the United States. These companies offer a variety of products and services, including life insurance, mutual funds, annuities, pension and retirement-related services and administration, asset management, banking and trust services, real estate brokerage franchises, relocation services and, through a joint venture, retail securities brokerage services. For more information, visit www.prudential.com.

Responsible for the effective direction and execution of order flow between domestic and international futures exchanges.
Acts as liaison to resolve issues between clients and sales staff on both domestic and international exchanges.
May provide training and direction to more junior staff.
Typically has 5+ years experience.


Must be Series 3 Registered.
Must be familiar with Asian and European Markets, Currency and Metal EFP's, TT, GL and PATS.
Must be willing to work various shifts.

Prudential is an Equal Opportunity/Affirmative Action Employer and is committed to diversity in its workforce.

Any applicant selected for this position will be required to submit to an extensive background screening and a credit check. Failure to comply will eliminate an applicant from consideration for this position.

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(i love you (just means i wor(k)ship the gdss n u)) [19 Feb 2008|10:04pm]
there is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest--whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories--comes afterwards. These are games; one must first answer. An if it is true, as Nietzsche claims, that a philosopher, to deserve our respect, must preach by example, you can appreciate the importance of that reply, for it will precede the definite act. These are facts the heart can feel; yet they call for a careful study before they become clear to the intellect.


halos, afterglows, coronas

In the wake of a human being's death, what survives is a set of afterglows, some brigher and some dimmer, in the collective brains of all those who were dearest to them. And then those people in turn pass on, the afterglow become extremely faint. And when that outer layer in turn passes into oblivion, then the afterglow is feebler still, and after a while there is nothing left.
The slow process of extinction I've just described, though gloomy, is a little less gloomy than the standard view. Because bodily death is so clear, so sharp, and so dramatic, and because we tend to cling to the caged-bird view, death strikes us as instantaneous and absolute, as sharp as a guillotine blade. Our instinct is to believe that the light has once and for all gone out altogether. I suggest that this is not the case for human souls, because the essence of a human being--truly unlike the essence of a mosquito or a snake or a bird or a pig--is distributed over many a brain. It takes a couple of generations for a soul to subside, for the flickering to cease, for all the embers to burn out. Although "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" may in the end be true, the transition it describes is not so sharp as we tend to think.
It seems to me, therefore, that the instinctive although seldom articulated purpose of holding a funeral or memorial service is to reunite the people most intimate with the deceased, and to collectively rekindle in them all, for one last time, the special living flame that represents the essence of that beloved person, profiting directly or indirectly from the presence of one another, feeling the shared presence of that person in the brains that remain, and this solidifying to the maximal extent possible those secondary personal gemmae that remain aflicker in all these different brains. Though the primary brain has been eclipsed, there is, in those who remain and who are gathered to remember and reactivate the spirit of the departed, a collective corona that still glows. This is what human love means. The word "love" cannot, thus, be separated from the word "I"; the more deeply rooted the symbol for someone inside you, the greater the love, the brighter the light that remains behind.

and what i want to know is / how do you like your blueeyed boy / Mister Death

1)what is the meaning of the poem and what is the experience?
2)what thought or reflection does the experience lead us to?
3)what mood, feeling, emotion is stirred or created by the poem as a whole?


To do justice, just as a (remy)nder of past trancegressions to those who, once trussed or st/heeled or toes, who ounce for ounce now trust less than mighty. Am I waking miscellany sense? If for giving up me-mores to boot (or to heel?) to heal 3eye may reiki-ndle to re-quest. Ions, particulars, if unAbel to do so, w to be quest shuns. Comprice? A conpadre in abcess of that lacking took instead to licking. Steady, and not just corporeal, but incorporate psycho. To hell? to heal. Wither the whether you wend, cyclo?

Oh, and
Hand you not noun all, ready when you spied her? Had only sp(hide)here, when he lied or down. Had you but seen while you and Mary fumed to get her, just is/was here all a longlegged, a wi(n)dow to how deity died, he. Didn't just crack your con. Crete when Colossus fell. Sam! Your eye! Light-in his candle is like brea(king of bread), the you-ch rist. The house of bread, three kings, and the star in the east all point to the Ra-sing sun. Don't bushel, you basketcase.

Don't just forge it. Set on fire, remy-ember?

rip Rahula Jeremy Jesus Fucking Christ McFreedom Today
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[21 Jan 2008|03:55am]
Remember the muppet show?

even better
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