fin.finito.infinito

Sat, 12 Dec 2009 16:17:29 GMT

I HAVE A SPECIAL PLAN FOR THIS WORLD
THOMAS LIGOTTI

when everyone you have ever loved is finally gone
when everything you have ever wanted is finally done with
when all of your nightmares are for a time obscured
as by a shining brainless beacon
or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world
when you are calm and joyful
and finally entirely alone
then in a great new darkness
you will finally execute your special plan

one needs to have a plan someone said who was turned away into the shadows
and who i had believed was sleeping or dead
imagine he said all the flesh that is eaten
the teeth tearing into it
the tongue tasting its savor
and the hunger for that taste
now take away that flesh he said
take away the teeth and the tongue
the taste and the hunger
take away everything as it is
that was my plan
my own special plan for this world
i listened to these words and yet i did not wonder
if this creature whom i had thought sleeping or dead would ever approach his vision
even in his deepest dreams
or his most lasting death
because i had heard of such plans such visions
and i knew they did not see far enough
but what was demanded in a way of a plan
needed to go beyond tongue and teeth and hunger and flesh
beyond the bones and the very dust of bones and the wind that would come to blow the dust away
and so i began to envision a darkness that was long before the dark of night
and a strangely shining light
that owed nothing to the light of day

that day may seem like other days
once more we feel the tiny legged trepidations
once more we are mangled by a great grinding fear
but that day willhave no others after
no more worlds like this will follow
because i have a plan
a very special plan
no more worlds like this
no more days like that

there are but four ways to die a sardonic spirit might have said to me
there is dying that occurs relatively suddenly
there is dying that occurs relatively gradually
there is dying that occurs relatively painlessly
there is the death that is full of pain
thus by various means they are combined
the sudden and the gradual
the painless and the painful
to yield but four ways to die
and there are no others
even after the voice stopped speaking
I listened for it to speak again
after hours and day and years have passed
I listened for some further words
yet all I heard were the faintest echoes reminding me
there are no others
there are no others
was it then that I began to conceive for this world
a special plan?

there are no means for escaping this world
it penetrates even into your sleep
and is his substance
you are caught in your own dreaming
where there is no space
and a hell forever where there is no time
you cant do nothing you aren't told to do
there is no hope for escape from this dream
that was never yours
the very words you speak are only its very words
and you talk like a traitor
under its incessant torture

there are many who have designs upon this world
and dream of wild and vast reformations
i have heard them talking in their sleep
of elegant mutations
and cunning annihilations
i have heard them whispering in the corners of crooked houses
and in the alleys and narrow back streets of this crooked creaking universe
which they with their new designs were made straight and sound
but each of these new and ill conceived designs
is deranged in its heart
for they see this world as if it were alone and original
and not as only one of count with others
whose nightmares all precede
like a hideous garden grown from a single seed
i have heard these dreamers talking in their sleep
and i stand waiting for them
as at the top of a darkened flight of stairs
they know nothing of me
and none of the secrets of my special plan
while i know every crooked creaking step of theirs

it was the voice of someone who was waiting in the shadows
who was looking at the moon and waiting for me to turn the corner
and enter a narrow street
and stand with him in the dull glaze of moonlight
then he said to me
he whispered
that my plan was misconceived
that my special plan for this world was a terrible mistake
because, he said, there is nothing to do and there is no where to go
there is nothing to be and there is no one to know
your plan is a mistake,he repeated
this world is a mistake, i replied

the children always followed him
when they saw him hopping by
a funny walk
a funny man
a funny funny funny man
he made them laugh sometimes
he made them laugh oh yes he did
he did he did he did he did
oh how he made them roll
one day he took them to a place
he knew a special place
and told them things about this world
this funny funny funny world
which made them laugh sometimes
he made them laugh oh yes he did
he did he did he did he did
oh how he made them roll
then the funny man who made them laugh
sometimes he did
revealed to them his special plan
his very special funny plan
knowing they would understand
and maybe laugh sometimes
he made them laugh
oh yes he did
he did he did he did he did
their eyes grew wide beneath there lids
and how he made them roll

i first learned the facts from a lunatic
in a dark and quiet room that smelled of stale time and space
there are no people
nothing at all like that
the human phenomenon is but the sum of densely coiled layers of illusion
each of which winds itself upon the supreme insanity
but there are persons of any kind
when all that can be is mindless mirrors
laughing and screaming as they parade about
in an endless dream
but when i asked the lunatic what it was
it swore itself within these mirrors
as they marched endlessly in stale time and space
he only looked and smiled
then he laughed and screamed
and in his black and empty eyes
i saw for a moment as in a mirror
a form the shade of divinity
in flight from its stale infinity
oftime and space and the worst of all
of this world dreams
my special plan for the laughter
and the screams

we went to see some little show
that was staged in an old shed
past the edge of town
and in its beginnings all seemed well
the miniature curtain stage glowed in the darkness
while those dolls bounced along on their strings before our eyes
and in its beginnings all seemed well
but then there came a suttle turning point which some have noticed
and i was one
who quietly left the show
no i did not
because i could see where things were going
as the antics of those dolls grew strange
and the fragile strings grew taut
with their tiny pullings ,tiny limbs
the others around me became appalled
and turned away and abandoned the show
that was staged in an old shed
past the edge of town
but i wanted to witness what could never be
i wanted to see what could not be seen
but the moment of consummate disaster
my puppets turned to face the puppet master

it was twilight and i stood in a grayish haze of the vast empty building
when the silence was enriched by a reverberant voice
all the things of this world it said
are of but one essence
for which there are no words
this is the greater part which has no beginning or end
and the one essence of this world for which there can be no words
is that all the things of this world
this is the lesser part which had a beginning and shall have an end
and for which words were conceived solely to speak of
the tiny broken beings of this world it said
the beginnings and endings of this world it said
for which words were conceived solely to speak of
now remove these words and what remains it asks me
as i stood in the twilight of that vast empty building
but i did not answer
the question echoed over and over
but i remained silent until the echoes died
and as twilight passed into the evening i felt my
special plan for which there are no words
moving towards a greater darkness

there are some who have no voices
or none that will ever speak
because of the things they know about this world
and the things they feel about this world
because the thoughts that fill a brain
that is a damaged brain
because the pain that fills a body
that is a damaged body
exists in other worlds
countless other worlds
each of which stands alone in an infinite empty blackness
for which no words are being conceived
and whereno voices are able to speak
when a brain is filled only with damaged thoughts
when a damaged body is filled only with pain
and stands alone in a world surrounded by infinite empty blackness
and exists in a world for which there is no special plan

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 01:39:14 GMT

all in all i've just been very happy;
so there isn't much to report
but everything passes, i just hope
I just tell myself it doesnt have to end
this doesn't have to end
end

because life is so precious & its a long way down
when we are sad & want to end it all it's easy to
forget, so remember this too shall pass & so it did pass
to make way for something wonderful.

I am just glad i got to her before it was too late
before she came to her end in that bed & walk out of life
which doesn't have to end, not yet it doesn't have to
& i am greatful for it, because i have everything
& there is no end to the happyness i feel
no end

mis furias , mis alas

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 06:19:11 GMT

|Mis Furias Mis Alas| (My Furies My Wings)|

(It’s said that the future will be better)
My experience is the evidence which turns us to monsters
Face to face with you, Face to face with me,
and face to face with what’s to come and my furies
and the ways.. that last too long,
We start now, we start now.. just because..
To go to the blue in the skies.. and the stars..
I’ll say it again: we start today, we start now,
We do not see on the path we are on now,
Look at my wings, look at my Wings,
This is the road of memory,
and I see your eyes..
You’d like to die to be free at last 6X

Cry out loud then..light me home
I am allowed to doubt,
I'm allowed..STOP!"

--
novy svet | from 'nuevo babylon'
thank you alan g for translation
from original spanish

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 21:42:33 GMT

l
you know having always the obsession with the cultural diaspora
that is oft responsible in begetting great artists, I imagined certain hubs,
points of convergences witin its varied matrix, no leaders just rhizomes
bound in matter,bulbous root sprout radial topographies;
bilateral undertakings terrestrial outspread

Think of Bar Maldoror for C 93, the Solar Lodge of coil, the crazyness
of late 70's-80's tape-punk expolsion & its collective, free floating art units ,
'gran complotto' in Italy, sensationel comp. artists like Architect's Office, La 1919, DDAA etc,.
as far as Europe,.. LA Free Music society in the states, & various chaos majik
spinoffs and anarchic prophets branching out their canon via subteranian means

& the great NOW which is as wide & as open as EVER, still banal censorship
but how far have they come?!

Anyway maybe bar maldoror is a state of mind, along with many others alike
like steve & jacques Rock n' Roll session it def survives the test of time, if only
as inspiration for expiration, from generation to generation reconstructed & resucitated
old skin as pelt of the new NOW, the new YOU, absorbed in yourself & thus in EVER- e- THING

The below recording is a short thing called 'Solar Lodge' - elevator music one may happen to
hear ascending to the Solar Lodge penthouse suite to pay your respects to John, Friends & The Vultures

just doin' my part, this was all after the death of Balance but as you know dear friends them bells shall sound 4eva.

locomotif - solar lounge

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 21:06:31 GMT

Having mentioned I myself am both a listener
& producer of various frequencies I think it is time
to share some of these works with you.

Being a sound-scientist I am always jumping from
one thing to the next so please understand what I
post on here is just some sketches, manipulations
things generated by myself, for myself & sometimes you.

I rarely complete something, let alone master a recording
though I do my best with the tools I have as well as a growing
number of various props to add an acoustic element
(having recently taken up guitar, harmonica & other less
formal means of composition).

Today I bring for you a track titled 'the house thats empty now'
in reference to & slight modification of Sopor Aeternus song title
& rightly so as this was the original inspiration & silent dedication to
the artist (though I've thought of using certain samples from that piece)
- the future will determine the course of this work.

Think of this & other works as plays on a theme, tape-collage, renditions
of a landscape unto aural domains, auditory sculptures & soundscapes.

locomotif - the house that's empty now

* as the composition is underlined by a sub-bass melody,
adequate presentation of these low tones is imperative to the work
& require apropriate means of output, such as speakers capable of
processing low frequencies ie. quad mid/hi Hz columns & subwoofer.

shedding light on a needle fixation

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 18:49:53 GMT

her

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 19:17:57 GMT

how it was then, what became, of you , of me
seems out of my hands now, and always so..no no
never in my *control* (you know dear how I always deny ANY responsibility)

It was may & i didn't know where I was, where my heart was at.
oh I've cut my self out, welded shut the gate long time, so very very..
"so here I stand building my own demise" sang that goth boi who lives inside;
maybe I've grown learned few more words but his reign..just biding time/bound to same course/ doing his bidding

& then you , that fateful spring, everything was going wrong (but we'r so happy!)
scrapping my best friendship, misunderstandings, was i wrong..?what if..
I deceived myself then, I have told you that i loved you, but I didn't..
not YET, no not then..sleepless nights, hope despair compounded with ceaseless need
for..something i could not yet fathom to the fullest ex-tent

so, I lay myself here before you all, as now I am sure, there is no doubt in mind.
she is my everything now. she is still here, why is she still here? that day we read poems
to each other [ me Octavio Paz "Sunstone", her Ginsberg's "Sunflower Sutra" ], perfect, PERFECT
& I go loose control, never in *control*. Just old wounds now, aching when times in retrograde & skies{/eyes} hued gunmetal grey

I feel blessed & I send my love outward else it nebulise into something I like to avoid.
will write more, much more will now,just you wait, just you..just for you.
all hail the glorius sun wedded to that moon, like circular rend upon ceiling of the carnival tent
- we all must attend, we’re forced to attend - but all carnivals end, as they must;

..so do what thou wilt!

<<My cigarettes, I don't know what they taste like
Other women seem so ugly to me now
Playthings stand dusty
Books lie open on the page where I met her
And that other life
Is just a memory to me now>>
-S.Staples

Fri, 01 May 2009 18:11:47 GMT

MAY21 - MERZBOW - POLISH COMBATANTS HALL

JUNE12/13 - MICHAEL GIRA - DRAKE LOUNGE

.

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 20:04:16 GMT

"in my spare time i forget my dreams" - anon.

a wolf wind blows down straw heart

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 19:41:57 GMT

throughcurtain pink light lingers here
time is compact again, again, again
fingers upon ladyDUB run amok
counterclockwise rotation,
pelvis gyration, crackles & wheeps
SUBmiss., a wet kiss?
- swampy honey for a dust bunny,
or featherd tongue slips you 'neath
solid black circling VINYLeclipse.
cut & paste over a tad bad BASSbeams
smoothing seams, dimples & nodules
- collection of neat scar & stitch upon the start strewn...
GLITCHlove: silver sophia dove scrape
your lung & she is gone.

purring or growling?
wonders a Nautilus confined in that crevice,
where sounds dip and expire.
but I do not question - I transmit
LOCOMOTIF is neither hope nor deceit..

~~IDEAL~~

a very 'UNPOPART' lil. marvel

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 07:39:50 GMT

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 20:59:25 GMT

I laboured night & day attempting at
making a meaningful post/mending my past.
Slip of the hand - it's all gone.
Dispassionate furniture shroued with incapacity
& shortcomings strewn about where earlier i saw
ineffible wonders in those tapestries, somehow extending
the melange into words.
The wave has hit and receded;
these are but unyeilding
pebbles not yet sucked back into sea.

Time to go play hide& ESCAPE in the public,
all while anticipating the cold mudpuddle spray
in the face, their vehicles hurrying by brimfull of
unfeeling eyes, staring through thin scentless air,
alight only as they see my degredation & fascial
nerves tighten muscles into cruel non-verbal signs
recognized by the simian heritage we share. Submission
to that final reality further debased by the chemical stain
on my being & the gulf I must cross - current fades into trembling
grey anxiety of unnerving velocity, the trajectory I
dare not pursue in current frame of mind. end

*****

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 05:29:35 GMT

it ain't me, babe

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 18:19:41 GMT

my favorite Dylan cover... enjoy

_

anything is possible

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 05:48:53 GMT

[excert of lyric; originally
voice accompanied by
degraded guitar loop    ]

on second thought   ,
anything is possible
nothing is in your way
nothing is stopping you
NOTHING

are you ready to face nothing?
but there is nothing to face
- nothing before your face
- nothing before your eyes
NOTHING, simply - nothing
... ... ...
absolutely nothing to worry about?
an absolute nothing to worry about.

                    -x-x-x-

patamorphosis..

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 16:25:06 GMT

..when a lizards tail has grown too long &
breaks off and grows a new lizard...

reverse order of operations is also possible -
the daemon of addiction as false limb wighed heavy
for these past four years. four years of nothin nothing nothing
dont bother telling me otherwise to make me feel better.
it was trash then - then it began to stink - became a composte heap
now it is returned back to the soil (no no dont expect me to use the
"fine flowers growing out of the festering carcass of old").. because
i am unscertain of what is to come. i am not going one day at a time
one fuckign vibration at a time. it is easy though.. i make it hard.

strength | honour | friendship | courage

also let us not forget humility, virtue most lacking in this darn epoch IMO

all for now,

~~tarnhari~~ /manyfacedmothefuckka'

       <<no más de palabras - solamente carne>> - J.Weber
              trans. - <<no more words - only flesh>>
                                       -x-x-x-

Sun, 01 Mar 2009 06:52:18 GMT

i am putting myself away for a while. made the arrangemtns at work.
Why is it they always love to put drug rehabs in these scenic places?
Niagra Falls in my case, as if i will set foot outside rejoicing at spring's onset.

the truth is: i regret nothing, i cherish'd every moment / disdain every moment without.
fact: I have not been here or anywhere, inner sanctum castrated , stuffed & mounted
as some former glory no longer pinned to the lapelle but kept collecting dust.. yes i was
becoming what i always stived towards..no more longing - only frustration. nomore "art"

Literaly & not so , i've been asleep for these past 4 years, may have been 40

metanoia

Sat, 30 Dec 2006 16:01:48 GMT

opiates offer very little.

the world much too much.

The former has nearly claimed my life

A year of dependence now comes to a close.

Time to reopen my books, face the expanse I hitherto turned from

The curtain is rend, the spotlight falls - what little grace remains within - show yourself in this last performance

~~Tarnhari~~

Mon, 13 Mar 2006 04:25:43 GMT

a keen explorer of my thoughts now meanders quietly afore minds eye till sleep descends to seperate our gazes for a while though soon in his caress reunited will i be and dream a dream of waking day and softly sink my disasmbled limbs and tired flesh into the rusty orange fur of my dear idol furball of feline majesty a grace beyond compare to that of man - Tarnahri

Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.

When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.

-- Charles Baudelaire, Fleurs Du Mal

all that remains..

Mon, 06 Feb 2006 19:00:29 GMT

..is my INSATIABILITY

remembrance, day of

Wed, 16 Nov 2005 04:46:46 GMT

the echelons glide past sporting a
gracious red blossom upon their lapels
yet knowledge of the thirst this mark
instills in those quiet ignorant of it's
symbolic bearing, evades their arid eyes

Aha!Dear reader, the vitae coarsing
through the orb cloaked by the scarlet
tissue, of which i speak, outways the
praise reserved for those long gone,
departed, marked as victors so that
death again may have it's cull

Today we celebrate the poppy strown
path; in fervor let Aproditie's tears
drown all those misers outcries,
beguiling promises of greater days
and soaring boasts of pride...

~Tarnhari, 11.11.05
(slumber ensued shortly after)

«O poppy-buds, that in the golden air
Wave heavy hanging censers of delight,
Give me an anodyne for my despair;
O crimson poppy-blooms, O golden blight,
O careless drunken heavy poppy-flowers,
Make that the day for me be as the night.
Give me to lie down in your drowsy bowers,
That having breathed of your rich perfume,
My soul may have all-rest through all the hours;
So shall I lie within my little room.
While the poor tyrants of the world go by,
Restfully shrouded in your velvet gloom,
Beneath the wide face of the cloudless sky.»
- Paul Barnitz,
The Book of Jade

the long awaited elucidation

Mon, 22 Aug 2005 15:40:01 GMT

WHAT IS IT? (Crispin Glover, USA, 2005) WHAT IS IT? is a bewildering, unnerving, surreal, blackly comic film from the visionary mind of Crispin Glover that tells the inner and outer struggles of a young man facing villains and demons on multiple planes. Rue Morgue, Daniloff Productions, Suspect Video, The Bloor Cinema, and the Drake Hotel present: An exclusive one night only engagement of CRISPIN HELLION GLOVER's magnum opus 35mm film, "WHAT IS IT?" This incredible Bloor Cinema event will include a rare personal appearance from Crispin Glover, as he introduces his film, presents a formal Q & A session and book signing following the feature. Tickets are $20.00 in advance, and $25.00 at the door. Advanced tickets available at the Bloor Cinema, Suspect Video, She Said Boom!, Rotate this, Pages Bookstore, and I'm With Stupid Clothing. August 28