shakespeare
was not an english...
he was too romantic
to be an english...
shakespeare came from the deep mountains
of Spain
or maybe Italia
shakespeare journeyed inside the deep dreams
deep rainy dreams
deep dark dreams
deep death dreams
and shakespeare pulled out poems, sonnets, songs, and plays
shakespeare whipped england
with manuscripts
and drugs
and wine
and women
shakespare was not an english
he was too romantic
to be an english
--
Shakespeare
no era una Inglese ...
él era demasiado romántica
ser un Inglese ...
Shakespeare vino de las montañas profundas
de España
o tal vez Italia
Shakespeare partió el interior de los sueños profundos
profundos sueños de lluvia
profundos sueños oscuros
sueños de muerte profundas
Shakespeare y sacó poemas, sonetos, canciones y obras de teatro
Shakespeare azotado Inglaterra
con manuscritos
y drogas
y el vino
y mujeres
Shakespare no era ingles
él era demasiado romántica
ser un inglese
Friday, March 31, 2017
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Chicas dentro de la pantalla
Me están gritando
ellos tienen
Arcos en el pelo
Y lápiz de labios en sus labios.
Chicas dentro de la pantalla,
Se visten provocativamente
Y me hablan de
Sueños y playas y libros y secretos.
Los veo tomando café
Los miro nadar
Hago un plato de espaguetis
Y los miro
Yo veo
Yo veo
yo espero.
Chicas dentro de mi pantalla
¿Cómo llegaron allí?
¿de dónde vienen?
¿Se escaparán?
¿lo harán?
Quiero saltar en la pantalla o
Quiero sacarlos
Chuparlos como langostas
Quiero chuparlos
Chuparlos
Quiero ahuyentarlos
Explotarlos
Chicas dentro de mi pantalla
chicas guapas
Chicas buenas
Chicas inteligentes
Chicas españolas
Chicas ecaudóreas
Chicas brasileñas
Chicas colombianas
Chicas mexicanas
Chicas venuzuelanas
oye oye oye oye
Todas son muchachas tan hermosas
Quiero ayudarles a salir
Fuera de mi pantalla
la pantalla
La pantalla sagrada
La pantalla sagrada
Me permite ver
chicas.--------------------------------
Girls inside the screen
are screaming at me
they have
bows in their hair
and lipstick on their lips.
girls inside the screen,
they dress provocatively
and they talk to me of
dreams and beaches and books and secrets.
i watch them drinking coffee
i watch them swimming
i make a bowl of spaghetti
and i watch them
i watch
i watch
i wait.
girls inside MY screen
how did they get in there?
where do they come from?
will they escape?
will they?
i want to jump in the screen or
i want to pull them out---
suck them out like lobsters
i want to suck them out
suck them out
i want to blow them out
blow them out
Girls inside my screen
pretty girls
nice girls
intelligent girls
Spanish girls
Ecuadorean girls
Brazilian girls
Colombian girls
Mexican girls
Venezuelan girls
hey hey hey hey
they are all such beautiful girls
i want to help them break out
out of my screen
the screen
the holy screen
the sacred screen
it lets me see
girls.
Me están gritando
ellos tienen
Arcos en el pelo
Y lápiz de labios en sus labios.
Chicas dentro de la pantalla,
Se visten provocativamente
Y me hablan de
Sueños y playas y libros y secretos.
Los veo tomando café
Los miro nadar
Hago un plato de espaguetis
Y los miro
Yo veo
Yo veo
yo espero.
Chicas dentro de mi pantalla
¿Cómo llegaron allí?
¿de dónde vienen?
¿Se escaparán?
¿lo harán?
Quiero saltar en la pantalla o
Quiero sacarlos
Chuparlos como langostas
Quiero chuparlos
Chuparlos
Quiero ahuyentarlos
Explotarlos
Chicas dentro de mi pantalla
chicas guapas
Chicas buenas
Chicas inteligentes
Chicas españolas
Chicas ecaudóreas
Chicas brasileñas
Chicas colombianas
Chicas mexicanas
Chicas venuzuelanas
oye oye oye oye
Todas son muchachas tan hermosas
Quiero ayudarles a salir
Fuera de mi pantalla
la pantalla
La pantalla sagrada
La pantalla sagrada
Me permite ver
chicas.--------------------------------
Girls inside the screen
are screaming at me
they have
bows in their hair
and lipstick on their lips.
girls inside the screen,
they dress provocatively
and they talk to me of
dreams and beaches and books and secrets.
i watch them drinking coffee
i watch them swimming
i make a bowl of spaghetti
and i watch them
i watch
i watch
i wait.
girls inside MY screen
how did they get in there?
where do they come from?
will they escape?
will they?
i want to jump in the screen or
i want to pull them out---
suck them out like lobsters
i want to suck them out
suck them out
i want to blow them out
blow them out
Girls inside my screen
pretty girls
nice girls
intelligent girls
Spanish girls
Ecuadorean girls
Brazilian girls
Colombian girls
Mexican girls
Venezuelan girls
hey hey hey hey
they are all such beautiful girls
i want to help them break out
out of my screen
the screen
the holy screen
the sacred screen
it lets me see
girls.
El Chico De la Selva
El chico de la selva era una zapatilla de tiempo.
Se deslizó a través de pequeñas grietas, como hierba en el pavimento.
Fumó su pipa
Entendió el reloj de tiempo
Él era la zapatilla profunda
"¿Alguna vez viste a Colombia en medio de un sueño, amigo?
¿Alguna vez oíste el grito de la guacamaya en Medellín?
¿Has oído alguna vez al capuchino? ¿Alguna vez has oído el mono araña?
Vuelan y follan y huyen y gritan amigo ...
debes escuchar"
El chico de la selva era una zapatilla de tiempo.
Se deslizó a través de pequeñas grietas, como hierba en el pavimento.
Escribió poemas en las aceras
Bailaba en curvas
Vio a las mujeres
Vio los globos oculares
Vio los secretos
Fumó su pipa
Y entendió el reloj de tiempo
El reloj de tiempo
"Es lo más importante de todo para una verdadera
Zapatilla profunda ... "
Ahora estoy en su cocina,
Los suelos están lloviendo
Todo está mojado y travieso
Yo estoy feliz
El olor es el cielo
El rostro de Dios en mi sopa
y.....
Yo flojo
lejos.
-------------------
the rainforest kid was a time slipper.
he slipped in through little cracks, like grass on pavement.
he smoked his pipe
he understood the time clock
he was the deep slipper
"you ever see Colombia in the middle of a dream, friend?
you ever hear the cry of the macaw in Medellin?
you ever heard the capuchin? you ever heard the spider monkey?
they fly and fuck and flee and scream friend...
you must LISTEN"
the rainforest kid was a time slipper.
he slipped in through little cracks, like grass on pavement.
he wrote poems on sidewalks
he danced on curves
he saw the women
he saw the eyeballs
he saw the secrets
he smoked his pipe
and he understood the time clock
the time clock
"its the most important thing of all for a real
deep slipper..."
Now I am in his kitchen,
the floors are pouring rain
everything is wet and wicked
i am happy
the smell is heaven
the face of God in my soup
and.....
i float
away.
Se deslizó a través de pequeñas grietas, como hierba en el pavimento.
Fumó su pipa
Entendió el reloj de tiempo
Él era la zapatilla profunda
"¿Alguna vez viste a Colombia en medio de un sueño, amigo?
¿Alguna vez oíste el grito de la guacamaya en Medellín?
¿Has oído alguna vez al capuchino? ¿Alguna vez has oído el mono araña?
Vuelan y follan y huyen y gritan amigo ...
debes escuchar"
El chico de la selva era una zapatilla de tiempo.
Se deslizó a través de pequeñas grietas, como hierba en el pavimento.
Escribió poemas en las aceras
Bailaba en curvas
Vio a las mujeres
Vio los globos oculares
Vio los secretos
Fumó su pipa
Y entendió el reloj de tiempo
El reloj de tiempo
"Es lo más importante de todo para una verdadera
Zapatilla profunda ... "
Ahora estoy en su cocina,
Los suelos están lloviendo
Todo está mojado y travieso
Yo estoy feliz
El olor es el cielo
El rostro de Dios en mi sopa
y.....
Yo flojo
lejos.
-------------------
the rainforest kid was a time slipper.
he slipped in through little cracks, like grass on pavement.
he smoked his pipe
he understood the time clock
he was the deep slipper
"you ever see Colombia in the middle of a dream, friend?
you ever hear the cry of the macaw in Medellin?
you ever heard the capuchin? you ever heard the spider monkey?
they fly and fuck and flee and scream friend...
you must LISTEN"
the rainforest kid was a time slipper.
he slipped in through little cracks, like grass on pavement.
he wrote poems on sidewalks
he danced on curves
he saw the women
he saw the eyeballs
he saw the secrets
he smoked his pipe
and he understood the time clock
the time clock
"its the most important thing of all for a real
deep slipper..."
Now I am in his kitchen,
the floors are pouring rain
everything is wet and wicked
i am happy
the smell is heaven
the face of God in my soup
and.....
i float
away.
further poems spanish/ingles
Veo narcisos blancos, y la lluvia, y estoy sentado en el medio de la selva ....
Es la mañana, un lunes
Todo es muy bonito, muy bonito, pero estoy hambriento ...
Puedo intentar soñar Creo, puedo tratar de viajar en mi mente,
Lejos del hambre en mi Estómago,
Puedo tratar de pensar mis pensamientos --- todos mis pensamientos
En dulce español bueno.
Puedo atar mi cola de caballo y empezar a correr y se debilitan y se cansan,
Puedo sostener mi pistola y soplar esta pistola y gritar y
Puedo ver a los monos en las ramas, en los árboles, gritando, chillando, riendo, saltando, jugando, bailando
Oh, sabes que voy a abrir mis ojos y convertirse en un extranjero y
Voy a empezar a sacudir mi culo gritando como los monos
Y estaré vestido como un abogado
O un pescador
O un malabarista
O un payaso
O un camarero
O un viajero en el tiempo
Y voy a tener melodías goteo de mis labios, me sentaré aquí cantando Shakira, Shakira, voy a cantar canciones Jocelin Rosalez ....
En medio de la selva
En el medio de México
En las profundidades lejanas de la selva tropical
Todas estas palabras españolas escapando de mí
Fuera de mis pezones afilados
Fuera de mi coño afilado
Fuera de mi culo afilado
Hey hey
mamá
Dije que te muevas, te mueves
Y estoy solo
estoy solo
yo soy
solo.
----------------
i see white daffodils, and rain, and i am sitting in the middle of the jungle....
it is the morning, on a monday
everything is very beautiful,very pretty, but i am starving...
I can try to dream I think, i can try to travel in my mind,
away from the hunger in my Stomach,
i can try to think my thoughts --- all my thoughts
in sweet good spanish.
I can tie my ponytail and start to run and get weak and get tired,
I can hold my pistol and blow this gun and scream and
I can see the monkeys in the branches, on the trees, screaming, shrieking, laughing, jumping, playing, dancing----
Oh you know I'll pop my eyes out and become an Alien and
I will start shaking my Ass screaming like the monkeys
and I'll be dressed like a lawyer
or a fisherman
or a juggler
or a clown
or a bartender
or a time traveler
and I will have melodies drip from my lips, I will sit here singing Shakira, Shakira, I will sing Jocelin Rosalez songs....
In the middle of the jungle
in the middle of Mexico
in the far off depths of the rainforest
all these spanish words leaking out of me
out of my sharp nipples
out of my sharp cunt
out of my sharp ass
hey, hey
mama
i said you move, you move
and I am alone
i am alone
i am
alone.
Es la mañana, un lunes
Todo es muy bonito, muy bonito, pero estoy hambriento ...
Puedo intentar soñar Creo, puedo tratar de viajar en mi mente,
Lejos del hambre en mi Estómago,
Puedo tratar de pensar mis pensamientos --- todos mis pensamientos
En dulce español bueno.
Puedo atar mi cola de caballo y empezar a correr y se debilitan y se cansan,
Puedo sostener mi pistola y soplar esta pistola y gritar y
Puedo ver a los monos en las ramas, en los árboles, gritando, chillando, riendo, saltando, jugando, bailando
Oh, sabes que voy a abrir mis ojos y convertirse en un extranjero y
Voy a empezar a sacudir mi culo gritando como los monos
Y estaré vestido como un abogado
O un pescador
O un malabarista
O un payaso
O un camarero
O un viajero en el tiempo
Y voy a tener melodías goteo de mis labios, me sentaré aquí cantando Shakira, Shakira, voy a cantar canciones Jocelin Rosalez ....
En medio de la selva
En el medio de México
En las profundidades lejanas de la selva tropical
Todas estas palabras españolas escapando de mí
Fuera de mis pezones afilados
Fuera de mi coño afilado
Fuera de mi culo afilado
Hey hey
mamá
Dije que te muevas, te mueves
Y estoy solo
estoy solo
yo soy
solo.
----------------
i see white daffodils, and rain, and i am sitting in the middle of the jungle....
it is the morning, on a monday
everything is very beautiful,very pretty, but i am starving...
I can try to dream I think, i can try to travel in my mind,
away from the hunger in my Stomach,
i can try to think my thoughts --- all my thoughts
in sweet good spanish.
I can tie my ponytail and start to run and get weak and get tired,
I can hold my pistol and blow this gun and scream and
I can see the monkeys in the branches, on the trees, screaming, shrieking, laughing, jumping, playing, dancing----
Oh you know I'll pop my eyes out and become an Alien and
I will start shaking my Ass screaming like the monkeys
and I'll be dressed like a lawyer
or a fisherman
or a juggler
or a clown
or a bartender
or a time traveler
and I will have melodies drip from my lips, I will sit here singing Shakira, Shakira, I will sing Jocelin Rosalez songs....
In the middle of the jungle
in the middle of Mexico
in the far off depths of the rainforest
all these spanish words leaking out of me
out of my sharp nipples
out of my sharp cunt
out of my sharp ass
hey, hey
mama
i said you move, you move
and I am alone
i am alone
i am
alone.
estoy escribiendo
Buena suerte poemas
para mi amigo
mi buen amigo
Estoy escribiendo poemas de buena suerte
Porque el dice
Mi hija está enferma
Y no sabemos qué
Está Mal"
Mi amigo, no verá
este poema
No lo enviaré
a él
Pero lo estoy escribiendo
Porque es un poema de buena suerte
es un
Poema del rezo.
Hey padre oye
Dios
Hey zeus
Hola a todos
Hey mohammed
Oye quien sea
Oye quien sea
Ayudar a mi amigo ayudar a mi amigo?
necesitamos ayuda
Necesitamos oraciones
Necesitamos bendiciones
Necesitamos el amor
Mi hija está enferma
No sabemos lo que está mal "
Hey padre
Odio esas palabras
Hey padre, trae a mi amigo
Y su hija
Fuera bajo el sol
Hey hey
Déjalos bailar de nuevo
Déjalos cantar gratis
Oye
En la oscuridad de la noche
Yo y yo
yo escribo
este poema
Poema de buena suerte
Me senté a escribir de
Reyes y torres y
Magos
Pero mi amigo me dijo
Mi hija está enferma
Y no sabemos lo que es
incorrecto"
Así que ahora no puedo concentrarme
No puedo escapar, hombre
Así que ahora escribo
yo escribo
Solo escribo
Este poema de buena suerte
Es simple
es rápido
Rezo por suerte
Rezo por la fortuna
ayudar a mi
amigo
Ayudar a mi amigo
ayudar a mi
amigo
----------------
i am writing
good luck poems
for my friend
my good friend
i am writing good luck poems
because he says
"my daughter is sick
and we do not know what
is wrong"
my friend, he will not see
this poem
i will not send it
to him
but i am writing it
because it is a good luck poem
it is a
prayer poem.
hey father hey
God
hey zeus
hey Allah
hey mohammed
hey whoever
hey whoever
help my friend help my buddy?
we need help
we need prayers
we need blessings
we need LOVE.
"my daughter is sick
we do not know what is wrong"
hey father,
i hate those words
hey father, bring my friend
and his daughter
out beneath the Sun
hey hey
let them dance again
let them sing free
hey
in the dark of the night
i and i
i write
this poem
good luck poem
i sat down to write of
kings and towers and
wizards.
but my friend said to me
"my daughter is sick
and we do not know what is
wrong"
so now i cannot concentrate
i cannot escape, man
so now i write
i write
i just write
this good luck poem
it is simple
it is fast
i pray for luck
i pray for fortune
help my
friend
help my friend
help my
friend
Buena suerte poemas
para mi amigo
mi buen amigo
Estoy escribiendo poemas de buena suerte
Porque el dice
Mi hija está enferma
Y no sabemos qué
Está Mal"
Mi amigo, no verá
este poema
No lo enviaré
a él
Pero lo estoy escribiendo
Porque es un poema de buena suerte
es un
Poema del rezo.
Hey padre oye
Dios
Hey zeus
Hola a todos
Hey mohammed
Oye quien sea
Oye quien sea
Ayudar a mi amigo ayudar a mi amigo?
necesitamos ayuda
Necesitamos oraciones
Necesitamos bendiciones
Necesitamos el amor
Mi hija está enferma
No sabemos lo que está mal "
Hey padre
Odio esas palabras
Hey padre, trae a mi amigo
Y su hija
Fuera bajo el sol
Hey hey
Déjalos bailar de nuevo
Déjalos cantar gratis
Oye
En la oscuridad de la noche
Yo y yo
yo escribo
este poema
Poema de buena suerte
Me senté a escribir de
Reyes y torres y
Magos
Pero mi amigo me dijo
Mi hija está enferma
Y no sabemos lo que es
incorrecto"
Así que ahora no puedo concentrarme
No puedo escapar, hombre
Así que ahora escribo
yo escribo
Solo escribo
Este poema de buena suerte
Es simple
es rápido
Rezo por suerte
Rezo por la fortuna
ayudar a mi
amigo
Ayudar a mi amigo
ayudar a mi
amigo
----------------
i am writing
good luck poems
for my friend
my good friend
i am writing good luck poems
because he says
"my daughter is sick
and we do not know what
is wrong"
my friend, he will not see
this poem
i will not send it
to him
but i am writing it
because it is a good luck poem
it is a
prayer poem.
hey father hey
God
hey zeus
hey Allah
hey mohammed
hey whoever
hey whoever
help my friend help my buddy?
we need help
we need prayers
we need blessings
we need LOVE.
"my daughter is sick
we do not know what is wrong"
hey father,
i hate those words
hey father, bring my friend
and his daughter
out beneath the Sun
hey hey
let them dance again
let them sing free
hey
in the dark of the night
i and i
i write
this poem
good luck poem
i sat down to write of
kings and towers and
wizards.
but my friend said to me
"my daughter is sick
and we do not know what is
wrong"
so now i cannot concentrate
i cannot escape, man
so now i write
i write
i just write
this good luck poem
it is simple
it is fast
i pray for luck
i pray for fortune
help my
friend
help my friend
help my
friend
mi amigo
Tiene vino en su
casa.
Está en el sótano bajo tierra.
Se ríe bebiéndolo
Y lo llamo pequeño mono
Yo soy el rey mono
Él es el rey lagarto
Y ambos tenemos gallos grandes
Como gallos
Mi amigo tiene una mujer
Ella esta en una habitación
Ella se sienta solo desnuda
Arrancado
Ella usa lápiz labial
Es de color rojo brillante
El lápiz labial
Es todo lo que lleva
Su coño es blanco brillante
Me ciega
Lo miro
Ella tiene ojos como el oro español
Su lengua siempre está goteando sangre roja caliente
"Bebo la sangre de mi mujer" dice mi amigo
"Lo pongo en botellas,
Lo hago vino ".
Él me llama más
"Beba la sangre de mi mujer,
O la sangre de sus hermanas
Beber la sangre de la mujer
Porque los hombres beben
La sangre de las mujeres "
Mi amigo me dice, me dice
Hola amigo amigo
Te gusta ver a mi esposa amigo te gusta ver a mi esposa?
Dije hey chico
Mi corazon esta estallando
Ver a tu esposa en la pintura roja
Hey chico
Dile a ella
Tu amigo, yo
Yo soy el rey mono
Dile que soy un hombre de
Viejos sueños profundos de
Guerra y asesinato
Dile que tengo una espada larga
Dile que dispare rápido y libre
Dile que creo
Reinos
Y imperios
Y torres
Oye padre padre
Mis hijos lloran
Hey, hijo de puta madre, padre
Mis hijos gemen
Hey, padre de la serpiente podrida
Mis hijos gritan
Oye padre padre
Te mataré padre
Te colgaré
Oh niño niño
Blanco dulce
niño
Dulce niño negro
nosotros
tiene
asustado
mi corazón
tiene
asustado.
---------------------
my friend
has wine in his
house.
it is in the basement under ground.
he laughs drinking it
and i call him little Monkey
I am the monkey king
he is the lizard king
and we both have big cocks
like roosters
my friend has a woman
she is in a room
she sits alone naked
ripped
she wears lipstick
it is bright red
the lipstick
is all she wears
her cunt is bright white
it blinds me
i stare at it
she has eyes like spanish gold
her tongue is always dripping hot red blood
"i drink my womans blood" says my friend
"i put it in bottles,
i make it wine."
he calls me over
"drink my womans blood,
or her sisters blood
drink the blood of woman
because men drink
the blood of women"
my friend tells me, he say to me
hey amigo amigo
you like to see my wife amigo you like see my wife?
i say hey kid
my heart is exploding
to see your wife in the red paint
hey kid
tell her
your friend, me
i am the monkey king
tell her i am a man from
old deep dreams of
war and murder
tell her i have a longsword
tell her i shoot fast and free
tell her i create
kingdoms
and empires
and towers
hey father father
my children cry
hey you mother fucker , father
my children moan
hey you rotten snake father
my children scream
hey father father
i'll kill you father
i'll hang you
oh child child
sweet white
child
sweet black child
we
got
scared
my heart
got
scared.
Tiene vino en su
casa.
Está en el sótano bajo tierra.
Se ríe bebiéndolo
Y lo llamo pequeño mono
Yo soy el rey mono
Él es el rey lagarto
Y ambos tenemos gallos grandes
Como gallos
Mi amigo tiene una mujer
Ella esta en una habitación
Ella se sienta solo desnuda
Arrancado
Ella usa lápiz labial
Es de color rojo brillante
El lápiz labial
Es todo lo que lleva
Su coño es blanco brillante
Me ciega
Lo miro
Ella tiene ojos como el oro español
Su lengua siempre está goteando sangre roja caliente
"Bebo la sangre de mi mujer" dice mi amigo
"Lo pongo en botellas,
Lo hago vino ".
Él me llama más
"Beba la sangre de mi mujer,
O la sangre de sus hermanas
Beber la sangre de la mujer
Porque los hombres beben
La sangre de las mujeres "
Mi amigo me dice, me dice
Hola amigo amigo
Te gusta ver a mi esposa amigo te gusta ver a mi esposa?
Dije hey chico
Mi corazon esta estallando
Ver a tu esposa en la pintura roja
Hey chico
Dile a ella
Tu amigo, yo
Yo soy el rey mono
Dile que soy un hombre de
Viejos sueños profundos de
Guerra y asesinato
Dile que tengo una espada larga
Dile que dispare rápido y libre
Dile que creo
Reinos
Y imperios
Y torres
Oye padre padre
Mis hijos lloran
Hey, hijo de puta madre, padre
Mis hijos gemen
Hey, padre de la serpiente podrida
Mis hijos gritan
Oye padre padre
Te mataré padre
Te colgaré
Oh niño niño
Blanco dulce
niño
Dulce niño negro
nosotros
tiene
asustado
mi corazón
tiene
asustado.
---------------------
my friend
has wine in his
house.
it is in the basement under ground.
he laughs drinking it
and i call him little Monkey
I am the monkey king
he is the lizard king
and we both have big cocks
like roosters
my friend has a woman
she is in a room
she sits alone naked
ripped
she wears lipstick
it is bright red
the lipstick
is all she wears
her cunt is bright white
it blinds me
i stare at it
she has eyes like spanish gold
her tongue is always dripping hot red blood
"i drink my womans blood" says my friend
"i put it in bottles,
i make it wine."
he calls me over
"drink my womans blood,
or her sisters blood
drink the blood of woman
because men drink
the blood of women"
my friend tells me, he say to me
hey amigo amigo
you like to see my wife amigo you like see my wife?
i say hey kid
my heart is exploding
to see your wife in the red paint
hey kid
tell her
your friend, me
i am the monkey king
tell her i am a man from
old deep dreams of
war and murder
tell her i have a longsword
tell her i shoot fast and free
tell her i create
kingdoms
and empires
and towers
hey father father
my children cry
hey you mother fucker , father
my children moan
hey you rotten snake father
my children scream
hey father father
i'll kill you father
i'll hang you
oh child child
sweet white
child
sweet black child
we
got
scared
my heart
got
scared.
Padre padre poema
Sueño pequeños sueños sentados aquí solos. Sueño con ver chicas españolas.
Viajero, dime: ¿Cuándo abrirá la puerta? Sabes, quiero ver los mitos. Quiero ver el sol goteando. Quiero beber el vino español.
Estoy desnudo, y desgarrado
Mi cuerpo es blanco pálido.
Estoy gritando. ¡Para ayuda! ¡Por amor! ¡Por misericordia! ¡Para el dolor!
Mi vida es una bomba. No tengo esperanza esta noche.
Sólo tengo la muerte. Sólo tengo asesinato. Sólo tengo ... lágrimas.
Los viejos imperios están en mí. César viene a mi cabeza. Él tiene un cuchillo en mi oído.
Una montaña está goteando
El sueño está goteando
Mi mente está goteando
Mi lengua está goteando
Hey padre, padre
Hola padre padre
Te amo padre padre
Viajero, es sólo un estúpido mal poema esto. Viajero lo estoy escribiendo
Porque quiero volver a ser Gabriel García. Viajero quiero abrir mis pantalones
Quiero dejar salir mi polla
Quiero dejar caer una bomba de mi polla
Viajero soy un hombre
soy una mujer
soy un niño
Soy un hijo de puta
Hey padre padre
Salir de la selva padre padre
padre
Mi lengua está goteando
Como las montañas
¿Es esto un sueño?
O está a punto de ser
¿una pesadilla?
------------
I dream little dreams sitting here alone. I dream of seeing Spanish girls.
Traveler, tell me: When will the door open? You know, I want to see the myths. I want to see the Sun dripping. I want to drink the spanish wine.
I am naked , ripped, and nude. My body is pale white. I am screaming. For help! For love! For mercy! For pain! My life is a bomb. I have no hope tonight. I have only death. I just have murder. I just have ...tears.
The old empires are in me. Caesar comes to my head. He has a knife to my ear.
A mountain is dripping
the dream is dripping
my mind is dripping
my tongue is dripping
Hey father hey father
hey Father father
I love you father father
Traveler, it is just a stupid bad poem this. Traveler I am writing it
because I want to be Gabriel Garcia again. Traveler i want to open my pants
i want to let out my cock
i want to drop a bomb from my cock
traveler i am a man
i am a woman
i am a child
i am a mother fucker
Hey father father
get out of the jungle father father
father
my tongue is dripping
like the mountains
Is this a dream?
or is this about to be
a nightmare?
Viajero, dime: ¿Cuándo abrirá la puerta? Sabes, quiero ver los mitos. Quiero ver el sol goteando. Quiero beber el vino español.
Estoy desnudo, y desgarrado
Mi cuerpo es blanco pálido.
Estoy gritando. ¡Para ayuda! ¡Por amor! ¡Por misericordia! ¡Para el dolor!
Mi vida es una bomba. No tengo esperanza esta noche.
Sólo tengo la muerte. Sólo tengo asesinato. Sólo tengo ... lágrimas.
Los viejos imperios están en mí. César viene a mi cabeza. Él tiene un cuchillo en mi oído.
Una montaña está goteando
El sueño está goteando
Mi mente está goteando
Mi lengua está goteando
Hey padre, padre
Hola padre padre
Te amo padre padre
Viajero, es sólo un estúpido mal poema esto. Viajero lo estoy escribiendo
Porque quiero volver a ser Gabriel García. Viajero quiero abrir mis pantalones
Quiero dejar salir mi polla
Quiero dejar caer una bomba de mi polla
Viajero soy un hombre
soy una mujer
soy un niño
Soy un hijo de puta
Hey padre padre
Salir de la selva padre padre
padre
Mi lengua está goteando
Como las montañas
¿Es esto un sueño?
O está a punto de ser
¿una pesadilla?
------------
I dream little dreams sitting here alone. I dream of seeing Spanish girls.
Traveler, tell me: When will the door open? You know, I want to see the myths. I want to see the Sun dripping. I want to drink the spanish wine.
I am naked , ripped, and nude. My body is pale white. I am screaming. For help! For love! For mercy! For pain! My life is a bomb. I have no hope tonight. I have only death. I just have murder. I just have ...tears.
The old empires are in me. Caesar comes to my head. He has a knife to my ear.
A mountain is dripping
the dream is dripping
my mind is dripping
my tongue is dripping
Hey father hey father
hey Father father
I love you father father
Traveler, it is just a stupid bad poem this. Traveler I am writing it
because I want to be Gabriel Garcia again. Traveler i want to open my pants
i want to let out my cock
i want to drop a bomb from my cock
traveler i am a man
i am a woman
i am a child
i am a mother fucker
Hey father father
get out of the jungle father father
father
my tongue is dripping
like the mountains
Is this a dream?
or is this about to be
a nightmare?
Spanish poem
estoy escribiendo
En español antiguo
Porque aquí en esta ciudad
yo me estoy muriendo,
Y estoy solo
Necesito amigos que
Están poniendo bajo el sol.
Necesito amigos que puedan ver
el océano.
El cálido océano.
Sabes como frio
El océano es
Fuera de mi puerta
Sabes como frio
¿Mi inglés es?
¿Sabes cómo frío norteamérica
¿es?
Quién eres tú
pequeño
Soñador español ??
Quieres amarme
Como yo quiero
¿te amo?
Esta noche cuando duermo espero
Voy a soñar en español
quiero
Vive en español
y
Pensar en español
Y escribe en español
Y tienen pesadillas, por qué no
en español
Hey pequeño soñador
Hey pequeño soñador
Déjame entrar
Déjame entrar
Sé que mi español es malo
pero
yo soy
honesto.
soy bueno.
yo soy
REAL.
En español antiguo
Porque aquí en esta ciudad
yo me estoy muriendo,
Y estoy solo
Necesito amigos que
Están poniendo bajo el sol.
Necesito amigos que puedan ver
el océano.
El cálido océano.
Sabes como frio
El océano es
Fuera de mi puerta
Sabes como frio
¿Mi inglés es?
¿Sabes cómo frío norteamérica
¿es?
Quién eres tú
pequeño
Soñador español ??
Quieres amarme
Como yo quiero
¿te amo?
Esta noche cuando duermo espero
Voy a soñar en español
quiero
Vive en español
y
Pensar en español
Y escribe en español
Y tienen pesadillas, por qué no
en español
Hey pequeño soñador
Hey pequeño soñador
Déjame entrar
Déjame entrar
Sé que mi español es malo
pero
yo soy
honesto.
soy bueno.
yo soy
REAL.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Dryness and Developing Country Values
The Dryness of US Culture, and how once you see it, you can't unsee it
The arguments made about American culture in this time of Trump often tend to almost obsessively revolve around ruralism versus urbanism and liberalism versus conservatism. Much of the time the argument that the conservatives make tends to revolve around the idea that liberals are "polluting spiritual culture" and - what?- too arrogant and overly educated and snobby et cetera. Then of course there's also the additional and rather new thing that the modern conservatives are angry about , which is the LGBT community and the rising feminism movement, which to me seems to be growing by the day, and thus of course also more hated by the day, by conservative factions.
Now , the one thing I find very intriguing about all of tis is the way that , even throughout all of this arguing-- about what so many of us feel are such absolutely complex topics-- the idea that there is perhaps something much more simple below the surface of all these arguments never really seems to occur to many of us. We are utterly convinced , after all, that this is an unbelievably complex country and a complex time period, so on so forth. We thus tend - or so I feel anyways-- to shy away from simple and straight forward explanations about things and the reason they are the way they are. And all of this of course brings me to the point I made in the title, about what I believe is the "dryness" of the traditional US culture. What do I mean by it?
It's simple really: the traditional US culture that the conservatives here are , deep down, trying to preserve, and now getting very angry to see passing away, is not - I am forever saying - something that has just begun in this most recent election. It's something that has, in fact, been going on for years, it predates feminism, it predates the LGBT argument, it predates all of these modern things you think are so vital to the conservative and liberal argument , and what it really spirals back to , in my opinion, is that one word over and over again: Dryness. Dryness. Dryness.
The traditional Americans like to live a "dry" lifestyle and they like to live it more than, basically, the entire rest of the white world at this point. What's a dry lifestyle of course some might ask? That's an easy answer: it's the lifestyle that is lived frugally, rather to the bone or the marrow, one that is not filled with too many things, one that does not revolve consistently around "pleasure" but rather grit and lack and of course strength. Its basically "Spartan" by design, and the idea is that the absolute best life is the one that is lived with as little as possible. No frills. No smoothness. No comfort. Just teeth to the grindstone. The conservative adoration of the men in uniform, whom Trump has, if you listened, consistently said "they all love me, I don't know why, but people in uniform, they all love me" ..goes straight back to this concept. Uniforms are dry, plain, bland, rigorous, and reserved, just like the citizens who wear them. Cops, soldiers, judges and politicians , so on and so forth, these are all generally rather colorless individuals (at least while doing their duties) who all have at least a few "Spartan details" about them. Especially in the eyes of the youths. Even myself as a writer and a diligent reader, the conservative American idea has, I must admit, actually helped me, at certain times, because the country is rather quiet, so what else are you going to do really besides read?
And this conservative idea of dryness and wanting to remain plain and void of any flares or frills, and instead forever focused solely on strength and trying to fight pleasures, is, at the end of the day, the *real* origin of the entire conservative argument, whether they're able to see it or not, or even whether they themselves are actually living it in reality or not. All the traditional conservative heroes display the Spartan lifestyle in one way or another. John Wayne for example is essentially the shining star of a modern style Spartan. The entire idea surrounding him is that nothing ought to ever get too complicated, and you can always find a simple way to solve anything and everything. Camping and fishing is a rather popular pastime in the states, in my opinion, especially in conservative circles, you might notice, for this exact reason, and most Americans, even many who grew up in cities, often have Spartan details about them that I find they themselves don't even realize. It's literally been built straight into the Us Culture. It's a very important part of the countrys history...
A lot of people might not believe me, of course, about what I am saying, because many people, even Americans themselves, have been brought up with this very stereotypical idea that the American culture is all about materialism or plastic surgery, et cetera. They'll think I'm crazy, perhaps, trying to say that the US culture is very much, by my estimate, still quite a dry one , and not nearly as materialistic as many would make it sound, even now in 2017.
The truth however is that, despite the stereotype about materialism, the dryness of the US culture reveals itself in a number of ways. Circumcision, for starters, which is a practice that literally cuts the wet part of the penis off, and is not performed in literally any other white nation aside from America, is the greatest example, and the one that I use most often to reveal the inherent and literal "dryness" of this culture, but there are also other, less serious and less shocking areas. The lack of appreciation for wine , for instance . The complete inability that most Americans have when it comes to really connecting with not just cities in their own country but literally any culture outside of this one. The strange prohibitive history with alcohol. The way you'll find that most typical American men,unless they're trying to be different, tend to actually avoid wearing jewelry and have a disdain for it (not found in other cultures). The fact that this is one of the only developed countries still criminalizing prostitutes. The obsession with keeping any and all drugs that are thought of as "recreational outlawed . The obsession with the weight lifting culture and the physical fitness culture and the weapon culture as actual "passions". The lack of spices in the general American diet. These are all enormous signs of the dry obsession we have here, as a culture. They are completely undeniable signs. Even if you participate and love those various ideas, the fact still remains that those are dry ideas. Trying to deny that they are dry interests is like trying to say that a man who doesn't drink isn't sober. There is no way around it: if you are a conservative American, you are inherently aligned with what is, for many people, an intolerably dry culture. It is not just an old time traditional culture your aligned with, nor just a religious one, it's also a dry one.It's perhaps easier to see if you are yourself a man, (I don't know) because the current conservative American idea of who is or who is not a "real man" is perhaps one of the most rigid currently at work in the entirety of the developed world. This is why the Americans, of course, seem to be having a particularly hard time getting their men to go to college, whereas the girls are currently shining examples of scholars in many fields. There is a disproportion here, statistically speaking, between educated women and then educated men, and this inherent dryness of the US culture in particular is the exact reason why. An American conservative man even looks at books as being almost too "wet" for him. There is a ticket of shame that the conservative American man , or even the conservative sympathizer, carries in his pocket , even just for being scholarly. Education is almost thought of in the States as a rather feminine realm....
Conservative Americans of course will explain to us that all of these things being the way they are ought to remain that way, however, and they'll tell you that a culture being in this way is the best way, because, well, how else can a society really function, If these ideas about dryness and prohibiting 'bad things' and keeping folks strong and full of grit, and not flair, aren't its main ingredients? And the truth is that their argument, even as a liberal, I'll admit, makes a whole lot of sense, and in many ways is completely and absolutely the truth. A dry country where no fun or water or "wetness" flows is oftentimes a very highly productive culture. They get things done. Conservatives are very right about that. The issue , however, is that the things that a dry culture tends to get done are...well...(and this is the biggest plot point) just the early things. Which means to say that a dry culture is often the ideal culture when a country is just beginning and it's in desperate need of a foundation, but once that foundation has been built, all the attempts to try and force the culture to remain dry - as it was in its beginning chapters- are not just futile, but also very dangerous. This is essentially because putting a country together in its early stages is just like putting together a house: when you're first putting the house together, you're generally in a rush to get it done, usually you're rather desperate, and there's no time for jerking around whilst you're In the process. Everyone in the grojp needs to be as focused as possible on getting that house built and up and running, so you can make sure you'll survive to the next day. Naturally at this point in the project, you're going to have a serious disdain for those people who can't lift the wood and who keep goofing off. There's no time for playing here . No time for looking up at the stars and asking silly philosophical questions. No time to Let your muscles get weak. The house must be built.
Once the house is built, however, what happens next? I'm sure you already know: You start bringing the good stuff in. You run the water, the bath gets wet. Maybe you build a wine cellar. You start a library. You sleep on a feather bed instead of on the hard ground. You finally get a chance to occasionally relax. You have successfully constructed the house. Now you just have to make sure it keeps standing , which is also an important game ---but nothing at all like the initial game of getting it built.
The modern America is just like this theoretical house that has now been built, you see, and what the liberals essentially are, are the people who are now trying to bring the goodies in and decorate the house in a beautiful "wet" way. They're trying to bring in a nice bathtub, a couple paintings, some wine, a nicer bed, some flowers and some spices and fancier recipes to throw on the dinner table. They're trying to fill up the library with books.
The conservatives do not like them of course, and find them to be preposterous , because the American conservatives are still running with that old idea of what is and was pretty much a developing country in their heads. That's the heart of the whole American argument In fact : the conservatives have developing country values. They're sitting here right now long after the American house has been built, and they're still obsessively trying to apply the rules that everyone had to abide by back in the early foundational period, when all we had were just a few planks of wood on the ground, instead of a fully completed house.
Many people, myself included, often look off at other white countries in pure bewilderment , unable to comprehend how on earth they don't have these same hardcore conservatives that we have here. Somehow, I have often noticed, it goes entirely over most people's heads that those European countries are basically infinitely older than our own. This is not just a small detail to be disregarded . It's enormous. And it's the entire reason that our American conservatives act the way they do, it's the only reason. Our country was essentially just built last night, and so we have now gotten stuck, for the time being, with this very odd set of conservatives who are absolutely convinced that what it means to be conservative and traditional is to have these dry values , which revolve around, as I said, getting the house built, rather than what to do once it's done and already built.
Many people of course are aware of the fact that our conservatives are stuck in the past, it's often said, and this won't come as news to people. Here's the catch though: Our conservatives are not just stuck in any random "past". They're stuck in a very specific, wholly American, "developing country" past. The same cannot at all be said for literally any other west European country, all of which got past this stage a thousand years ago. When someone in england looks to their recent 1800s and 1700s "past" , they still see something that was fully developed, fully urbanized, fully organized, fully built (by the standards of the time) and they don't see these 'developing country' values. They don't see dust and tumbleweeds blowing by, or Indians running around in teepees et cetera. The English house has been built for a millennium. London was once Londinium, and it began, literally, in the ancient world.
When we look in America however, to our "recent past" we see , in fact, the Wild West.We see an undeveloped set of values, and these values, though the 1800s seem oh so "far away" to us, are still kind of close to us, because that is the only past that many of us know or understand and have to look back to, and ironically Hollywood (now the big enemy of the conservative) is largely responsible for a lot of this misinterpretation of what the 'past' is , thanks to how often they endlessly focused on the Wild West developmental period, rather than the original colonies in the northeast, which though even our original colonies aren't as old as anything in England, they're still older than the mid-west and southeast cities et cetera. The argument between liberal and conservative values is very much an argument betweena developed country and an undeveloped country. Conservatives in the USA are looking backwards and seeing this traditional culture of dryness and foundation laying, and they don't understand that the time for that adherence to dryness and plainness and foundation building is long since past, since this country has now evolved, and been built, and is now more than ready, as they should be beginning to see, and very eager - if not downright desperate -- to begin its next stages of further development...
This makes absolutely all the difference. And it's the entire reason and, I promise you, the only reason, why our conservatives act the way they do.
That's pretty much the end of it ....
The arguments made about American culture in this time of Trump often tend to almost obsessively revolve around ruralism versus urbanism and liberalism versus conservatism. Much of the time the argument that the conservatives make tends to revolve around the idea that liberals are "polluting spiritual culture" and - what?- too arrogant and overly educated and snobby et cetera. Then of course there's also the additional and rather new thing that the modern conservatives are angry about , which is the LGBT community and the rising feminism movement, which to me seems to be growing by the day, and thus of course also more hated by the day, by conservative factions.
Now , the one thing I find very intriguing about all of tis is the way that , even throughout all of this arguing-- about what so many of us feel are such absolutely complex topics-- the idea that there is perhaps something much more simple below the surface of all these arguments never really seems to occur to many of us. We are utterly convinced , after all, that this is an unbelievably complex country and a complex time period, so on so forth. We thus tend - or so I feel anyways-- to shy away from simple and straight forward explanations about things and the reason they are the way they are. And all of this of course brings me to the point I made in the title, about what I believe is the "dryness" of the traditional US culture. What do I mean by it?
It's simple really: the traditional US culture that the conservatives here are , deep down, trying to preserve, and now getting very angry to see passing away, is not - I am forever saying - something that has just begun in this most recent election. It's something that has, in fact, been going on for years, it predates feminism, it predates the LGBT argument, it predates all of these modern things you think are so vital to the conservative and liberal argument , and what it really spirals back to , in my opinion, is that one word over and over again: Dryness. Dryness. Dryness.
The traditional Americans like to live a "dry" lifestyle and they like to live it more than, basically, the entire rest of the white world at this point. What's a dry lifestyle of course some might ask? That's an easy answer: it's the lifestyle that is lived frugally, rather to the bone or the marrow, one that is not filled with too many things, one that does not revolve consistently around "pleasure" but rather grit and lack and of course strength. Its basically "Spartan" by design, and the idea is that the absolute best life is the one that is lived with as little as possible. No frills. No smoothness. No comfort. Just teeth to the grindstone. The conservative adoration of the men in uniform, whom Trump has, if you listened, consistently said "they all love me, I don't know why, but people in uniform, they all love me" ..goes straight back to this concept. Uniforms are dry, plain, bland, rigorous, and reserved, just like the citizens who wear them. Cops, soldiers, judges and politicians , so on and so forth, these are all generally rather colorless individuals (at least while doing their duties) who all have at least a few "Spartan details" about them. Especially in the eyes of the youths. Even myself as a writer and a diligent reader, the conservative American idea has, I must admit, actually helped me, at certain times, because the country is rather quiet, so what else are you going to do really besides read?
And this conservative idea of dryness and wanting to remain plain and void of any flares or frills, and instead forever focused solely on strength and trying to fight pleasures, is, at the end of the day, the *real* origin of the entire conservative argument, whether they're able to see it or not, or even whether they themselves are actually living it in reality or not. All the traditional conservative heroes display the Spartan lifestyle in one way or another. John Wayne for example is essentially the shining star of a modern style Spartan. The entire idea surrounding him is that nothing ought to ever get too complicated, and you can always find a simple way to solve anything and everything. Camping and fishing is a rather popular pastime in the states, in my opinion, especially in conservative circles, you might notice, for this exact reason, and most Americans, even many who grew up in cities, often have Spartan details about them that I find they themselves don't even realize. It's literally been built straight into the Us Culture. It's a very important part of the countrys history...
A lot of people might not believe me, of course, about what I am saying, because many people, even Americans themselves, have been brought up with this very stereotypical idea that the American culture is all about materialism or plastic surgery, et cetera. They'll think I'm crazy, perhaps, trying to say that the US culture is very much, by my estimate, still quite a dry one , and not nearly as materialistic as many would make it sound, even now in 2017.
The truth however is that, despite the stereotype about materialism, the dryness of the US culture reveals itself in a number of ways. Circumcision, for starters, which is a practice that literally cuts the wet part of the penis off, and is not performed in literally any other white nation aside from America, is the greatest example, and the one that I use most often to reveal the inherent and literal "dryness" of this culture, but there are also other, less serious and less shocking areas. The lack of appreciation for wine , for instance . The complete inability that most Americans have when it comes to really connecting with not just cities in their own country but literally any culture outside of this one. The strange prohibitive history with alcohol. The way you'll find that most typical American men,unless they're trying to be different, tend to actually avoid wearing jewelry and have a disdain for it (not found in other cultures). The fact that this is one of the only developed countries still criminalizing prostitutes. The obsession with keeping any and all drugs that are thought of as "recreational outlawed . The obsession with the weight lifting culture and the physical fitness culture and the weapon culture as actual "passions". The lack of spices in the general American diet. These are all enormous signs of the dry obsession we have here, as a culture. They are completely undeniable signs. Even if you participate and love those various ideas, the fact still remains that those are dry ideas. Trying to deny that they are dry interests is like trying to say that a man who doesn't drink isn't sober. There is no way around it: if you are a conservative American, you are inherently aligned with what is, for many people, an intolerably dry culture. It is not just an old time traditional culture your aligned with, nor just a religious one, it's also a dry one.It's perhaps easier to see if you are yourself a man, (I don't know) because the current conservative American idea of who is or who is not a "real man" is perhaps one of the most rigid currently at work in the entirety of the developed world. This is why the Americans, of course, seem to be having a particularly hard time getting their men to go to college, whereas the girls are currently shining examples of scholars in many fields. There is a disproportion here, statistically speaking, between educated women and then educated men, and this inherent dryness of the US culture in particular is the exact reason why. An American conservative man even looks at books as being almost too "wet" for him. There is a ticket of shame that the conservative American man , or even the conservative sympathizer, carries in his pocket , even just for being scholarly. Education is almost thought of in the States as a rather feminine realm....
Conservative Americans of course will explain to us that all of these things being the way they are ought to remain that way, however, and they'll tell you that a culture being in this way is the best way, because, well, how else can a society really function, If these ideas about dryness and prohibiting 'bad things' and keeping folks strong and full of grit, and not flair, aren't its main ingredients? And the truth is that their argument, even as a liberal, I'll admit, makes a whole lot of sense, and in many ways is completely and absolutely the truth. A dry country where no fun or water or "wetness" flows is oftentimes a very highly productive culture. They get things done. Conservatives are very right about that. The issue , however, is that the things that a dry culture tends to get done are...well...(and this is the biggest plot point) just the early things. Which means to say that a dry culture is often the ideal culture when a country is just beginning and it's in desperate need of a foundation, but once that foundation has been built, all the attempts to try and force the culture to remain dry - as it was in its beginning chapters- are not just futile, but also very dangerous. This is essentially because putting a country together in its early stages is just like putting together a house: when you're first putting the house together, you're generally in a rush to get it done, usually you're rather desperate, and there's no time for jerking around whilst you're In the process. Everyone in the grojp needs to be as focused as possible on getting that house built and up and running, so you can make sure you'll survive to the next day. Naturally at this point in the project, you're going to have a serious disdain for those people who can't lift the wood and who keep goofing off. There's no time for playing here . No time for looking up at the stars and asking silly philosophical questions. No time to Let your muscles get weak. The house must be built.
Once the house is built, however, what happens next? I'm sure you already know: You start bringing the good stuff in. You run the water, the bath gets wet. Maybe you build a wine cellar. You start a library. You sleep on a feather bed instead of on the hard ground. You finally get a chance to occasionally relax. You have successfully constructed the house. Now you just have to make sure it keeps standing , which is also an important game ---but nothing at all like the initial game of getting it built.
The modern America is just like this theoretical house that has now been built, you see, and what the liberals essentially are, are the people who are now trying to bring the goodies in and decorate the house in a beautiful "wet" way. They're trying to bring in a nice bathtub, a couple paintings, some wine, a nicer bed, some flowers and some spices and fancier recipes to throw on the dinner table. They're trying to fill up the library with books.
The conservatives do not like them of course, and find them to be preposterous , because the American conservatives are still running with that old idea of what is and was pretty much a developing country in their heads. That's the heart of the whole American argument In fact : the conservatives have developing country values. They're sitting here right now long after the American house has been built, and they're still obsessively trying to apply the rules that everyone had to abide by back in the early foundational period, when all we had were just a few planks of wood on the ground, instead of a fully completed house.
Many people, myself included, often look off at other white countries in pure bewilderment , unable to comprehend how on earth they don't have these same hardcore conservatives that we have here. Somehow, I have often noticed, it goes entirely over most people's heads that those European countries are basically infinitely older than our own. This is not just a small detail to be disregarded . It's enormous. And it's the entire reason that our American conservatives act the way they do, it's the only reason. Our country was essentially just built last night, and so we have now gotten stuck, for the time being, with this very odd set of conservatives who are absolutely convinced that what it means to be conservative and traditional is to have these dry values , which revolve around, as I said, getting the house built, rather than what to do once it's done and already built.
Many people of course are aware of the fact that our conservatives are stuck in the past, it's often said, and this won't come as news to people. Here's the catch though: Our conservatives are not just stuck in any random "past". They're stuck in a very specific, wholly American, "developing country" past. The same cannot at all be said for literally any other west European country, all of which got past this stage a thousand years ago. When someone in england looks to their recent 1800s and 1700s "past" , they still see something that was fully developed, fully urbanized, fully organized, fully built (by the standards of the time) and they don't see these 'developing country' values. They don't see dust and tumbleweeds blowing by, or Indians running around in teepees et cetera. The English house has been built for a millennium. London was once Londinium, and it began, literally, in the ancient world.
When we look in America however, to our "recent past" we see , in fact, the Wild West.We see an undeveloped set of values, and these values, though the 1800s seem oh so "far away" to us, are still kind of close to us, because that is the only past that many of us know or understand and have to look back to, and ironically Hollywood (now the big enemy of the conservative) is largely responsible for a lot of this misinterpretation of what the 'past' is , thanks to how often they endlessly focused on the Wild West developmental period, rather than the original colonies in the northeast, which though even our original colonies aren't as old as anything in England, they're still older than the mid-west and southeast cities et cetera. The argument between liberal and conservative values is very much an argument betweena developed country and an undeveloped country. Conservatives in the USA are looking backwards and seeing this traditional culture of dryness and foundation laying, and they don't understand that the time for that adherence to dryness and plainness and foundation building is long since past, since this country has now evolved, and been built, and is now more than ready, as they should be beginning to see, and very eager - if not downright desperate -- to begin its next stages of further development...
This makes absolutely all the difference. And it's the entire reason and, I promise you, the only reason, why our conservatives act the way they do.
That's pretty much the end of it ....
Diane Lane movie Under the Tuscan Sun
THE MOVIE SET IN ITALIA
I discovered something kind of odd about ten minutes ago that I felt like writing about, even though I suppose for many people it will mean little to nothing. It has to do with the Diane Lane movie (not sure which year it is from) called Under the Tuscan Sun.
As Is clear to see from the title, the movie was set in Italy. The film came across my mind this afternoon because , years ago , before I had acrually managed to see Italy myself and it was all still very "foreign" to me, this particular film was , believe it or not, actually one of the only places where my young self could get a glimpse at the modern -- and peaceful-- Italian world. For this reason I have kind of always cherished it in my own way, remembered it fondly and From time to distant time I'll look up a scene and watch it.
Now, many filmgoers might not often think about it; but the truth is that, when one starts searching for films by location and not by plot , one will often find that they come up rather empty handed with a lot of their searches. Years ago, when I had just started researching other countries here from America (where of course the majority of films are made) I discoveree this issue VERY quickly. The truth is that, back then, I watched films far more often than I do now (I hardly watch them anymore ) and one of the big reasons I watched so many... was because they would give me glimpses into not just other worlds (like science fiction), not just other time periods, but also other countries.For a time my big obsession with film actually revolved around this exact detail: I soaked up as many as I could in an attempt to “experience” as many countries as I could.
It was the very famous star Brad Pitt in fact who once said, I believe, that when he had lived in Kentucky growing up, "films were like portals of escape for me." I always felt the same way, and so I tried to utilize them in this manner. I purposely tried to seek out films that had been set far away from my home, and oftentimes when setting down to watch them, I wouldn't even take the plot -- or the characters -- into consideration. I would just decide I needed to see Berlin, or Texas, or Quebec, and then I would use Google to help me find a list of films in said location...
Such was the case with this Diane Lane film Under the Tuscan Sun. The only criteria I needed to turn it on was the fact that it had the word Tuscan in the title ; everything else the film had to do with was of no relevance to me whatsoever. If you saw me on the street, you probably wouldn't think I would like this film as much as I do.
The reason I'm mentioning all of this now is because, having just now gone back and familiarized myself with the plot of the film all over again (which I had largely forgotten) I realized a particular detail that jumped out to me very quickly: The film is incredibly gay. And I don't mean happy, I mean gay. As in, I'm now looking back at this film and realizing that most American men like myself probably would refuse to watch it , just because of, first, what the plot is, and second, the entire beginning of the film. The whole first part of the film is set in some sort of ultra queer universe. Diane lanes two best friends are married lesbians . Shes from San Francisco, largely considered the capital of the modern queer movement. Her husband has just left her (or she him?) and now we are expected , as the audience, to grieve with her, a woman who never stops crying. And when she goes to Italy Initially - before later deciding to permanently relocate there - she's on something called a "gay away tour" , which means she's on a tourist ride through the upper regions of the country with a bunch of gay American, presumably Democratic, and liberal men. Most likely men from San Francisco or Manhattan ET cetera. Places where weird gays who don’t go to the Church of Jesus live, basically. Hm...
Looking back at it , I have no idea whatsoever how this series of details -- details that many people would consider “enormous” -- did not stand out to me in terms of my memory. I literally had no recollection whatsoever of any of the beginning scenes that were so blatantly "liberal" or queer. Indeed, I had forgotten the lesbian couple, the San Francisco beginning, and also the gay away tour. I had even more or less forgotten how prominent the premise of divorce and marital failure was in the initial scenes.
All I remembered about the film, in that little memory bubble where it was stored away, was that it had been a beautiful and even "breathtaking" look st Italy for me at the time. It had helped me , as I mentioned before, to get a modern vision of the country that, quite frankly , wasn't available anywhere else. After all, there are no English American TV shows that I have heard of set in Italy, and looking at a picture certainly isn't the same as a film ..and when it comes to books , well, as powerful as books are, they don't show you anything . Old time scribblers like DH Lawrence have written good prose about Italy - but for me the whole relationship I have with Italy tends to be deeply visual rather than "thoughtful". I like thinking about the scenery , the castles, the villas, the rivers. I read books about Italy now, but this is going back a bits. I needed something visual. I wanted to feel like I was on a trip.
So obviously Hollywood faire like Under the Tuscan Sun became a rather necessary accompaniment to my young interest and curiosity in Italy. I cannot stress enough : At the time I went looking, there weren't many other films available to watch -- modern ones -- that had been set there during a time of peace. Even now if you run a Google search for films set in Italy , you'll see this one with Diane Lane comes up first thing. It's the most popular. Again, It's because it's the most accessible one. All the other films set in this country are either too old or not American and thus they have no familiar cast et cetera. They're films that would take a bit of effort to watch and would be kind of strange for modern American sensibilities ...
Ok. I suppose now you're wondering what the pint of commenting on all this was? Well there are a few reasons -- and I think the biggest reason is that i actually now find all of this to be sort of offensive, certainly limiting --, and I actually think it says a great deal about the pettiness of the American culture at large, that the only film this country thought to create, set in a culture as old and strong as the Italian one , is one that is , it's clear to see, "only for women and queers". Now I want to make it very clear that I don't have any issue with that at first glance -- may the good queers of San Francisdo and elsewhere make millions of films , by God --- but what I do have a definite issue with is the fact that this is pretty much the ONLY major accessible film dealing with Italy.
I find it maddening, insulting , and very stupid. And I certainly find that it says a great deal about my fellow American men, because basically what this film sort of says in a way is that, you know what, Italy isn't a place where the average, straight all American guy would feel comfortable. If anything, the film actually presents Italy as a threat to the typical US guy. After all, Diane Lane "escapes" there like a fugitive on the run , after whatever happened with her husband . Instead of returning to her husband the woman thinks to find something new! In a foreign capital! The gall on this broad eh?
To make matters even worse, she then meets , of course, an incredibly suave and attractive Italiano man , who becomes her knight in shining armor. So basically we have a story about a woman who runs to another country and then runs into the supportive arms of a foreigner. Woah. What on earth just happened? Ask yourself patriot: Is this movie ...for traitors? Is that what it's implying? Is this movie implying that gays and lesbians from San Francisco, and women who agree to divorce, are ultimately traitors at heart??? Traitors who ought to flee Gods Country?
In a way, I think it is sort of subtly implying all of these things to a certain, more conservative segment of the population, and looking back now I'm shockingly realizing that this type of portrayal is the exact reason why this film was the only film available , that was set in Italy, when I went looking. There are no male equivalent story of this film because guess what? According to Hollywood script writers, the only reason a good old American man has to be in Italy-- or anywhere foreign-- is for war. Or , of course, maybe if he is running on some international plot of insane intrigue. You will not find a movie about an American man in this country or any other country where he is having a grand old time. You will not find it because it is antithetical to the American mans image of himself. He travels for war or he doesn't travel at all.
Other than that , a good American tough guy, what the he'll is he doing somewhere else? What other reason could someone who wasn't a traitor possibly have? What? He is Getting girls? He has those at America and if they don't like him it's a sign, one imagines, of his failing . Taking a vacation? He has vacation spots in America to go to and if he doesn't like them he is a bad person with bad taste. Also: American men don't take vacations anyways . And if they do take vacations, then it means they're doing something manly , like hunting buck in Montana whilst living in a log cabin, or maybe going to climb Mount Everest ...or , of course , maybe going to a casino or some such place. Other than that what could a real fella possibly be doing??
Indeed it's very interesting to look back at this Diane Lane movie and see all the politics of conservatism versus liberalism as it concerns this country , suddenly popping out at me . It's very sad really, to think that this culture is so frightfully limited , they can't even comfortable make a movie -- a peaceful movie --- set in another country ....
Incomplete Thoughts on Archiving in the age of YouTube
In recent years, as I have tried to write more and more, I have developed a rather peculiar obsession with the archival process of both the past and the modern day. These are just some scattered and then incomplete thoughts on it I was writing up the other morning.....
I often waste precious writing time these days writing up YouTube comments. At first it was funny. Now it is beginning to get annoying, however, because it's like I somehow got addicted to it and...well, what is the sense of writing a YouTube comment really - especially the sort that I write, which are oftentimes not just one or two lines, like most people, but 5-6 paragraphs filled with my feelings, my thoughts, and my take on whatever the specific video is.
I guess most people would just say, what, stop writing them if you don't want to ,right, but that's the catch, really: YouTube videos and especially the comments underneath them, since it's like a conversation, often seem to naturally inspire me to think up very great responses , as though I'm engaged in a real conversation with someone, and it's usually only *after* I'm done writing my long comment that I'll realize I was doing all that inspired writing in the dumb YouTube box, instead of Microsoft Word (which is where I prefer to write, because I feel like a professional!).
Basically YouTube inspires writing for me in the same way that I feel a writer in the past would have been inspired by a letter being sent to his door and... when you think of it like that, I do think that it suddenly starts to feel as though there's something sad about the manner in which the YouTube Comments or, even, for that matter, message board conversations, are archived, when it comes to this generation.
How come?? It's basically because, if you've ever read anything about the writers of the past, you'll know that all their correspondences were rather meticulously archived oftentimes and not just archived but even published and widely studied -- occasionally just as much as their books. William Burroughs for instance, for all the traveling he did and even though he did not have a fixed address for almost his entire life, was actually said to keep very serious track of basically all the letters he wrote to his friends. Which means to say that William would have two copies of every letter he wrote, one to be sent, the other to be archived somewhere and saved.Back then they called it 'a carbon copy'.
What I find so incredible about this is that, when you swing open the books of letters that have been compiled of Burroughs, you come to see pretty quickly (and shockingly for me) that many of these letters are exceedingly short, not even beyond 3 or 4 paragraphs sometimes. Essentially just a page. And of course it's often the same with a number of other authors, their books of letters are often also filled with these very, very short correspondences, sometimes about the most random subjects imaginable; but i think I found it so intriguing with William because here we have someone who was always moving, never in one place (which is very much liek an Internet surfer, I always say) and yet he also made sure to keep track of those letters, no matter how short they were ...which at this point are, in my opinion, completely invaluable to studying and understanding him as an author. Looking at letters could not be any more different than looking at books....
In todays age though, it's clear to see that this idea has basically all but faded out of view for most of us. We value longer pieces of writing still, in terms of archiving, but when it comes to something short , like a 3 paragraph thing you type quickly in the morning to your pal on text, this is not at all thought of as something to archive. Not at all. This is now considered throw away stuff. People log onto the New York Times website and write up an angry 5 paragraph response (and oftentimes a very interesting one) in regards to the morning news...and then the next day -bloop--they forget it forever. No way to re-trace it. Just gone. Someone else will find it , but not you. For you it's gone. You forget the article you left it under, you forget the newspaper maybe...so on and so forth.
When it comes to myself for instance, I always say: I've been browsing the Internet since I was a 10 year old kid in 1999. I have written dozens of journal entries upon it. I have submitted photos upon it. I have joined poetry contests upon it. Been a member of various message boards upon it. Started numerous websites that then collapsed upon it. Had thousands and thousands (so it would seem) of incredibly long winded chat conversations on it, in a multitude of langauges. And yet ... when I look back at all my internet travels, guess what? There is almost nothing there in a sense, unless you start talking about Facebook or my own YouTube channels. Beyond those two sites (and in fact I have a big YouTube horror story of mass video deletion occurring once) I essentially have no way anymore to track down everything I was doing on the internet throughout my middle school, teenage, college, and even early 20 something years. Almost all of it has been lost entirely. It's as though I never existed, for years and years, as though I was just sitting on here taking things in and never adding anything of my own --- even though that was not at all the case....
I do not remember the usernames I used and typed under on many a message board. I don't remember the passwords for old e-mail accounts. My old MySpace account, or LiveJournal account, or maybe ...I dunno... some WordPress or Angelfire account of old, which all had numerous diary entries and photos and short stories of my teenage years, it's all lost completely, taken down at some point by the hosts of the Site when I wasn't looking, after forgetting abouut it for years, or just, as I said, the username and damn password lost to time ... and, since I never thought to store any of the files on *my own computer* (and then too since I've switched dsktops and laptops numerous times) there's nothing I can do about it. The only copy of everything that existed was in the Cloud, and because it just always seems like everything in the Cloud is there 'forever', it never occurred to me to make copies of it. Not a single time more or less. Basically the only stuff I still have from back then is , surprise surprise, the stuff that I just so happened to print out.
I suppose I would feel absolutely horrific about all of this, except for the fact that I realize this has happened to many many people and not just me, which is why in my opinion I think it's a sign of the times really, and definitely a testament to the rather bizarre nature of the Digital age. What we basically seem to have here is an age where , as a result of being able to store so many things so easily on such tiny little devices, we have thus obviously started to become rather confused, and we have a hard time keeping track of things, especially those of us, I think, who grew up with the Internet when we were just getting started , because we never really had a chance to understand how people used to store documents and photos beforehand, in the physical world. I think everyone has had the experience of going to a friends house, sitting down at the computer or the laptop, popping the screensaver off and being greeted by a desktop screen that is so filled with icons and documents you don't even know what is going on. In a way, this absurdly disorganized screen that most of us work with is a testament to just how hard it can be to keep track of things, even now in this so-called "Revolutionary" age of memory. We are literally drowning under the Internet and its seriously insane clutter. It's like a massive city and there are so many buildings in it that you do not remember which ones you have gone into, even so much as a day later, let alone 10 years or 15 years.
The plain truth as far as I am concerned is that, though there is clearly far more storage space (infinite), it is actually a bit more difficult to store things now, than it used to be, in some sense, nd a big part of this is because its not at all encouraged as a result of the fact that the Internet appears to be doing a hell of a good job storing everything for you, and keeping track of it, even when it really isn't. The truth of the Internet and its storage capabilities is that it's all just an illusion, and leaving your stuff somewhere (like, say, uploading your artwork to some random site ) is often like leaving your bags down in some random library room: You will more likely than not lose them, because you will probably forget the username and password, eventually, and then you'll realize...whoops! It's too late.
It's the same with every site, I'm telling you: You upload a bunch of long winded responses you type, for example, to a site like Reddit, and it seems like Reddit is storing it all for you, and though it is indeed doing that, the fact is that it isn't really storing it, in a way, for you *personally*. It is storing it instead for Reddit, and the other random people on Reddit, and for Google. It does not care about you. It does not care, really, to make something like a compilation of you and everything you have said, so that someone like myself can go back and look through your various comments and have them all in a sort of order just like I had the letters of William Burroughs. It isn't really too interested in making a sort of narrative out of your Internet travels. Only *you* can really be interested in doing that (just like only William himself was interested in making sure his letters were archived, not the Post offices across the world) but, again, the thing is that, right now, this idea of archiving is just thought of as kind of loony. It doesn't occur to us to do it or to take an interest in it because we are all blinded by the illusion. We really think the Internet is storing it all for us, automatically. There is even a ton of paranoia in regards to this idea. Which in my opinion is overblown...because the truth is that re-tracing even your own Internet footsteps, let alone someone elses, is next to impossible oftentimes (especially if you are hopping from computer to computer, I think).
Don't believe me maybe? Well, if you are a message board user or a Redditor or a person who likes commenting somewhere and you occasionally type 2 or 3 paragraphs even, then just copy and paste whatever you write next time, and then plug it into Notepad on your computer, or Word, and see how odd and lonely it suddenly looks, when it is stripped away from the workings of the website. Take someones Facebook status, for example, or even one of those "Twitter thunderstorms" people go on, where they type 10 different tweets to get out a paragraph, and watch how odd and utterly removed the block of text looks, in just some word processor. Maybe its jsut me; but every time I do this, I always think it looks so damn different that it's almost surreal...as though it doesn't belong anywhere else except for the website...and this to me just goes to show how, in my opinion, overly powerful these sites have grown for us now. In a sense, it feels as though they're sort of stealing our writings now, they're stealing our photos, they're stealing our memories and our own personal notebooks, and though they aren't necessarily doing anything wrong with them, they are definitely using them to sell a book of *their making* instead of our own making, and there is absolutely no way that this is fair. There's no way. We log onto a site like Reddit for instance, and we think of the people on there as, as I wrote above, 'Redditors', instead of what they actually are: INDIVIDUAL WRITERS CORRESPONDING WITH ONE ANOTHER. We literally wind up looking at everything they are writing almost as though it is just some sort of "authorless" thing beamed down to us from the mystical Cloud. The personal individualized footprint gets totally lost.
In many ways I of course love this, because I know how liberating the anonymity factor of the Internet is, and I wouldn't want all my writings connected across the internet , against my will. At the same time though, I think we need to start coming to an understanding about just how valuable some of these conversations and comments we leave behind on YouTube, Reddit, and Facebook are, and one way to do that, I think, is to rip them out of the webpage, as I said, and drop them somewhere else ... where they can sit by themselves, alone. Doing this lends an almost automatic importance and-what- thoughtfulness to the piece, whatever it may be, that simply is not there when it exists surrounded by the workings of the websites, and all the photos around it, et cetera et cetera....
just thoughts----------
I often waste precious writing time these days writing up YouTube comments. At first it was funny. Now it is beginning to get annoying, however, because it's like I somehow got addicted to it and...well, what is the sense of writing a YouTube comment really - especially the sort that I write, which are oftentimes not just one or two lines, like most people, but 5-6 paragraphs filled with my feelings, my thoughts, and my take on whatever the specific video is.
I guess most people would just say, what, stop writing them if you don't want to ,right, but that's the catch, really: YouTube videos and especially the comments underneath them, since it's like a conversation, often seem to naturally inspire me to think up very great responses , as though I'm engaged in a real conversation with someone, and it's usually only *after* I'm done writing my long comment that I'll realize I was doing all that inspired writing in the dumb YouTube box, instead of Microsoft Word (which is where I prefer to write, because I feel like a professional!).
Basically YouTube inspires writing for me in the same way that I feel a writer in the past would have been inspired by a letter being sent to his door and... when you think of it like that, I do think that it suddenly starts to feel as though there's something sad about the manner in which the YouTube Comments or, even, for that matter, message board conversations, are archived, when it comes to this generation.
How come?? It's basically because, if you've ever read anything about the writers of the past, you'll know that all their correspondences were rather meticulously archived oftentimes and not just archived but even published and widely studied -- occasionally just as much as their books. William Burroughs for instance, for all the traveling he did and even though he did not have a fixed address for almost his entire life, was actually said to keep very serious track of basically all the letters he wrote to his friends. Which means to say that William would have two copies of every letter he wrote, one to be sent, the other to be archived somewhere and saved.Back then they called it 'a carbon copy'.
What I find so incredible about this is that, when you swing open the books of letters that have been compiled of Burroughs, you come to see pretty quickly (and shockingly for me) that many of these letters are exceedingly short, not even beyond 3 or 4 paragraphs sometimes. Essentially just a page. And of course it's often the same with a number of other authors, their books of letters are often also filled with these very, very short correspondences, sometimes about the most random subjects imaginable; but i think I found it so intriguing with William because here we have someone who was always moving, never in one place (which is very much liek an Internet surfer, I always say) and yet he also made sure to keep track of those letters, no matter how short they were ...which at this point are, in my opinion, completely invaluable to studying and understanding him as an author. Looking at letters could not be any more different than looking at books....
In todays age though, it's clear to see that this idea has basically all but faded out of view for most of us. We value longer pieces of writing still, in terms of archiving, but when it comes to something short , like a 3 paragraph thing you type quickly in the morning to your pal on text, this is not at all thought of as something to archive. Not at all. This is now considered throw away stuff. People log onto the New York Times website and write up an angry 5 paragraph response (and oftentimes a very interesting one) in regards to the morning news...and then the next day -bloop--they forget it forever. No way to re-trace it. Just gone. Someone else will find it , but not you. For you it's gone. You forget the article you left it under, you forget the newspaper maybe...so on and so forth.
When it comes to myself for instance, I always say: I've been browsing the Internet since I was a 10 year old kid in 1999. I have written dozens of journal entries upon it. I have submitted photos upon it. I have joined poetry contests upon it. Been a member of various message boards upon it. Started numerous websites that then collapsed upon it. Had thousands and thousands (so it would seem) of incredibly long winded chat conversations on it, in a multitude of langauges. And yet ... when I look back at all my internet travels, guess what? There is almost nothing there in a sense, unless you start talking about Facebook or my own YouTube channels. Beyond those two sites (and in fact I have a big YouTube horror story of mass video deletion occurring once) I essentially have no way anymore to track down everything I was doing on the internet throughout my middle school, teenage, college, and even early 20 something years. Almost all of it has been lost entirely. It's as though I never existed, for years and years, as though I was just sitting on here taking things in and never adding anything of my own --- even though that was not at all the case....
I do not remember the usernames I used and typed under on many a message board. I don't remember the passwords for old e-mail accounts. My old MySpace account, or LiveJournal account, or maybe ...I dunno... some WordPress or Angelfire account of old, which all had numerous diary entries and photos and short stories of my teenage years, it's all lost completely, taken down at some point by the hosts of the Site when I wasn't looking, after forgetting abouut it for years, or just, as I said, the username and damn password lost to time ... and, since I never thought to store any of the files on *my own computer* (and then too since I've switched dsktops and laptops numerous times) there's nothing I can do about it. The only copy of everything that existed was in the Cloud, and because it just always seems like everything in the Cloud is there 'forever', it never occurred to me to make copies of it. Not a single time more or less. Basically the only stuff I still have from back then is , surprise surprise, the stuff that I just so happened to print out.
I suppose I would feel absolutely horrific about all of this, except for the fact that I realize this has happened to many many people and not just me, which is why in my opinion I think it's a sign of the times really, and definitely a testament to the rather bizarre nature of the Digital age. What we basically seem to have here is an age where , as a result of being able to store so many things so easily on such tiny little devices, we have thus obviously started to become rather confused, and we have a hard time keeping track of things, especially those of us, I think, who grew up with the Internet when we were just getting started , because we never really had a chance to understand how people used to store documents and photos beforehand, in the physical world. I think everyone has had the experience of going to a friends house, sitting down at the computer or the laptop, popping the screensaver off and being greeted by a desktop screen that is so filled with icons and documents you don't even know what is going on. In a way, this absurdly disorganized screen that most of us work with is a testament to just how hard it can be to keep track of things, even now in this so-called "Revolutionary" age of memory. We are literally drowning under the Internet and its seriously insane clutter. It's like a massive city and there are so many buildings in it that you do not remember which ones you have gone into, even so much as a day later, let alone 10 years or 15 years.
The plain truth as far as I am concerned is that, though there is clearly far more storage space (infinite), it is actually a bit more difficult to store things now, than it used to be, in some sense, nd a big part of this is because its not at all encouraged as a result of the fact that the Internet appears to be doing a hell of a good job storing everything for you, and keeping track of it, even when it really isn't. The truth of the Internet and its storage capabilities is that it's all just an illusion, and leaving your stuff somewhere (like, say, uploading your artwork to some random site ) is often like leaving your bags down in some random library room: You will more likely than not lose them, because you will probably forget the username and password, eventually, and then you'll realize...whoops! It's too late.
It's the same with every site, I'm telling you: You upload a bunch of long winded responses you type, for example, to a site like Reddit, and it seems like Reddit is storing it all for you, and though it is indeed doing that, the fact is that it isn't really storing it, in a way, for you *personally*. It is storing it instead for Reddit, and the other random people on Reddit, and for Google. It does not care about you. It does not care, really, to make something like a compilation of you and everything you have said, so that someone like myself can go back and look through your various comments and have them all in a sort of order just like I had the letters of William Burroughs. It isn't really too interested in making a sort of narrative out of your Internet travels. Only *you* can really be interested in doing that (just like only William himself was interested in making sure his letters were archived, not the Post offices across the world) but, again, the thing is that, right now, this idea of archiving is just thought of as kind of loony. It doesn't occur to us to do it or to take an interest in it because we are all blinded by the illusion. We really think the Internet is storing it all for us, automatically. There is even a ton of paranoia in regards to this idea. Which in my opinion is overblown...because the truth is that re-tracing even your own Internet footsteps, let alone someone elses, is next to impossible oftentimes (especially if you are hopping from computer to computer, I think).
Don't believe me maybe? Well, if you are a message board user or a Redditor or a person who likes commenting somewhere and you occasionally type 2 or 3 paragraphs even, then just copy and paste whatever you write next time, and then plug it into Notepad on your computer, or Word, and see how odd and lonely it suddenly looks, when it is stripped away from the workings of the website. Take someones Facebook status, for example, or even one of those "Twitter thunderstorms" people go on, where they type 10 different tweets to get out a paragraph, and watch how odd and utterly removed the block of text looks, in just some word processor. Maybe its jsut me; but every time I do this, I always think it looks so damn different that it's almost surreal...as though it doesn't belong anywhere else except for the website...and this to me just goes to show how, in my opinion, overly powerful these sites have grown for us now. In a sense, it feels as though they're sort of stealing our writings now, they're stealing our photos, they're stealing our memories and our own personal notebooks, and though they aren't necessarily doing anything wrong with them, they are definitely using them to sell a book of *their making* instead of our own making, and there is absolutely no way that this is fair. There's no way. We log onto a site like Reddit for instance, and we think of the people on there as, as I wrote above, 'Redditors', instead of what they actually are: INDIVIDUAL WRITERS CORRESPONDING WITH ONE ANOTHER. We literally wind up looking at everything they are writing almost as though it is just some sort of "authorless" thing beamed down to us from the mystical Cloud. The personal individualized footprint gets totally lost.
In many ways I of course love this, because I know how liberating the anonymity factor of the Internet is, and I wouldn't want all my writings connected across the internet , against my will. At the same time though, I think we need to start coming to an understanding about just how valuable some of these conversations and comments we leave behind on YouTube, Reddit, and Facebook are, and one way to do that, I think, is to rip them out of the webpage, as I said, and drop them somewhere else ... where they can sit by themselves, alone. Doing this lends an almost automatic importance and-what- thoughtfulness to the piece, whatever it may be, that simply is not there when it exists surrounded by the workings of the websites, and all the photos around it, et cetera et cetera....
just thoughts----------
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Italy Poem
PLANEZ TO ITALIA
On the plane to italy
I remember thinking I'd write great poems
dedicated to the country
One day
and yet it seems that it somehow
has never happened.
Maybe learning to speak Italian
did me in somehow
because now when I'm mister English again
nothing seems to come
(I hear no real drum!).
But I do wish still sometimes that
I could write something in honor
of that "Bel Paese"
and I do wish that it would be something that
would last....
and yet it seems that
for all my dreams
That in the end I just can't .....
Do these things!
Italy evades me on the paper
Because Italy is too special
and old and sodden and ancient
To truly and easily write well about----
Hemingway was able to write well of Italy
Because he was nearly killed there, murdered
and blown up in a trench ...or a fox hole....
and then handed back his life at a hospital in
where was it
'Milano?
As for me I went to Italy
Landing in big Pisa
and then I rode around on the back
Of my buddies motorcycle
up through the mountains of Tuscany
winding on and on and on like it was
all some sort of sweet beautiful precious
Dream and
Now I sit
thinking of it and it makes me want to cry
when I realize truthfully
just how far away it all
Already is
And of course then I remember
That next year
it will be --- you know how long?
100 years since Hemingway arrived, and
3 summers since I have
arrived.
Fucking bastard
of a country!
Bitch of a land!
Che puttana bellissima....
of a country!
Bitch of a land!
Che puttana bellissima....
indeed how
I loved thee,
you sweet good
wine drinking
mountains.....
yearning
burning
again.
yearning
burning
again.
Hence
I Shout
and scream:
Jesus God almighty.....
Here's my poem for Italy
at least one of them.
Now do you think you can let me back in?
I really can't bare to say it and say it and say it and say it again:
America gives me tired sad eyes.
Please let me
out
Of America
but
be nice about it.....
I am tired of all the politicking here
there is too much
politicking
and nothing ever winds up
working anyways....
in Italy I can break my arm
and get it fixed
at no cost.
so I just wanna go back to Italy.
Don't make a shit of a difference really,
All the other things----
Don't make a shit of a difference cause
this country
is boring me
literally
To
death------
Niykee Heaton
Niykee Heaton seems to be the big new thang right now and I've got to say: I'm really loving it!
I first found her of course like everyone else, I saw her in the Migos video , which not even being a fan of Migos or previously knowing who they were I'm not sure how I was directed to them; but...the video popped up on my YouTube feed and I watched it, was most definitely turned on times a trillion by it (as literally every character is as sexy as can be, especially Niykee with her braids and the scarf bandana) and then I did some more digging on Niykee, cause I was curious, I'll admit , if she was white or not and, not long after that, I came to discover that she's actually a halfway decent guitarist whose apparrntly put out a slew of homemade YouTube guitar videos before landing this seriously different role that she's now playing.....
Which personally I found fascinating! So I kept watching and searching and ..well, pretty much everything I found by Niykee Heaton I'm basically gonna give a HUGE 16 out of 10! And please keep in mind that this sort of rating isn't at all typical for me cause usually I'm pretty choosy and, though I often adore female rappers (aka I'm a big slut for TriNa) I don't usually dig female pop singers all that much, cause beyond female rap I'm usually just a rocker but... that's really the thang with Niykee Heaton: she's definitely speeding in a pop direction but she's also at once, at the very least, very knowledgable about rock and the songs also actually sound somewhat rocky too. Which is really saying quite a bit when you consider that someone like Lady Gaga tries to claim a rock background but all her songs sound like she's trying to be ...I'm not sure who, but someone annoying in my opinion, 9 times out of 10.
Don't get me wrong: I occasionally grind to Gaga, but from a rocker perspective she's lame. Niykee Heaton: not the case. I dig her. Loads. I like her dances, her outfits, her stage persona, the braids, the songs, the whole 9 yards. Yessss I'm definitely excited about this star and it's a welcome relief after all those months of feeling sort of trapped with depressing Lana Del Rey ....
---- Veronica the Pinkest Angel
I first found her of course like everyone else, I saw her in the Migos video , which not even being a fan of Migos or previously knowing who they were I'm not sure how I was directed to them; but...the video popped up on my YouTube feed and I watched it, was most definitely turned on times a trillion by it (as literally every character is as sexy as can be, especially Niykee with her braids and the scarf bandana) and then I did some more digging on Niykee, cause I was curious, I'll admit , if she was white or not and, not long after that, I came to discover that she's actually a halfway decent guitarist whose apparrntly put out a slew of homemade YouTube guitar videos before landing this seriously different role that she's now playing.....
Which personally I found fascinating! So I kept watching and searching and ..well, pretty much everything I found by Niykee Heaton I'm basically gonna give a HUGE 16 out of 10! And please keep in mind that this sort of rating isn't at all typical for me cause usually I'm pretty choosy and, though I often adore female rappers (aka I'm a big slut for TriNa) I don't usually dig female pop singers all that much, cause beyond female rap I'm usually just a rocker but... that's really the thang with Niykee Heaton: she's definitely speeding in a pop direction but she's also at once, at the very least, very knowledgable about rock and the songs also actually sound somewhat rocky too. Which is really saying quite a bit when you consider that someone like Lady Gaga tries to claim a rock background but all her songs sound like she's trying to be ...I'm not sure who, but someone annoying in my opinion, 9 times out of 10.
Don't get me wrong: I occasionally grind to Gaga, but from a rocker perspective she's lame. Niykee Heaton: not the case. I dig her. Loads. I like her dances, her outfits, her stage persona, the braids, the songs, the whole 9 yards. Yessss I'm definitely excited about this star and it's a welcome relief after all those months of feeling sort of trapped with depressing Lana Del Rey ....
---- Veronica the Pinkest Angel
Saturday, March 25, 2017
creature Under Lake
i am hi and very
stoned up on top of
the world
having fun again
because
its almost summer and
i am dreaming
of simple things again
like diving boards
above lakes
and me doing a triple flip
narrowly avoiding cracking
my skull open
on the diving board
flushing out Boom boom boom
splashing out
into the lake
look at me because i'm like a fish
in a mountain stream swimming
zigging
zagging
so easy and breezy and so fun!
call me little Mystic Snake Fish
i want to wake up again
in another world
and get named that.....
but, anyways, i am
thinking and imagining now, again,
about
swimming deep beneath the Lake
(oh so dark the lake,
and oh so bubbly,
and oh so warm and cozy)
and i am imagining that
deep down under that lake
i'll be seeing a huge
lochness creature
or a koala bear
or a lizard
or a dragon
under the water
and he'll be peaceful and stoned
hi hi hi hi hi just like me
and we will spit water and blow bubbles
at each other
and i'll be naked
and he will be naked
and we'll both be naked
and i'll have goggles in my swimming trunks
that i'll pull out
and put on
and stare at him
and he will stare @ me
the little beautiful swimming slime ball
creature
and then we will surface up from the Lake
and realize
its the dead middle of winter
in Michigan
and i'll ask him
"little slime ball
do you
smoke
opium
by any
chance?"
and he will nod.
stoned up on top of
the world
having fun again
because
its almost summer and
i am dreaming
of simple things again
like diving boards
above lakes
and me doing a triple flip
narrowly avoiding cracking
my skull open
on the diving board
flushing out Boom boom boom
splashing out
into the lake
look at me because i'm like a fish
in a mountain stream swimming
zigging
zagging
so easy and breezy and so fun!
call me little Mystic Snake Fish
i want to wake up again
in another world
and get named that.....
but, anyways, i am
thinking and imagining now, again,
about
swimming deep beneath the Lake
(oh so dark the lake,
and oh so bubbly,
and oh so warm and cozy)
and i am imagining that
deep down under that lake
i'll be seeing a huge
lochness creature
or a koala bear
or a lizard
or a dragon
under the water
and he'll be peaceful and stoned
hi hi hi hi hi just like me
and we will spit water and blow bubbles
at each other
and i'll be naked
and he will be naked
and we'll both be naked
and i'll have goggles in my swimming trunks
that i'll pull out
and put on
and stare at him
and he will stare @ me
the little beautiful swimming slime ball
creature
and then we will surface up from the Lake
and realize
its the dead middle of winter
in Michigan
and i'll ask him
"little slime ball
do you
smoke
opium
by any
chance?"
and he will nod.
fast Olivetti poems
in the middle of
Paris
at a Cafe
looking down at the
hard stone ground
counting
androids
in my head
and wishing i Had the Guts
to dial
her number again
so that we could go out 2night
and we could drink
wine 2night
and get pissy and bombed 2night
but
alas
i won't dial her. naw.
i will just sit here instead
like a dumb Monsieur
typing and scribbling on
this
stupid phone
wearing these corduroy pants
and these embroidered loafers
that i stole
from the store because they make me
feel rich
and
lofty.....
and tomorrow maybe
when i wake up
in Paris again
leaving behind my dream
of torture
(for she tortures me inside
my dreams)
oh tomorrow maybe
when I'll be one day older
i will stroll down the Old Rue here
and
i'll be smoking my electrified bogie
blowing out bright thick
white bubbles of smoke
all these dumb Parisians staring at me
and i'll be staring up at the blue ciel'
and i'll scream
maybe
like i used to do back in
Providence Rhode Island
and i'll stomp my feet
on the Cold hard Ground and
i'll take my phone out of the
corduroy pants
(which, i guarantee you,i'll still be wearing
even after sleeping)
and i'll check to see
did she
call
did
she
call
did
she
call
and if she called i will run
galloping
suddenly
flickering and flashing into a Horse
or an Anubis
in the streets of paris
and i'll scream just
like i said
back in
Providence
and
then she will
call call call call call call
again and again
and she'll say
"IM FLYING IN
TO CHARLES DE GAULLE
IM COMING
TO MARRY YOU
IN PARIS
AND WE ARE
NEVER
GOING HOME
OK?"
and i'll
just faint
and
get bombed
2night
dreaming
of it
and
this.
Paris
at a Cafe
looking down at the
hard stone ground
counting
androids
in my head
and wishing i Had the Guts
to dial
her number again
so that we could go out 2night
and we could drink
wine 2night
and get pissy and bombed 2night
but
alas
i won't dial her. naw.
i will just sit here instead
like a dumb Monsieur
typing and scribbling on
this
stupid phone
wearing these corduroy pants
and these embroidered loafers
that i stole
from the store because they make me
feel rich
and
lofty.....
and tomorrow maybe
when i wake up
in Paris again
leaving behind my dream
of torture
(for she tortures me inside
my dreams)
oh tomorrow maybe
when I'll be one day older
i will stroll down the Old Rue here
and
i'll be smoking my electrified bogie
blowing out bright thick
white bubbles of smoke
all these dumb Parisians staring at me
and i'll be staring up at the blue ciel'
and i'll scream
maybe
like i used to do back in
Providence Rhode Island
and i'll stomp my feet
on the Cold hard Ground and
i'll take my phone out of the
corduroy pants
(which, i guarantee you,i'll still be wearing
even after sleeping)
and i'll check to see
did she
call
did
she
call
did
she
call
and if she called i will run
galloping
suddenly
flickering and flashing into a Horse
or an Anubis
in the streets of paris
and i'll scream just
like i said
back in
Providence
and
then she will
call call call call call call
again and again
and she'll say
"IM FLYING IN
TO CHARLES DE GAULLE
IM COMING
TO MARRY YOU
IN PARIS
AND WE ARE
NEVER
GOING HOME
OK?"
and i'll
just faint
and
get bombed
2night
dreaming
of it
and
this.
Good characters
Characters, Searching For them:
characters are very hard to come by,
good ones at least,
especially in a society like this
that is hell bent on
marginalizing and casting off
so many good ones.
i am finding that it is
really very hard
for me to Zero in on certain good
characters
because society tells me that, well,
y'know
i should not be bothered with them.
society , man, it has this
one very particular idea
of who or what is a Good character
and then it is sort of ....everyone else
be damned.
Unfortunately it seems i have never
met the sort of
characters
that society would like me to meet.
everyone i have come into contact with
throughout my life---
they're all absolute weirdos,
as far as
literature
and the page
is concerned.
I do not know any Jason Bourne
or Lee Child
characters,
i do not know any Harry Potters
or Gwyneth Paltrows,
i do not know
any
Sin City cast members
or Willy Wonkas
or Charlie Wonkas
or even Michael Corleones
and yet...and yet...and yet...and yet....
when i sit down here
to write,
i must conjure them
and conjure them
and conjure them,
or else y'all start
getting mad @ me....
well it's OK i guess,
i don't mind,
i like Jason Bourne as much as
all the rest of you ....
it's just that sometimes i sit
and i get to thinking:
wouldn't it be nice
if i could just paint
someone
utterly
typical
for once?
wouldn't it
really
be
something?
but it will never happen.
characters are very hard to come by,
good ones at least,
especially in a society like this
that is hell bent on
marginalizing and casting off
so many good ones.
i am finding that it is
really very hard
for me to Zero in on certain good
characters
because society tells me that, well,
y'know
i should not be bothered with them.
society , man, it has this
one very particular idea
of who or what is a Good character
and then it is sort of ....everyone else
be damned.
Unfortunately it seems i have never
met the sort of
characters
that society would like me to meet.
everyone i have come into contact with
throughout my life---
they're all absolute weirdos,
as far as
literature
and the page
is concerned.
I do not know any Jason Bourne
or Lee Child
characters,
i do not know any Harry Potters
or Gwyneth Paltrows,
i do not know
any
Sin City cast members
or Willy Wonkas
or Charlie Wonkas
or even Michael Corleones
and yet...and yet...and yet...and yet....
when i sit down here
to write,
i must conjure them
and conjure them
and conjure them,
or else y'all start
getting mad @ me....
well it's OK i guess,
i don't mind,
i like Jason Bourne as much as
all the rest of you ....
it's just that sometimes i sit
and i get to thinking:
wouldn't it be nice
if i could just paint
someone
utterly
typical
for once?
wouldn't it
really
be
something?
but it will never happen.
losing things
i hate e-mails
because they never get lost
and personally I am a
fan of losing things.
losings things is not always
so bad as most people make it
out to be.
i like losing things, i think,
in fact, it might just be
one of my all-time favorite
things to do.
i like it because i don't like
remembering the past
all that much,
because the past
tends to get in the way,
and it tends to scare me,
too,
once i realize how much time
has really gone by.
there is also the fact
that
as a Writer
i tend to rework the same
theme
over & over & over again and......
nevermind.
i just don't like keeping
things
the way
e-mail does
these days,
and i was sitting here having
my morning cup of Joe
and i thought
i can't think of anything else
to write
this morning
so why not
this?
now of course.....
well
i won't even get
started.
but let's just say,
in regards to this poem,
if you are reading it,
i'm sorry,
because i was hoping it
would get
lost.....
(and for me, it probably is
but for you, well,
unfortunately,
it seems you've
found
it.)
because they never get lost
and personally I am a
fan of losing things.
losings things is not always
so bad as most people make it
out to be.
i like losing things, i think,
in fact, it might just be
one of my all-time favorite
things to do.
i like it because i don't like
remembering the past
all that much,
because the past
tends to get in the way,
and it tends to scare me,
too,
once i realize how much time
has really gone by.
there is also the fact
that
as a Writer
i tend to rework the same
theme
over & over & over again and......
nevermind.
i just don't like keeping
things
the way
e-mail does
these days,
and i was sitting here having
my morning cup of Joe
and i thought
i can't think of anything else
to write
this morning
so why not
this?
now of course.....
well
i won't even get
started.
but let's just say,
in regards to this poem,
if you are reading it,
i'm sorry,
because i was hoping it
would get
lost.....
(and for me, it probably is
but for you, well,
unfortunately,
it seems you've
found
it.)
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Deep Web Thoughts #2
More on the Deep Web: How Deep Will It G0???
O.K. So the previous post was about the possible future of the web and in my opinion the most interesting part of it came towards the end, when I briefly mentioned the fact that it is very easy for me to imagine a sort of "dystopian" future (I hate that word!) where things that you wouldn't even associate with the deep web in our own time, like the news, could possibly be pushed into it, and underground, in the future.
What do I mean exactly? Well it's sort of easy to imagine, I feel, especially if you've been following the recent scandals of the Trump administration and all the rest of it, with the various claims that folks from literally every aisle have made, in regards to fake news. Fake news has ruled the day with this election and now the administration. Well what could the future of fake news -- or even real news -- or , more importantly, even just information be , as far as the Deep web is concerned? Is it possible, for instance, that information we now take for granted could, in the future, somehow be pushed to the depths of the web? Stored behind hard-to-find websites and passwords and proxies and so on and so forth? The War on Drugs and the information about Drugs for starters would seem to perhaps be something totally plausible when it comes to this idea.
A lot of the reading and watching that I did on the drug war prior to Trump getting elected told me that it was winding down, and certainly the entire marijuana legalization movement also had me believing this as well (and everyone else) - but whose to say now that we won't wind up tipping in another direction, where not only the drug war gets ramped up considerably (as it would seem might be the case now) but even where the Internet itself starts to get blamed for the proliferation of the drugs and thus ...most naturally...dealt with accordingly? And what would be the first thing to deal with in this big new war? I'll tell you: Websites here upon the "Basic web" that are easily accessible and tell you a lot about all sorts of illegal drugs and feature discussions and forums that revolve around them. In our own time period anyone can go to Google and type in "what is LSD??" or "how to grow pot??" and get a response. But in the future? In the future - and I dunno about you, voyager, but for me it's pretty easy to imagine --- whose to say these sites won't all wind up pushed right off the surface of the web and thrown underground? Into the dark?? Perhaps you could even say the deep web will be a sort of ghetto on the Internet of the future. I can imagine games and everything on it, just being locked down inside of it, utterly inaccessible to regular, wholesome Christian Americans.
If you ask me, the way it would probably start is that we would be told the internet needed some sort of "filter" to protect the wholesome amongst us from accidentally stumbling upon non-Christian content, and we might even be told that the new model of filtering everything is going to even be profitable, because I can sort of imagine a scenario where these kinds of websites might become like many porn sites are even in our own time, where you gotta pay to enter, but then it's totally within reason (at least to me!) to envision a scenario where, not long after that, the sites just get thrown out of the acceptable Internet entirely, whipped straight out of the acceptable market as well, in much the same way that something like prostitution has been jack knifed out of the acceptable market entirely in this so called "free country", and the next thing we would be looking at it ...yes...as said before: An entire field of information, fun, games, and news et cetera that would only be available on a deep layer of the web that, for most laypeople, would be not just difficult to access, but perhaps even dangerous, because - one imagines - you'd have to have certain sorts of codes and "proxies" and covers to protect you whilst you were in it, without getting snuffed. ..
A dark, black hole of the internet essentially that you would have to be some sort of hacking genius to get yourself to the bottom of. Which is of course only a ver small percentage of us, and hence basically next to nobody. Most of us would be screwed! The Internet as we know it totally destroyed. Free information zapped right out of .... reality, and a whole new reality swinging up in its place. God damn god damn.....
Again, this will, more likely than not, all start off in small, little increments, but it would gradually build and build until a whole other gigantic world would be living down there, in much the same way that a whole other world is living down below the margins of this society right now, since so many things have been prohibited, based on God not thinking they are good things for good, wholesome folk to be doing.
And this of course is where that oh so intriguing idea of the alternative Deep web news broadcasts comes back to me because, though many people do not think of it in todays age, when it comes to something like substances & drugs & so forth, or really for that matter, with anything I suppose, the truth is that brand new information (like those new planets NASA found) as well as brand new drugs are actually being created & synthesized & discovered all the time (some for strictly medicinal purposes, as most are probably aware,b ut also some for wild purposes) and whose to say that this news of discovery in the future won't be strictly in the deep, not allowed to come to the surface, to taint the minds of the wholesome Christ lovers who shall bow to the American theocracy once it is in place???
Again, not to be a pessimist, but considering the fact that these drug warriors still have not realized that they've destroyed half the country, and certainly all of the cities within the country, fighting a war on drugs that grow from the Earth, it is exceedingly easy to imagine them also trying to fight a very, very serious war on the information or future discovery of these drugs, or anything that makes them uncomfortable for that matter.... to the point where - who knows? - even just being caught talking about a certain future drug will have you hanged in the name of God Almighty. I can see the future Vice President , appointed to a life term by the American God of Alabama, giving a speech on it now, dressed in ceremonial robes and waving a wand around : "He was trying to poison the minds of the wholesome with ideas about festival drugs that need not be taught, he was trying to tell people that you took the drugs and it gave you a smile for weeks, and therefore he is to be hanged."
Conservatives in support of the hanging will come out in droves from all around: "Anyone opposed to this is just a wimpy libral! We're all for it! We're all for it!" Little do they realize of course that the man who they're hanging for inventing a fun Saturday night party drug is also the same man who, five years from then, had he been allowed to live, would have invented a drug to cure blindness within a weeks time as well. But hey, Liberals are scum, so suttin' gotta be dun' about em, ain't that right? And that something that will be done will be this, what, this covering of information.
Don't forget folks that, when theocracies come about and really get going, one thing they like to do is to make sure that information gets as muddied, obscure, and hard to come by as possible. The level of technology that is or is not around at the time of the theocracy being in place is irrelevant , because the Christ lovers, or Allah lovers, or whoever, can and will find ways around it. That's why during the Dark Ages, when Christians reigned as literal kings and forced us all to worship God as they and they alone interpreted him, the Bible was actually illegal to read by yourself outside of Church. Peasants were taught that they did not have the capacity of mind to interpret the Bible on their own, and that they needed it to be read to them by a priest, in order to fully 'comprehend it' and its divinity. In other words, the information was withheld from them......
Oh, y ou think it sounds so ridiculous, do you? Why? Because of what? Because you think that information travels freely these days, isn't that right ?That information would be impossible to block off in this time period, isn't that right, because of all the technology that exists and so on and so forth, or because we have already lived in an age where information is indeed widespread and you think that , what, it can't go backwards? Well, for starters, the entire Dark Age period was very much a period of information not so much being lost, as many English schools paint it, but rather being HIDDEN, and in addition, I have just shown you exactly how information could easily be blocked off even now in the age of computers, as it was in the Dark ages. For the truth is that, for as enlightened as the world supposedly is now, having tools like computers at its disposal and all of that, it still doesn't change the fact that just hiding what you, as a base citizen, can or cannot see on this computer would change the name of the game entirely. After all, if there were no computers, where in the good fuck would you have found this very essay? Answer: You never would have, because in an age of information being boxed away and hidden solely for the rich....even something as small as this would probably fade fade away....
Just some thoughts..---
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GENJI SAN
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