Friday, January 22, 2010

Jooking and Vectoring.

Up this morning, I put on the dog-fighting scene from Hideo Gosha's Onimasa, or Kiryûin Hanako no shôgai specifically to see a very exquisite yukata Tatsuya Nakadai wears in that scene, as well as to get some sense of the flavor of the kind of milieu as described by Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney in her _The Monkey as Mirror_, though how historical this film is, I can only guess. But, here is a good picture of a Tosa, or Japanese Mastiff.

A few days ago in the basement, I was making a bracelet with Kara from some odd baroque plastic mood beads we got at a local shop, mixing those with rarer and more precious beads, including some old Venetian glass, and some turquoise, and some glass cube beads that remind me of the look of Thomas Moran's clouds, as well as some sort of very oddly inscribed wooden beads or seed beads from India? The bracelet came out great and we can both wear it, though her wrist is much smaller. It is always such a joy to sit down in Kara's bead library and just string something up, with proper permission and instruction of course, can't just start grabbing! [Not those!] I had picked up some very gorgeous antique abalone or [something naturally iridescent] inlaid bone beads from she thinks Central Asia.

Anyhow, while reading a new book I just got _The Writings of Albrecht Dûrer_ (pardon my rogue diacritic) I started thinking it might be fun to bring something of those cubical cloud glass beads back to a Moran image itself, and finally hit on the idea of throwing some Donald Judd in with the Moran, who I personally like a little better than Turner in a lot of ways. At any rate, I had also been mulling over some snippets of Baudrillard from _Cool Memories IV 1995-2000_ like:

The melancholy of analysis and the analytic superego. The theoretical object finds it harder and harder to regenerate itself through the play of truth. The photographic object, by contrast, regenerates of itself through the play of appearences - no more superego, no more analysis, no more melancholy. The photographic object is apocatabasic.

At any rate, for me, all image in some sense, participates in a "baroque unity of the arts," even
melancholy analytical superego, as in to transcend transcendence is itself trance ending. It's funny. This Dûrer book is like a diary of where AD remembers how much money he spent, and records what stuff he gave to who for what reason. Patti Smith is coming to Portland, but I have to work that night. I bought her new book for Kara. Now I have to go work on the bathroom, and get out of my fancy nightshirt and put on some dungarees.

For your edification:

In March 1507, doubtless immediately after the completion of the 'Adam and Eve,' Dûrer began to paint the ugliest and most elaborate picture he ever made. It was ordered by Duke Friedrich the Wise, and the subject chosen was the Martyrdom of the Ten-Thousand by Sapor II.

It still exists, but it is supposedly a failure. There seems to be some difference in the East and the West. At the top of mind in the East is I believe something like enlightened idleness, while in the West, vast durations of work can be labelled "A waste of time"..

All molecularity is perfected in its own innocence, as poetry. Poetry is the absolute division of language which restores it identically to itself.

Poetry is the one thing which perfectly echoes the reality of the Bio-Singularity
in which we jook and vector.

PS: Notice how the brazier-thing on the Parthian coin echoes the Judd.


  1. Cher Maestro,


    My memory blinked and saw this as on overlay of




    Pure objective subjectivity though, I guess.

    Sorry to have been such a stranger lately, we have this ancient Mac that locks down and freezes whenever it lands on a site with YT clips. Get stuck in a cryo-zone and may neither advance nor escape. Pure retardation.

    Feels like existence.

    For shame.


    and speaking of turquoise, how's this for synchronicity?

    Enduring as much as I could bear of the mammoth boring new age adult video game Avatar with my partner t'other gelid dawn, I thought to myself: Jellybean Weirdo beats this for invention, six ways to Sunday.

    ( For all the CGI crackerjack toys in that bogue box office trick-box demagogical dreamvacationdestination -- the titanic pseudojooker nomm'd it Pandora, in case we didn't get the point slamming our forebrains with a baseball bat -- Wichita Falls has delivered more imagination to creation... no contest... hands down like they used to say.)

  2. Where to begin..
    Thank you Tom!

    would say more, but i am so wiped out.
    i have to go to bed so i can work tonight.

    thanks for reading.


Irrony Observes The Earthing.