Thought for the Day

As to salvation and all that... The greatest teachers, the true healers, I would say, have always insisted that they can only point the way. The Buddha went so far as to say: "Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense."

The great ones do not set up offices, charge fees, give lectures, or write books. Wisdom is silent, and the most effective propaganda for truth is the force of personal example. The great ones attract disciples, lesser figures whose mission it is to preach and teach. These are the gospelers who, unequal to the highest task, spend their lives converting others. The great ones are indifferent, in the profoundest sense. They don't ask you to believe: they electrify you by their behavior. They are the awakeners. What you do with your life is only of concern to you, they seem to say. In short, their only purpose here on earth is to inspire. And what more can one ask of a human being than that?

- Henry Miller, Sexus

It's Nothing

Lisa Dee gave me the 1st season of Ashton Kutcher's "Punk'd " on DVD for Christmas, along with a Border's gift card (cuz she knowz I gotz to read!) and a pair of pink slippers that say, "I love my BFF" on 'em. It's a good thing her mom was in town to enforce Christmas upon her, as Deedle often likes to try to hide from the formal participation in holidays. :-)

My all-time favorite Punk'd is the one with Justin Timberlake, where they make him believe that all of his possessions, house, pets, EVERYTHING is being seized by a Tax Enforcement agency. Not only is the prank executed with such immense orchestration and precision that it is awe-inspiring... Timberlake's post-prank reaction is so beautiful and joyous and relieved and funny that it really makes me love that guy.

Today I was turned on to Stefan Bruggemann's "Nothing Boxes" by David Hurlin, who is one of the few people I have met who shares my intense obsession with nothing. I am grateful to have another set of eyes and ears out there on the front lines of art life and experience sending me reports whenever nothing makes its appearance.

At the end of the Justin Timberlake Punk'd episode, he finally picks up one of the boxes that he assumed was full of his stuff. They were all completely empty.

Absence is the new presence. Everything is connected. Nothing is real.

Happy New Year?

Love,
Juli

Fucking

If I fall any deeper (into this horrific joy love)
Without a doubt unflinching I'm going to
Fucking
Drown choke on blood from the great oceanic heart
Pumping the good rhythm all the way into breaking bones
Powdered
Unresisting

If I look any longer (into this blinding light)
Without a doubt my eyes will
Fucking
Shriveled unseeing spots of black ash glowing spirit beads
A new musket I am rightfully named "shoots self in the foot"
Tripping
Maimed

If I breathe any longer (this infinite cold breath)
Without a doubt my lungs will
Fucking
Burst buoyant flame blasted hot air floating ropeless
Shrieking land locked tempest worms the moist dirt inspiring
Groundless
Unproven

If I touch once more (this body inhabiting)
Without a doubt the I will be
Fucking
Curvilinear endless hunger ever-blossoming exponential sweet tooth
Carnival locked door integrity fast one two three HOW DID HE DO IT?
Slowness
Silence

To review,
Without a doubt the I will be
Fucking
Powdered
Unresistant
Tripping
Maimed
Groundless
(This chapter has been removed from the original)
Unproven
Slowness
And the rest is silence.