#Beatnik and Christian Philosophy

[penhive]

Assorted

Godtuition

Godtuition comes from God and Intuition. Let me use an example: how it happens: every time when my money gets low, I am able to get money from unexpected sources. Another family friend of mine had a terrible car accident in which he and his wife had a narrow escape. I and my wife went to visit them in their home. To our surprise, there was a Pastor and his wife there praying. When I asked him whether he came because the friend had told him, he replied that God spoke to him to come and visit their house. Later when the pastor’s wife started praying, she started praying for us and to our surprise she started praying for our business, a school to improve and the surprising thing is that: she and the Pastor did not know us. So I believe God works through people, situations and experiences to bless and help us and that I call as Godtuition.

Dasein and Apologetics

Dasein is a German word introduced into Philosophy by Heidegger. Dasein literally means being there and in my words, Dasein is the presence of being. Let me use Dasein from the view point of Christian Apologetics. Christ the messiah came to earth as the presence of meaning, and took himself on the cross as presence to bear humanity’s sin and resurrected for our sake as the celebration of presence to celebrate life on this earth and eternity. Using Heidegger’s Dasien I say that Christ is the being presence of meaning for the celebration of life on this earth.

Beatnik and Christian Philosophy

Beatnik and counter culture are a prominent terms that was popularly prevalent in the 1970’s. Beatniks like Allen Ginsberg the poet became psychically involved with Eastern Religions, libidinal freedom (Ginsberg was Gay), use of drugs and so on. Unlike the Beatniks of the 70’s I am a Christian Beatnik and I celebrate life’s meaning to fullest of my will. As a Beatnik, I withdraw from Social Media and live a Christian life as a Bohemian. I free myself from the Nihilism of the Devil and I saturate my life with invocations to God for living an optimistic and useful life. As a Beatnik I celebrate the presence of meaning and declare that the choices that I make are God given, and God centered and that make my choices a privilege.

Dreams

I had two dreams recently and they were a car and friends. These dreams could suggest that I am travelling and my life goals are taking a new turn.

Einsoph and the Sephiroth and Apologetics

Einsof and the Sephiroth come from Jewish Cabala and Einsof means infinite and Sephiroth are the emanations of the infinite. These two terms became popular in literature and fiction after Umberto Eco published his novel Foucault’s Pendulum. For me Einsoph is God Jehovah Jesus and the Sephiroth are his divine attributes and they are: love, peace, grace, wisdom, kindness, tolerance, forgiveness, providence, and care.

The Scarecrow

I had a chance to see a scarecrow while I was traveling. It was hanging on a trunk with a pot was face and hay as the body, and it was also covered with a shirt and a trouser. Birds were peeing and shitting on him. The scarecrow was put on newly constructed houses as an omen to ward off the evil eye.

Mannequin

Recently I saw a mannequin being dressed. It was a she. I could see the outline of her body. She has well rounded breasts, wavy hips and sumptuous pubis. I am wondering if a mannequin in real life would submit to me.

[seasideretreat]

Schopenhauer and Jazz

Schopenhauer was a bit autistic, but this is because he lived in a world that was still divided religiously: he sought to escape the impasse by utilizing the Upanishads. We have transcended religion, kind of. We now employ religion, but we also believe in science. When we read the Bible, we have to say something; when we read the sutras, we have to be still. But with the new beatnik aesthetic, well, I suppose we're still a bit crazy, but we can predicate. Jack Kerouac would go on endlessly about his method for writing. Schopenhauer was probably the best writer who ever lived. And ever will live. But more than that, he was an example for us in life. I was told Jack Kerouac really was just some silly dude. Nevertheless, I find On the Road to be attractive, because I know it took the division of science very literally and then tried to use Jazz to forge an identity out of it; truly, Beatnikism was a bane on American society, and we can also see that Jack Kerouac himself didn't really care too much for it. But Kerouac really wasn't an intellectual, more of an oracle, and we don't have to follow his example in anything. Better not, since he drank too much.

Really, my aim is to write in an entertaining way, and that's really hard considering so much of the writing in the world is Judeo-Christian in nature. That's why the English-speaking world is so proficient academically. I want to say things that have a universal appeal, but I also want to have a nice life. The problem with Schopenhauer is that he couldn't think on his feet. He was a beautiful human being, he lived a really full life, living every day like it was his last. Yet he had to think about his book all the time, which is why he was so irritable - and his book is almost perfect in its metaphysical sophistication; but the beat-movement managed to synthesize the post-Schopenhauerian world in something that, in implying Buddhism and Christianity, created a truly modern religion, but the thing is that it all became about Jazz. I believe, therefore, that we have to go back to Schopenhauer, taking his example of transcending religion in writing, but not becoming semitic. You know, Jack Kerouac was really inspired by James Joyce, and James Joyce to me really embodies the man without a thing, you know, the man who truly "just writes". But Schopenhauer was really close to this perhaps, because he accomodated his bourgeois life by reading the Upanishads. Now I do the same thing by reading Jack Kerouac, but this is not true relaxation, it is searching and not finding, it is a disorder. However, I of course could quote Jack Kerouac here on the people who are mad to talk, because I really do kind of believe that the world doesn't really change all that much - I mean, if I didn't have the newspaper, maybe I would do yoga in the mornings, it is not the end of the world. But this is the thing: we do have the newspaper and we do have Jack Kerouac, so we should have this method, even though it might rob something of its religious unity, but there never was a religious unity - it is all control and Kerouac moved beyond this. I don't want to be a beatnik, I just want to make sense, and I understand religion and I understand that these spiritual truths are contained, partially, in spiritual texts, and On the Road is such a text. Still, this is only because we like the aesthetic of beatnikism. We are truly mad to talk.

Generally, we cannot understand philosophy. We cannot understand the newspaper.

[kevrocksicehouse]

Ewan McGregor has been the least dour Scotsman for 50 years today. A few of his star turns:

Mark Renton in Trainspotting. D: Danny Boyle (1996). The pungency of Irvine Welsh’s novel and Danny Boyles hyperkinetic direction aside, McGregor’s star charisma is what keeps this mordantly comic story about spiraling junkies circling their own drain from being a depressive bore.  As a tour guide to the life of a heroin addict “I choose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?” the Edinburgh underground including the “worst toilet in Scotland (into which he’ll dive to retrieve opium suppositories), and the friends he’ll ultimately double cross, because they’d do the same to him. And however grim the story gets as it goes along (Renton never really gets over the dead baby) we never turn away from McGregor’s breakthrough performance. He’s a junkie with a million-dollar smile that never stops choosing life.

Christian in Moulin Rouge! D: Baz Luhrmann (2001). Luhrmann cast McGregor as a poet who has come to Paris to join “The Bohemian Revolution” and write about “truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things: love” and had him express his poetry by singing “The Hills are aliiiiive/ With the sound of muuuuusic.” A ridiculous notion but the actor, eyes shining with idealistic fervor nails it, hitting the exact tone between a parody of screen romanticism and the real thing.  And when he serenades the courtesan singer Satine (Nicole Kidman) with Elton John’s “Your Song,” he fills it with a utopian passion that even Elton was too cool to show and makes it irresistibly delirious. When you see a stage moon with a face, singing along with Placido Domingo’s voice it makes all the sense in the world.

Catcher Block in Down With Love. D: Peyton Reed (2013). In another pop culture pastiche, this time of the Doris Day/Rock Hudson comedies of the late 50s and early 60s, McGregor is a  magazine writer and a distillation of “The playboy philosophy” who clashes with an up-and-coming author (Renee Zellweger) touting a protofeminist “Down With Love” doctrine. He puts just enough quotation marks around his lothario (A beatnik girl tells him “I mourn you because you are shrouded in the suit and tie that Madison will bury you in alive.” “Well, if it will cheer you up, you can help me out of it.”). And when all is resolved an love triumphs, his duet with Zellweger on “Let’s Hear it for Love” is one of the best post-credits scene since Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin in Carl Reiner’s “All of Me.”

[flamingcraniumb]

From a 9 year old girl in foster care, about to hit the double digits. An unwritten rule amongst the outcast kids was once you became a preteen that you wouldn't get adopted. I didn't know my biological family, they were a mystery to me then. So the only details I had about the world was my art and knowledge from books. I would practice my handwriting obsessively, read a galore of folktales from King Athurs time and for some awesome reason my foster parents had so many boxes of National Geographic. I thought, okay art and culture is my family. This isn't everything I wanted but I will know love, all kinds of it. Fortunately this would cultivate me more than the overbearing Christianity my foster parents ruled us kids with.

Then I met her, I'm sure you've heard on all my birthdays before, on her birthday and of course Mothers Day. The angel with the golden afternoon light shining in on her genuine eyes and smile. I've felt so guilty for the childhood trauma she had to work through with me, just wanting a daughter but getting all the wounds that came with getting a foster child. I was damaged but she saw through that. She saw the eccentric girl who wanted to have fancy tea parties, use up all her disposable cameras and she always fed my appetite for reading.

When my parents adopted me, they moved me away from a suburb outside of Kansas City, over 5 hours into the country of Missouri. Completely different dynamic socially and economically. I didn't fit in, not just because of my inability to understand current pop culture references or most social cues, but the kids here have such anger. Most of the artists here grow up and move away to the bigger cities in the state, or move away entirely.

So I just avoided most of the kids around here, which proved very hard and resulted in more trauma I've had to work through. Instead I became best friends with my Mom. I fell in love with having a family. We had a canoe rental, cows and a good plot of land to take care of. We lived up the hill from the river, went swimming all the time and I helped with all the chores I could do. I enjoy labor and you still get the peace to do your own thing after the day is done.

If I squinted my eyes just right. Focused them in on climbing trees, listening to Michelle Branch on my cd player and waiting for my Mom to holler for me to come in for supper..everything would be perfect. Unfortunately high-school arrived, family heartbreak appeared and my Life would skip a few nauseous beats again. Mom would get busy with taking care of my Dad more, as his health started going downhill. I'd start going to school with my Mom, who taught in a bigger town than where our little post office town was. I'd try to make friends there but heartache and obscene abuse would define those chapters. I'd stick around to try to graduate but run away 2 weeks before my graduation.

I hated the ache in my heart when I watched my Mom hold back tears as she said goodbye to me at the airport. I'd met an artsy, filmmaker on the internet, who lived in South Carolina. He and I had been talking for over a year. Young Sylvia just wanted to leave, be around other artists but she was so, so naive. The ebb and flow over the next couple of years was chaotic. She did meet Clementine though, who was the most alike to her than anyone she'd ever met. They slipped in and out of each other's lives though. They were both figuring a lot out about themselves and others. They'd inspire each other deeply but also allow their hurt to lash out as well.

I got lost. For awhile. It wouldn't be the only time this happened. I just wasn't sure who I was, who I wanted to be, where it felt like home. Was there even a place that was home? I didn't mind traveling, in fact I'd fallen in love with it. I didn't want to be alone though, so I kept trying to find good company. Then I met Bob Damnit. He loved my work. Introduced me to all the beatniks books, had grand discussions on many of life's philosophies and traveled. He tried to help me take advantage if journalistic opportunities while my best friend Clementine would do wondrous photoshoots with me, then at night have poetry readings. I once again had that perfect view and this time I didn't need to squint.

I didn't find a journalistic job that would continue this journey, instead I would rekindle a friendship with a fellow writer. He'd decided to join the circus. He invited me to New York to perform but at the time it seemed too romantic an endeavor. I'll admit Charleston was the biggest city I'd become accustomed to and NY seemed intimidating. Instead I started a fling with a different artist fellow. He played music and I was interested in learning new talents. We attempted to start a band and went on a commune research tour. Unfortunately he was abusive and possessive..too common a theme in my Life. This time I didn't pick the next chapter, he picked me. I became the Mother to Oliver James.

I was determined to not only be a good mother but also prove that I could multi task as an artist still. I'd strap on my baby in a carrier, grab my camera, bags of clothes, and finally sling my tripod over a shoulder last. Then myself and whoever my dear model was would head off to the ocean for an adventurous photoshoot. I worked at the local grocery store/deli by morning and by mid afternoon I would be off with Oliver on some artistic endeavor. Hanging out with my coworkers, hippies, surfers, doing yoga, listening to local music and writing the nights away.

Alas I had to leave again. My circus friend was now on tour and would settle in Arizona at the end of it. I hadn't found work in the art field yet, was craving the travel and needed more to fill my soul. So Oliver and I packed up to join the circus. We did enjoy ourselves performing, seeing all the way to California and meeting brilliant people. My stories are just always tainted with injustice, which I've tried to only hint at. That would fill this story more than I would like and should be it's own piece of work. Long chapter short, our circus friends just wanted our money and not a family as they had lead me to believe. Luckily Oliver was too young to understand this.

For now you should know that I never give up. I attempted to start art college for film and digital media. I'd begun doing less photography and experimenting with video editing and short artsy fartsy films. Please don't say unfortunately again but I have to, I didn't make much money and I couldn't afford childcare. My dear friend Bob, oh my dear friend. I don't want to make this story too depressing. I lost him though. I tried to start college to honor him but everything just kept falling apart and I was lost again. I got lost for a lot longer this time. I focused on Oliver, making sure we always did explorations and I made my art. Hoping I'd be inspired as to what I should do next.

I thought maybe I'm too eccentric. Maybe I should settle down. So I tried to do that a couple times, causing myself more heartache and grief. I thought to myself, as long as I'm making art then I'm still alive. I'm really glad I did that, even if it didn't feel fun sometimes or like it was any good. Then finally, FINALLY something popped. Like a muscle I'd finally started stretching. I was sick of it. I needed my soul back but how to get it? So I got healthy again, stopped lying to myself about how I've been hurt and decided it was time to make a new plan.

Then Mom got cancer. So here I am. I actually feel like when Life has chosen for me, it's been better. Im definitely not saying that I want my Mom to have cancer, cause this has been so hard on her and the rest of us. I needed to be home again though. Reevaluate from a humble space. Reconnect with my childhood friend Jesse and finally find true love with an authentic soul. To let my fire burst confidently, without anyone to try to contain it. My Life has been tragic. My life has been beautiful. Messy and human, I've failed and hurt the ones I love. I've been abused emotionally and physically. I've rose to the top to catch my breath frequently but now I've crawled out to find a nook for me and my family.

I don't expect all of my 30s will be perfect, nor my 40s and possibly so on. I'm just content that I have good people on my side and my confidence brightens as I walk into the less unknown future. I'm eccentric. I'm weird. I'm traumatized but healing. I know who I am though and noone can slice me down anymore. Which leaves even more time and focus for my family and art. Cheers to another year around the sun.

[ecogoth1]

so I guess it's up to one of the last hippies or last beatnik are the last person who knew about real energy it's rain by many spiritual teachers find kinda got monk status going here .. so you can learn a lot from real Christians the Christians Need to learn from the Buddhist honestly I think every person to worship God and learn a lot from the Buddhist philosophies the Hari krishnas are these people help more people than anybody else I just don't talk about it especially on the street difference between them and every other organization it's a lie people with their dignity and treat them like human beings no matter what their statured in life may be because there is no shame in being homeless or disabled or veteran people can't treat people like that with respect even their grandparents. then there's a problem in the world I don't care if you're a CEO of a company your president of the United States are you're a ruler or dictator or some other country or . a king I care about your actions and I care about what stories you have and are you honoring the people that loved you. and I still may be a prince trace my one of my last names but you know what if I am a prince I would give up my throne and I named am I Lord to make sure that this world was a better place and people started acting like real human beings . we were commissioned a long time ago to take care of God's garden and everything within it I don't see that happening very well especially where I live and where you live and all over the world how does everything you're doing make our world better how are you making the world better today are you making the world better in an hour are you making the world better at night time are you still afraid and I'm afraid to even talk to your neighbors that tract homes are nothing but wrapping paper if you don't believe me take the drywall off and you can tell. https://www.instagram.com/p/BxN4P2SHQFi/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=q7b3mud96roa

[micaramel]

Artist: Egan Frantz

Venue: Neuer Aachener Kunstverein, Aachen

Exhibition Title: Paintings

Date: March 17 – May 5, 2019

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release, and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of Neuer Aachener Kunstverein, Aachen

Press Release:

“I’m happiest when I’ve pushed the boat out so far I can wonder if it’s even mine anymore. This is important… getting the work to a place where it isn’t “me” any longer. As in, “Did I make THAT? It doesn’t look like me, it doesn’t have my signature habits… where did that come from? OK, GOOD!”

NAK Neuer Aachener Kunstverein is pleased to present new paintings by American artist Egan Frantz. The exhibition, entitled Paintings will run from 17 March through 05 May 2019.

Egan Frantz’s oeuvre encompasses an extensive variety of media including sculpture, installation, furniture design, and printed matter in addition to the traditional painted canvas or variations on that format. For Paintings at NAK, the artist has focused solely on the latter, engaging painting as painting can, with an extraordinary openness, even faith, in its ends.

Every picture tells a story — both of its physical making and intellectually complex journey belied in conjunction with often humorous titles that point to the artists aspirations, inspirations, and long standing themes. Consider, Where I’m wrong the work is right, an energetic painting featuring Frantz’s signature forms, blocks or agglomerations of 3 1/2 inch brush strokes, forced into a vibrating field of black and white stripes as if held up by an abstract armature — the colors yellow, pink, and green. The title, a 1965 quote from the American poet Jack Spicer, summated the poet’s devotion to dictation against the creation myths of artistic genius, which had finally gone too far in Beatnik era San Francisco with the wild one’s, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Like the best philosophy of ancient Greece or the poetry of circumstance, painting is, for Frantz, best suited to follow wherever painting leads, even if that place is not where the artist wants it to go.

In the book of the post avant-garde, Frantz is painting the transformative chapter on post rational painting: Yes, any painting which is any good looks strange in the beginning — bad ones too!, comes to the defense of analogizing’s weakness. No, I don’t care why I painted a cemetery, offers a different kind of double negation: the large format, Christian graveyard scene rendered in a spiritual strain of turn of the century non-objective art is both quasi-representational and quasi-abstract. A small crucifix is planted on a hill, clearly in the scene, but a large cruciform is painted on the scene. The mind must traverse in and out of the field of representation to see this painting but this disjunction is, somehow, its source of harmony too. A bright white moon is licked by a yellow flame, someone deceased is remembered, and the brush goes down, up, left, and right.

Fire makes its appearance again and again in the exhibition, but the artist is first to admit that he doesn’t know why. In a recent interview Frantz said:

I’m happiest when I’ve pushed the boat out so far I can wonder if it’s even mine anymore. This is important… getting the work to a place where it isn’t “me” any longer. As in, “Did I make THAT? It doesn’t look like me, it doesn’t have my signature habits… where did that come from? OK, GOOD!”

So, painting after painting, or accumulation after accumulation as witnessed in One is plenty, two is too many, and three is not enough, we find the key to the canvases of this exhibition. An idiomatic joke about drinking too much can extend into the problems of painting, installation strategies, as well as the meanings we ascribe this activity. Like a good joke, and because it’s no fun to describe a joke away, Frantz’s favoring of not knowing over creative surety ensures his audience a tax free enjoyment — post smart-ass intention.

Van Der [sic], likewise, the largest and most spacious painting in the exhibition, suggests an empty signifier asking to be decoded — of the [?] — but to what end? It is known that Mies van der Rohe, a native of Aachen, added “van der” to his name to impress his future father in law. Rohe was his mother’s name, and, it seemed to him that being from somewhere looked and sounded better than just being. It worked for him. The signifier for Frantz, the “Rohe” to his “van der” as it were, or the question of where these paintings come from, if they truly are not a form self expression is left very much empty. He doesn’t care why he painted a cemetery or where he’s coming from but for the forms as they are and as they come. Amidst sandy planes and wet washes of vermillion and Caribbean blue, Frantz situates his forms in Van Der [sic’] with the kind of care and sensuality we can only associate with a love for painting — and that is not a joke.

Egan Frantz (1986) has had solo exhibitions at Galerie Nagel Draxler, Berlin and Cologne; Miguel Abreu Gallery, New York; C L E A R I N G, New York; Tomorrow Gallery, Toronto; Roberts Projects, Los Angeles; Tilton Gallery, New York; Michael Jon Gallery, Miami; and Fused Space, San Francisco. In September 2019, a forthcoming solo exhibition of the artist’s work will be held at Team Gallery, New York. Amongst many others, Frantz has been included in group exhibitions at Essl Museum, Vienna; The Emily Harvey Foundation, New York; Andrew Roth, New York; James Fuentes, New York; and Bahamas Biennale, Detroit. Frantz lives and works in Brooklyn, New York and Connecticut.

Link: Egan Frantz at Neuer Aachener Kunstverein

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from Contemporary Art Daily http://bit.ly/2VIQrdB

[penhive]

Journal Dated September 15th 2023

Sun light clinked cheers through the slit of the wall. I am introducing porngasm (from porn and orgasm) and it’s a pleasure of watching porn. Also there is pornphoria (from porn and euphoria) and also porntasy (from porn and ecstasy). A kiss is the language of flowers. Another term that I have made is clitorotatics (from clitoris and tactics). I am reading Russell’s History of Western Philosophy and I am fascinated by the Greek culture that espoused orgiastic, drunken, bacchanalian revelry. The cult of ecstasy is so carnal and sensual. Their mental state is one of orgasmosophy (from orgasm and philosophy). I am still hooked on to travelogues and since I don’t have the resources and I am window travelling. I am longing for the nights of drunkenness and sex. Yes I am a creative beatnik. Do all the cherubs created in art match those whom God created? The highest form of awareness is realization. In order to write one must read books. But I don’t read books fully and it’s a habit that I should discard. Literature is a painting of words. Legend has to shift from the status of a celebrity to self-actualization.  I am longing to escape the cycle of being broke. My wallet has to become the Houdini of money. The prodigal life is interesting and challenging. I won’t like the prodigal son squander my resources but invest them wisely. Kafka marooned the mind into an abject depression. Flesh fornicates in sin and is carnal and earthly. Mutiny  is the angst with the cannon of optimism. A fart made a faaaaaaaaaaaaaatr sound. Grass smiled at me in Green happiness. I am a mix of Prometheus and Prospero. I would love to eat the colors of the sun.  I am living life to love it. My existential philosophy is life is the celebration of meaning. Pot, Booze and Sex are cravings for the flesh. There is nothing noble about me. Whoever gives me love I double it in return. I am sad that my teenage lover ditched me. I am a staunch Christian and yes I have messed up my life but God still loves me. I am honored to be loved by God. I wish I am winning windfall bonanzas. Let travel be a muse that gives my opportunity. My philosophy of sex is sexistianlism  (from sex and existentialism). I wish to visit all the art galleries of the world. Art has given me more experience than reading. Reading is Kafkaesque. Poetry is the rhythm of life. Let the muse be my writing companion. My son was reading the Bible passage where Jesus was baptized by John. What struck me was when Jesus was baptized, the heavens opened and a dove descended upon Jesus and the heavenly voice uttered: this is my son whom I am well pleased. This phenomenon can be called as beatific aesthetics. There is a principals conference and I have begged my wife to take me. The reason is not my inclination to attend the conference but with the privacy, I can make love. I am a guy who did not have a honeymoon as when I was being married my father was fully in debt.

[penhive]

Epigraphs

Woe is the dark room of misery.

Feeling is a rainbow will waiting to flower.

Writing is the undressing of a woman.

Subdue the tempests that rage in the heart.

Sometimes mind can be a negative prison.

Death is shit after orgasm.

Weed is a flower of meaning.

Love is a poem that embraces the heart.

I wish to be an Epicurean dandy.

Nietzsche by killing God suffered madness.

Philosophy is a sticky glue of ideas.

Will is a thought to plant.

Grace is an echo of the love of God.

Sin and temptation are a Christian carnival of forgiveness.

Go easy on the self.

Money is a lucky talisman filling the wallet.

My ego is null before God.

Peace is a journey within.

Take care of your soul as a gift.

Magi are a gift of providence.

Life is poetry lived.

Time does not heal the scars of the soul.

Even the moon has light at night.

Where is the sun shining in you?

Painters speak in figures.

Poets blossom as figures of speech.

Irony is a machine to comfort the mind.

Wisdom is the mind having thoughts of individuality.

Women are bitter fruits of poetry.

Self is the soul that rejuvenates itself with every mental assassination.

Poetry is the feeling of words.

I am a Richard Bach of happiness and Jonathan Sea Gull lives in me as mirth.

A woman has to be loved not analyzed.

Karma is a bitch of choice.

I am a proud beatnik.

Take care of yourself before it becomes sick.

If poets were rulers of the world, the world would have been a better place.

When reality bites, it’s a  bitter pill to swallow.

I embrace the nectar of words.

The muse has to become a passion of creative life.

The self is magic to makes wishes come true.

May the cup of wellness overflow in you.

Nature is a beautiful machine.

The soul of poet is a heart of love.

Smoking is fun and frolic.

Weed is glee for the body.

Love me not for what I have.

A lover who loves your money is a slut.

Horoscopes are death for the soul.

Be a muse of passion.

The freedom of choice is either happiness or a misery.

If you love it it comes to you, if not set it free.

Jesus is man and God.

Sex has to be a bed of poetry.

Meditation is an act of getting horny.

I am a devotee of SAD, Sex, Alcohol and Drugs.

Dreams make the future into a reality.

Genuine love is the hardest thing to find.

Angst you make me laugh in irony.

It is difficult to turn the other cheek when someone hurts you.

Desire as Buddha said is not the root cause of misery but desire is the fruit of all happiness.

Authenticate your individuality.

The will is an imaginary bridge to be treaded with optimism.

A writer is a painter of words.

Sloth is a body resting on a hammock.

Happiness is the self within.

Death is the sedative of eternity.

The body is a shout of glee succumbing to passion.

Lived time is an experience to fathom.

Life is a muse of experiences.

Forgive the self for making wrong choices.

[penhive]

Rhetorical Analysis of the Sign

It was Ferdinand Saussure the French structuralist and philosopher who introduced the concept of the sign into mainstream literature and philosophy.

Now what is the sign according to him? For Saussure a sign has two parts, the signifier and the signified. The signifier is a visual, tangible element and the signified is an idea. Now let’s look at some examples. Ukraine faces the situation of war leading to terror and destruction. Here Ukraine is the signifier and terror and destruction the signified. The proselytization of people to Christianity in India leads to hatred and degradation of Christianity by people of other faiths. Here proselytization is the signifier and the hatred and degradation the signified.

I would like to break down the concept of the Saussureian sign and its signifier and the signified into two parts and they are as follows: the signified of the sign belongs to the realm of transcendental paradigm and the signified belongs to the realm of the archaeology of realism. Thus the components of the signified are transcendental paradigm and the concept of signifier belongs to hierarchy of the archaeology of realism.

Now what is transcendental paradigm?  It relates to the idea immanence of orthodoxy. The signified as the bourgeoisie of transcendental paradigm becomes a linguistic term to unify concepts as holistic entities. The signified as a transcendental paradigm acquires quasi, subjective mytho-poetic trope. The transcendental paradigm succumbs meaning to the manufacture of mytho-poetical spirituality.

Now what is the signifier and its relation to the archaeology of realism?  The signifier as concept in the archaeology of realism relates to the formative concepts found in most disciplines like Literature, Philosophy, Art, and Linguistics and so on. The archaeology of realism rests on the superannuation of oligarchic materiality found in the physical tangibility of mundanity.

Now let’s look at how the signified as a transcendental paradigm and the signifier as the archaeology of realism work in various disciplines.

Political and Socio-cultural and Historical

In the socio-cultural realm, the signified as a transcendental paradigm and the signifier as an archaeology of realism work in ways that depict the cultural moorings of the society. The sign becomes a unification of gross materiality with a super imposition of culturally connotative spirituality. Let’s look at some examples. Jazz is connotative of black culture. Here Jazz is the signifier and belongs to the realm of the archaeology of realism and black culture is the signified and belongs to the choice of transcendental realism. Another example would be the Beatniks who campaigned for the prevention of war in Vietnam. Here the Beatniks becomes the signifier of the archaeology of realism and the prevention of war becomes an ingredient of the signified as transcendental paradigm.

Now let’s look at how the sign and its conceptuality as signifier (archaeology of realism) and the signified (transcendental paradigm) work in the discipline of philosophy and aesthetics. I would like to propound three concepts first the Plato’s allegory of the cave, then Nietzsche’s theory of art and then Hegel’s concept of dialectics.

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave

In Plato’s allegory of the cave, there are hordes of people imprisoned in a cave and reaching out to the periphery from which a bright light is emanating. What Plato meant was there was an ideal world beyond the existence of the sensible world. Here the sensible world, the world of the senses can be represented as the signifier incorporating the archaeology of realism and the ideal world can be interpreted as the signifier encapsulating the transcendental paradigm. Yes, the signified is heavenly as a nurturing concept and the signifier is earthly as nourishing concept.

Now let’s look at Nietzsche’s theory of art. Art for Nietzsche occurs as synthesis between the Dionysian and the Apollonian. The Dionysian element of art is the beat and rhythm and the Apollonian element of art is harmony and melody. In Nietzsche’s theory of Art the rhythm and beat and harmony and melody are signifiers and they form the locus of the archaeology of realism. The Greek Gods, Dionysus and Apollo are the signified and they become enumerative as transcendental paradigm.

Now let’s look at Hegel’s concept of dialectics. For Hegel a philosophic proposition should have a thesis, followed by an antithesis and then a synthesis.  Let’s take World War II as an example: the thesis for World War II is the humiliating treaty of Versailles and the antithesis the rise of Nazism and Hitler and the synthesis the Jewish holocaust.  Here the signifiers at work are War, Hitler’s rise to power, and the Holocaust and the signified are the Humiliation, Revenge and Anti-Semitism. The signifiers become the concept of the archaeology of realism and the signified becomes the transcendental paradigm.

To conclude I would like to say: that the Saussurean sign and its signifier and the signified can be broken down into the topology of transcendental paradigm and the archaeology of realism.