Date: Mon, 13 Aug 2001 09:11:16 -0700
Subject: indifference of the beautiful=the beauty of indifference



or better title perhaps: "the rational indifference of clouds".

"In the beginning"
at now
only to inform all the subjects here of their attendance on the appearing
of a sovereign in their midst, not their sovereign but still one who holds
his place legally and according to the higher laws that govern
sovereignity, in my case that law allowing claim by right of conquest, here
over the primitive lands of myself.

True my sovereignity lives itself out in the wilderness, that wilderness
referred to on some maps as Amerika, a wild land that has chosen the facile
program called demo.cracy.com where the common animal rules, in name at
least, but where in fact the uncommon predatory lawyer classes rule by
making the rules through which rules are made, as so they cleverly
stationed themselves in massive force headwaterly at the money river
flowing out from behind the ever malleable iron gate of "the Law". For me,
as sovereign, this state of affairs only means my kingdom (again consisting
of a single ruler and a single ruled which are in the same) is situated on
an expanse of the earth filled with all manner of dangerous predators and
so necessitates an aware prudence be placed foremost at the watchtower of
my rule. Necessity as prudentiality allows the classes of predators in my
territory to issue commands as edicts to me, but these commands mean no
more than the commands I would obey issued by any random 25,000 pound
gorrilla, or that is, necessity rules the prudent ruler who obeys the
barest implications implied behind any pit vipers fangs but does not, in
the process, become these viper's tenured slave.

ok first tho, to attend some now recently old business here and explain a
bit my last Sunday morning posts which was yes all at too gros a literal
influence underwrit by the mr. john cash's rendition of his own Sunday
mornin comin down:

"Well I woke up Sunday mornin
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt,
and the beer i had for breakfast
wasn't bad,
so i had one more for dessert"


but enough garbling issuing out of an unsubjected sovereign's hangover from
overgaming and it is quite a different world when you view this world as
being the singular sum of the singular subject, the subjectively thinged
'thing', and yourself as body, and so as the only truly existing predicate
(i.e. as the X) living as that one sovereignity which creates all subjects
and all their godoverme versions, all those generative grammer infused gods
who find their existence only in the subject, never in the predicate.

and so it is and so it goes and so now it's to get on "to the spirit of
seriousness affairs", to the serious business of gaming out a few images of
'the most real' here, or to say, a flight, an "off to see the wizard on the
wild wings of a thunderstorm" in order to get a peek at the wizarded thing
itself, or more specifically, off to look at the composed beauty in the
chasmodic indifference of the indifferent clouds:


When the listen takes me over, when I stand listening into the distance of
any sky, day sky night sky no matter, and whatever else that thing is my
mindsear hears echoing back at me from out of such skies, it is always
couched exclusively in a greek voice, tho none (zero) of these greek voices
i hear reverb at all with one iotic dram of any residual iota of any of
that stuf voiced by the greek philosophers but all the voices i hear are
emanating solely from their insurpassable practitioners of practical
rhetoric, from their persuaders, those well formed forms from which and out
from whom i am extremely and awakenly vulnerable to "be" their persuadee
(as my external unwritten standing rule commands me externally 'to be'). Or
to say, I'm ALWAYS vulnerable to 'persuasion "as" persuasion', and not
being otherwise and also a dupe (i.e. not sucked in 'each and every time'
by all the erotic glintings bouncing off the clear ivory skin of the pure
bareshouldered beauty in this the most power full art), i am nevertheless
and certainly and always its willing slave, one "who desires nothing more
[from life] than it" - as so i always allow whatever the unresistable ratio
at work inside these greek 'music teachers' irresists me toward and always
this happens inside the wonders

- of brute love - brute awe - -

or, and so to say, the voice that interests me most is always the voice
that invites on to "become persuaded", to become convicted of all those
things no mere philosopher could ever stand under long enough to gain more
than partial understanding of, wildernistic voices without a "why",
con.sisting entirely in their "being of and being only" at residence on the
inside, in the form of "an attendance on" that particular singularity of
the sovereign "how"- ohhh, and ahhhhhhhhhhh - - what paradise enow -

or all this at least to me - -

must stop here, maybe more later

janus mon frere,
xkenneth

ps

of course the "essential thing" is (and was always) this: to gain to the
inside of the how. Because for xman, there is only the absolute unequivocal
essentialness of the "how" and the mere why is only an identification
tagging vehicle for this how. Or to say, the why is useful only as the
driver for the axioms that reveal the how's coordinates in the real, the
blueprint machine, wherein the "why" is merely the form (merely the
"mathematics" that create the concept sums) as the engine for composing
those essential coordinate "listing-outs" necessary for the calculated
purpose of finding the stricter and singular sovereign ways, those routes
that "might" possibly lead up - to new more crystal higher views - perhaps
even clear on up unto some fifth dimensional view rendering an "ideation"
of the ineffable dimension of the incalculable [when taken to the power of
the X], one that only wayfaringly and accidentally gives animas to all its
inferior derivations, to its 'merely' deriveds, such as those derivational
tissue paper constructings of all the billion "deus ex machina" concepts
concocted by popes, popeyes, and their emulators here for example (which
this "lovers'ofwisdom" list is most feverously over rifed).

and on ponder, i must say, and please don't get me wrong here, that the why
is vital or there can be no growth, but the why of the why, if one is
blessed with a good and wakeful teacher, can be settled alone and by itself
in very few sessions

learning how things happen and learning why things happen are inferior
steps on the way to the higher groundings. and the highest level on this
path is arriving escherly back the original point, that of 'whence being?',
or "why is there anything at all". But it behooves the best students to
start out here at the highest, so not to become ensnarled inside a 70 years
span of inferior whyings that are mostly pandered to and from pseudo
philosophers and by that ugliest of all classes, the priests, the pious
priests, these are the phoniest most disgusting why.ners and ritemakers, at
least in this corner of the whyless Becoming.
--

The void (that all you subjectified classes i.e. all you
objects-become-subjects and constructors of concept clouds thrownoverall in
order to avoid this void "as void"), precisely there is where my kingdom
lies - north, beyond the west wind, beyond hyperborea, beyond everything
that is merely effable -




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