“Breathe in strength. Breathe out bullsh*t.”
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Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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I think Fred says it….
https://www.unz.com/freed/blackness-fatigue-enough-is-too-much/
Ironic (if that’s the word I want) that the Regime and its minions (BLM, antifa [the “lumpen proletariat”], media, schools, corporations, military) is doing everything needed to fulfill Marx’s prophesy of a revolutionary class.
Ironic how?
Because the Regime is not creating a revolutionary working class.
It is creating a revolutionary class consisting of Whites and Black and Hispanic allies (who just want to be left alone) who are heavily armed, increasingly race-conscious and class conscious (“They hate all of US!”), pissed off, exploited (“Hey, whitey, YOU pay our rent and for our food as we speak of killing you off.”), demeaned, threatened, subject to punishment for the wrong words, and “immiserated” with job destruction, inflation, and economic depression.
The regime is creating an armed racial majority that invents, produces, and sustains the infrastructure and economic system on which the regime depends—into a mortal enemy.
Whatta buncha of dumb asses.
Just as they ascribe a sense of racial superiority and violence to Whites and Trump-populists—as if these were a bad thing—Whites and Trump-populists are seeing the regime as inferiors and pansies.
Tatty-suited egg shaped wet farters; lantern-jawed asshat Frankenstein lying wife-dependent twit; screeching ferret-faced harpy wombat spinsters; self-inflating toxic gas bags; alcoholic ankle-bloated bulb-nosed maggot-bored crone-manatee; rattling dentured tits-up-to-her neck half crazy lizard-skinned harpy. Well, the point has been made.
Look at how we make fun of the Joint Chiefs. “Real warriors, you guys are. Shrimps and Fatsos. Yeah yeah. We get it. Medals.”
Do they look at all scary?
“Oh, just siddown and shaddap. You read Marx and Lenin. GFY.”
It didn’t take F 15s and nukes to take out the Cesescue regime. It took misery and authoritarian control, followed by class consciousness (“These guys are screwing us over!”), followed by mass ridicule, arrest, one soldier with an AK 47, and a wall.
Easy peasy trigger squeezie.
Meanwhile, Olive the AD Editor-in-Residence leads a class of Zen kitties in tuning in to the Sound of the Cosmic Purr:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdgPJZOB3xA&ab_channel=FurballFables
Been doing that for years.
Northern Maine is relatively unaffected by the bullshit. And we have constitutional carry, so there’s that.
Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day’s useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one.
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son.
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white,
But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion.
–mb, 67′
What’s going on is nothing new. history’s simply repeating itself. The sky’s not falling. Nothings changed around here. Ammo’s starting to re appear, guns can be ordered. If ones shopping for gun pieces parts, their available daily, just have to flip the right rock over.
Aero out of Eastern Wa, has been pretty consistent. Not top shelf but not DPMS either. Prices are up, but then the Dems are running the shit show. Most here understood the consequences of the communist theft of an election.
Ain’t nothing going to change for three years and a few months. History repeating itself. Don’t let govt or the right agitators push your buttons.
VI
That was totally fuckin’ relaxing. Now I’m all enlightened. I’m gonna’ go burn one to celebrate.
JWM
JWM….can I drop by for a couple of hits? On the other matter, SSDD and I’ve been ready for years and actually, in a weird way, looking forward to it with anticipation. I get that way when I’ve had enough and something needs to pop.
“Fuck It”
-short form of the Serenity Prayer.
“ burn one”, love it, don’t smoke haven’t in many many years. keep many many pounds of bud in the preps. It’s medicine, and I’ve learned that even in times of crisis, people want their vices. An Oregon Ounce will be dam near pure gold. We’ve recently added ten pounds of CBG, similar to CBD’s. Son in laws sitting on 13500 pounds of CBG manicured bud. Can’t find a market for it.
We have around twenty ounces of opium seeds, purchased via Amazon. The flowers are stunning. Maybe a thousand feminized pot seeds. Buy two acres worth of heirloom garden seeds yearly, come in a can, store well. Lots and lots of cheap booze, for trading.
I no longer believe we’ll need it. Civil war will come, but not in my life time. Our govt has done everything possible to force Americans into a fight, all our side does is talk tougher, and much louder, a cruel joke really.
Off to Crater lake, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Go a couple times a year, every time the initial sighting is stunning,,,,,, Mother Nature at her finest.
VI
Don’t never turn your back on the ocean. It wants to eat you.
All goofing aside, here.
I’ve enjoyed the smoke for many years. Truth to tell, my mental health goes off balance all too easily, and the weed is a stabilizer. For me, anyway. As they say in internet speak, YMMV. I used to wonder, half kidding, whether smoking was driving me nuts, or keeping me from going crazy. I’ve done long, serious time sober, with no buzz of any kind. I haven’t had a drink of alcohol since 1990. During those sober years I put stuff on my resume that I’d just as soon expunge. I’m better off when I smoke. When I was in health ed class in high school, the textbook said that using drugs was a crutch. So is using a crutch if your leg doesn’t work as well as it should.
JWM
I’m down with Dirk for Crater Lake…. been there twice and yearn to go a third time to contemplate its blue found nowhere else and its depths that no man knows and that it is fed by a fountain that was not made by the hand of man.
Alas, not this week.
I am off to see the sea at Ft. Bragg to escape the heatsink of Chico this week with temps at 107 and down.
Ft. Bragg on the coast is scheduled for some warm days too… temps could go as high as 60. I will report in from time to time but I do need to see the sea even if my feet prevent me from wading in the sand.
Well I left my connections behind a long time ago but if I had access to some quality seedage I’d certainly get my farmer boots out of the barn. Maybe even set up a green house.
Outstanding ! We all need to react to the asininity of our so called ruling elites in just this manner, but even then they simply won’t “get it”, they are so enraptured with their self impotence.
I’m an extremely independent sort and have been reacting to any form of direction from others in just this manner my entire life, except when I have to in order to make a living, but only then and only when it’s absolutely necessary. Other than that I don’t need no stinking help, I can F*** UP up my life very well all by myself thank you very much.
I am on the Mendocino Coast myself this weekend Gerard. Anniversary getaway with my sweetheart of 36 years. Can confirm daytime highs of 60-61. Enjoy! Back to El Dorado County and the heat next week.
Ft Bragg, Cali. Used to free dive for abalone along the coast at Ft Bragg. Beautiful, free living people back then (early to late sixties). We know people there now who say the area has been turned into a freak zone by leftists and out and out commies who run everything. Restrictions and insane rules for how everything must be done. Or cannot be done.
And we’re back, In thirty years of yearly trips, we’ve never seen Crater lake so low! I am shocked. Perhaps fifty ft of shore line visible on the nw section. Also never seen this much pollen floating on the water. Admittedly it’s a really addictive year for pollen.
The yellow pollen floating on the aqua blue lake is Vivid!
GV, come on up, being 100% disabled vet, have a lifetime pass. Every time I see Crater lake for the first time were amazed at what god made for our enjoyment!.
Fort Bragg, say hello to the Williams family. All my cousins and uncle have lived their since the early sixties. Own at least one of the commercial electrical companies. Actually they reside in Mendocino, Uncle Art built the big River Inn,,,,,,on his property. Sold it, many years ago. Still lives in the red residence on the property.
Ab diving, also grew up free diving along the Mendocino, FortBrag coast. Back in my teens was Noyo Harbor. I’m told not many “ Abs exist anymore. My mom and step dad own several lots right on the beach at Shelter Cove. Monster abs, low tide didn’t need to dive just tide pooling.
The Vietcong and the Russian Poachers wiped the population of Abs out according to a Fish and Game associate.
GV, seriously plenty of room, can’t do it this week, early Monday morning I’m headed to Ft Worth Texas to pick up our 40 ft Jayco Fifth Wheel Toy Hauler, the Talon 392 Platinum. Two days down I day learning the trailer, two days back.
All the neighbors have ponied up five hundred dollars for fireworks from Arizona! The big boys! Hang Fire,!!!.
VI