#62…considering synapses firing, Divine matter…

IMG_0005.jpg

 

Turbulence, the synapses keep firing, twists and turns (a bit embarrassing).

What inside keeps it all going? memories? rituals? codifying  dreams? efforts? (oh my God the failures), the faint loss? the unattained? the firing nerves…maybe that is all, just firing nerves.

 

 

The haptic synapses, oh how embarrassing, do they mature?  Do synapses wrap up the Divine… this matter?

 

Melted ice and dried thorns, bits of  petals, leaves, still attached; crumbles of things.  Its’ Spring, or, what’s left over from Winter.  Ice and thorns and turbulence, now warmed. Some day this will lift up again, as if the past is now just sleeping.

IMG_0002

IMG_0003

Caught in the backwaters, what beauty has sustained is not to be noticed, but that beauty is still there, right?

The river does keep flowing wetness, damp alive black soil wetness that thickets will carry forth…upward… as green, green, green.  Here (where winter browns and grays all life) those little shoots of green green green… matter.  As if matter was The Divine.

As to matter, or “what matters most”; isn’t that Realm… thicker, richer, fogs denser, cold deeper, warmth more enduring, colors more revealing, under a brighter sun?  A vibrancy of stories?

Stories, it is always best (for power) to know the other man’s sins, or better yet failures. Reminiscence of old times (among friends, in front of the young) does often bring forth an event which shadows so much. Some path through the turbulent synapses: a hidden story of pointed embarrassment.

And yet we all begin embarrassed.

IMG_0001

And so we start all over again, the green, green, green (or maybe a different color) to variations along the same path, firing off similar (but oh so personal… stories); lost in the tragedy laughing, or surprised in the comedy crying.

It is common to reduce the Divinity to concepts best reserved for choosing bathroom towels, to wrap about, to cover what matters, to know…embarrassment.

IMG_0004

 

IMG_0004
What We Have Done           painted wood

 

#57…Idle thoughts Illinois and Ballerinas…

img_0001

Our balletic prairie, The State of Illinois.  Illinois, a graceful ballerina, balances; just look at the map. We are surrounded by a bunch of boxy, less lusciously graceful states, in the great fly-over land, the American midwest.

img_0002

Illinois, as a ballerina, has a hefty derriere; bounded by, and fondled by, the Father of Waters (maybe a bit inappropriate).    Illinois is somewhat flat-chested in outline and topography, but that aids the corn growing, which maintains many  derriere’s.

Illinois has a most unfortunate abbreviation…Ill, nobody wants to be in “illness”.  Ill is  the correct description of its’ unbalanced budget and politics, but not Illinoisans.  And while noise is the description of our wind in winter, traffic in the Windy City, and garbled logic from our capitol, we actually don’t pronounce the “s” at the end of Illinois.  We prefer a more subtle uninflected, even artistic, spoken language (except for Chicago, where a lot of the people live),

img_0983

The sound of “Illinois” is rather feminine and, considering the amount of feeding it does for the rest of the world, rather appropriate.   It is also births the Mother Road, old Rt. 66, which crosses the prairie in a smooth dancer’s diagonal thrust.

High above our often stormy expanse of sky are many jet contrails, temporarily marking travelers from coastal metropolis to coastal metropolis.  With no need of maps or electronic guiding voices few know what is below.  Those who might wonder often confuse Illinois with Indiana, Iowa, Idaho, Ohio, Omaha, Oklahoma, Oahu, Ottawa, Ottumwa, and Ionia (which isn’t even in North America), but the sounds are similar.

100_4099

The vasty prairie of Illinois is where the reunion of the emotive anarchists takes place. Our “rivers gently flowing” have watered a number of artists,  including ponderers and dancers of svelte, and even passionate, dimensions.

 

#57…Idle thoughts Illinois and Ballerinas…

img_0001
Her Grace, Illinois           ink           H.Eaton

Our balletic prairie, The State of Illinois.  Illinois, a graceful ballerina, balances; just look at the map. We are surrounded by a bunch of boxy, less lusciously graceful states, in the great fly-over land, the American midwest.

img_0002
The Great Fly-Over Land

Illinois, as a ballerina, has a hefty derriere; bounded by, and fondled by, the Father of Waters (maybe a bit inappropriate).    Illinois is somewhat flat-chested in outline and topography, but that aids the corn growing, which maintains many  derriere’s.

Illinois has a most unfortunate abbreviation…Ill, nobody wants to be in “illness”.  Ill is  the correct description of its’ unbalanced budget and politics, but not Illinoisans.  And while noise is the description of our wind in winter, traffic in the Windy City, and garbled logic from our capitol, we actually don’t pronounce the “s” at the end of Illinois.  We prefer a more subtle uninflected, even artistic, spoken language (except for Chicago, where a lot of the people live),

img_0983
Prairie Picnic       oil

The sound of “Illinois” is rather feminine and, considering the amount of feeding it does for the rest of the world, rather appropriate.   It is also births the Mother Road, old Rt. 66, which crosses the prairie in a smooth dancer’s diagonal thrust.

High above our often stormy expanse of sky are many jet contrails, temporarily marking travelers from coastal metropolis to coastal metropolis.  With no need of maps or electronic guiding voices few know what is below.  Those who might wonder often confuse Illinois with Indiana, Iowa, Idaho, Ohio, Omaha, Oklahoma, Oahu, Ottawa, Ottumwa, and Ionia (which isn’t even in North America), but the sounds are similar.

100_4099
She Wonders About Her Treasure        oil

The vasty prairie of Illinois is where the reunion of the emotive anarchists takes place. Our “rivers gently flowing” have watered a number of artists,  including ponderers and dancers of svelte, and even passionate, dimensions.

 

#56…Considering further playful thoughts…

Parents and grandparents are the audience for most performances by wee ones.  As a consequence this post may get a bit boring for those of you who prefer your childishness played out by adults.

img_0001

The Deciders have decided that the new systemized education (play training) should begin where we expect the children to end up.  To that end, The Decider-In-Chief (this is self-named, not what We named anyone; The Deciders are servants to the reunion’s best functioning, shown by their hobby-horse head personae): anyhow, that Decider appointed an announcer, a slick-stick hobby-horse personae, with the duty of introducing the children and their various acts in our recital.

img_0002

The recital began with a dramatic presentation of the lives of famous hobby-horse cavalrymen.  This is definitely old-style dramatization of imagination as portraying goal-focused adventures for youth.

img_0003

Next was a rather sappy maudlin story of a lost little girl.  According to a legend she finds a mysterious decorated cannon-ball, belonging to some knight-errant, prince, or cavalier.  Lots of tears as this bit advanced the plot.img_0018

 

 

 

Next was an acrobatic review of how much the students had habituated into the arts of dealing with “adult” situations, the somewhat athletic control of emotion bombs.

img_0002

 

img_0003

img_0004

 

 

This was loudly applauded, the skill being accentuated by keeping the propeller spinning.  Variations of this were detailed by the announcer.

img_0003

The closing was an invented ancient ceremonial “Lighting Of The Fuse” with flint and steel, recalling the everlasting need to be prepared to ignite an emotion bomb.

img_0009

img_0008

 

The child playing this scene is probably the best example of the training The Decider -In-Chief advocates for the The Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture’s day care.

 

 

img_0015

The audience gasped as a curious errant child came centerstage. The announcer, warning about the bluntly obvious danger, was quickly dealt with by the so-called Decider-In-Chief who also dismissed the curtain call as potentially unruly.

img_0001

The solution to danger warnings…for the moment.  Hopefully, next week we can have some dancing, join us.

 

 

 

 

#55…Considering Play…

img_0001Play is the eldest of habits, preceding the scribbling on cave walls, the accumulation of stuff, the maturation of mythical leaders, the harvesting of row-crops, the forming of balls (and bombs), and the counting graphs of wealth and power.

The ultra-new ( which includes old-school avant-garde) is worthy, when remembering, that play is connected to the antiquarian, the ancients, the creation myth of all things fiction; fulfilled in all things art.

With all of the pernicious crap going on in and around the tent of The Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture it is important that we remember that there are children present; and play should be a part of this gathering, no matter what real or imagined fears the adults cling to.

img_0002

img_0005

img_0004

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our anarchist emotives live a nervous maturity; favoring adult sophistication that is (only?) monetized aggression, raging against a pitiable return. Collusion with wealth and power is often difficult to avoid, oligarchs tempt.

img_0001-2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

img_0001Please excuse the following official note:

The tent, overseen by those to whom We have given authority – The Deciders, is stretching into an oligarchic character.  Scholarly attention has been devoted to reigniting the carcass of artistic drive towards a new, superior (monied) academy; without an artistic skills component. It is to proffer effete emotive intellectualism lacking any direct involvement in lowly affairs, such as real children playing.

Play is to precede to a type of professionalism that diminishes childlike wonder with its’ erratic anarchic character ( i.e. the spontaneous substitution of a broom for a horse, the type of realism that never claims victory over an actual stone castle).  It appears that it should accomplish goals (sooner and fiscal in character) in service to the Decider-In-Chief.  Play, as now proposed, should be systemized in a digital format.

img_0009
Decider-In-Chief

img_0007

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Decider-in-Chief as established a play area developing skills more likely to benefit the fate of children when they seek a day-job.

 

img_0001

Yorick established a play area outside last summer but the winter has limited it as a refuge, arguments have reminded some of the other Deciders of that effort. To what end we must wait, at least till next Saturday.

img_0003