Friday, December 25, 2009

Green Wave How To's!

http://www.instructables.com/id/VERTICAL-VEGETABLES-quotGrow-upquot-in-a-smal/

http://www.instructables.com/id/DIY-Solar-Panel/

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Turtles & Shit

The point I aim to make is there is no best way to understand consciousness; or that we will never truly be able to bridge the gap between the study of consciousness and what consciousness feels like, because all that we can deduce is from conscious experience, the creation of consciousness.
For example when analyzing cats, we know cats through our conscious and that is all, although we know ourselves as ourselves and as humans, although knowing the two are hard to distinguish at times.
I wrote a very long and extraneous explanation involving evolution; but I realized the only solidity in my claim was best expressed in a what I believe to be a wonderful little analogy; or perhaps even an allegory? It is as follows…
Ok so there’s a turtle, this turtle represents consciousness
It shits science, art, self awareness, logic, and value of all these things generally speaking
Now the turtle can only see itself as what it shits; if knowledge were completely composed of the senses, the turtle could not know itself fully, it could know its brown mushy, what its made of. But this turtle’s shit has more to it than senses, it knows how its reacting to it environment, and visa versa, through the science. it could make different shades of brown or manipulate the action and very essence of the shit through art, it could know it was only aware of itself as shit but that really it was a turtle through self awareness, and it would value its life as shit and would try to figure out eventually why it only saw itself as shit if its really a turtle, it would have meaning.
the shit would conceptualize, but it could never know itself as a turtle; because the shit can not conceptualize anything that’s not science art self awareness value fiction etc., basically nothing that’s not shit, because these things did not exist before the turtle shit them, it can theorize about whether the turtle and the shit are the same or different, or how much of its assumptions about it being a turtle and not really shit are correct, but it could never see itself as a turtle because to do so the turtle would have to encompass itself under science art self awareness and value, which it does not, only shit does.
So why can the shit sleep? Why can the shit suppose that the cat it sees with its senses is not a turtle but a cat, that also sees itself as cat shit respectively?
Well the shit can explain why it sleeps through science, because turtles need sleep even if shit doesn’t, and cats need sleep too so therefore it might see itself as shit to, but in reality the cat doesn’t shit science art self awareness and logic, it just shits. So everything the shit sees about the cat will always be purely theoretical because the shit forgot to mention that hes the one that came up with name for cat, and the word shit, with its logic and imagination, the cat doesn’t know itself as a cat, or as shit, it is something the shit defined with the particular capabilities the shit has.
So when the shit asks itself why it only sees shit when it knows there’s a turtle, he has the same problem in that he came up with the concept of a turtle, and the concept of shit and all that it implies, and therefore must settle with those terms and continue to understand the turtle through the shit; for no terms could make coherent sense of the turtle and shit, while knowing the turtle is this whole big thing; some of which has nothing to do with the shit; and this shit knows this, but only as shit, to the shit its lungs are shit its air is shit its gravity is shit its existence is shit, subjectively,but the shit cab accept that air is air and lungs are lungs to the turtle, and therefore the shit, and the shit theorizes the turtle was just trying to shit out the human it ate earlier that day; with no subjective experience paralleling the shit and no meaning science art logic or self awareness, because its only subjective experience is the shit. This does not mean the shit’s qualms with it really being a turtle are in vain, only that he must accept he that he can only deal with being as shit, and that that shit might have a whole lot more to say than what the turtles real unconscious ‘purposes’ are. This can be assumed as the turtle really doesn’t even have a concept of purpose, except for through its shit.
Perhaps someday the shit will know exactly how the turtle came to shit it, and it could theorize about why. But It will never know for sure, and it will also never make such a discovery consistent with its seeing itself as shit, unless it stopped seeing itself as shit, and would then ceased to be shit or turtle or both.
catch my drift?

Thunder in My Thorax

sitting on a park bench
and looking at you

your sentiment to suburbia
trucks through portraits
some Mary Poppin's phenomenon
and the tread of a displaced hipster
strutting greener grass and
white picket fences
magic markers that illustrate you

a color of rain
glides down your nape,
hypothalamic scribbles draw eye drapes

lashes protection
and your rubber kicks
parachutes your paradise
as the storm seeks
standing tall above the colors
a beacon drawing it closer
a man

the electric right
the stunner sensation
duality of weather
jolts your life
collapsed in rubber sneaks

the sheets of rain
the stain of riots
jolting a lie in ultraviolent strikes
you hear the eve's malevolence
'boil the sound until you melt mid wave'

quaking down college avenue
documenting catastrophe CAT scans
in fault lines of resolution

sitting on a park bench
and looking at you

How to Make Dye from Plants

Gather colorful flower blossoms when they are in full bloom, ripe berries, and mature nuts. Remember, never gather more than 2/3 of a stand of anything in the wild when gathering plant stuff for dying.

To make the dye solution:

Chop plant material into small pieces and place in a pot. Double the amount of water to plant material. If the pot is half full of plant material, then fill the pot with water. Bring to a boil, then simmer for about an hour. Strain. Now you can add your fabric to be dyed. For a stronger shade, allow material to soak in the dye overnight.

Getting the fabric ready for the dye bath:

You will have to soak the fabric in a color fixative before the dye process. This will make the color set in the fabric.

Official Patent Website: http://www.uspto.gov/web/patents/howtopat.htm


Color Fixatives:

Salt Fixative (for berry dyes) 1/2 cup salt to 8 cups cold water

Plant Fixatives (for plant dyes) 4 parts cold water to 1 part vinegar

Add fabric to the fixative and simmer for an hour. Rinse the material and squeeze out excess. Rinse in cool water until water runs clear.

Dye Bath: Place wet fabric in dye bath. Simmer together until desired color is obtained. The color of the fabric will be lighter when its dry. Also note that all dyed fabric should be laundered in cold water and separately.

Muslin, silk, cotton and wool work best for natural dyes and the lighter the fabric in color, the better. White or pastel colors work the best.

NOTE: It's best to use an old large pot as your dye vessel. Wear rubber gloves to handle the fabric that has been dyed, the dye can stain your hands. It's also important to note, some plant dyes may be toxic, check with the Poison Control Center if unsure

INFINITY


Infinity,
A dark corner, a monster under a bed
Or a life form, a magic number and some beyond the dead.
Knowing you know you don’t know.

Trickling the synapses
I find the synapses
Intricately weaving
A chair upon which two lovers slept
They dreamt of peacocks with colored contacts
Attracting a mate
And watched semantics circuiting the
Tweed of cultural traits

Beneath it lies a dog in slumber
Skouras relieving
As it escapes within the wooly mare
Tar black, warming the nightmare
Of an outer galactic Mexican, perforating teething children
2 palpations from diseased needles
3 evolve to
5
Places Grandfather’s ashes were spread.

Knowing the fear of knowing what you know you don’t know.

Orkidney


Gracing the dead end
stationary gusts encircling
the quiver of post traumatic cigarettes
After burning her brain
taking roll cry of course wept
liquidating my dust and ashes
I check emotions off my tarnished transcript
time lost to records of my beloved friendships
reigniting drowning in our chest
as melting perceptions
like seltzer tablets in a bird's breast.
collapsing into our repetition, concave
precise thrift store words
gasping away resentment's cremation.

Receiving ice
cream, weights lifted with innate muscle
honesty, precipitating our facial fortification
aroused in sad peace
I write of Orchids that are no longer flowers
-By Grace Byrne

East Coast Regional Burning Man

There’s just so much it’s going to take me a very long time to write it all down, such as the odd sensation that something vulgar was happening to me and I loved it. I don’t know if there’s any way to describe this experience but I want to try as hard as I can to get there.
I know the history of these worlds of words will be proven irrelevant to everyone but those who wish to slip in to this seventy six hour idea. This whimsy lacks the fear of overdose, skin cancer, STDs, working the next week, fucking your brain with fire like a bunny on Christmas.
You can just imagine dealing with the societal rejection of attempting to shave half your head with a lightning bolt, stealing a golf cart, participating in a 20 person cuddle puddle, torching poi, and gliding on a naked slip and slide in 24 hours.
Now imagine questioning the normality of it.
“If there is an echo let it be that it reappears as the worlds reminder of yourself"
I have lost all boundary, to poor screen filler on my head and cover it up with photographs of a British performance artist and fake roses cultivating personalized cults was self aware in retrospect.
The heroin hobbies fought in my brain for a position of superman horseback riding.
“There is no hostile for emotionally refined.”
I have gone beyond a collection of asinine stories whose subtlety denies dilating intensity.
I have unraveled from a magnificent melding of the externalized thickets of our personalities.
It was is and will be on a roof top with no house to define its exposition of welcoming isolation.
A state of fire burns the fuse of life, watches hearts flicker in violent, beautiful, sparingly bold patterns defying everything we can‘t remember.
Follow the elevator shaft up to this seventy six hour idea, watch it dangle from chains and rope into my arms for this Tim Burton walk off.
Now there is a mirror awash with cracks, the rainbow tinted magnifiers,
these glasses of toxins envisioning my enamored relationship
With this seventy six hour idea.
Then there was no analogy.
“Our brain’s can’t comprehend the stars, infinity, so they’re like ‘fuck it, it’s pinholes in paper!’
The saddest goodbye scarred across my back in a variety of map patterns.
To a buried treasure lies within that seventy six hour dried lake bed of fire.

Your John Handcock Anatomically

Energy Signatures

Are all days passing slowing leaving
Affecting seemingly only longingly
Of words only known
A John Handcock of the secret language we’ve sown.
Thrust into gravity the clockwork twists
Cumulating with water Acidic
Fleeting as the retrospective destiny
The 25 cents more a withered tweed chap
With a cabaret whore
Hell en Isma Valore
She signs across iced over door
God closed
Us enthusiasts of spontaneity
Pried with our momentary blindness
The window not really,
A magnifying class,
For each apple nutrients
Binding to proverbial make up.
For each word we hear
Intestines,
Writing stomach into mime
Of emotions home grown
Spoken to the mind of our assessor unknown
Signed by the icing quilt
Of lives hardly shown

LIKE DICK?




Breathe

http://www.megaupload.com/es/?d=ZF1HW5Z2

Race Relations

The sentences choked in thought
A word, why is that word? Our
Dams have broken, our
Furious questions, fists in fire beating a burn, our
Room never so resilient, to all our
Floods through our
Lids, asking us to vomit our
Words in the fire of liquid birth, our
Crinkling foreheads, like levis in a hurricane, pushing against our
Words pushing against our
Thoughts pushing against our
Us, then
With a glance around our room
Within each of these words bloom
A human
And our muscles our flood

Goodbye Live

Goodbye Live
A flashback film can’t record
Nor lens focus this bittersweet haze of choice
Nor zoom infinitely mirror me mirror my home
Choosing not the pregnancies, deaths, stress or arrests
only the absence that I want to become

When we were dolled up in retrograde red in fall rain
Like strawberry shortcake feeding ash trays
Introducing arrays of five minute introductions
Delving onto rooftops for visions’
views of sailboats to dream machines mining sexuality
For faces in the care of antiquity
Numbered in hits speedometers street names and rock radio
Forgetting little words we understood unraveling
Our Pennsylvanian pastures like yellow dashing our laughter
A stillness passing through Independent lights
Closing in on our valley’s echoes
Trumpeting our uncovered scenery,
Down in back alley head shops with their roller blade queens
Shot guns, mustard Nazis, and all of our taboo
Carelessly knowing its oppression isn’t true
All lying on the other like trampolines
Our bellies radiating insomnia cookies, trunks of Krispy Crèmes, and the beating stick of Austrian cuisine
Festering in apartments before we old friends knew

my goodbye
this poetry roped like the soul of a photograph
to my absorbingly rapid eyes
Opening upon a dark room in which negatives lie
Now, stolen by its own reception

My Fucking Paper

Final Paper
Philosophy of Literature in Western Culture
By Grace Byrne
The basis of this thesis is that dreams are a central commonality between lightness and heaviness as presented by Milan Kundera‘s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. This commonality is explored through the compatibility of dreams with reality and its corresponding effect on weight. Lukacs’ Theory of the Novel expands upon this effect by showing the pervasiveness of dreams in all literature.
The 6th century philosopher Parmenides that Kundera questions in the beginning of The Unbearable Lightness of Being believed that nothing could come of nothing. I interpret this nothing in the context of Kundera‘s novel to mean that any sense of meaning is reliant on its realization of reality. In Kundera’s novel the alternative to reality is nothing, and nothing is a dream. In other words Parmenides was saying dreaming leads to dreams and nothing else, so we should focus on reality.
For the purposes of this paper dreaming is meaning embodied in metaphors, unrealized futures and pasts, dreaming in sleep, and creating hypothetical scenarios. While exploring the notion of dreams with specific examples it becomes difficult to distinguish when meaning is drawn by reality and drawn by dreams. Kundera seemed to understand this on a surface level but never reconciled with it in The Unbearable Lightness of Being except for to pose the problem with a series of stories.
Dreaming brings life out of any momentary emotion, and into the depth upon which meaning is based. The relationships within the Unbearable Lightness of Being illustrate this through it characters and its’ very existence. These stories question the bond between reality and dreams, and therefore our relationships to meaning in lightness or heaviness.
Lightness was Parmenides intended view point in effect. It’s a detachment from any overarching meaning where there is no one meaning or significance to events. Lightness in Kundera’s terms came from the singularity of a moment, because at any given time we can only make one choice with no true point of comparison. Therefore there is no destiny that can be known or necessity to any one particular choice. This sense of realism was embodied in Thomas’ character.
Womanizing is the most prominent example of his tendency toward lightness. He’s always sleeping with women, and never wants to feel tied to them with any emotional responsibility. As a result, in the beginning of the book he had refused to even fall asleep next to any women for the past nine years. Before Tereza there was no necessity to be in love with the women he was romantically involved with, because it would place importance on his relationship with one woman. A relationship with one woman would require a hypothetical notion that she was above all other options. For Thomas to fall asleep next to a woman would have been granting her the intimacy of dreams. To be in love would be to have placed meaning in dreams, and to Thomas reality wasn’t made of dreams.
Kundera believed heaviness in contrast to be a sense of external meaning and attachment. A heavy person has no coincidences, everything has the capability to unlock their destiny. Meaning is dealt with as if preordained. Thomas’ wife Tereza’s had a relationship to meaning that was generally heavy and burdened. For example she reacted to all of the events that lead up to her and Tomas’s relationship as if destiny had exposed itself to her rather than chance, a belief that was thoroughly embedded in dreams.
Many of the characters in this novel who exhibited heavy behaviors were shown as unaware or cumbersome for their capacity to have dreams effect their reality. Kundera portrayed through these characters that this mindset which is generally indicative of over sentimentality often leads to escapism or the ‘the stopover between being and oblivion.’ Kundera called the characters of Franz and Simon the dreamers because of their inconsequential determination to give their experiences underlying meaning.
Later in the book there is a chapter dedicated to Tereza‘s dream sequences in her sleep, and how she interpreted them as significant in her relationship with Thomas. This chapter interweaves reality with dreams to the extent that the reader often confuses their interpretation of the reading. As I experienced this confusion and insanity I began to wonder if a light person really must become heavy to love, and if Tereza’s insanity was inevitable because of her weight. If everything tends towards confusion with weight, is the confusion of dreams indicative of weight? If this is the case, and Parmenides was right to think that dreams lead only to dreams how can one know when one is dreaming?
Dreams are not always clear cut or avoidable. I will take an example of dreaming in the midst of the lightness of Thomas. In the fourth chapter of The Unbearable Lightness of Being Kundera described Thomas’s metaphor for Tereza. This was the first sign of Thomas’s ability to be heavy within his own lightness. He thought of her as a cradle that had come to him on a river bed like the baby Moses. This metaphor was classified as dangerous by Kundera, I believe because it was heaviness camouflaged in a dream. Imagining Tereza in the way that he did led Thomas to envision a future. ‘What if Moses had never been rescued?’ he had thought to himself, in other words, ‘What if I’m missing out on the love of my life?’ This was supposing a certain destiny to his relationship with Tereza, and this metaphor becomes a reality as it brings him closer to her. This occurs directly before and after he so lightly accepts that he has no point of comparison for his decisions. If dreams are inconsequential as Parmenides stated and Kundera pondered, than how is it that a light person like Thomas may have a dream which leads him to the realization of that dream in reality? If dreams and reality are so clearly undefined, can there be a light dream?
Thomas eventually did realize the opportunity of lightness within his dreams, “Only from the perspective of such a utopia is it possible to use the concepts of pessimism and optimism with full justification: an optimist is someone who thinks that on planet number five the history of mankind will be less bloody. A pessimist is one who thinks otherwise.” This was Thomas’ take on Nietzsche’s eternal return in which every decision and choice that is made is repeated again and again forever. It is a hypothetical theory, a dream that Kundera perceived as adding heaviness to everything because of the destiny to fulfill itself. For Thomas however it seemed that decisions on these other planets have the option of being changed as circumstances are repeated. As each planet was contemplated there wasn’t a sense of a destiny, only a knowledge of previous choices that gives his dream the same freedom of options his life has. The meaning in this vision of the future was held in his recognition that in order to even justify hopes or lack there of it is necessary to dream. All dreams can therefore be a justification to not only be positive or negative but also heavy or light. These dreams are necessity for someone as light as Thomas to maintain a vision of the future or sense of direction towards wants without believing it will occur in accordance with destiny.
The will to maintain lightness over a prolonged period of time is a vision of the future with meaning and is therefore in itself a dream. It is a dream that becomes attached to its subject in a very similar respect to the dreams which ensue a heavy relationship to meaning.
If dreams are then not strictly heavy, what factors of a situation distinguish a light dream from a heavy dream, and what are the effects of these on weight? The difficulty demonstrated in subjectively recognizing dreams as dreams in specific circumstances means that these distinguishing factors can not be identified in the intent of the dream or the dream itself.
The differences between heavy dreams and light dreams must be founded instead in the opposing reactions to these dreams that exposes the person’s relationship to meaning. The lighter person will more easily excuse their dreams when their meaning is betrayed by circumstance. The heavier person will not easily let go but they will dream with the attachment of destiny.
Thomas was a constantly coping with the detachment of the lightness in his dreams. He thought of whether or not to do the right thing, such as when he sat staring at the court yard wall again and again. Each time he found himself thinking that life is light, that there is no other logical choice. He was bound to this idea more so than to many ideas of what he believed ‘must be.’ Despite this belief, throughout the novel he lightly lost his lightness in order to heavily dream with heaviness. Eventually he found heaviness in his relationship with Tereza that confounded all will to be light. Thomas did so because each potential life he dreamt of was filled with the detachment that grants its release.
Each time this release occurs there is an opportunity to become heavy. To become heavy Thomas gave his dreams the attachment that guarantees they will last even when confronted by the lightness he believed must be. He did so for the first time with the metaphor of Tereza as the baby Moses, and eventually came to realize that what appeared as a metaphor had become a reality.
This attachment is what led Franz to his untimely death as he saw Sabina’s imaginary eyes upon him. It is also what led Franz’s wife to place ‘A Return after Long Wonderings’ upon Franz’s gravestone, and for Simon to search for his father relentlessly.
Conversely, Sabina’s dreams of her lightness after death were manifest in her wanting her body to be turned to ashes. It was the only dream that Sabina allowed to last because although death is a certainty, she could react to her dreams of death with detachment. With no vision except for lightness sustainable, she escaped her whole identity. Her dream of lightness became for her what Franz’s escape into the kitsch was for him. They escaped each other in their dreams. Franz’s dream ended in a tomb stone, Sabina’s dream in ashes.
Parmenides belief that nothing leads to nothing is now contradicted. One can not presume to know something doesn’t exist, because if something can’t be known through existence, nothing can be known of it, including whether it exists, so the certainty of Parmenides quote is unjustified. If this nothing is a dream, then the effects of dreams on both lightness and heaviness have equal potential.
All of the examples I have given thus far of the relation between dreaming and weight have been through characters’ stories in The Unbearable Lightness of Being. To truly grasp the pervasiveness of dreaming, these concepts can be reintroduced through the lens of Lucak’s Theory of the Novel.
In order to further illuminate the way in which the dreams of Kundera’s plots can be understood, it is necessary to ground these concepts within a broader context of literature. Lightness and heaviness relate to novels and epics respectively in literature. According to Lucaks, the aim of a novel is to have the reader feel or identify with the characters while simultaneously freeing the reader from the characters’ world. Similarly, the aim of a light person is to feel and identify with the individual even though they are free of attachments to others. If one is light they will believe in individuality and inconsistency the same way the novel appeals to a detached and consequently diverse audience. Conversely, an epic is heavy in the same way a person can be heavy by attaching idealizations of people and circumstances to scenarios that have a definitive meaning. If one is heavy they will believe in sustaining this meaning even when circumstantial evidence suggests otherwise , much like the epic hero does, and thereby appealing to a conformed audience.
The novel has the difficulty of not offering some large resolve for the reader who wants to search for some large ideal, and the epic has the difficulty of too much weight and a failure to acknowledge the lack of consistency in reality, like the dreams which so over took the heaviness in this novel.
Since dreaming is the commonality between heaviness and lightness, this is also true of novels and epics. Characters represent the potential weight of dreams, and literature is the externalization of these dreams. The closer a dream comes to reality, the more attachment it ill be granted because it is bound and covered in a recognition of itself as a dream. Kundera chose to do so with a book that has a disdain for dreaming. This paradox gives the book an attachment to be detached within those who are heavy or light.

The question that this raises Kundera illustrates beautifully, “Characters are not born like people, of woman; they are born of a situation, a sentence, a metaphor containing in a nutshell a basic human possibility that the author thinks no one else has discovered or said something essential about.” This statement is followed by one of the most pertinent questions which illuminates the dreams in lightness and heaviness, “But isn’t it true that an author can write only about himself?”