It is hilarious that David Foster Wallace referred to Sarah Palin as "the Shrub."
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
It’s not like this isn’t common knowledge. We have all heard
this before again and again. Turn on the news and you will find it there,
displayed before your eyes in high definition. This pseudo culture is paraded
before your ears and retinas in a constant bombardment. It’s in the air all
around us. How can one develop defenses against it? I consider it to be
impossible. We are victims to the hegemony. We are controlled by our needs, when
we should be the masters of our needs. Yet we lose our concentration and focus
and let the raw terror of the situation take over. The “raw terror, “let those
words sink in for a bit. Mull them over in your mind if you can. Let the full
significance and weight of their impact settle inside of you. Can you, is this
possible for you? Am I asking too much of you? Is this another obligation that
you are unable to fulfill, just like all of the other obligations that you left
dying on the killing floor so to speak?
All I know is that the numbness creeps up on you and takes
you by surprise. You feel nothing and care about nothing. You have no recognizable
soul or capacity for empathy with anyone else. You become a blind and brutal
force that has no direction or destination. There is no internal apocalyptic
struggle within your soul. The forces of good and evil no longer struggle
within you, only evil exists inside your soul. The most important and difficult
struggle has taken place inside of you and it is over, it is finished. You have
hoisted up the white flag and surrendered. You were the Titanic struggling with
the iceberg. This numbness becomes a proxy for freedom. The truth is that you
are burying your head in the sand hoping to forget. You have become the fodderfor nothingness. The deep dark abyss swallows you whole, engulfed.
Chrismation
Chrismation is the name given in Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox
and Eastern Catholic
churches, as well as in the Assyrian Church of
the East initiation rites, to the sacrament or mystery more commonly known in the West as confirmation,
although Italian normally
uses cresima ("chrismation"), rather than confermazione
("confirmation").
The term chrismation is used
because the recipient of the sacrament is anointed with chrism, which according to eastern Christian
belief, the Apostles sanctified and introduced for all priests to use as a
replacement for laying on of hands
by the Apostles[1] and consists of a "mixture of
forty sweet-smelling substances and pure olive oil"[2] sanctified by a bishop
with some older chrism added in,[3] in the belief that some trace of the
initial chrism sanctified by the Apostles is contained therein.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Writing: just call me lucky #1
Writing: just call me lucky #1: A. nerve gas appetites as shouting angry ghosts seeping in with mustard and wine reaching for the white fool struggling with your fabl...
Friday, October 12, 2012
Roxy Painne and the medicine show - in progress
a mechanical tree in Kansas
dreams of machine death
first there is rust
and then there is pressure
melting it down
to feed the birds
you thought it was a matter
of right and wrong
everybody is talking backwards
I stand on my head
and recire the declaration of independence
a man is checking my feet for wounds
he says he is a priest
but his breath smells like a pedophile
sick dogs
pick up the broken heads
hide them back into the gloom
we tie them up together
a shared infinity
as real as we can get it
it was a sold job
everyone said so
a solid world
we thought we were building America
we painted ourselves into the classical paintings
there we are in the treet scene, with the smoke
canon balls exploding
we are imigrants, fresh off the train
looking for god in the theaters and saloons
dreams of machine death
first there is rust
and then there is pressure
melting it down
to feed the birds
you thought it was a matter
of right and wrong
everybody is talking backwards
I stand on my head
and recire the declaration of independence
a man is checking my feet for wounds
he says he is a priest
but his breath smells like a pedophile
sick dogs
pick up the broken heads
hide them back into the gloom
we tie them up together
a shared infinity
as real as we can get it
it was a sold job
everyone said so
a solid world
we thought we were building America
we painted ourselves into the classical paintings
there we are in the treet scene, with the smoke
canon balls exploding
we are imigrants, fresh off the train
looking for god in the theaters and saloons
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