Friday, June 25, 2010


The Human Habitat in its essence is a parasitical organism (not only physically, which should be readily apparent to even the dullest among us but also and particularly psychically; devouring pleasures and comfort like pigs at a trough, the natural excretion being pain and stupefaction or spiritual deadness) and likely extraterrestrial in its origin, as evidenced by the truly astounding imbalance it displays with its supposed natural environment. Hailing from and returning to distant lands, the human virus destroys and is destroyed without fail, without regard, without prejudice and without distinction. Were the creature not so unflinchingly and banally wicked I believe it would be sympathetic; as it stands the organism in question presents all the features of high comedy: desperate and flailing attempts at attaining meaningless and preposterous ends, longing for light but often unknowingly turning from illumination because it often remains ignorant of it's desire and the key element in any profound absurd over seriousness concerning this condition combined with a gross overestimation of its it's own worth.

Here's a song for you human beings; I insist that you sing along:

Forget your troubles c'mon get happy,
You better chase all your cares away.
Shout hallelujah c'mon get happy
Get ready for the judgement day.

The sun is shinin' c'mon get happy,
The Lord is waitin' to take your hand.
Shout hallelujah c'mon get happy,
We're going to the promise land

We're headin' across the river to
Wash your sins away in the tide.
It's all so peaceful on the other side.

Forget your troubles c'mon get happy,
You better chase all your cares away.
Shout hallelujah c'mon get happy,
Get ready for the judgement day.

Forget your troubles c'mon get happy
Chase ya cares away.
hallelujah get happy,
Before the judgement day.

The sun is shinin' c'mon get happy,
The Lord is waitin' to take your hand.
Shout hallelujah c'mon get happy,
We're gonna be going to the promise land.

Were headin' cross the river,
Wash you're sins away in the tide.
It's quiet and peaceful on the other side.

Forget your troubles get happy,
your cares fly away.
Shout hallelujah get happy
Get ready for your judgement day.

C'mon get happy,
Chase your cares away.
Shout hallelujah c'mon get happy,
Get ready for the judgment day

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Chateau La roche

Rather than giving mundane physical information about this abnormal and quizzical habitat or even my own pilgrimage to said castle I will direct the reader to: to garner such information; excepting of course my personal information which is likely (as it should be) of little interest to you or myself. Instead, my discourse will be concerned with the individual versus the collective and the stunning personal achievements of Sir Harry Andrews (which the website above details, if you're interested in the external facts.) Briefly stated, this man essentially built a castle with his own bare hands (with the help of local boy scouts...) To me, he's a representation of something astounding and miraculous; a solitary man who transubstantiated his intimations of otherworldly purity, his numinous stirrings, his longing for divine order and his transcendence of human ability (which is always incommensurate with what an individual is truly capable of) to create something that is at once both deeply personal and full of macrocosmic meaning. The fact that it's been added onto after his death in the most supramundane fashion imaginable (most likely by someone he loved and trusted. Terrestrial love and trust are blindnesses. They necessarily deaden the senses of perception to survive. Conversely, there is mature, lasting love that requires understanding, empathy and a cooperation of the entire human organism and extends beyond the object based terrestrial love to spill into the possible and more importantly into the impossible) is a prime example of how the en massed personality can destroy anything their hands touch. Previously, this caused me deep and abiding anger, but I can no longer help but feel profound sympathy for the sorrowful and tragic condition of modern man that lays waste to both the created and the possibility for creation.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Louisville, KY

There's a recondite wickedness hidden in the Louisville suburbs, something personal and insidious that encourages sensations of a terrible, abstruse loneliness in this world. I've felt this awareness many times in my travels and I'm reminded of the Jataka canon, my conciousness warping the intent and making it far more sinister (as my mind often will); wondering if I might have been a deer carved up by degenerate hill children who were interested in the anatomy and suffering of a living and dying organism in some dim and distant past? In other words, the Louisville suburbs are incredible and I highly recommend you visiting; after all there are precious few times when profanity is made flesh.

Driving around Downtown Louisville, you begin to understand you begin to understand why Muhammad Ali was so brazen and steeled. It's a hopeless place, marked by absurd opulence that contrasts with heart breaking poverty and bordered by soulless strip malls. It must have been necessary to develop that attitude to combat the brutal ugliness.

I had dinner at Ramsi's Cafe; a tiny outdoor Egyptian restauraunt. I ordered Kusheri: essentially a pasta dish with lentils, rice, browned onions and garlic. Bravo Ramsi's! I washed it down with a Mint Julep (it's fucking Louisville, champ; even Middle Eastern restauraunts have Mint Julep...)

One thing I truly admire about Louisville is the lack of landscaping. Even in the decadent upper class suburbs the midway was overgrown with waist high weeds, giving the entire town a very dangerous and pagan appearance. 64 (a major highway that passes through Louisville) could have been mistaken for a dark, rolling country highway. Three cheers for the City engineers of Louisville for not making the bitter mistake of sanitizing it's appearance.