| aphrodite's garden volume 7 part 2 - 1987 october | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
Monday 12th October 1987 At the humblest level the hallows may be a little cluster of red painted stones in the corner of a field. Village men and women may deposit before them a few handfuls of flowers or squeezed balls of rice. As well as the general sacred spots of the countryside a village may have its own special hallows in the form, say, of a gnarled and desiccated sacred tree, an old anthill, or even an ancient broken sculpture dug up from the fields. A focal point where the world of everyday spread-out reality and the world of concentrated feeling meet. Hindu Tantric puja is virtually always addressed to one form or another of the goddess. The masculine partner is felt to be more remote, buried in the feminine. The lingam occupies the womb cell in the temple, while the outer displays the feminine. Such forms are felt to be powerful channels thru which love can operate. [little drawing] I always see the goddess whose substance is desire, as male or female in whatever form she is pleased to appear. I see my mother the crazy girl dancing with gentle movements taking up in turn the flute and the sword, binding up and unbinding her hair. Who in the three worlds has the power to break this image to which my heart is fastened with so deep a love. [Lis Rhodes] Dresden Dynamo red and blue, soundtrack in black and white. Wallpaper experiment. Printed without frames, lengthwise flow is turned into vertical bars. Negative. It defeats inference. How fitted is the sound. Solarized. A technological repertoire. The color is turquoise, red and a dark blue where they cover. In sound terms it's light or opacity. Many generations so that sometimes it's a remnant. All the purple reversed, red is what's left of what was turquoise. The length of a section is dictated by what she can contact print. The [square] turns into [circle] A fabric given a voice, a curtain says, with small dots, eee, with larger RRRR. One yellow frame. If she contacts it with itself she trimmed it a bit where the dots stand still. Light Music. Like planetary motion the complication of the --- frame delay. You like people to be smart and on the spot in a game whose rules change rapidly Brigit Riley. Screen split in different ways. Itinerary. What are you doing when you watch. Getting a pattern to stand still by a frequency. Showing frequency of white frames. Getting us to guess wrong. Who's been your best viewer. I like when it goes silent. A frequency that holds still sounds like this. I like when you can see the lag. The interference colors when stripes are close. Underdetermined. What do I really think about DD. I didn't like the synthetic dye color. Got to like the relation of picture and sound tho' it seemed to be like any animated film a post-matched sound. the way it is in lengths and its pattern is like cloth, a length of optical track, lengths laid across, contact prints, generations and reversals. She doesn't have frame line, but the projector when its on clear leader shows flicker. She seems perverse in an ambitious way, shown herself far from love and thereby a master. I felt I'd have to come up with Cheryl's sort of hyper observation to interest her, and won't because as it is with Cheryl it de-centers. I didn't like the sense of her always covering her tracks so inference is defeated, tho' I liked to imagine it might be a really rapid solitary mind making for itself and to test friends a chase through worlds changing their laws every few steps. The way she laughed at me made me wonder if she's a mentat bluffer like Jam. Or a dope traveler in shaman-rivalry viciousness. What kind of projection it evokes, LM is harsh and boring often. I liked it at the start, the inner strip and acceleration and de- and the relation to the track as if it's an image of tho' it isn't. It's an unreliable universe. Why make that? when we have a reliable one to learn. They invite mastery-fantasies and does she have to maintain that pose in person? as I do the mystic aboriginal. Photographs of landscape promote idyllic fantasies about the countryside and ignore problems of access, ownership and work. Feeling in Jill MacGrael, Annabel, Sally an unspoken steering away from my slides. Analysis they say. Show yourself holding yourself above the pagan. The way the voices are squeezed over on one side like someone wincing away from an inner barbarian. I hear my own voice exaggerating American relaxedness and I feel it in the middle of the path, flowing straight ahead and not squeezed over on the right. A physical dislike for Jill MacG, what's she doing in Canada House dressed like a schoolboy, flawless oval face, virginal and in fact unimaginable in sex. (From upstairs in the bus looking down on a punk girl, bleached yellow hair, black tights, silver studded boots, kissing a boy at the bus stop. The way she was doing it, kiss, kiss, and her hand on the side of his neck with one finger touching. Essence. She felt me looking, saw me smiling, smiled too, a pretty, symmetrical face. The way she did it was perfect. It's that roundness I look for in people and see instead an attenuation whose wrongness makes me try to hide my distaste. There was Isabel from Glasgow, immediately something else. She was round. But how. Sara telling a story of a large family. When she was ten, her mom pregnant again, her dad tries to abort her, her mom dies, he's accused and goes to jail.) If they are for some reason squeezed over on one side, they'll need to see things about oppression. 13th When pressed concerning silam inua the universe-being, the old Alaskan shaman Najaqneq replied, All we know is that it has a gentle voice like a woman, a voice so fine and gentle that even children cannot become afraid. What it says is sila ersinarsiniudluge, don't be afraid of the universe. A body filled with crystals The levels of shamanic discourse - a real experience of universe 'metaphysical' - a secondary psychological accounterment of initiation story etc 'psychological' - professional ability and technique 'social-historical' - tricks to protect and exploit 'exploitive' (he says in all religions) In the case of a woman transformed into a man, she cuts her hair, wears man's clothes, take the vocabulary of men and even learns in a very short time to handle a spear and shoot with a rifle. She easily finds a quiet young girl who consents to becoming her wife and at last she marries. She obtains from the leg of a reindeer a gastroenemius which serves her as a male organ; and should she wish to have children in this union she and her wife will enter into a bond of mutual marriage with some neighbouring youth. Chukchi, extreme Alaskan peninsula of Siberia My grandfather has built a new house on the edge of the water maybe. The main thing I notice about it is the system of raised paths with ramps, made of something like shingle, cinder. There are two outer paths in a squared circle and one nearer with a ditch cut through for drainage. He and she are lively, we're marveling how much better it is visiting them since they've renewed themselves. They'd been too long in the old place. There's a long ramp going out into the water, made of the same stuff. Is it a public ramp? Yes he says though I'm assuming it's made at his expense along with his yard. Light reading. 1978 Should I wake her or should I let her sleep longer - flat and fast. A water of letters and numbers. The bed is torn Could she change her mind The black and white drifting over The intimacy. This is the place to go on from if I can get there. Pictures on pink paper. 1982 Gate and music. Muddy. An old woman's voice. Out of place. Hill and wind. Femmy voice. Was it the experience of violence. Wind. An emotion woman. I said stop your banging around. Repeats. Natural histories. A narrative old voice. She was born in Cornwall. Local everywoman. The egg. Is the woman that I woke the woman who woke me? The sound of her voice wrote the words on my mind. Rubbish - she said. If pictures aren't red
Deep in the valley / far from the sun / unseen / by the eye that was under the look of eyes that weren't hers / a pink scene / sharply seen / seems so fine - as the blue sea rose under the quilted waves / the sound of the shadow / overshadowed the scene that was read Leaping into darkness / her back was turned towards a garden they'd arranged / and told her was her place / she replied it was invented to keep her thinking right
It is a dialogue And what's the sight track Kate is the protean one, body; Jackie is the ordinarywoman voice; Minnie is conventional memory Fantasy and experience rush together contained between the hedges of history? Gates of domesticity and sexual control? Contained by common sense - policed by the fingers of violence - wrapped in newspaper and put, privately, into the dustbin - 'unconsciously' - thus fantasy is placed unknowable because it is unheard To make a rich powerful mix No one can have the same itinerary Then the birth story The way was backwards Is the woman that I woke the woman who woke me? Concrete and abstract wrenched together in the language Her voice scares me. It sounds as if it has swallowed many. She sounds like a troll in a hole. More now than then. A troll in a hole with a radar screen. Countered with the brilliant courageous supple voice of "Kate" that's closer to my own mobility. She extends her voice into four plus, but the eye is always the same. It's that I reckon she's my age or younger, a woman and my better, in a same way as Jam, masculinely. Then I feel myself femmish. Then I remember where I got to by digging in where I stood in blissful staring and journal writing. Before I meet her is there any way to find myself in it. 14 Dreamed he's a shorthaired boy-looking quite young person, four of them under a scaffold they're using for a complicated shot. The way she tears the images, 2, 4, many, keep them moving. The voice dancer, authority, the 'woman' tradition. This time I was hearing the voice drama. Alright but what was I seeing. Color, pink, pink sun, leaves but unparticular, much close coming to far. Is the woman I woke the woman who woke me? Jill changed into a business body and nicer. Lis is too famous it seems. I was sitting in the reading room with my eyes closed contacting fright about this aft, saw his image, said with certainty "hello". When I opened my eyes his stuff was by a chair, he arrived again later. 'Perception' and Goethe. The slides look compact and coherent and intense. [going to show slides to Annabel's class] 15 Huge elephant whizzes past. One piece of corrugated sheet metal curved and cut set on a railway car [drawing]. [I meet Lis at her house.] Eyes said one thing voice another. Eyes said, it's alright. Then we looked. Except when there turned out to be someone called Kenneth and then I was looking somewhere else. So what was it like. She set me a quiz. Dorothy Richardson and Gertrude Stein, do you feel how they are the same? So I felt for it. They are both - I didn't have it till then - phenomenologists. Yes they are. I was looking at a face I wd never have expected to love, and what it was about it was the mouth. It's thin, turns down, is very strongly strangely outlined. It is the face I heard, but less body behind it. A thin small body, covered, slightly hunched. Long beautiful thin hands broad at the thumb. But what is this face. Singular they'd say, witchy. She shows me her house to the top. So it's what a cautious provident person looks like. - I know! The glasses and hair and thin lipped - it's those Tennessee Farm women. There's more in that than I know. Maya Deren she said, meaning I know what, and was glad to know and wanted to put it at her service (within limits). Allotment! "I work an allotment on the banks of the Lea River." The way the thin strange type with fox-colored long hair became at other moment somebody much less strange. And then some break or pause and the voice answering me and the face moving would be the English remote-controlled signal. And a laugh oh if I'm not looking like a gush of grief. Your presence as you want, close and far. As with Annabel love coming back. Sometimes as if friendship is certain. And don't forget business transacted. The cards said: how will she be toward me (6c), I with her (6w). Going there. The bus map was not clear. Jumping off the 106 where it intersected with the 30, jumping off the 30 when we'd crossed the rail line, turning into a street that might be and was, and finding at #94 a car that said EPP on the plates. Getting there through a completely unfamiliar region, a convent garden and hospital with clean windows. Remembering, it seemed supernatural. 16 A baby daughter 6 months old scooting on the floor. Brown hair, blue eyes. This is the first I've seen of her. We haven't bonded I'm thinking, looking at her with a cold eye. Later there's a moment I catch her eye - hello. Later she's on my lap and we're having a lot to talk about, black hair, my black haired daughter. Stroking it. She's French kissing me in a determined way. The windy night. I woke and saw a tree convulsing, halfway over. A large thing crashed down the staircase. There were so many dreams. Hello Michael. [UK hurricane of October 1987] O windy bright. Last night smoked turkey at the Savoy, bread and butter pudding with cream. A silver fork so large who's it made for. £14. "If it looks like a Rolls but it doesn't have the hood ornament it's a Daimler." A thick red man and two fancy women climb out. Doormen in top hats close their doors one on each side. How often in a day do rich people have to see a smile as false as this. Today in a caff roast pork and peas £3. "Would you like a sweet? Jam tart, apple tart, aiz crream." "I think I'm full." "Okay Lovie." - unequal exchange, establishment of making a person strong enough genuine enough resolute enough to withstand liberation from foreign domination excision as metaphor the contradiction of desire and oppression the use of explanation She says sadistic is from being less than the image, and masochism from being more than. 17 Designs her father's rugs, leek soup, wine or beer on the landing, a house for ten years, music, a house where a man has been living that # of years without any sign of his presence. The blue blanket from my bed in Burghley Road, in fact the whole of her house like mine before I began to change it. White and green. Asparagus patch. A garden well. But the face on her skin, ashy and with moles in a way as if preparing a body elsewhere, is that what happens? A vehicle. Look how this handwriting took up speed on the other side of a line. Has no tradition of sociological literature, the family is still the limit It has even been suggested that in Somalia the Sodomitic milieu ... sexual aperture a form similar to the anal opening - rape of virgins impossible - husband may use a knife, razor, fingernail, piece of glass. It is not unusual to hear mothers asking many times rather quietly and invoking the name of Allah to be sewn up more tightly. Parachute houses where men and women can drop in. Money is exchanged but in an amateur way. If a man enters an uncircumcised woman he could be killed by poison from her clit. All European woman have been taught not to touch themselves. Red passion green fertility and black the evil eye Combined with spiced coffee, lovely pots, clothes that make beautiful forms in gesture, techniques for scenting silked skin, the pigeon dance, subtle drumming. - I opened the package and found 2 large bottles of ink, Mr Mann sent them to me in Vancouver and I've opened it tho I intended to throw his next letter in the garbage. It must have been a dream too, passing a synagogue door hearing just that second's existence of very beautiful harmonic chanting. Remembered in Andy's car last night. At gospel music Jake sits disappointed (I think), what I stay with is the young woman usher like a beautiful pigeon in a belted grey dress. It was her face and her shape and her sweetness in the music. Oh heavens I'm wanting to be married, it's innocent isn't it, what's it like, it's in the mouth, fat and hungry, and the image of the shape of the man in a corduroy jacket and that pale lonely look and even the voice from an unimagined world. Seeing him here today I was frightened and began giving off a frightened smell. Maybe there were other messages in it too. I can smell myself now very strong. The fear was because I imagined speaking to him. Go slowly and notice everything. There are many false starts. for instance take the Sierpinski carpet, the triadic Menger sponge and the triadic foam topological notion of order of ramification Reasons for discussing first a gasket, then a carpet, go beyond esthetics and the search for completeness. Monday 19th A sweet lover looking for someone who knows how A man's bright face bright black eye. I say something he says something, snap - I'm thinking in a flare, if I've got this one I don't need to look further - he's bold dark and warm. Yesterday Nicola Baldwin's dance video, Falling under. Choreog Suzanne Watson. Dancing of the eyes and the head on the neck, hands on the arms. Five young women hanging by their arms. Music John Suriman "Open Reflection" the edges of illusion but slowed and sax isolated. They were dancing in ways I've thought to dance. - Remembered what we were talking about - a painting of soldier with lances, walking, thru or beyond them fairy lances, what I could see was just lacy goldy towers. The inference was another troop present in the first. This isn't easy to get right. "A fairy troop" was a way of saying something else, (here I went into a discursion about Lis and her house, Daphne's house being so conventional, Lis's being so bare and her work so full, Sara and I in this house each with a journal in which we speak a dialect different than the one we speak to each other). What the man said was hallucination and what I took him to mean was what I imagine about the meaning of every event being different to the 'other side' - the right hem, dream life, etc. (Here I'm back in the thesis about polarity and spectrum.) - Jill of the empire liked Hume. Lis works for her honour. I'd have liked to be more in the center. "That's my kind of film but it's not the sort of film being made now." I know. Lis being there took my little thunder and was my support. There not being any people in it - Lis said I was in it so strongly she couldn't say there were no people in it. Telling about the 100's. The puzzle of why I'm not more impressive and whether it's a discount for lameness or some other thing about the way I present. I can tell I have gone further into what I do know. Is it an untrueness of trying to match down? I don't figure out how to know. Was watching Lis be ordinarily social, socially lying, oiling her way through and not losing by it. Well my wraith I love you anyway for excellent many reasons; want to put my forehead on your knee and swear allegiance. Yeah even if you are popular. - Grey-eyed Athena. The works of Aphrodite the golden bring no pleasure to her, but she finds joy in wars and she taught lustrous works to softskinned maidens in their houses, placing skill in each one's mind. Hollering Artemis whom smile-loving Aphrodite can never tame in love, for she delights in the bow and in slaying mountain beasts, in the lyre and the dance and in shrill cries and in shaded groves and in the city of just men. Hestia whom Kronos of crooked counsels begat first and youngest too. Instead of marriage she took the choicest boon and sat in the middle of the house. Like the moon's was the radiance round her soft breasts. Hollering Artemis of the golden shafts "And so I am before you because my need is compelling" But now my mouth will not bear to mention this among the immortals because, struck by great madness in a wretched and grave way and driven out of my mind, I mated with a mortal and put a child under my girdle. Aphrodite is called kypris, elsewhere kyprogenes. The wide sky above / and the whole earth and the briny swell of the sea. She was dazzled and reached out with both hands at once. Earth with it wide roads gaped Hekate of the shining headband heard from her cave Hekate carrying a light in her hands met her. I am quickly telling you the whole truth Cloud-gathering Zeus / who gave her to Hades, his own brother "not an unseemly bridegroom among immortals is Aidoneus lord of many" A pain more awful and savage reached Demeter's soul. Afterwards she withdrew from the assembly of gods and went thru the cities of men and the wealth of their labour. but Demeter, the bringer of seasons and splendid gifts At night she hid him like a firebrand in the blazing fire, secretly from his dear parents she said she would never allow the grain in the earth to sprout before seeing with her eyes her fairfaced daughter so then all day long, being one in spirit, they warmed each other's hearts and minds in many ways with loving embraces, and an end to sorrow came for their hearts as they took joys from each other and gave in return. Hekate of the shining headband came near them and many times lovingly touched the daughter of Demeter. Later the fields would be plumed with long ears of grain The Homeric hymns, Apostolos Athanassakis trans. - "etherealized representational artist," etherealize their sexuality "To provide images taken from natural phenomena, like the theory of radiation of probability, in which he likens an abstraction to energy - a strange and unexpected linkage and a starting point for great progress." Bachelier 1921 20th Whether the depth of - I said and had only begun to write, he passed putting on his coat - the core depth and truth of desire, which seems to have no answer - I feel sick in the shock of that contact - can be, can be, moved. "I know how to pine for a man but not how to love him." As if more than once in a day I feel the catch of it so strong an undertow so barely into consciousness that I realize it only by the way I've suddenly called for help - o universe quietly like someone going down a drain. - Increases her dreams. Then it decreases and finally the whole process turns into an experience of something like empty space. At that time it is possible for a bliss, clarity, nonconceptual mind to come from within. And then you know what people are thinking. Compassionate and knowing the essence of the meaning of emptiness. Came through my aisle when I was going to leave. We intersected at the end of the island. The face he meets me with, the way we meet, full on, wondering, younger than at first, who are you, I'm here, staggers me. I'm trying to leave it alone and not set my defense calculator onto it but what's also happening is I'm soaking into fantasy. I stopped and closed my eyes, the troubledness was pushing me sideways, what I found was - I'm excited - and came back to the light the big space the blurred charcoal colored sounds of people shutting their briefcases, pulling them across the desk, pushing in their chairs. He sees my crookedness and wildness and doesn't avoid my eyes. He's sitting all day scribbling in such a big looseleaf binder. Puts on his orange-brown jacket and his muffler, puts the binder into a grey sports bag and goes away home somewhere. What I imagine is he's calm and straight and I am too. It's pouring down rain. Today was very dark. Apart from him I'm not liking to be reading. Caroline tomorrow. 21st At the onset of the first small aeon of formation the winds of the 4 directions blow against their opposite winds, forming the shape of crossed vajaras which support everything that is to follow. Great rains fell and a circle of water forms on the vajras. Thru churning, a layer of gold forms on the water, with another of stone and earth on top of it. On the layer of earth grow the forests and fields we see. Formation of a world system with sentient beings takes twenty small aeons, nineteen for environment and then one for all sentient beings. Once it is formed it lasts for twenty then it is destroyed by fire and flood. First a sun appears that is brighter and hotter than our present one. After that a great rain falls, the earth finally dissolves. Then the crossed vajras rise up with the result that nothing can be supported any longer, and twenty aeons of voidness begin. Like clouds that melt away in the sky "The mind is both beyond death and blissful by nature and so are you if you realize its nature. You become like a great eagle, you swoop down and soar away. You fear nothing." He sought the primordial nature of his mind. You should keep the understanding of impermanence. The particular suffering of demigods is jealousy of the gods. But if you understand the suffering of gods you will not be attached to their apparent happiness. Meditate on his form. It is made of light. He is clear and diaphanous throughout. Reveal your past misdeeds and ask to have them cancelled. Commit yourself to live more cleanly. An image formed above the head. On a lotus that penetrates the top of your head 4 finger widths. Over the lotus a full moon disk. He has a complete enjoyment body and sits embracing his consort Great Dignity. Be ashamed and reveal, and commit yourself. On your heart's broad moon is the letter hum surrounded by the mantra. Through repeating this mantram your continuum is stirred, and from the place of the union of the father and mother's blissful sport comes the cloud of nectar of the mind of enlightenment. ... falling like drops of camphor. Through it may all polluted actions and afflictions which cause all suffering, sickness, spirits, sins, obstructions, faults, infractions and defilements of myself and all beings in the three realms be made completely clean. Between Vajrasattva and his consort at heart level is a flat moon disk with a white letter hm upright in its center. Standing on the center edge are the letters of the 100 syllable mantram. They are cold and your repetition causes them to melt like ice so that white nectar flows down between them through their place of union onto the lotus and into the stem and down the stem into your own head and body. Imagine all beings meditating with you. Recite the 100 syllables. As nectar enters you it washes through all the contaminated actions of the past, and all afflictions of desire, hatred and ignorance. All sicknesses are excreted through the lower part of the body, anus, genitals and soles of the feet. As they flow out earth opens deep and all the people whose karmic relation to you is such that they would wish your life shortened are there, with anyone to whom you are obligated. The ugly forms out of your body are converted to whatever they need. Satisfied and content they return, the earth closes over them. Your own body becomes clear and diaphanous, energy centers filled with brilliant white nectar. Then you confess, he smiles and laughs, and then they melt into light and dissolve into you. Then you become them, at your heart a tiny moon seed with letters blue white yellow red green that emanate each their own light. At the ends of the rays goddesses of the senses, their gifts, to all directions. Again, like light, into the hells, giving each being what they need. Imagine all heavens and gods melt into light and dissolve into you. Your own body, white, yellow, red, green, a line, a drop, and it vanishes into the space-like void where you remain as long as you can. Dedicate it to all sentient beings. 22 The BRAVA foundation advocates and facilitates. It would buy prints of Falling under and send them places, set them up. It advocates particular work rather than particular people. It can hire good workers to promote good work anywhere, everywhere. No one can apply. People can send suggestions. It can sponsor research, or journalism that can then be sent out in the usual way. BRAVA will be agent, all sorts of works, architecture, philosophy. Will find sponsors for particular projects, get the rich and smart women together. Computing. - "An embodied dream with wide, astonished eyes. The faces I saw have become as they were before they were transformed by that elated sureness. 23rd Polio: paralyzing jealousy, wanting to stop someone. Say "There is enough for everyone." Breasts: "I take in and give out nourishment in perfect balance." Cancer: deep hurt. "I lovingly forgive and release." Grey hair: stress, a belief in pressure and strain. "I am at peace and comfortable, strong and capable." Oxytocin, maternal bonding, also huge amounts in a man having an orgasm. The particular and the universal mind The particular/acquired is what you have learned to guard yourself and keep commanding self within social restriction Universal intellect or heart consciousness doesn't have profit or self protection in mind
They state a contradiction in an uncompromising form and then leave it at that - Going to bed last night in stress because it says he sees me as outcast. Tried not looking, filed in S13. Pain I think may be a door. But today was sunk in loneliness and cold. One more week. The lovelessness of theory is what makes me feel it useless. Philosophy seems useless. Not the larger sense but immediately, it doesn't give pleasure. It could. Pleasure or perception. The books full of quotations with life in them connected by a tissue without. I could do it allowed live presence. It is too separated in its own history, as if it - A practicing philosophy of imagining would be learning to do it, and commenting. Doing it and commenting. A distanced description. I think philosophy is the left hand and if it can't exist without something to work on that's only in analysis. The third term I'd guess would be always here. What I always say is documentary-dream, the synthesis is always a perception of the given. Space-time-knowledge. If I were really going to study philosophy it should start in Berkeley. Dissertation and thesis. Would be gather the instances and don't comment. Ignore the commentaries, set them so anyone can see what we know already about word not being the thing and being a family of. Narrow it down to experience of something not present as such. Wd it be difficult to stay out of the bitter minds. Prologue - dissertation - where 'we' come from, we being the philosophic community.
About film and imagining there's nothing to say except that they're incommensurate.
And then is there a film called A sweet lover looking for someone who knows how Who knows how: equations of motion And is it the grain film And I know what's made is consciousness, that's all. I know the antinomy but can it be made directly. 24 What I decided is the loving one is to be allowed to love, the knowing one is to be allowed to know, both as fully as possible and let's not have confusion. The numbers i, 2i, 3i are called imaginary numbers. This does not mean they do not exist, indeed they are as real as the so-called real numbers. The word imaginary should be understood to have a meaning image-inary, for the imaginary numbers are images of the real numbers. Conversely, the real numbers are images of the imaginary numbers. i=-1, multiply by i. i2=-1, i3=-i, i4=+1 A study of real and 'image' quantities is important for many reasons. 1. Each person sees the world partly with Cartesian and partly with Argand perceptions, some with more of one, some with more of another. They are equally valid but opposite to each other and cannot be reconciled. But relationships between them can be found. 2. Each persona has his or her 'image' person somewhere in the world, who thinks and acts in opposite ways. The world is a unity and all humankind is one. If one person thinks or acts in some way, thoughts and actions of all people in the world are affected. When obtaining relationships between complementary conics we are obtaining relationships between minds of different people. 1. There are mathematically exact relationships between the minds of any two people. 2. People do not and can not think and act independently of the way other people think and act. Time like everything else changes sign on passing through infinity. The only distance in nature is no distance, or an infinite distance. Similarly mass, time, speed. Time space and motion: 'continua' for sorting - With Jam in the upper floor sitting on a bed. Trudy comes up the stairs, I yell that I don't want her to. She looks a bit distorted as if it's her period. The ladder from below. Most of the rungs not there, small nails at the sides, not hard to climb either for her or for me. Two shoes stuck together with mud or mud and shit, I have under the pump on the churchyard. They're from different pairs. Whose - if I keep one will the girl it belongs to be looking for it? High on a roof walking the edge (not sure of this one). - That people's images are powers (as if gods) and if I keep Trudy out, feeling and creation are kept out, if I keep my father out, what? I keep phallic sex out. (Seeing the carved mutilated men and horses - a horse in profile.) And all the time I am in dilemmas of not keeping the person out sufficiently because I don't want to exclude the value. She calls that identification. So what value is JM Fletcher [actually John Harris]? It's the value of the back of your head and your straight back sitting working at a desk, it's your steady and felt meetings, that you're faithfully searching in the intuitive studies, that you're manly straight and tall and have a sweet head real among the scholars. That you'd be satisfying to have in my arms, the right shape of shoulder and neck and arm, and an unknown smell (sperm it said) and a capacity for vision - myself a man, and his possibilities (and not myself my father, that door to stay closed). What does she want - HIM - wd anything be able to satisfy her - oh yes - the smell of his shirt. Alright enough of that. The way he looks familiar, I very easily see him with my eyes closed, who does he look like, but then some of his looks, the boy one, smaller than I thought (with his bag strap across his chest like a satchel), new; quite different from some other person he resembles. I could've known him when he was a child. Who? Windrim. A sweet lover looking for someone who knows how voice, a tantric text, voice from U Le G, the psychoscope own feet and mirror random dot stereograms "It is as though everything were soluble in the aether of the world; there are not hard surfaces." Witt The grape vines meeting in the middle, but a space left on the left - symmetry. Wittgenstein Culture and value Many of these explanations are adopted because they have a peculiar charm, the picture of people having subconscious thoughts. The idea of an underworld, a cellar. But when he imagines publishing them the whole business loses its charm and value and becomes impossible. But only an artist can so represent an individual thing as to make it appear to us like a work of art. In the absence of art the object is just a fragment of nature like any other. But it seems to me there is a way of grasping the world sub specie aeterni other than by the artist's labour. Thought - as though it flies above the world and leaves it as it is. He says what it is about Jews is they're unpoetic. In times like these, genuinely strong characters leave the arts aside. I saw that setting up a stone is like moon worship but isn't moon worship, and never was; it is appreciation which is simply perception. - That was as I was falling asleep, what does it mean? I saw the stone with light on its face, the moon a stone with light on its face. Setting the stone in front of the moon is saying, It is like this. Building a fire at noon, the same. There is an offering - I offer my perception. I should like to start with the original data of philosophy, written and spoken sentences, with books as it were. "seized on it with enthusiasm for my work of clarification" "What I do think is essential is carrying out the work of clarification with COURAGE." Language sets everyone the same traps; it is an immense network of easily accessible wrong turnings. And so we watch one person after another walking down the same paths and we know in advance where they will branch off, where walk straight on without noticing the turning. What I have to do is erect signposts. "I had some thought of my own ... at times I brought to life new movements in thinking." What I do or make is a form of perception, it is perception. I could say it's unconscious perception because it implies a grasp but I haven't grasped it yet. It is a token of perception. Something has to be like something before I feel it. The way the slides are of that. Then the slides are tokens of - no, the likeness says, this of this, the smokeness of foxtail (an equation), something to notice, and then the rest to notice too. In a garden the 2's vine to grasp each other in the center though they've come loose; put up again, they'll knot. They don't cover the whole length of the wire, maybe more on the left have died, I'll have to plant something else there. Give me a signifier for vocation in the next time. Magician. Means what, somebody who knows how it works. In what sense is it meant? World, universe, the whole, eagle overview, lion perception, bull chthonic connection, child clean feeling, R and L in a circuit, each hand with its power. Magician is pentacle well being, skill and perception, cup feeling contained and enjoyed, sword social defense and mental acuity, wand, rod must be mastery of energy.
25th The cup of tea. We were walking in the old streets beyond Westminster, narrow and dark, brick Council flats rising straight and plain, a Victorian pocket hidden by the Gothic Parliament. River nearby. The rich borough rising just the other side of a bulk of blank office buildings. Not that we knew exactly where we were. We had come into it through the misty colors of the Embankment gardens, standing perennials in rusted shades very soft and glowing. Dabbled our fingers at fat goldfish and then saw the black fry aimed in lines like iron filings. We doubled back alongside the river and it was full up, full, river and banks all covered over with a grey-blue dusting of mist. He says he wants Cleopatra's needle and a couple of sphinxes, a very big space. He wanted the National Gallery too. We had to climb past the Houses of Parliament and saw an MP in a chauffeur-driven Jag shooting out of one of the drives. Then - it was getting dark, the change to winter time - we got into the strange place by walking along watching the wine color of Virginia creeper on a wall, a dim gold bush, and a thick rubbery blue on a door. All along, all day, I have beside, behind, ahead of me the floating very tall narrow black coat with Luke's close-trimmed head, pinned-back ears. This imposing spirit treads on long flat shoes, hands in pockets, or sitting across from me in the caff was spidering with his long finger on the toast plate or picking intently at his little spots. A big soft transitional mouth and small eyes not brown but army green. Face not yet in its man's shape but showing a jut in the bone that can turn into my sort of handsomeness when his nose and mouth fine down at twenty-one. There was a very small worker's caff on the corner, yellow light, a fry bar and hot water urn. I stopped on the pavement. I'd like a cup of tea. Do you want one? We go in through the door at the end of the wedge. An old man with straight fine hair in a sheet above his face. Two teas to take out please. He's crossing over behind the chip bin. A young man comes through from that side into the counter side where we are. He's a big crude face and rough long curls, in some way a type, arresting like a type. Two teas? To take out. He crosses over again to the back. The lean old man has returned. Two teas? To take out or to have here? To take out. Do you want sugar? One? Do you want sugar? Luke says no. One for me. He's reaching for the styrofoam, hesitating. To take out? Yes, to take out. He takes up his beautiful big kettle, hinges up the lid. I think he's going to add water to old leaves but he shakes in a spoon of loose fresh ones, turns the boiling jet on them, clicks down the lid and pours. Is that all right for you? Not too strong? It looks alright. He gets near the top of the styrofoam and then he's pouring in jerks of his arm, alternating cups, to shake the leaves back from the spout. We don't need lids. We don't need lids, thank you. Thanks. Cheers. Good night. We stand on the corner and take a sip. It's good tea. I think this is the way English tea is supposed to taste, when I have tea at Jack's it tastes like this, Luke says. We go on. I have to stop to drink, he can drink while he's gliding. We're in a sort of charity area, Salvation Army hostel for men, Great Peter Street. And then the baloney sandwich pile of the Bishop's Erection. Shall we go see what it is? A marvel, the ceiling almost invisible in darkness, smell of beeswax candles, many beautiful little pyres at the various side stations. It's a pantheon, though Artemis is nowhere here. Flowers for the Virgin. Extraordinary junky splendor, a fat pillar carved from one piece of green marble. Mosaics. A man swimming with his elbow raised over a little boat. A confessional with a red light on, the priest in the center slot is showing his dissipated face through shutters turned back. A woman whose body shows her lack of sin steps behind the curtain. He leans out of sight. And Hyde Park. By then we've been worn out by traffic and crowds, thoroughfare, and what is wonderful is the long paths like airstrips, soft orange, the misty commons' wide distance, a group carrying a large sheet of plywood on a path crossing ours obliquely, and then the deck chairs at Marble Arch standing dewy like penguins in family groupings. (That night dreams. A kind of writing shown me in pictures, the quality of the pictures' colors. It was as if saying this is the quality worth perpetuating. I was thinking it was like the PRC [Peace River Country] slides but there was another quality too. It was a man's writing and something slightly comic and distorted like country humour, visually lovely but slightly grotesque in form, like coming into the Northern School rooms at the Nat Gall after being with Dutch, Flemish, English - dark and contorted nature.) Room after room of painting and thick with devout visitors. I was showing Luke how they paint horses like erections, had my hands up blocking off the golden horse's legs when the guard was suddenly saying Your hands are much much too close, so I jumped and actually touched the sacred surface. Sorry! Sorry! And Luke I think disgusted until in some further room full of dark masters we sat a while and got to a right ground of laughing that was the pivot from which we went on to Thames Park, river, Millbank and Bishop's Baloney. - Reading about imagining I check the accuracy of a statement by calling up an image (you just checked what I stated by calling up an image of checking a statement). What I do, what I've learned to do is hold onto the metaphors - "the linking of imagination and memory as sister faculties" - and look at the picture and from it infer the unarticulated feeling of the writer, ie that the image is female, young, barefoot and wearing pink and blue Greek clothes. Desoille. Imagining with a vase. A cave for 'suppressed feeling'. Witch and wizard for parents. Axis of vertical-horizontal. "If movement is ascensional, images increasingly ethereal and luminous" euphoria and joy. Bachelard ascensional psychology. Ahsen 1972 Eidetics parents test and analysis. "Experience of a parent in imagery can differ from conscious opinion of parent." "An important and specific meaning to the function of the father in the development of both male and female." 28th "It's rotten." "It's dead, it's old, it's uninteresting." The wave of hatred and contempt that I expect. "You had things to do." 29 Crying in bed so it felt in weariness of the misery of so-long female second classness. Struggling through the congestion of Cambridge battling with this tall male who thinks he would manage it all without an 'attitude'. Balance, balance, it says. Take refuge, take refuge in the universe. There is no life among people. A courtesan, silk robe, designed chaise, heat lamp, foot massage and other, maybe dinner first, supporting talk, touch under the spot lamps, and when the moment's well-prepared, carrying into bed, short and thick, and more in the morning after real orange juice. He wears an open shirt and a sarong and is barefoot. That was last night's comforter. Climb a mountain problems in relation to ambition, power. Stream to source, mother attachment. Imagine there are two of you - kissing holding - looking through keyhole - in dialogue - needing help. Ego ideal a person of opposite hair color, significant competence. Imagine giving the hated feared one lots of good things. Robert Desoille 1973 Entretiens sur le rêve éveillé dirigé en psychothérapie Payot
|