18.11.10
Hark! the typewriter calls!
At an impasse of writing
The necessary evolution mounds
from Pen[cil] and paper
The necessary devolution resounds
from digital lap top and pc.
Hark! Typewriter!
between tired written ink splotch squibbles
and lame fart hyper technic unbashable keyboard
mechanize the wrist
lubricate the metacarples
within the invocation of typing the product is not seen
there is,
simply,
tempetuous intimacy
this is typing
unbroken incantations
formulas of streaming mind
the dabble dabble of mystic babble
and so
fingers fingering the notes
converging matrix that becomes erotically lost
in the creative process.
Again!
product is not found
is is the happening process
and industrial blood vein
pumping pulsating
the machines
the organics
thrust into
milking magic
erupting the viscosity
ahhhhh....!
....
Typewriter,
you are the maturity of a refined madman.
13.7.10
9.5.10
Journal Log I: The Smiling Heathen Buddha
I do not find these 'heathen' inclinations at all beside the Buddha Dharma that I have injected into my veins throughout my spiritual and living development towards a decent worthwhile human creature.
Recently I have found myself drawn to something which I cannot explain reasonably or rationally.
I can say that there is a strong element of raw mythic energy to it. Which. may, be tapped into intuitively.
It is raw, maybe mystic, heathen, mythic, a regal buddha in the bush, who sits as part of the tree that shelters him and vibrates with the energy of the roots through his bottom. Sure it is kundalini + prana + whatever else.
Notably I notice quite a strong sexual vigour and with the yoga practice I see the need to direct that Swadhistana energy through the shushumna.
More so I see myself moving away from the strict academics. Visions of sacred geometry infest me, ancient mythic elements want to adopt me. A state of primal calm - a vast tranquil ocean, a vast sunset horizon becomes the picture of my mind.
Images of wizards, yogis, sages and mystics fill a world of spiritual norm, yet there is always a buzz of magical play at hand.
I am indeed still quite an ignorant fool, with selfish desires that ache for satisfaction, yet I also see their transitoriness and therefore give them no ignition. This I equally and ultimately thank to the nembutsu: namu Amita BU.
What are all these visions and audio presences that whisper in me?
Jung's 'archetypes seem quite close but are still quite personified.
I do not know? Yet very much a karmic unravelling.
They example in strange appeals to watch movies with odd themes or books with subjects of raw nature.
Slowly... quickly i find my world shaping and shifting to this growing interest and 'calling', if you will, to something pre-personified.
I will also take the responsibility of my own mind manifestations, I am foremostly the creator of such visions.
Yet they all seep in on a fog of precious mystery, a "cloud of unknowing", a myst of mind.
I do not simply want to wait in some form of fear of intimacy or intensity, as I am finding, I am allowed to act humbly on my intuition with a proper does of critical humour.
Mmm...
Humm...
Om...
Aum...
A...mita...
Recently I have found myself drawn to something which I cannot explain reasonably or rationally.
I can say that there is a strong element of raw mythic energy to it. Which. may, be tapped into intuitively.
It is raw, maybe mystic, heathen, mythic, a regal buddha in the bush, who sits as part of the tree that shelters him and vibrates with the energy of the roots through his bottom. Sure it is kundalini + prana + whatever else.
Notably I notice quite a strong sexual vigour and with the yoga practice I see the need to direct that Swadhistana energy through the shushumna.
More so I see myself moving away from the strict academics. Visions of sacred geometry infest me, ancient mythic elements want to adopt me. A state of primal calm - a vast tranquil ocean, a vast sunset horizon becomes the picture of my mind.
Images of wizards, yogis, sages and mystics fill a world of spiritual norm, yet there is always a buzz of magical play at hand.
I am indeed still quite an ignorant fool, with selfish desires that ache for satisfaction, yet I also see their transitoriness and therefore give them no ignition. This I equally and ultimately thank to the nembutsu: namu Amita BU.
What are all these visions and audio presences that whisper in me?
Jung's 'archetypes seem quite close but are still quite personified.
I do not know? Yet very much a karmic unravelling.
They example in strange appeals to watch movies with odd themes or books with subjects of raw nature.
Slowly... quickly i find my world shaping and shifting to this growing interest and 'calling', if you will, to something pre-personified.
I will also take the responsibility of my own mind manifestations, I am foremostly the creator of such visions.
Yet they all seep in on a fog of precious mystery, a "cloud of unknowing", a myst of mind.
I do not simply want to wait in some form of fear of intimacy or intensity, as I am finding, I am allowed to act humbly on my intuition with a proper does of critical humour.
Mmm...
Humm...
Om...
Aum...
A...mita...
8.5.10
old one
the mist
the fog
the woods
the mountains
the clouds
the waters
dust
the soil
the silence
the hum
the heat
the sun
the darkness
the stars
the winds
the glow
the shadows
the frost
the rocks
the roots
the blossoms
the hills
the valley
the lake
the grass
the wilderness
the flame
the ash
space
the womb
the cock
decay
the stink
the moon
the milk
the rain
the storm
the static
the roar
the breath
the mind
the void
the mind
mind
the luminous mind
the fog
the woods
the mountains
the clouds
the waters
dust
the soil
the silence
the hum
the heat
the sun
the darkness
the stars
the winds
the glow
the shadows
the frost
the rocks
the roots
the blossoms
the hills
the valley
the lake
the grass
the wilderness
the flame
the ash
space
the womb
the cock
decay
the stink
the moon
the milk
the rain
the storm
the static
the roar
the breath
the mind
the void
the mind
mind
the luminous mind
4.5.10
"Diamond Guts" - DORJE DROLO
I have never had the priviledge of meeting Trungpa Rinpoche in person, I am sure that would not have been entirely possible as I was only born in 1983 whereas he passed on through in 1987.
Nonetheless, I have meet Trungpa Rinpoche in many accompanying disguises, mostly through the remains of his former manifestation, as the Venerable Vajracarya Chögyam Mukpo, the XIth Trungpa Rinpoche;
and not to mention those few special moments of 'KRAZZY VISDEM' which quite spontaneously made their way into my blood consciousness.
I love this pic.
I think it is ultimately what 'Existentialism' lacked throughout its development.
Remembering Camus and the "virgin suicide" here we have something utterly playful and raw. This is not suicide this is diving into the bowels of madness nose first.
I can tell you now, the jump was not fruitless, with him he took a bag of seeds and used the vile conditions to grow beautiful Shambhala lotuses.
Meet the Sun on your Rising! Ki Ki So So
and for complimentary digestion
Call Home over the Sunset Ocean! Namu Amita Bu
29.4.10
Hurhummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
digging deep
deeper than allowed
beyond what your equipment may hold
predating the evolutions
of
religious cultures
before
mythic tales
the
'old ones'
lie
in
the darkest recesses
of
the mind.
when man emerged
arrogantly
personifying this arcane energy
with his God, her gods
the
'old ones'
were disturbed
shaped & shifted
into
concretised ideas
&
flimsy concepts
naturally
'they'
reacted strongly
to our immature
development.
two products ensued
those of
utter 'fear' and utter 'humility'
obviously the latter was most rare
when man forgot
'their' primal power
arrogance prevailed
they were quickly meet
with 'fear'
those who never forgot
faced arrogance
with
courageous 'humility'
and
stood naked
before
'the old ones'
feasting on the secrets
warm, dark, earthy
that
rest in the deep
of the mind
'empty' & 'primal'
raw energy
'noncreated'
'unemerged'
mind
not belonging to anyone
lay unborn
in
'the old ones'
neither
'evil' nor 'not-evil'
even
the name
'the old ones'
is illegible.
As we
grow older
forgetting easier
[easier to forget]
we
are never forgotten
how could we be?
'the old ones'
surround us every moment
in every particle
of
dust
mind
carries
'their' archetypes
'their' blood is in us
HA!
we cannot be separated from 'them'
so
why 'fear'?
we are
as
'old'
as
'they'!
Have You forgotten!?
before your potential
is
fulfilled
you will remember
far beyond
conceived existence...
Hurhummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
deeper than allowed
beyond what your equipment may hold
predating the evolutions
of
religious cultures
before
mythic tales
the
'old ones'
lie
in
the darkest recesses
of
the mind.
when man emerged
arrogantly
personifying this arcane energy
with his God, her gods
the
'old ones'
were disturbed
shaped & shifted
into
concretised ideas
&
flimsy concepts
naturally
'they'
reacted strongly
to our immature
development.
two products ensued
those of
utter 'fear' and utter 'humility'
obviously the latter was most rare
when man forgot
'their' primal power
arrogance prevailed
they were quickly meet
with 'fear'
those who never forgot
faced arrogance
with
courageous 'humility'
and
stood naked
before
'the old ones'
feasting on the secrets
warm, dark, earthy
that
rest in the deep
of the mind
'empty' & 'primal'
raw energy
'noncreated'
'unemerged'
mind
not belonging to anyone
lay unborn
in
'the old ones'
neither
'evil' nor 'not-evil'
even
the name
'the old ones'
is illegible.
As we
grow older
forgetting easier
[easier to forget]
we
are never forgotten
how could we be?
'the old ones'
surround us every moment
in every particle
of
dust
mind
carries
'their' archetypes
'their' blood is in us
HA!
we cannot be separated from 'them'
so
why 'fear'?
we are
as
'old'
as
'they'!
Have You forgotten!?
before your potential
is
fulfilled
you will remember
far beyond
conceived existence...
Hurhummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
23.4.10
Who is Charles Monroe?
There has been talk of a new or rather old face that has recently emerged in the media.
The speculation of a possible love-child between pop icon Marilyn Monroe and renowned psychopath Charles Manson has aroused some suspicion. Many consider Marilyn Monroe's passing as having been possibly influenced by this tasteless event in history. Yet Charles Manson had at that time had a proficient ability to persuade. No doubt such a child would have been hidden in a basement dungeon chained to a washing machine and fed dog pellets. Where could such a child have been conceived? Well possibly on a country excursion? The famed pop/sex icon might have found herself on a wild adventure and run into the travelling Manson circus. Wam Bam thank you Mam, a disgusting miracle is born!
Later, during the nineties, a young individual came along playing with the idea of Beauty and Beastliness - none other than Marilyn Manson itself.
Although only so much credit can be given to the mainstream deviant.
Charles Monroe is not at all the ingenious creation as the former, and plays rather the filthier role of human indiscretion. The custodian of the slaughter house.
In the attempt to find Charles Monroe I came very close:

This is Charles Monroe.
But not the Charles Monroe who we are looking for; and I apologize for any offence to Charles Monroe from the U.K. May your life be healthy and prosperous!
It is simply a coincidental matter of similar name. So no need to shoot.
It seems that the elusive search for the combo kid 'Charles Monroe' born and breed from milk and stink, Monroe and Manson will quite possibly never be found.
We will thus need to settle with the second illegitimate child, the self-manifested and quirky breed: Marilyn Manson:
Not too bad, I reckon. A product of mainstream madness, media abortion, social premiscuity and such.
And truly an honest reflection on the necessary imbalances of 'beauty' and 'brash', which one is which? That is not for me to answer.
All I can finaly add is that all those who wish to add a pop-production of Marilyn Monroe on their wall should quite respectfully add a pop-production of Charles Manson to it. It seems only fair to counter balance your wall with the reality of the times.
The speculation of a possible love-child between pop icon Marilyn Monroe and renowned psychopath Charles Manson has aroused some suspicion. Many consider Marilyn Monroe's passing as having been possibly influenced by this tasteless event in history. Yet Charles Manson had at that time had a proficient ability to persuade. No doubt such a child would have been hidden in a basement dungeon chained to a washing machine and fed dog pellets. Where could such a child have been conceived? Well possibly on a country excursion? The famed pop/sex icon might have found herself on a wild adventure and run into the travelling Manson circus. Wam Bam thank you Mam, a disgusting miracle is born!
Later, during the nineties, a young individual came along playing with the idea of Beauty and Beastliness - none other than Marilyn Manson itself.
Although only so much credit can be given to the mainstream deviant.
Charles Monroe is not at all the ingenious creation as the former, and plays rather the filthier role of human indiscretion. The custodian of the slaughter house.
In the attempt to find Charles Monroe I came very close:

This is Charles Monroe.
But not the Charles Monroe who we are looking for; and I apologize for any offence to Charles Monroe from the U.K. May your life be healthy and prosperous!
It is simply a coincidental matter of similar name. So no need to shoot.
It seems that the elusive search for the combo kid 'Charles Monroe' born and breed from milk and stink, Monroe and Manson will quite possibly never be found.
We will thus need to settle with the second illegitimate child, the self-manifested and quirky breed: Marilyn Manson:
Not too bad, I reckon. A product of mainstream madness, media abortion, social premiscuity and such.
And truly an honest reflection on the necessary imbalances of 'beauty' and 'brash', which one is which? That is not for me to answer.
All I can finaly add is that all those who wish to add a pop-production of Marilyn Monroe on their wall should quite respectfully add a pop-production of Charles Manson to it. It seems only fair to counter balance your wall with the reality of the times.
22.4.10
Rou Heidense Tendense / Raw Heathen Tendencies
Nou met die volkaan wat in Ysland sy warm rooi melkies oor die aarde gestroei het word ons herinder van die ou mite van Ys en Vuur.
En dit laat my dink aan 'n geestelikheid wat ouer as meestal mens gekweekde gelowe is. Iets oerouds. Stof en mis, donker groen woude, opgewonde see waters, besonderse mineraal berge.
Voor die gode ontwaak het, voor 'n God geskep was en voor die mens bang gevoel het.
Ek kan beslis nie baie se oor die werklike geskiedenis van die aarde nie maar hier praat ons oor die argitiep van 'n heidense verstand. Nie iemand of een 'persoon' se verstand nie maar die ope, speelagtig en wilde verstand van die naakte wese.
Ons is almal die volkaan, en vaneer ons bars en donker wolke oor die land verskaf wys ons die nodige aggressie wat skep - ook dat ons wilig is om te gee.
Die kaos wat stilte begeer. Die passie speel van vuur en ys. Na die sang van 'n berg wat lank geslaap het en die ewe skielik wakker gaap verander die land weer, die droom stroom oor in transvormasie. Verder dan 'n sneeu kapsel le rustig op die getransvormeerde volkaan en die as-wolke verander in pers horison wolke. Die hemel, eens bloedstroom rooi en senuwee weerligagtig, is nou suiwer medisyne blou. Die land is vrugbaar, sexueel gesond.
Dit is jou verandwoordelikheid en harts' geskenk om terug na 'n visie van gesonde simplisiteid te trek, as dit jou keuse is. Nie te veel daar oor dink nie.
En
Net nie te lank wag nie.
Kreativiteid kan ontplof as dit nie spasie gegee word nie.
Maar as dit ook te lank ingehou word kan jou volkaan in mekaar in sak.
En dit laat my dink aan 'n geestelikheid wat ouer as meestal mens gekweekde gelowe is. Iets oerouds. Stof en mis, donker groen woude, opgewonde see waters, besonderse mineraal berge.
Voor die gode ontwaak het, voor 'n God geskep was en voor die mens bang gevoel het.
Ek kan beslis nie baie se oor die werklike geskiedenis van die aarde nie maar hier praat ons oor die argitiep van 'n heidense verstand. Nie iemand of een 'persoon' se verstand nie maar die ope, speelagtig en wilde verstand van die naakte wese.
Ons is almal die volkaan, en vaneer ons bars en donker wolke oor die land verskaf wys ons die nodige aggressie wat skep - ook dat ons wilig is om te gee.
Die kaos wat stilte begeer. Die passie speel van vuur en ys. Na die sang van 'n berg wat lank geslaap het en die ewe skielik wakker gaap verander die land weer, die droom stroom oor in transvormasie. Verder dan 'n sneeu kapsel le rustig op die getransvormeerde volkaan en die as-wolke verander in pers horison wolke. Die hemel, eens bloedstroom rooi en senuwee weerligagtig, is nou suiwer medisyne blou. Die land is vrugbaar, sexueel gesond.
Dit is jou verandwoordelikheid en harts' geskenk om terug na 'n visie van gesonde simplisiteid te trek, as dit jou keuse is. Nie te veel daar oor dink nie.
En
Net nie te lank wag nie.
Kreativiteid kan ontplof as dit nie spasie gegee word nie.
Maar as dit ook te lank ingehou word kan jou volkaan in mekaar in sak.
1.4.10
tHE gLASS-bEAD gAME - formula for neither this nor that nor not this nor not that nor neither or either or
ACT x - active existing emptiness !
ACT III - energetic luminous beyond !
ACT o - naked mind open heart !
ACT III - energetic luminous beyond !
ACT o - naked mind open heart !
sticking a PO-jab in the heart
thank you, with a drip of joy in my eye, I thank you truly for introducing Moondog to me.
earlier, in yoga, I had a vision of a place where golden sun light radiates entirely throughout the room.
It was the most comfortable lounge retreat, the light was not at all intrusive and overbearing, it lay where it rayed, and left it at that.
I asked the librarian/coffee guy: "who made this place?"
you know what he said back to me?
he said this with a smiling eye:
"Ah! he is the whiskey of the meadow"
that blew my mind.
I wanted to cry, heck I needed to cry.
he continued:
"the melody of the mind, and it is no coincidence that he is the guy at the piano playing that soothing jazz"
15.3.10
hrih namas amitathata
HRIH: OM AH HUM: NAMO AMITA BU: HRIH
I love this painting of Buddha Amitabha, it was done by...? Icannot remember, mmm... oh well here is a link: http://images.google.co.za/imgres?imgurl=http://www.fwbo-news.org/uploaded_images/Amitabha-Aloka-Padmaloka-726969.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.fwbo-news.org/2009/06/amitabha-at-padmaloka-new-painting-by.html&usg=__ZwJlnMhVTzCIr2O4VNVkivRP5vQ=&h=804&w=1600&sz=303&hl=en&start=37&sig2=GHZFcsKNyUIzV-HDJP_1Ag&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=agQpFf-l58dacM:&tbnh=75&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Damitabha%26start%3D21%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26rlz%3D1C1GGLS_enZA366ZA366%26ndsp%3D21%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=L1meS6fCGaDSNJ3trIkF
He he :)
Okay so, sure, I kind of put the above mantra together, but I like playing around, please sue me for my karma, you can have it... the good karma that is... he he >;} Please, no need to worry about me, I will deal with the rest. Thank You.
HRIH (invoking the essential heart of compassionate wisdom)
OM AH HUM (making an offering of Body, Vocation(Speech/Breath), & Mind/Heart - this, in a sense is the same as NAMO - taking refuge and offering your entire mandala)
NAMO AMITA BU (humble and sincere calling for the blissfully aware living light to heed me)
HRIH (return to wisdom mind/heart, inseparable and scorchingly clear - welcome home)
So here it is again, try if you like and if your openess allows:
HRIH: OM AH HUM: NAMO AMITA BU: HRIH
Oh, if you are at all wondering what 'h.n.' represents, hrih namas. There, that is the first part of my name. It is the worldly reflection/manifestation.
I love this painting of Buddha Amitabha, it was done by...? Icannot remember, mmm... oh well here is a link: http://images.google.co.za/imgres?imgurl=http://www.fwbo-news.org/uploaded_images/Amitabha-Aloka-Padmaloka-726969.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.fwbo-news.org/2009/06/amitabha-at-padmaloka-new-painting-by.html&usg=__ZwJlnMhVTzCIr2O4VNVkivRP5vQ=&h=804&w=1600&sz=303&hl=en&start=37&sig2=GHZFcsKNyUIzV-HDJP_1Ag&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=agQpFf-l58dacM:&tbnh=75&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Damitabha%26start%3D21%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26rlz%3D1C1GGLS_enZA366ZA366%26ndsp%3D21%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=L1meS6fCGaDSNJ3trIkF
He he :)
Okay so, sure, I kind of put the above mantra together, but I like playing around, please sue me for my karma, you can have it... the good karma that is... he he >;} Please, no need to worry about me, I will deal with the rest. Thank You.
HRIH (invoking the essential heart of compassionate wisdom)
OM AH HUM (making an offering of Body, Vocation(Speech/Breath), & Mind/Heart - this, in a sense is the same as NAMO - taking refuge and offering your entire mandala)
NAMO AMITA BU (humble and sincere calling for the blissfully aware living light to heed me)
HRIH (return to wisdom mind/heart, inseparable and scorchingly clear - welcome home)
So here it is again, try if you like and if your openess allows:
HRIH: OM AH HUM: NAMO AMITA BU: HRIH
Oh, if you are at all wondering what 'h.n.' represents, hrih namas. There, that is the first part of my name. It is the worldly reflection/manifestation.
4.3.10
LAMBGOAT

Thus far the plot is as follows:
In a fictional metaphorical world where humans are completely foreign concepts, in fact the closest humanoid creature in this world is the Running Sprat - a cross-country marathon Frog type creature that requires itself to run great distances from one pond to the next when it find that the social company at one pond has become petrifying, there are two dominant races that reign over this world: the Lamb Populace (who number the greatest and inhabit the fields and hills); and the Goat Folk (who have scattered numbers and inhabit the mountains and trees).
Indeed there are other species who play minor and major roles in this world; which range from mere 'observing' roles and also 'instigative' roles and so forth. The species vary and draw much from their mythical roots.
The main impetus is between the uncomfortable relationship between the Lamb Populace and the Goat folk.
One might glimpse the symbolic similarity between the Lamb of God and the Goat of Baphomet (or also better known as: Pan, Puck, Cernunnos, Faunus, Pashupati...) when reading the story. Whatever you draw from it is your own matter, but I will admit that it is some of my inspiration.
Already as I think of the story I find myself drawing from Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, Orwell, de Sade, Burroughs, Surrealism, Myth and Mystic writing, maybe a bit of horror ( at one stage I thought of adding some comedy but then thought of the diificulty in writing comedy and the fact that I am not all too comical - besides my self-grandising hope to hold some form of lighthearted-twisted humour - maybe that could work, let's see)
Yeah, so the two families/races of Lamb and Goat do not get along, much due to a long history of contradicting beliefs and cultural differences that have held them separate - it can also go further back to patriarchal power play that initiated with the ancestors.
In the current context, an anomaly occurs, the birth of LambGoat, the first of its kind. LambGoat is a horribly disfigured abomination, and she not at all pleased with her dispossition. Yes, this is not a story of unification between races and the arising of a prodigal beast. LambGoat shows us a darker reality yet does not fall into the depths of depressive meaninglessness, rather illucidates the difficult reality that existence holds.
LambGoat grows up isolated and hidden from both Lamb and Goat, her parents were irresponsible in their permiscuous fetish foolishness and find themselves hesterically distraut, they abort the kid and leave it in the crags near the thorny woods.
LambGoat is frightened, distraught, angry, alone. She seeks revenge on both Lamb and Goat yet seeks liberation from her dispossition. She meets some unlikely friends along the way and also puts an end to the long segregation between Lamb and Goat albeit through unconventional means.
A reclamation of mass suicide!
15.2.10
6.2.10
Of Wands & Pocket Calculators

Of Magic and Measure
Cosmic Circle Scribed
Geometrix Mandala
Compass Compass Compass
Error pleasantly present
Playful fallibility
Wreckless certainty
Nomad Monad
The blind hermit wanders, with
Fuzzy glowing
Green Lantern
Wormwood faerie
Psychotropic Dreary
First Sight
Destination Snap!
Intentions & Incantations
Volcanic Ocean, swells
Skulls & Fresh Fodder
Solemn Stormy Clouds
Logician Magician
formulates Mythonic
gin & tonic
Bubbled Fountain Eyes
Genitals Meet
Vegetarian Meat
The Elements
Greet
At Family Dinner
Sigil Servitor
Prodigy Apprentice
and their pocket calculator
Wand types last equation
Burried in Metal Coffin
To Death
Rest
Last First Breath
AH...
HA! HA! HA!
HUM...
HrihHrihHrih x 3(*)
Head To Toe
Recline & Bestow
Hands Held to Heart's Hum
Goodnight Constellations
Gooddawn...
Swallow Sunset.
10.1.10
METAFISIKA MATHEMYSTIKA - O
GENE-KENO-SIS
Rainbow nudity and a smile on an erect posture, be beyond on the breath of freedom and sit poised above a land of ripe naked sprawling bodies. Embracing an open sky of infinite space, saluting the homeward bound Setting-Sun.
...
METAFISIKA MATHEMYSTIKA - X
PROTO-TYPICAL
the sound of one hand clapping, an applause to those who do not hear but to those who listen intently ~;)
Welcome, I make mistakes, my beliefs are mixed, I am banbu/fanfu/an average-joe, yet this virtual-playground aims to welcome you to share minds, and be at home - which is a bouncy type place - you are invited along this surreal path, to implode and explode and recoil and unfoil in luminous awareness which belongs to no-one/no-thing and yet depends on everyone/everything.
...
the sound of one hand clapping, an applause to those who do not hear but to those who listen intently ~;)
Welcome, I make mistakes, my beliefs are mixed, I am banbu/fanfu/an average-joe, yet this virtual-playground aims to welcome you to share minds, and be at home - which is a bouncy type place - you are invited along this surreal path, to implode and explode and recoil and unfoil in luminous awareness which belongs to no-one/no-thing and yet depends on everyone/everything.
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Niggy Tardust Proclaims thus:
Дорогие братья и сестры Это - моя самая большая честь представить Вам Неизбежность!, Стена звука, который мы создали, помечена с такими надписями на стенах, в которые прохожий искал бы. Однажды в мире, определенном мечтами, осуществляется все, они нашли бы выровненным к самому простому акту разделения, чем мы дорожим. Большинство людей не знает о мире искусства и торговли, где эксплуатация раздевает каждого художника. Каждый лейбл, как апартеид, умножает нас нашим дележом и хлещет нас. Все же энергия, которую они помещают в популяризацию грязи, делает звезду солнечного полушария видимой. Избирательный бюллетень или пуля для Индейца - могавк или кефали - выбор между новыми временами и умирающими днями. И единственный способ выбрать состоит в том, чтобы дезертировать с корабля от старых истин и доверять дельфинам.
Dear brothers and sisters
It is my greatest honour to present you Inevitability!, the wall of a sound which we have created, is marked with such inscriptions on walls in which the passer-by would search. Once in the world certain by dreams, everything is carried out, they would find leveled to the most simple certificate of division, than we value. The majority of people does not know about the world of art and trade where operation undresses each artist. Each label as апартеид, multiplies us our sharing and whips us. Nevertheless energy which they place in popularization of a dirt, does a star of a solar hemisphere visible. The Ballot or a bullet for the Indian - могавк or mullets - a choice between new from time to time and dying days new from time to time. And the unique way to choose consists in deserting from the ship from old trues and to trust dolphins.
Dear brothers and sisters
It is my greatest honour to present you Inevitability!, the wall of a sound which we have created, is marked with such inscriptions on walls in which the passer-by would search. Once in the world certain by dreams, everything is carried out, they would find leveled to the most simple certificate of division, than we value. The majority of people does not know about the world of art and trade where operation undresses each artist. Each label as апартеид, multiplies us our sharing and whips us. Nevertheless energy which they place in popularization of a dirt, does a star of a solar hemisphere visible. The Ballot or a bullet for the Indian - могавк or mullets - a choice between new from time to time and dying days new from time to time. And the unique way to choose consists in deserting from the ship from old trues and to trust dolphins.
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