Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Words. More Words.
music: Bill Laswell, City of Light
colors: ROYGBIV.
thoughts: For an assignment due Friday, I'm supposed to share some poems and songs. Here's some words I read for sharing, some which are kind of poem-like.
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (Excerpt, from Part 2, Chapter 1)
How did it come?
For a minute the opening balanced
from one side to the other.
Like a walk or a march.
Like God strutting in the night.
The outside of her was suddenly froze
and only that first part of the music
was hot inside her heart.
She could not even hear what sounded after,
but she sat there waiting and froze,
with her fists tight.
After a while
the music came again, harder and loud.
It didn't have anything to do with
God.
This was her, Mick Kelly,
walking in the daytime
and by herself at night.
In the hot sun
and in the dark
with all the plans and feelings.
This music was her
--the real plain her.
(I still am in love with Carson McCullers.)
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (XLI - XLIV)
For "Is" and Is-not" though with Rule
and Line
And "Up-and-Down" without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but -- Wine.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel
Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'tas -- the
Grape!
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sections confute:
The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the
Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanged
Sword.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with
me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub
coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much
of Thee.
For in and out, above, about below,
"Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show
Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the
Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come
and go.
From "The Magical Rainbow Man and the Journey of Love", by Shahastra
"I am the Queen of the Land of Red.
Red is the color of strength," she said.
"When there is love in your heart, let it be strong.
And let it keep growing all day long."
"I am the Goddess of the Orange land here.
Orange gives you energy when you fear.
Let not your heart be afraid to give,
For it's only with giving you learn to live."
"I am the Fairy of this gleaming Yellow Land.
Yellow brightens your mind to understand.
When you understand how bright love is
Your mind will open in joy and bliss."
"I am the Maiden of the Land of Green.
Green gives harmony to every living being.
It soothes the heart so deep inside
And gives you a loving smile so wide."
"I am the Deva of the Land of Blue.
Blue is a peaceful color flowing through.
When you're full of peace you love all things
And know what joy and beauty brings."
"I am the Angel of the Land of Indigo.
Indigo gives wisdom so you may know
To hear your inner voice that tells you all,
To use your inner light to love your world."
"I am the Spirit of this Violet Land bright
Violet opens your soul to see the Light
And when you open to the Cosmic Light of Love
Everything is One both below and above."
Excerpts from the "Medium is the Massage", by Marshall McLuhan
#1
All media work us over completely. They are so pervasive in their personal, political, economic, aesthetic, psychological, moral, ethical, and social consequences that they leave no part of us untouched, unaffected, unaltered. The medium is the massage. Any understanding of social and cultural change is impossible without a knowledge of the way media work as environments.
All
media
are
extensions
of
some
human
faculty--
psychic
or
physical.
The wheel...
is an extension of the foot.
The book...
is an extension of the eye.
Clothing...
an extension of the skin.
Electric circuitry,
an extension of
the
central
nervous
system.
Media, by altering the environment, evoke in us unique ratios of sense perceptions.
The extension of any one sense alters the way we think and act -- the way we perceive
the world.
When
these
ratios
change,
men change.
#2
Until writing was invented, man lived in acoustic space: boundless, directionless,
horizonless, in the dark of the mind, in the world of emotion, by primordial intuition, by terror. Speech is a social chart of this bog.
The goose quill put an end to talk. It abolished mystery; it gave architecture and towns; it brought roads and armies, bureaucracy. It was the basic metaphor with which the cycle of civilization began, the step from the dark into the light of the mind.
The hand that filled the parchment page built a city.
Further thoughts:
In the beginning was the Word (from John 1:1). Really, that verse is dee-eee-ee-eeep! What the hell does it mean? Taken with McLuhan's info above, we have an engine -- perhaps not ready to drop into a Ford F-150 Custom Deluxe and go racing down the strip just yet, but an engine nonetheless.
Another thing to study up on. Where does power come from? What is the nature of power?
Here's a short version of a good thing to read (The Power of the Powerless) by Vaclav Havel, and here's another based off of it, by a member of the Anglo-Catholic clergy.
pax hominibus,
joel
colors: ROYGBIV.
thoughts: For an assignment due Friday, I'm supposed to share some poems and songs. Here's some words I read for sharing, some which are kind of poem-like.
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (Excerpt, from Part 2, Chapter 1)
How did it come?
For a minute the opening balanced
from one side to the other.
Like a walk or a march.
Like God strutting in the night.
The outside of her was suddenly froze
and only that first part of the music
was hot inside her heart.
She could not even hear what sounded after,
but she sat there waiting and froze,
with her fists tight.
After a while
the music came again, harder and loud.
It didn't have anything to do with
God.
This was her, Mick Kelly,
walking in the daytime
and by herself at night.
In the hot sun
and in the dark
with all the plans and feelings.
This music was her
--the real plain her.
(I still am in love with Carson McCullers.)
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (XLI - XLIV)
For "Is" and Is-not" though with Rule
and Line
And "Up-and-Down" without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but -- Wine.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel
Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'tas -- the
Grape!
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sections confute:
The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the
Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanged
Sword.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with
me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub
coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much
of Thee.
For in and out, above, about below,
"Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show
Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the
Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come
and go.
From "The Magical Rainbow Man and the Journey of Love", by Shahastra
"I am the Queen of the Land of Red.
Red is the color of strength," she said.
"When there is love in your heart, let it be strong.
And let it keep growing all day long."
"I am the Goddess of the Orange land here.
Orange gives you energy when you fear.
Let not your heart be afraid to give,
For it's only with giving you learn to live."
"I am the Fairy of this gleaming Yellow Land.
Yellow brightens your mind to understand.
When you understand how bright love is
Your mind will open in joy and bliss."
"I am the Maiden of the Land of Green.
Green gives harmony to every living being.
It soothes the heart so deep inside
And gives you a loving smile so wide."
"I am the Deva of the Land of Blue.
Blue is a peaceful color flowing through.
When you're full of peace you love all things
And know what joy and beauty brings."
"I am the Angel of the Land of Indigo.
Indigo gives wisdom so you may know
To hear your inner voice that tells you all,
To use your inner light to love your world."
"I am the Spirit of this Violet Land bright
Violet opens your soul to see the Light
And when you open to the Cosmic Light of Love
Everything is One both below and above."
Excerpts from the "Medium is the Massage", by Marshall McLuhan
#1
All media work us over completely. They are so pervasive in their personal, political, economic, aesthetic, psychological, moral, ethical, and social consequences that they leave no part of us untouched, unaffected, unaltered. The medium is the massage. Any understanding of social and cultural change is impossible without a knowledge of the way media work as environments.
All
media
are
extensions
of
some
human
faculty--
psychic
or
physical.
The wheel...
is an extension of the foot.
The book...
is an extension of the eye.
Clothing...
an extension of the skin.
Electric circuitry,
an extension of
the
central
nervous
system.
Media, by altering the environment, evoke in us unique ratios of sense perceptions.
The extension of any one sense alters the way we think and act -- the way we perceive
the world.
When
these
ratios
change,
men change.
#2
Until writing was invented, man lived in acoustic space: boundless, directionless,
horizonless, in the dark of the mind, in the world of emotion, by primordial intuition, by terror. Speech is a social chart of this bog.
The goose quill put an end to talk. It abolished mystery; it gave architecture and towns; it brought roads and armies, bureaucracy. It was the basic metaphor with which the cycle of civilization began, the step from the dark into the light of the mind.
The hand that filled the parchment page built a city.
Further thoughts:
In the beginning was the Word (from John 1:1). Really, that verse is dee-eee-ee-eeep! What the hell does it mean? Taken with McLuhan's info above, we have an engine -- perhaps not ready to drop into a Ford F-150 Custom Deluxe and go racing down the strip just yet, but an engine nonetheless.
Another thing to study up on. Where does power come from? What is the nature of power?
Here's a short version of a good thing to read (The Power of the Powerless) by Vaclav Havel, and here's another based off of it, by a member of the Anglo-Catholic clergy.
pax hominibus,
joel
