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Exponentiation 05
n
E exponentiation ezine [5.0] ISSN 1555-693X
http://www.corrupt.org/zine
CONTENTS
I. News
II. Culture
III. Features
IV. Self-Sufficiency
V. Literature
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News
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American Psychological Association Sleep Study
May 9, 2007
WASHINGTON - The APA has recently completed a survey showing a
correlation between technological progress and the average amount of
sleep individuals get per night.
The study shows a nearly perfect relationship between the amount of
television sets purchased in the 1950's and the average amount of sleep
lost per individual after televisions were adopted in most American
households. Similar trends were observed in the 1920's with the arrival
of radio and in the 1990's with computers. Researchers noted that the
decline of sleep can be traced to the Industrial Revolution and the
railroad industry, which began the standardized work day of waking up in
the early morning for backbreaking work as an expendable peon.
While experts suggest that teenagers from ages 15-19 need between 8
1/2 to 10 hours of sleep a day, reports show that on average teens get a
total of 6 and 7 hours. The same holds true for adults, who need around
8-9 hours of sleep for full functionality. This means that there is
literally an epidemic of "teenage sleep zombies" and coffee-addicted
adults living their lives with a minimum of cognitive awareness and
higher levels of stress, anxiety, depression, and impaired judgment.
Researchers cited the early waking hours, noisy streets in larger
cities, air pollution, over socialization, and depression as the main
causes of progress-induced sleep deprivation.
"While it's true that we're getting 3 hours of less sleep than a
hundred years ago," Dr. Mendelstein of the American Psychological
Association said, "we're also in a much better time period. Losing
three hours of sleep is nothing compared to our television, computers,
safety, longer life spans, and freedoms." Dr. Mendelstein advises us
that science will solve the problem of sleep deprivation in the future.
Dr. Mendelstein believes his new book,
"Dreams for the Future: Taming Night and Taming Nature," might be the
key to a future depreciation of sleep aided by science.
Psychologists recommend getting the appropriate amount of sleep every
night to function at full capacity. However, some researchers
cautioned against using drugs. Dr. Tom Kaczynski of Harvard
University's Psychology department warns, "While sleeping pills may
be desirable for restless workers, they withhold REM sleep
and remove the purpose of sleep in the first place. It seems you
can't fight progress with progress."
-=-
Militant Gay Rights Group Vow Retribution
May 15th 2007
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - This morning the 'American Gay Rights Enforcement
Army' have released a press statement promising "violent retaliation
against civil and governmental bodies." The statement comes following
a recent public outcry after eight-year-old Randy Norton, a resident
of New York, discovered sexually explicit videos on a newly bought
media player purchased from a Crazy Benny Electronics store in
Brooklyn last Thursday. The content of the videos reportedly involved
numerous homosexual males engaging in lurid acts that have been
described by Norton's parents as "perverse", "appalling" and
"revolting". The event resulted in public "anti-gay rallies" and
religious marches against children being exposed to sexual material.
The official statement from the AGREA read:
"We at AGREA are deeply angered by this collective outcry of disgust
from the American public against man-man love!
"We believe what this child witnessed is a thing of beauty and the
male homosexual community should not be penalized for this misplaced
videotape. Man-man love is a holy embrace and exchange of the
masculine qualities. Its acceptance and proliferation in popular
culture is the greatest of ideals we hope to achieve in our
democratic society. It is every mans right to have sex with other
men anywhere and anytime they so chose if it is consensual. It is
nobody's right to deny sexual intercourse between two consenting
beings be they man-man, man-boy or man-animal.
"These recent oppressions highlight the bigotry ever present in
American society, we therefore declare war in the name of our chosen
lifestyle. The path to tolerance shall be paved with blood of the
oppressors! If it requires violent retaliation against civil and
government bodies for our voice to be heard, so be it!
"Until we have the rights to sodomy upheld, no one may sleep safe!"
Tim Norton, Randy Norton's father and a steelworker from Manhattan who
is a self confessed "recovering homosexual" had this to say about
his sons discovery and the recent AGREA statement.
"It hurts me to say it but for fifteen years I lived as a homosexual man
in Queens. I was confused and doing a lot of coke and heroine and I
turned to sodomy to lessen my psychological pain. I am not proud of my
actions but I am a different man now, I have a beautiful wife and four
children with another on the way and I am proud to say my erections when
seeing attractive males has drastically reduced in the past six years.
I understand homosexual culture having been one for so long and I am
appalled by this AGREA statement. It completely undermines the deep
psychological pain my son has endured in watching these acts. He has
been asking me lewd questions ever since about his genitalia and its
purpose! This video has also completely stripped my planned fatherly,
"birds and the bees" talk with my son and has introduced him back first
to the culture I thought I escaped ten years ago. AGREA should be
ashamed for hoping my boy sees more of this. He will already have
enough problems if he learns I was once a member of this community!"
A leading commentator on the gay rights movement, Dr. Neusbaum of
Harvard University, had this to say about the AGREA statement,
"The problem for many years has been a lack of institutionalized
integration of gays into the American social, working and
educational environment. This failure on behalf of the American
Government makes the recent outcry from AGREA more pressing and it
highlights our misappropriation of the American homosexual community
at large."
With regards to quelling tensions between militant gay rights groups
and the American public the Doctor had this to say:
"children are the key to our future, through them we may instill and
propagate values that may better lead to a future utopia. I believe
utopia is possible and is not just the stuff of science fiction. This
is why it is of the highest importance that children are exposed to
homosexuality in all its diverse forms as early as possible.
Acceptance is key for the utopia. The sooner the children learn to
tolerate all lifestyles equally, the better."
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Culture
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Music:
Artist: Jordi Savall
Album: The Medieval Fiddle
Label: Auvidis (1994)
Memories from a time now lost echoes throughout this highly emotive
music. Folk songs of epic scale are painted upon a canvas of medieval
spirit. Jordi Savall manages with great feeling to evoke ancient
culture and ways of dealing with existential issues
that always have plagued humanity.
These special moments of lament and awe are expressed through a cold
and empty room of sound, where silence infiltrates between the
occasional percussive sections. As such, "The Medieval Fiddle" offers
the feeling of isolation in its listening experience.
Melodies coming from a soft fiddle often reoccur throughout the songs
and serve as the main musical themes; they establish a general mood in
the listener through high and low volume accentuations. However while
Jordi gravitates towards dominant melodic themes, he occassionally
builds on the basic melody in order to temporarily move away from the
original musical theme of the song, and it is in these moments of
transition that the music feels the most profound and entrancing.
Fans of Dead Can Dance will experience this album as authentic and
inspiring. They will no doubt notice the beginning of "Saltarello" from
a classic DCD album. Where many songs are filled with sorrow and
contemplation, others celebrate the virtues of rich folk culture. The
tense moments built up in songs like "Ritual" and "Dansa de les
espases" most often depend on the perfect balance between the fiddle
and the dark sounds of tribal drums that form the basic rhythm
throughout this piece.
While musically it may not be able to compete with the more advanced
structure of compositions found in medievalist bands like Dead Can
Dance, Jordi Savall's "The Medieval Fiddle" still remains highly
emotional, authentic and honest. This is as close as you can come to the
expression of a lonely and aspiring individual, both engaging wildly in
cultural bonds, and experiencing the gloomy sides of a life that in this
age stand between poverty and happiness. - Alexis
-=-
Artist: Tangerine Dream
Album: Sorcerer
Label: MCA (1977)
In the late 70's, Tangerine Dream was asked to produce the sound
track for William Friedkin's film "Sorcerer." The endevour ended up
turning into a full length album, which today is somewhat of a classic
example of the band moving into mainstream grounds, yet still preserving
the genius of their early career. The music on this album is a more
refined, simple, melodic style than the music found on earlier works.
In "Sorcerer" Tangerine Dream follow exotic melodic schemes to dictate
the overall mood of the listening experience, but they do this liberally
enough for each piece of the music to become a part of something larger.
Gone are the half-hour long journeys of endless tempo changes and
experimenting with harmony, melody and polyphonic rhythm. Instead the
music remains very basic: synth loops run through a synthesizer,
collaborating with a simple key melody that is recycled, accompanied
with sound fillers to create a predictable counterpart in effect.
The music becomes passive in order to serve the film, but at the same
time it contains glimpses of a life of its own and this is where the
album stands out as an experience all its own. Luring, adventurous
patterns sneak upon the listener and feel immediately rewarding, despite
its very minimalist nature. The actual problem with this album is that
the form is split and each piece of the music isn't interconnected with
the others to form one long musical experience. Instead the parts and
fragments of music are tied to specific events in Friedkin's movie.
Moments where pieces fulfill their
role as existentially significant, are also the highlights of this
album and the parts that ultimately make this a rewarding listening
from time to time; the music is brave, shifting in character and also
carries a sense of vague but inherent beauty, which is a quality that
always penetrates the work of this band.
It is apparent on this album that Tangerine Dream at this point in their
career were sliding back and were not creating music that is able to
sustain the listener. Tangerine dreams used to be the equivalence of
classical music in modern, electronic form, but instead on this album
they try to find organic space by using confined compositonal methods to
please the crowd that most likely never will be able to understand their
earlier works. Being a late, directionless product and perhaps the mark
that future albums would become intelligent but mass-produced fodder for
retro-fans, "Sorcerer" is nonetheless an interesting gem in its context.
- Alexis
-=-
Books:
Title: "Next"
Author: Michael Crichton
Publisher: Harper Collins (2006)
Crichton writes in the grey zone between literature, informative
science-based books, and rippingly good pulp. In this novel, he takes
his most literary approach, one reminiscent of Richard Dawkins
re-writing "Naked Lunch," in which characters stumble through an
uncertain world in several overlapping threads united by a common
theme: the confrontation of humankind with genetic manipulation and
the unintended consequences of manipulating a code we only partially
understand.
As literature, Crichton is a bit sloppy. His language remains
consistent, and while functionally descriptive, isn't what one might
call intense reading. His characters are often thin in a way that
approaches a single dimension. When he gets into heavy drama, he's
sometimes awkward. In this book he resolves that tension by writing it
as a tour of different lives that only partially follows any one set
of characters, although they overlap. It's the Quentin
Tarantino-ization of an otherwise clinical style.
Unlike most Crichton books, there are no characters who come to happy
endings and no neat summary of the story at the end. It is a buffet of
insights and tantalizing ideas, but no conclusions. This seems
deliberate, both to promote an air of uncertainty about the book and
to allow it to look at a complex issue without dumbing it down into
Disney-style cause and effect in trite symbols. In this, Crichton
seems ahead of any literature produced since the 1950s in America.
Where he deviates from both literary fiction and pulp is what might be
called "thematic ultra-realism," or the concept that books should be
about ideas impacting the real world. Too much of American fiction at
least is about the drama of characters reacting mutely to a world they
do not attempt to understand, and in the name of "realism" that
becomes greater drama. Since such characters need to move to a
resolution, they start out hopelessly confused and living broken
lives, and then magically bring themselves to a smiling pop princess
press statement conclusion.
Reality is different. Crichton is a political writer taking on
science, or vice versa, and the sense of real impact is what gives
this book a hook into our interest. His book shows us reality, not the
inward drama of lost people, in both its good and bad. We see the
wonders of science, and how they're abused for profit. We see the
gentle and compassionate nature of people, and how that becomes their
undoing. Most of all, we see warts and all a species that is not ready
for its knowledge and cannot control itself, so stumbles from one
disaster to another, unaware that cumulative damage increases.
In this, Crichton should be praised as more of an artist than the
"artists" who make fancy, smooth-reading, pompously egalitarian books
about nothing and everything. What did we learn from a character
transcending his own heroin addiction to find religion in the beauty
of rain under sunlight? Literature has become a self-help section
which tells us to focus on ourselves and our drama, not the world.
Crichton by contrast is a devil's advocate with a sharp whip who
reminds us: we're in control of this world, and we need to start
steering it more responsibly.
Still, his prose is rooted in the pulp of both science fiction and
popular science writings, so the book flies by and is sometimes
unsatisfying. It is a story of ideas, and of the oddly emblematic
situations Crichton weaves: turtles with corporate logos,
human-chimpanzee hybrids, disease tracking markers and magic potions
to change personality. Even more, it is a story that must be read
"outside the story" to see the interactions between these developments
producing a world that, it is hinted, we the reader still possessed of
a soul might not enjoy. - Vijay Prozak
-=-
Title: "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"
Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
Publisher: Penguin Books (2003)
Long before Alfred Hitchcock gave Norman Bates a mad mother, before
Freddy appeared at the movie screens in "A nightmare on Elm Street",
and fearless Romanticists of the modern age could exclaim "I'm an
other at night," Robert Louis Stevenson set out to shock the whole of
Britain with psychological terror. Indeed, with his remarkable tale of
psychological and criminal suppression, he managed to terrorize the
unsuspecting readers, forcing them into a position of unrestricted
self-reflection of moral and social transgression never before
experienced.
"The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" tells of a lawyer named
Utterson, whose friend Dr. Jekyll is experiencing troubles with an
unknown individual called Mr. Hyde. When Utterson is given
Jekyll's Will, explaining in detail how Mr. Hyde is supposed to inherit
a large sum of money in the case of an eventual death or disappearance,
he starts to feel that something is very wrong.
As it turns out, Jekyll refuses to give out information on who his
secret friend is and why he's so important. In the mean time, a
gruesome murder of a man named sir Danvers Carew is revealed, and the
murderer seems to be none other than Mr. Hyde himself. As the story
expands through uncertain individuals and strange occurrences, lacking
all sense of logical reasoning, the brutal truth is finally revealed;
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are one and the same.
Through his brilliant narrative way of pushing the boundaries of
contemporary horror, Stevenson managed to unfold a gruesome depiction
of man as dual in nature that sparked endless analyses on behalf of
psychologists, Darwinists and Romanticists alike. In Stevenson's
story, Jekyll is struggling with his evil side, which is trying to
take over his good side, and become the dominant personality in both
physical and abstract (thinking) expression. Making this process even
more complicated, Jekyll is revealed not as "good" in opposition to
Hyde as "evil", but as mere representation of the human individual as
a whole, including Hyde (thus transcending the dualistic state from
which the story begins).
While Jekyll is described as a handsome looking and well-tempered
person with many friends, Hyde is seen the complete opposite:
primitive, indulgent, amoral and liberal in individual expression.
Hyde has no limits, and even takes pride and joy in crossing the
morally and socially acceptable limits of society - both murdering
innocent people and engaging in other untold blasphemies. What is
interesting is Jekyll's extremely complicated relation to his "evil"
side; while Hyde always has been a natural part of Jekyll (in the
sense of urges that wish to be set free), Hyde is also a psychological
creation of Jekyll's conflict with the collective conscious (society).
"Jekyll had more than a father's interest; Hyde had more than a son's
indifference. To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to die to those
appetites, which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to
pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a thousand interests
and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and
friendless." (Stevenson, Robert Louis, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde and Other Tales of Terror", p. 63, Penguin Books)
As Jekyll tries to hide his secret urges he automatically becomes
ashamed of a natural part of himself and thereby works to form a
growing bad conscious. This mechanism eventually grows to the point
where Hyde gets loose, to free Jekyll from both his own and society's
limits of social and moral acceptance. In other words, Jekyll is both
"good" and "evil", which naturally places him in a dualistic state;
but, as these are inseparable, Hyde is a part of Jekyll, and Jekyll is
a part of Hyde - ultimately, there is no distinction.
While this can be seen as a metaphor for the paradox between the
abstract (Jekyll/social urges) and the material (Hyde/physical urges),
where both depend on each other even if the latter is demonized as
"evil", "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is far deeper and
more complex than this. Similar to what philosophical thinkers such as
Nietzsche realized, our distinction between moral "good" and "evil"
ultimately normalizes itself down to a neutral point of view, which is
that of the emptiness found within feral nihilism.
The more Jekyll tries to hide or demonize his natural urges (the acts
and deeds committed by Hyde are simply narrative ways of further
emphasizing this fact), the further his bad conscious and focus on
evil(similar to how Judeo-Christian morality eventually becomes
completely absobed by individual death and suffering, and in order to
ventilate this internal conflict, becomes a virus, leading to
psychological conflicts and physical expressions of amoral thinking)
grows, until Hyde eventually destroys Jekyll from within. In other
words, the moral and social outlook of both Jekyll and his social
surroundings lead him to a state of complete nihilism, where Hyde is
Jekyll, and Jekyll cannot survive with - or without - Hyde.
While Stevenson's story about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has led to endless
debates in all aspects of science, evolutionary theory, class, and
sexuality, our final understanding and learning from this baffling
masterpiece in Gothic psychological horror is that a dualistic outlook
on life is contra productive. There is no evil so great in this world
that it does not carry elements of good, and while moral preaching's
that demonize our natural urges and instincts may sound "reasonable"
and "ethical" in appearance, the actual progress of such thinking
taken to pragmatic effects becomes devastating. In this sense, Jekyll
was subject to the very laws of nature that he wished to escape
through social means, and even though readers of "The Strange Case of
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" will even today find their hearts beating fast
to the descriptions of a madman gone lose in the foggy city of London,
the actual realization that Hyde lives within us all, and that we
willingly choose to deny his very existence, is perhaps the most
shocking of all truths derived from this unbelievable contribution to
world-class horror art. -Alexis
-=-
Cinema:
Cannibal Holocaust
Dir: Ruggero Deodato
Release: 1980
Long before pseudo-documentaries like "The Blair Witch Project" had
even been heard of, Ruggero Deodato began filming what would become
one of the world's most famous horror movies ever made. The story is
about three young filmmakers who travel deep into the Amazon jungle to
make a documentary about cannibal tribes and their natural habits. Two
months later they vanish. A professor from New York begins his journey
to search for the missing filmmakers.
The film takes us deep into the jungle where the law of nature still
prevails and determines life and death. On his search, the
professor becomes acquainted with different tribes of cannibals that
live near riversides and beaches. He is first met with distrust and
suspicion. Later on, he finds out that the cannibals have killed the
filmmakers, something he cannot understand, but which surely must have
something to do with the attitude of the tribes.
While home, he's asked to hold a series of documentaries about the
filmmakers and air the films that they shot while in the jungle. When
exploring these films, the professor realizes the brutal truth: the
filmmakers have burned down villages, raped women and killed animals.
They have therefore been slaughtered and eaten by the tribes, as an
act of pure revenge.
"Cannibal Holocaust" is not your regular horror film. It's shot in the
now-common "shockumentary" style, where the viewer is treated as
beholder of a real documentary, giving the film an authentic feeling,
as well as an uncertainty of what exactly is going on. This film often
goes from theatrical to documentary type of shooting, where the latter
serves as presentation of shocking material and is the main driving
point behind the entire work. Many scenes are surprisingly brutal and
rough, including actual killings of turtles, pigs and monkeys, as well
as graphic depictions of rape, mutilation and slaughter.
While this film shocks, it also brings up a subject of relevance:
today there is a collision between traditional culture and
Americanized consumer culture. We in the West often like to believe
that our culture is the dominating and "civilized" one, but who is the
real savage? Ruggero Deodato asks us this question in his portrayal of
ignorant white teenagers burning down villages and raping women. It's
easy to condemn this film for provoking a feeling of cultural
relativism, but this is not the case.
On the contrary, "Cannibal Holocaust" seems to suggest that evolution
is dynamic: each tribe organizes itself after its unique habitats and
surroundings. The cannibal tribes use ancient rituals and strict
cultural sacrifices in order to maintain a form of eugenic standard.
The peoples of the Amazon jungle live close to nature and see it as its
God. When the filmmakers intrude on their natural environments, they see
people living in "the stone age", without access to cars or
computers. They therefore believe that they are "above" the primitive
tribes, resulting in the total lack of respect for humans, culture and
nature alike.
Ruggero Deodato is an excellent director and knows how to push the
lines in order to provoke realism and cultural debate. By forcing us
to behold the conflict between our Western view on ancient cultures
and presenting a world of natural selection, murder and sacred
marriage, we automatically re-value our respect and understanding for
nature and the people who have chosen to live by its laws as well as
our own culture and way of living. As such, "Cannibal Holocaust" is a
truthful, although sometimes brutal, insight into the conflict of
modernism and naturalism, and its impact on us living in the Western
society today. -Alexis
-=-
300
Director: Zack Snyder,
Release: 2007 (117 minutes)
In short, this is a comic book turned into a movie with video game
aesthetics, telling the tale of the 300 Spartans who died fighting
back parts of the Persian army at Thermopylae in 480 BCE. The very
fact that the introduction rather cheerfully depicts the eugenic
conditions of Spartan adolescence, and that the almost two hours of
film are filled to the brim with (some, historically accurate) lines
mirroring Spartan warrior ethics, could make this movie into a nice
slip road from a seemingly endless stream of movies focusing on the
quite tiresome theme of modern individualism.
But that's only on the surface. In one scene, the Spartan king
Leonidas (Gerard Butler) lectures on the importance of the army
keeping together, using their shields to protect each other, and
consequently creating a strong unity. In combat, this unity is
initially kept, but then each Spartan runs along towards his own
one-on-one battle, showing off a few hokum stunts. Interestingly, this
is quite a precise parable for what makes this movie collapse: there
is nothing keeping it together. This makes the movie, at its heart,
into the very opposite of what it is set out to be. The exterior of an
over-blown praise of an interpretation of Spartan life, accompanied by
mediocre acting, blue screen animations, Hollywood sound effects, Nu
Metal riffs, billions of slow-motions, and the constant use of the
increasingly obscure concept of "freedom," will most probably
entertain some people. But beneath all this, there is nothing. Those
who seek art that beautifully portrays heroism, will not find it here.
Not even the debate on whether the movie draws its motivations from
current politics or not is very interesting. Instead, what makes this
work sort of fascinating as a phenomenon, and meaningful to review at
all, is that it's an excellent example of the extreme contrast between
modern and traditional thinking, and of surface versus content. These
filmmakers take some ingredients from the past, but don't know how to
deal with them other than by throwing them into a stew of modern
decorations and purposes. While awful as a movie, and hardly worthy of
ancient Sparta, at least "300" stands as an unintentionally comical
monument of contemporary misunderstandings. - Ensittare
-=-
Food:
JIHAD FAJITAS
So you've got a hankerin' for something Tex-Mex you can stuff in a
tortilla with some lettuce and tomato and onion and make really tasty?
This recipe is fast because it involves marinating your fajitas, and
then cooking them quickly, slicing them and slapping the meal on the
table. Versions for both carnivores and herbivores (or for us
omnivores, make both).
1. Substrate
a. Meat
Get some cheap flank steak, brisket, or shoulder. The cheaper the cut,
the longer you soak it.
b. Vegetables
Bell peppers, squash, sweet potatoes and red onions
c. Meat analogue
Tofu, blended and compressed chickpeas or beans, and nutritional yeast
With any substrate, the importance is keeping it cut in slices no more
than .75 inch thick.
2. Marinade
3 tsp lime juice -or- vinegar
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp cumin
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cayenne
2 cloves pasted garlic or 1 tsp garlic powder
1 tbsp pasted onion or 1 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp dill
Paste garlic and onion together in food processor or by cutting into
little bits and pounding with curvature of heavy spoon. Mix
ingredients in refrigerator-safe container, dump in substrate and let
soak overnight - at least. The best thing about this recipe is you can
prepare marinade a few days in advance and cook as needed. I've kept
meats in this mixture for up to a week with no degradation. If you're
going to store it longer, add more vinegar!
3. Cooking
Take well-soaked mixture and put in open pan with 1/2 inch of water
surrounding it. Pre-heat oven to 350 F. When oven is heated, insert
pan and cook for 10-20 minutes depending on amount of substrate. Cut
into thin slices and serve with diced tomato and onion, chopped
lettuce and shredded cheese.
JALAPENO PESTO
From the land of Texas comes a bastardized Italic creation like
nothing else: the savory sauce pesto with jalapeno overtones. For the
strong of heart.
Ingredients
2 cups washed basil leaves
1 jalapeno pepper
2 cloves garlic
1 walnut or 2 pine nuts
1/2 cup olive oil
Over low-medium heat, place oil in saucepan and warm up. Slice
jalapeno, removing seeds (pitch into garden for free jalapenos in 2
months) and slice into strips. Place these in warming oil. After five
minutes, remove oil from heat and extract jalapeno strips. These can
be used elsewhere as they still retain much of their flavor. Let oil
cool completely.
Wash basil leaves and pitch into food processor relatively quickly,
and blend. Dice garlic and nuts and throw these in as well. Pour in
oil and blend again. Makes 1.5 cups of excitingly exotic pesto. -
Vijay Prozak
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Features
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Surviving Modernism Through Life and Death
Today there is a lot of discussion revolving around the possibility of
a traditional art form, breaking the boundaries of modern subjectivism
and materialism. For many artists the main problem with modern art is
the unhealthy focus on crossing conventionalism with
traditionalism in an attempt to establish a new art form free from
its forerunners. It is said that modernism is the focus on the human
mind and its revolt against the physical boundaries, maintaining
natural laws and limitations. We see it in the denial of ethnic
differences, in "equality" between individuals, in "relativistic art",
but perhaps most clearly, in the worldview of modern man: the human
individual is the central creature of the cosmos and, as such, is seen
as the highest form of idea in the universe.
Several artists raged against this social conception, interpreting it
as a crime against the system in which we all live. They based their
ideas on the inseparability between object and subject and, as such,
denied the modern worldview where the human mind is thought to enact
total control over its physical surroundings. This journey proved to
be confusing, dramatic, and close to impossible - but their strong
wills aroused their senses with courage to live in a world they hated,
and to create something out of the past, presented for people living
today. Two of these heroes are the modernist writers Hermann Hesse and
Thomas Mann.
It is said that it took Hesse about six weeks to finish his novel
"Steppenwolf", hinting that this period in his life included personal
crisis. The story is about Harry Haller, a lone wolf living in a room
rented by an old lady and her son, hiding from the bourgeois city with
its jazz music, sex, democracy, and modern materialism. His life is a
secluded one, completely isolated from the world around him. Haller's
passion is classicistic art, namely Goethe and Mozart. These figures
represent a clean, sparse, traditional, idealistic art, expressing the
nobility of the European soul. Harry devotes most of his time reading
literature and listening to music, now and then visiting the city at
evening to eat and drink.
One night when he's out walking, he meets a strange man who hands him
a treatise. The book is about himself and his conflict between
idealism and moralism, human and wolf. It analyzes his mental
condition as suffering from a modern form of dualism, where the
liberal society forces him to morally restrain his life, pushing him
back into his room and art - the place where he can unleash his animal
inside, the wolf that celebrates the aristocracy and heroism of past
glories. The treatise is cold and logical, but also sad and
despairing. It ends with a call for Harry to realize the potential in
his multiple personalities, to deconstruct his binary vision of moral
right and wrong, and find his inner self by exploring categories far
beyond "human" and "animal". Harry is left alone with his destiny,
tackling it through a woman, Hermine, he meets in a bar and a jazz
player called Paulo. In the end, he is only wolf - a wolf with a laugh
on his face.
Thomas Mann wrote a similar novel on the thematic platform that Hesse
built through "Steppenwolf". It is called "Death in Venice" and is a
more allegorical and symbolic story about the author named Gustav
Aschenbach, a lonely man celebrated for his great books, but in
reality a very sick man. Aschenbach's view on art is a modern one: he
believes it is possible to achieve idealistic art by morally
perfecting his behavior. This causes an inner clash between the birth
of art (emotional and experiential) and his attempts to reach it
(morality and perfection).
His condition becomes so bad that one day he needs to travel away from
his current home. Aschenbach decides to visit Venice, a place on earth
he loves very much. While in Venice he checks into a hotel and notices
a young, blonde boy named Tadzio. Aschenbach falls deeply in love with
this young boy, almost possessed by his unnatural beauty, innocence,
and perfection. In Tadzio Aschenbach finds something that suddenly
disturbs him: he's beautiful only through the inner senses, thereby
free from moral perfection; this slowly breaks down Aschenbach's view
on art, forcing him to realize that beauty does not inherently
exist within social constructs but exists as a manifestation of
something that an artist is able to perceive only by experience and
emotion. Aschenbach becomes more and more sick, and after having seen
that Tadzio's physical appearance isn't as perfect as he first
thought, his mind cannot take it anymore, and it drags his physical
condition down; once again he is forced to leave.
What these two novels have in common is a basic thematic denominator:
two modern individuals trying to achieve and experience the noble
idealism of past European art, and at the same time, living in an age
of liberalism, democracy, and populism. This forces them to morally
restrict their behavior, thereby giving birth to an inner dualism, an
inner conflict between idea and form, heroism and morality. The two
traditionalists are exposed to their opposites in an attempt to break
the modern dualism and become one with idea and art. Harry Haller is
drawn by Hermine into the bourgeois lifestyle, something for which he
has great contempt, dancing to jazz music, visiting restaurants - even
having sex with women he doesn't love. Gustav Aschenbach experiences
a Venice plagued by a growing disease, covered up by the government
authorities. In reality Venice is a physical manifestation of
Aschenbach's inner mind, growing increasingly uneasy over the
uncontrollable love for Tadzio - a love he knows is morally forbidden,
especially since the motive is emotional and not platonic.
The result of these experiences are for us dramatic and chaotic: at
the end of Hesse's novel, Harry is forced to explore his inner mental
state by visiting a "magic theatre" - a Freudian look into his own
mind. There he is able to experience the collapse of the Western
world, the love of an unlimited number of women, and the perverted
plays demonstrating the conflict between moral man and amoral wolf.
Harry ends up stabbing Hermine, his feminine bourgeois side, to death,
having realized that the modern lifestyle is not to fear or despise as
that is the origin of his inner dualism. He rejects the modern disease
by recognizing its inherent emptiness of value. Gustav comes to a
similar conclusion when he realizes that there is no hope for him to
escape the plague in Venice; he is one with the sickness and only
after accepting his emotive love for Tadzio and seeing past his
imperfections can he continue writing on a novel intended to become a
masterpiece. In the end he sits in his sun-chair, looking at the sea,
while Tadzio stands in the water waving to him a last good bye: the
artistic ideal is becoming one with the waves of eternity - but too
late.
What we may learn from these allegories is a key to the survival of
modernism and the continuation of idealistic art; it is the
realization that moral restrictive behavior is a dead end. It is so
easy for us to revert back into our egos and live secluded lives where
no people can hurt us, free from the city and its madness. Thus we
become a Harry Haller - torn between our wolf, alone in our private
confinements experiencing a time now past, and human, trying to tackle
the things we all must face in modern society: tedious jobs that kill
our passions, discussions about politics with empty people that talk to
look good, dance clubs for lost souls to find collective peace; we are
trapped in a time not meant for us. How do we tackle it? How do we
preserve our Faustian spirits? How do we combine social disease at day
and Beethoven at night? Are we, the idealists from another century,
destined to walk this earth as dualists? Where is our escape, our hope
for the future?
When Harry Haller realizes that he needs to find a way to deal with
modern society, but still preserve his idealistic spirit and hope, he
at last faces Hermine and decides to kill her. His feminine opposite,
the Harry Haller at daytime in society, becomes a natural part of his
human creative soul. As Mozart exclaims in Hesse's novel when he finds
a sad Haller raging against the horrible noise from the radio: under
the distortion we may find a structure of life, of spirit, of
idealism. Yes, it is horrible, but to deny it is to commit suicide.
The only way, says Mozart, to escape the pitiful existence of a lone
wolf destined to either become a split personality (Harry Haller) or a
decaying soul watching the ideal escape from him (Gustav Aschenbach)
is to laugh at the insanity of our modern time. The key to success is
to go beyond the conventional dualism (human at day, wolf at night)
and join these two together, exploring all of the characteristics
found within yourself and using them to your advantage in the quest
for eternity.
If we do not find peace within ourselves, we will end up like Gustav
Aschenbach: dead, yet still longing for beautiful art and noble ideals
to once again rise from the dead. If we say no to our social life and
no to anything connected with the society in which we live, not only
are we left with a disease without medicine, but also an impotent life
deprived of a natural part of us: happiness. There is no way out from
a life in isolation. We must dare to face the social, popular, common
side of us, dare to face our inner jokes of which Mozart so mockingly
speaks.
However abstract or pragmatic this may sound, all Steppenwolf's
reading this know who they are and whether or not they suffer from the
same disease that plagues Harry Haller and Gustav Aschenbach; trust
me when I say there is no point in denial. The strength, contrary to
what we may believe, lies not within the Steppenwolf, but in the wolf
as a whole, in the animal being able to transform into human and live
out that side as if it was a part of him. For the desperate ones: I
have no complete solution, nor any definitive answers to a path
leading to absolute success in this dilemma. However, like I
understand the greatness of Mozart, I firmly believe in the ideas of
Hermann Hesse and Thomas Mann. I believe they have something important
to tell us, and that, indeed, it is reading only for the Steppenwolf's
and Aschenbach's. These are basic ideas which all people on some level
can understand, but not necessarily to which they can relate, unless
they are a disguised Haller or Aschenbach, perhaps in a search for a
more complete life. Is there a way to believe in traditions and ideas
from centuries ago and still manage a normal life in a modern society
gone mad?
I often ask myself this question and will be perfectly honest with
you, the path to eternity is long and covered in mists. It is like
walking through the woods on summer nights when the humidity from the
fields condenses and becomes large white clouds of fog. You wander
alone at night, releasing your inner wolf to declare both war against
the lights from the city and your passionate love for nature, and
struggle to the peace found at night under the starlit sky. Somewhere
up there lives Goethe and Mozart, looking down on us misplaced souls,
perhaps with anger, perhaps with a mocking smile. But as I walk, I come
to think of what past heroes have said, what their lives communicate
with mine - and suddenly, I feel the truth is closer than ever; we are
and always will be wolves, wolves with bitter laughs on our faces.
-Alexis
-------------------
Self-Sufficiency
-------------------
Buying Staple Foods in Bulk
Most people pay expensive store prices for their food. These store
prices are often more expensive than the food itself should cost. Most
of the excess store costs for the food we buy comes from the packaging
and marketing of the product. Obviously packaging and marketing are of
much less value than the food itself, so why pay for it? If you are on
a tight budget, or even if you are financially fit, you can cut down
your food bill costs by changing what you eat and how you buy it. One
approach to saving money while still eating good food is to buy staple
foods in bulk.
There are a variety of foods that can be considered staples. Staple
foods are usually those foods that are easily accessible, have a
high-energy content and are able to be stored for long periods of time
without perishing or spoiling. Four of the most common and accessible
staple foods are beans, corn, rice and wheat.
Beans:
Beans are a long time staple food that can be cooked a diversity of ways
to increase taste. Beans are high in carbohydrates and protein and come
in a variety of types. Black, red and pinto beans are three of the most
common culinary bean types in the United States. Beans by themselves
don't always supply your complete protein needs, but when they are
combined with rice or corn your bodily protein needs are often met.
Many modern American's buy their beans precooked in cans. Don't. Not
only do canned beans not taste as good as beans cooked from scratch,
their nutritive value is reduced, the price is more expensive per ounce
and you are putting your trust in the industrial canning process. It is
most likely that American's buy their beans in cans because they are
pre-cooked and flavored. This is not a good enough reason to buy canned
beans, as beans are one of the simplest foods to cook from scratch.
Dry beans can be bought in bulk. Your local supermarket should have dry
beans in at least five-pound bags. Look for them next to the legumes.
It is recommended to buy as much as you can store at any given time.
This will give you an extra supply in case of an emergency. If you are
not satisfied with buying in five-pound increments, you can buy ten,
twenty-five or fifty pound bags of beans from most natural food stores.
Depending on the size of the bag, it may need to be ordered by your
local natural food store. You can often get discounts from the store
when ordering in bulk, as they don't have to waste their time stocking
the goods.
Rice:
Rice is another good staple food to buy in bulk. Like beans, rice can
be bought in five-pound bags from your local supermarket. Rice can be
difficult to cook for some, however it is simple as long as you follow
the methods labeled on the package. A rule of thumb is to have two
parts water to two parts rice. Place the rice and water in a pot and
bring it to a boil. If you let the water boil off and don't forget to
stir occasionally your rice should come out fine.
Brown rice is recommended over white rice as brown rice is less refined
and as such contains more nutrients and helps prevent colon cancers due
to its high fibrous nature. If you want to buy rice in larger
increments, check with your local supermarket or natural food store.
Rice can be prepared many ways. It can be boiled and then eaten with
beans and corn or whatever other dish you choose, or it can be fried.
You can also boil it along with some milk and then add cinnamon,
raisins, and cranberries to the concoction to create a unique and
healthy dessert.
Corn:
Corn is another versatile staple food. Combining corn with rice, beans
and another vegetable or fruit virtually completes your dietary needs.
Many American Indian tribes in the eastern United States had corn,
squash and beans as their staple foods as these foods supplied the
majority of their dietary needs.
Dry corn can be bought in bulk from you local natural foods store or
from your local feed and grain store. Buying from a feed and grain
store is cheaper. If you chose this method, note that the corn you get
is perfectly edible, however since it was meant for animal consumption
it has not been as thoroughly cleaned after it has been harvested. As a
result you might find some dirt or bugs mixed in with the corn. This
will require you to do your own filtering of the corn before you consume
it. You can still eat it as is if you like.
When you buy corn in bulk you have many cooking options. You can mix it
in dry with a salad, or you can boil it and season it how you like. You
can also make corn nuts with them by boiling them in vegetable oil or
you can grind the corn into flour using a grain mill and then bake corn
bread or a corn mash with it. There are diverse amounts of ways you can
prepare corn, each providing a different and unique taste.
Wheat:
Wheat is the fourth and final staple food being recommended in this
article. It is easy to buy in bulk, contains a high carbohydrate and
gluten content and certain forms of wheat have a high protein amount as
well (i.e. cracked red winter wheat).
When buying wheat in bulk, you can either purchase it from your local
natural foods store, or like corn you can buy it from your local feed
and grain store. Buying from a feed and grain store is cheaper, however
like corn it means the wheat has not been as thoroughly cleaned after it
has been harvested. If you buy from a feed store, make sure to check
the bag for a bug infestation. Small bugs called weevils often infest
wheat; watch out for them if you buy from a feed store.
Wheat comes in a variety of types. The two main types of wheat are red
and white wheat, with winter and spring variations. Red winter wheat
often has the highest protein count and it is good for baking breads.
White wheat has a lower protein count and is better for baking pastries
and lighter breads. Before buying wheat in bulk do some extra research
on wheat types to decide what type of wheat is best for your needs.
You can eat wheat a variety of ways. You can eat it raw in a salad, or
you can grind it into flour and bake bread. You also can soak the wheat
overnight and it will begin to sprout, which increases its nutritive
value as it turns it into a vegetable as well as a grain.
Conclusion:
Once you purchase your staple foods in bulk you should store them in
reasonable containers such as glass mason jars, or even recycled soda
and milk cartons. If you are using plastic as a storage container be
sure to store it in a place you are sure will keep rodents away as they
can chew through the plastic. Plastic also has a tendency to leak small
amounts of chemical molecules into your food as plastic is made with
petroleum and chemical byproducts. This is more a worry if you are
storing acidic liquids in plastic, however it is possible for the
chemicals to leach into your dry bulk foods as well.
If you are trying a new food it is recommended you buy it in small
quantities first before buying it in bulk. Try a few recipes and make
sure you like the food before buying it in larger quantities. This will
save you the heartbreak of purchasing a food in bulk only to find out
you don't like it.
The foods listed in this article are inexpensive and nutritious. They
should serve as a good and cheap starting ground for learning how to buy
and prepare bulk foods. If you try this bulk buying method you will see
your shopping bills decrease and your health increase. - Gestalt
------------
Literature
------------
Roundness Is My Joy
I wouldn't wish my mind
To ever stiffen to angles
The creeks of my joy
Demand gentle curves
My smile, the roundness of leaf
As my laughter will tinkle
Only on clouds' surfaces smooth
Delightfully unpredictable
Just like!
The veins of a leaf meander...
They are, after all
Children of the Sun - Frostwood
-=-
Erosion and Bones
They sat in the creaking wooden cart in silence: a young man, and a
figure in the blackest of robes. Blacker than the darkest storms, they
adorned a form of indeterminate shape.
"So are you headed up to the old castle?"
The cart moaned as it rolled, testing their balance. The rain poured
heavily.
"...this is pretty miserable weather."
The young peasant looked at the figure, not expecting a response. He
became entranced with fear. Inexplicably, he felt a sudden calm overtake
him. The abysmally black figure stood, revealing a sword in his
leather-gloved hand.
The horses screamed abruptly and the rider was thrown off. His neck
broke when he hit the dirt road; he died on impact. The horses stopped,
confused. Three mighty steeds, as black as the murderous figure, rode
down from the sky, unaffected by the storm. Two of them bore riders
abreast the central horse, which was adorned in a crown of bones. The
riders were adorned in a similar manner as the figure in the cart.
The figure rose and approached the crowned horse and mounted. It removed
its glove, revealing naught but the skeletal structure of the hand and
upper arm of a human being. It touched the horse, and the horse began a
terrifying mutation.
First, its flesh was sucked from it, tearing in a sound so horrifying
that residents in the large, cosmopolitan city in the distance heard it.
The sounds sent parents rushing to their children to lock them indoors.
It was a loud and anguished tear; as the flesh ripped and was drawn into
the figure, the beast screamed. It stood, paralyzed. Slowly, its muscle
matter and its organs were pried from it. The hand was now adorned in a
sagging, yellow flesh. The riders rushed on, and raced into the sky.
On the leering hills before the castle, the grass had yellowed. The
trees in the distance were bare. The young princess, heir to the titanic
and barren castle that encages her, stares outside, the storm raging
violently. She stands at her window and the rain pelts her hands, but
she does not flinch. She sees three riders in the sky and steps to the
back of the hallway, screaming.
"Father!" she cries. A guard runs into the room. He looks at her, and
pauses. His eyes bulge, and in a moment his flesh spreads onto the
floor, his face is stretched loose, and his organs form a lump for his
armaments to rest on. She screams, and runs down the crumbling path in
the open rain, to the main hall of the castle. The guard there stands
and looks at her, and starts trembling. His flesh contorts, and his
face is molded into a revolting, inhuman grimace. He collapses into a
sack of flesh and his armor clatters. The young woman picks up the
sword, examining it carefully. She sees her eyes in her reflection, and
is mesmerized. She touches her fingertips to her warm, pink flesh.
She enters the central hall and approaches a fine and tightly woven
rope. She screams a horrific, banshee yelp, the scream of burning
forests, and cuts clean through the rope. The drawbridge creaks and
snaps. She crosses the room and proceeds in the same manner as before
with the rope on the west side of the room. Her yell reverberates down
beyond the forest, waking the restful in the distant city, and it is
amplified and contorted by the descent and crash of the bridge.
The three riders stood before the gate. Their horses were calm and
poised. The woman approached the rider to her right, screamed with all
the natural strength of her lungs, and slashed off its arm. As it
descended, the cloak faded into the ether, and a bone of an upper arm
and hand hit the ground. With the same rage, she slashed into the sky
and sliced off the rider's head. Nothing made contact with the ground.
The horse rider on the bone steed looked at its remaining compatriot.
They rode off into the storm, as the clouds blackened.
The young woman takes the relic, and proceeds down the central hallway,
to her father's throne in the northern core of the castle.
The doors open before her, and her father, an aged king, sits in his
throne, alert and silent. He stands and approaches her.
"What is the matter, my daughter?" he asks, standing a step above her.
She hisses, foam spitting from her mouth and dripping onto the floor.
She raises her left hand, holding a fist against her father's chest. He
recoils and stands back, a step closer to the throne, looking at the
relic. She cuts off his head, and when it hits the ground she stabs into
it. The force of the blow cracks deep into the stone floor, and the
skull is split in two-the severed portion forming a bowl from which she
drinks and devours his brain. She sits on the throne gripping the sword
loosely and rests; her flesh reflects all radiance and splendor though
her face is smudged with blood.
The sky is charcoal relief with weighted clouds and snow covers the
trees. The path to the castle remains unaltered by the heavy snowfall,
as though it were acrid, ever-burning decay. A solitary rider approaches
the castle, cloaked in starless black. It descends from the skeleton
horse it mounted, and the frame of the creature is returned-musculature,
nervous system, organs and flesh-to the fullness it once bore as a
living being. The howling and yelling it emits shatter the eardrums of
any remaining living creatures for countless kilometers-it is an
inversion of the pitch it yelled so feverishly when its flesh was first
subsumed by the rider. Its pain is brief, and it calmly sniffs the air
with its cracked and dry snout when its form is restored.
The horse rider entered the castle. Snow had crept in where the bridge
had descended, but no snow covered the bridge itself. The cloaked figure
walked like the clouds, entering the throne room as though no time had
elapsed. In the field, the remains of a long dead man barely emerge
above the snow, half buried in the dirt. The ancient princess, pale and
withering, sits on the throne, sword deftly resisting gravity with the
tips of her gnarled fingers. She rises, and the sword clatters against
the frosted stone. She walks toward the robed figure. The figure raises
its hood and reveals a face of incomplete, rotting skin, and loosely
assembled muscles. Only its bust is visible outside the cloak. It
approaches the woman, and they lock lips. From a skeleton against the
stone ground flies swim, and the figure obtains a golden crown. It
adorns itself with this, looking out into the storm. The shimmering of
the crown dulls as it touches against the creature's rotten flesh. It
takes the throne.
Outside, the horse quivers, and its entire being explodes into a fine
mist as its bones are torn from it instantaneously; they are propelled
into the throne room that very moment. The bones dance in the air and
form a throne beside the decaying king, where the queen sits. Her skin
sags and withers, rolling and tumbling as her eyes melt from her
sockets.
In the crumbling, eroded stone ruins of a castle on a warm mountain, the
skeletal remains of a cloaked king and a withered hag lay. They are limp
and sallow; their garments drift in the occasional wind. Outside, the
land is dry and bare. The sky is white, and the trees have become
petrified and dehydrated. The wind blows dust: fine red dust. - Risc
-=-
From Moss To The Blue, I Reach
How I love to soar
Over mountains, over dales
Into the infinite blue
With wings of rapture reach
Cold lands sinking far below
Into the oblivion
When I see the fire of my heart,
The gentle life of Sun!
But as surely as
The silent Winter cape
Shall come to grace my form,
Even a falcon, that swims
On rivulets of mirth
Must sometimes descend
Through boughs and leaves,
The green forest roof
Amidst trees, plants poetic
To the chilling halls
Of purity's palace
Bark burdens my feathers
Mountains appear so vast
When gazing from here,
Midst dimness of life,
On the crust of earth
But what the rapturous blue,
Singing flows of dreams
Would be without faceless stones,
Bitterness of black soil? - Frostwood
-=-
Streams that Don't Flow
Cars zoom under the bridge. They stare down, watching with no fixation
the blurry lights as they bleed into one another. Orange, white, red,
transitional hues. Sometimes gaps where the dwindling sunlight reflects
against the paint of the vehicles: dark green, grey-hardly as brilliant.
It doesn't stop, the steady river of cars and lights. When exhaust hits
their nostrils they cough a little, their stomachs clench. Steve clicks
his teeth as the wind hisses passed them in the open air. Audible chill
ripples through his nerves. His clothes ruffle.
"What's up?" Kyle asks, raising his eyes and looking forward. Hills with
trees line the highway and conceal suburbs connected by the concrete
bridge.
"I'm really high, and it's fucking cold up here."
"Let's get moving then."
Shoes bounce off pavement arhythmically. The wind resists them. Cars
pass-an endlessly moving line, filing and shuffling. Wait your turn. The
procession slows, crawls, and stops. Thin sheets of exhaust drift
upward.
Trails and trees, and out of every one, you see the same thing. Large,
open houses, two door garages. Kids skateboarding. Rows and rows of
houses, and a car to adorn each one. They walk by hastily.
"I know this little stream. One way it just dies off, and you're at a
huge freeway. I haven't gotten to the find the other end yet."
A ready dirt trail stretches in the direction Kyle has turned, grass
cropped on either side. It's dark.
Leaves mosaic, little asymmetrical blocks of color peek through and
where trees are scarcer, coherent images are revealed. Tan-yellow
painted houses behind wire fences. Tool sheds and sky and windows into
kitchens. Steve looks at his shoes.
Squirrels chirp and rotate up trees. Rabbits hop onto the road, where a
car may or may not swerve from them. Rails and steel tubes punctuate the
creek. We're putting a road here, so you gotta make due buddy. We've got
to keep going. You? You'll get along just fine. The creek thins, but
houses become more disbursed.
NO TRESSPASSING-huge plots of land with long driveways where they walk
into the distance through the front yard-grass nicely kept to frame the
wild, knotty, untended fields and short trees. Cars rip by them.
The stream is gone. Bare hills roll out encircled by trees and other
foreign yards. The refreshing drone of high speed rolling time bombs
provides ambiance. They stare at the sky cool and damp in the grass,
passing a joint back and forth. Light is sapped from the sky and stars
fill in gaps. Their isolation has grown over the years. Fine matter
nearly invisible linked them together so smoothly in the sky, but the
evenings darkened and even the moon fought resiliently to continue
showering stolen rays. So, they kept their distance and spoke their own
names weakly. The ponds listened less while still casting a lulling
glow, ever fainter.
Horns fought feverishly and the hum was like automatic feedback, the
soft pitch that resonates the morning after an eardrum challenging
concert. Grass crunches like muted paper under their shoes. Another
stream concealed by drooping willows beyond a house. Harvested land and
young apple trees. Kyle looks down, sighting distant highways. Lights
blip by fast as blinking: orange, red, amber, white. Apartments loom,
pale glows from eternal eyes watching always, ceaselessly observing the
subjugated reaches.
Steve smashes a stick against a metal sign post. It splinters into
thousands of fragments and one half is sent flying. Steve holds the
other half in amazement. It is wet to the marrow, and smells of rot.
Picture of a snow machine and a dirt bike in a column, a glaring yellow
background capturing starlight, wobbling down to a fine vibration.
A satellite tower blinks a red light-on and off-its alternating
red-and-white body puncturing the soil beneath it.
They reach a dull hum of cables. Steel girded towers scream DANGER HIGH
VOLTAGE surrounded by the additional-absolutely necessary-barbed wire
chain fence. Towers stare each other down in their timeless deadlock,
bound with thongs of violent energy. Little bush patterns where boxes
are crumbled; sleeping bags accompany backpacks and brown LCBO bags,
flat and thin. Large, open houses, two door garages. Swerving grids of
houses arbitrarily placed in cul-de-sacs and crescents. Wealthy people
live on crescents, where they drive pricier cars and shop at Wal-Mart.
Their feet express disease in rapid unison; eyes float to arrays of
leaves. Lights and wrapped black cable are revealed in the mosaic.
Wooden poles like crucifixes stand parallel, holding hands to their
brothers', Hallelujah. Kids skateboarding in offensive shirts, because
defiance is okay. Your seed can oppose you, don't worry about it. It's
in the rules, see? Now have a beer and let's watch football. Hey, it's
just teen angst, they'll get over it.
Blue chemiluminescence flickers against curtains projecting through
picture windows. Street lights illuminate spheres in yellowish tint. The
chill deepens as the sky yields to blackness. They disappear into the
indistinguishable yonder. Better suit up, it's a long and lonely
journey ahead. - Risc
-=-
Tears of Winter
Glimmering beads
Tears of a past Season
Once they covered the heads,
Needles and trunks
Of trees of all shapes,
Their faces of bark, rough and smooth
From the womanly features
Of a birch sprouting
New, kindling life,
To the grand cloaks
Of fir trees' eternal might
And also the empty and plain,
Yet quietly pulsing,
Staring gray of stones
In solemn, silent white
They gently draped
In silence, buried
Now, as green hearts
Reach and open their depths
Towards the skies, for the sun
Sacred silence of Wintry temples
Lays long shattered
On laughing rivulets
In rustling branches
As the first messenger,
A joyful bird gliding on
Winds of a long-awaited laughter
Shattered the fine wisps
Of the Wintry spirit, a solemn lord!
Webs woven of still air
And snowfal
l, calm
Broken they hang now
Fluttering far away
As pale, fading memories
A lone gull at the shore
Of my inner sea
Memories
They now gleam within
The untold tears of Winter
Driven away, forced steps
No farewells before the blasting
Of Spring's fiery horns
Sounding light and life
Into thickets mute and dark,
Ponds still asleep
In their frozen dream
Sighs and whispers
Of sprigs rising
Lace the freshness abound
Drowsy creatures' eyes opening
Towards the smiling sun
Relieved, they let go
Of those gloomy, heavy drops
Oh, such grievous departure
But what bliss it is
To not be encumbered!
As they fall and descend
Straight and fast,
Until reaching the still depths
Of earth's gentle clasp
Sun offers solace for these
Torn, wistful hearts
A faint sparkle he sets
Hope within the Seasons
Telling them
There'll be a moon
When they shall lead the lands
Under covers of sleeping cold
Once again, to bless these
Tired woods with a slumber soft
Until then, as memories
They shall remain
Winter spirits under the earth
Wail and wane
Sleeping through times,
Cycling Seasons
Longing for the moment
To finally ascend
But not now...
This time's not for them - Frostwood
-=-
The Void
In enfolding blackness, what nightmares await?
Draped melancholy blankets overwhelm the senses.
What nightmares we mortals explore!
we mortals create!
Sweet misery nips at our souls.
What horrors unfathomable,
forged in our distortions
that eyes cannot see
shrouded in nether, in blanketing ether.
Withered stocks of blind decay
in a torrential world so wild and senseless.
A fury, a storm of nothing
a storm of blackness.
What beauty awaits in dreaded nightmares!
How the black fires of night scorch our sight!
Our senses, muffled and muted to blind chaos,
by blind chaos!
What arises beyond the eyes in hellish night?
A veil pierced by the sky's fiery lights,
a veil of eternity and chaos abound!
of screaming nothings, of gnarling non-sound!
Sick muteness and blindness to all that is dark,
to all that is light!
Speak not in this beauty beyond your eyes,
in the dark shroud you cannot penetrate;
you know nothing of what the void entails. - Risc
[ exponentiation ]
Issue [5.0]/May 22nd, 2007
Published Quarterly
by Corrupt: A Civilization Watchdog
http://www.corrupt.org
With assistance from
Forest Poetry
http://www.forestpoetry.org
and The American Nihilist Underground Society
http://www.anus.com/
Editor: Gestalt
Writers:
Risc
Vijay Prozak
Alexis
Frostwood
Ensittare
"When a place gets crowded enough to require IDs, social collapse
is not far away. It is time to go elsewhere. The best thing about
space travel is that it made it possible to go elsewhere."
-- R.A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love
[EOF]
