it was once called a beyond "good" and "evil"... as if the two were confused... i think the actual confusion comes by calling it: "beyond" good and evil - clearly we have a distinct understanding of the two, in how we treat them in the most extreme cases (as antonyms), and how we can't seem to comprehend them as antonyms: one's a ******* square, the other is a ******* triangle... in that we create a synonym siamese of the two... and how the good men squabble for an argument to contend against their "crimes", and the justice served against them... or this much came from creating Ed Gein into a romance... a fetish for artistic inspiration from Rob Zombie and the Silence of the Lambs... but no one bothers... ah... what's his name... Ted Bundy... no one wrote a song about him... no, he was clearly evil... this is what i find bewildering: the suggested "beyond".
oh, but it's only a game... there no etymology involved,
there's no looking back at words created
from the alphabetical cornflake bowl...
where cornflake-a floats about with cornflake-b
through to c, d, e... m n... l o p... and finally
rests with zed.... this is another type of game...
i don't mean it as a craft of etymology,
scouting the tongue prior, to say something
about the word in the tongue, now...
it could be a raving lunatic using the word
*δαιμων - and yes... before i make
the incission marks into the two syllables....
i want to see how a "chiral"
aesthetic of: much the identical sound will give rise
to macron omicron ō = ω... just like like η = é,
given the standard of epsilon
(ε) being the: quite distinct
measure of the sound suggested / intended.
but then, within a framework of bilingualism,
made redundant as "schizophrenia" it's an absolutely
blunt statement to say: naturally, i am split mind...
i use two tongues... i can only imagine the horror
of being mono-lingual and having the symptom of
"hearing" "voices" in your case of dis- (negated)
-ease... that suffix needs not exfoliation...
but a game, there is, nonetheless! but it requires
the Caribbean tongue of patois... never know
why certain words sound better in the native tongue
than in the tongue acquired, but hell, they do...
and to think my bilingualism became squandered on
imitating a hellish encounter with schizophrenia...
a condition so misunderstood and so exploited ("romanced")
that it makes no sense, unless if used in slandering someone:
not quiet 80, and actually in a degenerate state of having
lived a life... but i mean someone in their
20s, and embarking on a trip that completely obliterates
the boring tourist in them, along with the hope
of the father in them... and yes, if i wasn't bilingual
and merely monolingual i'd probably experience
the classic symptom: so many went down the route of
taking l.s.d. and so few never realised that the true
essence of horror is: music... people can't never fear what
they can or cannot see... it's what they hear,
or what others think that frightens the living-daylights out
of them! i mean: can you imagine a cultural
revolution when the drug made you
experience auditory-hallucinations
that's than optical variations in fluorescent
colours? i'd love to meet the man
who invented a drug that made you hallucinate
a Bach symphony... i really really would
love to meet such a man...
meaning there's a bewilderment
about blind men and deaf men...
sure, you can find them in
supermarket isle testifying that
an elephant just ****** a donkey with
its trunk... while the donkey bellowed
out some jazzy impromptu...
cos that **** would, just make sense.
how can anything make sense
when you already have five,
and given the sense of sight you turn
all revisionist and imagine things?
it can't make sense, given the senses
are already given...
it has to be the sense, turned into
a faculty: seeing-imagination
hearing-composure,
poets are never compared
to musical composers...
my choice of vocab is a bit poor
at this moment...
give me a tape recorder and i might
just be able to encrust my voice
like a cello in some symphony...
this isn't the game though...
i need patois and polish to play with
this word δαιμων...
cut open: δαι- / daj
in polish means: give... a prompt, not: to give,
but: just give it, a basis of instruction...
and now the patois... i.e. -μoν
or man... aye aye mon, the drunken jammy-sailors
sung, drinking and swerving their dreads
into puke-soaked sofas of the brothel...
so yes, we cheated a tad bit...
we didn't write down: give me the moon,
we just said: give me man...
and so pandemonium ruffled
a few feathers of man's peacock known as vanity...
and so the puppeteers said: enough
of strings! to the rook and bishop, pawn, king
queen and knight! suma summarum?
only in england, could bilingualism ever be confused
with schizophrenia... oddly enough bilingualism
can deflate classical schizophrenic symptoms...
well: the symptom isn't exactly a pain...
and they did suggest it to be a chemical imbalance...
which i found quiet funny...
given i have a chemistry degree from Edinburgh...
i can't exactly state what a chemical imbalance is...
not with the equilibrium theory...
or any care to call phosphorus dipped in water
after having stored it oil to be an "imbalance"...
surely we are talking about giving examples,
a bit like regurgitating facts...
but it would appear that there are no examples to
be given, as we are more interested in
simply regurgitating facts...
i heard this one "dear" friend of mine call
my work a word salad... as if i hadn't heard that
phrase before... well great, coming from a man
who i remember unable to recite the ******* alphabet.
god, how could i have become so
engrossed in these belittling narratives from past
or present, it's like i'm chewing on roast beef...
and i'm chewing, and i'm chewing, and i can never
even sniff the tulips of transcendence...
every time i do, i just get dragged down onto
the plateau of being the common man...
i just don't seem to value
will as my modus operandis -
only a mere be - and **** me, with that there
are so many things optional...
i feel no river needing a travelling down
on in me, i feel no sea in need of
a tide or a shipwreck...
i feel no need for a mountain and
an avalanche...
but whereas the will would guide me toward
overcoming the mountain,
with each congestion of being bewildered by
a be injected into any thing real or imaginable,
along with that quasi-thing known as thought
that later becomes speech or writing or song,
i can only state: without a will to overcome
a mountain, without a will to sail across a sea...
i am both the mountain and the sea...
in that i am being: set aside by both mountain
and sea in claiming a will over them,
i am set aside by both mountain and sea:
for i know my own vanity,
and as counter to res cogitans,
being a res vanus: i am of foremost concern to
fill that void with thought, rather than
with sights of Eldorado across the sea...
or a Tibetan monsestary, high in the mountains.
