The Crawling Eye

I'd like to meet:

mediums, mystics, beatniks, angels, visionaries, psych-folk, goths, yoddlers, yogis, monks, sadhus, fairies, mushrooms, organic gardeners, solar musicians, pan-flute players, kali shriners, kabbalists, golems, funky lions, poison frog kissers, radicals, revolutionaries, punk poets, Afro-futurists, p-funkers, film-makers in polyester suits, Dorothea Tanning, Allen Van Newkirk, Larry Weiner, Alice Coltrane tabla & sitar musicians, Persian dervish dancers, Chinese pica players, African griots, female weight-lifters, serious readers & photo collectors, red bats, aliens & UFO abductees, sound/art experimentors, the spirit of Madame Blavatsky , and the real dream tiger.

Strange Desires:

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Music:

uh dig these sounds: Louis Jordan, Alice Coltrane, Skip James, Don Cherry, Thelonious, Yma Sumac , Yuseff Lateef, Erik Satie, Alexander Scriabin, Harry Partch, John Cage, Beefheart, Steve Reich, Magic Carpet, Sun Ra, Exuma, Charley Patton, Son House, Incredible String Band, Olivier Messiaen , Billie Holiday, Boredoms, Can, Amon Duell, Sonic Youth, Jimmy McGriff, Children of the Drone, Violent Onsen Geisha, Boredoms, Jandek, MC5, Ghost, sitar, moog, Vashti Bunyan, Father Yod, Mel Lyman, Marc Bolan, Moondog, SRC, the FrUt, Les Baxter, Esquivel, Martin Denny, Godz, Elvis, Terry Riley, Pharoah Sanders, Rahsaan Roland Kirk , Xenakis, sci-fi and monster film soundtracks, Slumber Party, Terror at the Opera, HNIA, Outrageous Cherry,NNBB, Keiji Heino, Jackie O MotherFucker, Vivaldi, Ravi Shankar, Segovia, ? and the Mysterians, Sun City Girls, Monks, THE FUGS , Robert Ashley, Joseph Jarmen, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Maggots, THTX, Sunno))), Earth, Doors, Nico, Seeds, Blind Lemon Jefferson, John Lee Hooker, Horace Trapscott, John Coltrane, Leon Thomas, McCoy Tyner, Electric Miles, Half Japanese, Destroy All Monsters, Poetics, Gobbler, Perfect Me, Marnie & Monster Island "and we'll dance our lives away on the ballrooms of Marz."

Movies:

.. .. width="425" height="350" .... "In this country the blind go to the movies. There is almost no film an experienced and perceptive blind man couldn't enjoy….I do think its strange that nobody uses their eyes…. Music belongs, film is rhythm, so is music-- if dialogue could be seen as rhythm it would belong. But just rhythm -- not the printed page."-- Jack Smith 'Belated Appreciation of V.S.'
“even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space.” ~ Walter Benjamin
"“A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.” ~ Orson Welles
"“Where there is a stink of shit there is a smell of being” ~ Antonin Artaud
"A film is a petrified fountain of thought." - Jean Cocteau
"I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks while you loved me. " ~ Humphrey Bogart
"What is saved in the cinema when it achieves art is a spontaneous continuity with all mankind. It is not an art of the princes or the bourgeoisie. It is popular and vagrant. In the sky of the cinema people learn what they might have been and discover what belongs to them apart from their single lives." ~John Berger
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The Blue Angel, The Wedding March, The Scarlet Empress, Flaming Creatures, Normal Love, Scotch Tape, Modesty Blaise, Breakfast at Tiffany's, The Slime People, Maya Deren, The Bride of Frankenstein, THEM, Plan 9, Spirited Away, any flix with: Ghidra, Godzilla, Gamera, Minya, Maria Montez, Orson Wells, Margaret Rutherford, Louise Brooks, Nita Naldi, Tura Satana, Theda Bara, Lillian Gish, Veronica Lake, Marlene Dietrich, Marilyn Monroe, Sam Jaffe, most silent movies, esp; Faust, Pandora's box, Diary of a Lost Girl, Salome, (Nazimova version), Greed, Haxan, Aelita, Queen of Mars, silent soviet, futurist ballets, Raymond Pettibone, Blood of a Poet (Cocteau version), Hans Richter's Dreams Money Can Buy, Ed Wood , Larry Buchanan, Streets of Yesterday, The Adventures of Prince Achmed, German Expressionist films, Italian gallo, Suspira, Mario Bava, Dario Argento, Modesty Blaise, Pepe Le Moko, Sergio Leone, Fistful of Dollars, Once Upon a Time in America, Russ Meyer, John Waters, Walter Herzog, FASTER PUSSYCAT, KILL! KILL!, Italian zombie flix, George Melies, Fritz Lang, Erich Von Stroheim, Jan Svankmajer, Quay Brothers, Chelsea Girls, Trash, Desperate Living, Lost Highway, La Bete, & Death Bed.
"Perhaps our eyes are merely a blank film which is taken from us after our deaths to be developed elsewhere and screened as our life story in some infernal cinema or dispatched as microfilm into the sidereal void." ~Jean Baudrillard
"THE POINT IS OF NO RETURN, AND YOU'VE REACHED IT!"
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Cabria, The 3rd Man, Be Glad for the Song Has No Ending, Gummo, Space is the Place, Day is Done, Kill Bill, Faust, 1991: The Year Punk Broke, Kick out the Jams, In the Land of the War Canoes, Princess Monoko, Mesa of Lost Women, Bluebeard, White Zombie, The Corpse Vanishes, Carnival of Souls, Siren of the Tropics, Cobra Woman, Robot Monster, Zontar, the Thing From Space, Teenagers from Outerspace, KIller Shrews.
An interesting aspect of Godard's philosophy on filmmaking was his inherent and deliberate embrace of contradiction. In short, Godard used "mass-market" aesthetics in his film to make a statement about capitalism and consequent societal decline. This analysis can be closely reviewed in the book, The Films of Jean-Luc Godard: Seeing the invisible, by David Sterritt.
The danger is getting lost in fantasy, of being consumed by the lunar flame of lamplight filtered through celluloid. And the irony is that directors, the good ones, are already lost and have been for years.
Lord Byron: The crudest, savage exhibition of Nature at her worst without, and we three, we elegant three within. I should like to think that an irate Jehovah was pointing those arrows of lightning directly at my head, the unbowed head of George Gordon Lord Byron, England's greatest sinner. But I cannot flatter myself to that extent. Possibly those thunders are for dear Shelley - heaven's applause for England's greatest poet.
Shelley: What of my Mary?
Lord Byron: She is an angel.
Mary: You think so?
Lord Byron: Do you hear? Come, Mary. Come and watch the storm.
Mary: You know how lightning alarms me. Shelley darling, will you please light these candles for me?
Shelley: (laughing) Mary, darling.
Lord Byron: Astonishing creature.
Mary: I, Lord Byron?
Lord Byron: Frightened of thunder, fearful of the dark. And yet you have written a tale that sent my blood into icy creeps.
Mary: (giggling) Ha, ha, ha.
Lord Byron: Look at her Shelley. Can you believe that bland and lovely brow conceived of Frankenstein, a Monster created from cadavers out of rifled graves? Isn't it astonishing?
Mary: I don't know why you should think so. What do you expect? Such an audience needs something stronger than a pretty little love story. So why shouldn't I write of monsters?

Television:

Outer Limits, Twilight Zone, Dobie Gillis, Soupy Sales, Razzle Dazzle, Twin Peaks, I Married Joan, The Riverbank Adventure, The Hillbilly Bears, Beverly Hillbillys, Deputy Dawg, Precious Pup, Rifleman, Addams Family, Mush Mouse, Pete & Gladys, Cecil & Beeny, Wonderfalls, Diver Dan. ..

Books:

The Street of Crocodiles, Hunger, The Aleph and Other Stories, The Bloody Chamber, The Master & Margarita, Nightwood, Beauty and Sadness, Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, Maximus, Legends of the Fall, Ubu Roi, Moksha, Island, Candy, Poems from the Akashic Records, Soul on Ice, Song of the Dodo, Guide to Kulture, Push, Frankenstein, Hellscreen & other Stories, Selected Writing of Antonin Artaud, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Ulysses, Guide to Kultcher, Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death,Flatland, Naked Lunch, Phantom Tollbooth, Witzie Bat, Chasing Vermeer, Hope Against Hope, Perfume, Cities of the Red Night, Guitar Army, Illuminations (Rimbaud & Benjamin), Journey to the End of the Night, Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth, Moby Dick, Space is the Place, The Black Glove, Adios Muchachos, Gist of Origin, Hatred of Capitalism, Black Magic Poetry, Teaching at the Bauhaus, and Here to Go. Support the Revolution!, buy your books, curios and consumable accessories .. at: The Forbidden-Love Book Shak & Psychedelic Suicide Cave

HYMN TO PROSERPINE. (AFTER THE PROCLAMATION IN ROME OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH)Vicisti, Galilæe. I HAVE lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end; Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend. Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep; For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep. Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove; But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes or love. Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harpstring of gold, A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God to behold? I am sick of singing: the bays burn deep and chafe: I am fain To rest a little from praise and grievous pleasure and pain. For the Gods we know not of, who give us our daily breath, We know they are cruel as love or life, and lovely as death. O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day! From your wrath is the world released, redeemed from your chains, men say. New Gods are crowned in the city; their flowers have broken your rods; They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods. But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare; Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were. Time and the Gods are at strife; ye dwell in the midst thereof, Draining a little life from the barren breasts of love. I say to you, cease, take rest; yea, I say to you all, be at peace, Till the bitter milk of her breast and the barren bosom shall cease. Wilt thou yet take all, Galilean? but these thou shalt not take, The laurel, the palms and the pæan, the breasts of the nymphs in the brake; Breasts more soft than a dove's, that tremble with tenderer breath; And all the wings of the Loves, and all the joy before death; All the feet of the hours that sound as a single lyre, Dropped and deep in the flowers, with strings that flicker like fire. More than these wilt thou give, things fairer than all these things? Nay, for a little we live, and life hath mutable wings. A little while and we die; shall life not thrive as it may? For no man under the sky lives twice, outliving his day. And grief is a grievous thing, and a man hath enough of his tears: Why should he labour, and bring fresh grief to blacken his years? Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath; We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fulness of death. Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet for a day; But love grows bitter with treason, and laurel outlives not May. Sleep, shall we sleep after all? for the world is not sweet in the end; For the old faiths loosen and fall, the new years ruin and rend. Fate is a sea without shore, and the soul is a rock that abides; But her ears are vexed with the roar and her face with the foam of the tides. O lips that the live blood faints in, the leavings of racks and rods! O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of gibbeted Gods! Though all men abase them before you in spirit, and all knees bend, I kneel not neither adore you, but standing, look to the end. All delicate days and pleasant, all spirits and sorrows are cast Far out with the foam of the present that sweeps to the surf of the past: Where beyond the extreme sea-wall, and between the remote sea-gates, Waste water washes, and tall ships founder, and deep death waits: Where, mighty with deepening sides, clad about with the seas as with wings, And impelled of invisible tides, and fulfilled of unspeakable things, White-eyed and poisonous-finned, shark-toothed and serpentine-curled, Rolls, under the whitening wind of the future, the wave of the world. The depths stand naked in sunder behind it, the storms flee away; In the hollow before it the thunder is taken and snared as a prey; In its sides is the north-wind bound; and its salt is of all men's tears; With light of ruin, and sound of changes, and pulse of years: With travail of day after day, and with trouble of hour upon hour; And bitter as blood is the spray; and the crests are as fangs that devour: And its vapour and storm of its steam as the sighing of spirits to be; And its noise as the noise in a dream; and its depth as the roots of the sea: And the height of its heads as the height of the utmost stars of the air: And the ends of the earth at the might thereof tremble, and time is made bare. Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods? Will ye take her to chain her with chains, who is older than all ye Gods? All ye as a wind shall go by, as a fire shall ye pass and be past; Ye are Gods, and behold, ye shall die, and the waves be upon you at last. In the darkness of time, in the deeps of the years, in the changes of things, Ye shall sleep as a slain man sleeps, and the world shall forget you for kings. Though the feet of thine high priests tread where thy lords and our forefathers trod, Though these that were Gods are dead, and thou being dead art a God, Though before thee the throned Cytherean be fallen, and hidden her head, Yet thy kingdom shall pass, Galilean, thy dead shall go down to thee dead. Of the maiden thy mother men sing as a goddess with grace clad around; Thou art throned where another was king; where another was queen she is crowned. Yea, once we had sight of another: but now she is queen, say these. Not as thine, not as thine was our mother, a blossom of flowering seas, Clothed round with the world's desire as with raiment, and fair as the foam, And fleeter than kindled fire, and a goddess, and mother of Rome. For thine came pale and a maiden, and sister to sorrow; but ours, Her deep hair heavily laden with odour and colour of flowers, White rose of the rose-white water, a silver splendour, a flame, Bent down unto us that besought her, and earth grew sweet with her name. For thine came weeping, a slave among slaves, and rejected; but she Came flushed from the full-flushed wave, and imperial, her foot on the sea. And the wonderful waters knew her, the winds and the viewless ways, And the roses grew rosier, and bluer the sea-blue stream of the bays. Ye are fallen, our lords, by what token? we wist that ye should not fall. Ye were all so fair that are broken; and one more fair than ye all. But I turn to her still, having seen she shall surely abide in the end; Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend. O daughter of earth, of my mother, her crown and blossom of birth, I am also, I also, thy brother; I go as I came unto earth. In the night where thine eyes are as moons are in heaven, the night where thou art, Where the silence is more than all tunes, where sleep overflows from the heart, Where the poppies are sweet as the rose in our world, and the red rose is white, And the wind falls faint as it blows with the fume of the flowers of the night, And the murmur of spirits that sleep in the shadow of Gods from afar Grows dim in thine ears and deep as the deep dim soul of a star, In the sweet low light of thy face, under heavens untrod by the sun, Let my soul with their souls find place, and forget what is done and undone. Thou art more than the Gods who number the days of our temporal breath; For these give labour and slumber; but thou, Proserpina, death. Therefore now at thy feet I abide for a season in silence. I know I shall die as my fathers died, and sleep as they sleep; even so. For the glass of the years is brittle wherein we gaze for a span; A little soul for a little bears up this corpse which is man.* So long I endure, no longer; and laugh not again, neither weep. For there is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep. ~SWINBURNE, 1866 ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------
FUNNY THING AFTER the first police putsch on the cities information sources sorcerers & magician s UNI*Corpsed from psycho logical operations similar to those musically performed at well known rest resorts like Dachau & San Diego/ strange figures. rose from beneath the streets of medina marble & UNIFIED (gave me the first christmas ive had in years)new family of the sun i feel---- funny thinga dark winter night 5 years & finally the moon is setting on the whore eye zone/chicago poets do not understand my pottery/after 8 yrs writing & 4 yrs printing & being very poor & being romantic (only enuf to fill in the nothingness of being a poet in america)A PIONEER! (spelled peon)the years disapated & i havent anything except sum unbelievable beautiful friends with tears in their eyes & i havent anything to say my name is myself the pencil dead in my hand againhow is this connection made? ink - pencil suddenly sucking my brain cells dry - is it that i become in tune with the consciousness of the WRITING Tool?'it is when the ink starts spurting from the pen like sperm & the ecstasy moves upward between the eyes ORGASM i am beyond physical matter SENSATION i am beyond myself NOW who is this speaking from beyond the strings of this world? i hiding? (something from Cleveland) look there first i say to myself & LOOK & PUKE & unlike the city administration i cannot sweep it under the carpet & ask the federal govt. for helpi cannot even drive to hunting valley & watch the policemen deliver news- papersnext week tho, when the zipper on my levi's is fixed i'll put on my numbered dungaree shirt & go to Collinwoodburn incense at Five Points & buy Kumara's brother at Normsthat is, if im not arrested for some serious violation like enticing a minor to jaywalk. 1967
More d.a. levy secret poetry scrawl & collage artwerks visible at: d.a levy's Buddhist Third Class Junkmail Oracle
"In the depths of the mirror the evening landscape moved by, the mirror and the reflected figures like motion pictures superimposed one on the other. The figures and the background were unrelated, and yet the figures, transparent and intangible, and the background, dim in the gathering darkness, melted into a sort of symbolic world not of this world. Particularly when a light out in the mountains shone in the center of the girl's face, Shimamura felt his chest rise at the inexpressible beauty of it." (from The Snow Country) Yasunari Kawabata (1899-1972).
THE ELECTRONIC REVOLUTION
by William S. Burroughs
In the beginning was the word and the word was god and has remained one of the mysteries ever since. The word was God and the word was flesh we are told. In the beginning of what exactly was this beginning word? In the beginning of written history.
It is generally assumed that spoken word came before the written word. I suggest that the spoken word as we know it came after the written word. In the beginning was the word and the word was God and the word was flesh... human flesh... In the beginning of writing.
Animals talk and convey information but they do not write. They cannot make information available to future generations or to animals outside the range of their communication system. This is the crucial distinction between men and other animals. Writing.
orzybski, who developed the concept of General Semantics, the meaning of meaning, has pointed out this human distinction and described man as "the time binding animal." He can make information to other men over a length of time through writing. Animals talk. They don't write. Now a wise old rat may know a lot about traps and poison but he cannot write a text book on Death Traps in Your Warehouse for the Reader's Digest with tactics for ganging up on digs and ferrets and taking care of wise guys who stuff steel wool up our holes.
It is doubtful if the spoken word would have ever evolved beyond the animal stage without the written word. The written word is inferential in human speech. It would not occur to our wise old rat to assemble the young rats and pass his knowledge along in an aural tradition because the whole concept of time binding could not occur without the written word.
The written word is of course a symbol for something and in the case of hieroglyphic language writing like Egyptian it may be a symbol for itself that is a picture of what it represents. This is not true of an alphabet language like English. The word leg has no pictorial resemblance to a leg. It refers to the spoken word leg. So we may forget that a written word is an image and that written words are images in sequence that is to say moving pictures. So any hieroglyphic sequence gives us an immediate working definition for spoken words. Spoken words are verbal units that refer to this pictorial sequence.Read the complete text at: electronic revolution complete

Heroes:

Herman Melville, Jack Smith, Alfred Jarry, Andres Segovia, Jorge Luis Borges, Walter Benjamin, Bronson Alcott, Benjamin Franklin, Josephine Baker, Charles Fort, H.P. Blavatsky, Harry Clarke, Madame Mao, Lenore Fini, William Morris, Ira Cohen, Ray Johnson, Yves Klein , John Cage, Marx Brothers, Ganesh Baba , Marcel Duchamp, D.H. Levy, Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith, Man Ray, Baroness Elsa Von Loringhoven, Horace Pippin, Andre Breton, Pierre Toussaint L'Ouverture, William S. Burroughs, Diane Di Prima, Seldon Rodman, Tristan Tzara, Helen Adams, Sun Ra, Ezra Pound, Ira Cohen, Tadanori Yokoo, Max Ernst, Edward Gorey, Luisa Casati, Celine, Lewis Caroll, Frank Baum, William Blake, Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Rosa Parks, Dick Higgins, Bobby Seale, Nikki Giovanni, Gustav Moreau Billy Name Gordon Newton, Emma Goldman, Rosa Luxemburg, Johannes Itten, Moholy-Nagy, Walker Evans, Ben Shahn, Leni Sinclair, Robert Crumb, Stanley Mouse, Alice Bailey, John Sinclair, Basquiat, Gregory Corso, Diane Di Prima, Krazy Kat, William Gaines, Alfred Jarry, Brion Gysin, Peter Beard, David Lynch, Fela Kuti, Joseph Cornell, Vali Myers , Paul McCarthy, Andre Kertesz, Timothy Leary, Ed Sanders, Osip Mandelstam, Marina Tsvetaeva, Anna Akhmatova, Guy Dubord, Boris Vian, Wallace Berman, Mallarme, Octavia Butler, Kawabata, Abbie Hoffman, George Maciunas, Maya Deren, Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawking, Fred Holland Day, Antonin Artaud, Jon Hendricks, Alfred Steiglitz, Diego Rivera, Leon Trotsky, Dorthea Tanning, Frida Kahlo, Robert Frank, Tatlin, Houdini, Erik Satie, Edgar Varese, John Cage, Weegee, Lisette Model, Sylvia Beach, Jeffrey Silverthorne, Cay Bahnmiller, Mike Kelley, Jim Shaw, Cameron Jamie, Savage Pencil, Art Spiegelman, Ed Wood, Larry Buchanan, Chris Ware, Gary Panter, Akira Kurosawa, Edgar Allen Poe, 3 Stooges.
Amazing Freaks of the Motor City
Ain't I A Woman?
Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?
Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?
Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.
If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.
Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.
Check in with the Buggers and: BUGGER THE SHAM!
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