Poems, shards, fragments, prose, experiments
https://www.ap-arts.be/en/research/so-prettly-prattly-pollylogue-james-joyce-and-art-eng
“The poster for Bloomsday event in Antwerp. To attend the Saturday happening register separately asap, via the conference email: joyce2018@uantwerpen.be
The charge for the whole day is 10 Euro which includes food and drinks.”
War Business?
get a good education from your nation want to win all, and leave competition to annihilation? Business as war and war as business, into battle, into rivalry with your laws of mischief. For the win, the last man or women standing to have beat all the others, even sisters and brothers, to watch them squirm in a looser booze life, to show them who’s the boss. To have no thought for the loss. The majority are beat down. Beat down, and yet still breathing some how. So singing and dancing, working and working and dying of dichotomy. Dying a looser in a war competition. But with everything at stake, life itself business war-machine stealing food off the shelf,
how lucky and fortunate the 1st world countries are, with lawyers and bankers and sales and PR Sell a bomb, sell a man, sell a story, fuck it, limerick bro. Fair?
…what does it all mean?
…watch out kid, watch yer’ back, keep it on point. Wobble, but come back to your center. Make it count, everything counts. All our days are numbered, and littered with the lettered. Let us play. rewind, forward, future calling, humming your song, calling, singing, shouting you. Oi, listen, look, read, engage with me, these thoughts, those days and weeks, years flowing on, all remembered in this, the moment of come and go. A jig before the drilling, a swig before the shelling. Oh, the shelling, the mourning and the morning, the nights of sean and of shem, of Alice and Molly. All of our night if we want them, do you want it? have to be headstrong for revelations, for transformation, translation, change.
Do you want change, or status quo? young or old, conservative or liberal, break out. Bust loose. Get out from under the boot and toot your toot. Time is running out, the sand falls, the planet spins, seasons change, birds chatter and call, bears road, crickets rub theIR lil’ legs together, wolves howl and howl, can you hear them? do you hear the calling? the pipes of old, the ocean and wind and flames and tectonic plates grinding, pushing and pulling, tidal waltz. This energy boosts the boots, to get out and walk, face the rain and cold. get up, get out, Stand, shout, dance, sing. This is the time for humans to be human and walk, talk, laugh and move. Now.
On the island, the tension builds in cycles, resolving and catching up with each other, falling and rising together at once, hope and fear, spiralling out, truth and lies, beauty and the ugly spun into threads, moving through the dawn branches of the trees, the silhouette of a city falls away, the sun bursting through the smoke and haze, the noise of traffic lost in the music of branches, leaves, grass and bird song. The force stronger the further away one gets from the bank, the earth and soil greet the feet like royalty, the mystery builds, flowers bloom and die, fungus creeps, night and day pass, the twilight and mi-light, the Toa and the sung from the dung, the Witch elm and the sheep song, the monolith and the megalith, the stone, the page and the hieroglyph. Descending underground.
Facing facades, haunting sleep people, shades and blotches of men, women, pets, objects, connected by a force including Tesla and Einstein. Mad scientists and visionary artists, skipping down the lanes, through the blooms and blossoms, wind in hair, hand on heart, flute and cello, oboe and turntable darting through the body, across the moors, up out the clouds, into outer space, back to the mantle, the waves, the deep sea sinkholes and as yet undiscovered caves. The arctic tundra, the desert hot songs of rivers lost to man, to the unseen pathways cut by ants and clever rodents, to the homing pigeon, dolphin sonar and tardigrade I raise my hat. Signed, sealed delivered I’m yours, most earnestly, Steven Pratt. Trumpets and French horn fade out to repeating theme. Time, love, family, action. truth beauty, health, satisfaction. Fiction, narrative, justice, language, hope, dope, divinity, clarity.
On closing, all channels are open. International, all beings, spirits, demons, angels and entities. Land close by, I’ll see you good. No need to sweat it, take it easy, let the intuition guide the ladder and the slide, snakes, take a ride. Ups and downs all the way, left-brain, right brain let the sea sway the river bank pay. Rudderless, fearless, the boat powers on, land after land, island after island, in service of harmony, fuck the money, I want life. I want truth and heart, shared resources, good sources, well meaning folk. From every inch of this cosmic yolk, for this place I bow and give thanks, I wish I could change war tanks into fish tanks. I want to turn guns into walking sticks, bombs into gardens, chemical weapons into clean drinking water. With the help of new technology the world can evolve into an artists paradise, where goats play jazz and we visit art openings in the forest by mice.
Oh, Akhnaton, Ankh, what Egyptian deities drift about my pipe? in the book, under the stairs, in your stares, in these tales, the psycho tempo, the stabbing and double bass violin wounds, nearly horror but then mystery and wonder, moving arpeggios, across scale, through the woods. Into the forest, out the burrow, running, away from the city, blinded by human glutton, leaping against the urban lights, darting past trunks and over barbed wire fences, sweating and striding further out toward the moon, jumping higher, as if pursued by demons with chattering teeth, always just a hair’s whisker behind, our dream hero streams away, the sun rises, the corn fields glow golden, the water can be heard trickling ahead, the birds sing a familiar song again, the pipes lead the low hero home, tuba and french horn greet the intrepid tripperdome. Resolve, dinner, kick off the slippers. Open are the double doors, stars streak in. Open, unlocked, soothing nectar dripping off the spoon. Can I lick it? let freedom reign and ring.
Flies, can you believe it. octopi and mosses gather, in chorus. An uprising, a tidal movement. pollen on the air. Spores. Oh, my. How they do connect underground. Naturally, blooming. Continents collide, stars fizzle, we breath and find a way out. Out and over around, through, off. My head buried in natural sands of Tulum, under the water with crocodiles, away in the canopy, deaf from the relentless marching bands of New orleans, the elephants and lost rhino, oh, the damage done. Capitalism. Oh, oh, the news, the toxic opposite of just an innocent puddle, of any way out of the muddle, the murk, the constant bickering of the berserk, the loons, all knowing folk of two moons, abuse of the language, coercion, sewing of hate, divide, the split, the shit of it all. Forget that. The bee is trying to tell me, trying to get through to my thick skull, time is tight, maybe this, maybe tonight? to wrap up, rhyme up, post up, post it. Go on. Fish my bike out the canal, save a mystery.
–Steve Fly
Amsterdam, 02.44 A.M. Saturday 19th May, 2018.
…name, address, DOB, occupation, media habits
predict what, and how accurately?
how to measure coercion
how to measure manipulation
how to measure prediction?
Claude Shannon’s Information theory, or
Von Neumann and Morgenstern’s Theory
Of Games, perhaps?
How to measure the degree to which an ad’
can influence human behaviour
voting habits, foreign policy, thoughts about sex?
how to measure critical thinking
the measure of humanity, of altruism
how do we measure benevolence and
what of truth and beauty
what about culpability?
what is the measure of a man?
A hierarchy of values could help us begin
to distinguish one from the other
but how, how how to measure unity?
what about limits
if everything is connected
is nothing connected too?
How to measure bad faith,
how to describe the conspiracy of big data robbers
spies and politicians?
just business as usual living in the free market world
of competitive capitalism
how can I describe such complexity,
such an absurdly impossible action?
Let me tie up your boot lace mate…
take you through each hoop
ride the snake-lace and prepare for the
bootstrapping of Cambridge Analytica
Through the first hoop, SCL USA Limited
incorporated in London, Canary Wharf, 2015
2016 changed its name to Cambridge Analytica
a time bomb about to explode
Alexander Nix and his roller-deck of spies begin
Through the next hoop of Robert Mercer
hedge fund conservative, part owner of CA
And on through the Ted Cruz campaign hoop
the Steve Bannon hoop
the Donald Trump campaign hoop and
the LEAVE.EU campaign hoop
C.A snakes its way up the boot
the stench of rotten feet managed by
the socks of corporate owned media
(Thank Goodness for the independent
journalism of Carole Cadwalladr at the Guardian)
And straight through the Mark Zuckenburg hoop
and the facebook hoop
picking up 50 Million
profiles and farming the data for the worst
possible use: political gain
weaponised behavioural dynamics
and through another hoop, Canadian data-robbers
AggregateIQ
Humans treated like cattle-data-fodder
Oxford Eton Cambridge Analytica, burp!
and a divisive strategy to divide and conquer
Brexit Trump Trump Brexit, some say the two
most destructive tragedies of the 21st century
enabled by conservatives such as
Aleksandr Kogan, Roger Gabb, Richard Mercer,
Sir Geoffrey Pattie, Steve Bannon, Lord Marland, Julian Wheatland
Donald Trump, Vincent Tchenguiz, Nigel Farage
Chris Wylie, Mark Zuckenburg?
who the stooges and who the architects?
culpability?
the CIA MI5 KGB Mossad alliance, oh my.
The boot is fully strapped up, the foot inside
is dead
The laces are no longer laces but tentacles
the shoe is the body of an octopus.
Threaded tentacles act like laces.
In Cambridge Analytica we have a
new Octopus for all to see.
A slimy conspiracy with many tentacles
reaching to the usual con. suspects
spies, politicians, intelligence agencies
big-data companies.
Let us tie up the tentacles and starve the
octopus of oxygen, contain it before it crawls up our legs
and, like a deleted scene from Alien,
gets up inside us via any available orifice
Cambridge Analytica seems to love arseholes.
I apologise to all Octopuses worldwide for defamation of character
in my analogy to the devilish global conspiracy
that is Cambridge Analytica and their clients.
Shamebridge Analytica
May you choke on your own entropy
strangle yourself with competitive hoarding
and go mad with greed and monopoly.
Some Links of Interest:
https://www.theguardian.com/profile/carolecadwalladr
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theory_of_Games_and_Economic_Behavior
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cambridge_Analytica
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Information_theory
Friends, wake up and smell the trough
If you want to see photos of my lunch
and scoff
at examples of how fortunate I am
and extreme narcissism,
please add a turd icon in the comments below
to illustrate that you want me in your deadly
newly contaminated horseshitbook
feed. This post is like a toxic turd
I will no longer call you facebook
you act like an advanced A.I but exhibit
critical errors and floors in your prime
directives
you seem to play dumb
and act ignorant
displaying your obsession with
shopping habits
voting habits
all under the guise of
“seeing more posts from your friends”
you have ushered in a new business model
to the benefit of the few, the same old boys
those giant international corporations
atoms oil mafia and news
those with all the capital to pay for views
and publishing contracts
and an army of lawyers
Do you still collaborate with
Cambridge Analytica and all those dodgy
spy agencies
Are you still selling all
our fucking data?
I don’t want the new Trojan business algorithm
to shut you, dear friend, out of my frothing face-feeding trough
nom nom nom
so please leave a flower at the bus stop
take a walk outside let sunlight burn onto your brain
stop comparing yourself and your life
with that of others
let the D-wave quantum computing A.I bot know
without a shadow of doubt that
you want me,
you neeeeed me in your feeding trough
nom nom nom
Tell the A.I you want my rants
and music and books pictures
perhaps we should make testimonials to our friends
what makes you human? what makes facebook alien?
Here’s an idea, represent each of your 26 assigned friends
with a letter of the alphabet A-Z
now make a note of the order in which the posts appear
apply cabalistic logic and artistic creative force to the letters
Show the A.I who’s boss
Choose life
Choose a job
Choose a career
Choose a family
Try and choose face-friends to compare
yourself with
choose good looking friends?
politically oppositional friends?
choose friends with your genes and fuck the rest?
Facebook A.I,
I think you have initiated WOPR & Skynet, or the social equivalent
Your programers and staff and backers will face an eternity of
torture at the merciless hypercomputable hands of
digital karmageddon, or Blowbackfacebook.
An Algorithm for Profit
Facebook…
get off it.
Eyes down to the paper
fold in a gentle slope from left to right to
cradle the sacrament,
the angle of the sloping fold
proportional to the final cone shape
arrange the sacrament with slightly more at left
or right reversing instruction
take the paper between
thumb and forefinger and index finger
now gently roll the mixture
as if testing the consistency
of a bogie put joint down
prepare a filter tip by rolling up the
paper tightly and fitting into the smaller end
roll between fingers again
carefully fit the bottom of the paper near your thumbs
over the sacrament running plush with the other
side of the paper
roll up the joint pausing to lick the glue
tap the joint on a hard surface tip down
twist the loose paper at the top
lightly inhale
–Steven Pratt
Amsterdam, 2014.
The Happy Termineater & the T4Q-Batter-Bit System
By John Connor a.k.a The Quark Whisperer.
JC Ltd. wish to see architects of deep fried learning on every corner
The cutting wedge, a multiverse of 2D bread and 3B Butter.
JC mechanics specialize in control of various
Frying parameters by applying force,
To cool the fat and create optimum Q-batter-bit conditions
Peer-reviewed potato peeling principles published daily
and some intelligence machine arm scoopers
to serve a battered message:
cyberdyne in class.
What is the portion, or minimum quanta of chip?
How many patatoes fit within the frynet system?
The teeny weeny angel or smallest of
micro-demon imaginable: our holy
JC Qbit Better Batter Bits.
Control the flow of electrons in the background
microwave in the back kitchen and
we always D-Wave our mushy peas to make
Jumbo Pea Wave servings. Rejoice!
Like a photon is a quanta of light, we show that chips
can be viewed like a quanta of potato
and trillions can breakdance
on the head of a pea
Fried theology for cod’s sake
quantum to mean any physical entity under
observation, an all-seeing eye of cod or
imagine a giant Roe rowing a boat
to shore with a dude named Michael inside
Every atom molecule and material nugget
obeys the rule of our great cod almighty
praise cod
Q-Batter bits can be used for logistical potato counts
cod breaking, and a batter understanding of
deep learning fission fryers
The Aliens love batter-bits
Holy mackerel, yes, at JC we know our plaice
in the frynet story
Oily creators of order, your order
the master builders of quantum fission chips
and mushy peas-wave after wave after wave.
Quantum Mechanics at the chip-shop
invoke and evoke entities of the smallest unit
symbolic manipulation
too cheesy chips for you mate?
Q-batter-bits are beyond binary bro
maltiple choice and such crazy combinations
maybe states of particles in a Maybe state.
Flavour diffusions and quiver of chip tunneling
now we’re talking superposition of flavours
like one, or zero, versus the tantalising one & zero both
like peas or gravy on your chips, but also the
peas & gravy together. Like laser beans
We aim to please.
More than a single state tasted simultaneously
beyond the two-valued logic of sweet & sour
JC chip shops are entangled
like a confused haddock on a superstring
observe one haddock and know about the
other haddock too
entangled angels
caught at weird angles like mini
salmon jumping
JC offers simultaneous haddock annealing
maybe fancy a state and kidney pi?
we’ve bread roll and spin angling to catch
fission chips by the buttie
Our frynet baited with 23 triliion
Tetraflipin’ Q-batter-bit bites
gated pickled onion security layer
G-wave gravy control, we got it all.
The hungry Quantummy split P-wave
tends toward minimum microwave/frynet states
because minimum knows best
imagine a very small mum
mother matrix most mysterious singing out:
“The M-wave likes the P-wave
to surf the D-wave now behave”
If you can’t control the cooling,
you can still model its behaviour
expressed as an energy minimisation
in short: always a really nice and hot bag of chips
Grover’s algorithm runs the ketchup dispenser
Google sauce runs out the freaking tap
several D-wave systems are out back
with the gate based stocks
here in the front it’s annealing stuff
we’re actually approaching quantum supremacy
The Jason Bourne of A.I:
Q-Batter-Bits
Using the fat gates method
our research team found that
microsoft chips squashed to readily under pressure
with only a few small fission top
JC Chip Shops support the minimum
energy state
laser beans on holy wafer, a toast!
We have all the best chips and the
hottest chips
The holy JC breadboard boasts
23 Trillion unique gated Q-Battered-Bits
And one elctrfied, pickled egg.
Try our super cooled drinks, tango, coke, 7Up
stored near the temperature that atoms
stop moving
More than one pi-state can be tasted simultaneously
beyond the two-valued logic of sweet & sour.
JC chip shops are entangled
like a confused haddock on a superstring
observe one haddock and know about the other too
We feel that metal oxide semiconductor chips taste better
with laser beans, you batter believe it.
Our staff work around the clock
engineering nano-fish cakes and
processing each crumb
calculating the spin and charge of every spring roll
If you let us know beforehand we make a wicked
Flying lasagna to go.
At JC we promote probabilistic reasoning
down the chippy
like you thought, fission on microchips
hundreds of complex
fields and farms of mathematics
physics and engineering combined
bring you the most elegant chip in the
malti-vinegar-verse.
Way beyond my own capacity to truly describe
like a thousand mini food stalls set up shop
on your tongue
just taste it yourself.
From the deep learning fat fryer we moved
on to the human biochip and chip shop
behaviour work as started by Steve Fry
Optimistic about A.I and not afraid of
artificial ingredients and challenges confronting
chip lovers: frynet
We express caution and to consult
“The Dangers of Deep Battered Qubit Fission Chips”
Now, try some Incredibly Baked Motherchips (IBM)
our tasty Google chips or
hyper greasy Facebook wedges
whatever you like
there’s the deliciously sweet deep fried Apple chips
and microsofties
Relax don’t sweat it
visit the Happy Termineater today
You’ll be back before yesterday.
This weeks John Connor, Fish & Chip Shop Specials are:
Fission Quantum Blue Cheese Chips (FQBCC)
Quantum Gravy Foam Chips (QGFC)
Quantum Message & Chips (QMC)
State Of The Pi & Chips (SOTPAC)
Fission Chips Mini Quantum (FCMQ)
Fission ‘Universal Quantum’ Chips (FUQC)
P-Wave Quantum Special (PWQS)
D-Wave Soft Pineapple Gravy Face Goozon & Chips (DWSPGFGC)
–The Quark Whisperer.
…looking for clues in the digital ash
and piles of dust
our stuff!
annihilation in the Brexitrump fires
i fly backdraft through a series of
disasters, or robberies
this is my victim report
first, robbed by the creepy technology
the cameras and hidden microphones
the advanced surveillance equipment,
that robbed us of what remained of our
privacy, and made it publicity
May 16, 2005 – March 11, 2006 = 360 days.
Inside The Sacred Fig Ficus religiosa
Sitting Za Zen, coming back in 2012 maybe?
Goal Accomplished.
Za Zentertainment, moved ON!
Individual Sacred trees join together
Jātaka seeds spread, sacred FIG grow strong,
Purple, green, ivory.
A Maitreya Bodhisattva, as a fig
“The accomplished goal?”
Sitting, Za Zen.
Moved ON!
Palden Dorje [Ram] seems like a living Buddha to me!
Turn off your computer for a moment
Relax your mind, switch off TV
SSSSSSSit.
Think about him…
The authorities froze the bank account
Of the local committee managing the crowds,
While RAM Bomjon sits,
Frozazen like 600,000 Rupees
Moving on….
Pipal (Peepul) or Ashwattha tree,
Species of banyan fig,
Ram Bomjon’s like Robinson Crusoe from the 1719 British sort of Jātaka tale, ,
Crusoe made his home in a Banyan tree too
But R.C is restless and roams and wonders…
And is a fictional character.
Ram Bonjom Sitting SILENT.
Za Zen. Like thoughts Move on.
So move on…
Wearing
Just a thin cloth, through ALL seasons, sitting
Immune to fire, immune to cold and snakes bites.
Sitting through FAST headlines shooting
From satellite to satellite claiming –
“I’m a Buddha boy, get me out of here!”
HOAX whistleblowers “i don’t believe etc.”
What boy is not Buddha Boy?
Move on,
All equally coming Yogi lovers
Meanwhile…
Ram was sitting,
And he HAS moved on, moving NOW already!
Goal Accomplished, must meditate 6 YEARS
Back in 2012, maybe?
SILENT Genius
Sitting inside a sacred Fig tree,
A large and beautiful tree that produces
Small
GENIUS
Fruit.
Sitting Without food, water, sleep or
The need to use the Toilet.
Bomjon RECYCLES like a human can!
Like a TREE,
Like a TREE you see, why “I” wanna be a TREE too!
Ram sits, he satisfies me, he DOES it!
Silently, Bravo,
Za-Zen of the Jungle Chitwan
Jungle heart.
Bliss.
250 kilometres south of Kathmandu his
Distinctive sloping shoulders intertwined
With FIG arms, Hair like John Bonham,
Like the Saraswati River shoulder, bend of bay.
Rigvedic river swimming along, branching –
Sitting Za Zen. Silent.
Reaching inn for Za Zen,
Swirling ZA
ZEN.
360 days, 366 Billion worlds and no words.
Continuously meditating in the same position
For at least 12 hours a day
Goal accomplished – Move ON!
Joined TREES> of the Terai region together,
Made peace with Rhinoceros unicornis and jungle Tiger
Silently!
Bless you, thankyou
Keep on Moving
I have decided to spit my thoughts and reflexions on England’s football quest for the holy golden cup. Contrary to what many of my own friends think [due to my criticism of corporate globalization and sell out sports people] i love football. I am especially fond of World Cup football. I like it when people of the world unite through competitive sports, a good example of positive globalization and the potential for international, unclogged-up, global communication. Here’s some of my thoughts just now [4.50 PM Saturday 10th June, 2006. West Midlands, England.]
Smiles caked upon Brit red faces – emerging in slow motion on video replay when the English goal was scored by one of paraguay’s own players.
The highlight for me came when Robinson the English GOAL-keeper launched the ball from his hoof and it bounced off the giant Television monitors hanging from the sizzling Frankfurt stadium cieling. It reminded me about how TV influences the game of football sometimes.
The referee called Marco Rodriguez seemed rather biased against England at times with his often skewed decisions, such as booking Peter Crouch with a yellow card for a tackle that appeared on video pretty clean and within the acceptable level of aggression to me – he went for the ball, but the player with possession of the ball went tumbling over in a way that gave the impression to the Mexican referee that Crouch was playing dirty and below the standard of acceptable conduct. I disagreed with that particular decision.
Songs such as “Self preservation society” and “God save the Queen” rang out from the England fans and i rekon Prince William who was at the game rather enjoyed this selection – rather boring tunes to my ears but nonetheless songs that aimed to brighten up the spirits of the English players who were especially feeling the 30 degree heat. They looked like frankfurter sausages at times in the second half of the match in which Paraguay improved their rate of shots at goal and their amount of time in possession of the magical football which is new and scientifically designed to…..swerve more easily? i dunno?
Thankyou Paraguay for helping England get 3 points from their first game and also for reminding me that the real goal is at home. The word home-goal represents to me, today the sense of self knowledge; and drives home the phrase “Home is where the heart is” into my mind.
It’s funny to me how all the goal’s in football only lead to winning a golden cup, the individual goal’s themselves do not have specific meanings in the sense of describing a set of desires or “things.” They just appear a means to win and what’s winning but an invisible concept attached to certain game rules and certain conditions? Goal’s are a lot like “thing’s” in that they are non-specific, like “stuff” and “whatchamacallits”
In football everybody will’s for a goal, a ball in the net thing – which i can only deduce from my limited perceptions to be related to the Golden Cup or “Holy Grail” of world football – Surely not – there must be more to this. An invisible force ? pride? prestige? patriotism or simple and innocent love of one’s own gene pool and country? Something!
I had fun watching the match, i loved watching the crowds faces igniting in slow motion when England scored, or should i say when Paraguay scored – in their own goal hole?
With the U.S.A and England and Iran and Saudi Arabia and Germany and France and Italy all playing games together, i would imagine that a GOAL; a real GOAL for this World Cup hoofball event would be to forge better relationships between these nations, their so called national representatives and the common people who live in these nations. Unified in their love for sport, competition and games!
Maybe they might start discussing their respective sponsors and asking themselves if football and beer, or football and fatty fast foods have much in common with one another? But hey this is just football right, not neuropolitiq or socio-psychological warfare between the worlds biggest corporate superpowers. Just a game right, and I’m lovin it!
P.S I just punched paraguay into GooGles search engine and the first link is to the CIA world factbook. Coincidently that’s also the top link for England too; according to google. Seems the CIA have a monopoly at google?
Here’s what the rest of news in cyberspace has to say about England’s 1-0 win.
www.channel4.com/news/content/news
football.guardian.co.uk/worldcup2006/matchreport
DEEP SCRATCH 