My Tumblr Dashboard
1) Anime character did anime thing
2) White men are dumb
4) PRAISE THE DARK LORD AND/OR ODIN
5) Additional Goat
A hit pop song is sweeping Central America, called “La Bestia.” It’s about a freight train that migrants often brave from South Mexico up to the US border, with the hopes of crossing - often illegally. People are kidnapped, raped, robbed, and murdered on the train. The song warns of the dangers of taking the train to illegally emigrate. Like most pop songs, it’s completely manufactured. Unlike most pop songs, it’s manufactured by the US government. More specifically, it’s part of US Customs and Border Protection’s Dangers Awareness Campaign, and it was commissioned to deter South Americans from making the trek to the US border. The Resident discusses how pop songs are all kind of “prop” songs in the end.
USA: Creepiest nation on Earth?
I haven’t researched to confirm if this is true in this particular case, but I’d be surprised if it wasn’t, after the Jackson Pollock CIA Incident (which is my new punk band)
Tim Taylor - Domestic Erosion, 2003
I like how dry air has a completly different pattern than wet steam vapor. it really shows physical and chemical interaction well
I need a moment.
While I couldn’t have imagined just how beautiful and wonderful and open-hearted everyone at the PLC were going to be, it wasn’t the most surprising aspect for me. Instead, it was how the topic of the Dead seemed on everyone’s lips. Not solely ancestor work either, but troubled dead, Gods of the dead, entering people’s lives, requiring their attention.
For most of those I discussed this with, the non-ancestral dead hadn’t been an area of much interest for them, and it’s not something that I see discussed much by polytheists online.
Last week, Gordon mentioned a rising Anglophone awareness of cults like Quimbanda and Palo, as well as S. Cyprian, with the insinuation that this is being encouraged from the Other Side. What goes unsaid is the relationship with necromancy these Creole religions and Saint each share. Likewise, John Michael Greer points out that death cults are a regular development alongside the collapse of empires. To my reading, he always seems to imply that this is an expression of despair among the living which didn’t sit well with me, and it’s becoming clear that they arise just as much to meet the needs of the dead.
Speaking with a fellow Verum practitioner, Mozlilzom, we shared how the demands of the dead have been increasing in each of our practices, various technical matters. In a segue, the topic of Apocalyptic Witchcraft was touched on. I confided how much despair I was feeling, by the extent of ecological devastation that is written before us, so much life that we are witnessing the passing of.
In response to that, M shared in sympathy that he believes that is why so many of us are emerging to fill the role of goes, right now. All of these lives, ecosystems, ways of being in the world, are passing away, and they need to be mourned properly. We are called to witness, and to mourn.
EDIT: I don’t think death cults exist due to the despair.
I think what the dead have to tell us, what they have always told us, is that we can survive the End of Empire.
yeah seriously tell us how wizardry’s done in the new world tell me how the wizards from france and spain and britain stamped out the brujos and the medicine men and set up their own schools tell me what the fuck the british raj did to fucking india because the patel twins are going to school in scotland and what are they told about their history, tell me about native american kids learning to say wingardium leviosa with hate in their hearts and tell me about wizarding rabbis bickering about whether you can use potions on the sabbath tell me about the slaves on their ships with their wands broken, mouthing curses in the dark tell me about the runaways that made it with garter snakes wrapped around their wrists that told them when they tasted dogs in the distance, tell me about the underground railroad and abolitionists with unbreakable vows and home-spun invisibility cloaks and disilusionments, using obliviate, using imperio, knowing that they served a higher justice, tell me about what happened to black wizards in the fifties, about what gates they were storming in the sixties tell me about queer wizards taking love potions every morning in their coffee to stay married to their husbands and their wives because what else could they do?
the world only begins and ends with straight white christians if you don’t bother looking any farther than that and too many people don’t and i am tired, tired, tired
the new—in other words, difference—calls forth forces in thought which are not the forces of recognition, today or tomorrow, but the powers of a completely other model, from an unrecognised and...
“the new—in other words, difference—calls forth forces in thought which are not the forces of recognition, today or tomorrow, but the powers of a completely other model, from an unrecognised and unrecognisable terra incognita.”
— Gilles Deleuze - Difference and Repetition (via mytheatreofcruelty)
M..immm HMO i
No Mk Mk
Did you know it was possible to pocket reblog from your phone and type a bunch of random shit without knowing it?
You do now.
I am a special snowflake.
Evening Post: August 12, 1899.
"She immediately alighted, caught hold of the astonished youth, and gave him a sound thrashing, using her fists in a scientific fashion…”
I would love to know what this means.
I think that might be code for “punched him in the balls with devastating accuracy”.
I realize this may be jokesplaining, but:
During that time period there was a sort of cult of physicality around the martial arts, to the point where many western practitioners were trying to optimize the “science” of things like boxing. So I think what it’s saying is “she hit him as though she was a professional boxer.”
Feel free to remove my text if I’ve ruined the joke. It’s an awesome post either way.
the new—in other words, difference—calls forth forces in thought which are not the forces of recognition, today or tomorrow, but the powers of a completely other model, from an unrecognised and unrecognisable terra incognita.
A British company has produced a “strange, alien” material so black that it absorbs all but 0.035 per cent of visual light, setting a new world record. To stare at the “super black” coating made of carbon nanotubes – each 10,000 times thinner than a human hair – is an odd experience. It is so dark that the human eye cannot understand what it is seeing. Shapes and contours are lost, leaving nothing but an apparent abyss.
julian: i am so a better noise musician than you
mpath: I'm so good I'm doing post-noise
julian: well i've begun to explore elements of hypernoise and hyper-local sound installations
julian: headphone jacks built into walls constantly playing music so loud it blows out anything you plug into it immediately
julian: without any listed locations
julian: my noise is so noisy nobody *can* listen to it
julian: noise music that alters the listener's brainwaves to make them instantly forget hearing it
mpath: that's good
mpath: but I've done better
mpath: I make my music by developing a temporal anomaly to travel back in time and start the industrial revolution.
julian: i uh
julian: i put out an 8 track once
mpath: I DESTROYED FEUDALISM
julian: so is it like a performance-only piece or something
Unaltered field recordings of casino slot machines, resulting in a psychadelic sound on the borders of noise and Reich-esque aleatoric compositions.
"Video gambling addicts, academic researchers, and industry professionals alike describe the trancelike state into which problem gamblers suspend themselves with remarkable consistency: they unanimously call it the machine ‘zone’, a kind of inner experience during which the rhythmic flow of human-machine collusion borders on mysticism. Time is abolished in the act of contemporary video gambling―simulated slot reels roll, virtual poker decks deal, and all worldly concerns are lost―leaving only the aura of total zone immersion in its wake. Sometimes characterized as the crack cocaine of gambling, the intensity of the machine zone is a symptom of casino ergonomics: oxygen-saturated pleasure air, subtly controlling walkways, mesmerizing lights, and, as captured here, meticulously engineered sonic environments all play a role in evoking the timeless void of the zone.
Although I was not yet aware of the extent to which casinos tailor their environments for maximum comfort (and, correspondingly, profit), I did know as I crossed the threshold of my first casino floor earlier this year that it would not be my last visit. Hit by a cornucopia of slot machine tones, triggering aleatorically and coalescing into shimmering masses, I was struck by the need to return and record the sounds that so entranced me. It wouldn’t prove to be easy―casino security is intense (you can hear me get warned of the consequences of taking photos at the beginning of the disc’s second track)―and due to the clandestine nature of the operation, my recording techniques were by no means sophisticated. Equipped with nothing but an Olympus LS-11 recorder’s internal microphone stashed in a sweaty coat pocket, I allowed the lure of the zone to guide me through a series of ambling recording sessions over a period of four months, the best of which are included here.
I learned a lot about casino sonics in the process: game designers, for example, tune their machines to the key of C in order to optimize harmonic cohesion; one team of designers, the story goes, even spent a month perfecting a single ‘ding’ sound on one machine. In the interest of preserving the true ambient sounds of the casino these recordings are completely untreated, but lost in the sea of chance I did exert some affirmative control by means of meandering intent and my actual playing of the machines. And by participating in the games myself I got a taste of the financially debilitating consequences that accompany the enchantment of video gambling. The disc in your hands represents my endeavor to bring you the zone experience without the harsh comedown of its unfortunate reality.” —- ADRIAN REW
The “Machine Zone” as Thompson, not DeLanda.