JUPITER

SUCKS

GODSPEED! YOU BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

&

in jupiter

Brecht

the good woman of setzuan

lovin’ theater lately

the party

Music up. A sort of abstracted fuck-ballet, the figures distinct in the spot, the room barely there as yet. The fuck is bad. Joe is frozen: Angie goes down with her lips. He kneels for a while, inert, takes it; then imperceptibly draws away from her. Music down; lights up. The bedroom.

Henceforth they show him their affection. 

He is their child. He is their man.

They paint his room when he vacates it.

And shed tears in the whitewash can.

And when he feeds, Oh, they are merry!

Beaming, they munch his excrement.

He sees that they are wearing black if

His dog perchance has met his end. 

Dining Hall

In a dream I saw myself in Goethe’s study. It bore no resemblance to the one in Weimar. Above all, it was very small and had only one window. The side of the writing desk abutted on the wall opposite the window. Sitting and writing at it was the poet, in extreme old age. I was standing to one side when he broke off to give me a small vase, an urn from antiquity, as a present. I turned it between my hands. An immense heat filled the room. Goethe rose to his feet and accompanied me to an adjoining chamber, where a table was set for my relatives. It seemed prepared, however, for many more than their number. Doubtless there were places for my ancestors, too. At the end, on the right, I sat down beside Goethe. When the meal was over, he rose with difficulty, and by gesturing I sought leave to support him. Touching his elbow, I began to weep with emotion.

It is you that I always find

halfway through a glass

of Reisling or gin

on exertion

One smokes, one defiles oneself, drinks oneself silly,
One sleeps and one grins into some naked face.
For Father Time’s tooth gnaws too slowly, old fellow!
One smokes and one shits and one makes up some verse.

Unchastity often our innocence sweetened
(Unchastity, poverty: these are our vows).
What a man has practiced in God’s sunshine
Is what he atones for in God’s good earth.

The brain’s made a whore of delight in the body
Into rude hairy fingers untwisting our claws.
Sensations of sunshine can’t penetrate parchment
Or skin that, like parchment, is callous and hard.

…

a canonical descent into the knowledge of Being

What I have read of the ‘canon’ thus far:

      Assyria and Babylonia

• -The Babylonian account of creation
• -The Chaldean Flood Story
• -The Legend of Sargon
• -Ishtari descnet into the Nether World
• -Peritential Hymns
• -Ancient Babylonian Laws

     Ancient Egypt

• The Book of the Dead
• Hymn to the Nile
• Observations by Herodotus

    The Brahmanic Tradition

• The Rig-Veda
• The Upanishads
• The Bhagavad-Gita
• The Yoga-Sutras of Pantajali 

    Classical Greek

• The Iliad
• The Odyssey
• The Theogony of Hesiod
• The Works and Days

Probably going to be struggling through the Classical Greek scripture/philosophy until August. Cheers!

is ontology fundamental?

The comedy begins with the simplest of our movements, each of which carries with it an inevitable awkwardness. In putting out my hand to approach a chair, I have creased the sleeve of my jacket. I have scratched the floor, I have dropped the ash from my cigarette. In doing that which I wanted to do, I have done so many things I did not want. The act has not been pure, for I have left some traces.