Life in a Kingdom of One...?

Blue Skies Again?

Head in the Clouds....

The Conquering Worm

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

- Edgar Allan Poe, "The Conqueror Worm" (1843)


...as for me, life goes on inside the whale. I won't dance the Marxist two-step or the global capitalist jig. Laissez-faire had captured my heart. There's a sense of calm at the heart of the vortex. ;)

Hello?

Light Speed

You can't be pure AND in love...

Bad Guys

Old California

Marcel Duchamp

Retro Noir

I summarized "The Stranger" a long time ago, with a remark I admit was highly paradoxical: 'In our society any man who does not weep at his mother's funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death.' I only meant that the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game.

-Camus, (January 1955)

Place Your Bets...

More on "the Bird Streets".

A Fool's Overture...

...reprised
History recalls how great the fall can be
While everybody's sleeping, the boats put out to sea
Borne on the wings of time
It seemed the answers were so easy to find
"To late," the prophets (profits) cry
The island's sinking, let's take to the sky

Called the man a fool, striped him of his pride
Everyone was laughing up until the day he died
And though the wound went deep
Still he's calling us out of our sleep
My friends, we're not alone
He waits in silence to lead us all home

So tell me that you find it hard to grow
Well I know, I know, I know
And you tell me that you've many seeds to sow
Well I know, I know, I know

Can you hear what I'm saying
Can you see the parts that I'm playing
"Holy Man, Rocker Man, Come on Queenie,
Joker Man, Spider Man, Blue Eyed Meanie"

So you found your solution
What will be your last contribution?
"Live it up, rip it up, why so lazy?
Give it out, dish it out, let's go crazy,
Yeah!"