Andy Goldsworthy
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Andy Goldsworthy (born Cheshire, England, 1956) is a British artist and photographer living in Scotland who produces site specific sculpture and land art situated in natural settings. His art involves the use of natural and found objects to create temporary sculptural pieces which both appear naturalistic and create stark contrasts with their surroundings. He works closely with form and color contrasts to produce works that are both striking and ephemeral.

In certain company i am embarrassed to admit it
but i am a smoker
there have been various manifestations of my smoking habit
but at the current time i am broke as shit
and rolling my own
and to be honest i enjoy the habit with it’s various accouterments, rituals and required parts
and i enjoy smoking
or at least i did until recently

a chapter from the life, delving into the realm of autobiography, various facets of my ideological make-up are pulled out and paraded about for the entertainment of the masses.

Madness in South Carolina

I started the trip over-loaded with provision and seriously under-equipped with common sense. Small wonder that I ended up here; sitting in the belly of a greyhound, trying to sleep in the inconsistent washes of light from across the highway, grinning as the realization hits me- I must have been drunk when I came up with this idea.

Wired 13.11: My Bionic Quest for Boléro

He’s been haunted by Ravel’s masterpiece since he lost his hearing. A deaf man’s pursuit of the perfect audio upgrade.

By Michael Chorost

With one listen, I was hooked. I was a 15-year-old suburban New Jersey nerd, racked with teenage lust but too timid to ask for a date. When I came across Boléro among the LPs in my parents’ record collection, I put it on the turntable. It hit me like a neural thunderstorm, titanic and glorious, each cycle building to a climax and waiting but a beat before launching into the next.

more old poetry i’m afraid… and you might want to be afraid as well…
-jester

for the phantoms

come, lie beside me
pour your dreams into a ready ear

come, impregnate the mysteries
substantiate the love that can find no expression and only hates

come, explain what you are waiting for
you who have everything to explore
what chains and fetters deny you the infinite?

This right here is very easily worth the thirty-two seconds of your life spent watching it.

Ok so do me a favor here, wait to play the song until it appears in the text, just humor me.
Thanks…

This, I don’t know, maybe it’s-

some kind of beatnik thing.

Oh no, here it comes, one of those moments. You’ve spent an evening without the buffer of alcohol to protect you from your thoughts, the library was closed so you’re out of fresh things to distract your mind, you’ve been watching movies you’ve downloaded and drinking iced apple juice all night; peering into odd corners of the world that are revealed on sober, introspective evenings.

digging back into the archives here, just pulled one out at random and now i am posting it, do rather hope you enjoy it… at least a little bit..
-jester

chaotic clockwork

Another year survived, given its rest with the rituals of intense intoxication, watching the drunks who have lost their ability to act naturally. I missed the moment itself, ushered inside to watch a ball drop, I refused at first, but was coerced. Didn’t want to start a new year staring at the idiot box, but was beguiled, so I watched the walls, the drunks, and was hip-deep in a conversation I can’t now recall when the moment came.