just sum home--words doin'--work 03/20/2012
Hey, I hope you had a happy St. Patty's day. I did (see: uncertainty in previous post [see also: Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, because that shit's just wicked cool]). The hellish finals week has got me all fucked up with sleep, and I'm back to indulging in my nocturnal proclivity. I hope to amend this soon, but without further ado, Amen. gentleMen, Ladies, indefinitely Confused, I give you my 'POETre reADING reVIEW' (an assigned attendance and write-up of a local reading in which poetry was read [that really turned out to be a "scathing... review" of the worn-through postmodernist literary conventions {intentionally plural, intended as a pun}]) and my 'Æsthetic Statement?' (an assignmeant to reflect and elaborate up/on the "questions, processes, and impulses that underlie the principles or directions of your writing". [which because by the time I began to write it, I'd already written ≈ 9-10 pages of text for about 8-10 hours, it did not as I would wish very consciously, cautiously do this, but together with the accompanying document, may have very well done a satisfactory job of]), both of which were assignments for my now over Poetry class. Enjoy; fill in the blanks; fulfill your life and yourself
Add Comment New.Shit.New.Shit.New.Shit.--gimme a beat 03/06/2012
Howdy, y'all! Feliz dia de los remembering the Alamo. As noted in the post previous, I have been writing more. And my laptop was in the Philippines I believe getting repaired. But now it is back, on my lap, going to work and getting filled with my heady ejaculations--of words, you pervert. The new wordks you can find, per the uje (/as usual), on the following tab: Walker Jones' Other Works. I don't have everything quite done yet, but I have all I'm going to do tonight and will finish the rest as they come. I just can't help myself with the innuendo... which tells me I should take a break. Stop. Drop. Roll. Fire. Smoke. Flash. Dance. Voila: a diddy: [the following was a post on the Seattle newspaper's online personal forum listen: it was free and sometimes I get lonely, don't we all. so I had fun with it, since I'm so much younger than everyone else, and composed, well, you can read {N.B. i do believe there will be more of these musicalike things to come.}] Hey there good evening how ya doing ladies? I guess you might be on here looking to make some babies Or just some love, or maybe just to find some One that's true and not "too good to be"come "Ya boi"—toy/or/friend—no, wait: what you really want's a man To make you feel full inside like only he can And so you scan through strangers online impers Onals and dime a dozens, your lovelife change is worse Than it was before you even logged on And flipped through "ad"s like in a fashion catalogue On every page, a different mannequin to see But now you've turned up every last stone and come to me My stone is rolling, gathering steam up and no moss I got you scrolling, reading this right? at a loss Of what to make of This must be fake, well Miss you're wide awake, I'll Pinch you for the sake of proving I'm real, not complex or even imaginary I'm oddly radical, makin more waves than a ferry Or Rick Perry, though I'm sweet as acai berry In a smoothie, smoother than a Ben & Jerry Rich as dairy, or extra virgin olive oil Hot as water heatin up to a rolling boil And gettin hotta, 'nough to make you recoil But I play it cool, don't want any turmoil Just some fun with someone—hey just like you So listen closely as I tell you what to do: Just click the button on the left hand side of the screen And leave a message, don't you worry there's no beep We can get to talkin, maybe over some coffee beans About your dog or your life's hopes & dreams They could come true you May never know though Unless you try to Give a new guy a go Yo! This is an original note that I started as a brainstorming reaction to reading a book on Marcel ("How Reading) Proust (Can Change Your Life"), more specifically the direction he took with his "In Search of Lost Time" [sic], on my phone. I continued on to tangents (somewhat disclosed in a possibly pretentious facebook post, if you saw that) for the next few hours and furnished ideas with wikipedantic research. For you to make sense of it, you'd probably have to similarly supplement the ideas, I don't know if it's easy to follow because it's my own thoughts that I've already checked into. Anyways, just thought it might be interesting to you. It was for me. Merry Christmas. Whereas Proust's 'Time' is 3rd Om, this is 3rd Ltd. Subject: A perceptive person with proustian eye for detail, not only of present presentations, but precedences proliferating per processes that propagate current conditions, a kind of post- rather than pre-science. He could say/be "Lost in Finds," a condition conditional to his being found in loss. This omnipostscience doesn't remove him from the present, but from personability—people are interested in what he says and how he says it, but a passing interest, and no one follows him as they are preoccupied with leading their own lives. This is the conflict. Inner, Inter, World, resultant from the conflict of the world, people, himself. Conflict is paradoxically problematic. Conflict is given, omnipresent, but his resolution perpetuates it, forms new conflicts. The Curse of Consciousness, of course. Your job: to course his course, plot the points, each and every last one, {notice a pattern?} so that it can be followed linearly, which is funny, because it's not linear at all, it's a sine line (waves), a function fluctuating between simultaneous di-/con-vergent points (particles), inherently pluripotent, not only the function but also the points, because they are intersections of functions from (in?)finite origins, the origins themselves intersections—herein lies the problem: to know {scire} is to cut {scindere} from what isn't, but everything is. An etymological preclusion with ontological implications—to discern {separate} a cause from its effect eliminates the intrinsic connection. Motives are dependent variables upon their dependent actions and their dependent outcomes and their dependent reactions that produce dependent experiences of thought and emotion that the initial motive was dependent upon in origination—an origin/cause/effect is a supposed start of a silk web within the interconnected web that was constructed from the network of strings originally outside itself, tethered to the trees and waving in the breeze that grow up from and blow over the earth, respectively, a nonliving, life-sustaining entity resultant from interactions of larger entities composed of corporeal chemical agents, that {agein} as {organi} i.e. act as instruments, et do work, et work, et do, act: d ø â k t {â g , ô r g} because g , k are non pulmonic consonants (do not obstruct airflow) produced by the dorsal (tongue, most centralized, adaptable) region, g is implosive, passive, velar ex. e/organum (tool, instrument), energy (noun) [* is non pulmonic palatal implosive, next step up], while k is ejective, active, velar ex. act (drive, lead), ägein/work* (verb) [*w is approximant— next step from vowels that produce no turbulence—which involve articulators (areas that produce sound ex. tongue, palate) approaching each other but not enough to produce turbulent airflow] and o , e are in the median vowel range of open-closedness (of the mouth) and front and back et 400-600hz frequency, the median frequency of base (low) vowel sounds, and e is also 2.2-2.6kHz, providing the greatest convergent vowel variation and the sound's likely origination of development, not to mention, though I will, biologically the most economical, primal, and in most ways centric expellation of sound. Thusly energy and work are the composed of the first, most fundamental sounds humans can produce, eject by w o r k , a k t ed out by internal implosions of e n e r j y , o r g a n s mirroring the "known", cut, separated, discerned origin of the universe, nuclear fission, an atomic implosion of energy ejected to do, work, act [b (nonpulmonic bilabial implosive) e (I, close front) i (I, close front) s (nonpulmonic alveolar fricative ejective) "I"/{I} is the resonance of outer openings unobstructing the flow of implosions and inner ejections channeled through narrow openings near the exterior.] SEE ALSO: { e g o } — I, self ; { g e u } — gheu->zeus(/jesus?)->deus--->god N.B. Energy, Work, I, God all from elemental utterances { e g } = able { g e / o } = act/-ed/-or Method, Too Much Madness 11/03/2011
The spacing of my poems is logical, but borders the fine line between method and madness. However, in these two poems I crossed that Rubicon line into madness. I attribute it to sleep deprivation and over-specification of overly broad themes; i.e. to say I tried to incorporate and interrelate too much too logically, leading to illogicality. I don't see myself completeing them, but I thought I'd share them anyways. The first, habibti, I wrote nearly two years ago, the night after I wrote my first four poems (eyes, shut your mouth and open your lips, what, and orange, chronologically respective). I had an outline of a dozen or more combinations of the same words forming different sentences all playing to the same ideas (some of them were included in shut your mouth), and this was my attempt at overtly texto-graphically combining them. It's unreadable without my outline as a map, and I still can't make all of it out. The second, conscience con science (how romantic), I penned about a month ago, as a reaction to my discovery in biology that science is fundamentally founded on nihilism, the current inequality gap (among other problems) widened by corporate greed, and my romantic feeling that our problems could be overcome just by a collective conscience. Without further ado, I give you my logical descents into madness:
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