in the arsehole of diogenes

NEO-HERACLITUS_____________Qweir Notions in the arsehole of Diogenes: weBlog of a septuagenarian Binge-thinker since February 2008.
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Sunday, 31 August 2014

It is barely believable

that this is what now passes for poetry in England:

"My boots
Are muddy
With words"

from a collection called  Earth Journey (2010)
by
Josephine Dickinson.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

It

The White People
are turning even paler with fear,
because it's not Washington, San Francisco,
Paris, London or even Moscow -
but Syria, Iraq and Jordan
Where It's At.

Though we should remember,
through our palely self-critical
hypocritical whines
about White Men's Interventions, John of Leiden -
and that there are many mullahs with male concubines.

Caitlín Ní h-Uallacháin alias An Sean-Bhan Bhocht*




If Ireland were a woman
better not sniff around Limerick
where they put the first ever
Duty-Free Airport;
and keep away from Belfast
looking backwards, spewing bile;
don't go near Rosslare's little arsehole
even if you're in denial.
Avoid also the Mullet
hanging flat and empty
and crushing little babies
with the milklessness of God.
They call that cruel island
'The auld Sod'.

 

Thursday, 28 August 2014

"Never write anything because it is true,

only because it is beautiful",
wrote Philip Larkin (to himself)
in his seventh Workbook. He was a dreary,
efficient, and much-honoured Man of the World
who also wrote one or two fine poems.

Old and definitely out of touch

Yesterday
I thought I would acquire some Institut Géographique Nationale
1:25,000 (or, if not, then 1:100,000
maps of France, as I thought I had done some years ago.
So I took a free-for-old-people bus to Belfast
to go to The Stationery Office, formerly
Her Majesty's Stationery Office.

What I found was a poky modern office in a depressing,
would-be-user-friendly 'Business Park'
and a helpful woman who told me that The Stationery Office,
privatised in 1996, moved from its attractive premises
in Arthur Street at least 10 years ago -

and of course, it was not French maps that I shoplifted there,
but the wonderful new 1:50,000 Irish ones
which mark almost all of the thousands of megaliths
in the Republic, the most attractive of which are also in my
Gazetteer and Field Guide to prehistoric Ireland,
which has a side-site of French megaliths.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

The beheading

of  Edmund Beaufort, 4th Duke of Somerset at Tewkesbury, 1471

























and after the Battle of Otranto in 1480.




There are, of course, even more dramatic and terrible forms of execution:

Execution by Elephant at Belgrade.

Society*

calls you, begs you, ingrate,
implores you, screams at you,
showers you with seductions,
whispers witty sarcasms to you,
but no, no, no, no, no -
do not integrate !

*bounteous, bourgeois filth

Once, long before I became holosensual,

I groped the great  Colin Turnbull
in an anthropologist-friend's
London flat.  He kindly brushed
my timid hand away. I should have known,
after going with him to nearby
Roman-style marbled, Victorian Turkish Baths,
that I would not be able to stand the African heat,
not even in the rain forest, where I met 'Pygmies'
but, sadly, only, briefly.

[more on Turkish Baths]
[Turkish Baths for the Working Classes in Ireland

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Cain and Abel

It is because the 'nuclear family' is so unnatural
that men form clubs and teams and gangs.
It is because the 'nuclear family' is so unnatural
and stressful that men form battalions
ensuring that humans are perpetually at war.

Monday, 25 August 2014

"Sex"

is very like cleaning the house.
You feel good for a short time afterwards.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

Apparently,

the filmed beheading
of an American (white) journalist
who chose  (and was paid) to venture
intrepidly into dangerous territory
to get good photographs
(of Jihadists ?  of misery ?  of corpses ?  of destruction ?)
is much more terrible and reprehensible
than the unfilmed deaths of many thousands
of brown people (not mentioning the dogs)
killed in white men's murderous misdirection.



Civilisation

Every civil war
from Ireland and Spain to Bosnia,
from the United States to Syria and Iraq,
demonstrates that friendship and neighbourliness
are nothing more
than mere conveniences, sloughed off almost
at a moment's notice of severe anxiety, hurled
to the ground and stamped upon, or else ignored.
And it is also true that the nothing about which
there is so much ado is, truly, nothing more
than the overpopulation of the world.

Saturday, 23 August 2014

Of cabbages and kings...
























What a waste of time (and money) is inedible Art !
[And has our 'progress' since palæolithic times
justified the 'progress' of 'art'
from pregnant-woman-dolls,
or from hand-prints on cave-walls ?]

' You had to have contact with other humans, he claimed, in order to get sick...'

The horrible thing about this story
is not just that in the USA
(and probably most countries in the world beyond Great Britain and the Republic of Ireland)
the police can threaten anyone - anytime for any reason or no reason - with a firearm,
but that this marvellous man was simply thrown into prison
in a "one size fits all" system of injustice.

Perhaps this is how the Neanderthals died out...


Friday, 22 August 2014

Achill Island



















On the upper slopes of this westernmost peninsula -
the ruins of prehistoric tombs.
Lower down - the mouldering ruins
of cottages abandoned in the 20th century,
and, lower down again - the brash bungalows
empty since the Celtic Tiger turned out
to have been made of cheapest paper.


Thursday, 21 August 2014

Better a sense of humour

than a sense of honour
- though perhaps both
can occasionally be accommodated
within a single mind.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Monday, 18 August 2014

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Forward to the Past.

A farmer in Surrey (England) has dug a ditch around his property to prevent vehicles driving over fields to steal vehicles and equipment.

In Lincolnshire, 150 sheep were rustled in a single nocturnal raid.

The most important Irish epic of the late Iron Age is the Táin Bó Cuailgne,
which is poorly translated as The Cattle Raid of Cooley.


Here is a picture of what remains of a farmstead of that time.
The cattle were brought into the circular stockade at night.

There are tens of thousands of these 'ringforts' all over Ireland, almost all visible from an aeroplane.


Ballinascaula, county Limerick

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Almost nobody

is undamaged by civilisation.
So many of us are destroyed
by our own disappointment.

The faint cartoons of happiness
flit behind the zombies.

A fun way to go

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euthanasia_Coaster
click to read about it





















(thanks, Karl)

Friday, 15 August 2014

Soul, Spirit, God, Religion, Labyrinth, Metaphors and Minotaurs.


Thesis
The immateriality of reason
can lead us irrationally to
the illusion of our own immateriality
beyond reality.

Metaphorical antithesis
The future has passed its sell-by date
We are just trapped passengers,
ticket-collectors, or firemen
- never engine-drivers -
on ghost-trains of wormy thought…

Synthesis
- Yours imagistically bruised by coal and scorched by fire,
and being nothing getting nowhere in a Yeatsian gyre.

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

"I will never create beings to suffer

as I am suffering."
- J.M. Synge

Angel Snow

was what he called his dandruff.
Masked contempt
was what he called easy friendliness.
Ah, 'the basest beggars
are in the poorest thing superfluous.'
"Do I enjoy life as a mollusc ? Almost,"
he said.

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

National Education Systems

were introduced as much to inculcate
national, ethnic and linguistic consciousness
(and domination)
as to teach the underclass to read
promulgations, notices and forms.

Thus many languages have been almost wiped out.

Individuals

are only intermittently
(even when often) criminals -
but nation-states are permanently
and increasingly criminal.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Marcus Aurelius

was a simple soul who tended to repeat himself:

Your happiness depends upon the quality of your thoughts.

Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself in your way of thinking.

Our life is what our thoughts make it.

The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.

The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.


And so on.  In other words: Think Positively.
Not exactly profound...  But he also wrote:


The best revenge is to be unlike the person who injured you.

Abandon your sense of injury and injury itself disappears.

If it is not right do not do it; if it is not true do not say it.

Abandon your sense of injury and injury itself will disappear.

There is no evil in nature.

The body and its parts are a river, the soul a dream and mist, life is warfare and a journey far from home, lasting reputation is oblivion.


and this (my favourite):

Death smiles at us all. Let us all smile back.

Sunday, 10 August 2014

Until clean piped water became widely available in the early 19th century

many people had only beer or ale to drink (or, of course, wine in southern Europe), which meant that until then, many people (especially in cities) were drunk much of the time.

This accounts for the subsequent:
Temperance movements,
and the surge of Western Europe into clear-eyed domination, empire, inventiveness, technology and capitalism.

It also led to social reform, including compulsory education in Germany, England and France,
which was not just to teach the illiterate to read (notices and forms) but, mainly, to inculcate aggressive nationalism.

Which, of course, led to World War I.

Saturday, 9 August 2014

Since we don't listen to each other,

the dead keep talking to the dead.
I think that Medusa's snakes
now writhe inside her head.

Good News from French Beaches

Female topless sunbathing
is no longer fashionable.
How long will it be before sunbathing
and beaches are no longer fashionable ?

Friday, 8 August 2014

A faint hope for the non-human world.

http://informationvilla.com/blog/2014/08/ebola-virus-pictures.html

to Everyman

So you think you can sell
a sob to a yell ?
So you think you can distinguish
'generate' from 'extinguish' ?

So you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell ?
Welcome, welcome
to the machine!

It's all right, we and it
know where you've been...
So you think you can sell
Heaven to Hell ?

Welcome, welcome...

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Just one of the problems

with a competitive society
(compared with all the others
which are, of course, uncompetitive)
is that the winners cheat.

Another is that there has to be
many hundreds of times more losers
than winners.

A third is that all goals
are childish and hence unsatisfying
for those who 'achieve' them.

Wednesday, 6 August 2014

When people discuss the dystopic tendencies

of modern pseudo-democracies,
dictatorships and semi-dictatorships,
and the ominous, continuing ground-swell
of collaboration in the various 'Wars on Terror',
it is never Kafka who is mentioned,
but Orwell.  This is an error.

Monday, 4 August 2014

Samuel Beckett's Best Poem

NEITHER

to and fro in shadow from inner to outer shadow

from impenetrable self to impenetrable unself
by way of neither

as between two lit refuges whose doors once
neared gently close, once away turned from
gently part again

beckoned back and forth and turned away

heedless of the way, intent on the one gleam
or the other

unheard footfalls only sound

till at last halt for good, absent for good
from self and other

then no sound

then gently light unfading on that unheeded
neither

unspeakable home

Sunday, 3 August 2014

On Planet Earth

Continuously
Until Further Notice
The Unstoppable
Futility Olympics

Click here for everlasting
Get Out of Life Free Offer
(conditions apply)


Saturday, 2 August 2014

Simplicitie without electricitie.

I hate vacuuming, especially
in corners and behind
furniture and under beds
- which is why I rarely do it.
But, could one ever be designed,
I would like a silent vacuum-cleaner
for my moth-filled, thought-choked mind.

'Give me simplicitie, that I may live.' - George Herbert.

Friday, 1 August 2014

All our wastefulness,

detritus, all our waste
is indicator and result
of failure by and of
our reason and imagination,
both trapped, both locked, ensnared
within their yearning,
spurning spiral,
neither capable of conceiving of
(much less permitting)
the soft liberty of baring
the beautiful and fitting
lightness of unlearning.