Maggot Liberation Army

Writer's Block: Starting from Scratch

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 22:37:28 GMT

What would it take to get you to start a new life on a new world?

Sponsored by AVATAR. In theaters December 18. Buy tickets now.

Pie!

Camus, of course

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 09:22:41 GMT

Which philosopher are you? Your Result: Sartre/Camus (late existentialists) The world is absurd. No facts govern it. We live well once we truly accept the world's absurdity. YOU give our life's meaning, and YOU control your world. (see Nietzsche for very closely tied beliefs) --This quiz was made by S. A-Lerer.
Nietzsche
Early Wittgenstein / Positivists
Plato (strict rationalists)
Immanuel Kant
W.v.O. Quine / Late Wittgenstein
Aristotle
Which philosopher are you? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

This Is Where It's At Kids

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 05:18:14 GMT

It still lives!

Thu, 06 Nov 2008 12:35:59 GMT

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Would the lovely Lady Rhoda please give me a phone call? A power outage caused all of my data to disappear, so I have lost your numbers. I am doing well, and I apologize for not updating. I will try to do better. Honest.
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FCGST (sensory mode naked and unabashed)
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Drained, But Stabile

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 18:23:16 GMT

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After a minor breakdown, I have returned to The Manor.
Sorry for not posting anything in forever, but there is only so much one can put into words, you know.
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Oddly, my brother (eight years my senior) was just diagnosed with the same arthritic condition I was diagnosed with over a decade ago. It's hereditary, of course. (For those of you keeping score, this is my good brother Dave and not that evil troll-like thing.)
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It has been much too long since DD has come to visit. We stay in touch regularly, but the price of gasoline has made her visiting nearly impossible.
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I am really getting sick of Top Ramen.
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The Manor continues to stand, and within it's walls I continue to lurk. I hear thunder. The sky is darkening. Soon, rain.
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FCGST (sensory mode still, before the storm)
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"The hidden anti-evil shroud of Duncan" is way cooler than you think!

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 19:53:26 GMT

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An old friend (N.B.S. era/pre-Toastyfried) has been in contact with me and things are in stasis. Well, moving somewhere, but practically stationary. But, this is exciting and strangely motivating for me. I have always felt most motivated by treading a thin line between stability and chaos. Emotionally, I am doing better than I have in a long while. The re-emergence of a friend from the "art-magic" days has transformed nostalgia into actual moments of time-travel, shifting backwards into that decadance of our past that I had become so detached from. This is a good thing. Don't scoff, but I feel like Henry Miller embarking on a voyage of reckless discovery with Anais Nin. It's like building bridges between the romantic and the pornographic, or the sacred and profane, or something. We've been watching films and quoting texts and really recreating the very essence of what we believed in before we'd gotten so old, and that has been quite rejuvenating! To get old and break down together, only to spark some mad alchemy that takes you back thirty years... well, it is an amazing process. I am so aware of what Baudelaire meant when he said whether with wine or song or poetry or sex one must always be drunk. Drunk on poetry. Drunk on sex. Intoxicated by the very process. And so, for now, it seems stationary, but it is a good place to be still... just inches before the coming tempest.
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FCGST (sensory mode plexus)
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Whooshed from ambersky

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 08:25:03 GMT

Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
Thou art not so unkind
As man's Maggot Liberation Army.

Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?

Suicide Warnings

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 10:50:35 GMT

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The following are common warning signs of suicide.
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Being preoccupied with death and dying.
Withdrawing from friends and/or social activities.
Having a recent, severe loss (especially a relationship), or threat of a significant loss.
Experiencing drastic changes in behavior.
Losing interest in hobbies, work, school, etc.
Preparing for death by making out a will (unexpectedly) and final arrangements.
Giving away prized possessions.
Having attempted suicide before.
Taking unnecessary risks; be reckless and/or impulsive.
Losing interest in their personal appearance.
Increasing their use of alcohol or drugs.
Expressing a sense of hopelessness.
Being faced with a situation of humiliation or failure.
Having a history of violence or hostility.
Having been unwilling to "connect" with potential helpers.
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Remember: it is always okay to intervene if you suspect someone is at risk. Currently, approximately 85 people per day commit suicide. While most suicides can not be anticipated or prevented, some can be. Simply offering aid, kindness, or encouragement to a fellow in crisis might mean the difference between life and death.
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FCGST
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Merry Christmas

Sun, 23 Dec 2007 17:25:13 GMT

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23rd of December, 1941.
Bob Hope leads an all-star ensemble performing for approximately two-thousand Navy men. It is a Christmas special being broadcast by NBC. Bob Hope says, "Tomorrow morning most of these boys will be headed to the South Pacific. Think of the perks, boys! C-rations can't be worse than the food here at base." (laughter) "When I arrived today I went to the Mess Hall and asked for a fillet. They said, Shetland or Palomino?" (more laughter)
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I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday. I know that many of you have had a lot of sorrow and difficulty this year. I certainly have. My holiday wish is that we all be reminded of the good things in our lives. Let's hope 2008 is a good year. Best wishes, and merry Christmas!
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FCGST
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Methods (non-linear)

Sun, 25 Nov 2007 08:16:36 GMT

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DD is coming by this week, and I am going to try to get KCF to come at the same time (so maybe we can go over some of the details of what really happened during our respective lives together). She is so much more organized than I am, and she has a neatly filed history through objects, images, and artifacts, which combined with my recall (and that of KCF) has helped us in piecing together what I hope will eventually become something of a biograph thing. Another project on the works. My last entry was a fragment born from said project.
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"Art" seems to have become a dirty word around a lot of people these days. And when you select from coincidence the things that seem like displacements of reason, you begin to imagine some kind of cosmic synchronicity exists between us. So, we keep records, journals, files, albums, and so forth, and we try to cull a history from the wreckage, hoping that it bears a kind of accuracy. If you could fold human beings into one another, the flesh being like paper and the nerve endings being like words, you would have an idea of what it feels like to pursue this work with DD.
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Sometimes one or the other of us will recall an event or occurrence and it will trigger amazing sensual impulses, pulling us back quite vividly to a point in time which is relived with crystal clarity. Just today, on the telephone, DD found a clipping regarding a boy that we were in 8th grade with, and it manifested in the actual smells of boys locker room and baking bread from the cafeteria just beyond that. Then a cool breeze, and I was actually walking in my body at age 14 to the edge of Bramen Avenue. I am not at all sure of how this works, but it is no mere hallucination. Unlike psychedelic experiences where the present stimulus is merely amplified, what DD and I seem to have tapped into is something like playing a cassette that plays flesh and nerves and all senses instead of just words and images. She seems to be able to manifest in me a kind of biosensurround, if there can even be such a thing.
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Have I told you lately that I love you? We are connected.
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Yes, I am pondering the beyond and the meanings of why and how and all of that. What the skeptic would surely dismiss as mere coincidence seems too severe to ignore. That DD and I and KCF and Dave (my bro) were positioned together, and even when thrust apart became remerged, is too much for me to believe "coincidence". I am reminded of how only a small zoning error kept Rhoda from our circle for a few years, but that even then, she and I were brought together via KCF on "the night of the weird couplings". And if you don't know already the strange story of how we came to know Peter and Randy, which lead to the meeting of most of the rest of you, well... again, it was all so much more than what I could ever dismiss as coincidence. And now DD has tapped into this brain cassette phenomena. Weird stuff.
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Just as cut-ups merged past and future for Burroughs and Gysin, so now does our very existence act as a medium for a kind of time travel. And if that can happen for a couple of kids who never learned how to grow up, then what might be possible for the rest of the world if they tried?
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Could this phenomena be at all related to remote viewing? What are the pathways taken during a remote viewing experience? Are they the same as the sensory manifestation of memory? And how do we formulate something we can not fully comprehend?
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Read any good books lately?
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FCGST (sensory mode experimental)
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Cold Stone Arena

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 10:42:55 GMT

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Some things happened exactly as we remember them.
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In 1975 everything shifted for a moment and I beheld sparks in the air filtered through a legion of stars. Hyperprism acrylic casting yellow-orange shadows on the grey-green tiles as I lay in the cold stone arena watching the images flash across my eyes. Waft of mildew mingled with gardenia and cool breeze gave way to the ripples on the surface of the special pool (which, although obscured by a plethora of other boys, was a knowing witness to these proceedings, as noted in an earlier report). I could feel the quickening pulse of my flesh synchronizing with the flashing lights that permeated the scene as sweat beaded and dripped like the dew that formed on gardenia blossoms in the dawnlight. A dozen or so boys gathered to watch, to behold the spectacle, to record the moment like frames from a silent picture cast from the eyes of vaudevillian monarchs spreading more of their scent through the air with each flutter of their magnificent wings. (As an aside, let me note here that I willingly participated in this experiment, casting off any suspicions that there may have been even the slightest bit of coercion on the part of my involved fellows.) It was a moment of such clarity, of such indefinable beauty, so as to dispel even the boldest of mockers from speaking ill against me for recalling it. Here we were one, and still totally isolate, giving birth to that truest of mysteries: "we are connected". Lust patterned after light. Transference of liquid. Rippling pool then dawn's dew. Energy encapsulated then dispersed. And we are infinite, so that we can eternally choose our position in time and in space. Eternal. Infinite. Cold stone arena, 1975, and liquid.
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FCGST (sensory mode drifting in shadows)
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book meme from ghormenghast

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 05:48:45 GMT

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1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 4 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that 'cool' or 'intellectual' book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
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"You might as well object to a lexicon or a treatise on compararive religion. A system of which enables thinkers to formulate their ideas, or to find simple expression for complex thoughts, should include preciously disconnected orders of conception. You might as well object to algebraic symbols. On the above grounds modern thinkers have endeavored to create a distinction."
(from "Notes On Gematria" compiled from writings of Aliester Crowley)
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FCGST (sensory mode yes that was the nearest book to me at this time)
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Many Changes, Many Dreams

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 15:17:12 GMT

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Krzysztof Penderecki's "Polymorphia" is singularly the most evocative music I have ever heard. Upon first hearing this piece (at the age of 13) I was forever altered. Truthfully, nothing ever shook me so far from the prison of mediocrity as this beautiful and dark fantasy for strings. Is there any wonder that Krzysztof Penderecki is hailed as one of the greatest composers of our time, or that he has been selected to write the official thematic music for the 2008 Beijing Olympics?
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FCGST
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What's next???

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 10:47:38 GMT

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As most of you know, I have had my share of plumbing problems. Just last month I had a plumber guy shut off the last of the leaks in the house and check the meter to make sure there were no undetected leaks.
All was well with Griffin Manor.
Then, last night, a notice was posted on my door telling me that a severe leak had been detected by the city, and it is my responsibility to fix it. I have no indication of where this leak could possibly be.
So here I am, the month before the taxes are due on the property, and they are telling me that I have to hire another plumber. What will be next? I shudder to imagine.
So, a plumber found no leaks. KCF checked for leaks as well, and he could find none. I can't detect any. Still, the city says there is a leak, and a severe one at that.
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I am depressed.
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Besides all of that, tomorrow would have been DSK's birthday. He would have been 42, and we would have been celebrating together. His death has made this week especially hard for me. Even though he died in February, this is the week we should be celebrating his birthday together.
And he was too fucking young to leave this world, you know?
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I loved you so much, baby boy. If you can read this from wherever you are now, please know how much you were loved, and how much you are missed.
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FCGST
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151 nostalgia

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 00:39:33 GMT

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memories spurred from the 151
fucking un-noticed in maas freight elevator
blow jobs in the long corridor
aside the fun tunnel'
thin lizzy on the jukebox
and a halo that breathes life into this form
into this form
into this thing that once was body and soul united
now an absurd heap
dying to live
in the realm that once was called heaven
dying to live
in a memory that will not fade
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FCGST (sensory mode intoxicated)
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Yoko's Fluxus Era

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 20:11:30 GMT

2 ONO FILMS

What Do You Have To Say? - Music: My First Favorite Band

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 05:11:01 GMT

What was the first band you became a fan of?

Brought to you by HP | Contest | Vote for Winners!

View 500 Answers

The Mothers Of Invention: when I was 8 years old my father was given a box of random 8-track tapes, one of which was "Freak Out" by The Mothers Of Invention. I was too young to appreciate what they were singing about, but I liked the sounds they made. When I was older, I started to understand what the words actually meant, and I began to appreciate them on a very different level.

Water & Water

Tue, 28 Aug 2007 03:01:05 GMT

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It was raining early this morning.
It rained all afternoon.
It is still raining tonight.
Yes, this has caused some minor flooding in the streets and low-lying areas, but it has also cooled things down beautifully. The constant cloud cover may have already saved me a small fortune in air-conditioning. And that is a good thing, because it might make up for my recent plumbing debacle.
You see, a couple of weeks ago my house was flooded (again) when the water heater went kablooey. skyforest and her gallant hubby KF came quickly to my rescue and installed a new water heater which is working superbly. Unfortunately, immediately after this, the packing on the kitchen sink stops came loose and I had another flood issue. This time our family plumber (my brother Dave's plumber, actually) came to help. But, alas, this was not the end of my troubles. The toilet began doing some creepy scary things that were vaguely reminiscent of the projectile vomiting scenes in THE EXORCIST. Another KF (different from the one married to skyforest) half fixed that problem, and the next day Dave's plumber fixed the rest. It seems a coat hanger (or something like it) had gotten way down into the sewer line. Weird, eh?
Anyhow, it looks like finally things are getting under control here.
And the lovely rain cooling everything down has made me a happy boy.
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FCGST (sensory mode stormy)
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Some SP Vids For You

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 09:38:52 GMT

Merely Domestic

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 09:07:42 GMT

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The night before last, at around 10PM, I was startled out of bed by screams. A woman in the rental space next door was screaming "no" and "help" in amongst a lot of unintelligible noise. A baby was crying. Another woman was urging the first to come inside quickly. Then, gunfire. Seven shots from what cops later identified as a Browning (.9mm semi-automatic). One of the seven shots hit ny house. One bounced off the back-yard fence. The man with the gun fled on foot. He was later (around 3AM) caught by police. While this went on, I spent the night quivering and shaking with fear, and my stomach curled into a twisted knot. The police had told me to stay low. I did. They also said for me to not worry, since this was "merely a domestic disturbance". I have a problem with that. I am still unnerved.
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This morning, in an unrelated story, a man was arrested for killing a 3-year-old boy by body slamming him onto the ground in part of what was a series of "ongoing incidents of domestic violence" within that family. This, too, was right here in Lee County (where I live). So common a thing that police refer to it as "merely domestic". I feel sick.
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I don't know what else to say. I just needed to say something.
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FCGST
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Still Half Asleep... Dream Of Rhoda...

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 07:05:59 GMT

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There was a time when magic was real. I recall Rhoda saying that if things had gone as they should have she'd have met me in that time. I've often wondered how that might have made things different, and how that might have made things the same. When I say magic i am not talking about supernatural powers, but the magic that existed within the communion of the denizens of decay as we explored the possibilities of language. Communication at higher decibels than were previously thought possible. But that was thirty years ago. Let me shift into today. The reason I am writing this is that I had a dream. I just woke from a dream. Dreaming is free, you know. And it opens doors that no other key can unlock. The dream key. And here was Rhoda before I had known her sitting comfortably in a cafe with DD and Peter and I and our usual pack of simmering wolverines devouring Baudelaire or Camus or Plath. Dreams swerve images out of the realm of possibilities and into something beyond those limits. So here I see Rhoda and she has become an angel replete with standard issue angel garb. She is speaking so sweetly I feel this serene warmth bathe the entire scene. Then out of that sweetness there are hints of devilry caught somewhere between playful and sinister. I gesture to DD a look that says "She's one of us, all right." DD smiles knowingly then goes back to her coffee and reading of Plath poems. Then the dream takes a turn and I am whirling like a dervish dance in trance through the rabbit hole with Alice and all the stars falling with me as I black out into an ecstatic black hole or super nova. I have lost all concept of matter and I am stretching and reaching the boundaries beyond these three dimensions of our day-to-day. I wake up with memories of things that never occurred. Memories of the sessions of effortless communion with Rhoda and our ilk several years before she and I ever first made contact. In waking I am moved to tears at the realization of word as opium/absinthe/myrrh/arsenic/sugar/semen everything sacred tempting us to orgasmic displays of pure expression: the holiest communion of all.
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FCGST (sensory mode iniquitous)
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Sat, 14 Jul 2007 15:40:50 GMT

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The dream has made a slurry of the 20th century that comes out like opium. Addictive and entrancing. The temptation and allure is so solid it can not be denied. I image my own exit. fifty seems a good starting point. Then a quick chill wind sweeps me into a 1927 bordello where everything is just as it should be, and where it should have stayed. No more abusive stares from the judgmental eyes who refuse to accept this erotique with which I am doomed to travel, and no more misunderstandings from the irreverent boys who gather streetside as my fleshy corpse is parading for their amusement. Freedom in a quick step back, And then there is love. Something we've lost in this so-called advanced civilization. This is no new aeon. This is a new dark age. Book burners and mechanized brain control. Sickening synthetic impostor of the real love. Sex in boxes with no genuine touch. Music without aesthetic. Lifeless existence. And so I see escape as something blessed. Age where a tenement window and a lover with a spike were the only real downfalls, and that is better to deal with than this generation of hatred and scorn. Trust me. It is for the best. And in transition the sweeper transforms everyone.
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FCGST (sensory mode planning)
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America, Where Are You?

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 13:15:45 GMT

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A history lesson...

777

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 13:35:55 GMT

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I know you've heard doors slamming.
You've tried serving two masters.
Two masters always spoil everyhing.
They quibble over such silly things.
And then they stumble
on some insignificant crack
in some dirty bar room floor
where some of their followers got drunk
from tainted whisky
and never guessed they were being poisoned.
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FCGST (sensory mode oblique)
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Please Help If You Can

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 17:48:50 GMT

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Hey people, this is important!
Trish Trash (FM people will remember her from Rainbow Records) needs surgery, and she needs help raising money for it. She is uninsured, and needs a tumor removed. This is very serious. If you can help her by donating money towards her surgery fund, please visit the link below to do so. There is a minimum donation amount of $10US. That is about 7,50€ (depending on fluctuations). If you can help, please do. If you can not afford to, that's cool, but maybe you can repost this bulletin and spread the word. Any way you can help her is very much appreciated. Thanks.

https://www.fundable.org/groupactions/groupaction.2007-07-05.7474583139

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FCGST (sensory mode urgent)
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