Star of the Unborn, this soft but sharp, feeble but shrilly screeching eruption of human rage rising from the extensive turnip field made me forget everything else

The Ancestress asked permission to touch my hand. I respectfully surrendered it to her icy smooth fingers which, no matter how impeccable they looked, felt horrible.

At this point GR³ threw in a remark with her sonorous but suggestive contralto. “I remember those petrified cakes distinctly. I liked them better than the Sympaians of today.”

But suddenly he broke off and sagged down in his armchair, and his face seemed to shrivel up as he said to me with gloomy foreboding, “He only promises it, but the Others will bring it to pass.”

Under the screen of my numbing need of sleep I felt a radiant happiness. “It’s true then,” I mused. “The great naturalistic stupidity and its consequences were finally conquered?” The Grand Bishop refilled my glass with great deliberation. The crystal hummed like a bell under the impact of the golden wine. I had longed for another drink but had not dared to ask for it.

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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!

D'`$M]oJIlG{EyUvSu?bq/M-JJ*kG'3gee/bx`<*)sxqYotsrk1oQPlkd*hg`edcbaZ~^W?[ZSRvuUNSLQPONGkK-IBA@dDC%;:?8\<|{981Uv.3,1*N.-m%*#GFgf$#zy?}_{t:xwputm3qpRQ.-e+ihJI_%c\a`_X|VUZSXQub

(Fox Socks Box Knox)

D'`rq]!n[}kFVh0vA@Q1a/o^mJIk54&feec!Q,<{)9xwvotm3Tpinglkd*hg`edc\"CBX]\UTx;WPUTMq4PONGLEDhHGF(>C<A@9]=6|:32V65.32+*N('&+*)('~D$#"!aw={zs9wvXnm32poQglkjib(feGcba`Y}@\UZYXWPOs65KPIHGkKDIBAe?'C<;@?>=6Z:9876v43,+Op.',%*#G'~f|{"y?w_utyxq7XWsrqpoh.ONdiba'eG]baZ_X|i

(Knox in box. Fox in socks.)

D'`_$">n6Y|{i1wv4Qt+rp;o&JH)5ED2|dc!bwO*)Lxwvotm3Tpinglkd*hg`edc\"CBX]\UTx;WPUTMqKJONGkKJIHA@dDCB;@?87[;:z870Tu3,10).'K+*j"F&f$#"!x}v<;yxqYutm3Tpinglkd*hgfH%F\[`_^W{>=YXQuO7SLKJnHGLKJIBAe(DCBA:^8=<;492V6/u-,+Op.-&+$)"F&feBz!xw|uzs9wpXn4lqpi/Pfejchg`&q

(Knox on fox in socks in box.)

D'`r^LKnIZXWi1Cwu@,P=M.KmI$Z(FED$BS?-}`{)LrZvonm3qpoQPlkd*bg`e^]#aCY}]\[T<RvVUTSRQPImMFj-CBG@dDCB;@?87[5{9810/S32r0/.'K%$H"!~}Cd"!x}v<;sxwvon4UTpong-NMcba'eGc\[!Y^WV[ZSwWVUTM5KoOHMFj-CgGFEDCB;_?>=<|{92V6/.3210)(L,+$j"'~D$dc!x>|uzyxqpo5Vrkjoh.Okdib(`H^c\"!~}@V[TYXWVOsMLp3ImM/KJIBAeED&B;_?!=654X876v43,+Op.',%*#G'~f|{"y?w_utyxq7XWsrqpoh.ONdiba'e^Fb[`_X|{>=YXQuOTSLp3ONMLEDhHGFED=%;_?!=6549270T4t,P0)o'&Jk#"!E}${Ab~w|u;yrZvutsl2jihmle+cb(`edcbaZ~AWVzg

(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!”

The Sorrows of Priapus, We Weep Because The Human Race Is No Better Than It Is

Chapter i, (∩`-´)⊃━☆゚.*・。゚

Man must be classed among the brutes, for he is still a very awkward and salacious biped. What shape he will assume in the future is vague. There are many traits of early man he has lost, and it is plain that he is much more given to falsehood, robbery and lawsuits than the primitive. The first two-legged man scratched himself because he had an itch. Men now lie and steal for this pleasure. Primeval natures wallowed without thought, but soon as men began thinking how pleasant it was to rub themselves and to have deliriums from mud, they employed their minds to achieve what paleolithic mankind did without being lascivious.

Men lie, not alone for profit, but to root in Circe’s mire. No pigmy or cave-dweller wears more bizarre or dirty raiment than present-day man. He is often as offensive as the gland on the back of the Brazil peccary. He would rather tell a lie than the truth because his sole purpose is to be a grub.

He is the most ridiculous beast on the earth, and the reason for this is his mind and his pudendum. He sacks nations, or throws away his reason to see the petticoat of Aspasia or Helen empurpled by murex or the lichen at Madeira. The procreative organ in the camel is behind, but in man it is in front, and unless he is too fat to look over his belly, he pays more attention to this gibbous organ than to his arms, his talus, or anything else. He frequently forgets how his arms look, and is surprised to find a wen on his jaw, and he rarely knows whether his pupils are brown or ochreous, but he is always mindful of his testes hanging between his legs like folly.

In the Book of Enoch the scribe says that the first twolegged creatures had the private parts of great studs, and it may well be that Methuselah and Jared and Mahalalel were mountains and that from their middle hung hills which were their organs of generation. Otherwise, it is impossible for one to imagine how they could live for nine hundred years without wearing out their genitals. It is known that Og, King of Bashan, had an iron bedstead seven cubits long, and that the giants of Anak had six fingers.

Adam bare stones long before he begat Seth. Human life began as procreative mud, and later man was a shark with a human face. There was a human species with a lion’s mouth and the legs of a giraffe, for anterior to the neolithic period diverse animals mingled. Many of our traits are found in the countenance of the bear and in the lip of the pard. The story that the pigmies were chased from the River Strymon by cranes is also a fable of our bird origin.

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§ 31. Das Da-sein als Verstehen, Am morgen ein Bier und der Tag gehört dir … In vino veritas

Trink, trink, Brüderlein, trink Lass doch die Sorgen zu Haus

Die Befindlichkeit ist eine der existenzialen Strukturen, in denen sich das Sein des »Da« hält. Gleichursprünglich mit ihr konstituiert dieses Sein das Verstehen. Befindlichkeit hat je ihr Verständnis, wenn auch nur so, daß sie es niederhält. Verstehen ist immer gestimmtes.

Wenn wir dieses als fundamentales Existenzial interpretieren, dann zeigt sich damit an, daß dieses Phänomen als Grundmodus des Seins des Daseins begriffen wird. »Verstehen« dagegen im Sinne einer möglichen Erkenntnisart unter anderen, etwa unterschieden von »Erklären«, muß mit diesem als existenziales Derivat des primären, das Sein des Da überhaupt mitkonstituierenden Verstehens interpretiert werden.

Die bisherige Untersuchung ist denn auch schon auf dieses ursprüngliche Verstehen gestoßen, ohne daß sie es ausdrücklich in das Thema einrücken ließ. Das Dasein ist existierend sein Da, besagt einmal: Welt ist »da«; deren Da-sein ist das In-sein. Und dieses ist imgleichen »da« und zwar als das, worumwillen das Dasein ist. Im Worumwillen ist das existierende In-der-Welt-sein als solches erschlossen, welche Erschlossenheit Verstehen genannt wurde1. Im Verstehen des Worumwillen ist die darin gründende Bedeutsamkeit miterschlossen. Die Erschlossenheit des Verstehens betrifft als die von Worumwillen und Bedeutsamkeit gleichursprünglich das volle In-der-Welt-sein. Bedeutsamkeit ist das, woraufhin Welt als solche erschlossen ist. Worumwillen und Bedeutsamkeit sind im Dasein erschlossen, besagt: Dasein ist Seiendes, dem es als In-der-Welt-sein um es selbst geht.

Wir gebrauchen zuweilen in ontischer Rede den Ausdruck »etwas verstehen« in der Bedeutung von »einer Sache vorstehen können«, »ihr gewachsen sein«, »etwas können«. Das im Verstehen als Existenzial Gekonnte ist kein Was, sondern das Sein als Existieren. Im Verstehen liegt existenzial die Seinsart des Daseins als Sein-können. Dasein ist nicht ein Vorhandenes, das als Zugabe noch besitzt, etwas zu können, sondern es ist primär Möglichsein. Dasein ist je das, was es sein kann und wie es seine Möglichkeit ist. Das wesenhafte Möglichsein des Daseins betrifft die charakterisierten Weisen des Besorgens der »Welt«, der Fürsorge für die anderen und in all dem und immer schon das Seinkönnen zu ihm selbst, umwillen seiner. Das Möglichsein, das je das Dasein existenzial ist, unterscheidet sich ebensosehr von der leeren, logischen Möglichkeit wie von der Kontingenz eines Vorhandenen, sofern mit diesem das und jenes »passieren« kann. Als modale Kategorie der Vorhandenheit bedeutet Möglichkeit das noch nicht Wirkliche und das nicht jemals Notwendige. Sie charakterisiert das nur Mögliche. Sie ist ontologisch niedriger als Wirklichkeit und Notwendigkeit. Die Möglichkeit als Existenzial dagegen ist die ur-1 Vgl. § 18,S. 85 ff.

Meide den Kummer und meide den Schmerz Dann ist das Leben ein Scherz, Meide den Kummer und meide den Schmerz Ja, dann ist das Leben ein Scherz!

A brief abstract of The Mahabharata … in ten thousand words

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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Norstrilia, the story is simple …

地の香り、
生命の証拠、
不思議な驚き。

水の記憶、
万年のコード、
星を征服。

豊かさに、
あふれる生と死、
ノーストリリアは知らぬ。

But he didn’t want girls. He wanted postage stamps …

“You may not know it, my darling,” spieked the great bird-man, “but long before these people build cities, there were others in the Earth – the ones who came after the Ancient World fell. They went far beyond the limitations of the human form. They conquered death. They did not have sickness. They did not need love. They sought to be abstractions lying outside of time. And they died, E’lamelanie – they died terribly. Some became monsters, preying on the remnants of true men for reasons which ordinary men could not even begin to understand. Others were like oysters, wrapped up in their own sainthood. They had all forgotten that humanness is itself imperfection and corruption, that what is perfect is no longer understandable. We have the fragments of the Word, and we are truer to the deep traditions of people than people themselves are, but we must never be foolish enough to look for perfection in this life or to count on our own powers to make us really different from what we are. You and I are animals, darling, not even real people, but people do not understand the teaching of Joan, that whatever seems human is human. It is the word which quickens, not the shape or the blood or the texture of flesh or hair or feathers. And there is that power which you and I do not name, but which we love and cherish because we need it more than do the people on the surface. Great beliefs always come out of the sewers of cities, not out of the towers of the ziggurats. Furthermore, we are discarded animals, not used ones. All of us down here are the rubbish which mankind has thrown away and has forgotten. We have a great advantage in this because we know from the very beginning of our lives that we are worthless. And why are we worthless? Because a higher standard and a higher truth says that we are – the conventional law and the unwritten customs of mankind. But I feel love for you, my daughter, and you have love for me. We know that everything which loves has a value in itself, and that therefore this worthlessness of underpeople is wrong. We are forced to look beyond the minute and the hour to the place where no clocks work and no day dawns. There is a world outside of time, and it is to that which we appeal. I know that you have a love for the devotional life, my child, and I commend you for it, but it would be a sorry faith which waited for passing travelers or which believed that a miracle or two could set the nature of things right and whole. The people on the surface think they have gone beyond the old problems, because they do not have buildings which they call churches or temples, and they do not have professional religious men within their communities. But the higher power and the large problems still wait for all men, whether men like it or not. Today, Believing among mankind is a ridiculous hobby, tolerated by the Instrumentality because the Believers are unimportant and weak, but mankind has moments of enormous passion which will come again and in which we will share. So don’t you wait for your hero beyond the stars. If you have a good devotional life within you, it is already here, waiting to be watered by your tears and ploughed up by your hard, clear thoughts. And if you don’t have a devotional life, there are good lives outside.

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The Country Boy

Soy el tigre.
Te acecho entre las hojas anchas como lingotes
de mineral mojado.
El río blanco crece bajo la niebla. Llegas.
Desnuda te sumerges. Espero.

THE CHILEAN FOREST

Under the volcanoes, beside the snow-capped mountains, among the huge lakes, the fragrant, the silent, the tangled Chilean forest … My feet sink down into the dead leaves, a fragile twig crackles, the giant rauli trees rise in all their bristling height, a bird from the cold jungle passes over, flaps its wings, and stops in the sunless branches. And then, from its hideaway, it sings like an oboe … The wild scent of the laurel, the dark scent of the boldo herb enter my nostrils and flood my whole being … The cypress of the Guaitecas blocks my way … This is a vertical world: a nation of birds, a plenitude of leaves … I stumble over a rock, dig up the uncovered hollow, an enormous spider covered with red hair stares up at me, motionless, as huge as a crab … A golden carabus beetle blows its mephitic breath at me, as its brilliant rainbow disappears like lightning … Going on, I pass through a forest of ferns much taller than I am: from their cold green eyes sixty tears splash down on my face and, behind me, their fans go on quivering for a long time … A decaying tree trunk: what a treasure!… Black and blue mushrooms have given it ears, red parasite plants have covered it with rubies, other lazy plants have let it borrow their beards, and a snake springs out of the rotted body like a sudden breath, as if the spirit of the dead trunk were slipping away from it … Farther along, each tree stands away from its fellows … They soar up over the carpet of the secretive forest, and the foliage of each has its own style, linear, bristling, ramulose, lanceolate, as if cut by shears moving in infinite ways … A gorge; below, the crystal water slides over granite and jasper … A butterfly goes past, bright as a lemon, dancing between the water and the sunlight … Close by, innumerable calceolarias nod their little yellow heads in greeting … High up, red copihues (Lapageria rosea) dangle like drops from the magic forest’s arteries … The red copihue is the blood flower, the white copihue is the snow flower … A fox cuts through the silence like a flash, sending a shiver through the leaves, but silence is the law of the plant kingdom … The barely audible cry of some bewildered animal far off … The piercing interruption of a hidden bird … The vegetable world keeps up its low rustle until a storm churns up all the music of the earth.

Anyone who hasn’t been in the Chilean forest doesn’t know this planet.

I have come out of that landscape, that mud, that silence, to roam, to go singing through the world.

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