The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of paraheliotropic trees

Little bits of me, ordered on magnetic tape and summoned forth through transistors and logic gates – could be anywhere — the epiphenomenon divorced — the sensate separate from the substrate — and what is it — records, bones, fossils — the mineralization of the space that’s left behind after even bones are gone — what Jack Horner will climb these Black Hills with rockpick and paintbrush and discover my sleeping thunder-lizards?

Once upon a time dragons walked these lands —

Three years here, now gone. Two loves here, now gone. Affection remains, always I suppose. Then I was a nothing, my head all full of stuffing. Now almost an officer of the court, my office to uphold – went from mid-twenties to late twenties – gained five pounds — no white hair to speak of. I can still dance. Still party like the best of them, when the spirits move me.

I am a Sleeper. I have slept much and often. Always longing to go back to sleep. To hit fast forward and zoom past the boring bits. Not enough fun. Not enough. Left with my minor madnesses, who sit around me like members of the War Cabinet of my Soul. They do not control, but they do advise.

Half a thousand words. Trace of a picture only. What’s a movie worth, I wonder?

I started this on Day 9077. Today is Day 10,057. A thousand days of life. A slice of life. New Yorker neorealism? The last lyrical snarky gasp of youth? This — call it the Final Resting Place of Life-Imprisoned Darlings —

Reaching. Always Reaching. Reaching out to Ever Distant Others. Ever Distant Other Times. The Endlessly Advancing Future. Woman, I commend my spirit to your arms. Kissed by the water and held in your mother’s arms. Never again will I have the experience of being held in the arms of a giant goddess who loves me with all of her being, who will commit to protect my every need for as long as her power lasts — and her power, her great power, the power of gods and creation, has only waned to the extent that my own has waxed and now am the possessor of that same power —

To breath upon the waters, and change the very fabric of the world.

Waves dance, flames leap, winds play, trees whisper, stones witness.

– FELIPE FERNANDEZ ARMESTO, IDEAS THAT CHANGED THE WORLD 18 (2003)

from Wikipedia

Gyrovagues (sometimes Gyrovagi or Gyruvagi) were wandering or itinerant monks without fixed residence or leadership, who relied on charity and the hospitality of others.The term, coming from French, itself from Late Latin gyrovagus: gyro- (circle) + vagus (wandering), is used to refer to a kind of monk, rather than a specific order, and may be pejorative as they are almost universally denounced by Christian writers of the Early Middle Ages. They were denounced as wretched by Benedict of Nursia, who accused them of indulging their passions and cravings. Augustine called them Circumcelliones (circum cellas = those who prowl around the barns) and attributed the selling of fake relics as their innovation. Cassian also mentions a class of monk, which may have been identical, who were reputed to be gluttons who refused to fast at the proper times.Up until the time of Benedict, several attempts had been made by various synods at suppressing and disciplining monks who refused to settle in a cloister. With the establishment of the Rule of St. Benedict in the 8th century, the cenobitic and eremitic forms of monasticism became the accepted form of monasticism within the Christian Church, and the wandering monk phenomenon faded into obscurity.

Legacy
After the eighth century, the term Gyrovagi was sometimes used pejoratively to refer to degenerate monks within a monastery, or to travelling salesmen.

Johnny Appleseed, eternally eighteen inside his wrinkled aging body-suit, his sack of apple cores slung low over his back — walking the hills and valleys of the Great Western Valleys, the long vistas of the Ohio River Valley — and at night, flesh in hand, spreading his seed general over the cold rich quiet land.

Grown men quoting Sun Tzu to each other while they give each other handjobs under the table.

“Now, not just anybody could buy this film.  It cost $5 per roll and had to be sent back to Rochester, New York for development.  By comparison, in 1938 Congress established the first minimum wage at 25 cents per hour.  $5 represented half a week’s work.  But the Farm Security Administration sent out about a dozen photographers with this new film.  Commercial photographer, Samuel Gottscho, and well-to-do amateur, Charles Cushman embraced this new technology, as well.”

http://ussjohnpauljones.org/America_Before_Pearl_Harbor.htm

1. On the Road
2. Dharma Bums
3. The Subterraneans
4. Desolation Angels
5. Tristessa

Moore’s paradox is that it is absurd to make statements like “It’s raining outside but I don’t believe that it is”, even though they are often true (e.g. if the weather forecast is wrong).

The paradox is named after G. E. Moore, who discussed it once in a lecture^{[citation needed]}. It is said that when Ludwig Wittgenstein heard about it that evening, he rushed round to Moore’s lodgings, got him out of bed and insisted that Moore repeat the entire lecture to him. Wittgenstein reportedly considered it Moore’s most important contribution to philosophy, and devoted numerous remarks to it throughout his later writings, which has brought the paradox the attention it might otherwise not have received.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moore’s_paradox

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200305/ryback

August 20, 1997, Philadelphia PA, Mann Music Center (Day 5538)

1. Absolutely Sweet Marie
2. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
3. Tough Mama
4. Shelter From The Storm
5. Silvio
6. Love Minus Zero/No Limit (acoustic)
7. Tangled Up In Blue (acoustic)
8. Cocaine Blues (acoustic)
9. Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again
10. Tears Of Rage
11. Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat(encore)
12. Like A Rolling Stone
13. It Ain’t Me, Babe (acoustic)
14. Alabama Getaway