Tuesday, February 26, 2013

It's mah birthday!

Turning 23 today, actually you have to turn the 2 and the 3 around but I just like sticking to 23! Yay!

Monday, February 25, 2013

R. Buckminster Fuller - We must do away with the absolutely specious notion that everybody has to earn a living

Tool - Ultimate Review

Not gonna lie, this was pretty boring. People you don't know talking about Tool and only a little bit of interview footage. The title sorta gave that away, but it does have a really cool piece about Bill Hicks and Alex Grey.

Charlie Brooker's How to Report the News - Newswipe - BBC Four


ANTIBOTHIS is a collection of book anthologies featuring texts and interviews showcasing a variety of ideas that  are a genuine alternative to the dogma of conformity, the commitment to disconnect the cables of corporhate  coolonization, disinverting cultural reality through the dissemination and dispersion of alternatives vortices of  information and infinite chaotic propaganda, speculation, simulation, stimulation, to revolutionize the dynamics of life in a total process of cultural transformation, reclaiming our guts and revolt in the name of imagination in  opposition to a toxic life of low awareness, herd mentality and programmed though, infecting human minds and alter their behaviour featuring written texts from John Zerzan, Erik Davies, Joe Ambrose, Chad Hensley, Carl Abrahamsson, Vadge Moore, Nigel Ayers, Pentti Linkola, Adi Newton, Ewen Chardronnet, Critical art Ensemble, Antero Alli, Earth First, Boyd Rice, Robin Rimbaud, V. Vale among many others. Each publication features a cd compilation with artist such as The Master Musicians of Joujouka, Controlled Bleeding, Jarboe, O Yuki Conjugate, Cotton Ferox, Andrey Kiritchenko, Scanner, Rapoon, Anla Courtis, Lydia Lunch, Phillipe Petit, Adi Newton, Zeitkratzer, Pietro Riparbelli, Kal Cahoone, Checkpoint 303 among many others.

David Lynch Is Back … as a Guru of Transcendental Meditation

David Lynch Is Back … as a Guru of Transcendental Meditation

Not a fan of either... "oh you want a mantra? ok 1000$ please"... It's a mantra for crying out loud! Why is the price to learn or do anything "spiritual" always over 1000$??? I only spend money on books on my "path" and anyone who charges a shitload of money for something very simple is someone I don't trust to learn anything useful from. Conscience > Greed.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

The Science Delusion: Rupert Sheldrake at TEDxWhitechapel

Barefoot, like a boss.
The science delusion is the belief that science already understands the nature of reality, in principle. The fundamental questions are answered, leaving only the details to be filled in. The impressive achievements of science seemed to support this confident attitude. But recent research has revealed unexpected problems at the heart of physics, cosmology, biology, medicine and psychology. Dr Rupert Sheldrake shows how the sciences are being constricted by assumptions that have hardened into dogmas. Should science be a belief-system, or a realm of enquiry? Sheldrake argues that science would be better off without its dogmas: freer, more interesting and more fun. 

Rupert Sheldrake, Ph.D. is a biologist and author of more than 80 scientific papers and 10 books, including The Science Delusion. He was a Fellow of Clare College, Cambridge University, a Research Fellow of the Royal Society, Principal Plant Physiologist at ICRISAT (the International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics) in Hyderabad, India, and from 2005-2010 the Director of the Perrott-Warrick Project, funded from Trinity College, Cambridge. He is a Fellow of the Institute of Noetic Sciences, Petaluma, California, and a visiting professor at the Graduate Institute in Connecticut. His website is www.sheldrake.org.

The Doors (of Perception)

I saw the When You're Strange documentary a few days before leaving for Thailand and thus spent most of my holiday listening to the Doors. When I came back I watched the movie which handled most of the events discussed in the documentary. Really interesting the words and life of Jim Morrison, a shame how it all went downward spiral and how it ended.

Philip K. Dick's The Divine Invasion ~ Sacred Writings disguised as Science Fiction #2: Of the Mother and the Child

The three of them sat together drinking tea. Rybys's face had an embittered, stark expression on it, a look of fury; she said almost nothing.
"What bothers you the most?" Elias Tate said. "The fact that Yah was driven off Earth, that he was defeated by the Adversary, or that you have to go back to Earth carrying him inside you?"
She laughed. "Leaving my station."
"You have been honored," Elias said.
"Honored with illness," Rybys said; her hand shook as she lifted her cup to her lips.
"Do you realize who it is that you carry in your womb?" Elias said.
"Sure," Rybys said.
"You are not impressed," Elias said.
"I had my life all planned out," Rybys said.
"I think you're taking a small view of this," Herb Asher said. Both Elias and Rybys glanced at him with distaste, as if he had intruded. "Maybe I don't understand," he said, weakly.
Reaching out her hand, Rybys patted him. "It's OK. I don't understand either. Why me? I asked that when I came down with the M.S. Why the hell me? Why the hell you? You have to leave your station, too; and your Fox tapes. And lying all day and night in your bunk doing nothing, with your gear on auto. Christ. Well, I guess Job had it right. God afflicts those he loves."
"The three of us will travel to Earth," Elias said, "and there you will give birth to your son, Emmanuel. Yah planned this at the beginning of the age, before the defeat at Masada, before the fall of the Temple. He foresaw his defeat and moved to rectify the situation. God can be defeated but only temporarily. With God the remedy is greater than the malady."
"'Felix culpa,' "Rybys said.
"Yes," Elias agreed. To Herb Asher he explained, "It means 'happy fault,' referring to the fall, the original fall. Had there been no fall perhaps there would have been no Incarnation. No birth of Christ."
"Catholic doctrine," Rybys said remotely. "I never thought it would apply to me personally."
Herb Asher said, "But didn't Christ conquer the forces of evil? He said, 'I have overcome the world.'"
"Well," Rybys said, "apparently he was wrong."
"When Masada fell," Elias said, "all was lost. God did not enter history in the first century C.E.; he left history. Christ's mission was a failure."
"You are very old," Rybys said. "How old are you, Elias?
Almost four thousand years, I guess. You can take a long-term view but I can't. You've known this about the First Advent al this time? For two thousand years?"
"As God foresaw the original fall," Elias said, "he also foresaw that Jesus would not be acceptable. It was known to God before it happened."
 "What does he know about this now?" Rybys said. "What we are going to do?"
Elias was silent.
"He doesn't know," Rybys said.
"This-" Elias hesitated.
"The final battle," Rybys said. "It could go either way. Couldn't it?"
"In the end," Elias said, "God wins. He has absolute foresight."
"He can know," Rybys said, "but does that mean he can- Look, I really don't feel well. It's late and I'm sick and I'm worn out and I feel as if. . ." She gestured. "I'm a virgin and I'm pregnant. The Immigration doctors will never believe it."
Herb Asher said, "I think that's the point. That's why I'm supposed to marry you and come along."
"I'm not going to marry you; I don't even know you." She stared at him. "Are you kidding? Marry you? I've got M.S. and I'm pregnant- Damn it, both of you; go away and leave me alone. I mean it. Why didn't I take that bottle of Seconax when I had the chance? I never had the chance; Yah was watching. He sees even the fallen sparrow. I forgot."
"Do you have any whiskey?" Herb Asher said.
"Oh fine," Rybys said bitterly. "You can get drunk but can I? With M.S. and some kind of baby inside me? There I was"- she glared hatefully at Elias Tate-' 'picking up your thoughts visually on my TV set, and I imagined in my deluded folly that it was a corny soap opera dreamed up by writers at Fomalhaut -pure fiction. Arachnids were going to decapitate you? Is that what your unconscious fantasies consist of? And you're Yahweh's spokesperson?" She blanched. "I spoke the Sacred Name. Sorry."
"Christians speak it all the time," Elias said.
Rybys said, "But I'm a Jew. I could be a Jew; that's what got me into this. If I was a Gentile Yah wouldn't have picked me. If I'd ever been laid I'd-" She broke off. "The Divine Machinery has a peculiar brutality to it," she finished. "It isn't romantic. It's cruel; it really is."
 "Because there is so much at stake," Elias said.
"What is at stake?" Rybys said.
"The universe exists because Yah remembers it," Elias said.
Both Herb Asher and Rybys stared at him.
"If Yah forgets, the universe ceases," Elias said.
"Can he forget?" Rybys said.
"He has yet to forget," Elias said elliptically.
"Meaning he could forget," Rybys said. "Then that's what this is about. You just spelled it out. I see. Well-" She shrugged and then reflexively sipped at her cup of tea. "Then I wouldn't exist in the first place except for Yah. Nothing would exist."
Elias said, "His name means 'He Brings into Existence Whatever Exists.' "
"Including evil?" Herb Asher asked.
"It says in Scripture," Elias said, "thus:

So that men from the rising and the setting sun
May know that there is none but I:
I am the LORD, there is no other;
I make the light, I create darkness,
author alike of prosperity and trouble.
I, the LORD, do all these things."

 "Where does it say that?" Rybys said.
"Isaiah forty-five," Elias said.
'Prosperity and trouble,' " Rybys echoed. " 'Weal and woe.'
"Then you know the passage." Elias regarded her.
"It's hard to believe," she said.
"It is monotheism," Elias said harshly.
"Yes," she said, "I guess it is. But it's brutal. What's happening to me is brutal. And there's more ahead. I want out and I can't get out. Nobody asked me originally. Nobody is asking me now. Yah foresees what lies ahead but I don't, except that there's more cruelty and pain and throwing up. Serving God seems to mean throwing up and shooting yourself with a needle every day. I am a diseased rat in a kind of cage. That's what he's made me into. I have no faith and no hope and he has no love, only power. God is a symptom of power, nothing else. The hell with it. I give up. I don't care. I'll do what I have to but it will kill me and I know it. OK?"
The two men were silent. They did not look at her or at each other.
Herb Asher said finally, "He saved your life tonight. He sent me over here."
"That and five credpops will get you a cupee of Kaff," Rybys said. "He gave me the illness in the first place!"
"And he's guiding you through," Herb said.
"To what end?" she said.
"To emancipate an infinitude of lives," Elias said.
"Egypt," she said. "And the brick makers. Over and over again. Why doesn't the emancipation last? Why does it fade out? Isn't there any final resolution?"
"This," Elias said, "is that final resolution."
"I am not one of the emancipated," Rybys said. "I fell along the way."
"Not yet," Elias said.
"But it's coming."
"Perhaps." The expression on Elias Tate's face could not be read.
As the three of them sat, there came a low, murmuring voice which said, "Rybys,
Rybys gave a muffled cry and looked around her.
"Fear not," the voice said. "You will live on in your son. You cannot now die, nor even
unto the end of the age."
Silently, her face buried in her hands, Rybys began to cry.

Late in the day, when school had ended, Emmanuel decided to try the Hermetic transform once again, so that he would know the world around him.
First he speeded up his internal biological clock so that his thoughts raced faster and faster; he felt himself rushing down the tunnel of linear time until his rate of movement along that axis was enormous. First, therefore, he saw vague floating colors and then he suddenly encountered the Watcher, which is to say the Grigon, who barred the way between the Lower and Upper Realms. The Grigon presented itself to him as a nude female torso that he could reach out and touch, so close was it. Beyond this point he began to travel at the rate of the Upper Realm, so that the Lower Realm ceased to be something but became, instead, a process; it evolved in accretional layers at a rate of 31.5 million to one in terms of the Upper Realm's time scale.
Thereupon he saw the Lower Realm-not as a place-but as transparent pictures permutating at immense velocity. These pictures were the Forms outside of space being fed into the Lower Realm to become reality. He was one step away, now, from the Hermetic transform.
The final picture froze and time ceased for him. With his eyes shut he could still see the room around him; the flight had ended; he had eluded that which pursued him. That meant that his neural firing was perfect, and his pineal body registered the presence of light carried up its branch of the optic conduit.
He sat for a little while, although "little while" no longer signified anything. Then, by degrees, the transform took place. He saw outside him the pattern, the print, of his own brain; he was within a world made up of his brain, with living information carried here and there like little rivers of shining red that were alive. He could reach out, therefore, and touch his own thoughts in their original nature, before they became thoughts. The room was filled with their fire, and immense spaces stretched out, the volume of his own brain external to him.
Meanwhile he introjected the outer world so that he contained it within him. He now had the universe inside him and his own brain outside everywhere. His brain extended into the vast spaces. far larger than the universe had been. Therefore he knew the extent of all things that were himself, and, because he had incorporated the world, he knew it and controlled it.
He soothed himself and relaxed, and then could see the outlines of the room, the coffee table, a chair, walls, pictures on the walls: the ghost of the external universe lingering outside him. Presently he picked up a book from the table and opened it. Inside the book he found, written there, his own thoughts, now in a printed form. The printed thoughts lay arranged along the time axis which had become spacial and the only axis along which motion was possible. He could see, as in a hologram, the different ages of his thoughts, the most recent ones being closest to the surface, the older ones lower and deeper in many successive layers.
He regarded the world outside him which now had become reduced to spare geometric shapes, squares mostly, and the Golden Rectangle as a doorway. Nothing moved except the scene beyond the doorway, where his mother rushed happily among tangled old rosebushes and a farmland she had known as a child; she was smiling and her eyes were bright with joy.
Now, Emmanuel thought, I will change the universe that I have taken inside me. He regarded the geometric shapes and allowed them to fill up a little with matter. Across from him the ratty blue couch that' Elias prized began to warp away from plumb; its lines changed. He had taken away the causality that guided it and it stopped being a ratty blue couch with Kaff stains on it and became instead a Hepplewhite cabinet, with fine bone china plates and cups and saucers behind its doors.
He restored a certain measure of time-and saw Elias Tate come and go about the room, enter and leave; he saw accretional layers laminated together in sequence along the linear time axis. The Hepplewhite cupboard remained for a short series of layers; it held its passive or off or rest mode, and then it was whisked over into its active or on or motion, mode and joined the permanent world of the phylogons, participating now in all those of its class that had come before. In his projected world brain the Hepplewhite cabinet, and its bone china pieces, became incorporated into true reality forever. It would now undergo no more changes, and no one would see it but he. It was, to everyone else, in the past.
He completed the transformm with the formulary of Hermes Trismegistus: Verum est . . . quad superius est sicut quod inferius et quad inferius est sicut quad superius, ad perpetrando miracula rei unus.
That is: The truth is that what is above is like what is below and what is below is like what is above, to accomplish the miracles of the one thing.

This was the Emerald Tablet, presented to Maria Prophetissa, the sister of Moses, by Tehuti himself, who gave names to all created things in the beginning, before he was expelled from the Palm Tree Garden.
That which was below, his own brain, the microcosm, had become the macrocosm, and, inside him as microcosm now, he contained the macrocosm, which is to say, what is above.
I now occupy the entire universe, Emmanuel realized; I am now everywhere equally.
Therefore I have become Adam Kadmon, the First Man. Motion along the three spacial axes was impossible for him because he was already wherever he wished to go. The only motion possible for him or for changing reality lay along the temporal axis; he sat contemplating the world of the phylogons, billions of them in process, continually growing and completing themselves, driven by the dialectic that underlay all transformation. It pleased him; the sight of the interconnected network of phylogons was beautiful to behold. This was the kosmos of Pythagorias, the harmonious fitting-together of all things, each in its right way and each imperishable.
I see now what Plotinus saw, he realized. But, more than that, I have rejoined the sundered realms within me; I have restored the Shekhina to En Soi. But only for a little while and only locally. Only in microform. It would return to what it had been as soon as he released it.
"Just thinking," he said aloud.
Elias came into the room, saying as he came, "What are you doing, Manny?"
Causality had been reversed; he had done what Zina could do: make time run backward.
He laughed in delight. And heard the sound of bells.
"I saw Chinvat," Emmanuel said. "The narrow bridge. I could have crossed it."
"You must not do that," Elias said.
Emmanuel said, "What do the bells mean? Bells ringing far off."
"When you hear the distant bells it means that the Saoshyant is present."
"The Saviour," Emmanuel said. "Who is the Saviour, Elias?"
"It must be yourself," Elias said.
"Sometimes I despair of remembering."
He could still hear the bells, very far off, ringing slowly, blown, he knew, by the desert wind. It was the desert itself speaking to him. The desert, by means of the bells, was trying to remind him. To Elias he said, "Who am I?"
''I can't say," Elias said.
'But you know."
Elias nodded.
"You could make everything very simple," Emmanuel said, "by saying."
"You must say it yourself," Elias said. "When the time comes you will know and you will say it."
"I am-" the boy said hesitantly.
Elias smiled.

Curb Your Enthusiasm - Occupy This

Holy shit @ Larry David's reality tunnel! LOL

311 Soundsystem 13 livin' & rockin'

Fire is my method for destruction
leaving charred wreckage from my latest eruption
unpredictable, my erratic demeanor
bobbing and weaving as my mind gets leaner
though i'm trippin' on legs that stumble but I don't fall down
you know I'm singing out things you mumble from a lack of resound
pissed off mist lifts to honesty
now come down motherfucker with your philosophy

I'm at ease when I feel there's a breeze
give me a little please
Aristotle I'm not but think of Socrates
so are you ready for your lesson blood?
democratic non erratic Socratic method
we'll take away the pain
we'll pacify the bullshit up in your brain
in times of change or the same old thangs
as you maintain or rearrange

Can't nobody do it like 311
fuckin' up competition cause there really is none
steppin' on your game from the first floor up tore up
electricity we store it up

Can't nobody do it like 311
break it down, what it is, dedication
sending out gratitude like we laid it out on Down
throw down fuck the bullshit we're still the sound

Wild and lost speed mad
a long way from sad
lookin' good like you should you're bad
an itinerant dimension mystic is your spirit see
like color absolute bodiless indeed
casual kindred spirit past
all the obstacles you're dealin' with at last
the nasdaq, two puppies, baby needs new shoes
car alarms, your rent, wedding bells, the blues

The tragic fucking comedy that was last night
unfolds to my inner devils sheer delight
a pointless fucking banter in an endless bout
with whiskey soaked frolic room tobacco mouth
then a sickening trip to what I call the elitist cesspool
beckoning all the sycophants and defeated yes-fools
hung over, broke, and a round of apologies
now come down Martinez with the modern mythology

Friday, February 22, 2013

The Definition of Hell

Someone told me once the definition of Hell: 
The last day you have on earth, the person you became 
will meet the person you could have become.

Aaaand I'm motivated, hedonist-me versus *-me, FIGHT!
...or maybe just dance in balance.

Philip K. Dick's The Divine Invasion ~ Sacred Writings disguised as Science Fiction

Through the port of his dome he made out a bent figure shuffling across the frozen wasteland. An autochthone gripping a meager bundle; it was on some errand.
Pressing the switch of the external bullhorn, Herb Asher said, "Step in here a minute, Clem." This was the name the human settlers had given to the autochthons, to all of them, since they all looked alike. "I need a second opinion."
The autochthone, scowling, shuffled to the hatch of the dome and signaled for entry. Herb Asher activated the hatch mechanism and the intermediate membrane dropped into place. The autochthon disappeared inside. A moment later the displeased autochthon stood within the dome, shaking off methane crystals and glowering at Herb Asher.
Getting out his translating computer, Asher spoke to the autochthon. "This will take just a moment." His analog voice issued from the instrument in a series of clicks and clacks. "I'm getting audio interference that I can't shut off. Is it something your people are doing? Listen."
The autochthon listened, his root-like face twisted and dark. Finally he spoke, and his voice, in English, assumed an unusual harshness. "I hear nothing."
"You're lying," Herb Asher said.
The autochthon said, "I am not lying. Perhaps your mind has gone, due to isolation."
"I thrive on isolation. Anyhow I'm not isolated." He had, after all, the Fox to keep him company.
"I've seen it happen," the autochthon said. "Domers like you suddenly imagine voices and shapes."
Herb Asher got out his stereo microphones, turned on his tape recorder and watched the VU meters. They showed nothing. He turned the gain up to full. Still the VU meters remained idle; their needles did not move. Asher coughed and at once both needles swung wildly and the overload diodes flashed red. Well, the tape recorder simply was not picking up the soupy string music, for some reason. He was more perplexed than ever. The autochthon, seeing all this, smiled.
Into the stereo microphones Asher said distinctly, " '0 tell me all about Anna Livia! I want to hear all about Anna Livia. Well, you know Anna Livia? Yes, of course, we all know Anna Livia. Tell me all. Tell me now. You'll die when you hear. Well, you know, when the old cheb went futt and did what you know. Yes, I know, go on. Wash quit and don't be dabbling. Tuck up your sleeves and loosen your talktapes. And don't butt me- hike !-when you bend. Or whatever-'"
"What is this?" the autochthon said, listening to the translation into his own tongue. Grinning, Herb Asher said, "A famous Terran book. 'Look, look, the dusk is growing. My branches lofty are taking root. And my cold cher's gone ashley. Fieluhr? Filou! What age is at? It saon is late. 'Tis endless now senne- "The man is mad," the autochthon said, and turned toward the hatch, to leave.
"It's Finnegans Wake," Herb Asher said. "I hope the translating computer got it for you. 'Can't hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone ahome? What Thom Malone? Can't hear-'The autochthon had left, convinced of Herb Asher's insanity. Asher watched him through the port; the autochthon strode away from the dome in indignation.
Again pressing the switch of the external bullhorn, Herb Asher yelled after the retreating figure, "You think James Joyce was crazy, is that what you think? Okay; then explain to me how come he mentions 'talktapes' which means audio tapes in a book he wrote starting in 1922 and which he completed in 1939. Before there were tape recorders! You call that crazy? He also has them sitting around a TV set-in a book started four years after World War I. I think Joyce was a- The autochthon had disappeared over a ridge. Asher released the switch on the external bullhorn.
It's impossible that James Joyce could have mentioned 'talk- tapes" in his writing, Asher thought. Someday I'm going to get my article published; I'm going to prove that Finnegans Wake is an information pool based on computer memory systems that didn't exist until a century after James Joyce's era; that Joyce was plugged into a cosmic consciousness from which he derived the inspiration for his entire corpus of work. I'll be famous forever. [He's not just talking about Joyce, but himself as well.] What must it have been like, he wondered, to actually hear Cathy Berberian read from Ulysses? If only she had recorded the whole book. But, he realized, we have Linda Fox.
His tape recorder was still on, still recording. Aloud, Herb Asher said, "I shall say the hundred-letter thunder word." The needles of the VU meters swung obediently. "Here I go," Asher said, and took a deep breath. 'This is the hundred-letter thunder word from Finnegans Wake. I forget how it goes." He went to the bookshelf and got down the cassette of Finnegans Wake. "I shall not recite it from memory," he said, inserting the cassette and rolling it to the first page of the text. "It is the longest word in the English language," he said. "It is the sound made when the primordial schism occurred in the cosmos, when part of the damaged cosmos fell into darkness and evil. Originally we had the Garden of Eden, as Joyce points out. Joyce-"
His radio sputtered on. The foodman was contacting him, telling him to prepare to receive a shipment. "...awake?" the radio said. Hopefully.
Contact with another human. Herb Asher shrank involuntarily. Oh Christ, he thought. He trembled. No, he thought. Please no.

"Oh, then that soap opera isn't a soap opera." She turned to the screen of the TV. "I've been intercepting a psychotronic information-transfer. I must have plugged in the wrong cable. Damn. Well, what the hell. I thought it was on the air an awful lot of the time."

"I do remember some things, then," Emmanuel said.
"You'll remember more. You see, you set up a disinhibiting stimulus that would remind you before-well, when the right time came. You're the only one who knows what the stimulus is. Even Elias doesn't know it. I don't know it; you hid it from me, back when you were what you were."
"I am what I am now," Emmanuel said.
"Yes, except that you have an impaired memory," Zina said, pragmatically. "So it isn't the same.
"I guess not," the boy said. "I thought you said you could make me remember."
"There are different kinds of remembering. Elias can make you remember a little, and I can make you remember more; but only your own disinhibiting stimulus can make you be. The word is .. . you have to bend close to me to listen; only you should hear this word. No, I'll write it." Zina took a piece of paper from a nearby desk, and a length of chalk, and wrote one word.
Gazing down at the word, Emmanuel felt memory come to him, but only for a nanosecond; at once-almost at once-it departed. "Hayah," he said, aloud.
"That is the Divine Tongue," Zina said.
"Yes," he said. "I know." The word was Hebrew, a Hebrew root word. And the Divine Name itself came from that word. He felt a vast and terrible awe; he felt afraid.
"Fear not," Zina said quietly.
"I am afraid," Emmanuel said, "because for a moment I remembered." Knew, he thought, who I am.

But he forgot again. By the time he and the girl had gone outside into the yard he no longer knew. And yet-strange!-he knew that he had known, known and forgotten again almost at once. As if, he thought, I have two minds inside me, one on the surface and the other in the depths. The surface one has been injured but the deep one has not. And yet the deep one can't speak; it is closed up. Forever? No; there would be the stimulus, one day. 
His own device.
Probably it was necessary that he not remember. Had he been able to recall into consciousness everything, the basis of it all, then the government would have killed him. 
There existed two heads of the beast, the religious one, a Cardinal Fulton Statler Harms, and then a scientific one named N. Bulkowsky. But these were phantoms. To Emmanuel the Christian-Islamic Church and the Scientific Legate did not constitute reality. He knew what lay behind them. Elias had told him. But even had Elias not told him he would have known anyhow; he would everywhere and at every time be able to identify the Adversary. What did puzzle him was the girl Zina. Something in the situation did not ring right. Yet she had not lied; she could not lie. He had not made it possible for her to deceive; that constituted her fundamental nature: her veracity. All he had to do was ask her.

"Yah made me sick?" Rybys said. After a pause Elias nodded.
"What is this?" Rybys said furiously. "A coup of some kind? You're going to smuggle-"
Interrupting her, Elias said in a low, harsh voice, "The Roman X Fretensis."
"Masada," Rybys said. "Seventy-three C.E. Right? I thought so. I started thinking so when a Clem told me about the mountain deity at our Station Five."
"He lost," Elias said. "The Tenth Legion was made up of fifteen thousand experienced soldiers. But Masada held out for almost two years. And there were less than a thousand Jews at Masada, including women and children."
To Herb Asher, Rybys said. "Only seven women and children survived the fall of Masada. It was a Jewish fortress. They had hidden in a water conduit." To Elias Tate she said, "And Yahweh was driven from the Earth."
"And the hopes of man," Elias said, "faded away."
Herb Asher said, "What are you two talking about?"
"A fiasco," Elias Tate said briefly.
"So he-Yah-first makes me sick, and then he-" She broke off. "Did he start out from this star system originally? Or was he driven here?"
"He was driven here," Elias said. "There is a zone around Earth now. A zone of evil. It keeps him out."
"The Lord?" Rybys said. "The Lord is kept out? Away from Earth?" She stared at Elias Tate.
"The people of Earth do not know," Elias Tate said.
"But you know," Herb Asher said. "Right? How do you know all these things? How do you know so much? Who are you?"
Elias Tate said, "My name is Elijah."

More excerpts on the way... In other news, PKD's Man in the High Castle will be adapted to TV, there are some good people working on it though it's for SyFy so it might go either way.
Also check out 42 Minutes fascinating interview with Anthony Peake on "VALIS as Daemon? PKD and the VALIS-Loop." 01.29.13 Episode 69: Anthony Peake. Chapter 25 of The Sync Book Vol. 2. Visit: AnthonyPeake.com. Listen to Anthony's own podcast, The Peake Experience: The Anthony Peake Consciousness Hour.

Maynard in Music

Clip from Blood into Wine, documentary about Tool/A Perfect Circle/Puscifer's Maynard James Keenan.

Keep it real Jimmy Kimmel...

"Come on man, talk like a real person." Mike Tyson

311 Soundsystem 12 Mindspin

Are we immersed in a sea of replicants
hard exteriors and fake gold fronts
loosing yourself in the flavor of the month
gotta be a better reason to colonize a star
gotta be a better reason man's come so far

Is that you in the mama-ocean-people-sea
is that you in this dream I see waving at me
closer with one hand, while the other shields your eyes
as if surprised to see the universe begin

Being up on the mindspin
are you still glad that it has been
six years and seven months
this is want you want, don't front
I'm feelin' it right now
in this, the gold hour
part clock and part man
reconciling my life span

Keeps things whole
we move out of the space where air flows
when all of a sudden
here we are, and here we go

The evolutionary mind
turns twist backflips
in space-time the continuum
real-life planetarium

It's a natural fact
time is speeding up there isn't much left
heart rate increasing
bustin' through your chest, compressed

Is your life in the physical
but out of memory
comes a vision which is a miracle
yeah, that

Normally we just can't see
it's not natural or typical
of our same old thing
livin' too fast, unable to grasp the past
or the future when at last we ripple
after our big splash

You remain
and refrain
from the pain
of wasted time
last thing on my mind is
running high
fuel supply
reason why
we just don't quit
can you get with
a melding of two minds
what's the worst thing you could find
a paper trail
that prevails
in demystification
want to believe
in mysteries
want to believe
in mysteries
is the truth so bad?

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Magic Sky Fairy - Pshh nice beliefs dude

All hail the universe! I finally found out how to make reddit not suck. Well it's not that I had been looking before, it's just that those big blue links and tiny thumbnails scared me away so fast everytime. I finally made an effort and found out about Reddit Enhancement Suite and Stylish. Yay, there goes all my free time, no worries I got a lot of that. It still boggles my mind how the default view of Reddit can be so unbelievably ugly but hey! At least we can improve it. And... I found a subreddit perfect for the blog:

Whatever the Thinker thinks, the Prover will prove. - Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising

William James, the ‘father’ of American psychology, tells of meeting an old lady who told him the Earth rested on the back of a huge turtle.
“But, my dear lady,” Professor James asked, as politely as possible, “what holds up the turtle?”
“Ah,” she said, “that’s easy. He is standing on the back of another turtle.”
“Oh, I see,” said Professor James, still being polite. “But would you be so good as to tell me what holds up the second turtle?”
“It’s no use, Professor,” said the old lady, realizing he was trying to lead her into a logical trap. “It’s turtles-turtles-turtles, all the way!”
Don’t be too quick to laugh at this little old lady. All human minds work on fundamentally similar principles. Her universe was a little bit weirder than most but it was built up on the same mental principles as every other universe people have believed in. As Dr. Leonard Orr has noted, the human mind behaves as if it were divided into two parts, the Thinker and the Prover. The Thinker can think about virtually anything. History shows that it can think the earth is suspended on the backs of infinite turtles or that the Earth is hollow, or that the Earth is floating in space comparative religion and philosophy show that the Thinker can regard itself as mortal, as immortal, as both mortal and immortal (the reincarnation model) or even as nonexistent (Buddhism). It can think itself into living in a Christian universe, a Marxist universe, a scientific-relativistic universe, or a Nazi universe—among many possibilities.
As psychiatrists and psychologists have often observed (much to the chagrin of their medical colleagues), the Thinker can think itself sick, and can even think itself well again. The Prover is a much simpler mechanism. It operates on one law only: Whatever the Thinker thinks, the Prover proves. To cite a notorious example which unleashed incredible horrors earlier in this century, if the Thinker thinks that all Jews are rich, the Prover will prove it. It will find evidence that the poorest Jew in the most run-down ghetto has hidden money somewhere. Similarly, Feminists are able to believe that all men, including the starving wretches who live and sleep on the streets, are exploiting all women, including the Queen of England.
If the Thinker thinks that the sun moves around the earth, the Prover will obligingly organize all perceptions to fit that thought; if the Thinker changes its mind and decides the earth moves around the sun, the Prover will reorganize the evidence. If the Thinker thinks “holy water” from Lourdes will cure its lumbago, the Prover will skillfully orchestrate all signals from the glands, muscles, organs etc. until they have organized themselves into good health again
Of course, it is fairly easy to see that other people’s minds operate this way; it is comparatively much harder to become aware that one’s own mind is working that way also.
It is believed, for instance, that some men are more ”objective” than others. (One seldom hears this about women…)
Businessmen are allegedly hard-nosed, pragmatic and “objective” in this sense. A brief examination of the dingbat politics most businessmen endorse will quickly correct that impression.
Scientists, however, are still believed to be objective. No study of the lives of the great scientists will confirm this. They were as passionate, and hence as prejudiced, as any assembly of great painters or great musicians. It was not just the Church but also the established astronomers of the time who condemned Galileo. The majority of physicists rejected Einstein’s Special Relativity Theory in 1905. Einstein himself would not accept anything in quantum theory after 1920 no matter how many experiments supported it. Edison’s commitment to direct current (DC) electrical generators led him to insist alternating current (AC) generators were unsafe for years after their safety had been proven to everyone else.
Science achieves, or approximates, objectivity not because the individual scientist is immune from the psychological laws that govern the rest of us, but because scientific method—a group creation—eventually overrides individual prejudices, in the long run.
To take a notorious example from the 1960s, there was a point when three research groups had “proven” that LSD causes chromosome damage, while three other groups had “proven” that LSD has no effect on the chromosomes. In each case, the Prover had proved what the Thinker thought. Right now, there are, in physics, 7 experiments that confirm a very controversial concept known as Bell’s Theorem, and two experiments that refute Bell’s Theorem. In the area of extra-sensory perception, the results are uniform after more than a century: everybody who sets out to prove that ESP exists succeeds, and everybody who sets out to prove that ESP does not exist also succeeds.
“Truth” or relative truth emerges only after decades of experiments by thousands of groups all over the world.
Think you have a higher “objectivity quotient” than either of them, why haven’t you been nominated for a Nobel prize?
In the long run, we are hopefully approximating closer and closer to “objective Truth” over the centuries.
In the short run, Orr’s law always holds: Whatever the Thinker thinks, the Prover will prove.’
And if the Thinker thinks passionately enough, the Prover will prove the thought so conclusively that you will never talk a person out of such a belief, even if it is something as remarkable as the notion that there is a gaseous vertebrate of astronomical heft (“GOD”) who will spend all eternity torturing people who do not believe in his religion.

Sad as it is to say, you never understand anything by merely reading a book about it. That’s why every science course includes laboratory experiments, and why every consciousness liberation movement demands practice of yoga, meditations, confrontation techniques, etc. in which the ideas are tested in the laboratory of your own nervous system.
To explore the Thinker and the Prover, try the following:
  1. Visualize a quarter vividly, and imagine vividly that you are going to find the quarter on the street. Then, look for the quarter every time you take a walk, meanwhile continuing to visualize it.See how long it takes you to find the quarter.
  2. Explain the above experiment by the hypothesis of “selective attention”—that is, believe there are lots of lost quarters everywhere and you were bound to find one by continually looking. Go looking for a second quarter.
  3. Explain the experiment by the alternative “mystical” hypothesis that “mind controls everything.” Believe that you made the quarter manifest in this universe. Go looking for a second quarter.
  4. Compare the time it takes to find the second quarter using the first hypothesis (attention) with the time it takes using the second hypothesis (mind-over-matter).
  5. With your own ingenuity, invent similar experiments and each time compare the two theories—”selective attention” (coincidence) vs. “mind controls everything” (psychokinesis).
  6. Avoid coming to any strong conclusions prematurely. At the end of a month, re-read this, think it over again, and still postpone coming to any dogmatic conclusion. Believe it possible that you do not know everything yet, and that you might have something still to learn.
  7. Convince yourself  (if you are not already convinced) that you are ugly, unattractive and dull. Go to a party in that frame of mind. Observe how people treat you.
  8. Convince yourself (if you are not already convinced) that you are handsome, irresistible and witty. Go to a party in that frame of mind. Observe how people treat you.
  9. This is the hardest of all exercizes and comes in two parts. First, observe closely and dispassionately two dear friends and two relative strangers. Try to figure out what their Thinkers think, and how their Provers methodically set about proving it. Second, apply the same exercize to yourself.  If you think you have learned the lessons of these exercizes in less than six months, you haven’t really been working at them. With real work, in six months you should be just beginning to realize how little you know about everything.
  10. Believe it possible that you can float off the ground and fly by merely willing it. See what happens.  If this exercize proves as disappointing to you as it has to me, try number 11 below, which is never disappointing.
  11. Believe that you can exceed all your previous ambitions and hopes in all areas of your life.
‘Believe’ or ‘convince yourself’ mean to do what an actor does: pretend until the pretense begins to feel real. Or, as jazz musicians say: fake it until you make it.

Rich & Smart

311 Soundsystem 11 Leaving Babylon

I say now leavin this Babylon  
Leavin this Babylon  
Will not be too long no  
Will not be too long
I say my people are starvin'
But your money's runnin'

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Dedroididfy.com minor update

Some minor updates were done on dedroidify.com, some series rearranging, broken link fixing, deleting of obsolete pages.

Thanks to Keith for his donation! And thanks to everyone who's ever e-mailed to send thanks for helping them awaken. That's the entire purpose of all of this, being a catalyst!

In the Neurosoup: A Talk with Krystle Cole

Interview with Krystle Cole from Neurosoup.com at Reality Sandwich.


"Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering its a feather bed." — Terence McKenna
Awesome RAW Painting, source: http://disorderedmatter.tumblr.com/

Terence McKenna - Evolving Times 1995

What's fascinating and disturbing is that McKenna's thoughts are still a great indication of how we probably should evolve as a society.

NOTE: The ending is cut a couple minutes short because the camera ran out of film.

311 Soundsystem 10 Evolution

It's so huge, like a spiritual
Rippling out to every individual
This is life, it is a miracle

Evolution has exponential timing
It'll be half as long 'til
The next breakthrough that blows our mind
It's up to the people to brave on with
Move forth the species by using our imagination
But can we handle it?
Could we dismantle it?
Or should we fear the void and just be
If it's understood, it could be used for good
And would
If you will believe in all we can conceive

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

A glimpse into Burning Man

One thing 'bout music when it hit you feel no pain...


 Bruce Lee

When there's money to be made, expect no justice


311 Soundsystem 09 Eons

You got a wishing well within
that's ready to begin
see how we roll
see how we roll
i'm tryin' to compromise
because with me there are no lies
see how we run
it's already begun
now that i'm back to a pushing pen
that weighs two hundred tons
i'd like to drop it on you
and watch it all fall through

Nobody knows just what
you're battling inside
you can hide
nobody knows just why
most everyone will lie
if they need to

The ones who aggravate you most
and happen to be ever close
seem to be the ones lurching
for the same things that you are searching
the ones who make you feel ill
and you think that nature should have killed
those you curse when you're alone
seem to be so close to home

Not an even field
to be on
feels like standing still
for eons and eons
stare it dead in the eye
what now?
all we can do is try
to shut it down
shut it down

Monday, February 18, 2013

The War on Consciousness - Graham Hancock

Via Reality Sandwich which has the title as Giving up the Green Bitch, though the video doesn't talk about weed all that much. I heard about his breaking up with Mary Jane in this interview podcast at Psychedelic Salon. What Graham doesn't say in the video but did in the interview, is that the spirit of Ayahuasca reacted not so friendly to the question if she could be jealous of the spirit of Mary Jane, haha, for that bit alone the interview podcast is certainly worth a listen.

I've only smoked marijuana once in the last 3 months-ish I think it is now, and I didn't really enjoy it last time. Among the reasons I quit are, and even among my friends most of these reasons are unique to me so I'm in no way generalizing this. Quite the opposite, just sharing my experience: we always roll our joints with tobacco here, and that tobacco isn't good for the body. Time seems to fly and I seem to do nothing but play video games and watch downloaded tv shows and movies, pure hedonism, no self-cultivation. I don't meditate much or at all when I'm smoking weed. I can't/don't read when high. I spend a lot more money on rolling supplies, drinks for the throat, snacks for the munchies. I take in crazy amounts of sugar and gain weight. When smoking it a lot, I often wake up cranky until I've had some food after which I'm able to smoke (I can't smoke it on an empty stomach). When not having anymore, I go to two to three days of pissed off withdrawel and often revert to smoking tobacco. It becomes more expensive every year here. Dutch Coffee shops near the border require a weedpass that requires dutch nationality to buy it. Belgian dealers are unreliable to say the least and usually takes 3-5 days more than the first said day of availability, and the quality is highly variable and not always in proper relation to the price. When high and going out into society, I really don't like being judged everywhere I go for being high (my eyes ;p), even if it's only with glances. And most importantly I prefer the natural high of meditation, tai chi, yoga etc over the high of marijuana. All that being said, I could really use a toke right about now! Just kidding (maybe!), at this point I can't say I wouldn't have a toke if offered, though I doubt I would buy a supply for myself anymore. All in all, it was great for opening the fifth circuit, but I save a lot more money and am a lot more healthy and happier without it.

Burning Man dutch documentary

Just saw this awesome Burning Man documentary from Dutch Television BNN, no english subs unfortunately. Man, I thought it was cool before from what I'd seen but now I'm just so in love with this event. I need to find out how to get there in two years asap. Tips appreciated lol.

311 Soundsystem 08 Sever

We're wakin' it up face up, and shakin' it up
we know of an extended field
this is the deal
for letting and getting the vibes that we want
open up your heart
and proceed to feel
now you're inchin' up
to the summit never plummet
boot your system up
and then bail with the middle finger up
why are you so abrupt, baby don't be corrupt

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Whoa... cool!

As a sci-fi buff I can't help but find it very cool. The injuries and damage are not cool of course.

Tunisia will never become another Aghanistan

311 Soundsystem 06 Life's not a Race

A day like today is for you
to let your mind unwind, like you ought to
feel the earth turn round when your heart rate slows
contemplating the thing only your heart knows
that life's not a race

So hard to believe part of me will fade
in a mystery, in a future world
long ago, parts feel for your love
and lives to tell you so

The world revolves around your mind in a golden spiral
the natural way that things organize
you can't stop entropy so why even try
observe the conscious flow and don't mystify
life's not a race

slippin' into a trance
a chance encounter in the autumn
what do I see an opportunity
and then, I got' em
saw the chill-out mix
carve some space
to make you want to listen
it's a bubbling spring
and double in kings
of this soundsystem

Do you see world without end
the rising my friend
imagine cloud like
you will form again
through spacey boredom
in the autumn of late afternoon
you are calm, just like a sleepy room

Cloud Atlas: The True-true I know I know

Archivist: On behalf of my Ministry and the future of Unanimity, I want to thank you for the final interview. Remember, this isn't an interrogation or trial. Your version of the truth is all that matters.
Sonmi-451: Truth is singular. Its "versions" are mistruths. 

I know, I know!

Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.

I will not be subjected to criminal abuse.

We cross and re-cross our old paths like figure-skaters.

Haskell Moore: There is a natural order to this world, and those who try to upend it do not fare well. This movement will never survive, if you join them you and your entire family will be shunned. At best you will exist at pariah to be spat at and beaten, at worse to be lynched or crucified. And for what, for what, no matter what you do it will never amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean.
Adam Ewing:What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?

Fear, belief, love phenomena that determined the course of our lives. These forces begin long before we are born and continue after we perish. 

Archivist: [about Yoona taking Somni to the lost-and-found room] Why didn't you report Yoona-939 to Seer Rhee the next day?
Sonmi-451: I couldn't.
Archivist: Why?
Sonmi-451: Because she trusted me.
Archivist: But your actions violated the Fifth Catechism.
Sonmi-451: That's true.
Archivist: How did you justify this transgression?
Sonmi-451: She was my friend.

Soylent Green are people!

And all becomes clear. Wish I could make you see this brightness. Don't worry, all is well. All is so perfectly, damnably well. I understand now, that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention, if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I feel my own, and I know that separation is an illusion. My life extends far beyond the limitations of me.

Timothy Cavendish: Never forget Herman Melville, writes a ripping yarn about a big white whale which is summarily dismissed, and yet today it is lugged around in the backpacks of every serious student of literature in the world.
Dermot Hoggins: I don't give a fuck what happens when I'm dead, I want people to buy me book now!

Zachry: Who tripped the Fall, if not Old Georgie?
Meronym: True-true? The Old Uns.
Zachry: That's just a rope o'smoke. Old Uns got the Smart. They mastered sick and seeds, they make miracles and fly across the sky.
Meronym: True. All true. But they got somethin' else. A hunger in their hearts, a hunger that's stronger than all their Smart.
Zachry: Hunger? For what?
Meronym: A hunger for more.

This world spins from the same unseen forces that twist our hearts.