God, it was horrid. I got up to pee in the middle of the
night. The room started spinning. I though it was my eyes. I blinked them several
times. Round and round went the room. I felt nauseous. I had to lie back down.
I closed my eyes. This is better. I brake out into a cold sweet like I do on a
turbulent airplane ride. I hope I don’t vomit. God this is horrid. I hope it goes
away soon. I hope its goes away period. I wouldn’t want to live like this. What
if it doen’t go away. I still hadn’t
managed to pee but that was only a minor problem at the moment. I got up later.
It happens again. I felt nausous. I lay back down and await daylight. At least
then I thought I’d be able to orientate myself. It is a long night. I manage to
find the aspirn. I spent most of the day in bed. That’s how I know I’m ill; I
stay in bed. The equilibrium is better
but the stomach doesn’t feel so good. I don’t have an appetite and that is good
as I’ve been trying to lose weight. The doctor said twenty pounds and I’ve
almost managed thirty. I’m afraid that
if I eat I might throw-up. This is one way to lose weight, but not a very good
way.
It’s the function of utopianism to provide us with the
distance from the existing state of affairs which allows us to judge what we
are doing in the light of what we could or should do – Andre Gorz – Reclaiming
Work, 1999, p113
After the heat of the day
It’s time venture out again
Back onto the streets again
After dark to the bar for an ale
Its a night of the blues again
I’m sitting here talking to a young woman
‘Oh, you just like big tits and curly hair.’ she says
I didn’t
deny it
‘I strapped on a Stratocruiser
And learned to play from the old guys’
‘I love the blues,’ She says
She was saucy and cute and young
So how did we go from there
To
Cervantes and Lorca
‘She is teaching, now’, she says.
Teaching high school Spanish in Little Rock
She says married sex is the greatest
Been married six weeks now and she cries into her beer
That’s really what the blues is all about
Talking about what you ain’t getting
At a teacher’s convention
She sees
someone she knows
And I debate a fourth dark ale
Oh what the hell.
One more night of the blues
And I ain’t
gettng anything either
I’m sure blackmailers never arrive
in buses – Agatha Christie – The Secret Adversary
The road to hell is paved with economic efficiency
The object of art is to blur our preconceptions
The only way we know that we don’t know something is when we
fail to find it out. The rules for determining what is knowable are not predetermined.
They are a strange couple, mainly because they are not a
couple. There is no familiarity between them. He instructs. She obeys. They
never touch. They rarely converse, mostly he instructs. Perhaps this weekend
was a big mistake. Having a kayak each may not in itself be enough.
We’ve removed the poetry from our technology – more
generally we have removed art from our everyday lives. Technology demands a
technical language just a does engineering and economics. Poetry about computers,
Predator missiles and mobile phones – I’ve not read any. Cornfields steam locomotives and gramaphones maybe but
not recently. Thre is no poetry in a Mac or obtaning one’s GPS coordinates of
hooking up the TV to a satillete.
Illinois is a spring burning over
the husks of last year’s corn – Richard Curry Esler
The constant wind – a roar in my ears (or maybe it’s just a
build up of wax). It sounds like a radio broadcast of a baseball game. Classic
Red Barber or Vince Scully. This is not bad in itself, but some times I try to
listen and catch the score. I can hear the roar of the crowd or maybe its just
static. Sometimes I can actually hear what Vince is saying. And I cheer when
the Dodgers score.
I don’t know what just is, I said.
Truth interests me though. Not general truth if there is any, but the truth of
particular things. Who did what and when – Ross MacDonald – The Drowning Pool
Individuals provide desire; society provides motivation;
culture provides the rationality
Projects over run their own logic and principles
Displaying one's body under a
shining surface and in tight clothes is a means of self-staging that relegates
all who gaze to a role of mere spectatorship. One can be erotically attracted
to such a staged body without necessarily wishing to penetrate it. For since it
reflects light, the shining body offers resistance to the external gaze, and
closes itself off to interpretations that seek deep meaning and the
satisfaction of erotic desire. - Hans Ulrich
Gumrterch – In 1926, 1997 p104
It’s raining. It’s been raining most of the night. It will
probably rain all day today. For the last two days its been cold and gloomy. Today will be the same.
Goals are usually couched in terms of the models they
operationalize, what we cannot do is measure against what might have happened
had things taken a different turn, been conducted according to a different
agenda, have followed an alternative model.
Were there is a well-established
idea or way of looking at things, it is extremely difficult to find an
alternative way even if one is already available. It is not the ideas we do not
have that block our thinking but the ideas that we do have – Edward deBono,
1972
Responsibility is to systems; not to people; love is what we
owe to ourselves and others. But love does not produce money unless we equate
it with sex. Make it fungible
The English equalivant of the Haiku is the Limerick
A great many people think they are
thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices – William James
When a person tries to deceive a dog during play, he
succeeds 47% of the time. When a dog tries to deceive a human, he succeeds 41%
of the time
Ted Bundy changed my life – Ann Rule
p459
‘United We Stand’
And other placards
All over
His truck
Those symbolic yellow ribbons
Across the
Rear window
So many
That he can hardly see out
Not a single pink one
Those are
for uterine cancer
But close
enough
These are about killing the
Bad guys
And cancer is a bad guy
Too
Our economic system
Is
cancerous
“Kill Capitalist Bastards”
That should be a red ribbon
I suppose
Don’t see any on his truck
If one is standing still and
bareheaded, and exhales a deep breath, one can actually hear one’s breath
freezing a moment or two after it has left the mouth… It is rather like that
produced by the movement of sand on a beach when a wave washes up – Robert
Falcon Scott – Voyage of the Discovery vol.1, 1907 p273
In theory it only takes 17% of the American electorate to
elect a majority in the US Senate
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