When beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles and the bottle’s on a poodle and the poodle’s eating noodles … Malbolge Fox in Socks, Sir!


(Fox Socks Box Knox)


(Knox in box. Fox in socks.)


(Knox on fox in socks in box.)


(Socks on Knox and Knox in box. Fox in socks on box on Knox.)

Continue reading “When beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles and the bottle’s on a poodle and the poodle’s eating noodles … Malbolge Fox in Socks, Sir!”

L’angelo caduto diventa un diavolo maligno

“Oh, it is not thus—not thus,” interrupted the being; “yet such must be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of my actions. Yet I seek not a fellow-feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now, that virtue has become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to suffer alone, while my sufferings shall endure: when I die, I am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings, who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of bringing forth. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now vice has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No crime, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I call over the frightful catalogue of my deeds, I cannot believe that I am he whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendant visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am quite alone.

– Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

On ðone ærystan dæg þæs [monðes] bið ealra haligra tid

OE Old Eng. Martyrol. (Julius) 1 Nov. 243 On ðone ærystan dæg þæs [monðes] bið ealra haligra tid. OE Wulfstan Canons of Edgar (Junius) (1972) liv. 13 Ærest on easteræfen, and oðre siðe on candelmæsseæfen, þriddan siðe on ealra halgena mæsseæfen. 1325 Chron. Robert of Gloucester (Calig.) l. 8601 (MED) A sterre þat comete icluped is At alle halwen tid him ssewede. 1447 in S. A. Moore Lett. & Papers J. Shillingford (1871) i. 16 (MED) The morun tuysday, al Halwyn yeven. 1548 in J. G. Nichols Chron. Grey Friars 57 This yere before Alhallontyd was sett up the howse for the markyt folke in Newgate market for to waye melle in. 1556 in J. G. Nichols Chron. Grey Friars 17 Thys yere the towne of Depe was tane..on Halhalon evyn. 1616 W. Shakespeare Measure for Measure (1623) ii. i. 121 Clo. Was’t not at Hallowmas Master Froth? Fro. Allhallond-Eue. 1653 I. Walton Compl. Angler 222 About All-hollantide, when you see men ploughing up heath-ground.

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch

over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.

I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;

fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.

I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor

where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.

I have been her kind.

– Anne Sexton

The Work … and man made this curse a pleasure

Instead of man striving for a bright present in the world, for a solar and sparkling existence, instead of living for himself – not in the sense of selfishness, but of inner growth – he became a sinful and impotent slave of the reality outside

„Oamenii muncesc în general prea mult pentru a mai putea fi ei înşişi. Munca este un blestem. Iar omul a făcut din acest blestem o voluptate. A munci din toate forţele numai pentru muncă, a găsi o bucurie într-un efort care nu duce decât la realizări irelevante, a concepe că te poţi realiza numai printr-o muncă obiectivă şi neîncetată, iată ceea ce este revoltător şi ininteligibil. Munca susţinută şi neîncetată tâmpeşte, trivializează şi impersonalizează. Ea deplasează centrul de preocupare şi interes din zona subiectivă întro zonă obiectivă a lucrurilor, într-un plan fad de obiectivitate. Omul nu se interesează atunci de destinul său personal, de educaţia lui lăuntrică, de intensitatea unor fosforescente interne şi de realizarea unei prezente iradiante, ci de fapte, de lucruri. Munca adevărată, care ar fi o activitate de continuă transfigurare, a devenit o activitate de exteriorizare, de ieşire din centrul fiinţei. Este caracteristic că în lumea modernă munca indică o activitate exclusiv exterioară. De aceea, prin ea omul nu se realizează, ci realizează. Faptul că fiecare om trebuie să aibă o carieră, să intre într-o formă de viaţă care aproape niciodată nu-i convine, este expresia acestei tendinţe de imbecilizare prin muncă. Să munceşti pentru ca să trăieşti, iată o fatalitate care la om e mai dureroasă decât la animal. Căci la acesta activitatea este atât de organică, încât el n-o separă de existenta sa proprie, pe când omul îşi dă seama de plusul considerabil pe care-l adaugă fiinţei sale complexul de forme al muncii. In frenezia muncii, la om se manifestă una din tendinţele lui de a iubi răul, când acesta este fatal şi frecvent. Şi în muncă omul a uitat de el însuşi. Dar n-a uitat ajungând la naivitatea simplă şi dulce, ci la o exteriorizare vecină cu imbecilitatea. Prin muncă a devenit din subiect obiect, adică un animal, cu defectul de a fi mai putin sălbatic. In loc ca omul să tindă la o prezentă strălucitoare în lume, la o existentă solară şi sclipitoare, în loc să trăiască pentru el însuşi – nu în sens de egoism, ci de creştere interioară – a ajuns un rob păcătos şi impotent al realităţii din afară.”

“People generally work too much to be themselves. Work is a curse. And man made this curse a pleasure. To work with all one’s strength only for work, to find joy in an effort that leads only to irrelevant achievements, to conceive that one can achieve oneself only through objective and unceasing work, this is what is revolting and unintelligible. Sustained and incessant work dulls, trivializes and impersonalizes. It moves the center of concern and interest from the subjective area to an objective area of things, in a bland plane of objectivity. Man is then not interested in his personal destiny, in his inner education, in the intensity of some internal phosphorescence and in the realization of a radiant present, but in facts, in things. True work, which would be an activity of continuous transfiguration, has become an activity of externalization, of leaving the center of being. It is characteristic that in the modern world work indicates an exclusively external activity. Therefore, through it man does not realize himself, but achieves. The fact that every man has to have a career, to enter into a form of life that almost never suits him, is the expression of this tendency to become imbecile through work. To work in order to live, here is a fatality that is more painful for humans than for animals. Because for him the activity is so organic that he does not separate it from his own existence, while man realizes the considerable plus that the complex of forms of work adds to his being. In the frenzy of work, man manifests one of his tendencies to love evil, when it is fatal and frequent. And in work man forgot about himself. But he did not forget, reaching simple and sweet naivety, but an externalization bordering on imbecility. Through work he became an object from a subject, i.e. an animal, with the defect of being less wild. Instead of man striving for a bright present in the world, for a solar and sparkling existence, instead of living for himself – not in the sense of selfishness, but of inner growth – he became a sinful and impotent slave of the reality outside .”

– Emil Cioran

A Brief Abstract of The Mahabharata

Consisting of 18 books, or parvas, this story revolves around the conflict between two factions of cousins, the Kauravas and Pandavas, for the throne of Hastinapura. It includes the famous Bhagavad Gita, a sacred Hindu scripture and a philosophical conversation between Prince Arjuna and Lord Krishna. The epic explores various themes such as duty, righteousness, family, war, and the nature of reality. It contains many notable characters: Krishna, Arjuna, Yudhishthira, Bhima, Nakula, Sahadeva, Draupadi, Duryodhana, and Karna. Known for its narrative, the moral, and philosophical dilemmas presented; it has a profound influence on Indian culture, literature, and religious beliefs.

महाभारत, संक्षिप्त सार

Book 1 Adi Parva, The Beginning

The daughter of the river was named Girika and the king made her his wife. Once, the time for intercourse arrived and Vasu’s wife, Girika, having purified herself by bathing at the fertile time, informed her husband about her state. But on that very day, his ancestors came to him and asked the best of kings and wisest of men to kill some deer. Thinking that the command of his ancestors should be followed, he went out to hunt, thinking of Girika, who was exceedingly beautiful and like Shri herself. He was so excited that the semen was discharged in the beautiful forest and wishing to save it, the king of the earth collected it in the leaf of a tree. The lord thought that his semen should not be wasted in vain and that his wife’s fertile period should not pass barren. Then the king thought about this many times and the best of kings firmly decided that his semen would be productive, since the semen was issued when his queen’s time was right. Learned in the subtleties of dharma and artha, the king consecrated the semen, which was productive for producing progeny, and addressed a hawk that was seated nearby. ‘O amiable one! Please take this seed to my wife Girika. She is in her season now. The swift hawk took it from him and flew speedily through the sky.

The Adi Parva introduces the key characters and provides the background leading up to the great Kurukshetra War. It begins with the sage Vyasa narrating the story to the divine sage Narada. Vyasa, the author of the Mahabharata, is the son of the sage Parashara and Satyavati. He is requested by Brahma, the creator of the universe, to compose the epic to enlighten and guide humanity.

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