She with the laugh that frightens me


Invited
by the minister
taken in as his own
across town from her squat

wrote a book
on some people

made this thing
that you can sit on
and take with you anywhere
for others to try

met with others
who brought some stuff
and made a rag of it

it was thrown
offered
taken
felt
and read

i saw it with my own eyes
my friend told me so
i swear

what a remarkable co-animator
i hardly knew

Heat in my toes
there is nothing to time but waiting
and expression in death

feverish evenings
in humour of friends
they fail
at every turn
for you do not dare to steer
away

nights of closeness
they leave you behind
empty and far
from your passion

they take away the soul flesh
from those that you feel
so close and
so warm

the night is soft
but takes such strength
to fight it
on its turf

day in
day out

it takes and
takes
and takes

unforgiving
it takes your wife
it takes your sight
it takes
the smell
of she who is in your sleep


you feel as though
as though you've tried
so hard to keep
away

you fail and fail
from trying
not to to give

you are
so
nothing can help
it is she is she it is
they stand and sit beside you
they ask for pain and you give your's
taunting away from fear
of hurting

song2beachboys

there really is only one way to where
she is right over there

So move on over to where she stares
bopping to the stage back there

do a ditty do it over there
be so freaky all over there
be so freaky all in the air
do a ditty and she'll be there

run around string along
she'll find a place too bare.

song1

I grow very slowly
I bring myself to light
every morning
I stand very tall
and fall afternoon
time
[]
i pick myself up
at night
and i tell whoever speaks to me quite silently
fuck off
fuck off
fuck off

Suburban girl

suburban girl -
the suburban girl
she says so little
and speaks so much,
she walks and walks
so fast and so steady
i can't keep up

suburban girl -
you're so pretty,
i want to walk beside you
but you can't tell
i'm suffering
lagging behind you
or fumbling before you
you hold your smoke to your lips
and sing silently a song of prose without words
to call your own

suburban girl
you have no sex
you are so clean
and yet i cannot see you past the smoke

a man is a man is a man

A man is a man who doesn't say what he thinks
he says what he thinks by moving his body
body language.
a man who thinks is a man
who says what he thinks with his lips.

There's nothing i can say
She demands and i offer.
There are no limits
there is no meaning in existence and being of self or other
either lying or standing
her breath is my my command
my is is her ought and
there is nothing but her there and ought
that predicts my doing
from here and there on forth
i am her's
forever and forth
she is my is
and am her to be
there is no future
and there is no present
until she forgoes
all time
and being
into space

i love her
i am in love with her
she will never never know
because she is
my friend

Talk is only a pretext for other, subtler forms of communication. When the latter are inoperative speech becomes dead. When two people are intent upon communication with one another it doesn't matter in the least how bewildering the talk becomes. People who insist upon clarity and logic often fail in making themselves understood. They are always searching for a more perfect transmitter, deluded by the supposition that the mind is the only instrument for the exchange of thought. When one really begins to talk, one delivers himself. Words are thrown about recklessly, not counted like pennies. One doesn't care about grammatical or factual errors, contradictions, lies and so on. One talks. If you are talking to some one who knows how to listen he understands perfectly, even though the words make no sense. When this kind of talk gets underway, a marriage takes places, no matter whether you are talking to a man or a woman. Men talking with other men have as much need of this sort of marriage as women talking with other women have. Married couples seldom enjoy this kind of talk, for reasons which are only too obvious.
Talk, real talk, it seems to me, is one of the most expressive manifestations of man's hunger for unlimited marriage. Sensitive people, people who feel, want to unite in some deeper, subtler, more durable fashion than is permitted by custom and convention. I mean in ways beyond the dream of social and political Utopists. The brotherhood of man, should it ever come about, is only the kindergartner stage in the drama of human relationships. When man begins to permit himself full expression, when he can express himself without fear of ridicule, ostracism or persecution, the first thing he will do will be to pour out his love. In the story of human love we are still at the first chapter. Even there, even in the realm of the purely personal, it is a pretty shoddy account. Have we more than a dozen heroes and heroines of love to hold up as examples?I doubt if we have even as many great lovers as we have illustrious saints. We have scholars galore, and kings and emperors, and statesmen and military leaders, and artists in profusion, and inventors, discoverers, explorers - but where are the great lovers?
[...]
{...} knowledge divorced from actions leads to sterility.
- henry miller, sexus, 404-405
______________________
Well, i'm not sure.. not anymore, not right now. Well, right now, it can be argued that a critic is not an artist, though it can be.
Conversation is an art like any other.
Conversation is an art... like any other.
It's elements as much a tool as the italics button on your word processor.
But i ought not to stress this point any further.
What I mean to say is that appreciating the criticism of conversation for it's recognising its subject is not reason to think ourselves conversationiscians (artists of conversation), or even, for that matter, conversation connoisseurs. Don't forget.

But a beautiful thing it is.. and a beautiful things they are those who converse.

Abstract

This essay is an investigation into the nature of actorhood in world politics. My narrative is as follows. World politics is more than a mere abstraction. It is materially consequential insofar as it is ordered within the framework of a second order society. Second order social relations operate through institutions that reflect the co-constitutive nature of intra- and inter-actor development. This shared development is relevant insofar as it a precondition to conceptualising international relations, of which diplomacy plays a key role, as characterised by ideological organisation. Ideologically organised actors participate officially in world affairs, and influence politics through participation in negotiating the terms of second order society, but by this very virtue nonetheless maintain (rather than contest) an oligarchically managed (rather than "natural") world order.

whoarethepeople

Who are the people we talk to?
you are not a person people talk to
you talk to some people,
maybe even one

or two
but you don't even do that,

because you are not a person people talk to
you are not a person people talk to

because you do not talk to people
there is no mystery in any of this
but i can understand if you do not remember
for you are
after all
not someone people talk to

DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG
DPG

the beautifull beasts

The great beautiful beast in the rink

This is the man you see whose strength is boundless
Is it he for whom, you notice, effortless power lifts desire

Others we wish to hold for their struggle and will
But we know, or so we think, they are preoccupied by not much else

And while the beast's eye's are raging and furious, or empty and silent
We don't know why.

What's on his mind?

(Those who can do best betray us everyday)

How beautiful are they
so much more than I who finds every way to make the business of others
a business of mine. hopping about never seeing how great a beast I may be
at my own game.

Immigroid Immigroid Immigroid, Dear Immigroid
what is the matter with you
Immigroid.

Do you not see your luck
your cleanliness now and freedom

the opportunities are endless in this land of plenty
and your charm has its price too

The tale of your life as just begun
and the lights of glory are at your footsteps
just look down and see how far you've come.

Forget what you knew
you won't be needing it here

In the land of plenty
excess
and fuck

mush and mud everywhere under your eyelids
you'll work like you've never done before
or you'll fester in hell

But worry not this poem is over
Immigroid Immigroid Immigroid
the liquid angels are looking down on you, or worse,
watching over you.

optimism

It's much harder to be the man with the right answer when you're surrounded by misguided optimists. When you're someone like me and you face opposition, you fight, in theory at least, easy. But when you're faced with good intentions and a mood of betterment, you're hard pressed to make so much noise when you have nothing to say of the sort resembling a "solution". Your green is their brown, and your brown is their rainbow.

What annoys you is a sense that bad arrangements can be made to work better, if not perfectly. How perfect is your neighbour's fantasy? How perfect is the fantasy of a man so foreign that the only way you both recognise each other is through a common understanding you have to learn and he has to communicate?

chrismas in a cold land

chrismas in a cold land

here it is always cold at this time of year
cold and alone lonely and empty
my self fills up as it does
for i am lonelyness

the fear that fills me
that which no one can save me from
that which i have been meant to either face
or flee

it is now and it is it

here is my me
i cannot run from it, for it is me
i am it
and we are bound for the tenebres on the high sea of human tears

The birth of men

Do you find it hard to be who you are? Indeed, you do. That is because you are no one.

I can't manage to be who I am when I am with those with whom I want to be who I am. I am gross. I am male, but feeble. The woman I say I want is no one, she is tiny, puny. She is nothing. A man's recourse to manliness, a rather pleasant prop to triumphant imperial masturbation. Something to deplore for her lack of gut and extroversion. A shame she doesn't express herself. And then the talk pretty much wanes. What else is there to discuss. Us men have a hard time between being something among each other and touching each other, too sharp and too dirty.

Too bad, because, really, I am weak and that is all that I can say to these men. Such a negative expression. An oxymoronic energy. But why? These men inspire me. They make me laugh when I see them behave, they are quirky, odd. One can't make the simplest decision, the other is like an old man, a timid patriarch, the other is a child, the other is without worthy purpose, or so is his trauma, cute, and the last is your nemesis. If you tell them you love them their magic is lost. They disintegrate. Well, maybe not. Who knows. In any case, there is much to prove to them.

With women at least you can boast. You can talk and deplore, you can cry and summon, you can look in the air and feel that a myriade of disciples are behind you. Bored sometimes, but you rest assured that they can and do make use of their multitasking magic to escape somewhere far away where they can make of you whoever they wish. They neither judge nor not judge. They are nice. They like to have you around and that make you feel just fine. They are not men.

In any case, men are at issue here, so let's not detract. The boys are good. You want to be like some of them. You want to be dumb. You want to be cute. You want to have that body, you want not to know you have that body. You want that dick and you want it limp. You want it too bored by the blandness of female sexuality, so beyond erection, so in need for the hardest most laboriously masterful mistress to even consider penetration. Well not necessarily. But you want that flirt. You want to pretend not to know. You want to be in control. You want to be in control. You must know. You must be able to concentrate. To be inspired, yet calculated, sensitive to those around you, the salvation of the lost and the meaning of being for the directed. You want skills you want to want to not want and want what you are and more, and more. You want to see. You want to be able to reach the window, so oddly high.

I'm not sure that's it though. I mean, you can be perfectly comfortable around those whom you envy for whatever reason, so long as you are alone with them. So why all the fuss? Why can't you be who you are with these men? I suppose that the converse is implied to be otherwise, though that is in fact not true. Right you are: you may not be so small beside a woman, but you certainly are not who you are. In fact, it may very well be worse. For if with men you are afraid to compromise your identity, with women you compromise yourself before having a clue who you are, that is, you compromise the wrong identity, the actor's identity. With men you can't fake it, with women you are merely fake. Are you really anyone at all? Do you take for granted that you have anything inside you to be untrue toward? I am not sure that is the case.

The problem of course is: can you really be anyone without anyone? No. So go on and do and don't worry about not succeeding in existing, because one day you will be born. On that day however, rest assured that you will be recognised. After all, is witnessing birth itself not the only way to be sure of life?

A tall woman on Lewisham Way today

I sometimes wonder if women want to fuck the way i do when i see them sometimes. Well, sometimes... not all the time, but everyday for sure. Not any one of them. Those whose walking is purposeful. Ok hold on, before i get into any of that, let me just say that i don't fuck them as much as see them breath hard. not too hard of course. it doesn't really work out that way in bed. nor would i want it to. in fact, that's the whole point. this woman doesn't give a shit, per se; she would if she didn't see you the way you saw her, in principle at least. she, they, with their closed mouths and open jaws, shutting eyes, shifting thighs, heavy heads, strong arms, and delected loss of the little self-control they can muster, pitifully free, their inability to be brought down by realism and frank social captivity so heavy a burden fallen to the very depths of hell at the prospective glimmer of arousal. these women that make me feel so jealous, so free, so lucid, so morbid, so curious and so young, so odd and so quiet, so and so behind this proud in-my-place.

I see them sometimes. so many different ones, yet all the same in one or two ways. they command conversation. they've probably never had an exchange proper. they are alone all the time because it is impossible for them to stop asking questions in the affirmative. answers for them are questions and contemplations built atop each other. joy is unsought because it is always instantly available, by virtue of their style's embeddedness with the future that urges the present. they walk ahead without being leaders. well actually that sounds really retarded. forget i said that. actually, they are so much more decadent than that. they really don't need you. but oh how they do miss you. without you they are simply too perfect. what a waste.

They smoke (in principle), they talk, they touch, they touch, they touch. you can make love to them anywhere. they are certainly always horny. well actually that's not true. sometimes what happens is that you get real horny, sometimes on their mischievous account, though to be fair, they love you, and they turn around once there's no turning back, and they kiss you, gently place their soft hands on your chest, bringing the left up to your jaw, in your thick hair, kneeling up around you as you sit more or less alone in the dark corner of the bar, you can smell their unwashed breasts under the tight damp clothes, their other hand snapping open your belt and slipping under your torn underwear, somehow maneuvering you and around here and there at a pace that can only indicate to you both that, in good time, you will come.

They tend to be tall. they tend to be white, well, i mean what does it matter anyway. in the land of the free there are no prejudices. tell it to me who faces the free and shines a light so bright as to blind all those likely to save me. tell it to me. bah! this isn't about me anyway.

They are kids who know so much. who can explain so much. who have so many questions. who correct you on every account your ambition fails your heart and who are light-up every time your heart speaks through your mind. they use your ideas against you and dissect your open wounds, they teach you about everything you can never understand, they fight the revolution in your body and mend the endless battlefields of sorrow with simple hugs. they are warm. they are immense. when your eyes fall to the ground, they take your corpse to the heavens and give you flesh. they are fire and you burn. you skin boils, your muscles cook, your bones sweat, and your temperature rises. you feel again, you are saved, you have become, and you are invincible. their are your life, if only they could grasp it as they do you.

you see it in them for you and for all. they are the whore of the revolution. they are the power of will, they are the crutch of feeble men. they are the raison d'etat, they are fucked over, and you resent that. you walk away, you don't walk away. no actually that's not true. they are much more than that. you cannot understand them. you cannot know them. they don't even know them, so how could you? (knowing others who cannot know themselves is the domain of women. that is their monopoly. i don't mean so much that they know others, they just happen to be right, on no enlightened account. a fluke if you will. they don't even know when it kicks in or when it is in effect. unexploitable, so useless to dwell on here)

They are irreproachable. they are uncanny. they are ephemeral. they are all those things that words you don't know denote. they have lives but they do not have purposes. they understand, but the understandable always grows faster than does understanding. they are lost but don't care enough to have direction exist beyond the limits of their vision.

In the end, you don't want them for you, you just want to make sure, to have the continuous proof, that they permanently exist.

Thanksgiving "Meat" LoafIngredients (use vegan versions):substitute for 2 eggs (mix 1 tablespoon arrowroot powder, 1 tablespoon corn starch, and 4 tablespoons water)1 tablespoon soy sauce1 box medium firm silken tofu (350 g)3/4 cup chopped walnuts1 packet vegan dried onion soup mix (1.5 oz)1 teaspoon oil1 1/2 cups chopped onion2/4 cup chopped celery2 cups chopped mushrooms (use portobello mushrooms for a heartier taste)1 1/2 teaspoon each of oregano and basil1/2 teaspoon sage1 1/2 cups bread crumbs (Variations: To make it stick together better, try lowering the bread crumbs to 3/4 cup and adding one of the following: 1 extra box of tofu, 1 cup of instant mashed potato flakes, 1 - 1 1/2 cup of cooked brown rice or 1 cup burger-style crumbles)Directions:Mix egg substitute, soy sauce, tofu & onion soup mix together in blender. Add walnuts & blend until smooth.Saute vegetables until onions are transparent (add other diced veggies if you wish - ie peppers, carrotsetc). Add herbs/spices while vegetables are frying.Mix blender ingredients, cooked vegetables and bread crumbs together in a large bowl.Press into a greased loaf pan.

No Border Camp Montreal (oct. 24 2007)


[Sic:] Mustafa (SAB), Badr, Lydia, Phil, (CKUT), Emily (Block the Empire), Annette, David (Qc.), Shams (SAB + Parc-ex housing), Reza, Poya, Faiz, Dominik, Guiaumme (PASC?), Rachel, Chase, Sam, Marisa, Oscar.

Update & dicussion:
Last meeting (sept. 26) it was discussed that a camp at the Laval detention ctr ("immigration prevention ctr") could be organised in solidarity with no-border events held at the US-Mexico border.
Nous organisons un camp au centre de detention de laval, en solidarite avec les evennements "sans frontieres" ayant lieux simultanement sur celle des EU-Mexique.
It was suggested that we have visuals and sound so that folks inside the centre may see us and be inspired by our presence. We would also like to do outreach during visiting hours so that visitors can be informed of SAB, the "no border" and "status for all campaign", as well as good lawyers who have commited themselves to these issues.
Proposition d'avoir des sons et du visuel pour que ceux en dedans puissent nous voir et prendre avantage de notre solidarite. Nous aimerions aussi jaser avec les visiteurs, faire de la mobilisation, leurs informer des activites des SSF, des autres campagnes, et leurs suggerer des avocats engages.
We delved into some analysis. One point that came out was that detention camps are new in recent canadian history. This fact can be stressed when doing outreach. "canadians" do not think that people who enter canada should be stuck in prisons (this kind of policy is more accepted in europe, but not here). A testimony that details the awefull holding conditions is available. Conditions in YMCA are also deplorable (1- no access to detainees inside YMCA; 2- adequate food is not always available; 3- lack of resources). A discussion of the racial undertones of refugee and immigration policy followed.
Nous avons fait de l'analyse. On a mis d'avance le fait que les centres de detentions sont nouvelles, dans notre cas, en ce qui a trait l'histoire recente au canada. La detention est donc en ce sense encore moins acceptable. la plus part des gens, si adequatement informes, sont contre la presente polique de detenir les nouveaux arrivants en prisons. Nous avons en mains un document qui temoigne des conditions deplorables dans les centres. Les YMCA laissent aussi a desirer: pas d'access aux detenues, pas de bouffe adequate, carence de resources. C'est de la xenophobie et du racisme.

The camp:
We aim to show our support for/to those on the inside, offer our presence, make and present our demands...
Pour la solidarite avec les detenues

Our demands & message:
A) End detention / Fin aux detentions
- abolish security certificates
- free political prisoners
- dignity for detainees (YMCA stuff)
B) Freedom of movement / Liberte de movement [sic]
- end deportation
- abolish apartheid walls
C) Status for all / Status pour toutes
D) End to campaigns of xenophobia and racism / fin aux campagnes xenophobiques et racistes
Mustafa and poya are working on a call-out / mobilisation
Marisa and Oscar are working on a flyer / tract
Emily and Guillaumme are working on doing a poster

Logistic:

We're going to hold a brunch at atwater parc \ YMCA on saturday the 10th at 11am (invite YMCA people over, present letter or petition); leave via bus (and STM when necessary) at 1pm; stay in Laval untill noon the next day.
Brunch @ parc atwater / YMCA le 10 at 11hr; bus vers laval at 13hrs; on y reste jusqu'au prochain jour a midi

sound / son *alden, mustafa*
>>>>
film/tech
visuals-banners / visuelles *rachel*
liaisons *bouffe + trasport = dominik, Qc.= david*
welcome table / acceuil *davis, rachel, guillaumme*
scouting / reperage *emily*
outreach (including around laval areas before the event) / mobilisation (y inclus a laval)
*rachel, raza, marisa, david = Qc., emily, guillaumme, poya*
food / bouffe
sat. sam - atwater
supper + breakfast (laval)
drinks (water, hot drinks) / breuvages
*marisa, kita, dominik, david = bread, rachel = drinks*
set-up - set-down *raza, rachel (co-bottom-line w poya), guillaumme, dominik*
media *poya, faiz*
animation (speeches,chants,MCs)
+
programation (movies, workshops)
*mustafa, kita*
finance *emily asking Blem + musta asking SAB, poya, faiz*
note: checks to be made out to "Solidarite Sans Frontiere"
legal *mustafa, poya, faiz*
toilets\electricity *mustafa = electricity*
medics (for cold/ pour le froid) \ kids enfants
*emily = emily, kids = rachel*
transport *guillaumme, poya*
confirmation verification *guillaumme*
to bring / a apporter (cutlery, TP, supplies, warm stuff...)
translation *david*
announcing + flyering at anti-war demo and parties / annonces et mob ce vendredi
*mustafa, raza, emily*
contact w/ police

We have: trailer with stove (HQ), tarps and camp stoves.

Dear folks at Independent Diplomat,
This is email aims to wager your receptivity to colaboration on an information project.
I am a student currently putting finishing touches on a one year MA of International Studies at Goldsmiths College University of London under the supervision of Prof. George Lawson. I had attended Mr. Carne Ross' lecture at Chatham ouse a few months ago and thought it to be a rather usefull source in my studies, most notably in my preparations for the diplomatic service exam.
I am looking for adequate informants for a radio documentary about World Politics. I thought that Independent Diplomat might be able to offer a few interviewees on the matter of ...
This would entail xyz over xyz time period...
Ungfortunately, none of my informants can speak on behalf of private or partisan organisations, thus while I may acknowledge the support of Independent Diplomat and amend logos in appropriate promotional material, I cannot offer on-air credits to your organisation. In other words, interviewees will formally speak on their own behalf.









Faiz Kenedie Producing Member - CKUT Radio Montreal

Bibliography

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Bratton, Michael and Nicholas van de Walle, Democratic Experiments in Africa: Regime Transitions in a Comparative Perspective, Cambridge: CUP, 1997
______ "Neopatrimonial Regimes and Political Transitions in Africa", World Politics, Vol. 46, July (1994)
Brown, S., "Authoritarian Leaders and multiparty elections in Africa: how foreign donors help to keep Kenya's Daniel arap Moi in power", Third World Quarterly, Vol. 22, No. 5, (2001)
Burnell, P. (ed.), Democracy Assistance, Frank Cass, 2000
Chabal, Patrick. Power in Africa: An Essay in Political Interpretation. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1994
Chabal, Patrick and J-P Dalloz, Africa Works, Disorder as Political Instrument, London: James Currey Publishers, 1999
Chazan, Naomi and John Ravenhill, ‘The Political Repercussions of Economic Malaise’ in Callaghy, Thomas M. and John Ravenhill (eds.), Hemmed in: Responses to Africa's Economic Decline, Chichester : Columbia U.P., 1993
Fox, G. H. & B. R. Roth, "Democracy and International Law", Review of International Studies, Vol. 27, No. 3 (2001)
Gibson, Clark, "Of Waves and Ripples: Democracy and Political Change in Africa in the 1990s", Annual Review of Political Science, Vol. 5, June (2002)
Harrison, G., 'Post-conditionality Politics and Administrative reform: Reflections on the Cases of Uganda and Tanzania', Development and Change, Vol. 32 (2001)
Hearn, Julie, Foreign Aid, Democratisation and Civil Society in Africa: A Study of South Africa, Ghana and Uganda, IDS Discussion Paper 368, March 1999.
Huntington, Samuel, Political Order in Changing Societies, London : Yale University Press, c1968.
Jeffries, R., 'The State, structural adjustment and good government in Africa', Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, Vol. 31, No. 1 (1993)
Kelsall, T., 'Shop Windows and smoke-filled rooms: Governance and the Repoliticisation of Tanzania', Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 40, No. 4 (2002)
Lawson, Letita, "External Democracy Promotion in Africa: Another False Start", Journal of Commonwealth & Comparative Politics , Vol. 37, 1 (1999)
Lipset, Seymour Martin, Political Man : the Social Bases of Politics, London : Heinemann, 1983
Mamdani, Mahmood, "African States, Citizenship and War: A Case-Study." International Affairs, Volume 78, Number 3 (2002)
Mamdani, Mahmood, Citizen and Subject: Contemporary Africa and the Legacy of Late Colonialism, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996.
Moore, David, 'Reading Americans on Democracy in Africa: From the CIA to 'Good Governance'', European Journal of Development Research, Vol. 8, No. 1 (1996)
Olsen, G.R., "Europe and the Promotion of Democracy in post-Cold War Africa", African Affairs, Vol. 97, No. 1 (1998)
Ottaway, Marina, Africa's New Leaders: Democracy or State Reconstruction?, Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1999
Robinson, William I., Promoting Polyarchy Globalisation, US Intervention and Hegemony, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996
Santiso, C., "Responding to democratic Decay and crises of Governance: The European Union and the Convention of Cotonou", Democratization, Vol.10, No. 3 (2003)
Szeftel, Morris, 'Misunderstanding African Politics: Corruption and the Governance Agenda', Review of African Political Economy, Vol. 76, No. 1 (1998)
Wallerstein, Immanuel, Africa: the Politics of Independence and Unity, Lincoln : University of Nebraska Press, 2005.
Williams, David, 'Governance and the Discipline of Development', European Journal of Development Research, Vol. 8, No. 1 (1996)
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Website:
Zakaria, Fareed, "The rise of Illiberal Democracies", http://www.fareedzakaria.com/ARTICLES/other/democracy.html, Date Accessed: Dec. 1st 2006






Faiz Sharlatan
33060919













Paper for Rashmi Singh: Order and Disorder

sirenis

It is impossible to learn anything, and thus to relegate any thought, be it in writing or otherwise, without attempting something. Failure and success determine only the tone of an account or inspiration. Or at least such is the case for failure. Success being more often than not a euphemism for either what was thought to be failure or a simulacrum of a fantasy.



. There is only one raison d'etat, one raison de vivre, one excuse and meaning of action in life. This is the source of all compulsion and fear. It is the mother of patience and only true rationale behind all rationalisation, or what today we mistakenly justify as rationality. This, of course, is the overcoming of constraints not entirely of our making. To be more accurate, it is the overcoming of constraints wholly of our making. That and music.
. But let's avoid making too broad generalisations for the time being. Those moments when we recall other times of lessons learned are when we feel both shame and deliverance. When we think back to difficult events, we are weary yet invincible. We are sheepish, for it occurs to us that we had expelled such stupid energy. "How could this have consumed me so?" Much to our dismay. In any case, we look up and smile to any interruption of those thoughts.
. All of this does not, obviously, dismiss hardship. My caution should not be heard as a claim to universality. There is no single pain. There is only the righteousness of the Abyss, the ocean of a flat world. There is no freedom under lock and key, there is only freedom in doorless rooms. The windows of hope should never lead to landscapes that have already been painted. It is only our burden to carry the canvas of existence.



there's only one way to get drunk. tha way is wasted. in caucun. when one is gone, one is gone on another planet. the universe becomes a place inhibited absurdity beyond the abiltity ofo a simgle persone to make sense of. one is unable to express any sense a volleyballesque retention. we become immune to the state of affairs. our selves becomes the ihibition of an entire generation of morons. we cannot helf ourfelves from typing lyping liie illerate idiots ready for nothing else but copulation on ht emmost basic of [primate formulas. it is impossible to make ends meet on ht egrounds of anything but the impossibility of existense. it's as though nothing but the atomic bomb were wre able to determine the fate of humanity. with the slight execption of will power and individual desire for desire existence.


regardless. i digress, for living at such a time of life and time beyond morning is nothing but moring for life. and that is nothing but mourning. god bless the sould of the dead and bless the soul of the deaesead, for the deaqd are dead and the dead are dead. long live the queen and her mother and soul. long live the queen and ther mother of souls. forgive me for the ills i've aided and forgive me fore the movement i've instigated. me life is with you and you are my saviour. thank you and god bless your endeavours. amen.



je t'aime mon amour. que tu puisse me liberer de cette tragedie de brume. que tu puisse me revenir des brume. les osses de mes encetres. veulliez m'atrrendrire de cette hypocrisy. veuiller me pardonner cette mediocrite. merci. et de dieu vous benisse.


amen.

any vivian girl for me please

Mirrors.

MIrrors.

Seeking, seeing, fleeing, eating raw and permutating fflaw.

Ouch, ouch euh, right; ohhhh.
My heart thumps and pounds. my chest hurts because it pounds, it stammers and hammers so roughly that hurt is relieved periodically only by scrapes. I lose all explanation. i will never be free of this. it will never go away. all i can do is smirk. oh how much life will hurt.

Echoes echoes eh-
oes.
always there. as mentioned previously
on other occasions
some other time.

cee.
see cee. she was there. and so was anyone who
i don't care.
all that there was for me at time of volume was loudness of these people's beings..
so i have to say, the fucking guitarist....
the bassist,
god damn.

so stupid,
but just enough. not beyond your extinction

incessant rejection. self inflicted
auto-imune self avowed personal poetry from the dept of your souls
Fuck humans attitude from outside your mom's house biatch

tap tap tap so hard tap till they all break
down and under fire to be continued you (*&^%$
close parenthesis

my bike

my bike

I am amazed by my bike.
It's more beautiful now than ever,
though i would never have thought so.

now, now and then, but now for the first time,
my bike is me
and i am my bike.

It is an animal
a small beast
running,
to where, away,
it doesn't matter. it runs always; i run always.

And do we run fast. we are built for it,
and everyone can see it.
i am ashamed, when i don't remember. I knew, and i must thus know.
but at times of peace, one tends to forget
awestruck by beauty,
the sensitivity for which is our nature
the only occupation we can rely on to keep us sane when artifice is forgotten.

My bike helps me.
If only i could repay it. If only i could tend it a hand full of light
a life for which nothing it would otherwise hope for in time of need, that moment in time between beginning and end.