HaïkuLeaks / Cable is poetry, via Dan W.
This is how my mind works.
Contact me: firstname.lastname@example.org
...And:Ask me anything
HaïkuLeaks / Cable is poetry, via Dan W.
…Is there a story behind this?
EDIT: there is a story behind this, from its creator Jay Owens, aka hautepop…
“I’m playing with this DIY advert trend I’ve seen on Tumblr lately. Interesting, regarding how consumers create and re-appropriate brand meanings…This specifically, putting Adidas logo on a favela, is about the dreams of football as a path out of the slum, perhaps, but also the extent to which the developing world is aestheticised & romanticised in some of these ‘big concept’ brand narratives. (E.g. an Emirates travel ad I saw recently about ‘globetrotting’, all picturesque poverty.)”
Three Transitions by Peter Campus
Experimental video art from 1973 featuring three creative examples of ‘transition’…
I want this to sound like more than just mashed-together jargon words, but this is atemporal glitch art.
As a culture, we never really moved past Howard Hughes, did we? Maybe we can’t.
Infanta (generative & procedural sketch), based on a 3D representation of Velazquez’s Infanta Margarita (in Las Meninas).
Top, James Wines, Ghost Parking Lot, Hamden, CT 1978. Via. Bottom, scanned plates through torn tissue. Throughout Photography: Its History, Processes, Apparatus, and Materials by Alfred Brothers (1899). Original from the New York Public Library. Digitized May 12, 2008. Via.
The notion was that these cars exist as part of every asphalt parking lot. So we combined them in a way that’s very archeological. They keep repairing it. I wish they’d just let the cars disintegrate because that process would have its own beauty. The first wave of concrete and asphalt was sprayed over them in one homogenized sweep. When you start repairing them, it looks like patch work.
James Wines interviewed by Stanley Moss for BOMB, Spring 1991.
See also, This is the car at the edge of the road, There’s nothing disturbed, all the windows are closed, I guess you were right, when we talked in the heat, There’s no room for the weak, no room for the weak. Joy Division, 11th January 1980, Live at Paradiso, Amsterdam.
My hometown, in case you ever wonder how I got this way.
The really interesting thing is that they still have classic car shows in this parking lot, seemingly every weekend of the summer. Pristine machines are paraded down what amounts to Main St. and stationed in spaces to be looked over. They tore up the sculptures years ago, though.
L reports, “As a child I often found a piece of fiction deeply odd, an iceberg the visible ten percent of which indicated a hidden ninety, only to discover a few years later that I simply hadn’t understood its social or emotional subject matter.” That’s the effect she looks for in her own fiction under the designation uncanny. “It’s always produced by some relational shift of the elements & you have to withold the later moment of understanding.” I say that I think we’re describing the same thing & that I find it easiest to do in a near-to-mainstream short story; though most of the time it’s a quarry pursued & not quite caught. L isn’t beyond abusing what she calls “uncanniness theory”, but says she’s neither content with anyone else’s definitions nor interested in whether the product meets theoretical conditions. “A story tries to open an angle of vision that shouldn’t be there. Look along it. That’s the best I can offer.” In case that fails, she makes sure there’s always plenty of other stuff–horror, the bizarre, people & actions seen from wrenched perspectives, jokes, allusions & narratives that work themselves & the reader into unpleasant corners. “All the gubbins,” she writes to me, “provided traditionally by that kind of fiction.” I write back that the word gubbins dates us both; while she decides that, as a child, she was “a precocious reader but a backward human being.”
…Emphasis mine (though, of course, it’s not mine, not really.)
16/17th Century skull with Sator Square
The Sator Square is a word square containing a Latin palindrome featuring the words SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS written in a square so that they may be read top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top, left-to-right, and right-to-left.
One likely translation is “The farmer Arepo has [as] works wheels [a plough]”; that is, the farmer uses his plough as his form of work. Although not a significant sentence, it is grammatical; it can be read up and down, backwards and forwards.
If “arepo” is taken to be in the second declension, the “-o” ending could put the word in the ablative case, giving it a meaning of “by means of [arepus].” Thus, “The sower holds the works and wheels by means of water”
The Sator Square is a four-times palindrome, and some people have attributed magical properties to it, considering it one of the broadest magical formulas in the Occident. An article on the square from The Saint Louis Medical and Surgical Journal vol. 76, reports that palindromes were viewed as being immune to tampering by the devil, who would become confused by the repetition of the letters, and hence their popularity in magical use.
“The sower holds the works and wheels by means of water.”
The Christ of Havana
photo by Erik Ravelo
…Home of the Vain, photographer Nikola Tamindzic’s “Journal of the Disappointed” is back online after far too long.
Hysterical Literature: Session Two: Alicia
Alicia visits the studio and reads from “Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman.
From Charles Olson’s Projective Verse, his manifesto on a particular school of modern poetry that Whitman began:
"…the HEAD, by way of the EAR, to the SYLLABLE
the HEART, by way of the BREATH, to the LINE
Because breath allows all the speech-force of language back in (speech is the “solid” of verse, is the secret of a poem’s energy), because, now, a poem has, by speech, solidity, everything in it can now be treated as solids, objects, things; and, though insisting upon the absolute difference of the reality of verse from that other dispersed and distributed thing, yet each of these elements of a poem can be allowed to have the play of their separate energies and can be allowed, once the poem is well composed, to keep, as those other objects do, their proper confusions.”
…So listen, carefully, to her breathing.
Games We Play (via Kottke)
"Games" are about rules, not rewards. Rewards are, maybe, incentives we use to get people playing, but its clear they aren’t necessary. Rule-creation and the simple act of rule-following (the act of simple-rule-following) are all that’s required and such systems occur everywhere. See Calvinball and Nomic, a favorite of Hofstadter, or Wittgenstein’s long list of language game manifestations in his Philosophical Investigations:
Giving orders, and obeying them—
Describing the appearance of an object, or giving its measurements
Constructing an object from a description (a drawing)—
Reporting an event—
Speculating about an event—
Forming and testing a hypothesis—
Presenting the results of an experiment in tables and diagrams—
Making up a story; and reading it—
Making a joke; telling it—
Solving a problem in practical arithmetic—
Translating from one language into another—
Asking, thanking, cursing, greeting, praying.
—It is interesting to compare the multiplicity of the tools in language and of the ways they are used, the multiplicity of kinds of word and sentence, with what logicians have said about the structure of language.
This is crazy.
…A little bit closer to The Aleph. Time-bound, industrial-scale voyeurism.
Macbeth, performed in a park. Just after the King meets the witches a second time—By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes. / Open, locks, / Whoever knocks!—wind kicks up, curling corners of bankets, mussing hair, raising hoods. Bright, low clouds are just above. Then, Macduff on his knees, mourning his slain family—Bleed, bleed, poor country!—lightning comes, thunder, rain. Speakers have been rolling recorded thunder since before the play began, but now a murmur grows amongst the audience. The actor playing Macbeth steps out behind Macduff, unseen and grabs his shoulder. “You’ll have to kill me another night.”