Kanon Wakeshima - Lolitawork Libretto ～Storytelling by solita～.flv

23 thousand cricket revolution

     -As with nearly everything that is done on this  foggy brogg  the following can be taken either of two ways. Also I will indicate the subject of the post at least three or four times  as experience dictates this is necessary  - the  fault, such as it is, lies not with you or I but in the contrast of cognitive assumptions.

           If you're familiar with the ninja concept this will not be too difficult to understand. Invisibility in that case lies not in the implantation of contrary thought waves, as in the case of the tibetan Format, but rather in the manipulation of the body into shapes  and places  we do not expect to find it it. Also there are certain breathing exercises that confound our assumptions of what is humanly possible.

         Anyway this "missive" is both an historical observation of what we might call human contra- heirarchal
tendencies and a plea, or perhaps reminder that those who may seem to know things, and be self assured often run out of things to say. Artists may have funny habits, they may be weird - but at the end of the day they have something to say    - and here's a little secret the weirdness is something we often cultivate, fully aware of how difficult it is to create in the face of the received wisdom of others.

          We begin with Julius Caesar, who fought all the armies of northern europe only to come home and be slaughtered by his own people, including Brutus, whom some suggest was his own son.  the thing there was he was taking the money stolen in his wars to become popular with the masses and the elites hated him for that so in the name of democracy they killed him. Funny huh?  Then again he managed to start numerous wars on the pretext of defending the roman empire which was nonsense - he wanted their gold.

            His killers on the other hand didn't need his gold - they had power and slaves  both of which they had no interest of giving away.

Twenty Three thousand Cricket Revolution

The story of the bloody assassination of Julius Caesar is well known to all, especially schoolboys and devotees of the historical plays of William Shakespeare. It’s pretty much taken for granted what happened. There are one or two minor questions also though however. Was Brutus, knife wielder and bloody butcher, perhaps unbeknownst to himself the child of the erstwhile tyrant?

Regicide – the cruel crime. Patricide –also a cruel crime.

But life goes on doesn’t it? And in a few years we forget the horrors that brought about the present day and learn to accept things as they are, not as we would like them to be.

Basically , for them what don’t know the background of the true events concerning this story and are interested in politics here’s what happened.

Ceasar was becoming very popular with the masses of Rome because he was spreading the wealth around. He was giving out money left and right. Where did he get the money? It’s like this - nations go to war because they want something. Japan and Germany wanted empires like Great Britain and the result was World War Two.

To justify their going to war nations claim they are only defending their people from others who would make life harsh on them. That’s what Ceasar did. He’d attack countries and cities so small that they aren’t even remembered today and claim it was self defence.

Actually Europe north of Italy had a lot of mines, and gold mines among them. Julius took the gold he made from killing the northerners and bought the love and affection of the people of Rome. It’s not exactly rocket science, if you know what I mean.

The old line wealthy Romans didn’t like this one bit. What was happening ( and it hurts me to say this, but I must tell the truth) is Julius Ceasar, like Ronald Reagan was doing an end run around the political establishment.

It all come down to who makes the decisions and that all comes down to who has the power. Having thought and contemplated these realities for a while now I kinda no longer think about whether it’s the man or the circumstances that can be pointed to as historical determinants. When the times demand they call forth a man, or puppet and this Ceasar, or Napolean, turns away from what is often a quite nice life, to become the big boss man.

In the case of the assassination of Ceasar the conspirators we may suggest over did things. But off hand, what else were they to do? It was said that Ceasar was named in half the divorce cases in Rome so the guy was more then a little out of control, maybe.

Did it work? Did the assassination of the big swinging dick make tings good? I dunno. It’s not my problem. History tells us what happened. Ceasars nephew, Augustus, eventually took over.

Before that the crowd, which had lost it’s big time sugar daddy had to be made pissed off. Shakespear imagined what happened , I imagine. He has Mark Anthony deliver a funeral oration where Anthony, or Antonius, I suppose, actually, pretends at first to buy into the killers motivation. He says that they were honorable men.

There are certain unwritten rules of assassination, especially of assassination of leaders. Number one is it has to be done in public. It’s can’t be done at night. The murder is in effect a coup de tat, or change of head of state. When Alexanders father Philip was killed it was in front of hundreds of people.

In the mob hits of today if you are a nobody you just disappear, but if you are a capo, or whatever, the killing is supposed to be done in public, often at restaurants , after a good meal, for instance.

The fact that several prominent Romans were all there to stick in the knife is also proof of their goodwill. They did not hide but sought to express the will of the people. As it happens the will of the people is sometimes debatable. And Anthony goes on in two directions at one.

He keeps saying how wonderful Ceasar was and then Brutus kills him but Brutus was nevertheless an honorable man. I tell you it don’t make no sense, but the crowd gets the picture. Brutus is soon a very unpopular man.

About two thousand years after the events I just described to you I’m, hanging out with My friend Joe L. He’s a year older then me and I look up to him in many things with the major exception that I think Phil Spector is God, and he’s fond of Dave Van Ronk.

We’re artists. We were also bohemians, or as much as we could be in high school while still living with the parents. As well we have some ideas that have not stood the test of time all that well. This was in the days of Steppenwolf, the book and Siddhartha and the whole notion that one could become “enlightened”.

(To flash forward somewhat, I clung to the investigation of these heroes, if only because those around me seemed so pathetic in comparison but I must confess, after these many years and many travels around the globe that the reality is both more and less then what it first seems to be. What we have are words and words alone could never describe the true experience. What is perhaps interesting is the words are all created quite logically and go back to original origins.

Ergo “El Sid” is the the commander, the majestic one. Arthur is the king, specifically the wounded king and the term itself, which we associate most often with the king Arthur stories, and be traced to the Egyptian “Osirus”.

One other thing, or aspect of the duality is we may associate “seekers” with naked guys sitting in the dust but once you travel further down that motioneless path youn come upon the rider, resplendent in silks and furs who’s very presence is incense and who voice rivals the tiny bells that herald entrance to the divine realm,)

Suffice to say, sitting on streetcorners, watching cars go by, Joe and I had no idea of the fruition of self knowledge. Basically I thought enlightenment would help me out to get better grades. Especially I thought if I could see into the cosmic river where all things from the beginning of time continue to exist it seemed likely to be of advantage in taking a history test.

Joe didn’t look at things like that. To him enlightenment was Adam and Eve, naked in the garden, sitting and sporting neath a waterfall. All I knew was if, for instance, my parents had ever been naked together neath a waterfall, it sure wasn’t anything they’d want to talk about.

Then came the fateful day. It was a day like anyone and little did I suspect that when I closed my eyes to sleep that evening I would be a forever changed person. I can’t begin to remember what we were talking about when the inspiration struck.

“What if”, said Joe, ”What if all the idiots and the people we think of as hopelessly lost in the material world are actually the enlightened ones and we who seek the truth of truth are the deluded ones?”

It was at this point we parted company. He got a goofy look on his face and kept repeating, “You know, you know, what if swimming pools are like, you know, the abode of the Gods?” More such rubbish poured from his mouth and mind. I smiled and seemed to go go along with this heresy but inside I was not moved.

“Only through the relinquishement of all desire can the transubstantion of the soul into unity with the god head be achieved” In this I was firm

Another friend had dedicated years to owning a GTO and claimed to find true bliss merely by crusing the local streets but event in such chariots I would not be swayed from the pathless path.

But Joe did have a point. The people with the houses and families and jobs and such did seem comparatively happy –even if they were zombie idiots. I had to acquiesce. I had to admit that the straights might be on to something, but still maintained whatever it was, I wanted no part of it.

Joe was a nice guy and I didn’t want to dissolude him. In my imaginary wallet however was the imaginary all totem. It was the opposite of a get out of jail card.

Death.

Mark Twin once said something that had to surprise a few. He said Adam did at least one good thing. He brought death into the world.

Long long ago. Purposes unfulfilled causes unaffected futility – you name it.

So, let’s talk about face book. Let’s talk about online community. Let’s talk about death.

Humm, which of the preceeding three sentances is out of place?

Look . if you have nothing of consequence to say I don’t fault you – at least you are decent and honest enough to admit it to yourself.

It’s like this. Church going, hardworking, folk are nice enough but they tend to forget they are human and what is worse, they tend to forget that others are human. It’s easy to be a tight assed hypocrite and never get in trouble. And never have to reach out to anyone.

Why does the devil have the best toons? Because the Devil is one of us.

I learned this very slowly and very painfully, coming as I do from the heart of suburbia, where lying is not only considered good sport, but a moral achievement and those unable to lie well are spat upon, kicked and left to lie in the gutter.

Don’t forget the egotists motto - “Do as I say and not as I do” Mankind will always fall for the wicked because the wicked tell them what to do and they themselves are incapable of independent thought.

Consider the scientific method, which simply put say you seek to disprove your idea before someone else does. In cleanland the reply to that suggestion would be

“Why would you wanna do that? Don’t you want to put your best foot forward?”

In other words you can do no wrong until someone catches you and even then there’s a fifty percent chance they will be willing to listen to a little reasonable bribe.

The store never says “Item will break one week after warrantee expires” and should a salesman mention it they’d soon be out of a job.

That’s why it pays to be enlightened, to some degree or another, when you’re in the creative business – because then you don’t care what people think.

Actually the idea just occurred to me but it’s a little like being a cop. The average person may do a little blow every now and then, and screw his neighbors wife, every now and then, hell the average cop is liable to have the same faults but we always feel uncomfortable sitting around telling stories when theres a cop there – especially if the story is an ongoing one.

Who was that court painter? Went deaf? Goya .

Here he lived and worked around the Spanish royal court when times were tough. One can imagine the princesses saying “Make it look like me, only prettier.”

On the pickup circuit that can be done.

Praise and worship are endless

Thursday nights are endless as is Television

Taxes are eternal

Life is finite

You can bullshit your boss but you can’t bullshit a blank page.

Then again…

It is said by story tellers that every child, prior to birth is given the choice of either a short glorious life or a long uneventful one. Ceasar was not a lead from the front take charge kind of general in the mode of Achilles or Alexander. He was a Roman, meaning his advantage was always in technological superiority.

Even there one could suggest that the true Roman advantage came not from technological innovation, but from the ability to appropriate what it wanted and needed from others. Ultimately this stems from a complex language which in turn stems from people associating with one another. We covered this already in regards to Mckenna’s theory of the origins of language being in communal orgies which predated the existence of cities by many thousands of years.

Ceasar, who did not live a long life, was murdered by those who wished to live long lives, even uneventful lives. They did not wish to be disturbed. There’s an interesting point that Russell highlights.

In the bible it says that fear of the lord is the beginning of wisdom, as if to be a thorn in the believers side, Bertrand says that the conquering of fear is the beginning of wisdom. I would not dare to choose which is correct.

As I often say, “You pays your ticket, you takes the ride.” Translation: “You cannot have it both ways, You cannot serve both the Lord and Satan at the same time.”

I’ve got to be careful. Twain it is said went from St Petersburg (heaven) to Aussville ( Ass ville) in the course of a lifetime observing human behavior. Personally I wish to put in a good word for the human race. (The fact that I hope them to someday pay me a very large stipend for kissing their asses has *nothing* to do with this.)

Humans are… Well they are often clean. They dream and want to make a better world for their children. Umm, that’s enough, don’t want to get carried away.

Let me put what I am trying to say in yet another way. We are in conversation with the world. To do this, to have this conversation we exchange information about our selves with the world. That is how it is done. If there’s any other method I do not know of it.

Yet the one who wishes to live a long life must, as we have said, pay for his or her longevity. They have upon their hearts a sign that says “Do not disturb.” In other words – “Go away.” Maybe there’s something good on TV – who knows?

Such persons, which account for the vast majority of human kind, suffice to say have little to say.

They have taken the notion of fear of the Lord, who is if anything made manifest in other people, deep into their tiny little hearts. It’s not a big deal. I suggest two aspirin and call me in the morning if the pain is still there.

There is however a certain case where exceptional measures must be taken. As the Japanese say the nail that stands out is hammered in, and so too the person of exceptional ability, of beauty, of an open heart, has got to be carefull because they make everyone else look like the miserable little creeps they are in comparison.

And if there’s one thing miserable creeps know it is that they like being in control of things. They have a right to it, after all they sacrifice joy, love and quite often their own families for the privilege of occupying a throne.

We also can look at things in terms of dragons. To restate what we already spoken of, dragon, or water/fire lizards are symbols of primordial forces, of the power of nature to get what she wants.

Among the killers of Caesar there may have well been a few aggrieved would be suitors of women who might otherwise become lovers of the tyrant. By killing Caesar they eliminated a potential sexual rival. That’s the dragon at work.

Shamens know all about dragons. Eskimo shamens have been known to kill not only their mother in law and father and law but the rest of their brides immediate family – just to show who’s boss. Sound familiar?

The thing with dragons is often they accumulate vast stores of gold and jewels which, to protect from thieves, they sleep upon. It is not a comfortable bed. Some, like billionaires, give the stuff away, but most don’t and die there.

The key thing is that every person has some amount of natural energy even if only enough to stay alive and what we do with it is up to us.

   I do warn the reader again however that just because they have an open heart and good intentions doesn’t mean others feel the same way. People rarely take knives and plunge them into the hearts of others. But they don’t always have to. Sometimes the thought is enough.

      I don’t know whatever happened to Joe. We lost touch as soon as we went to different colleges. He was a com-padre. In other words while he was willing to admit the possibility of life in suburbia he didn’t go so far as to claim there was any evidence of it.

       My feeling and observations are not the ones you get from TV. TV tells a different story of people who never hide in their homes. One last story from the anthropologists field study book.

It is not unusual, in fact it is the norm, to find in otherwise illiterate tribes there is a basic repository of legends and tales of they who have gone before. What brings a smile to the face of the intrepid explorer is one can often tell what the story will say by who tells it.

           So in a tribe which has many tales of wise old men we discover that the primary tale tellers are in fact, the older men. 

            Guess what? Even today in a fancy society like the US there's old men with power and money and they still don't want to give it away! 

 As ALF would say "Oh deys clebber basards dey is"  Dey git the wimmens and dey marry up a few and get the chllum an play foosball   Ho ho hoho      what poontang     for the chosen of god......"

 

          Guys like Joe were few and far between, no that I think of it. I knew other artists and especially musicians, but Joe understood the language of art. He understood that a picture was more then a picture – that it was about something.

As such a picture was more then a memory. Maybe a memory is more then a memory.

It’s been a rough ride, rougher then I could have imagined. I knew it would be tough but I never realized how much I would be hated by people for the simple crime of outshining them.

Now is the day of Salvation