Old image was out of date a year and a half...Okay here I am at 40...Eye of Horus is doctored in PS in my reflection...Have always sported the idea that I would like one of those!Lol!BIO (DOB:7-1964)
Musical tastes:I've always found music to be sympathetic to image flow...
Besides the music I make myself,my musical tastes are varied:Some ecclectic classisal masterpieces like Bach's 'Tocatta and Fugue',Carl Orff's 'Carmen Burana',some Legetti vocal chorals like the work he did for '2001 Space Odyssey',all Paganini Violin Etudes;much of Ennio Morricone's work;Ekova's 'Heaven's Dust';Marta Sebastiani and the Muszikas;on the softer side all Leonard Cohen;and then obcourse there's a steady diet of hard rock:Zeppelin including Jimmy Page guitar solos,Midwestern US punk scene:including Dischord Label releases like Fugazi and Lungfish;Sublime did the ska righteous!;Beck is an RE(Recording Engineer)genius!;Tool thumps out the wicked Bass;Nirvana exited the stage too early;varied industrial,yata,yata yata...
Ah!
What sort of fool am I?Wayward, and with an elemental pack upon my shoulder stepping off into some abyss with a pup nipping at my heels? I neither turn nor interpret any oracles yet consider myself the student of the arkanas that inform them(this applies to cowrie shells,yarrow stalks,natal charts, and cards alike)...What sort of fool am I?
One that believes that a sunrise or sunset perceived from the right perspective can teach volumes more than can be contained on any bookshelf...Yet twenty or so years ago,I was making my first delvings into Helena Blavatsky,comparative Semitic languages and the study of Torah...and hypocrite that I am,a Khayam Rhubayat and Rhumi volumes are among the dusty treasures in my three large oak bookshelves of essentials...I think Ravel and Liszt merely plagiarized the gypsy ghosts they heard playing for them in the dreamplanes..and nowadays I find myself studying mostly digital tech manuals for visual and audio computer arts...And Sophia glows quietly in her dark corner while Baudelaire snaps pencils muttering blasphemies...Ah.what kind of fool am I?
Attila said,"What use has a man for these effete pedantries" and then died in his tent with scars on his face at the age of forty-two...With Ezra Pound I say,"You swollen magpies,tear down thy vanities",burn your pedantic and narcissistic reading lists...Let life be your jubilence and art...Don't limp through on such thin and transparent crutches that wreak of your petty existentially angst insecurities to gather meaning by claiming to have absorbed the creations of others...Burn those crutches I say..Ah, but what kind of fool am I?
Was reading a post on a website a few months back that quoted Bohr as saying,"I am Become Death the Destroyer of Worlds"...and attributed that Bohr had derived this quote from the Bhagavad Gita...Whereas actually it was Yama Raja that said this to Nachiketa in the Katha Upanishad...But I didn't need to email a correction...At least the author communicating in his own way knew he was tapping a Vedic stream, and afterall,what sort of fool am I?
Oh you socalled avantes,don't confuse your intellectual acquisitions with pedigree or aristocracy...Come down in the mud and be with the rest of us...Mud is good...Mud is comfortable...Mud is Maternal...Feel it's warm chemical process of composting going on around you...One day we will all recline and become unmade...embrace your own unbecoming...it may be a more tender and comfortable process than you would suspect...food for the worm...food for the future...so say I...but,What kind of fool am I?
For the love of correction is endearing only in a school marm,IMHO...and elsewise is pedantry veiling deeprooted insecurities..So say I,but alas,what sort of fool am I?
A Sufic fool?Beware my thorns...A whirling Dhervish of a fool,drunk on the wine and ecstacy of this world?...
The children became enamoured of the illusions of the witch...jumeaux-such strange twins beneath the essence of things-syzygies in interplay("Virgo mercurially and serpentine streams her twin Adam from her side-Gemini-thus it was Adam born from the rib of Eve-they say Virgo and Orion are both the gaseous nebulae playgrounds of many a new star-classically Mercury ruled them both meaning mercury was the local conduit for these constellating galaxies-solstices solsticing-seasonal shifts-a perihelion shift minutely affecting the tug of war between Titanic gaseous giants-a fractal equation of delicate electromagnetic relationships-this dance of the planets that dhervishes imitate-or so they taught at 'Starry Wisdom's'cool'"-but please give no ear to these astrosophical Gnostic heretics, as we thought we had burned them all!) ...But I, the lowly crow,cackling as I flew-janitor of the foodchain- nibbled up the manna they left behind...
Aesop left Damascus that day, departing for an order that cast pottery vessels...The journey was made by camel...Upon the ferry a scholar criticized his poor grammar-and told him half his life had been wasted...Moments later with water about their ankles,Aesop asked the scholar,have you studied swimming?-this ferry is sinking,tell me whose life is wasted now?Ah,but what sort of fool am I?
But alas let us not focus too much on this one leaf while there is such a beautiful forest about us...Aatz Chioth, this strange tree of life...Beth,Resh,Shin,Tav...Aa,Ba,Ga...Alpha,Beta,Gamma...alphabets and their mysteries...And priestcrafts that corrupt these scribes' sanctities as Nietsche pointed out-bringing about needed purgings and iconoclastic regimes(every eighty seven-years or so when a Uranian breeze-geist billows over the planet machine)...And yet Sophia in her corner softly smiling in silent perennial possession of the source of it all...and something whispers to my mind...Ah,what sort of fool am I?
Manitas deLas Platas was strumming wild Andalusian chords...Gertrude Stein in a wave of Saphic ecstasy jammed a fork into George Bernard Shaw's cheek saying, "I'll shut that jabberwocky of an ideological pontiff up"...Picasso couldn't stop laughing about it, as the blood splashed upon the wooden floorboards(his 'La Guernica' was hanging on the wall of the tavern receiving its first viewing-Franco was sleeping,so they had all sneaked across the border to party)...Hemmingway silenced the rumors of the event with hush hush pesos...and they say the love of ritual has died...the chords thrashed on...and thus ends this Bohemian Rhapsody!...Ah,but what sort of fool am I?
