Archive for August 8, 2014

ZINC’S DULL REFLECTION


zincbars_slide1Reflecting in the dull, scratched reflection of a zinc counter, too many empty pastis glasses and I look towards the mirror and the sepia light and the prostitute sipping her espresso at the bar, her mouth like a red angry gash, and in the mirror behind her, I see her back, black lace dress, net stockings and then her front reflected from the opposite mirror and then a disappearing corridor of back front back front flipping back and forth into infinity.

And I think to myself: behind me was my continuing education, a phd in philosophy, a professorship, a book, a wife, a life; in front of me was an unknown Paris that had seduced me upon the first whiff of her urine scented perfume. And real prostitutes! Here in real life! and that guy over there wearing the basque, actually is a starving painter! And I am actually Henry Miller and this is my circus of sex and discovery and absinthe and old bar maids with concentration camp tattoos and butchers drinking cafe calvados at 4 in the morning after dropping off their bloody carcasses, half the blood blotting their aprons like they were serial killers meeting for a social.

All that looking from one end of the endless bar to the other.
And then back again.528a0ffbd7340fc005d427eff29d3a2c
From my hindsight glance at my past, how I got here and the anxious certain dread that I at some point, have made a lasting, life long mistake!

And then I gaze in the direction of your Paris street, I so badly need to hurry up to catch what’s around the corner. I used to walk so fast in Paris, I was literally running and no one ever gave me a second glance. In Paris there is always some place to go. But it’s not the future that’s around the corner, it’s more of this, this past, these aspirations, this humble beginning, this arrogant courage, this reckless abandon and the picking up of the consequential pieces and most of all this desire to go on, to keep going to escape from the shadow that is following me. It would have caught up with me sooner and swallowed me whole with the phd, the wife and the life. Instead it’s stopped chasing me; maybe because I’ve slowed, it’s slowed its pace to a stroll.

It knows that I know now where we are heading.
Where we’ve been going all along.

My shadow’s not chasing me anymore,
it’s just casually following out of vague curiosity.


WIN! THE REVOLUTION IN ONLY 2 DIGITS


Last Minute Re-Versioning.  I think it works better now.  Soon we will be launching the animated version of the illustration for the piece by the intensely wonderful and visually lyrical Jeff Christenten.  Thanks to Evan@Madefire.  As well as an original composition for the entire multimedia piece from the  intense genius of Gilad Atzmon.  Please stay tuned.  Please enjoy.  Please comment good or bad.  What’s the difference dantes-hell1?

 

 

THE REVOLUTION IN ONLY 2 DIGITS

 

Home again.

 

Thomas, you were wrong to doubt it:

You Can Go Home Again and

Bask in the healing sun of Osiris

 

This isn’t home

This is recovery.

From the fevered scurvy of my own forgetfulness.

th-1

I eat limes for breakfast, lunch and dinner now;

My bowels move regularly now.

And I feel just like Thomas Payne

 

His bursting desire to model the ideal citizen

 

Not our uniforms, but our blood, sinew and muscle.

To present to the Crowning Glory and

To the Revolutionary Congress and

 

To the Revolutionary French Senate

Thomas and his Pain made the American struggle a personal fight:

The universal pull of the upright ape on the chains holding him down.

REVOLUTION in JUST 2 DIGITS

Chains forged by the forgetful hairless ones.

The ones we will overcome.

But we are not revolutionaries!

 

We are the Revolution.

We are what happens next.

The R/Evolution of our Selves: the inner/outer seeing through Alice’s mirror

 

Into mindful awareness

Into homage to our honored masters and their children:

The ever loving human race.

 

We have already won the revolution.

We have already won the revolution.

 

2 Shots were fired from far, far ago:

One from Lovelace’s boudoir,

Another from Giordano’s spinning wheels and the memory of his funeral pyre.

 

And from the bit of the apple Alan choked down,

We have already won the revolution.

 

We just need to take charge.

 

We have already won the revolution.

 

In only 2 digits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE REVOLUTION IN ONLY 2 DIGITS

 

Home again.

 

Thomas, you were wrong to doubt it:

You Can Go Home Again and

Bask in the healing sun of Osiris

 

This isn’t home

This is recovery.

From the fevered scurvy of my own forgetfulness.

 

I eat limes for breakfast, lunch and dinner now;

My bowels move regularly now.

And I feel just like Thomas Payne

 

His bursting desire to model the ideal citizen

 

Not our uniforms, but our blood, sinew and muscle.

To present to the Crowning Glory and

To the Revolutionary Congress and

 

To the Revolutionary French Senate

Thomas and his Pain made the American struggle a personal fight:

The universal pull of the upright ape on the chains holding him down.

 

Chains forged by the forgetful hairless ones.

The ones we will overcome.

But we are not revolutionaries!

 

We are the Revolution.

We are what happens next.

The R/Evolution of our Selves: the inner/outer seeing through Alice’s mirror

 

Into mindful awareness

Into homage to our honored masters and their children:

The ever loving human race.

 

We have already won the revolution.

We have already won the revolution.

 

2 Shots were fired from far, far ago:

One from Lovelace’s boudoir,

Another from Giordano’s spinning wheels and the memory of his funeral pyre.

 

And from the bit of the apple Alan choked down,

We have already won the revolution.

 

We just need to take charge.

 

We have already won the revolution.

 

In only 2 digits.