Monthly Archives: January 2015

Curve / Think & Act

Curve / Think & Act

I know you better than yourself
You think and act but you can’t convince me
I’ve heard suspicions in the middle of the night
They woke me up, they woke me up

Some people say I’m hollow
And some people say I’m false
And others say I’m narrow
But what do they know, what do they know

They all say I won’t listen
I won’t listen to any criticism
Well, they could be me for a day
If they liked
Then they’d know
Then they’d say (burn your soul)
They’d say (burn your soul)
They’d say (burn it down to the ground)

And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore

I know you
You think and act but you can’t
You can’t
You just can’t
I’ve heard suspicions
They don’t mean a thing to me
Not now you know me so well

You just (burn your soul)
You just (burn your soul)
You just (burn your soul to the ground)

And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore
And I don’t listen anymore

Not now you know me so well

You think and act but you can’t
You can’t
You just can’t

You think and act but you can’t

(Help me to)
(Slay me)
(Slowly)

(Ooh, we are in paradise)
(We)
(We, we are in paradise)
(Paradise)

Theodora (detail) currently hanging as of Jan. 29, 2015 @ Broken Tree Cafe at the corner of Main & Sheridan in Peoria, Il

Theodora (by cfjurgus) (detail) currently hanging as of Jan. 29, 2015 @ Broken Tree Cafe at the corner of Main & Sheridan in Peoria, Il If you would like to donate collage materials–magazines, printed ephemera, etc.–Please contact me via contact page on this site… Also, I will attend First Friday in Peoria at the Cafe Feb 6th, Thank you.

upcoming show: April 27, 2014 Coffeehouse and Deli 114 E Beaufort St, (downtown) Normal

Theodora (detail) currently hanging as of Jan. 29, 2015 @ Broken Tree Cafe at Main & Sheridan in Peoria, Il

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Stone Temple Pilots / Big Empty

Stone Temple Pilots / Big Empty (video by Keepo, Sin City montage)

Drivin’ faster in my car
Fallin’ farther from just what we are
Smoke a cigarette and lie some more
These conversations kill
Fallin’ faster in my car
Time to take her home
Her dizzy head is conscience laden
Time to take a ride
It leaves today no conversation
Time to take her home
Her dizzy head is conscience laden
Time to wait too long
To wait too long
To wait too long
Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin
Too much trippin’ and my soul’s worn thin
Time to catch a ride it leaves today
Her name is what it means
To much walkin’, shoe’s worn thin
Time to take her home
Her dizzy head is conscience laden
Time to take a ride
It leaves today no conversation
Time to take her home
Her dizzy head is conscience laden
Time to wait too long
To wait too long
To wait too long

Ministry / So What (live)

Ministry / So What (live)

(…you have had all that money can give you, but that wasn’t enough. You became a thrill seeker… thrill seeker… thrill seeker… thrill seeker… killed for a trick. This thrill-seeking became the one great thing in your life… piling one thrill on another, until, the murder. Killed for the love of killing. Killed for a trick. …A ha ha ha… The thrill-seeker comes from… all walks of life… from a home where the parents are too busy to treat their children with respect… respect… respect. Respect… respect… respect. Killed for a trick. Respect… respect… respect.)

Die, die, die, die
Scum sucking de[BILITATE] debauched
Anal fuck-fest, thrill Olympics
Savage scourge supply and sanctify

So what? So what?
So what? So what?
Die, die, die, die

(Assassin, assassin… killed for a trick.)

Die, die, die, die
You said it
Sedatives supplied become laxatives
My eyes shit out lies
I only kill to know I’m alive

So what? So what?
So what? So what?
Die, die, die, die

(Some people think newspapers exaggerate juvenile crime, or that it’s confined mostly to large cities. Juvenile delinquency is authorized cause parents think something has gone wrong with the environment. Adults create the world children live in. Juvenile delinquency is always rooted in adult delinquency. And in this process, parents play a key role. When children grow up among adults who refuse to recognize anything that is fine and good or worthy of respect… Respect… Respect. Killed for a trick.)

Die, die, die, die
So what, it’s your problem
To learn to live with
Destroy us or make us saints

We don’t care, it’s not our fault
That we were born too late
A screaming headache
On the brow of the state

Killing time is appropriate
To make a mess and fuck all the rest
We say, we say

So what? So what?
So what? So what?
Die

Die
Now I know what is right
I’ll kill them all if I like
I’m a time bomb inside
No one listens to reason
It’s too late and I’m ready to fight

Now I’m ready to fight
Now I’m ready to fight
Now I’m ready to fight
Now I’m ready to fight
Fight, fight, fight

So what?
So what? So what?
So what? So what?
So what? So what?

Songwriters
WILLIAMS/WOOD/GRAVITT

Talking Heads / Crosseyed and Painless

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Zrkf65GmwE Talking Heads / Crosseyed and Painless

Lost my shape Trying to act casual! Can’t stop I might end up in the hospital I’m changing my shape I feel like an accident They’re back! To explain their experience Isn’t it weird Looks too obscure to me Wasting away And that was their policy I’m ready to leave I push the fact in front of me Facts lost Facts are never what they seem to be Nothing there! No information left of any kind Lifting my head Looking for danger signs There was a line There was a formula Sharp as a knife Facts cut a hole in us There was a line There was a formula Sharp as a knife Facts cut a hole in us I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting… I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting… I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting… The feeling returns Whenever we close out eyes Lifting my head looking around inside The island of doubt It’s like the taste of medicine Working by hindsight Got the message from the oxygen Making a list Find the cost of opportunity Doing it right Facts are useless in emergencies The feeling returns Whenever we close our eyes Lifting my head Looking around inside. Facts are simple and facts are straight Facts are lazy and facts are late Facts all come with points of view Facts don’t do what I want them to Facts just twist the truth around Facts are living turned inside out Facts are getting the best of them Facts are nothing on the face of things Facts don’t stain the furniture Facts go out and slam the door Facts are written all over your face Facts continue to change their shape I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting… I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting… I’m still waiting…I’m still waiting…
Songwriters: BYRNE, DAVID/FRANTZ, CHRISTOPHER/WEYMOUTH, TINA/HARRISON, JERRY/ENO, BRIAN, PETER GEORGE
      Such a great song… Such a great video. It is indicative of an aspect of human culture in its evolution through time that rather than losing it, such great songs like this one actually gain pertinence. Even now, perhaps especially now, this first line sets up a primeval pattern in human existence in its modern context. When man first entered the cave, his sensory perception deprived to the minimum, the mind began its first strides inward and consciousness was, if not born, conceived. I came across a later manifestation of this rite of passage from somewhere in, likely, the 900’s ad in the written memory of the Slavic east in an excerpt from the Russian Primary Chronicle. I discovered it at a time in my life when I was becoming more and more isolated from family and friends–when I was finally beginning to shed those “childish things…” my chemical escapism. I was so freaked out by what I read , I had to put down the book and then come back to it again later… then again the next day–and I still had a hard time introducing it into my schema of understanding.
The passage was describing a funerary rite for a fallen warrior… The young women, along with the old, were gathered and asked for their participation. Only one would be selected and it would be a great honor. The young girls were all eager for the chance to participate and all volunteered for this privileged. In such an uncertain life, lived so close to brutal death… surely it was honor which would see you safely to the center of things. A girl was selected and taken into the hut where the body of the slain warrior lay. Outside the old women began a hooting and hollering commotion, followed in this by the unknowing young, to mask what they knew was going on inside. Inside, the girl was raped and slaughtered as offering.
You see, at this point in human cultural evolution, it wasn’t the pre-birth of consciousness one found in that dark room out of sight… it wasn’t the beginning of the traversing from Id to Ego, but Ego to Super-Ego. The awakening of the individual into that broader consciousness of the self within the context of the society in which that self lived. This was the funeral rite of the warrior, and she would honor his sacrifice in kind–likely, both of them went to these roles eagerly without understanding what awaited them.
Years later, I came across a similar illustration of this ancient pattern in the book, The Fratricides, by Nicholas Kazantzakis. This time the pattern was much more easily digestible. A huckster at a fair entices young men to enter a tent where-in he will find the truth of the fallacy of marriage… for a modest fee. Once inside the dupe is presented with an empty tent and the huckster says, [now, do you really want to humiliate yourself by confessing you’ve been tricked and cheated so easily?] And thus, the young man kept his silence.
This first line, “I lost my shape, trying to act natural…” reveals this same pattern as succinctly and profoundly as could be imaginable. This is what happens… you undergo a transformation merely through inaction, just by trying to pretend that nothing has happened. How many of us have walked into a room where there was nothing but idiotic malevolence so profound as to be hard to comprehend, and then walked out again stupefied and knowing that no one would believe what we found. This is how legacies of power so ancient as to be rooted in the lizard brain manifest. It reminds me of the line from a Radiohead song… “I am sorry for us, the dinosaurs roam the earth…” To act natural afterwards is to [lose your shape.]
I won’t bother with an explication of the entire song but leave it with this… at the end,,, this chanted line… “I’m still waiting… still waiting.” Is the single tacit mantra of Christianity. Theology being that other thing that saw us through the darkness of that prehistoric cave, a thing which, despite your stated atheism or agnosticism, guides us still. By entering that room and learning the legacy of the beast, we, at the very least, learn the stakes.
cfjurgus

New Art Show in Peoria Illinois

New Art Show in Peoria Illinois at the Broken Tree Cafe (posted Jan 13, 2015)

My art will be hanging at the Broken Tree Cafe. Sometime in the next week my art will be put up and I plan a visit on the first Friday which is the local Artist’s new show day in the neighborhood. Yesterday, I set out from my home in Bloomington-Normal to deliver my work to the care of Jeremiah at the Broken Tree. Missing my turn-off, I was in Pontiac before I realized I was heading in the wrong direction. I called Jeremiah and he graciously said he’d wait for me to arrive. I went east on route 116 trying to find route 23 to route 24, which would take me right into Peoria–though I was nervous about the roads with the snow. In downtown Peoria I picked up Old Route 66, auspicious as route 66 ends in Chicago at the front stair of the Art Institute. I managed to get lost immediately upon entering Peoria and then stumbled across my planned last leg of the route. Jeremiah was still there and was still unaware of what my art looked like. He decided to hang everything I brought–which, of course, made me very happy. As I was leaving, I saw a young woman shoveling the snow from the sidewalk in front of the community garden next to the gas station just opposite Sheridan st from the Broken Tree. It was already getting dark and I was so excited I had to suppress the impulse to offer my help–she was nearly done anyway. It was another bit of kismit as I had spent all morning shoveling half my block–this IS precisely the kind of neighborhood in which I want my work shown. And it occurs to me that greeting the mailman in the midst of my work… I found out he had to come from Peoria as so many postal workers had called in sick in Bloomington that day–I told him about the show. Thanks for your support.