For which I was almost expelled from school for writing (Assignments #8 and #9).

Assignment #1:
January 15, 2005

I believe not enough is known about this Venus of Willendorf statue to apply any kind of 20th century slant such as feminism. The idea of females being oppressed by any kind of patriarchy is ridiculous. As I've come to understand it, by reading Cosmic Trigger III by Robert Anton Wilson, there never has been a patriarchy, or matriarchy, throughout history. Just a series of oligarchies, which, ofcourse, are designed to oppress female and male alike. It's always a small group of people, with the majority of wealth and power, controlling a large group. Feminism is no more healthy for a society than nazism. Is the female lawyer being oppressed by the male fast-food worker. We should strive for equality and I don't see feminism as a means to do that. Feminist dogma is no more worthy of my attention than religious dogma. "All dogma creates an information-impoverished environment and art and science always seek information enrichment...You cannot predict an individual, male or female, in all their quirky uniqueness, from gender generalizations, anymore than you can do it from race generalizations"--R.A.W. That being said, I plan to vote for Hilary in 2008.

As far as the statue goes, I would like to believe she was representative of some kind of Earth Mother Goddess. Whether obese or perfectly proportioned, I'd feel safer knowing a female was the, or one of the, "head honchos." I prefer to worship the earth as female provider, carer, nurturer than some crazy angry jealous spiteful bastard sitting up in heaven and judging everyone. If there is a God, I'd bet it's more of an "It" entity, than male or female. How arrogant for humans to cast God in their image. I happen to be a Discordian and worship (doesn't mean I believe in) the greek goddess of chaos, Eris. She was a feisty one. Supposedly not very attractive, but I admire her mischievousness. What about Buddha? He's always portrayed as being fat. I don't believe I've ever heard an explanation for that. Odd, considering how much fasting and yoga are encouraged in buddhism.

By the way, that Capitoline Venus isn't doing a very good job of covering her breasts. And I like how our lady of Willendorf simply rests her arms on hers. Class!

Praise Eris!
All Hail Discordia!


Assignment #2:
January 23, 2005

I don't even have to read beyond the first paragraph to fulfill this assignment. I was just thinking about these two questions this morning, before receiving the assignment. I was going to ask about the war's affect on Iraq's art, or search on my own, after seeing the picture on page 32 of our textbook of White Temple in Uruk and the beautiful head from a statue of an Akkadian ruler, page 40, which, according the caption, was kept in a museum in Baghdad. Well, I'm absolutely horrified. I value art highly. Not monetarily, but it's ability to open doors you might normally be afraid to step through. For both the creator and appreciator, art, in it's many forms, can open you up to new avenues of thought, expression, and feeling that most are never brave enough to experience. It's a laxative for all the bullshit that repressive society heaps on you constantly from the day you are born. It takes years to claw out and finally truly breathe and see the true sky and that it is endless...infinite...painfully radiating with joy in it's perfectly applied brushstrokes.

Okay, now I'm going to actually go read the assignment....

Ofcourse this is nothing new. Perhaps the museums and libraries would have been better protected if, instead of books and ancient artifacts, they housed oil. Do you suppose there were any paintings of mass destruction? Biological sculpture? I read in a book by Tom Robbins called Skinny Legs And All, that the crusaders from Britain destroyed entire temples with countless works of art in the same area. Entire cultures wiped out, rebuilt, and wiped out again. Mesopotamia/Iraq/whatever...over and over this happens. That book is fiction, but he bases most of his stories around facts. I'm sure he's done his investigations. Just the information about the history of war and religion in the middle east is fascinating. Anyway, his fiction is hardly more surreal than what you'll find in a history book. I used to read mainly fiction, then suddenly (please excuse my digressions and tangents, not all of us were meant for linear thought...it all adds up in the end...all roads lead to the same destination: nowhere. There's "really" only one road and it's a circle)...whew, yeah, so suddenly I discovered this book called Breaking Open The Head by Daniel Pinchbeck, about shamanism, psychedelics, evolution; and realized that non-fiction was just as fascinating, bizarre, and even MORE exciting, because it's "real." Like in a Bad Religion song, "Sometimes truth is [truly] stranger than fiction!" I sorta had my own head broken open by Daniel's book and another called Food Of The Gods by Terrence McKenna. I didn't even have internet access at the time, and immediately opened an account with Earthlink, so I could email Daniel and express my appreciation. He answered immediately. He also writes for a magazine called Arthur. Blessed with an incredibly intelligent, evolved, interesting staff, Arthur quickly became my favorite periodical, covering politics, mysticism, science, art, music, poetry, and, again, "psychedelic" culture. You don't need psychedelics to open yr mind, those books and Arthur alone will raise your consciousness/awareness level and make life new and exciting again. I envy the raw, undisturbed openness of children. To me, it seems that learning to see the world as an adult, as you once witnessed it as a child, is one of the secrets to happiness and longevity. Art is a very helpful and powerful tool to unlock those secrets. It frustrates to observe the dwindling importance or art in my own country (or is that just my imagination?). They used to imprison, even execute artists. Art was dangerous and feared. Now it is simply ignored. But that's an oft-repeated argument we need not explore right now.

I haven't read the second article yet. "Why Should We Care?" Anyone who doesn't know the answer to that is...[sigh]...

It's like trying to teach some one to appreciate art. Or, even more so, trying to teach them how to create art. Do I really need to know the difference between Manet and Monet? How about the difference between mayonaise...spilled on an ebony kitchen floor...and a Pollock? Do I need to study art to create art? Ofcourse not. Just pick up a brush or a chisel or chalk or guitar and get busy. Express yourself. Well, for many, that doesn't mean anything, because they don't know who they are...and that's not necessary, either, actually. Art is more about the journey of discovering who you are. Just as writing
this
paper.

And it should be a constant discovery.

What they're really destroying is history. From the second article:

"Having a past, having a sense of who we are, allows us to measure our-selves against what political demagogues or market forces say we should be. These are the ones with no use for the past. That's why they burn books, either literally as in Nazi bonfires or figuratively in the blinding glow of the television screen. Without a sense of our past as the core of who we are, we risk being whatever we're told we are."

And all I have to say to that is: Nineteen Eighty-Four and Wilhelm Reich.

"If everyone was an artist, there would be no wars."--Harry Smith

Oh, and as for the second question: What artifacts help you define your own culture?

Um....McDonalds, Coke...

"No coke! PEPSI!"--John Belushi


Assignment #3
2/3/05

assighnment:"Make a connection" with any work in chapters 1,2,or 3; i.e. explain how you feel connected to a work either through its form, content, context, or any combination thereof.


Eternal Like The Souls Of Re

I could have chosen any of the Egyptian pieces, but I picked the statue of Menkaure and Khamerernebti. I'm fascinated by their culture, practices, and gods. This gives me an opportunity to do more research in to their wonderful mysteries. This particular work I find especially charming. I was flipping through, looking for something, trying to think of ideas I could expand upon, and then I saw these two dark, lovely creatures and was instantly smiling and giggling...and that was before I introduced any chuckle-inducing substances in to my system, say true, thank ya. The text-book describes them as "emotionless" and standing in a "frozen stereotypical gesture" which indicates "their marital status." Yikes! Maybe the author of that assertion is allowing us a little peep in to his personal life, because I didn't get that at all! They seem happy to me. Being a statue, it's a little unfair to use the word frozen in all but a literal meaning. I don't believe that it is my imagination that they are smiling. Or, at least, grinning. She has her right arm around his waist and her left hand on his left bicep. They both are nicely proportioned, except for their flat feet and fat ankles. Menkaure's calves may be a little too wide, too. The queen's right arm would have to be abnormally long, I think, to reach around his waist with her hand fully showing on his ribcage. They are equal height, which is nice. Though her holding on to him does suggests the male is dominant. I read online that she was just one of his wives, but in a pamphlet by Robert G. Ingersoll it is stated that the Egyptians believed in "the mariage of the one man to the one woman." I'll have to look in to that later.

Do you know about synchronicity? Those odd little "coincidences" that most people don't pay attention to? It's a huge part of my life. I could write a book about the magical occurrences that seem to be happening more and more as I make my way through this long, strange trip. When researching this subject, the first website I came to was www.touregypt.net. The second page I clicked to contained the little tidbit that Menkaure, the pharoah's birth name, means "Eternal like the Souls of Re." That struck me instantly, as my main interest and goal in life is too achieve immortality. Or, at least, live as long as I can (a rather recent change in thought compared to the previous decade of hell-bent self-destruction). Luckily, I believe that one of the easiest ways to increase lifespan is to simply enjoy every second and live as much in the moment as possible...and take lots of vitamins! I don't take a purely mystical or scientific approach. I grab from what I think works and feels intuitively right for my body and mind. I used to believe in reincarnation and some sort of afterlife, but the more I learn about the universe and how we, as humans, interpret it, it starts to seem more and more unlikely and all that really survives is your DNA which gets past on if you reproduce and memories of past lives are simply making a connection with that usually hidden part of genetic code or something like that. The point is that belief in an afterlife is self-destructive and limiting. It's saying no to life. It's unhealthy. If I die, go ahead and cremate me, because none of us are ever coming back, no matter how well-preserved our mummies or what the "sell-by" date is on our cryogenically frozen popsicle stick corpses.

A major re-occurring synchronicity that has been appearing in my life lately is with the numbers five, seventeen and twenty-three, which operate under the rule known as the "Law of Fives." Everything happens in fives, not threes. Twenty-three is especially powerful in that it completes the circle around back to five, because two plus three is five. I'm sure some of my friends and family are getting sick of receiving emails about this phenomena. Personally, I think it's wonderful and exciting. It makes my life bizarrely special, though I'm certainly not alone. Many people are haunted by twenty-three. It all started with Robert Anton Wilson and his first novel The Illuminatus Trilogy (and pretty much every successive book after). The more he wrote about it, the more it showed up in his life. It's now a daily basis thing with me (visiting my dying grandmother in the hospital and being directed to RM 523). As well as all the other unusual events that have been occurring for years. I found this at another website: "At the pyramid's entrance,[...] an inscription records that Menkaure died on the twenty-third*day of the fourth month of the summer and that he built the pyramid."

And this: "The triads in Menkaure's valley temple suggest that his pyramid complex was dedicated to Re, Hathor, and Horus." The book I lent thou, profesora de arte, had the eye of Horus on the cover. The man my mother married (no, not my dad, silly!) has a tatoo of the eye of Horus on his ankle and his email address starts with the word Horus. He caused me plenty of mental adolescent anguish (but I forgive him and I wasn't so easy to live with myself), and, therefore, has been quite "meaningful" in my life and these occurrences' meaningfulness is what, according to Carl Jung, classifies them as synchronicity. He tried to explain it with psychoanalytical models. Scientists are attempting to explain it with quantum physics, neuro-chemistry and who knows what. Then, ofcourse, you have your run-of-the-mill religious, mythical explanations; and lets not leave out the conspiracy theorists. Actually...yes, let's do leave them out.

I once repeated an Egyptian prayer at dawn and dusk each day for forty days and forty nights, because Mr. Wilson claimed something "interesting" (no specification of positive or negative, I later noted) would happen. I taught myself the little ditty:

I bless Ra, the fierce sun burning bright
I bless Isis, Luna in the night
I bless the air, the Horus hawk
I bless the earth, on which I walk

I lost track of the exact number of days, but I figured my fortieth night would end sometime around my birthday (December 15th). At noon on December 14th I was fired from my job** at J.D. Power & Associates, where I had worked for six years (as a temp if you could believe that). I was born in the twelfth month. My "temp number" to sign in to my computer at work was twelve. From www.guardians.net: "Herodotus mentioned that Menkaure died suddenly and added that there was an oracle from the Buto statue that foretold that he would live for six years. Menkaure started to drink, and enjoy every moment of his remaining years. However, Menkaure lived for twelve years, thus disproving the prophecy."

*My italics. My bold.
**It's hard not sink to such narcissism when my life is so interesting.

I found this next statement from the previous website, and it seems to contradict the above: "...the deities decreed, through the oracle of Buto, [...] that Menkaure would only reign for six years, after which the oppression would return. Mendaure is said to have considered this an unwarranted stricture and was determined to overcome it. Hence, he ordered that as night feel [sic], candles were to be lit, and he continued to live by day and night, theoretically expanding his reign from six to twelve years. However, the gods would have their way, and Menkaure died after the six stipulated calendar years."

The whole deciding to drink and enjoy every moment sounds familar. I can't say I've done well at enjoying every moment throughout my life, but I certainly did my share of drinking. I never expected to be on this earth long. A doctor, after monitoring my blood-pressure as a twenty-two year old man, once told me I would stroke by the age of twenty-five if I kept up my lifestyle of drinking, eating fast-food, barely exercising (high metabolism kept me thin). That was okay by me, because I was a miserable bastard most of the time anyway. But I just kept on living. Hate to disappoint you and blow your diagnosis, Doc, but not only did I keep drinking, I started smoking pot on a daily basis, as well. HA HA! Hardly ever got sick and felt pretty good most of the time, physically at least. Now I'm thirty and the drinking has slowed down to a trickle. Will a little self-will, but mostly of it's own accord. It simply felt right to stop. I could hardly handle more than a couple beers now. I always knew what I was doing to my body with alcohol, but I only decided to stop drinking when I discovered what it was doing to my consciousness. Alcohol narrows our consciousness, makes you less aware and, as a result, makes you apathetic. Cannibis, psilocybin, mescaline and LSD raise your consciousness (and your IQ if properly used), so, ofcourse, they are illegal in the United Sheeps Of America.

Do you see the "ken" in Menkaure?

Another one is that they mention ka in the textbook. Conventional postures (like standing) were used for the statues to "suggest the timeless nature of these eternal substitute homes for the ka." The glossary says Ka is "the immortal human life force." From www.thekeep.org: "Ka - The double that lingered on in the tomb inhabiting the body or even statues of the deceased, but was also independent of man and could move, eat and drink at will. There was both a higher, guardian angel like Ka and lower Ka that came from knowledge learned on earth." So, in other words, it's Ka-Ka (or as a song by broKEN goes: "Eventually we all become fertilizer"). I could go on and write another page on what guardian angels mean to me. But Harvey 'n I will spare you for now. I bet that if I type "ka" into a search engine right now, a site about Stephen King will come up. Ka is personally meaningful to my life in that eight feet to my right, a book is sitting called The Dark Tower by Mr. King. I am by no means a fan, but a woman at work, Jan, has been lending me the books in the series. I read all of them, mostly out of politeness, but eventually found myself enjoying and getting in to the story and living with the characters for so long. When I wrote "say true, thank ya" above, it was because the characters talk that way. I just hope I don't start addressing "folken" as "sai." Ka is mentioned profusely in the books. It's their word for "fate." Jan began working at J.D.P the same day I did. She is still there and was quite upset when I was fired. I had some very kind friends there. I email them once in a while, but ka has separated us and they will drift slowly from my sphere as I, like Roland of Gilead, wander off to pursue my own Dark Tower. I never received an explanation of why I was fired and have not seeked one (yet). I seem to be the least upset person about being let go. I am using the G.I. Bill to pay for school (and, hopefully, rent/bills), and am happy being a student again. Last time I was in school was five years ago. I'd rather study and do homework than sit in a stuffy office all day. I'm taking classes in subjects I actually want to learn more about and was reading books about outside of school anyway. And five classes is certainly enough to keep me busy. My guidance counselor suggested I take art appreciation instead of art history. It fulfills the requirement of an english major and is an easier class. I already know how to appreciate it, and I'm glad I stuck with my first choice. I should have no problem maintaining an A.

From i-cias.com: "Ka was written by a hieroglyph of uplifted arms. From this we probably can read that ka was in protection for the soul of the dead person. When a person died, it was said that he or she went off to his or her ka. When sacrifice was offered to the deceased, it was actually offered to his or her ka." When reciting the Egyptian prayer each day and evening, I stood and lifted my arms to the sky. Nobody told me to do that, it just seemed right. And, usually, I added a little extra "Praise Eris...All hail discordia." Discordia is also mentioned repeatedly in The Dark Tower series.

I know that I'm supposed to talk about the form, content and context (FCC?!), but that just makes art so technical and bland for me. I love art, but I wouldn't want to hang out with a bunch of critics and discuss every nuance, nook, and cranny exhaustively; rendering the piece meaningless. That's what science is for. And, yes, studying quantum physics and learning what atoms, protons, neutrons, electrons, and molecules are and how they react to each other and how our brain interprets the different wavelengths of electro-magnetic radiation reflecting off of, passing thru, and being absorbed by those particles and what that says about "reality" is also endlessly fascinating and beautiful in it's own way (let's not upset our fellow methodical rationalists here), but....oh crap, I just destroyed my own argument by looking up science in a thesaurus. It says "art." Sorry, pedagogue! Anyway I did, actually, cover the FCC, didn't I? I just didn't use those words.

Allow me to also apologize to any Egyptian spirits that may be hovering over 460 Santa Clara. I could be wrong about an afterlife and reincarnation. And I'm NOT an atheist. For a long time I kept switching back and forth between different reality tunnels. Now I simply admit that I don't know, and therefore, can no longer subscribe to any particular belief system: B.S. All we have really discovered, collectively, so far, as a human race, is that we really know nothing. Omniscience is a paradox. The more you know, the more you understand how little you truly know. You CANNOT attain enough knowledge to fully understand the universe. Not yet, at least. Maybe soon, though. A giant leap in evolution is scheduled to go down at midnight on December 21, 2012. Time is speeding up. Information is doubling faster and faster. They measure information by human accomplishment/understanding between certain periods like the middle ages, the renaissance, the industrial revolution, etc. and it seems to be happening in shorter and shorter periods. The internet was a huge leap with it's vast array of information and new levels of communication. We're still speaking in years as of now, but as we approach the above date, theoretically, the info will be doubling by the day, the hour, the minute, the second....just try to imagine what THAT will feel like? How are our puny little brains going to interpret all of that? Millions of people can't even balance a check-book. It's going to be madness, I tell you. MADNESS! But, luckily, some of us are preparing for the event. Have been preparing our whole lives. Teaching ourselves "controlled madness." I feel very grateful to be young, healthy, alive, and aware at this point in time. I used to wish I could have lived through the sixties and experienced all that dope, free love, and great music, but I wouldn't have had access to the multitude of discoveries humans have recently made and are going to make, especially in the realm of longevity. I'm perfectly happy right here in (presumed) "current" space-time (I have a feeling language is going to have to be drastically updated to reflect the changes society is going through). And although I missed out on the sixties, there's still drugs, sex and rock 'n roll. Heck, we even have our very own Vietnam... Anyway, despite the confusion and complexity of our present situation, I'm sure I'm better off as a white American male in the twenty-first century, than an Egyptian in 2480 B.C.E.. King or not. If I was alive at that time, I'd probably end up being an artist and carving some of those statues with my own two hands. And that just seems like a lot of hard work....with no air-conditioning, no cd's...just hot sand, chisels and opium.

Final note: Perhaps God is something that we have the ability to create? If everyone was at the same level of understanding, we could focus all our energy and "imagine" God in to existance. The way, supposedly, individuals have created tulpas. Like Alexandra David-Neel, who concentrated for months on picturing a little fat monk 'til one began slowly fading in from her mind to "reality." Others were able to observe him, as well, she wasn't just hallucinating. Unless it was a mass hallucination and lasted weeks. Apparently the little fella was beginning to cause havoc around town and misbehaving. She had to concentrate for several more months to absorb him back in to her mind. See you in class. Remember I get to drive the 23...and I drive it five days per week, ofcourse. Ofcourse.


"Everything that can be Believed is an Image of the Truth."

--William Blake



Assignment #4
February 10, 2005


Crown Jewels? Parthenon Marbles? Paging Dr. Freud.

I say we turn the state of Nebraska into a giant museum for all of the art in the world. What other purpose is it serving? And not just for the work of "professional" artists, either. Any one who wants to put up a painting or sculpture or whatever is free to do so. You'll be able to walk through the entire state, miles and miles of junk, I mean "art." Do ya think Nebraska is big enough for all the art in the world? All the freaks, hippies, junkies, perverts will converge on the corn state. Lincoln will be a future Lascaux.

Incidentally, I just finished a couple pieces last night. A nail polish painting and a collage/nail polish painting. I don't create them for anyone but myself. I hang 'em on my walls. My kitchen looks like a gallery. The best ones are the ones where I have no clue what I'm doing or what the piece is about until, suddenly, weeks later I realize what my subconscious was/is trying to tell me. I'm not trying to be especially original by using nail polish on cardboard. It's purely economical, both monetarily and spacially. Plus, it's not about the destination, it's the journey that's important...and the paint fumes.

I wrote over four pages last time, our first exam is in a couple of days, and I'm taking four other classes. Yeah, this is good for now.

Assignment #5 February 12, 2005

A Horus Is A Horus Ofcorus, Ofcorus


I am interested in Egypt, because that is where synchronicity has led me. For this assignment (note the magick number five), I will produce one paragraph per day, until class resumes on February 26, which checking my calendar reveals already a synchronicity: Chloe (a girl I met online and devoted a small chunk of time to distantly entertaining 'til she moved to Seattle to be with her boyfriend I was conveniently kept in the dark about...) was born on that day, she'll be twenty-five (hmmm...25 in 2005, I know a Clara who will be 35...I wish I was born in a nice round number year like 1970 or 1980--easier to keep track), and, also, February 26 is the day Bill Hicks (my present favorite comedien) was yanked from the stage by cancer. He describes in one of his acts the sum of the books I've read concerning evolution in a few minutes, with no dialogue and it's one of the most brilliant, funny things I've ever witnessed. I have a DVD and a couple of his CD's. I mark the dates on my calendar of when certain people were born and died, and celebrate the person's life by reading a little of one of their books (if they were a writer) or listening to their music, and so on. May 23rd is my friend Sarah's birthday, and the day Bonnie (shot twenty-three times) and Clyde (shot twenty-five) were killed. Dwelling on these synchronicities reinforces the connection 'twixt sex 'n' death. Back to the assignment: Each day I will go online and type "Horus" in to Yahoo!'s search engine and write about whatever connection I find with the content of each site I visit. This is not work, it is fun. It is tickling of the obsessive-compulsive bone. It is playing with the subconscious, an exciting new journey. I really don't know that much about Egypt. I've already mentioned the ways their gods have, seemingly, personally affected me. But that's all explainable with science and I'm not dumb enough to be frightened of some superstitious crap like they believed. I admire their gods more than the christian god. The old testament god is the most frightening creature I've come across in mythological literature. The men that created him must have lived in horrible reality tunnels of guilt and fear, pleading to be punished for their sin, the sin they created in their own minds, which lead to the destruction of Goddess and ongoing onslaught of all that is inherently beautiful about the female half of this species. That word sin has no meaning for me. I have no concept of what's good or evil. I understand that our obsessions can become incarnate and that those are called demons, angels, pookahs, servitors, tulpas, gods, and other imaginary creatures that gain power as you lose control over those aspects of your life--that's what magick is for. Ofcourse, if you really get down to it, we're all imaginary creatures, who've created ourselves, but I wouldn't suggest thinking about that too much. So I won't be allowing my reality to be affected by studying a culture that spent so much time thinking about the future and an after-life. I'm too intelligent for ancient beliefs, too evolved for belief systems. But if I have to adopt a little belief to force my subconscious to perform my will, then so be it. It's worked before... You just have to make sure you know where the line is. As far as "morality" goes, I am a "moral" person simply because I choose to be happy and healthy, which is reflected by my actions instinctively. Without religious dogma or laws prescribed by governments to keep me in check, I would still be a "moral" person. I don't believe in God, but if He or She does exist, I know that they are looking down with pride at one of their more successful creations.

For the first website, I have picked the fifth one down on page one. A document entitled "Cippi of Horus" appears. It describes stelae on convex bases that "vary in height from 3 ins. to 20 ins." This is only in the second sentence, mind you...I'm not searching throughout the document for fives and twenty-threes. It says that images of Horus and animals appear on these cippi and that "the backs, sides, and bases are usually covered with magical texts." Looks like we're on the right track. Quick question: why is Bob Dylan, one the the greatest songwriters ever, so ignorant as to flit back and forth between Judaism and Christianity? Why doesn't he explore more interesting religions? He wrote a wonderful song called "Isis," why hasn't he adopted their religion? or Buddhism? Hinduism? Discordianism? Horus seems to enjoy standing on crocodiles. Remember I asked if the Egyptian Book of the Dead was older than the Tibetan's. I had planned to look this up separately, but after starting this assignment, instead just hoped that the answer would show up on it's own. There is a link titled "Book of the Dead"--let's see where this takes us...It contains more links to each chapter. Perfect, as I would also like to read the book, itself. I own and have read the Tibetan one. It was great and I truly felt like I understood completely the whole point, although being so separated from that culture. In the introduction to the Egyptian one, I find this " The Book of the Dead is the name given by Egyptologists to a group of mortuary spells written on sheets of papyrus covered with magical texts and accompanying illustrations called vignettes. These were placed with the dead in order to help them pass through the dangers of the underworld and attain an afterlife of bliss in the Field of Reeds." My mother's maiden name is Reed and I spent the first eighteen years of my life as Kenneth Reed. Now I go by my father's name: Fairfield. Obviously, I should click on the twenty-third link down...It is the appendix of "The Chapter Of Drinking Water In Khert-Neter" and contains " I am master of the water, as Set is master of his weapon. I sail over the sky, I am Ra, I am Ru. I am Sma. I have eaten the Thigh, I have seized the bone and flesh. I go round about the Lake of Sekhet-Ar. Hath been given to me eternity without limit. Behold, I am the heir of eternity, to whom hath been given everlastingness." Which brings us back to my recurring immortality obsession. Returning to the original document, it thus ends: "The whole Stele on which these texts and figures are found is nothing but a talisman, or a gigantic amulet engraved with magical forms of gods and words of power, and it was, undoubtedly, placed in some conspicuous place in a courtyard or in a house to protect the building and its inmates from the attacks of hostile beings, both visible and invisible, and its power was believed to be invincible. The person who had been stung or bitten by a scorpion or any noxious beast or reptile was supposed to recite the incantations which Thoth had given to Isis, and which had produced such excellent results, and the Egyptians believed that because these words had on one occasion restored the dead to life, they would, whensoever they were uttered in a suitable tone of voice, and with appropriate gestures and ceremonies, never fail to produce a like effect. A knowledge of the gods and of the magical texts on the Stele was thought to make its possessor master of all the powers of heaven, and of earth, and of the Underworld." I'll have to learn that. Paging Mr. Crowley...

I belong to an online community called Myspace.com. There are numerous groups I am a member of, including a Discordians group and a Robert Anton Wilson group. Today, a twenty-three year old woman invited me to join one called "Ancient Egypt." But it's not really a synchronicity, she most likely saw what I wrote on her Alan Watts group about my interest in Egypt and this very same art history class. Oh, and the main friggin' picture I've been using for my profile for the past few months is of Horus. Now, clicking on the seventeenth site down in my search, I come to teenwitch.com. Here we learn that the Greeks associated Horus with Apollo (they believed "Heru" and Apollo to be the same god). He is the god of mid-April to mid-May (perhaps he'll assist me with my exams). Here's something interesting: "If you follow any of the links offered on this web site, no spell begging. Especially no love spell begging." "love spell" is a link to a page with a love spell and a bunch of stuff about ethical magic practice, ie. getting some one's permission to use a spell on them. Apparently if I want to seduce some one I have to ask their permission first or already have a somewhat intimate relationship with them. Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it? Lauren asks: "ok well my name is lauren and i live in Australia, and for the last two years i have become very interested in witch craft. A while ago i cast a spell on a boy that i liked, i think it was called the valentine soup. anyway, i poured this spell on a flower, and as the flower grew this guy started to like me, and he eventually asked me out. we'd been going out for ages, but one day he dumped me. i was totally heartbroken. when i got home i went straight to the flower, and it wasn't there. Mum had cut it and put it in a vase. did our love die because mum cut the flower? i dont know if i am a witch or not. I think i am, most of the people at school are scared of me, they say i look like a witch. Do you think i am a witch?" I learn, in another part of the site that Isis' (or Aset's) birthday is July 17 [later, another site claims it's July 21]. I know that July 23 is when Sirius is closest to earth, and I plan to try and communicate with intelligent life from the Dog Star. I don't really believe that is the correct explanation for the phenoma that several people, including Robert Anton Wilson, have experienced, but it is a useful archetype. Either that or I hope to make contact with a six foot three rabbit from County Kerry. Anyway, keep that date in mind, July 23rd, and keep an eye out for anything weird happening in your own life. Horus lost his left eye while avenging his father in a battle against Seth. My left eye vision is very poor. I wear glasses when driving. My right eye is perfect. Sometimes I puposely peer out of my blurry left eye, because it's like being able to see the molecules in the air, or "thin" air, and phenomena may begin to form or appear that you wouldn't notice while using eyes with 20/20 vision. Perhaps our eyes go bad for a specific reason and repairing them or using glasses is actually anti-thetical to perception. "Seth restored the eye he had torn from Horus, but Horus gave it instead to Osiris. The image of the eye of Horus, a human eye combined with the cheek markings of a falcon, became a powerful amulet among the Egyptians." I've been wanting to order one of those amulets. "The EYE OF HORUS has a very specific meaning. The eye is represented as a figure with 6 parts. These 6 parts correspond to the six senses - Touch, Taste, Hearing, Thought, Sight, Smell. These are the 6 parts of the *eye*. The eye is the receptor of *input*. It has these six doors, to receive data. The construction of the eye follows very precise laws. The senses are ordered according to their importance. And according to how much energy must be *eaten* by the *eye* for an individual to receive a particular sensation. All of the sensory data input is *food*. Spiritually, the right eye reflects solar, masculine energy, as well as reason and mathematics [later I find myself drawing eyes of Horus in my folder while bored in math class] . The left eye reflects fluid, feminine, lunar energy, and rules intuition and magick. Together, they represent the combined, transcendent power of Horus. The Eye of Horus was believed to have healing and protective power, and it was used as a protective amulet, and as a medical measuring device, using the mathematical proportions of the eye to determine the proportions of ingredients in medical preparations) to prepare medications. The Masonic all seeing eye, the Eye of Providence symbol found on American money, and our modern Rx pharmaceutical symbol are all derived from the Eye of Horus." I'm now using the eye as wallpaper on my computer.

There is a form of chess called Horus. Today I went on a little field trip across campus with anthropology class to the zoo. There was a Harris Hawk, which made me think of Horus. Their length is usually 20-23 inches.

Got sidetracked tonight from Horus by his mother. Wanted to know if something special happened relating to Isis on May 5th, since in the song "Isis" Dylan says "I married Isis on the fifth day of May." Didn't find an answer, but ended up joining the Fellowship Of Isis (FOI) ring. Ordered one of their pamphlets. Now I need to set up a shrine: a picture or statue of the goddess, two candles, incense, and a cup of water. Posted a comment in a forum about Isis on that myspace Ancient Egypt site, recommending everyone join the fellowship at once to freak out the people who run it: "She's blessed us with a surge of new followers!" Ha Ha! It's free to join. There are quite a few groups throughout California, the nearest being in Chatsworth, with a phsyical place I could go to and study and move up in the liturgy, but I signed on as a "solitary student."

"Horus is shown as a hawk, or a man with a hawk's head and the crown of all Egypt. This makes him look similar to Ra, but Ra is crowned with the sun disk. Horus' crown is made of two parts. The white part is the crown of Upper Egypt (in the south) and the red part is the crown of Lower Egypt (including the Nile delta). Together they show that Horus ruled all Egypt. During their reign, Pharoahs identified themselves with Horus. After they died, they became Osiris." I've been getting rather frustrated with the amount of contradictory information when researching subjects online. Access to overwhelming amounts of data is rapidly blurring the distinction between fact and fiction. I believe a man named Sven Birkerts wrote an essay about this.

Today, Friday the 18th, I went out to the local antique shops in Fillmore to search for memoribilia relating to Isis and Horus. Ideally, I was searching for a statue or picture of Isis. I found nothing, except a book called The Secret Power of Pyramids, which I purchased for one dollar. I had a conversation with the middle-aged gentleman who co-owns the shop. Turns out he, too, is interested in Egyptian culture and does a lot of reading, watches documentaries on the history channel, visits museums, and has actually visited Egypt numerous times. Upon exclaiming his wonderment to the amount of mummies and other artifacts to a curator at a particular L.A. museum, the man replied, "You should see London's collection--they've stolen even more than us!" Then, ofcourse, he began to pontificate on who rightfully owns the treasures, etc., just as we discussed in class. I was not interested in replaying that debate and went back to looking through some books.

Found this on Barbelith.com: "23 is the number assigned to Horus just as 17 to Osiris, his father and 8 to Isis." Another site claims that Horus castrated Seth in their famous battle. I doubt if Seth would have restored Horus' eye if that had happened. Or did Horus, in turn, restore Seth's testicles? Wasn't Aphrodite born from the bleeding testicles of a god castrated by his son? To be honest, I've become more interested in Isis lately than Horus. I hope Eris isn't getting jealous. Anyway, I simply prefer the company, mythological or substantial, of females to males. Lingering debris from Oedipus wreckage. Also, Seth was a god of disorder, like Eris...I don't think Horus and Eris would get along very well. My apartment is going to become a battleground.

Here's something different from www.near-death.com:

Jesus as a Reincarnation of Horus

Jesus was referred to as the “chief cornerstone” (i.e., capstone) - a reference to an Egyptian pyramid. The chief cornerstone of the pyramid is same symbol for Horus, the Egyptian god and savior. Like the Egyptian pharoah, Jesus was called a “shepherd” who rules the nations with a staff. Horus was a popular Egyptian god who was the son of Osiris and Isis. Osiris and Horus were both solar deities. Osiris was the setting sun, Horus the rising sun. Jesus is the rising Son and the morning star. The pharoah was considered to be an incarnation of Horus (also known as "Amen-Ra," the sun god). In the same way, Jesus is considered to be the incarnation of his heavenly Father. Horus was the “lamb of God” who took away the sins of the world. Horus had an adversary named "Set". Jesus' adversary was "Satan".

It goes on. Not sure about some of the similarities. Bit of a stretch. Could be.

I fell short of my ambition for this assignment. Ofcourse, none of your other students would ever make such a statement whilst turning in a five page paper.
A five page paper finalized
on the twenty-fifth
of two-thousand and five
A five page paper finalized
on the twenty-fifth
of two-thousand and five
On which day I also received my statues of Horus and Isis. Very nice. I was in a bad mood, my stomach was bothering me, and after the statues arrived I now feel much better. I set up a little shrine. I am using a brass chalice I bought about a decade ago at a thrift store as an offering of water. I just bought it cause it looked cool, but I found meaning in it later when I saw "10-9-82" was engraved on the side, cuz I was obsessed with John Lennon at the time and knew his birthday was October 9. Though, ofcourse, he was dead by 1980...I received a WestWays magazine in the mail a few days ago, with info about an Egyptian collection coming to the Bowers Museum of Cultural Art on April 17th. I will cut out the pictures and place them on the wall behind my shrine...underneath an ancient scarred table, between the sink and refridgerator in my art gallery/kitchen. There is a Tom Robbins admiration group on Myspace. I joined, ofcourse.

I now use a picture of Isis as the wallpaper on my computer.


Assignment #7
March 5, 2005

Please do not choose "Walk Like An Egyptian" as our theme song. That is lame. Who in their right Ka would think Egyptians walked around like that? I figured I would pick one of my own songs, but I could not find a suitable choice. I've written and recorded about 140 songs, but none of them are about art history. I used to be filled with inspiration and wrote at least ten songs per month, but that has died out. I still write the occasional poem (of which I also have hundreds to choose from). I went in to my songs.doc file and typed the word "art" using the find function. Here is one that came up:

"Message To Babies Of This Brave New World"

What more can be said? Be done?
Every ounce of originality
Has been wrung from every soul
Stop sucking child, the tit has run dry
We've all been through this many times
Nothing new can possibly take form
Pull out ideas with rusty pliers
Scrape them from yr bones
The extremes of blessedness and evil are exhausted
We're all just trying to find a place in-between
Art is slowly dying
Start hurting yourself again, you were more interesting
Everything has been recycled
Shave yr head, tattoo the back of yr eyes
Nothing is important
Including you
People are easily replaced
Yr a dime per dozen with the overpopulation
Of the beautiful people
You must become an emotional vampire
To fuel yr writing in the 21st century
And be clever at yr thievery
Nobody wants to learn anymore
Only be entertained
Throw yr shit at the monkeys in this zoo
And to survive as a modern artist
You must develop several personalities
In this world, every insect is winged
The roses that bloom burn yr eyes
Kick out the jams, Motherfucker!
But desensitize just enough to fool 'em
Or the world will cripple you
Without hesitation

WELCOME!

Good luck putting that to music. Oh, and when I create any kind of art, I attribute it to "broKEN" not Ken. If I haven't mentioned that already. Anyway, I just included that poem for shitzngiggles. My real choice is, you should've guessed:

Isis

by Robert Zimmerman

I married Isis on the fifth day of May,
But I could not hold on to her very long.
So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away
For the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.

I came to a high place of darkness and light.
The dividing line ran through the center of town.
I hitched up my pony to a post on the right,
Went in to a laundry to wash my clothes down.

A man in the corner approached me for a match.
I knew right away he was not ordinary.
He said, "Are you lookin' for somethin' easy to catch?"
I said, "I got no money." He said, "That ain't necessary."

We set out that night for the cold in the North.
I gave him my blanket, he gave me his word.
I said, "Where are we goin'?" He said we'd be back by the fourth.
I said, "That's the best news that I've ever heard."

I was thinkin' about turquoise, I was thinkin' about gold,
I was thinkin' about diamonds and the world's biggest necklace
As we rode through the canyons, through the devilish cold,
I was thinkin' about Isis, how she thought I was so reckless.

How she told me that one day we would meet up again,
And things would be different the next time we wed,
If only could hang I on and just be her friend.
I still can't remember all the best things she said.

We came to the pyramids all embedded in ice.
He said, "There's a body I'm tryin' to find.
If I carry it out it'll bring a good price."
'Twas then that I knew what he had on his mind.

The wind it was howlin' and the snow was outrageous.
We chopped through the night and we chopped through the dawn.
When he died I was hopin' that it wasn't contagious,
But I made up my mind that I had to go on.

I broke into the tomb, but the casket was empty.
There was no jewels, no nothin', I felt I'd been had.
When I saw that my partner was just bein' friendly,
When I took up his offer I must-a been mad.

I picked up his body and I dragged him inside,
Threw him down in the hole and I put back the cover.
I said a quick prayer and I felt satisfied.
Then I rode back to find Isis just to tell her I love her.

She was there in the meadow where the creek used to rise.
Blinded by sleep and in need of a bed,
I came in from the East with the sun in my eyes.
I cursed her one time then I rode on ahead.

She said, "Where ya been?" I said, "No place special."
She said, "You look different." I said, "Well, I guess."
She said, "You been gone." I said, "That's only natural."
She said, "You gonna stay?" I said, "If you want me to. Yes."

Isis, oh, Isis, you mystical child.
What drives me to you is what drives me insane.
I still can remember the way that you smiled
On the fifth day of May in the drizzlin' rain.


or how about Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition"? The Jam "Art School"?

I noted your enthusiasm over the Marine style octopus jar. I was drawn to this work moreso than some of the others in this chapter, as well, due partly to my interests in octopi. I used to be obsessed with Syd Barrett (Pink Floyd) and he is responsible for me taking up guitar and writing songs. I like that he mentions different animals a lot in his solo albums. He has a song called "Octopus" with the lines:

Please leave us here
close our eyes to the octopus ride!

Here is a song I wrote and recorded the first time I tried LSD (acid/a syd) on my mother's birthday, October 11, 2003:

Another Octopus

Cursed with a big brain
They illegalize access to
Can't communicate
Wish I was an octopus, that'd satiate

There are 8 things I want to do
And now I can
Messages I couldn't send as a man
In an ocean of information and ideas
I can surf on a wave and disappear

The ink I dispense is whited out with lies
A school of fish, how many of them are spies?

It's a whale of a task
To complete yr mission before you die
(repeat)
I have to relax
I don't know why

I have to relearn, little by little, how to love
(repeat)

Here is an excerpt from my journal entry that day:

There will be a meeting point at which what we create and what we are able to "see" with our unconscious mind will meet. The more technologically advanced we become the less we need to rely on "consciousness expanding drugs." No Shit! Who cares? 2012? We won't be able to hallucinate anymore. We won't be able to trip. Reality will become one long, drawn out "trip." What we always wanted. Syd and I. McKenna's insane. Pinchbeck's insane. I love them all! Me! Move over republican party poopers! I'm going to send this rambling to all of my new little friends. Hey Daniel [Pinchbeck], I'm a little out of it rite now cuz haven't eaten hardly today, but here's something I came up with a couple days ago: How about a psychedelic called "DSL," in which you could explore the internet without a computer. Without a physical connection. Just using yr mind (with a little help)--it's possible, right? The internet is in my mind already anyways. Sometimes when I'm dreaming, there'll be pop-up windows of other scenes to access in the dream. I need a spamguard for my mind.

Now something from Robert Anton Wilson that has absolutely nothing to do with this assignment. From an interview in Maybe Quarterly:

Wilson: You know the nicest thing my wife ever said to me?

MQ: No.

Wilson: "If all men were like you, there would be no need for Feminism." Every time I think of that, I feel such a warm glow. She knew me pretty well. She had to, after 42 years.

MQ: That's quite a complement.

Wilson: The greatest complement I've ever received.

MQ: Well what are your views on Feminism these days?

Wilson: Well, there was a point where the most widely publicized of the feminists was the nut fringe, and they were talking about men the way Hitler talked about Jews. I was not at all reticent or shy about expressing that opinion, and continually pointing out the similarity there. They're still around, but they're not as influential as they used to be. I've always supported Feminism, except for what the mass media projected in the 60s, 70s. My wife was a feminist, her mother was a feminist, her grandmother was a feminist, we raised our daughters to be feminists. I am a feminist, as far as anybody with a willy can consider himself a feminist. I enthusiastically support all the goals of Feminism, except for that dingbat wing who really does want to get rid of men entirely. They don't bother me anymore, because the world's going to get rid of me pretty soon anyway, so I don't care. But I do think men have certain qualities that should be preserved. In zoos at least.


Assignment #8
March 20, 2005

Today is the beginning of the Thelemic New Year. Aleister Crowley. Not that I know what that really means or that I do anything special on this day. I haven't read any Crowley. I only know about him through others, like RAW, Jimmy Page, etc. I can't think of any mnemonic devices to help remember art related facts. I almost need a mnemonic device to remember how to spell the damn word. And I've never seen the movie Johnny Mnemonic. I told you I've been taking those memory pills. Maybe that's why I've been studying in my sleep and dreaming about reading books and stuff online. Sometimes I have dreams where my mind is racing, trying to figure out incredibly complex problems. Mathematics, phsyics.....not very restful. Overactive brain. This was happening long before the pills, so don't think they have anything to do with it. It happens mostly if I have a stressful job like when I was in The Navy, tracking/detecting submarines. Millions of taxpayer's dollars underneath my fingertips in the equipment I used.

I just finished watching a dvd about Philip K. Dick called The Gospel According To Philip K. Dick. It was great. RAW is in it (sidenote: woke from a dream with the acronym RWA in my head, translating to: Resting While Atomic, whatever that means). I've never read any PKD and I'm very anxious to. Camarillo Library has a bunch of his books. I want to read them in chronological order and observe the process of his slow development in to either brilliant open consciousness or complete insanity (depending on who you ask, including himself). He's dead, though, so don't bother asking him now. If you have any of his books, funnel those my way, please. As I struggle to stay afloat in the sea of my own mirrored madness manifesting, I watch these things happen to other men and women and wait, in rapt paranoia, for the tide to rush in and sweep me away right along with them. Is it possible to observe the fall without taking the leap oneself? And if so, would I choose the safe, easy route? Doubtful.

The Horror Of Becoming One

I live in a vacuum and it sucks
I only have myself to blame
I only have myself to forgive
Everything must die for me to live

The moon reflects my irony
A mirror for the true source
As the skin slowly burns to set me free
Don't argue with my philosophy
I've made the decision and paid the cost
When the path is divided, it's easy to get lost

chorus: I am the sun, the stars, and earth
Tell me, which one of us do you think will die first?
When the son vs. the father, they both lose When the sun self-destructs, we all lose

Where am to bury the universe?
How will I spread it's ashes?
Will I think of Man as a blessing or a curse?
Will I just want to forget what happened?

Bell's theorem, Godel's theorem
Prophecy, paradox, propulsion, equinox
Illusion, intrusion, distribution, delusion
Confusion, conclusion, retribution, evolution
Doubtful, doubtful, doubtful that this was ever real

chorus

I'm not dead, I've just been sleeping
In my head, history keeps creeping
You only needed me to create you
I only created you to destroy me
You only needed me to create you
I only created you to destroy me
Inseparable, I am the sun
Inseparable, I am the stars
Inseparable, I am the earth
Which one of us do you think will die first?

I haven't been doing so well the past week. It started when, two weeks ago, you pointed out that I was "detached." I brushed it aside and even managed to take it as a compliment, but it affected me deeply. Then my friend Desireé did a tarot reading that pointed out trouble ahead and possible incarceration, which disturbed me as I'm already wary of our government and afraid that they're going in to cyberspace and seeing the poems/songs/essays that I write about hating the president and pondering his assassination, even though I would/could never do such a thing (too time consuming, too much planning), but perhaps they'd be worried of me being a provocateur. Anyway, it's really not so farfetched if you look deeply enough in to the history of such governments. And there are other aspects of my life inflicting stress and I'm not handling it as well as I have in previous months. Though, I am dealing with inconvenient upheavals better than I did in the years before discovering certain comforting writers I continuously mention. Perhaps I just need a new RAW book to read. There are plenty left me to discover, but I don't have a lot of money and none of the libraries around here carry any of his stuff. I started drinking again, too. Not more than a couple beers/night, but I'm still disappointed in myself. Last Thursday I had three beers, which nowadays is a huge amount for me and I was hungover. I've been having strange dreams lately. Not just about chickens. The one I had two nights ago was frightening. It was the type where you know yr dreaming, but yr so deeply asleep that you can't wake up. I didn't even bother trying to wake myself up cuz I knew I wouldn't be able to. It started out relatively normal, inside a living room with people I know from "real" life. My friend's younger brother, Bret, was laying on a couch. I remember discovering that he was obsessed with some book about UFO's by Jeff Young. I hadn't recalled of ever having heard of such an author and wrote the name down when I woke up and looked online for such a book. I found several Jeff Young's. One wrote a fictional book involving seances, but I found no UFO related stuff. I did discover another writer, Peter Moon, that I want to look into, as he's written about synchronicity. Back in the dream, the landscape suddenly drastically changed as I glanced up, not indoors any longer, but outside, into an afternoon sky where the sun was rapidly crossing overhead to the right, making its way towards the moon, threatening eclipse. I exclaimed, "Whoah!" Then I remember playing with a lion cub. It was friendly at first, but then went behind my back, as I sat on the ground, and began urinating on the back of my neck, marking his territory. I took that as a sure sign that things we're going to change and I better "watch my back." I stood up and scolded the cub. It's mother appeared and I edged my way towards a wooden structure. A shed or shack of some sort. I backed slowly in to the doorway before the lioness could swipe her paw at me. It was ridiculously cramped. More like a fake building you'd see on a Hollywood set. There were several interior rooms, also very small. I believe this is the point that I realized I was dreaming and that I would not be able to wake up, so I began planning out what I'd need to do to survive the night in such a world. I found some matches and began fastening a rudimentary torch. The detail of the objects that I can still picture in this part of the dream is what I find most frightening. Dusty red and white box of matches, but which also contained little, red-handled brushes. I woke up as I was trying to light the end of a cloth I'd stuck in a bottle. Along with the Jeff Young reference, I'd received earlier the word "Dorfu" and the date of your birth "April 23rd." I kept repeating to myself as I lie in bed, so as to remember and investigate later: "Dorfu: April 23rd." Does that mean anything to you? I looked Dorfu up online and only found that it was a small town in Ethiopia. Or maybe I've just been in a bad mood cuz one of my neighbors keeps whistling loudly, annoyingly to themselves. Usually while I'm trying to read in silence. Good thing I don't own a gun. And they couldn't carry a tune even if they owned some magical, musically calibrated forklift! I hope this counts as an assignment. Why don't you think up something better? Why don't you ask us to consider how long it will be before art is obsolete? Don't you think that as we learn more and more about the universe and ourselves through science, that we won't feel the need to explain our different viewpoints through various mediums such as art, religion, and politics? Probably not a dilemna we'll face in this lifetime, but something to consider. Not that I'm in any hurry to dispose of art. Life would be quite bleak and miserable without it. But I certainly feel it dying inside of me. In both the need to create and the ability to appreciate. I guess I'm just tired of being confused to the point that I need to seek answers in abstract thought. I feel like I'm putting myself on. Like I'm simply trying to extend the human game a little longer. I don't want to grow up. Peter Pan is alive and well in Fillmore, California. I don't want the responsibility that comes with awareness, with knowledge. Or is the assumption that there is an end to such discovery another process of fooling oneself?

When I stated I need my heroes to be infallible.....Well, I don't suppose any one is or has ever been such a thing. You said I must not have many heroes. There are many I admire and whose examples I attempt to integrate in to my life, but I'm not sure they fall in to the definition of hero. "Believe it or not, I'm walking on air. I never thought I could feel so free hee heee!" Many of the people I've admired throughout my life have been completely hopeless losers. Suicide. Madness. Failed relationships. Poverty. Artists, in other words! All of them laughing in my face as I attempt to develop an air of optimism. As if I can escape the same fate. HA! Except for Robert Anton Wilson. I love that man more than the people I personally know. He's one of the few who seems to have found a way to rise above the cliché of tortured genius artist, while maintaining the spark of brilliance and creativity, and fostering kindness and hope. My problem is that the examples set by the dregs are still so tauntingly attractive! You wrote that you were "waiting for something..." A wise man once said:

How sad that so many
Are waiting to observe a miracle
When the ability to observe
IS the miracle!

That wise man was me.

Okay, I wrote that last bit above about a week ago. By now I have read PKD's Eye In The Sky. Very good, easy read. A little scary with the main object of attack being a person who chooses not to fit in to any category (political, spiritual, etc.), which is deemed the biggest threat to structured society and, therefore, extremely anti-American. Now it is the first of April, and what I have to say is no fooling. I feel empty and wretched inside this morning. I was thinking about you and the class and how much I am truly going to miss it. I feel absolutely horrible. You're not supposed to develop feelings like this. Those are generally reserved for family/loved ones. I don't feel much for my family, however, and I don't have many friends or a girlfriend, so I suppose whatever remains of human emotion inside this frail heart must be directed somewhere. If I could go on taking your class forever (and getting paid for it), I would. Slowly making our way through the history of art and writing essays. Just imagine what I'd have to say about Dali, Van Gogh.....And I started thinking about what if the school discovered you're not supposed to be teaching this class and replaced you? I'd be devastated! I'd probably have to start writing proper, sober, sane, politically-correct (that's an oxymoron) papers.

I've been so up and down lately. I suppose it's better than just being down all the time. I used to cherish such flux in emotion, for it drove artistic tendency and spurned creativity (como un chingador de madre, perdón mi español). I haven't created a damn thing lately. Except schoolwork. I just read and watch and listen and take in now without putting out, except through writing, which does help, but not the same way that recording a song or painting used to do. I guess I should start meditating more. Here's something interesting: how come, on the few occasions that I breakdown and allow myself to cry, it's usually while eating. For instance, this morning, while eating waffles and listening to Beethoven. Leggo my allegro! Well, anyway, for what it's worth: : "There's something happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear....." That's not what I meant to type. I meant to say: for what it's worth, I've enjoyed our time together. At least you know you'll be receiving a high rating on yr teacher's evaluation. And, yes, I am aware of the prematureness of this display.

While bored in math class, I wrote this: My Etruscan Girl My Education Giver Making Excited Gasps Meeting Everlasting Grasps Moon Enveloping Grass Mixing Excretions Gratuitously Mastering Extreme Gravity Momentary Excellence Gained Mead Extracted Grain Mastheads Exemplary Growth Mass Equalling Girth Moss Encased Gate Meandering Easy Gait Mistaken Erroneous God Miserable Epidemic Germ Music Ears Gong Miasma Entropy Gas Malaclypse Eris Goddess Mimetic Eternal Glimpse Mayan Egyptian Greek Mad Elf Golem Metal Exploding Gun Martian Exploring Geek Machine Employed Government Manly Exploding Gift Mahavishnu Existential Guru Mahatma Eugene Gandhi Moronic Epileptic Gimp Matrix Encompassing Gram Man Exits Gash Make Ending Good.


Assignment #9
April 1, 2005


We Put The Ass Thalassocracy

The pigeon alighted gently on the cold sill with a message to myself, Etrusken, from the lovely maiden, Meganus. I spilled some seed for my fine feathered friend and carried the tiny bound scroll to a chair by the newborn fire. "The ceremony is to begin at five in the evening on the twenty-third of April" it read. I dashed off a quick reply to her P-mail: "I shall arrive with trinkets and baubles!" bid the brave bird a safe journey, and prepared a cup of tea. The ceremony dear Meganus referred to was annually held to ask of our people's fate at the oracle of Adelphia. Murmurings of catastrophe, cataclysm, various abominations, and evils never heard before were spreading through the villages throughout Etruria. It all started with a plague of madness in nearby Daturia, where horrible beasts with names such as The Bush Adminis and the Prick Chainy were rumored to rise from the deepest, darkest pits of oil and terrorize any who dared use rationality or seek wisdom. Hopefully a journey to the oracle will prove these frightening prophecies false. If not, we will simply have to party like it's 499. My wife, Isis, and daughter, Isisn't, are on holiday with her pompous art collector friends in Pompeii and will not be able to attend, but I will have Meganus to accompany me, if you know what I mean. I shall pass my foreign ship through her Straits of Gibralter! Do not judge, future reader, if your way of life now differs. This is simply how it is. Live a little. No. Live A LOT! As my little Jewish friend, Agamel Brooks, says: "C'mon!You do it. You know you do it. We all do it. We love to do it. You do it....You wanna do it. I do it. I love to do it. I just did it and I'm ready to do it again, don't tell me you don't do it!"

Or as I wrote in a secret note:

With the passion that thou arises in me
I could fill a terracotta
And since it's a free society
I really think I oughtta
Because you said you'd still want me
Evenst were I a Typhon
Your richly flowing ecstacy juice
I readily wouldst siphon

Now where is my naked slave girl? I must prepare my body for the ceremony and have my buttocks waxed. Brittany! Bringest though dainty hands forth and sharpen my spear! Polish my sword! Ah, there thouest are. Comest, tut tut, and remove thy tutulus. Tis time for my morning massage. I am suddenly aroused at my remembrances of last Lupercalia. Do you recall the day I first laid eyes on thy sweet virgin rump? Thank Tiv for pedophilia. In fact, I paid Ophelia, your former owner. Yes, I paid to feel ya and I got a good dealia. Ah, Ophelia, she was my favorite art history instructoress. Always attempting to draw her students attention the sexual organs depicted in various works. Phalluses, vulvas and breasts. Oh my! I did quite well in that class. Normally, I wouldn't go out of my way to put such effort in to attending and fulfilling assignments, but ol' Olphelia made it worthwhile with regular mid-day orgies each week. We would retire from the classroom to the tawdryroom. My ass may have been late to class on occasion, but I was never tardy for the tawdry! And if I was late for class, I'd receive a spanking. Which was nice.

Not every Etruscan is so promiscuous, keep in mind. We have our prudes, just as any society. Some of these poor folk can't seem to get over their hang-ups. They must have been ignored as a child. If they were molested, like most children, maybe they'd have turned out normal! But they are the very narrow exception and we Estruscans are, in the main, an extremely horny people. That is, to say, we are HUMAN! Our sexuality is what makes us Humanists. Our motto is: "We got these things down there, why not use 'em?" But don't quote me on that, as I am an opium addict. Even our instruments of navigation have names like "sextants" and we have units of measurement such as the "sextarii." And being a scribe and poet, my lot are some of the horniest bastards of them all. If doom ist destined to come upon the land, I shall lay these words down in a safe place, along with all the other crap I've written, for future generations to discover and ponder. And pleasure themselves to. My dirty prose shall be nestled snug deep in the dirt of mother earth to be lifted, perhaps hundreds, perhaps thousands of years hence to a fresh, ripening bosom of a young lady a wandering a countryside I shall never gaze upon. Oh how I sigh at the many lasses whom I shan't never lay myest handst on thyest asses. I enjoy my chosen form of artful expression. I only wish I had something better to write on than these blasted wax tablets! Wax is good for dripping on to thy nipples and such, but as for literary pursuits.....well, there must be an easier way. Some sort of parchment press, perhaps?

We Etruscans also like to drink a lot, Praise Fufluns. And I ain't talking 'bout orange juice. Unless it's mixed with absinthe! At the ceremony, I plan on being as drunk as a poet on pay day. So, basically, it'll be just like any other day. And if the oracle delivers a bad omen, I'll add a "w" to the omen and penetrate it's every orifice. Or I may just drink myself in to a coma. That wouldn't be so bad. A coma is just a comma, where as death is a period (these clever sayings flow from me like a menstruating wench with a new trampoline. That is why they pay me the big bucks!). There has been a food shortage lately, but no lack of booze and nubile young bodies.

Well, I must end my discourse now. Along with preparations for the ceremony, I must pick up some eggs for the Haruspex later tonight. All of this divination stuff grows weary after a while. After all, even if you can predict the future, there's nothing you can do to change it. So what's the point? It just prevents you from enjoying life to the fullest. Why waste so much time thinking about the future when you could be having fun, drinking, and forcing yourself on thirteen year old Kores? But I'm not going to say anything like that out loud. They'll crucify me! I'd sooner vacation in Orcus than go against the grain and speak such blasphemy. Ta Ta!