beans and space, swine-wed
Beans are a recurring motif in my writing and picture making these days. Also, the new cat farts like no cat I have ever been farted at by.
Lines of repetition make my life venetian blind and I’ve been bumping into things a lot. I finally read (sort of) or re-read Pound’s Canto I and found the word “swine-wed” (misread from wine-red?)very marriageable. The parts I like are the kennel things all over the piles of language:
lynx-purr (I just mistyped that as lynx-puff)
and somewhere in my reading came across “human bean” but can’t retrieve it… apparently it is also a coffee house…
While loathingly working on my project in animating the infamous late Gu Cheng, came across a quote on Jackie Wang’s website through which the drumbeat of his name tumbled and in my experience her ballerinas dance with machine guns has really been a place of strong energy transfer and then of course,
To write my poems,” Khanan Zhuai remembered, “I listened to everything.” He continued: “I would go into the rainforest and sit for hours to listen to the trees and the birds that live on different branches of the trees. I used the sounds of different birds to convey human emotions. For instance, the cry of the cuckoo, gu? gu! gu? gu!, is heartbreaking, and I use it to stand for human suffering.
— Song and Silence: Ethnic Revival on China’s Southwest Borders
I found this poor dead bird on the way to campus and it was clean and soft and yellow, but it wasn’t decomposing because it was on cement, so I took it home. I plan to bury it. Right now the bird spirit is in the fridge inside a tea box.
Gu came to me again in a dream. When my friends ignore me, I slap dreams in their faces.
Little do you know that only in dream are you not in exile.
It is where I have loved you and the cry of the cuckoo
I could say that the cancer that falls off the bird is a journey towards perfection
that now the bird is perfect
but I don’t tell the truth nor does the truth tell me.
It is 11 degrees out. Celcius. I think. I’m not going anywhere. Also, David Lynch twated:
What is this UNIFIED FIELD of sacred bulls pooping?
I believe that we are all a part of the unified field of insanity, made flesh, the uniform field of fog-o-war and fog-o-war and poetry. I enjoyed this comment to the article… it’s probably my favorite part actually:
Thanks or the article, but it requires Americans to think beyond their own selves, if it could be accomplished it would be a Miracle in itself.
“your self-review is up at WWAATD today:
I love it!
And friends far away, I miss you all and unite with you in the unified field.