... well normally I am pretty introverted, and keep to myself, but in this instance I was feeling outgoing and in a very good mood. since we were downtown and I was on my way to lunch anyway I asked if he was going to buy food. he said yes, and I said hell join me down at spankys. the guy was actually an intellectual and we got into a great conversation about. . . .
feminism in theological education. But just as we were finishing our list of the forces which violate the intellectual integrity of education and splinter movements for justice in US society we were startled by a very loud crash....
what the hell you doing walking to work on a saturday morning dude??? take a break
well anyways now that you are here, lets go see your workplace and discuss the underpinnings of a sociological marketplace in the urban wastescape of the typical downtown of most american cities.
it was the evil gehryonzo, capturing architects to run in the spinning wheels of his mega computer..."i will need more power to render my latest building!"
What could I do now?!
but in my haste, i stepped into a massive banana-slug orgy and...
Aug 31, 04 4:16 pm ·
·
...I slipped, fell, and died. Then John the Baptist Piranesi met me and said, "Now you are going to visit Manfredo Tafuri who is always in the out-house. It's time for your...
neural archi-spanking in the afterlife for always putting the synonym "archi-" in front of everything and making me archi-read "the virgin architect who died from running away from a jittering manhole where gehryenstein popped out" i got to the third page when i hear a voice...
shriek hollowly, "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,
A Yankee Doodle do or die.
A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam's,
Born on the Fourth of July.
I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart ..."
sirens pierced the night - er- after that eclipse.
from the fifth floor i heard, "get a room", as a sloshing honey pot was flung toward the moon...
..tak..tak.archihellmail sir.plot plan drawings you have requested..
meanwhile somewhere in battery park,
"daniel for how long?"
"i just need another project zaha, just one more deer."
suddenly they, almost at the same time see calatrava flying by like pegasus yelling at them,
"run if you cannot hide and remember what happened when apollo and artemis were angry withn Niobe."
i got to the 10th page when i hear a voice...
Aug 31, 04 6:17 pm ·
·
...and it was Princess Diana, "I died seven years ago today. Aldo Rossi died on September 4th the same year, also in a car crash. We hang out a lot now."
..asked.. "why aldo? is it the use of color?"
"non of that" she said promptly. her eyes dropping in that shy-mama manner. i am relieved. and i quickly told aldo what happened in battery park. i wish them the best and choose the diagonal walkpath towards the antenna, thinking of..
Aug 31, 04 6:48 pm ·
·
...how Artimis and Diana are the same. So does that make Rossi Apollo?!? Anyway, I'm hungry all of a sudden, and now that I can be way obese, I'm gonna...
...stop by julia to see if she set up her kitchen yet. the heat should be on (no pun). i have seen caravans dropping off sacks of distant aromas by her new house previously owned by herr bruno taut with all glass ceiling kitchen. bruno? even tafuri can't figure it out why he left suddenly to join taliesin-down all of a sudden and live in yurts, talking to to chief all night. but do i really care?
all glass ceiling. julia can't stand it. wouldn't be interesting if she asks me to remodel the house? i mean, what would i do? the first image comes to my mind is...haha...
first image comes to my mind is...[/i] the Taliesin Taliban Tapdancing their Taliesin Talespin in the august Arizona dust on top of Dante's 7th glass ceiling, while Julia yortles along to an Elvis karaoke machine...
i say to my self..you are on kid. it is the right place right time let the imams rule the red dirt and turn up the speakers to higher decibels..
but...
came along merendally his stockpot dinner of a half a pound or
round steak, very rare, Blong's best from Portarlington's Butchery,
with a side of riceypeasy and Corkshire alla mellonge and bacon
with (a little mar pliche!) a pair of chops and thrown in from the
silver grid by the proprietoress of the roastery who lives on the
hill and gaulusch gravy and pumpernickel to wolp up and a
gorger's bulby onion (Margareter, Margaretar Margarastican-
deatar) and as well with second course and then finally, after
his avalunch oclock snack at Appelredt's or Kitzy Braten's of
saddlebag steak and a Botherhim with her old phoenix portar,
jistr to gwen his gwistel and praties sweet and Irish too and mock
gurgle to whistle his way through for the swallying, swp by swp,
and he getting his tongue arount it and Boland's broth broken
into the bargain, to his regret his soupay avic nightcap, vitellusit,
a carusal consistent with second course eyer and becon (the rich
of) with broad beans, hig, steak, hag, pepper the diamond bone
hotted up timmtomm and while'twas after that he scoffed a drake-
ling snuggily stuffed following cold loin of veal more cabbage and
in their green free state a clister of peas, soppositorily petty, last.
P.S. but a fingerhot of rheingenever to give the Pax cum Spiri-
tututu. Drily thankful. Burud and dulse and typureely jam, all
free of charge, aman, and. And the best of wine avec. For his
heart was as big as himself, so it was, ay, and bigger! While the
loaves are aflowering and the nachtingale jugs. All St Jilian's of
Berry, hurrah there for tobies! Mabhrodaphne, brown pride of our
custard house quay, amiable with repastful, cheerus graciously,
cheer us! Ever of thee, Anne Lynch, he's deeply draiming!
Houseanna! Tea is the Highest! For auld lang Ayternitay! Thus
thicker will he grow now, grew new. And better and better on
butterand butter. At the sign of Mesthress Vanhungrig. However!
Mind you, nuckling down to nourritures, were they menuly some
ham and jaffas, and I don't mean to make the ingestion for the
moment that he was guilbey of gulpable gluttony as regards chew-
able boltaballs, but, biestings be biestings, and upon the whole,
when not off his oats, given prelove appetite and postlove pricing
good coup, goodcheap, were it thermidor oogst or floreal may....
..or may not be the porkfat you're familiar with. so, the supper table was long and those of us who were seated our backs towards the view, were given silver framed hand mirrors to enjoy the scenery. josephine was stunning sitting next to le corbu and van rohe looked and acted like he had one too many. with the help of my mirror i could see andy warhol doing napkin drawings and gossiping about cleopatra who, i hear left him out of the guest list in her summerplace in antioch. lately object of napoleon's fantasies, cleo, this afternoon, was sharing the table with a looser named van gogh who napeleon wanted to hurt real bad. tall dors opened obviously for a special guest and much to my amazement el duce entered the room holding hands with marlin monro who was trying to hold her flying skirt down and taking small steps to keep pace with musso.
i got to the page 45 when i hear a voice...
..-ahoy.
-howdy patrick.
-pardon the dust ab. RNC chatter y'know.
-how's dubya? thanks for the pix from gharib. you sure blewed the horn.
-pits ab pits.
-got bycles?
-7/11 dude. riders in the can. riders in the can.
-you wlad you.
-touch o gold. later..
saying bluu bluu bluu
i started searching where this sound came from
i opened the first door
i opened the second door the third fourth fifth ......
and there i am in the kitchen discovering the bluu bluu is the sound of boiling water...
Blue, blue
I will sit right down, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
And I will sing, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
Drifting into my solitude, over my head
Don't you wonder sometimes
'Bout sound and vision
...when i pull up along side of PJ i notice a curious looking Iraqi woman ZH with PJ's johnson in her mouth, and her mumbling or gurgling something about the death of decon. at that exact moment JD walks by and gropes a young womans left breast and exclaims...
..its a 1975 dodge duster, the lemony sibling of great dart. at the front passenger vinyl bucket seat is remdutch, slurping a large a&w rootbeer. eyes half shot and unaware of the ride. there is a white powdered snut coming down from his left nostril. pj slams the brakes..
..ayyycccyyyykkk..,
he reaches over dutchman's lap and rolls down the window and says to the 'guy',
- herr vandero. which way to idaho?..
Then the rain came and it was heavy. The drops were like lead onto JD's Kevlar Vest. However, it didn't feel like rain. Actually JD could feel nothing of the rain. He held out his hands and watched as the water gathered in his palms. "Why can't if feel the very thing I see before me?†JD shouted in anger. He fell to his knees, the water splashed from beneath him. It was then that he knew he this world was not real and he was only a rendering caught between his intellect and his madness. He lowered his head and whispered...
..and whispered "Beelzebub, what have I done to deserve punishment at the hands of your hell hounds and your cat-o-nine tails? How have I come to know only pain, and only the wrath of your stinging influence on my mental state?"
JD knelt down to the curb and a tear rolled down his cheek. The left one. All this time, he had never fully come to terms in any manner with the awesome power Satan's henchmen had over his every move and every thought. The breasts, he though, may as well be the eyes of the dark god of the underworld, coaxing him into sinful lust.
"I will work to serve a purpose," he cried, wondering what that purpose on earth might be...
"Hoooly Boooooly Booooh!"
A voice came from behind him.
"Blaaaah!"
Was it a young woman he heard? He strained to hear where the voice had come from, but only the sound of rain drops on black pavement came to him. He turned back toward the street, and there it was again,
"Whaaaaa - wooooogly booooogly baaaaaah!"
The voice was louder this time. Closer. But the origin was still hidden from his mind.
"Hey - you . . . Oaaah. Woa, what the . . . now . . . Now hoooa?"
Then all at once, as if she had been there all morning, he saw her in the rain. Soaked red dress. Jet black hair. Mouth swollen in the moist afternoon air.
"Moooogly Boooogly Blagh!" she declared through red lips. This time in his direction. She walked toward him slowly, looking down at him in the rain. Dark green filled his mind as he met her eyes.
"Maaaaloooff fooooby doooooby doooo!" She repeated. At least he thought she had said something like that a moment ago...
...regardless how sunny it was, everyone was dressed in black. the fake funeral for WW. a half empty coffin was carried by her pal bearers all the way to central square.
she was dead 10 years ago and her carcass was trashed from the sport utility vehicle belonging to, yet another minor cousin from kennedy family.
Wuwu Williams, best known while alive, for the butique hotel she owned in las vegas. designed by her with the assistance, ofcourse, liveskin and pittbull partnership. the first building covered in real fur from only african animals.
the autopsy proved, she was pushed into showtiger cage in nearby motel and when she was partially eatendead, put in an suv and thrown out near hoover dam...
i go to page 67 and i hear a voice..
i go to page 90 and i hear a voice..
-shine is that you? this is david childs. do you need money? do you need job? top pay, full benefit, your office next to mine. now..c'mon..
-you will hear from my lawyer.. motherfucker..i ain't no santa..
and, i go to the beginning where all this started.
I am walking downtown and this guys says to me...
-HEY..
I turn around, omygod, its no other than Adolf Loos,
-HEY, Wolfie did you give the idea to Ludwig Wittgenstein for his sister's pad.? Huh?
- Yep. Good thing though it's in the Bulgarian's hands now.
- I guess its no crime no more..
- 4+4 is 10/4. fuckinstein..should never lowered the ceiling 2 inches.. gettin' upset. got smokes?
-check with cardinal Mahony man..
-That criminal with dexotex cathedral courtyard?
- Yea. Thats him. Moneo's lump sum.
-Gotcha. Later dude.
-Later lus.
The sweet, melliflous strains of Van Halen's "Panama" coming out of the busted speakers of my Buick Skylark. I park my car on the side of the road, and as I knock back a couple of Bud tallboys, I hear the voice of David Lee Roth, poet laureate of the 3/4 sleeve, shaggy hair set:
"It's getting a little hot out tonight. I can see the road from heat coming off of it. I reach down .. between my legs ... ease the seat back"
And then ....
Mar 17, 05 6:32 pm ·
·
...it's interesting how the Guggenheim circular rotunda with spiral ramp is a reenactment of the Vatican Museum's entrance rotunda with double helix ramps.
Yes, Wright's design (1943-59) essentially reenacts Momo's design (1929-32). Did Wright covertly sense, or did the Guggenheims overtly express a desire for a Jewish Vatican Museum?
[BTW, Momo's spiral rotunda reenacts Bernini's(?) earlier Vatican spiral ramp, the one that allowed the pope to travel on horseback to and from the Belvedre Court high up in the Papal Palace (which is now for the most part the Vatican Museum).]
So now we have Barney elaborately reenacting the raising and lowering of testicles. Given the corporal territory, Barney no doubt plays a lot with the (chronosomatically defined?) fertile imagination. Greenaway also utilizes the fertile imagination, although much more assimilatingly and metabolically. Is Barney perhaps exhibiting /manifesting a pre-natal fertile imagination? Chronosomatically, that is indeed a possibility. Given the female body and it's role in embryonic development, the present 'plane of the present' slices through a female that is approximately five months pregnant. And given that around now is when a developing fetus reverses position from head to to head down, there might just be some developing testicles within the slice of our time, and maybe that's where Barney is chronosomatically (speaking).
[latest chronosomatic note (yet to be numbered):
In terms of the present pregnancy within the female body, there may well be twins developing, one male and one female. Since the ultimate birth of the current prenancy will correspond with a "second birth" (ref. Eliade), the notion of a forthcoming male/female pair of twins (rightly?) contrasts the primordial male/male (metabolic) twins of creation myths.
A future chronosomatic note may concern itself with the Jewish psyche and it's relationship with reenactment, eg, the contemporary state of Israel. With the Holocust corresponding to the transverse colon, as do all contemporary genosidal purges, and the forthcoming end of assimilation in 2194, is today's Israel the ur-metabolic state?]
realising that was far more spewl than any architect should spit, I reached into my pockets for my fags..Swiss Zigars (Niemeyer swears by them attributing to his good health as he's 98). I tap my other pocket for my Zaha Hadid designed zippo lighter and take a long draw. Spring is almost here got to finish my competition entry for the ZooLab museum v2.1, I'm running against OMA and I think this is my chance to...FAT chance says my ultra-cool co-worker reading my mind. He's an architect's architect, a man's man and a woman's man too. Always in black, crisp - usually has some trolley dolly flown in for the weekend - he claims he hasn't sleep a full night of sleep since 94 and i believe him but looking at the quoff of hair always right and his fresh pair of eyes you wouldn't believe. I on the other hand look like crap a day after an all nighter...its just not fair. He reaches over takes a draw of my fad and quips.....
so I'm walking down the street with some ppl from work when a beatup blue GMC van pulls up with a pair of guys offering a cheap stereo system because the guy who ordered it couldn't fit it in his room...
Which city doesn't this happen in?
Apr 1, 05 1:49 pm ·
·
i don't know, but some Turkish looking guy used to sell fake oriental rugs from a van at the busy intersection up the street from me. Oh how I miss the 90s.
i am walking to the city hall in downtown los angeles and i hear a voice,
-herr abra. psssst.
what the fuck. i turn around and see this austrian looking guy holding a chinese made turkish rug. whaat.. it is alphie loos again.
-where did you get that lus?
-got it at crime of the ornament sale over there.
-you mean the new giant store that use to be caltrans?
-yep. the old caltrans. koreans got it now.
could you ever believe it? no oil, no cars, no caltrans. freeways are empty. reuse projects are abundant.
-so whats the story with the rug?
-see the pattern on it. it is pure art. a kilim pattern on a rug. never done before. chinese are smart they bypass everything. nothing is sacred to them. that is the work of mao. his revolution destroyed cultures. he got rid of the ornemental rug for simpler kilim it is not even wool, all syntechtic. one less ornament, makes me happy. do you need a rug?
i am thinking, this motherfucker alphie, is trying to sell me.. snake oil..he'll turn around and buy crack if i buy the shit..
-no man, thanks. did you go see cardinal mahony? he likes art. but you have to break your crack pipe in front of him.
-fuck yeah?
-fuck ya..
he starts to walk north towards the cathedral where mahony lives in the back of the gift shop. i notice he is limping a bit. great lus. he use to jail people for crown molding. look at him now. willing to throw his crack pipe to converted old hollywood freeway for a rug deal.
i keep walking towards the city hall, feeling smart about not buying into the rug story shit..
then i hear a big boom..
you take it from here...
So I am walking downtown and this guys says to me...
. . . do you have any spare change?
... well normally I am pretty introverted, and keep to myself, but in this instance I was feeling outgoing and in a very good mood. since we were downtown and I was on my way to lunch anyway I asked if he was going to buy food. he said yes, and I said hell join me down at spankys. the guy was actually an intellectual and we got into a great conversation about. . . .
feminism in theological education. But just as we were finishing our list of the forces which violate the intellectual integrity of education and splinter movements for justice in US society we were startled by a very loud crash....
what the hell you doing walking to work on a saturday morning dude??? take a break
well anyways now that you are here, lets go see your workplace and discuss the underpinnings of a sociological marketplace in the urban wastescape of the typical downtown of most american cities.
So I am walking downtown and this guys says to me...
"my names is bond..james bond".
i noticed thru the corner of my eye that a manhole cover (akak utility access cover) only 20 meters away, had begun to jigger slightly...
the little invisible [1] red man on my shoulder began to scream his warning: "... ! ....
1 red, yet invisible, yes. you work that out.
holy crap that man hole cover is moving!!!!!....run for the nearest overhanging protectorate!!!!
it was the evil gehryonzo, capturing architects to run in the spinning wheels of his mega computer..."i will need more power to render my latest building!"
What could I do now?!
while running i met Gehry who tried to seduce me with some buildings so i told him "fuck off i have to run"...
but in my haste, i stepped into a massive banana-slug orgy and...
...I slipped, fell, and died. Then John the Baptist Piranesi met me and said, "Now you are going to visit Manfredo Tafuri who is always in the out-house. It's time for your...
neural archi-spanking in the afterlife for always putting the synonym "archi-" in front of everything and making me archi-read "the virgin architect who died from running away from a jittering manhole where gehryenstein popped out" i got to the third page when i hear a voice...
shriek hollowly, "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,
A Yankee Doodle do or die.
A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam's,
Born on the Fourth of July.
I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart ..."
sirens pierced the night - er- after that eclipse.
from the fifth floor i heard, "get a room", as a sloshing honey pot was flung toward the moon...
..tak..tak.archihellmail sir.plot plan drawings you have requested..
meanwhile somewhere in battery park,
"daniel for how long?"
"i just need another project zaha, just one more deer."
suddenly they, almost at the same time see calatrava flying by like pegasus yelling at them,
"run if you cannot hide and remember what happened when apollo and artemis were angry withn Niobe."
i got to the 10th page when i hear a voice...
...and it was Princess Diana, "I died seven years ago today. Aldo Rossi died on September 4th the same year, also in a car crash. We hang out a lot now."
I was stunned and confused so I....
..asked.. "why aldo? is it the use of color?"
"non of that" she said promptly. her eyes dropping in that shy-mama manner. i am relieved. and i quickly told aldo what happened in battery park. i wish them the best and choose the diagonal walkpath towards the antenna, thinking of..
...how Artimis and Diana are the same. So does that make Rossi Apollo?!? Anyway, I'm hungry all of a sudden, and now that I can be way obese, I'm gonna...
eat that whole superbowl-full of orgying Banana Slug Split.
peptobismol, anyone?
...stop by julia to see if she set up her kitchen yet. the heat should be on (no pun). i have seen caravans dropping off sacks of distant aromas by her new house previously owned by herr bruno taut with all glass ceiling kitchen. bruno? even tafuri can't figure it out why he left suddenly to join taliesin-down all of a sudden and live in yurts, talking to to chief all night. but do i really care?
all glass ceiling. julia can't stand it. wouldn't be interesting if she asks me to remodel the house? i mean, what would i do? the first image comes to my mind is...haha...
first image comes to my mind is...[/i] the Taliesin Taliban Tapdancing their Taliesin Talespin in the august Arizona dust on top of Dante's 7th glass ceiling, while Julia yortles along to an Elvis karaoke machine...
i say to my self..you are on kid. it is the right place right time let the imams rule the red dirt and turn up the speakers to higher decibels..
but...
came along merendally his stockpot dinner of a half a pound or
round steak, very rare, Blong's best from Portarlington's Butchery,
with a side of riceypeasy and Corkshire alla mellonge and bacon
with (a little mar pliche!) a pair of chops and thrown in from the
silver grid by the proprietoress of the roastery who lives on the
hill and gaulusch gravy and pumpernickel to wolp up and a
gorger's bulby onion (Margareter, Margaretar Margarastican-
deatar) and as well with second course and then finally, after
his avalunch oclock snack at Appelredt's or Kitzy Braten's of
saddlebag steak and a Botherhim with her old phoenix portar,
jistr to gwen his gwistel and praties sweet and Irish too and mock
gurgle to whistle his way through for the swallying, swp by swp,
and he getting his tongue arount it and Boland's broth broken
into the bargain, to his regret his soupay avic nightcap, vitellusit,
a carusal consistent with second course eyer and becon (the rich
of) with broad beans, hig, steak, hag, pepper the diamond bone
hotted up timmtomm and while'twas after that he scoffed a drake-
ling snuggily stuffed following cold loin of veal more cabbage and
in their green free state a clister of peas, soppositorily petty, last.
P.S. but a fingerhot of rheingenever to give the Pax cum Spiri-
tututu. Drily thankful. Burud and dulse and typureely jam, all
free of charge, aman, and. And the best of wine avec. For his
heart was as big as himself, so it was, ay, and bigger! While the
loaves are aflowering and the nachtingale jugs. All St Jilian's of
Berry, hurrah there for tobies! Mabhrodaphne, brown pride of our
custard house quay, amiable with repastful, cheerus graciously,
cheer us! Ever of thee, Anne Lynch, he's deeply draiming!
Houseanna! Tea is the Highest! For auld lang Ayternitay! Thus
thicker will he grow now, grew new. And better and better on
butterand butter. At the sign of Mesthress Vanhungrig. However!
Mind you, nuckling down to nourritures, were they menuly some
ham and jaffas, and I don't mean to make the ingestion for the
moment that he was guilbey of gulpable gluttony as regards chew-
able boltaballs, but, biestings be biestings, and upon the whole,
when not off his oats, given prelove appetite and postlove pricing
good coup, goodcheap, were it thermidor oogst or floreal may....
seemed to fit, thank god for Joyce
..or may not be the porkfat you're familiar with. so, the supper table was long and those of us who were seated our backs towards the view, were given silver framed hand mirrors to enjoy the scenery. josephine was stunning sitting next to le corbu and van rohe looked and acted like he had one too many. with the help of my mirror i could see andy warhol doing napkin drawings and gossiping about cleopatra who, i hear left him out of the guest list in her summerplace in antioch. lately object of napoleon's fantasies, cleo, this afternoon, was sharing the table with a looser named van gogh who napeleon wanted to hurt real bad. tall dors opened obviously for a special guest and much to my amazement el duce entered the room holding hands with marlin monro who was trying to hold her flying skirt down and taking small steps to keep pace with musso.
i got to the page 45 when i hear a voice...
..-ahoy.
-howdy patrick.
-pardon the dust ab. RNC chatter y'know.
-how's dubya? thanks for the pix from gharib. you sure blewed the horn.
-pits ab pits.
-got bycles?
-7/11 dude. riders in the can. riders in the can.
-you wlad you.
-touch o gold. later..
i hear a voice...
saying bluu bluu bluu
i started searching where this sound came from
i opened the first door
i opened the second door the third fourth fifth ......
and there i am in the kitchen discovering the bluu bluu is the sound of boiling water...
Blue, blue
I will sit right down, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
And I will sing, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
Drifting into my solitude, over my head
Don't you wonder sometimes
'Bout sound and vision
[attrib:]
http://lyrics.rare-lyrics.com/D/David-Bowie/Sound-&-Vision.html
I am walking downtown again and this guys says to me...
-grenchgd.
-kfiohj, tdero.
-bimbomtom
-mirrarrrgh
-jupidojupidi.
there is a car approaching and i notice philip johnson on the driver seat..
...when i pull up along side of PJ i notice a curious looking Iraqi woman ZH with PJ's johnson in her mouth, and her mumbling or gurgling something about the death of decon. at that exact moment JD walks by and gropes a young womans left breast and exclaims...
..its a 1975 dodge duster, the lemony sibling of great dart. at the front passenger vinyl bucket seat is remdutch, slurping a large a&w rootbeer. eyes half shot and unaware of the ride. there is a white powdered snut coming down from his left nostril. pj slams the brakes..
..ayyycccyyyykkk..,
he reaches over dutchman's lap and rolls down the window and says to the 'guy',
- herr vandero. which way to idaho?..
at that exact moment JD walks by and gropes a young womans left breast and exclaims...
got milk?..
at this point everybody looking at eachother..death silence..
Just then the blind architect drives his 69 camaro up down the strip looking for a HIV free Hooker for his next victim.
Then the rain came and it was heavy. The drops were like lead onto JD's Kevlar Vest. However, it didn't feel like rain. Actually JD could feel nothing of the rain. He held out his hands and watched as the water gathered in his palms. "Why can't if feel the very thing I see before me?†JD shouted in anger. He fell to his knees, the water splashed from beneath him. It was then that he knew he this world was not real and he was only a rendering caught between his intellect and his madness. He lowered his head and whispered...
..and whispered "Beelzebub, what have I done to deserve punishment at the hands of your hell hounds and your cat-o-nine tails? How have I come to know only pain, and only the wrath of your stinging influence on my mental state?"
JD knelt down to the curb and a tear rolled down his cheek. The left one. All this time, he had never fully come to terms in any manner with the awesome power Satan's henchmen had over his every move and every thought. The breasts, he though, may as well be the eyes of the dark god of the underworld, coaxing him into sinful lust.
"I will work to serve a purpose," he cried, wondering what that purpose on earth might be...
"Hoooly Boooooly Booooh!"
A voice came from behind him.
"Blaaaah!"
Was it a young woman he heard? He strained to hear where the voice had come from, but only the sound of rain drops on black pavement came to him. He turned back toward the street, and there it was again,
"Whaaaaa - wooooogly booooogly baaaaaah!"
The voice was louder this time. Closer. But the origin was still hidden from his mind.
"Hey - you . . . Oaaah. Woa, what the . . . now . . . Now hoooa?"
Then all at once, as if she had been there all morning, he saw her in the rain. Soaked red dress. Jet black hair. Mouth swollen in the moist afternoon air.
"Moooogly Boooogly Blagh!" she declared through red lips. This time in his direction. She walked toward him slowly, looking down at him in the rain. Dark green filled his mind as he met her eyes.
"Maaaaloooff fooooby doooooby doooo!" She repeated. At least he thought she had said something like that a moment ago...
...regardless how sunny it was, everyone was dressed in black. the fake funeral for WW. a half empty coffin was carried by her pal bearers all the way to central square.
she was dead 10 years ago and her carcass was trashed from the sport utility vehicle belonging to, yet another minor cousin from kennedy family.
Wuwu Williams, best known while alive, for the butique hotel she owned in las vegas. designed by her with the assistance, ofcourse, liveskin and pittbull partnership. the first building covered in real fur from only african animals.
the autopsy proved, she was pushed into showtiger cage in nearby motel and when she was partially eatendead, put in an suv and thrown out near hoover dam...
i go to page 67 and i hear a voice..
* wuwu williams in her better days.
and i hear a voice..
i go to page 90 and i hear a voice..
-shine is that you? this is david childs. do you need money? do you need job? top pay, full benefit, your office next to mine. now..c'mon..
-you will hear from my lawyer.. motherfucker..i ain't no santa..
and, i go to the beginning where all this started.
I am walking downtown and this guys says to me...
-HEY..
I turn around, omygod, its no other than Adolf Loos,
-HEY, Wolfie did you give the idea to Ludwig Wittgenstein for his sister's pad.? Huh?
- Yep. Good thing though it's in the Bulgarian's hands now.
- I guess its no crime no more..
- 4+4 is 10/4. fuckinstein..should never lowered the ceiling 2 inches.. gettin' upset. got smokes?
-check with cardinal Mahony man..
-That criminal with dexotex cathedral courtyard?
- Yea. Thats him. Moneo's lump sum.
-Gotcha. Later dude.
-Later lus.
Than I hear....
"HEY WHORE! i'm writing a letter to your mother, telling her what a slut you are!"
The sweet, melliflous strains of Van Halen's "Panama" coming out of the busted speakers of my Buick Skylark. I park my car on the side of the road, and as I knock back a couple of Bud tallboys, I hear the voice of David Lee Roth, poet laureate of the 3/4 sleeve, shaggy hair set:
"It's getting a little hot out tonight. I can see the road from heat coming off of it. I reach down .. between my legs ... ease the seat back"
And then ....
...it's interesting how the Guggenheim circular rotunda with spiral ramp is a reenactment of the Vatican Museum's entrance rotunda with double helix ramps.
Yes, Wright's design (1943-59) essentially reenacts Momo's design (1929-32). Did Wright covertly sense, or did the Guggenheims overtly express a desire for a Jewish Vatican Museum?
[BTW, Momo's spiral rotunda reenacts Bernini's(?) earlier Vatican spiral ramp, the one that allowed the pope to travel on horseback to and from the Belvedre Court high up in the Papal Palace (which is now for the most part the Vatican Museum).]
So now we have Barney elaborately reenacting the raising and lowering of testicles. Given the corporal territory, Barney no doubt plays a lot with the (chronosomatically defined?) fertile imagination. Greenaway also utilizes the fertile imagination, although much more assimilatingly and metabolically. Is Barney perhaps exhibiting /manifesting a pre-natal fertile imagination? Chronosomatically, that is indeed a possibility. Given the female body and it's role in embryonic development, the present 'plane of the present' slices through a female that is approximately five months pregnant. And given that around now is when a developing fetus reverses position from head to to head down, there might just be some developing testicles within the slice of our time, and maybe that's where Barney is chronosomatically (speaking).
[latest chronosomatic note (yet to be numbered):
In terms of the present pregnancy within the female body, there may well be twins developing, one male and one female. Since the ultimate birth of the current prenancy will correspond with a "second birth" (ref. Eliade), the notion of a forthcoming male/female pair of twins (rightly?) contrasts the primordial male/male (metabolic) twins of creation myths.
A future chronosomatic note may concern itself with the Jewish psyche and it's relationship with reenactment, eg, the contemporary state of Israel. With the Holocust corresponding to the transverse colon, as do all contemporary genosidal purges, and the forthcoming end of assimilation in 2194, is today's Israel the ur-metabolic state?]
realising that was far more spewl than any architect should spit, I reached into my pockets for my fags..Swiss Zigars (Niemeyer swears by them attributing to his good health as he's 98). I tap my other pocket for my Zaha Hadid designed zippo lighter and take a long draw. Spring is almost here got to finish my competition entry for the ZooLab museum v2.1, I'm running against OMA and I think this is my chance to...FAT chance says my ultra-cool co-worker reading my mind. He's an architect's architect, a man's man and a woman's man too. Always in black, crisp - usually has some trolley dolly flown in for the weekend - he claims he hasn't sleep a full night of sleep since 94 and i believe him but looking at the quoff of hair always right and his fresh pair of eyes you wouldn't believe. I on the other hand look like crap a day after an all nighter...its just not fair. He reaches over takes a draw of my fad and quips.....
so I'm walking down the street with some ppl from work when a beatup blue GMC van pulls up with a pair of guys offering a cheap stereo system because the guy who ordered it couldn't fit it in his room...
Which city doesn't this happen in?
i don't know, but some Turkish looking guy used to sell fake oriental rugs from a van at the busy intersection up the street from me. Oh how I miss the 90s.
i am walking to the city hall in downtown los angeles and i hear a voice,
-herr abra. psssst.
what the fuck. i turn around and see this austrian looking guy holding a chinese made turkish rug. whaat.. it is alphie loos again.
-where did you get that lus?
-got it at crime of the ornament sale over there.
-you mean the new giant store that use to be caltrans?
-yep. the old caltrans. koreans got it now.
could you ever believe it? no oil, no cars, no caltrans. freeways are empty. reuse projects are abundant.
-so whats the story with the rug?
-see the pattern on it. it is pure art. a kilim pattern on a rug. never done before. chinese are smart they bypass everything. nothing is sacred to them. that is the work of mao. his revolution destroyed cultures. he got rid of the ornemental rug for simpler kilim it is not even wool, all syntechtic. one less ornament, makes me happy. do you need a rug?
i am thinking, this motherfucker alphie, is trying to sell me.. snake oil..he'll turn around and buy crack if i buy the shit..
-no man, thanks. did you go see cardinal mahony? he likes art. but you have to break your crack pipe in front of him.
-fuck yeah?
-fuck ya..
he starts to walk north towards the cathedral where mahony lives in the back of the gift shop. i notice he is limping a bit. great lus. he use to jail people for crown molding. look at him now. willing to throw his crack pipe to converted old hollywood freeway for a rug deal.
i keep walking towards the city hall, feeling smart about not buying into the rug story shit..
then i hear a big boom..
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