old piece I'd forgotten about, just uncovered
(from Prinsess Tarta):
The Sea of Energy in Which the Earth Floats
(symphony for piccolo, oboe, viola, cello,
vermicelli & wax lips hollowed out just so)
Fit the First
Found the Flim Flam in my pajamas
snarling up the place with his scenty arpeggios
cracking his knuckles & crinkling his wrinkles
Swilling grape soda & flashing his winkle...
Read More
(from Prinsess Tarta):
The Sea of Energy in Which the Earth Floats
(symphony for piccolo, oboe, viola, cello,
vermicelli & wax lips hollowed out just so)
Fit the First
Found the Flim Flam in my pajamas
snarling up the place with his scenty arpeggios
cracking his knuckles & crinkling his wrinkles
Swilling grape soda & flashing his winkle...
Read More
tororo:
came up with this today & am not sure what to make of it:
THE WATCHMEN: a PERIOD PIECE
A lot of us had to admit, there was a lot of sense in what they said.
They put the case forward very reasonably & succintly:
America, they said, You're sick, you're broken.
You're dying.
We're the strongest nation on the planet, we said. We're strong,...
Read More
THE WATCHMEN: a PERIOD PIECE
A lot of us had to admit, there was a lot of sense in what they said.
They put the case forward very reasonably & succintly:
America, they said, You're sick, you're broken.
You're dying.
We're the strongest nation on the planet, we said. We're strong,...
Read More
tororo:
You'd put the case forward very reasonably & succintly.
gosh. hundreds killed in Iraq yesterday.
I missed it on t.v.
maybe I should be taping it?
I missed it on t.v.
maybe I should be taping it?
for the most part, I've been getting my news on the current conflict (or wholesale slaughter, whatever) from NPR & newspaper articles I've downloaded to my Palm Pilot, altho yesterday I happened to catch a few minutes on FoxNews of one of Donald Rumsfeld's Pentagon briefings--several minutes into it he paused for a few minutes to unhinge his jaw & swallow, whole, a frantically squealling...
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VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
alabasterjones:
Ive had some kimchi ramen that was pretty good stuff.
Sucks about the substandard handjob...
Sucks about the substandard handjob...
tororo:
"The time has come", the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes - and ships - and sealing wax -
Of cabbages - and kings -
And why the sea is boiling hot -
And whether pigs have wings."
Whatever philosophical authority the Walrus may have, I'll beg to differ.
Of course I think that *sealing wax* is a subject that can't be avoided in the present circumstances. But I'm also convinced that it's of - at least - equal consequence that your next issues - dear ratsonjulia - deal with the following topics:
* the colourful and crowded Howrah railroad station, in Calcutta*;
*Gustav Klimt*;
*a nuptial chamber*;
*the well-known penchant the Russian literates indulge in, for quoting -as soon as the oportunity is given to them- illustrious Russian writers, declaiming in the most musical manner the polysyllabic vocables of their native language*;
*a building kept sealed up since 1933*;
*a ghost-writer who uses to itinerate on a motorcycle with a side-car*;
*a thin cotton blouse* and
*a tooth merchant*.
With the sealing wax, it counts nine themes (the same number you did suggest to me, by the way... why did I write "seven"?)... how inspiring do you find them?
To talk of many things:
Of shoes - and ships - and sealing wax -
Of cabbages - and kings -
And why the sea is boiling hot -
And whether pigs have wings."
Whatever philosophical authority the Walrus may have, I'll beg to differ.
Of course I think that *sealing wax* is a subject that can't be avoided in the present circumstances. But I'm also convinced that it's of - at least - equal consequence that your next issues - dear ratsonjulia - deal with the following topics:
* the colourful and crowded Howrah railroad station, in Calcutta*;
*Gustav Klimt*;
*a nuptial chamber*;
*the well-known penchant the Russian literates indulge in, for quoting -as soon as the oportunity is given to them- illustrious Russian writers, declaiming in the most musical manner the polysyllabic vocables of their native language*;
*a building kept sealed up since 1933*;
*a ghost-writer who uses to itinerate on a motorcycle with a side-car*;
*a thin cotton blouse* and
*a tooth merchant*.
With the sealing wax, it counts nine themes (the same number you did suggest to me, by the way... why did I write "seven"?)... how inspiring do you find them?
I found the following on the generally interesting memepool (memepool.com) & pretty much had to change my boxers after each paragraph--it's from a section of a British MP's website (for Teens!) &, as memepool notes, it's either clueless, or masterful irony--either way....
Teens!
We know that you're too busy fighting off your biological urges and being l33t hax0rs[I have no idea what the fuck this...
Read More
Teens!
We know that you're too busy fighting off your biological urges and being l33t hax0rs[I have no idea what the fuck this...
Read More
tororo:
My bids are on irony... altough... these islanders are so strange sometimes...
I've finally put a flag decal on my car.
it's not an American flag--not because I don't love my country, I do (altho I'm embarassed & ashamed by much that she's done--not just in the past few weeks or years, but pretty much since day One--Trail of Tears, anyone?) but the stars&stripes has been slathered over just about every flat surface, mattress sale ad, t-shirt...
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it's not an American flag--not because I don't love my country, I do (altho I'm embarassed & ashamed by much that she's done--not just in the past few weeks or years, but pretty much since day One--Trail of Tears, anyone?) but the stars&stripes has been slathered over just about every flat surface, mattress sale ad, t-shirt...
Read More
it's April Fools day.
I have no particular plans to celebrate (beyond calling up my sister, who was working in a different part of the prison, & asking if her refrigerator was running. she politely asked if I would be so kind as to fuck off), but last night it was thrust upon me in kind of a wierd way.
anyway, a couple of weeks...
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I have no particular plans to celebrate (beyond calling up my sister, who was working in a different part of the prison, & asking if her refrigerator was running. she politely asked if I would be so kind as to fuck off), but last night it was thrust upon me in kind of a wierd way.
anyway, a couple of weeks...
Read More
tororo:
Pretty damn good allegory.
who am I?
not much, ma'am.
jes' a man, all arm up until the teeth....
not much, ma'am.
jes' a man, all arm up until the teeth....
tororo:
Pleasepleaseplease tell us if this pickup line has been working (as soon as you'll have put it to test, of course)
wated:
"Lowest common denominator"
Nice one dude!
Nice one dude!
many thanks to the always-groovy Tororo for a very illuminating passage & project--what follows is a (very lightly edited)machine-produced translation:
My God, do the men die them not well of eux - mesmes, my dear Reader, without
it is necessary to turn down the corner of the War, and that they enter itself
slaughter one another so barbarically? What spectacle to see a country covered...
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My God, do the men die them not well of eux - mesmes, my dear Reader, without
it is necessary to turn down the corner of the War, and that they enter itself
slaughter one another so barbarically? What spectacle to see a country covered...
Read More
tororo:
How delighted i was (my dear Reader) with our hunchback friend's last elucubration! (the hunchback in "The Name of the Rose", indeed... never would have imagined I would someday meet him on the net!)
When they gave Antonin Artaud a microphone, he used to eruct incantations that were not without similitudes with this one... (Artaud was even once asked by the national radio channel, following a suggestion by Andr Malraux -it was in the '50s- to produce a radio show, that was immediately cancelled and whose tapes remained locked in the archives for, like, 20 years...)
I'm currently attempting to read this text in an imitation of Artaud's croaking voice... hard task, but worth the try!
I can't help feeling some pity for GWB. He is forced to wear shoes that are so obviously too big for him, he's pathetic. I try and save my hatred for cunning bastards like Richard Perle and some others.. as Rupert Murdoch...
Edited for having mistaken Richard Perle with Ronald McDonald
[Edited on Mar 28, 2003]
When they gave Antonin Artaud a microphone, he used to eruct incantations that were not without similitudes with this one... (Artaud was even once asked by the national radio channel, following a suggestion by Andr Malraux -it was in the '50s- to produce a radio show, that was immediately cancelled and whose tapes remained locked in the archives for, like, 20 years...)
I'm currently attempting to read this text in an imitation of Artaud's croaking voice... hard task, but worth the try!
I can't help feeling some pity for GWB. He is forced to wear shoes that are so obviously too big for him, he's pathetic. I try and save my hatred for cunning bastards like Richard Perle and some others.. as Rupert Murdoch...
Edited for having mistaken Richard Perle with Ronald McDonald
[Edited on Mar 28, 2003]
tororo:
once groovy...
always groovy...
always groovy...
some uncomfortable thoughts that might highlight the often hopeless muddlement of me:
1) I have an almost pathological hatred of Bush--why I dislike & distrust him is understandable to me--but hatred is something else. I don't hate people, I hate concepts & ideas & motivations--abstract things (many, if not all, present in me), but there is something about him, & to a somewhat lesser extent...
Read More
1) I have an almost pathological hatred of Bush--why I dislike & distrust him is understandable to me--but hatred is something else. I don't hate people, I hate concepts & ideas & motivations--abstract things (many, if not all, present in me), but there is something about him, & to a somewhat lesser extent...
Read More
tororo:
Graveyard shift, again?
An idea crossed my mind while reading your post: what kind of stuff could come out ot this translating device of yours, if it was feeded with XVIth century french, that's sometimes orthographed very differently from now?
Let's have a test.
Mon Dieu, les hommes meurent-ils pas bien d'eux-mesmes, mon cher Lecteur, sans qu'il faille corner la Guerre, et qu'ils s'entre-massacrent les uns les autres ainsi barbarement ? Quel spectacle de voir une campagne couverte d'hommes tous armez jusqu'aux dents, en peu d'heures s'entre-coupper la gorge, faire bouillonner des torrens de sang humain et dans la campagne rase eslever des montagnes de corps morts, et jetter tout cela la voirie et dans le ventre de loups et de bestes sauvages ?
Cependant c'est tous les jours qu'on void les gens acharnez ceste tuerie, et sans cela le monde ne seroit pas monde : il fallut, pour monter au thrne de l'Empire, que Cesar marcht sur le ventre d'un million et cent mille personnes de pauvres gens escrasez la Guerre, dont le sang estoit capable d'abysmer la ville de Rome. Cruelle boucherie !
Or quand j'auray bien cri, certes il n'en sera autre chose, et tant que le monde sera monde, je le vois bien, il y faut de la Guerre, et cela est un: faire le faut.
Ce fut sans doute un Dmon (mon cher Lecteur) et un des plus mal-faisans, celuy qui inspira ce mal-heureux homme qui le premier inventa l'Artillerie, et le moyen de tuer tout un peuple d'un seul coup de tonnerre.
Helas ! la mort venoit-elle pas assez vite nous couper la gorge trestous,
sans luy donner des ailes, empennant les sagettes homicides, afin qu'elle volt pour nous outrepercer les curs ?
Que diroit icy Pline, qui fit jadis si grand vacarme, qui jetta tant et tant de si haut cris, maudissant celuy qui avoit attach des plumes aux dards des javelots, pour redoubler la course de ces pointes meurtrieres ?
Ah Dieu, en combien de faons la felonnie barbare des hommes tres-cruels,
a-t-elle faonn le fer pour massacrer les hommes ?
Espieux, halebardes, lances, piques, espes, espadons, espes deux mains, cimeterres, espes de combat, espes de service, malchus, et coutelas, d'estoc, et de fendant; estramassons horribles, de trempe de Damas coupant l'acier et les charrettes ferres; dagues, poignards, stillets, demy-espes, et dix mille faons de cousteaux homicides, haches et couperets, braquemarts tous sanglants.
Las ! tout cela n'est rien qu'un leger apprentissage de la niaise antiquit, car maintenant on va bien plus vite aux meurtres, et au carnage ; le feu du Ciel tant effroyable, et les quarreaux des nues et de Dieu ne sont plus rien, si vous contez les bastons feu qui ravagent le monde :
pistolets simples et doubles, pistoles, carabines, arquebuses, mousquets gros et petits, petards, pots et grenades, fauconneaux, pieces de campagne, coulevrines, dragons, berches, petriers, canons gros et petits (renforcez, redoublez, endiablez vray dire), artillerie de fonte, de bois, de terre, de mer, bouches denfer qui vomissent du souphre, des cailloux, des boules de fer, des chaines, des foudres, des morts, des enfers, bouleversant les villes, saccageant les peuples, renversant les armes entieres, et d'un seul coup donnant plusieurs morts, et d'une verte campagne faisant une mer rouge, et un cimetiere couvert d'os et de corps vifs et morts tout ensemble, representant sur terre les bourreleries d'Enfer.
Mon Dieu, quel march d'hommes, et de la vie des hommes !
Amy lecteur, j'aimerois mieux t'aider enclouer toute l'artillerie du monde, et en esteindre la memoire que de t'apprendre en parler.
Mais puisque cela ne se peut, au moins je te veux aider quand il les faudra maudire, et les detester afin que tu saches par quel bout il faut t'y prendre, et en quels termes il en faudra parler.
Etienne Binet Essay des merveilles de nature, et plus nobles artifices , 1621
Edited for punctuation!
[Edited on Mar 25, 2003]
[Edited on Mar 25, 2003]
An idea crossed my mind while reading your post: what kind of stuff could come out ot this translating device of yours, if it was feeded with XVIth century french, that's sometimes orthographed very differently from now?
Let's have a test.
Mon Dieu, les hommes meurent-ils pas bien d'eux-mesmes, mon cher Lecteur, sans qu'il faille corner la Guerre, et qu'ils s'entre-massacrent les uns les autres ainsi barbarement ? Quel spectacle de voir une campagne couverte d'hommes tous armez jusqu'aux dents, en peu d'heures s'entre-coupper la gorge, faire bouillonner des torrens de sang humain et dans la campagne rase eslever des montagnes de corps morts, et jetter tout cela la voirie et dans le ventre de loups et de bestes sauvages ?
Cependant c'est tous les jours qu'on void les gens acharnez ceste tuerie, et sans cela le monde ne seroit pas monde : il fallut, pour monter au thrne de l'Empire, que Cesar marcht sur le ventre d'un million et cent mille personnes de pauvres gens escrasez la Guerre, dont le sang estoit capable d'abysmer la ville de Rome. Cruelle boucherie !
Or quand j'auray bien cri, certes il n'en sera autre chose, et tant que le monde sera monde, je le vois bien, il y faut de la Guerre, et cela est un: faire le faut.
Ce fut sans doute un Dmon (mon cher Lecteur) et un des plus mal-faisans, celuy qui inspira ce mal-heureux homme qui le premier inventa l'Artillerie, et le moyen de tuer tout un peuple d'un seul coup de tonnerre.
Helas ! la mort venoit-elle pas assez vite nous couper la gorge trestous,
sans luy donner des ailes, empennant les sagettes homicides, afin qu'elle volt pour nous outrepercer les curs ?
Que diroit icy Pline, qui fit jadis si grand vacarme, qui jetta tant et tant de si haut cris, maudissant celuy qui avoit attach des plumes aux dards des javelots, pour redoubler la course de ces pointes meurtrieres ?
Ah Dieu, en combien de faons la felonnie barbare des hommes tres-cruels,
a-t-elle faonn le fer pour massacrer les hommes ?
Espieux, halebardes, lances, piques, espes, espadons, espes deux mains, cimeterres, espes de combat, espes de service, malchus, et coutelas, d'estoc, et de fendant; estramassons horribles, de trempe de Damas coupant l'acier et les charrettes ferres; dagues, poignards, stillets, demy-espes, et dix mille faons de cousteaux homicides, haches et couperets, braquemarts tous sanglants.
Las ! tout cela n'est rien qu'un leger apprentissage de la niaise antiquit, car maintenant on va bien plus vite aux meurtres, et au carnage ; le feu du Ciel tant effroyable, et les quarreaux des nues et de Dieu ne sont plus rien, si vous contez les bastons feu qui ravagent le monde :
pistolets simples et doubles, pistoles, carabines, arquebuses, mousquets gros et petits, petards, pots et grenades, fauconneaux, pieces de campagne, coulevrines, dragons, berches, petriers, canons gros et petits (renforcez, redoublez, endiablez vray dire), artillerie de fonte, de bois, de terre, de mer, bouches denfer qui vomissent du souphre, des cailloux, des boules de fer, des chaines, des foudres, des morts, des enfers, bouleversant les villes, saccageant les peuples, renversant les armes entieres, et d'un seul coup donnant plusieurs morts, et d'une verte campagne faisant une mer rouge, et un cimetiere couvert d'os et de corps vifs et morts tout ensemble, representant sur terre les bourreleries d'Enfer.
Mon Dieu, quel march d'hommes, et de la vie des hommes !
Amy lecteur, j'aimerois mieux t'aider enclouer toute l'artillerie du monde, et en esteindre la memoire que de t'apprendre en parler.
Mais puisque cela ne se peut, au moins je te veux aider quand il les faudra maudire, et les detester afin que tu saches par quel bout il faut t'y prendre, et en quels termes il en faudra parler.
Etienne Binet Essay des merveilles de nature, et plus nobles artifices , 1621
Edited for punctuation!
[Edited on Mar 25, 2003]
[Edited on Mar 25, 2003]