Canto XII maybe Crispus was like Zorba in that he kicked ass on his father’s behalf but his father could not fathom his love of the zither so the instrument of their parting “strummed once, twice, then hung” sd/ Ankh-haf “I don’t think he’s ever grown up” and “I can’t be a lumberjack” Molyneux sd/ Jimmy the Dane ate the blond hash before the rest of us could smoke it then Ankh-haf the Vizier shat it so we could smoke it again he asked that his last name be withheld so he shite it “the saddest thing in life is Harold Ramis and Bill Murray not getting together for laughs anymore” sd/ Jimmy the sorrow I feel for Dasius and Crispus is linked to my sadness at my mother’s passing both men served the emperor admirably yet were sacrificed through some fluke of irrationality linked inexorably to the irrationality capturing mother’s mind in Alzheimer’s even the notion of a mind captured suffers from the irrationality of dualism since no mind can be captured from our body which possesses it utterly and inseparably even Yeats’ spiritus mundi is a laughable concept where the force suffuses us open other end open other end refrigerate after opening I only have eyes for you trompe l’oeil cassus belli blood for oil yellowcake for redman yellowman for red velvet cake Ivan for Blue Man Group harlequin for Pablo Blue Boy for King George oxygen for Kerryman nitrogen for Kennewick Man NAGPRA blows Burke Museum NPCA blows Park Service ARPA blows eBay Dubyah munching Bologna rolled around marshmallows JH sd/ queer sushi for an emperor duck emperor and Donald Ritchie rich beyond your dreams pit us against each other ich bin laden mit Kriegkraft Seek not for the rock of gall here it has departed another multiverse blended unbegotten o nimis
optato saeclorum tempore nati bogus bogisatva guarding the door of the womb tell Avalokiteshvara to void clear light tell Uspensky the tomatoes are ripe water them less and let the sun pull them to fullness as the temporal has temptations written in red sauce around our eggplants called minds listen to folks from Parma deep in the fields sheep bleat joy later written as cheese swept to high hardness and aged Latin body swapping works better than brain bandying or so we’re told in Mary Shelley’s treatise Easter wake napalm Sunday island shift volcano goddess quake god sea god rhythm up up for ages six to twelve to six deep healing deep heat langsam Doctorsan Nosun No Sinking god rising god simmer ten minutes until tender god bone gnawing god barbecue goddess charcoal manifestations reed breather first world to the roof of the second world drawn up up rhythm fire goddess Zorba set dharma at hearth stone burn with rain dry in snow bake at 350 for 40 minutes until tooth pick comes out clean then layer with cream cheese frosting and dot with cherries and chocolate stars O mighty Bud ha Giv us utmost lack ease our want below the hearth wood melts below the hearth ash melts below the hearth swords melt Liv dharma deep within fire Zorba deep litany win fire altar man woman sing w/o rain thundermouth begin lack begin want win swords melt dharma deep deep sansui high high show fire show snow melt dharma win altar Henry B. was hit in the head and killed last weekend while coming about then knocked into the bay off Annapolis where mines and tanks and planes and rich men who pit us against other men that have no cow in W’s corral where our next meal will come not from breasts not out of our sweat either but from blood and steel welded in disconnectedness here we are split and split again state against state poor vs. poor “Holy shit!” sd/ Moskowitz “Everything is easy until you get to the Byzantine Empire. It’s impossible. One emperor is always killing the other, and everyone has five wives or three husbands. It’s very Byzantine.” whether Constantine felt guilt (whether Bassus felt guilt) damnatio memoriae official dementia
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Thoughts on Pattern Recognition by William GibsonOneTwo Three Four Five
cantosIII III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI
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