Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Fifty Shades of Totally Jerking Off.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......


May your noses always be cold and wet.


Okay, Dr. Distracto is on the case again. You want to be rich and famous? It's not hard, all you have to do is throw your integrity out of the window (providing you have any) and several other things like, self respect and... you know the drill. Then, you take any plot whatsoever, it doesn't really matter and you write a book, filling it with kinky sex. If you want critical acclaim along with it, then you toss in a little pretentious philosophizing and tell yourself it's art. See... the people who control this industry and related industries, are all for any version of sick shit you come up with. In a period of temporary insanity, a couple of years ago, I wrote a 600+ page, single spaced, pornographic novel. I knew it was killer and would sell in a major way. I was pretty excited about it. No, not that kind of excited. Then I was sitting in my chair and musing... “Do I really want to be associated with this book?” Sure, I was going to publish it anonymously but it would get out who the author was. I sat and thought and sat and thought and then I deleted the whole thing. Occasionally it will come into my mind and I will think, wow! What was that? The reason I knew it would hit in a big way, was that ...aside from a whole lot of riveting sexual tapestries, it had a dynamite plot. “It was the usual thing I come up with”, he said, dismissively (grin). That's how it is though. That's how it is.


On a related matter, you got this. It's what they are into; that fecal thing. ♫It's yo thang, do what ya wanna do. I can't tell you who (or what) to sock it too. It's yo thang, it's yo thang♫ ...ad nauseum, This is why the art world is so anally focused and generally bankrupt of any inspiration. It's just one more facet of the incremental push to destroy western civilization. The word is, 'if you're too stupid to see it happening, you damn well deserve it'. If you are also so dumb that you can't even see them laughing at you while they do it, you definitely qualify as a joke. This general attitude is usually reinforced with bombast and ridiculous strutting around, sort of as if the personality of a chicken had taken over your formerly human persona. It stands to reason that you would be focused on shit, when your intention is to turn the world into shit. Though logic can be used to prove, or justify nearly everything, it is also very useful in cutting through the shit. The usual reason people don't cut through the shit, or engage in long and complex, convoluted argumentation about what are relatively simple equations, is either that they are looking to make money out of it; their intent is to confuse you, or they're just talking shit. You find this kind of thing among philosophers in any period of cultural decadence and you definitely find it among modern composes of classical music. You also, of course, find is deeply embedded in modern art and the Byzantine deconstructions of art critics.


Not that any of you will do it but... should you happen to find yourself on psychedelics, one of these days, see that you have on hand some Wittgenstein, Emmanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason and The Way of Life by Lao Tzu. Try reading all of them for periods of time and see how your heart and mind respond to each of them, during that period of heightened awareness. I used to take psychedelics and go to museums. I also used to take them and stand in front of the various embassies in Washington D.C., the various landmarks and places like the Masonic Temple that wasn't too far from DuPont Circle. Being under the influence of large portions of psychedelics and engaging in things like this can be very revealing. In the World of Dumbass you get all kinds of supercilious, self important twats, who sow their reams and reams of verbiage, amidst the white wine and cheese. Very often they will introduce their twaddle of logorrhea with something like, “What the artist is attempting to say here is”, unfortunately, after this introductory sentence, they go on and on and on, using words by weight, in order to add meaning to bullshit. This deserves another mention (of course, the author of the piece is-drum roll- a Tribe member). It's utter depravity, cloaked in self righteousness and under the excuse of political necessity. What art has become, is a vehicle concentrated on legitimizing alternative sexual focuses. A great deal of performance art fits into this category. You always get that, “raising awareness” thing just before they dump you into a steaming pile of toxic shit. Alchemists across the centuries were obsessed with turning lead into gold. The reverse cabala, alchemists are obsessed with turning gold, or anything else they can get their hands on, into shit. Toss in a few gallons of blood and they won't be needing any Viagra. That's known as sick shit. AND... I'm neither being imaginative or exaggerating.


It's right there on the surface and you can tell by the poisonous foam and sinister rainbow slicks that what lies in the depths is not pretty either. Still, people cannot, or refuse, to see this. Once again, they deserve what they get. They get dumped into the shit and once they are truly shit smeared clowns, they spontaneously combust. That's called flaming shit and you get the added bennie of redolent, olfactory stimulation. Ah, that unmistakeable bouquet! Everybody’s a winner! It's not 'step right up' though, it's 'step right off'.


If you don't get it, you don't get it. Like I said, there's some kind of mesmerizing gas that blankets the planet and is much more dense in some areas than in others. It shields the critical eye from confrontation with reality and provides a simu-state that passes for real but it is not real. In this fog are all the negative resonances of false patriotism, terminal arrogance, primal fears and a host of retardants that serve to insulate most people from the truth ...because the truth is much too dangerous for them to contemplate. There's always the chance it might slip out into the conversation or you might encounter a moral crisis, where you are compelled to do the right thing. That can be painful to the sheltered existence you've been operating in. There are all kinds of problems that are connected to encounters with the truth. Your point of view becomes irrevocably altered. Your responsibilities change. The impact on your relationship with your friends can be devastating. After all, you have those friends based on your mutual agreements concerning the unreal. When the real shows up, the unreal goes into vapor mode.


There is this resistance in the human mind to having to come up against the truth and... what is the inevitable result of that? You come up against the truth in a much less pleasant way than you might have. What is the greatest crime taking place on the planet in these days? That is the concerted effort to turn Lady Nature into a whore. When you demean the sacred vessel of your own delivery, you set in motion 'the bitch goddess'. It's entirely up to you whether you encounter Green Tara in her benevolent aspect, (Sim? How about the cover to my album 'Songwriter' here?) Kali or Smashan Tara in their frightful aspect.


Visible's Songwriter Album Cover
Visible's "Songwriter" Album Cover

It's your call, Dipshit. You want to profane the timeless beauty of that most radiant being? Have at it, Pilgrim, you strange monks of a lesser God. You want to sup of the Soup of Darkness from the bottomless bowl of Blasphemy? You want to trod upon that which is so much greater than your meaningless lives? It's said that the fall of man comes through women, given she is the temptation into the material realm but...it is only through woman that man shall rise again. Truer words have not been spoken. You want to seek exile in The Land of the Penisaurs, turning your back on that for which you no longer want the responsibility to love and cherish? Welcome to the Buttfuckers Perdition in the Kingdom of Sodom. I know so many of you don't like my saying it. You got investments of all kinds, in either the performance angle, or in the fatuous, faux-egalitarian hypocrisies, where you strut and proclaim about the equality of all demon-strations. It is my contention that all of us are persuaded by most everything at one time or another. It's a learning process but... only a fool does not see that this is nothing more than the surrender of one's being to the corruptions of materialism and that is why the hatred of the ineffable is so prevalent among them; as seen in that twisted musical about gay Mormons. You're really 'cutting edge' aren't you? Uh huh. You'll be finding out about that 'cutting edge.'

We live in interesting times.


It's not my way to indiscriminately dump on all of the alternative choices being made by people, seeking escape and the company of that spitting cobra in the swollen darkness. However, step by step, you march from stupidity to compliance, as you go seeking that ...gone missing commonality. Good luck, you're going to need it, once you discover there is no commonality in making deals with the devil.


You may have presumed needs that are ungovernable and most difficult to control; may the compassion of the invisible be upon you ...but when you stop struggling and instead, opt out for justification and a complex and ineffective defense and rationalization of whatever... well, we'll what we see when we see it.


So it goes, here in the land of blind lepers. You may not be missing body parts but you are assuredly missing things more critical. Live and learn or... don't


End Transmission.......


Mr Visible's new novel, “The Curious Tale of Ash and the Whine” is now available in digital form for those who have a burning desire to get it now. Simply send 10 Euro to lesvisible@gmail.com at Paypal and you will have a copy tout de suite. I'd appreciate some further reviews from those who have read the book or are reading it.


Visible sings: Eat Shit and Die by Les Visible♫ Eat Shit and Die ♫

46 comments:

Richard said...

Mas and Mas Visible

The finger tip tango on the keyboard on as supercharger and turboboost!!!

Reads like the last fog horn before the ship leaves for parts unknown, but with destiny certain. Hoping against reason that it gets heard by straggling sailor-men/women in the bars and cantinas, who have been oblivious to the captain of their ontological existence.

Be well, be Alert
Love
R

Visible said...

Well, I've never had any feeling for the guy except for suspicion and mistrust.

Richard said...

Mas and Mas Visible

Wrote a three paragraph piece on him in the Drukpa lineage newsletter in Jan2011, basically on the treatment of the feminine during his 14 incarnations. Despicable.

Two months later DL announced he would resign, later rescinded. Ah well, the foghorn, the foghorn.

Be well, Be Alert
Love
R

JerseyCynic said...

Thanks for this post, Visible. You have no idea. As with most important things in life, timing is everything. I'm working overtime with the 20 years olds, trying to prove how orchestrated this cultural decline is. ALMOST there....
I think I convinced one with the perfect timing of this "new" word....

http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/twerk


that toilet article -- are you shitting me? I've gotta go back and make sure that wasn't a spoof piece

Anonymous said...

Another incisive post Les. The song was a bit shit though.

Pete said...

Yeah, that about sums it up. Could the darkest of Atlantean magi have conceived of so potent a device for control as the television and radio ? I dont think so. America reminds me of one of your Haight Ashbury stories, regarding your first experience of HA being one of a place of love , creativity and good intentions. And when you returned years (?) later the psychopaths had flocked there to feed off of the positive energy and the place had become scary.

Anonymous said...

One of my favorite activities, while on acid, was to visit a local art museum. My favorite painting on display there was called "Love on the Beach". Sorry, I don't remeber the artist's name. It cartoonishly depicted two couples embracing on a beach, one couple standing up and one lying down. They both had forced, literally painted-on smiles -- grimaces, really -- to indicate how much fun they were supposedly having. The beach around them was covered with trash and sharp objects. I never could stop laughing while I stared at that painting. It was very revealing.

Another time, while not on any substance, I stood in front of a large abstract painting in the Museum of Modern Art, NYC. I had seen this piece of art in my textbook, while in school, and didn't understand it at all. However, while right there in front of it, I could immediately see that the painter had tried to capture a psychedelic experience, and done a rather good job of it. The same went for several other pieces in that museum.

I have said all along, since my first few experiences with mind-altering substances, that the reason they are illegal is that the ruling elite doesn't want us peasants to see things the way they really are. Instead, they want us to remain stupid and ruled by our lower, animal natures. Which is why you can legally buy enough alcohol to drown in, at any street corner store or gas station.

Even though it is now possible to fully know the truth, as never possible before now, most people do not want to know the truth. Once they find out the truth, the whole ugly truth, they have to do something about it -- usually they have to give up some precious habits and belongings, also give up friendship and stature with the world around them. This they DO NOT WANT, under any circumstances. Thus, they "receive not a love of the truth, and so believe the lie and are damned". Sad but true.

DV

Anonymous said...

via Homer..

"To avoid causing terror to living beings, let the disciple refrain from eating meat...the food of the wise is that which is consumed by the sadhus (holy men), it does not consist of meat... There may be some foolish people in the future who will say I permitted meat-eating and that I partook of meat myself, but meat-eating I have not permitted to anyone, I do not permit, I will not permit meat-eating in any form in future, in any manner and in any place. It is unconditionally prohibited for all."
- Lord Buddha

not so dalai lama

Visible said...

That doesn't surprise me, Homer. For decades I have been saying there is something off about that guy. I can't put my finger on it but every time I look at him I get this big flashing light that says, "insincere", "Insincere". I've been catching shit for it for years but I haven't budged.

I had lunch with this spiritual teacher on Maui at this nice restaurant in Paia. A former girlfriend of mine was in attendance. Later that day she came to me and said, "You know what he said about you after you left?" I thought, "Oh shit" and said, "No What?"

She replied, "He said, You can't bullshit that guy".

Visible said...

A lady sent this in to my Facebook page

Anonymous said...

Why does shit represent a form of evil? The loveliest creations available for knowing are enabled by this most slandered substance. It must be that something had to be dedicated to ignominy or we be deprived of a means of venting our discontents Shit doesn't get a lot of respect. In [subtly here] fact, the deployment and maintenance of a public attitude of abetting the recyclement of all things lies human universal salvation. Thanks for the forum, annd God bless Les. Chip Star

Visible said...

What a load of psychopathic shit.

Bonerhead- GOP leader just announced he is on board for mass murder in Syria with the natural assistance of Tribe member Eric Cantor. Here's an article that tells a side of history previously unrevealed..

Visible said...

Here's my man Putin, what's not to like?

Anonymous said...

DV at 4:03

That may have been the 1937 painting by Phillip Evergood:

http://msustudent.com/love.html

Mandocello

Visible said...

The American Zionist bitch machineis off the charts. Tribe member Boxer is presently selling more mass murdering Tribe bullshit.

Anonymous said...

I had a good friend back in the late 80's who was an "artist". The problem was, I'd look at his art, and it was simply crap. I didn't get it. It looked like smeared paint on a canvas. He had a loft in the richest part of Dallas, Texas, and I'd hang out with him there, or at this bar up the street, occasionally. The guy was featured in various Tribal rags (Newsweek, Time, etc.), and he was a Certified Big Deal in the MSM. Critics far and wide hailed his incredible artistic talents. So one night we're drunk, and we're at that bar up the street from his loft (this bar happens to be close to where JFK was killed, quick FYI), and I am bugging the crap out of him about his artwork, because he had never talked about how he actually created it. I had told him many times that I just didn't "get it", and thought there was something weird about the whole thing, come on, spill the beans and tell me what the deal is. I pestered him about it for months, he wouldn't budge. Finally, on this particular night, he was wasted enough to invite me back to his loft, in order to show me how the "master' actually worked. He took a canvas, and placed it on the floor. Then he grabbed some tubes of paint. He started squirting them on the canvas, like a little kid would do - no method involved, he just squirted the tubes willy-nilly. Then he took a second canvas, and placed it on top of the first one, and squished it down. He then pulled the top canvas away from the bottom one - voila! He now had TWO masterpieces - for the price of one. I shit you not, THIS is what art is all about, as Visible noted. Mindfucking the masses, dragging them down to curb level. When he showed me this, I remember him saying, "Can you believe I get six figures for one of these pieces of SHIT???" And then we laughed for about 10 minutes straight.

flyingcossack said...

in order to rule the world, it is not enough to conquest it ... you must convince the subjects that you deserve to rule

the main purpose of WWIII will be to paint jews as emancipators of the world ... peacebrokers between this fictional east-west (russia-america) war

undercover of this fake war, the jews will do what theyve done the previous two world wars ... and this is go nkvd on all the jew-wise people and areas ... so that the truth will never inhibit zion

problem is, the truth has propagated so far that there is no going back ... even many of the people that are still playing along, are aware of the zionist puppetmasters ... regardless what happens in the future, the future is going to be tribe-wise

the only long-term solution to this is to tell the truth and give back what youve taken with iniquity ... only question remains is whether zion does this tomorrow, or 500 million years from now

Rob in WI said...

Visible,
Had you published the porn novel, "Bibby Dershitz" would have been a good pseudonym. Surprised to see the spoof by James Petras. He's usually Mr. strictly business. Fun. Liked the Putin article, too.
Thanks, and be well, Rob

Anonymous said...

Mandocello,

Yes, that's the painting. I forgot about the third couple heading off into the unknown. Thar's lovin' in them thar dunes, by gosh! It looks better "in person" but the whole cartoonish aspect is what makes it work. For me, anyway.

DV

Visible said...

I knew this Russian Jew on Maui. In fact,his name is Elan Vitale. Anyone on Maui will know who I'm talking about. He put that big metal whale on the Kamaole Beach in Kihel. That was the warmup. A few years later, after I had come to be hanging out with him at odd moments, due to Wolfgang Keller who was the producer and half director of the Murder Mystery cast I belonged to. I was the Detective and this fellow who flew in from S.F. (gay) was the Host. Those are the two main roles that get the high pay. The rest of the cast got about ten percent of what we got.

I was also the other half of the director role and the writer of all of the skits. Wolfgang was a mortgage broker from S.F. We had our own restaurant in Kaanapali at a hotel complex. The shows were quite a success for awhile; congressmen and celebrities, really rich people attended.

This guy Elan Vitale was around. Some time passed and the next thing I knew he had opened the biggest art gallery previously seen on the island in Makawao. A year later he open this enormous gallery in Wailea. I used to stop in there after I had left Maui and during those couple of years we went back to visit. Sometimes I would see him sitting in there all alone, sipping wine. He'd insinuated himself into the higher realms of the art scene there. I knew most of those people. They would come to see me perform at various locations.

I got to see how he did his art. He had these chemicals. He told me about them and what he did was he poured them on to the canvas and let them dry. This took awhile. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Christian Lassen who was one of the most egotistical people I ever met was the big gun, he painted dolphins that looked like something off of silk screened T-shirts. It was one of the most bullshit scenes I had ever seen.

Elan had huge finances behind him. He liked to tell tales about building bridges in Brazil. I knew it was a cover story of some kind but... that thing about just pouring colors, without any idea of what would happen and not caring either, because the promotional apparatus was in place, that affected me. With them it is all about perception. If you can make people believe that you are inspired and you also look like you're successful, cause the money seems to be there and all the right places let you in and all the right manikins suck your dick, well, that's show biz.

It was all crap. I've met real artists. I know the difference. I know what it means to leave your mark, regardless of even being around to see it happen after. When you're good you're good and when you're shit, you're shit and I don't care what the press says. Time and the river will tell the tale. These pop tarts that are big in their day and completely forgotten even before they are gone, well, you do the math.

Real artists aren't even concerned about being remembered. They're so in love with what inspires them that they could care less. They know where the real appreciation takes place. They know. Real artists know what moves and maintains them. Real artists are humble tools of the only real artists there is. There is no other. I might not have much but I have this and I don't care what anyone thinks one way or the other, I'm just glad I'm me and not them.

Visible said...

By the way, that painting about Love on the Beach is a piece of shit, it's just more Tribe manufactured bullshit. Look at their feet and the perspective. Look at his other work. Look at he even got noticed in the first place. Sorry, that's just my two cents. I might be wrong but I don't think so. Like I said, I could be wrong but that looks like execrable shit to me.

Anonymous said...

via Homer..

It doesn't get any more real or surreal than this.

she's a beauty

Anonymous said...

Amen to that, Vis! It's the love of doing something that matters. If you never, at least once in your life, do something just for the sheer joy of it, you are not really living.

Van Gogh hardly sold anything while he was alive, but he got out there on location and produced a painting every day for ten years. He squirted his paint right out of the tube onto the canvas too, but then he did sublime things with it. My Dr. (while prescribing some magic psychotropic pills for me) said "you don't want to wind up like that guy...what's his name? Van Gogh". I said Oh hell yes I would. Any real artist would give his left nut for that. Not my left ear, though...

Bach's sheet music was used to wrap fish in, i.e. teated like scrap paper, after he was dead. His stuff didn't catch on until about 100 years after he was gone. So it goes.

Reminds me of Vonnegut's novel, "Breakfast of Champions". Kilgore Trout, the anti-hero of this book, looks at a painting during an awards presentation. It's title is something like "St. So-and-so and the Dragon", and it consists of a large solid green canvas with a stripe of orange tape across it. He muses that art is a conspiracy by rich people to make poor people feel stupid.

Anyway, it's Vonnegut's best novel, IMHO. Check it out.

DV

Anonymous said...

No shit, Visible. You are dead on, about what being a real artist is all about. That artist I mentioned whom I knew in Dallas, he was also doing ads for Seagram's whiskey in this big campaign they had going on back in the late 80's, early 90's. Seagram's would feature various male "celebrity studs" in their ads. Seagram's is owned by a big-time Satanist family, so it all makes sense when you connect the various dots. This guy had the world totally fooled - if you had seen the women who desperately tried to bed him, you would have been amazed (well, maybe not, women being malleable creatures and all, by and large). Mostly you'd be amazed because he was a complete drunk. Literally. He'd drink from the minute he awoke, and drink all day long. I never saw him sober, not once in about the four or five years we hung out together. He knew the whole thing was a scam (the art world), and I think he was miserable in a lot of ways, because he realized that he was basically just a drunk who had connections and no discernible talent. Anyway, I hadn't thought of him in years till I read your post, and I just now Googled him. He's still a big deal - bigger than ever. And his "artwork" has changed - now he draws what look like stick figures with crudely drawn fish and weird things all around in the background. Ha ha! No more squirting paints and pressing canvases together; now he paints things by hand, and they suck worse than his old shit did - and he's more famous than ever. Hell, he's no different than any other "well-known artist" in the world today. It's just as prevalent, if not more so, in the music business, I think. Hell, even in the literary world. All the "arts" were co-opted long ago. If a modern-day da Vinci stumbled on to the scene, there would be no room for him. "Hey, that guy's good - no way is he going to get an audience. Wait. Ask him if he can paint images of women copulating with greyhounds, maybe we'll get him some press." Sick shit. If it's good, it's good, and it will be remembered, long after the artist's death, even if it never gets media coverage. I have written and produced my own songs for years. Got a standard bullshit "contract" offer from Sony years ago. You know, they give you an advance and never release your shit. I passed on the offer. I just make music now and then because I feel the need to do it. I ran into someone I hadn't seen in years a while back. I had forgotten that I had given her a demo I produced about 16 years ago. (I only gave it to about 15 people, tops, mostly friends.) She said to me that it was still the first thing she listened to when she got up in the morning, and the last thing she listened to before she went to bed at night. Wow, was that humbling and gratifying, or what. And that is the reward, at least for me. Who cares about fame and money when it comes to art. If you have both, well, basically, you have nothing to say that is worth saying, am I right or am I right.

Visible said...

I read Breakfast of Champions at least twice. Kilgore Trout was quite the character. I was just thinking a few days ago how no one mentions Vonnegut anymore. I agree it was his best novel and I read all of them. Even though he was an atheist, I had to respect his talent.

"Oh hell yes I would. Any real artist would give his left nut for that. Not my left ear, though...

Bach's sheet music was used to wrap fish in, i.e. teated like scrap paper, after he was dead. His stuff didn't catch on until about 100 years after he was gone. So it goes." Very, very well said. I can tell you got the point and NO ONE, NO ONE who could compose like Bach was left in the dark about where that impetus came from. Never imagine he was not wreathed in joy.

I don't have anywhere near his talent and I am. One of the reasons I exhort people to read biographies is that people know so little about the actual lives and struggles of those who left such masterpieces for our edification and consideration. I used to sing Bach's folk songs in a four part choral group. I don't think most people even know about these compositions. Who knows about his Invention #13 or his sacred cantatas? Sure, people in the area of musical composition might but the rank and file? Nada.

I'd hip people to more of what I have been privileged to stand transfixed in awe about but part of me has given up on the human race. I hate to say it but it's true. I don't worry for myself, I'm covered but... I do worry about them.

Visible said...

The pretentious commentators always make me laugh. It's not his greatest work by any means but there's something about it that always gets me.

Visible said...

You are right but... what I know is that the angels hear and Lady Nature hears and I only ever did what I did for them anyway. It was always about them and I was told once that angels took my work to ear of God; not cause I was any good but because of the sincerity of the message. I used to go into the woods, still do and sing up the trunks of trees and out on to the branches and leaves and I could feel my voice skirting like the sap through the flesh and bark of the trees.

I saw some things in nature that I don't talk about much, suffice to say, you have to be fixed about who your audience is.

When I listen to Bach, i don't listen to him with a modern ear, he sounds repetitive and redundant but I know he didn't sound that way then. I try to listen to how it sounded then and who he was composing for.

The first thing she listened to in the morning and the last thing at night? There is no higher compliment.

est said...

-
ha
i was hitching out west ['78]
on the mass turnpike

when a guy pulled over
in a green vw bug

his only question was:
can you drive a four speed ?

of course i said, yes and i
immedetialy began to drive

he went right to sleep
and after a few hours

we pulled up at a resturant
where he bought me a grilled cheese

he explained to me > veggie-ism
the only other thing i remember

about the drive, was he said he was
in a monastery with kurt vonnegut

i've read them all, also
and so it goes...
-

Visible said...

I once heard someone say something like, "Beethoven performed the majesty of God as man and Bach portrayed the majesty of God as God."

Anaughty Mouser said...

Rothschild leads zionism, who tells the puppet US government to use its military to work together with the zionist state incarnate of israel to attack Syria, Iran and Lebanon to further the plan for a new world order where all gentiles are slaves or dead. That the chemical weapons' false flag is an outright lie is of no consequence to the planned war by Rothschild and company.
Will Russia and China allow this to happen given they know full well they are next on Rothschild and his minions' list to be destroyed?
I don't think so.
Result: WW3

neal said...

Kurt was not atheist, he just did not believe in any God Who does not time travel. He figured it out after 911, I do not know if that stuck before the fact. Stuff like that shows up in various musings, never know when or where.

Once I dropped acid and showed up at a marsh preserve on the Platte River, NE. A million snow geese.

Later, I tried to find it, ended up sitting on a nuclear missile silo, there was more than one. Stayed in uniform, cast my lot with the nuclear protesters, height of the Cold War.

Even the spooks were impressed, it was still F Troop, I think I have been banned for life, whenever.

Anonymous said...

Yes, it was a hell of a compliment that she paid me. More than I'd ever hoped when it came to expecting any sort of kudos for the paltry tunes that I had written. Once I was standing near a train station in Portland, Oregon, waiting for a commuter train. These skate punks were skateboarding nearby, and they would whisk past me within inches, trying to intimidate me. I was listening to a song I had just recorded earlier that day on a cassette player, with some head phones (this was back when cassettes were still around - wink). One of the punks came up to me directly, stopped his board within inches of my feet, and said in a condescending voice, while sneering, "What are you listening to, Dad?" (I was about 40 at the time - heh, "Dad".) So something compelled me to do this, not sure what it was, I just went with it. Took the head phones off and said to the kid, who was about 19, "It's a song I just recorded at a recording studio. Wanna listen?" He put the head phones on, listened for about 30 seconds, and started crying. The song was about loss. About losing a woman who meant more than life. So I aked him why he was so affected by the song, and he said that he had experienced the same exact thing, virtually, that was described in the song - he came home one day, and everything was gone in the apartment except his girlfriend's wedding dress (he was engaged to her, and she just bolted, leaving the dress). So by this time the train was pulling up, I got the cassette player and head phones back from him, and as I stepped on the train, he literally screamed at me, still standing on the platform, "What's your name, man. What is the name of that album you are doing - I have GOT to have that song!" I told him my name but it wouldn't have done him any good anyway, it wasn't going to be available to the masses. And then the doors closed. I remember his face, he was so...upset, and yet, I had affected him in a positive way, so had the song. Anyway, maybe 20 people have heard my music. Most of them are friends and family, and they just flat-out didn't believe that I created it. I write everything, play everything, sing everything, arrange it all, produce it all, just like you. So I stopped letting friends and family listen. I just periodically produce songs, and now I do it because of the stillness it creates in my mind. It's a way for me to store up power, like a battery, and then visualize what I want to create, if that makes sense. Beyond music, I mean. A side-effect of the process, at least for me, is being able to hold something tightly in my mind's eye, so as to create it, down the road. Literally create the event. Wild shit, and it makes the act of making music itself seem tame in comparison. Anyway, that's the deal from my end. Art is a doorway to something unfathomable. I think most of us sense that on a visceral level, even if we can't articulate it. And yes, I have given up on most members of the human race, too, but...what made me think that they were human to begin with? I think most people are in different stages of development, wearing a mask at all times, and some aren't even human at all; some are, but they are locked in on their private parts and the gratification of basic desires. Makes sense to me. It's all about breaking the fuck out of this prison, via personal evolution, I think. Yes, we are all stars in the making. Literally.

Anonymous said...

Huge Bach fan here. Wrote term papers on him, etc. Used to practice on some of his two-part inventions, back when I was halfway good on a piano. Played some of his organ music too. Later on I did some Bach on synthesizers, a-la Walter/Wendy Carlos.

One of the more sublime experiences of my life was sitting in a cathedral in Knoxville, listening to a pipe organ recital. High vaulted ceiling and stone columns, just like in Europe. Almost no one else was there listening, just me and some school mates. They can't really reproduce that sound and that experience through recordings.

A couple of years later, during a summer job that had me driving around Knoxville, I got to stop in that same cathedral and play that very same organ myself, about an hour every day. I just walked in and asked, and they let me have the key. And there was NOBODY but me and the pipe organ. Man oh man!

A 48-rank Aeolian-Skinner, with three manuals. Church Street United Methodist Church, for anyone who is into pipe organs and lives in that area. I heartily recommend it.

For an example of someone who made Bach soar, try the late Virgil Fox. My organ instructor told me to wash my mouth out with soap when I mentioned his name. And, wouldn't you know it, he was a flamer.

"So it goes"...

DV

Ginnie said...

Maybe we just aren't speaking the "language of the realm" to the Zio-ogres. If we all dropped acid and found their favorite watering hole, crawled up on the bar then proceeded to "communicate by means of tap dancing and farting", we might make them understand!
Alas! They too suffer from "bad chemicals" just like Kilgore.

I have been having a great time in my head ever since the mention of "Breakfast of Champions" read it on Venice beach mid 70's. Thank you Kurt V.

Anonymous said...

Let's not forget Mozart.

Mandocello

Boulderdash said...

Can it be that Pope Francis lining up behind...

Putin?

He is calling for a day of fasting and prayer on Sept. 7 for peace in Syria.

Interesting times indeed.

Boulderdash said...

By the way, your "interesting times"
dovetails right into the theme of your new novel. I am about a third into the book and I am hooked. Definitely a page turner, although of the digital variety.

Ray B. said...

Vis: "The pretentious commentators always make me laugh."

There's a TV-show where singers are 'judged' by a small panel, most notably a woman and a jerk Englishman. One of my most favorite moments of all time was when (a few years back) they invited a young, reserved teenager on stage to sing. The judge lady's lip literally curled back. Then, the teen let go with a magnificent voice. The audience was absolutely mesmerized. (I even watched it on YouTube a half dozen times or so.) The judge lady literally reared back in her seat, like she had been handed a snake. Even jerk Englishman was left without words, a state he clearly didn't like.

For once, a real 'talent' moved around all the censors and was heard. I was so glad...

---

Vis: "I saw some things in nature that I don't talk about much..."

Definite grin. When you can sense 'presence', you are halfway there...

---

Vis: "Here's my man Putin, what's not to like?"

I have a very 'odd' story around Putin that is absolutely unverifiable, but I thought I'd share it anyway. When I 'interrogate' my Higher Self about people, the most interesting stories are the ones that I'd have trouble dreaming up myself.

With Putin, my Higher Self said that when he was 'picked' for top leadership positions by high-level bad-guys, his soul was literally taken out of his body and 'stored' elsewhere. Another was entered in.

Later, when the coalition was doing it's thing, Putin's soul was put back in his body. This was around the time when you started hearing good, wise things coming from Putin. Unprovable, but interesting...

Best Wishes,
Ray B.

Visible said...

Boulderdash; I'm glad you like it, given my opinion of your opinion (grin).
..................................
1:11- nice timing there! Wow! I can't figure out why you wouldn't make your music more readily accessible. Things like that are usually an indication of the authority to do so. Good tales.

..............................

1:21 I'm of the opinion that since most people's souls don't soar, they aren't moved by music that does. Good on you for having those opportunities and taking them. It's too bad some of us right on this very page don't get the chance to compose together, I imagine just we few could make some telling creations.

.................................

Ray; I don't know about any of that. Quite simply, I don't know. What I have seen is what Putin has done AFTER being put into office by those he scorched in following times. I've had my Putin moments for years. First when that Russian journalist told me that he had it on good authority that Putin had read Smoking Mirrors (or did read it). then, when I had my experiences in Italy (holy shit! to that) and various deities showed up on the backyard, there was Putin, standing in a dark suit off by the cactus apple plant, quietly watching. I can't remember now if we spoke. I spoke to all of the others but don't remember if we spoke. He was by himself except for a taoist sage who was standing near him. Satan and the anti-Christ were standing up on the patio by the planter but on the other side of some brush.

Down of the field below was most everyone I've had contact with over the years. I still can't get over the hyper-real experiences of that 5-6 week time stretch that ran from night to day to night and included a two week period where I never slept and thought I wouldn't ever have to again. That was an amazing period. I haven't seen the like since.

Anonymous said...

Anybody else find it odd that Ariel Castro - who allegedly abducted, imprisoned, raped, and tortured young women in Ohio - "hanged himself" in his jail cell? This case has all the earmarks of the cases involving Gary Heidnik and Marc Dutroux, to name just a couple. Both of those guys were abducting, imprisoning, raping, torturing and murdering young women - as well as pimping out sex slaves for the well-heeled pillars of society (so they could rape, torture and murder them). I'll bet you a buck Castro was doing the same thing. Thus, he "hanged himself" in his cell. What do you want to bet his house is leveled soon, and some new building is erected on the land. It's probably already happened. Anybody know of any Internet articles that bark up this particular tree - can't seem to find any yet. Hopefully somebody will piece it together soon. Where is Dave McGowan when you need him...

Visible said...

A new Visible Origami is up now-

Harridans and Soulless Whores in the Flotsam and Jetsam Tanks.

Old reader who is now worried about 'loo privacies...... said...

That link for the toilet excamination with audio in Israel, its a spoof, from Intifada Palestine. Thank goodness. I mean, ew! But i bet it will be real one day.

Old reader, wild rider said...

Only time i tasted hallucigens......we got something good, and kind, and gentle, and gave us a couple full days of endless amazement. Unbelievable. Life altering. We also drove to chicago, and went on what was then the nations biggest full circle roller coaster. I have had an unending diehard fear of heights since birth, and an even bigger fear of roller coasters. We walked in, rode it, i kept my eyes wide open, and watched every tiny detail of the ride, almost in a kind of timeless high-low speed as it traveled. I rode it several more times, each time revealing new facets of the ride, the environment, the experience.

Wish i could say that all that beauty and experience was for later good, but when we left, we got lost and ended up in a certain notorious part of chicago, after dark, on a weekend evening. One of our carload, tim, was hit in the right eye by a stray bullet as we passed through an area, trying desperately to find our way out. Steve hit the gas pedal while tim sat there stunned, not realizing a damned bullet had just decimated his eyeball and socket and now lay bleeding in his brain at the back of his head. Laura and i dragged tim over the seat to the back as the car screeched thru crazy side streets, and we used our tie dyed tshirts to stem the blood. Eventually, we found a spanish gas station tat was able to call for an ambulance. Tim lived. Sans one eye and socket. His waist length long gold hair was shaved off. They removed the bullet, but he was left with some mental issues and massive crushing headaches ever since. This was 1977. At least he had a first trip and a good trip. The rest of us hadnt the heart to do it again. We felt we had somehow put our friend into that cosmic position of the bullet. Even if we didnt, we couldnt shake the thought.

But i carried a far bigger lesson from this.......a roller coaster is only frightening if you keep your eyes closed, and if you do not analyze and watch every facet possible, and if you do not use your knowledge gained to ride it again and again, until you have mastered the beast. Eyes open, no fear.

Old reader musing a lot said...

....that cosmic position of the bullet. I look back. Were we supposed to,get lost that night? Why?

The thing i was most afraid of was heights and roller coasters. The thing steve was most afraid of was being left alone. Laura was forever afraid she would lose tim. Tim was afraid of nothing. Nor was he a daredevil. He was a true gentle free spirit, harmless, happy, loving, and free. Maybe he got the best end of the experience, after all? Til his death, he was truly free from all that holds us back. He never had to be a corporate tim, or a responsible tim, or a grown up tim or a troubled tim. And he got to take morphine til his death, for the pains in his injured brain. Hm.

insiam said...

i recall watching an interview with the DL sometime ago in which he stated (with that stupid grin and irritating voice) 'George Bush he very nice and velly good man - velly good friend to me'.

personaly i didnt need to look any further re. what this guy stood for. He is either severly retarded or evil. My money is on the latter.

I also read (i think it may have been here) that he is afraid or butterflys ( actually that would be moths ). So what does that say!

I also greatly admire Putin. Ther are so many Russian tourists and expats here in Thailand these days. By far they are a good looking, sturdy, well adjusted, fit, family oriented, race. In contrast the Americans are a weird, fat, loud mouthed, ugly, freaked out bunch of twats - hehe :)

How strange that we live in a world in which an person with two functioning brain cells now sees Russia as the force for good and America as the great satan.

Visible said...

A new Smoking Mirrors is up now-

The Nocturnal Bot Flies of the Apocalypse.