Howdy

Gone n done me some more sketching...

sheeet.. thar ya go.. last one supposed to be ol blue-eyes..

looks bit more like that kid from Skins...

Anyway.. pretty difficult business the old drawin.. 

but fun too..

Watched this today & found it hugely inspirational:

(bit of swedish subs for y'all.. 

the version I saw didn't have the voiceover..

hope it ain't too disturbin...)

Poem by Gregory Corso:

Friend

Friends be kept

Friends be gained

ANd even friends lost be friends regained

He had no foes he made them all into friends

A friend will die for you 

Acquaintances can never make friends

Some friends want to be everybody's friend

There are friends who take you away from friends

Friends believe in friendship with a vengeance!

Some friends always want to do you favors 

SOme always want to get NEAR you

You can't do this to me I'm your FRIEND

My friends said FDR

Let's be friends says the USSR

Old Scrooge knew a joy in a friendless Christmas

LEopold and Loeb planning in the night!

Et tu Brute

I have many friends yet sometimes I am nobody's friend

The majority of friends are male

Girls always prefer male friends

Friends know when you're troubled

It's what they crave for!

The bonds of friendship are not inseparable

Those who haven't any friends and want some are often

  creepy

Those who have friends and don't want them are doomed

Those who haven't any friends and don't want any are grand

Those who have friends and want them seem sadly human

Sometimes I scream Friends are bondage! A madness!

All a waste of INDIVIDUAL time -

Without friends life would be different not miserable

Does on need a friend in heaven -

Prophet goes:

Then said a teacher, Speak to us of Teaching.

And he said:

No man can reveal to you aught but that which

already lies half asleep in the dawning of your

knowledge.

The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple,

among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but

rather of his faith and his lovingness.

If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the

house of wisdom, but rather leads you to the 

threshold of your own mind.

The astronomer may speak to you of his

understanding of space, but he cannot give you his

understanding.

The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which

is in all space, but he cannot give you the ear which

arrests the rhythm, nor the voice that echoes it.

And he who is versed in the science of numbers can

tell of the regions of weight and measure, but he

cannot conduct you thither. 

For the vision of one man lends not its wings to

another man.

And even as each one of you stands alone in God's

knowledge, so must each one of you be alone in his

knowledge of God and in his understanding of the 

earth.

Blessins 

&

lovin

...c

BAM!

me been doin some sketchin... inspired in large parts by m'good dear buddy

Abey

tho I ain't nowhere NEAR his kungfu comics&portraits skills but I just thought I'd stick these up here nonetheless... 

(lil bit of Abe's letter in th background thar=) )

don't know who they "are".. just started on the eyes n took it from there..

last one spposed t be self portrait.. guess I ain't gonna be on the streets of, say, Paris paintin folks.. or if so then they gonna be goin home with a picture of some complete random person... coz at least I don' think I look much like the above but.. maybe on some crazy subconscious level it's how I'd like to look.. I don't know..

fuck it

=)

Found this tday:

http://www.googlepoetics.com

pretty cool..


Prophet goeth:

And a man said, Speak to us of Self-
Knowledge.

And he answered, saying:

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days
and the nights.

But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's 
knowledge.

You would know in words that which you have
always known in thought.

You would touch with your fingers the naked body
of your dreams.

And it is well you should.

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise
and run murmuring to the sea;

And the treasure of your infinite depths would be
revealed to your eyes.

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown
treasure;

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with
staff or sounding line. 

For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, ´I have found the truth,´ but rather, ´I have
found a truth.´

Say not, ´I have found the path of the soul.´Say
rather, ´I have met the soul walking upon my path.´

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow
like a reed.

The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless 
petals. 

be blessed n loved

...c

Early morn...


A swell piece from The Diary of Anais Nin's Vol.4 1944-47:

"I see myself and my life each day differently. What can I say? The facts lie. I have been Don Quixote, always creating a world of my own. I am all the women in the novels, yet still another not in the novels. It took me more than sixty diary volumes until now to tell about my life. Like Oscar Wilde I put only my art into my work and my genius into my life. My life is not possible to tell. I change every day, change my patterns, my concepts, my interpretations. I am a series of moods and sensations. I play a thousand roles. I weep when I find others play them for me. My real self is unknown. My work is merely an essence of this vast and deep adventure. I create a myth and a legend, a lie, a fairy tale, a magical world, and one that collapses every day and makes me feel like going the way of Virginia Woolf. I have tried to be not neurotic, not romantic, not destructive, but may be all of these in disguises.

It is impossible to make my portrait because of my mobility. I am not photogenic because of my mobility. Peace, serenity, and integration are unknown to me. My familiar climate is anxiety. I write as I breathe, naturally, flowingly, spontaneously, out of an overflow, not as a substitute for life. I am more interested in human beings than in writing, more interested in lovemaking than in writing, more interested in living than in writing. More interested in becoming a work of art than in creating one. I am more interesting than what I write. I am gifted in relationship above all things. I have no confidence in myself and great confidence in others. I need love more than food. I stumble and make errors, and often want to die. When I look most transparent is probably when I have just come out of the fire. I walk into the fire always, and come out more alive. All of which is not for Harper’s Bazaar.

I think life tragic, not comic, because I have no detachment. I have been guilty of idealization, guilty of everything except detachment. I am guilty of fabricating a world in which I can live and invite others to live in, but outside of that I cannot breathe. I am guilty of too serious, too grave living, but never of shallow living. I have lived in the depths. My first tragedy sent me to the bottom of the sea; I live in a submarine, and hardly ever come to the surface. I love costumes, the foam of aesthetics, noblesse oblige, and poetic writers. At fifteen I wanted to be Joan of Arc, and later, Don Quixote. I never awakened from my familiarity with mirages, and I will end probably in an opium den. None of that is suitable for Harper’s Bazaar.

I am apparently gentle, unstable, and full of pretenses. I will die a poet killed by the nonpoets, will renounce no dream, resign myself to no ugliness, accept nothing of the world but the one I made myself. I wrote, lived, loved like Don Quixote, and on the day of my death I will say: ‘Excuse me, it was all a dream,’ and by that time I may have found one who will say: ‘Not at all, it was true, absolutely true."

Some mo fridge pomes I found:

In Kauklahti 30.5.2010 (not wrote down who writ what this time round...)

                             Sleep in delirious keep

& spend little

honest life

...

I am a woman & my 

silent secret is a 

long surprise

...

smile 

talk every other mind 

like no child

...

too soon dark voice

never like a joke

...

open flower hears 

true comfort

between tear and coffee

...

you almost slowly

cry ideas 

then must

have

strong day

...

how about some 

easy warm people

...

better laugh if my 

favorite thing is friendship

...

stay mean but give more

support near man

...

give with trust 

good matter

and

think time

...

only she can share

relaxed sweet

safe

heart

Credits to Ems, me sis, me mum n meself...

Prophet goes:

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of

Pain.

And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses

your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its 

heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the 

daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem

less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,

even as you have always accepted the seasons that

pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the

winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within

you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy

in silence ad tranquility:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by 

the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has

been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has

moistened with His own sacred tears.

blessins

...c

Some o' the coolest shit me seen in a while:

Artist: Kay Nielsen

Pics from: http://www.brainpickings.org

Found via:

http://catswithoutdogs.blogspot.co.uk

in turn via the great and powerful:

http://nervousinacape.blogspot.fi

this would be inerestin t see:

Prophet:

And the priestess spoke again and said:

Speak to us of Reason and Passion.

And he answered, saying:

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which

your reason and your judgement wage war against

your passion and your appetite.

Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul,

that I might turn the discord and rivalry of your 

elements into oneness and melody.

But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the

peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements? 

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and

the sails of your seafaring soul.

If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you

can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill

in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and

passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own

destruction.

Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the

height of passion, that it may sing;

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your

passion may live through its own daily resurrection,

and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes. 

I would have your consider your judgement and your

appetite even as you would two loved guests in your

house. 

Surely you would not honour one guest above the

other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the

love and faith of both. 

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of

the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of 

distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say

in silence, ´God rests in reason.´

And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind

shakes the forest, and thunder and lighting

proclaim the majesty of the sky - then let your heart

say in awe, ´God moves in passion.´

And since you are the breath in God´s sphere, and a

leaf in God´s forest, you too should rest in reason

and move in passion. 

blessins

...c

been listenin to the above quite muchos...

n diggin this 

http://nowandthan.tumblr.com

sometimes together...

Abe is a wizard

http://nervousinacape.blogspot.fi

http://doodledaydream.blogspot.fi

& Ems is a wild poetess  full of magic

http://itsalltoday.blogspot.fi

Prophet:

And an orator said , Speak to us of

Freedom.

And he answered:

At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you

prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,

Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant

and praise him though he slays them.

Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of 

the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear

their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.

And my heart bled within me; for you can only be

free when even the desire of seeking freedom

becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to

speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfilment.

You shall be free indeed when your days are not

without a care nor your nights without a want and a

grief,

But rather when these things girdle your life and yet

you rise above them naked and unbound.

And how shall you rise beyond your days and

nights unless you break the chains which you at the

dawn of your understanding have fastened around

your noon hour?

In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest

of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun

and dazzle your eyes.

And what is it but fragments of your own self you

would discard that you may become free?

If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was

written with your own hand upon your own

forehead.

You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor

by washing the foreheads of your judges, though

you pour the sea upon them.

And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first

that his throne erected within you is destroyed.

For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud,

but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame

in their own pride?

And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has

been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you. 

And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that

fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the

feared.

Verily all things move within your being in constant

half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the

repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that

which you would escape.

These things move within you as lights and

shadows in pairs that cling.

And when the shadow fades and is no more, the

light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.

And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters

becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

be blessed 

...c