A Human Movement
Life in the library
Blogging from the 34rth and 5th. It's so exciting to be back in a library, I missed the stacks very much to put it succinctly. And just now, I got a bar code put on the back of my ID, it is 7:15PM - approximately 1 hour since I left work - and I am almost ready to sit down and read a section from Joseph Ben-David's The Scientist's Role in Society.
It is also a small revelation to be able to use the library from the perspective of a student. I can claim stupidity and ask the people behind the desk questions. The Graduate Center's library has the most beautiful elevator. I think that 'A Human Movement' and 'blog.tlib.org' will be changing in the coming months as I will probably use them in much different ways then the past. Psychedelic gazes will now be filtered through the fact that I have assigned readings, so my gas will be filled the asterisks of reading lists. I think blog.tlib.org will be turning into something of an online notebook/calendar/personal management system. While 'A Human Movmement' might be filled with wisps, guesses and apologies which no one has come to know so well.
I have a big reading list for my 'Social History of Science' class, and sadly - none of it is electronic which means that I have 3 choices:
1) Buy it
2) Photocopy it from the library
3) Read it in the library
I will probably be seeing a mix of these in the coming weeks... I wish the readings were online. Imagine how much smoother a class could go if the majority of the readings were scanned in and ready to be read from any location? Print, presto, PDF. I can't believe here it is 2005, and I am still thinking about this. It seems like a decade ago that I was sitting behind a reserve desk myself thinking about a future of scanned texts and remote reading for all in the name of education. The tasks of coming to the library, getting settled, finding the books, making photocopies, reading the 100 pages, taking notes, etc. etc. is probably going to take a good 9 hours a week, more when writing assignments are in order. I wish 2 of those hours did not consist of checking out books and photocopying them. I wonder how many floors this library has? I am on the second floor with the PR 500's, 'POETRY,' at my back. Oh those PR's!!
Anyway, I think I am about settled and ready to get quiet - I only have my reserve reading until 9:11PM, after that I start getting fined. On the bright side, I found one of the books for the class in the stacks which means I can take it out and photocopy necessary parts at work tomorrow. So much wasted paper! It's a tragedy, a true tragedy the wasted paper.
I think I might start thinking in terms of tragedies as a result of the tsunami in Louisiana. When is the next tragedy? What can be done to circumvent it? I think taking away all profits from insurance companies and big box stores and using it to invest in education, health insurance and larger salaries for American workers is the place to start -- should any future tragedy wished to be quelled prematurely those are steps to stopping it. And no extra funds for the cops, they are useless. There's the wisp...
What's a dick for?
I'm glad I wasn't the only one
who saw the phallic-ness in the symbolic repetition of the Washington Monument, as the two characters from the Wedding Crashers movie routinely crashed-landed with the giant dick symbol between their legs after a season of humping girls.
I'm going to pretend that this is a audio-blog for a second, and while the going is hot, all y'all should go ahead and download Prick of the World
a rare magazine track by the Sun City Girls... because you fuckers need it like I do, as much as anyone does who goes on hiding the fact that all y'all enjoy being raped but won't fess up to it,
cuz you been brainwashed by the collective imagination purported to be love that cares, and not love that wares away at your very right to be safe in your own genital make-up fake response, which you'd crush in an instant had there ever been a time when rubbing them on strangers wasn't exactly the point when you finally came into your own. Childbirth.
On the passing of Bob Moog
Artist, scientist, synthesist, prophet Bob Moog passed away and the small obituary posted on the moogmusic website includes a fascinating little quote:Bob was warm and outgoing. He enjoyed meeting people from all over the world. He especially appreciated what Ileana referred to as "the magical connection" between music-makers and their instruments.
What is Ileana Moog refering to? What magical connection exists between music-makers and their instruments? This is very interesting, and worthy of further explanation, interpretation, understanding.
What is the connection between say: Roy Buchanan and his telecaster? Sun Ra and his MiniMoog? Is it the same as Van Gogh and his brush or palette? A biologist and his microscope? What bonds men (and women) to their tools? I am sure many people have attempted to posit some kind of 'eros' in between the hand and the drill, need and cause, but really how can we attempt to identify the beauty of the instruments people use to some kind of previously built-up logic?
I wouldn't be averse to an interpretation that some kind of supra-cellular propelsion in the form of magnetic ray spectra is what binds man the artist to the tools of his craft, leaving those available to wider band of spectra with a greater need, or the ability to connect with higher resonating tools. Such as a Bruce Springsteen with his telecaster or a Buddy Holly with his stratocaster or a programmer with his operating system. Magnetic pulsar rays of unknown attraction bonding us to our lust, and the outcome beauty.
(I would also admit that destruction is highly a part of this magnetic lust, and that pollution and carcinogens are an acceptable part of the tool attraction hypothesis.)
Oh reaching out... for connection.
I got a frequency changer the other day, and it allowed me to group associable recollection next to other similar possibilities.
It uses foot power, and it is the easy way out for right now -if I want to go into the mudanity of the beauty of what can be, and foot power is only slightly representing what it means to blur to associable recollections.
Oh lust, you perfect inferior, I am a person and I can only witness the true stretch of the imagination needed to consider understaning a possible goal. But still a new goal is thrown at me for each moment I progress. The quietness of an icicle will always prevail over a car alarm...Or would it? What is the sound that is heard when sound is only one way to hear.
The ANSWER: It sounds like easiness and control, and also therefor desire and percussion --- because the answer always implies the already known connection of one to another ---
Lines can blur, no man has the ability to discern lines when they approach.
Stand back, watching the interconnection, let pause occur and reach out to the gaps involved, what is known must has the ability to be not known.
The sun is the closest star to the planet earth.
New Track projected Rays at www.tlib.org/ww
from The SummerTapes 2005: (Demos for Democracy, Demos for Demonology Sessions)
On Deception (demo) | Extra non-affair (resident alien demo) | Tropical Harmonies ('Sheer Rose' demo)
Short story: Everyone should make content, content creation and sharing is the key to saving the world!
Just talking to people at work regarding personality and its effect on internet usage.
It seems that moments of high optimisim, hope, confidence are more easily filled with internet sharing, linking, connection-finding while pessimism leads to closedness, and a inability or lack of want to share, or seek or connect.
I'm finding it all odd, the more it goes: Getting closer to what it is that is happening as I write this. I am also coming to grips with my lack of ability to explain it... or understand what it means to share one's personality in an electronic way.
So, I'll just sit back and maintain it.