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______________________________________________________ the same beasts keep burrowing____________________________ I believe they know something ______________________________ we must be very, very quiet ________________________ there was ____________________when everything turned inwards __________ I knew i wasn't going to make it.
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| 3. Perfect absenteeism. I cannot even see myself. No show. I ask others. They don’t answer. Tomorrow i will look back on today and my mind will fill in the gaps of the story. My memory will be deleted. Wiped. And i will repeat the same mistakes. I will start again. From nowhere. |  |
Newman said that while researchers have known about relaxation-induced anxiety since the 1980s, the specific cause of this phenomenon has remained unknown. When Newman developed the contrast avoidance theory in 2011, she thought the two concepts might be connected.
"The theory revolves around the idea that people may make themselves anxious intentionally as a way to avoid the letdown they might get if something bad were to happen," Newman said. "This isn't actually helpful and just makes you more miserable. But, because most of the things we worry about don't end up happening, what's reinforced in the brain is, 'I worried and it didn't happen so I should continue worrying.'"
"The theory revolves around the idea that people may make themselves anxious intentionally as a way to avoid the letdown they might get if something bad were to happen," Newman said. "This isn't actually helpful and just makes you more miserable. But, because most of the things we worry about don't end up happening, what's reinforced in the brain is, 'I worried and it didn't happen so I should continue worrying.'"
 We’re in the middle of an ecological emergency. This summer, we saw the hottest month ever recorded. Heatwaves melted Greenland’s ice sheet at a terrifying rate. Fires raged across Siberia and the Amazon rainforest. Hurricane Dorian unleashed what one meteorologist called “the longest siege of violent, destructive weather ever observed” on our planet. |  Vive la liberté! //////// :Medicine transplant (living tissue) as a graft: they can graft a new hand on to the nerve ends. :Combine or integrate (an idea, system, etc.) with another, typically in a way considered inappropriate: old values have been grafted on to a new economic class • advantages or gains secured as a result of corrupt practices. mid 19th cent. :Perhaps related to the phrase spade's graft ‘the amount of earth that one stroke of a spade will move’, based on Old Norse grǫftr ‘digging’. LISTEN & BUY HERE |  “Without question, as a community, we will need to hold replacement jails to account, especially in light of the negligent affronts to human dignity at other New York City jails,” he continues. “And, more broadly, we must work together to address the root causes of mass incarceration — to develop and deploy a more just approach to criminal justice. We cannot let the perfect be the enemy of progress. If we skip steps, we risk creating a new kind of gap — a gap of missed opportunities and lost alliances.” |
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I knew I was completely misaligned. It was no surprise. It had been like that for years. On my good days I could keep it all sight, a bit like a broken stick caught up in the wake of a boat. The good days were getting less and less frequent. I knew drinking wasn't helping, but what else was there? I'd looked at it from every angle and it still made no sense to me. Sometimes I'd just start walking, following the river or scaling some ridiculous ridge that made my legs scream and my body pour sweat. At least I was alive and creating some kind of momentum, no matter how short lived, that made me feel like I was heading somewhere. Osteopathy clicked the bones back in and psychotherapy emptied the cellars of panic and confusion. But still there was no lasting solution and so the anger and hatred was turned inwards. Why am I so unhappy? Why don't I just let go, or simply go? There comes a point when a darkness falls over all possible options and the thought of further pointless repetition kicks the chair away, pulls the trigger, swallows the pills or jumps off the bridge.
I knew I was completely misaligned. It was no surprise. It had been like that for years. On my good days I could keep it all sight, a bit like a broken stick caught up in the wake of a boat. The good days were getting less and less frequent. I knew drinking wasn't helping, but what else was there? I'd looked at it from every angle and it still made no sense to me. Sometimes I'd just start walking, following the river or scaling some ridiculous ridge that made my legs scream and my body pour sweat. At least I was alive and creating some kind of momentum, no matter how short lived, that made me feel like I was heading somewhere. Osteopathy clicked the bones back in and psychotherapy emptied the cellars of panic and confusion. But still there was no lasting solution and so the anger and hatred was turned inwards. Why am I so unhappy? Why don't I just let go, or simply go? There comes a point when a darkness falls over all possible options and the thought of further pointless repetition kicks the chair away, pulls the trigger, swallows the pills or jumps off the bridge.
Entertainers and detainees, fragments of a forgotten era, society’s relics, fallen travelers in a skeleton lake, death by hailstone, carriers of fire hitched up to the new dimension and looking for the ticket collector. No one rides for free. Consensus wants to bridge the gap and make a dash for the tree-line. Maybe we could hide out there for a while and let the storm pass, deflect the unwanted attention and do a deal with the mighty oaks and towering kauri. Piecing together survival kits and ragged maps, great ambitions to stand a-top the mountain and catch a glimpse of the long lost north. Meanwhile lip service has been resumed by the citizens of babel, a see-sawing of adjectives and objection, agreement is futile, it’s every man for himself and every woman for intuition. Comedians gather around the ashes and poke fun at the flames, it all seems so open ended now the punch lines have been pushed to the front and the disjointed world of connectivity is stalled in the congestion of microwaves. Blood races through the veins and choices are endless when it comes to sweat-shop costumes and performance enhancing colour schemes;… threading and weaving, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, returning the treadmills and decommissioning the race against time. This is a viewpoint from under the arches as steel and coal become ghost-like, drifting through walls and walking on water, what we see and what we know are vastly different and yet we are still driven to make wild claims and sweeping statements that have no real flesh or fruit. The hangman whistles, the carpet moves, the money runs out, the power is switched off.
Of course we are blown apart by the alignment of stones and the reflections in water. If we weren’t we would have succumbed to the terminal sanitisation of revolutionary culture…. life as a fashion magazine. I’m swept into the margins by another ultra-hallucinogenic blood-sky car-wreck sunset in loveville. I’m guessing it must be something about the big flatlands and the cold air, whatever it is it burns deep and dark and spins up a sliver moon and nails it to the night. I can’t say what the nucleus is, i can’t say when any of it started, i can’t even be sure that it did. What i’m trying to capture here is the flit and the gasp as it slips through the teeth like sand through fingers, words tumbling in themselves like migrating fish :- corkscrews of light and water. Mostly we look out at the world of our life and imagine we are the importance at the centre of all we perceive, which is an illusion, albeit one that a multitude of men (mostly) go on to make careers of in politics and business, which seems strange… almost like some twisted version of an actor or musician seeking affirmation in every performance, too caught up in the self to feel what the audience knows. Perpetuating a deception, milking a plastic cow, biting the hand that force feeds. I look for a rhythm that sits sideways with a honed blade and a whole cut above what came before. If i draw the line at all it’s just to point out that point C can easily sit between points A and B, it’s all in the overview. I see so many things when i’m driving, a weird unknown interaction between laminated glass, tyres, limited skills and driving passion. Fruit rot out, bad corpses of creole danger, pull on your long boots and let’s meet this at full gallop.
Of course we are blown apart by the alignment of stones and the reflections in water. If we weren’t we would have succumbed to the terminal sanitisation of revolutionary culture…. life as a fashion magazine. I’m swept into the margins by another ultra-hallucinogenic blood-sky car-wreck sunset in loveville. I’m guessing it must be something about the big flatlands and the cold air, whatever it is it burns deep and dark and spins up a sliver moon and nails it to the night. I can’t say what the nucleus is, i can’t say when any of it started, i can’t even be sure that it did. What i’m trying to capture here is the flit and the gasp as it slips through the teeth like sand through fingers, words tumbling in themselves like migrating fish :- corkscrews of light and water. Mostly we look out at the world of our life and imagine we are the importance at the centre of all we perceive, which is an illusion, albeit one that a multitude of men (mostly) go on to make careers of in politics and business, which seems strange… almost like some twisted version of an actor or musician seeking affirmation in every performance, too caught up in the self to feel what the audience knows. Perpetuating a deception, milking a plastic cow, biting the hand that force feeds. I look for a rhythm that sits sideways with a honed blade and a whole cut above what came before. If i draw the line at all it’s just to point out that point C can easily sit between points A and B, it’s all in the overview. I see so many things when i’m driving, a weird unknown interaction between laminated glass, tyres, limited skills and driving passion. Fruit rot out, bad corpses of creole danger, pull on your long boots and let’s meet this at full gallop.
 |  |  |  |
Accordingly, the observational, sociological scenes, including a trip to a factory, chases through pool halls and gambling rings, the focus on sex work, and a police raid on a seedy hotel housing the underclasses become incisive critiques of class stratification.
The First Tibetan RiteStand with your feet hip-distance apart and your arms outstretched to form a “T,” palms facing the floor. Ensure that your arms are perfectly horizontal and in line with your shoulders. Spin in a clockwise motion as many times as comfortable, stopping when you feel dizzy or once you reach 21. In the Western world, most people recognize 21 as the goal to work up toward, although many Tibetan lamas stop at 12. To ease this process, you can engage in “spotting” (a popular term used in dance), whereby you look straight forward at one spot, until at the last second you turn your head around and find that same spot. Remember to breathe deeply as you’re spinning!
The following image is of the first Tibetan Rite:
The First Tibetan RiteStand with your feet hip-distance apart and your arms outstretched to form a “T,” palms facing the floor. Ensure that your arms are perfectly horizontal and in line with your shoulders. Spin in a clockwise motion as many times as comfortable, stopping when you feel dizzy or once you reach 21. In the Western world, most people recognize 21 as the goal to work up toward, although many Tibetan lamas stop at 12. To ease this process, you can engage in “spotting” (a popular term used in dance), whereby you look straight forward at one spot, until at the last second you turn your head around and find that same spot. Remember to breathe deeply as you’re spinning!
The following image is of the first Tibetan Rite:
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