A dream can dream a wonderful thing.

That my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream.

found it in my canned food....

Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.
Mel Brooks

objects in which the past crystallizes can function as a fetish for people who have lost loved ones.

The aesthetic response relies on a certain attitude, a detachment that Schopenhauer saw as loss of the individual will or self, and which Edward Bullough called the detachment or "psychical distance". We suspend belief. We know from the picture frame, stages, story title that these are not "real life" but something where greater wholeness and clarity will provide a more than compensating aesthetic pleasure. Not only do the picture frames, stage, etc. signal to us that the art-object is "not for real" but the elements inside, the whole matter composing the object, are not representations of the real, but a complex series of codes that we learn to interpret and apply. This view, developed by Nelson Goodman, links traditional aesthetics with linguistics and Structuralism, and questions any naive view of art as representation.

The pervasive image of ubiquitous decay

Here the sun is reborn daily. Peace will not reside here. Evil plays among the ruins, a poisonous pill to those who would try to tame it.

behind the scene

Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ~Voltaire

I am a little deaf, a little blind, a little impotent, and on top of this are two or three abominable infirmities, but nothing destroys my hope. ~Voltaire

Cineri gloria sera venit ...

Cineri gloria sera venit - Fame comes too late to the dead

But the scars won't let me forget

Death is a mystery What life awaits us after death? But it comes to all Its painful, tears and crush the soul

obviously obnoxiously odd,grit, grime and sod gotcha,noddin your noggin

Its rising is not bright nor its setting darkUnceasing, continuousBranching out in roots innumerableForever sending forth the serpent coil of living thingsMysterious as the formless existence to which it returnsTwisting backBeyond mindWe say only that it is form from the formlessLife from spiral void

desnuda (tribute to Goya)

Tribute to Goya
La maja desnuda (known in English as The Naked (or Nude) Maja) is an oil on canvas painting by the Spanish painter Francisco de Goya, portraying a nude woman reclining on a bed of pillows. It was executed some time between 1797 and 1800, and is sometimes said to be the first clear depiction of female pubic hair in a large Western painting[1]. The painting is in the Museo del Prado in Madrid.


Goya created another painting of the same woman identically posed, but clothed, entitled La maja vestida (The Clothed Maja); also in the Prado, it is usually hung next to La maja desnuda. The identity of the model and why the paintings were created are still unknown. Both paintings were first recorded as belonging to the collection of Prime Minister Manuel de Godoy, Duke of Alcudia, and it has been conjectured that the woman depicted was his young mistress. It has also been suggested that the woman was María del Pilar Teresa Cayetana de Silva y Álvarez de Toledo, 13th Duchess of Alba, with whom Goya is rumored to have been romantically involved and did complete known portraits of. However, many scholars have rejected this possibility, including Australian art critic Robert Hughes in his 2003 biography, Goya. Many agree that Pepita Tudó is a more likely candidate. Others believe the woman depicted is actually a composite of several different models.
In 1815, the Spanish Inquisition summoned Goya to reveal who commissioned him to create the "obscene" La maja desnuda, and he was consequently stripped of his position as the Spanish court painter. If Goya gave an explanation of the painting's origin to the Inquisition, that account has never surfaced. Two sets of stamps depicting La maja desnuda in commemoration of Goya's work were privately produced in 1930, and later approved by the Spanish Postal Authority. That same year, the United States government barred and returned any mail bearing the stamps.

I give myself to Music

Was it was a look or a touch Or was it something I said A silly mistake Or something stupid I did

purgatory

The genesis of the idea of Purgatory lies ultimately in the inevitability, finality, and mystery of death. To be human is to be aware of death and to be aware of death is to wonder what becomes of us when this quotidian life comes to an end. In the history of Christianity the consideration of the nature of life after death took varied and complex forms. From the time of the four evangelists and St. Paul, the idea of an afterlife of reward or punishment is clearly present. The acceptance of Purgatory as a middle place or state between Heaven and Hell was slower to develop.


For all the earth That yearned for Heaven, and all the Heaven that bent Toward it, separate by the gulf of sin, Love bridges at last, and ye behold herein The bridal joys of their so long desire. Ye see the path God's suffering paved with fire; And Christ comes down it.

life-wreck

earth travails the poets tell you are beautiful and faded sun and wind and beat of sea i bid them all farewell and so it goes melancholy days have comesing again the song you sung simplicity what shall we do now we break the glass whose sacred wine take my bracelets the shadows of the ships

discovering the orthodox thrill

An analyzable patient is a patient with whom the analyst can maintain the illusion of neutrality.

1. Isolated minds are Descartesmentalized.
2.
a. In a life constituted entirely by lies, the only authentic action possible is suicide.
b. In a life constituted entirely by lies, the ultimate act of compliance is suicide.
3. One result of psychoanalysis is that problems do not disappear from, but rather into our lives.
4.
Solipsism is a fantasy of the traumatized.

landscape with ruined house

And this reft house is that the which he built,Lamented Jack ! And here his malt he pil'd,Cautious in vain ! These rats that squeak so wild,Squeak, not unconscious of their father's guilt.Did ye not see her gleaming thro' the glade ?Belike, 'twas she, the maiden all forlorn.What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn,Yet aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd ;And aye beside her stalks her amorous knight !Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn,And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn,His hindward charms gleam an unearthly white ;As when thro' broken clouds at night's high noonPeeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon !


Samuel Coleridge - On A Ruined house In A Romantic Country

last hope

sunday morning in the church : a young man with spastic tetraparesis on the moment of taking the housel

very young rogue

How can you live in this way?(What do you think it's so strange)You must have something to say(You tell me why should I change)We have no reason to fight'Cos we both know that we're rightChild of vision, won't you listen?Find yourself a new ambition

rainy day, dream away

Rainy day, dream awayAh let the sun take a holidayFlowers bathe an' ah see the children playLay back and groove on a rainy day.Well I can see a bunch of wetcreatures, look at them on the runThe carnival traffic noise it singsthe tune splashing up 'n'Even the ducks can groove rainbathin' in the park side poolAnd I'm leanin' out my window sill diggin' ev'rythingAnd ah and you too.Rainy day, rain all dayAin't no use in gettin' uptightJust let it groove its own wayLet it drain your worries away yeahLay back and groove on a rainy day heyLay back and dream on a rainy day

a summer landscape

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate.Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date.Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimmed;And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;But thy eternal summer shall not fade,Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18) by William Shakespeare

a tensioned break

Ballad of the little tractor man

the dog walked just like it was smiling the man drove like the world was all right the tractor hummed on like a part of a song that you sing to your children at night his work was laid out there before him in rows of green, his whole life was revealed oh what I wouldn’t give if I could just live

remember the old cemetery ?

Darkness had descended quickly and mist was raising up from the ground, making it difficult to see it. As they neared the cemetery, the night became darker still and the air hung heavy making it tough to breath. The mist was still rising, it was up to Jenny’s knees.

Spider webs clung to the old tombstones. The trees looked dead with bare limbs hanging low to ground.

The tree limbs appeared to be dancing even though there was no breeze to move them

They turned around and behind them were five bright lights dancing in the air. The lights moved and closely encircled them as they danced.
They slowly walked toward the gate, the dancing lights moved with them every step. The lights now stood between them and the gate.

Le parc de la Tête d'Or (Tete d’or Park )

But peace does not rest in the charters and covenants alone. It lies in the hearts and minds of all people. So let us not rest all our hopes on parchment and on paper, let us strive to build peace, a desire for peace, a willingness to work for peace in the hearts and minds of all of our people. I believe that we can. I believe the problems of human destiny are not beyond the reach of human beings.
John F. Kennedy

a classic touch of b&w

A man with his belly full of the classics is an enemy of the human race.
Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

prisoner

Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.
Franklin D. Roosevelt,

end of the story

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real crisis moment

Iulian the monk

“There are only two kinds of freedom in the world; the freedom of the rich and powerful, and the freedom of the artist and the monk who renounces possessions”
Anais Nin quotes




“If you cry ''Forward'' you must be sure to make clear the direction in which to go. Don't you see that if you fail to do that and simply call out the word to a monk and a revolutionary, they will go in precisely opposite directions?”
Anton Chekhov quotes

the ( initiatic) journey

once, in the down when i was looking for clouds I met a very nice old man with her nephew and dog, riding an ancient motorcycle....they seems to be in a long journey, an existentialist ride for beauty and truth and especially , wisdom

I'm singing and dansing in the rain

I´m singin´ in the rainJust singin´ in the rain,What a glorious feeling,And I´m happy again.I´m laughing at cloudsSo dark, up above,The sun´s in my heartAnd I´m ready for love.Let the stormy clouds chase.Everyone from the place,Come on with the rainI have a smile on my face.I´ll walk down the laneWith a happy refrainJust singin', singin' in the rain.Dancing in the rain.I'm happy again.I'm singin' and dancin' in the rain.Dancin' and singin' in the rain

gothic surf

Once you learn all the radical movesI know it will put you in the grooveGo off the lip and in the tubeIf I can do it so can you.So go


Surf will never ever dieCause the feeling makes me fly so highMy love
for surf is very strongSo the ocean is where I belong.We go