Dreams Of Buster Keaton – June 23, 2024


5:15 am
June 23
Awake
After a dream of Buster Keaton
As Venus de Milo
In my bed
I look out the window
At the June sky

Cloudy
With patches of blue
Forecast of thunderstorms
I don’t want my feet to touch the floor
I don’t want to be awake
I Listen
The ringing in my ears
The windows shut
Against the city
Yet
I hear the hum of millions of people.
I lie in bed
5:23am
Alone
To go back
To sleep
To dream
To be
Buster Keaton
As Buster Keaton
Knowing
Unlike life
We can’t repeat dreams
Except for nightmares.
For like life
We have no control over dreams.

The view from my bed

The Outrage of Christ

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THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST by Nikos Kazantzakis was a revelation for a young Catholic boy living on the South Shore of Boston in 1967. I found the book in our town library next to his successful novel ZORBA THE GREEK. The blurb on the dust cover shockingly declared that Kazantzakis had written this book to argue the innate weakness of the flesh in the Son of God. Works of heresy had traditionally been banned in Boston throughout the 1950s. The lack of due date stamps within the front cover revealed that book had never been read by anyone in my town. I stuck it under my arm and walked to the check-out counter.

“This book has been here over seven years.” The librarian examined THE LAST TEMPTATION, as if she had never seen it before. She opened the pages to the publishing date. “It was published in 1955. The Greek and Catholic Churches condemned it.”

“Maybe it was in hiding.” I was a weekly visitor to the library. The librarian was familiar with my reading habits. She allowed me to withdraw adult books without question.

“ZORBA THE GREEK was very popular. Any time someone makes a movie from a book, people come into the library to read it. Afterward I have to hear how the book was better or the movie was better.”

“THE TEN COMMANDMENTS were better than the book.”

I had seen the Bible epic at the South Shore Drive-In with my parents. I hadn’t told them that I was a non-believer. An admission like that earned the belt from my mother.

“That’s almost sacrilegious.” She frowned from behind her desk, then laughed, “I was kidding. I liked THE TEN COMMANDMENTS better too. Let me know how this book is.”

I left and read the entire novel over the weekend.

On Saturday night my older brother came into the bedroom and grabbed it out of my hands. He asked if it was a dirty book.

“No.” Kazantzakis offered an intoxication of heresy more heady than sex.

Frunk threw the book on my bed.

Then what good is it?”

“None, I guess,” I laid back on the pillows and returned to ancient Judea.

The author contradicted the very teachings of the Church. Jesus was a man. He succumbed to the pleasure of Mary Magdalene. The devil tore at his soul. After surviving the crucifixion Messiah fled in India and lived a long life, unfortunately it was all a dream and he woke to find himself nailed to the cross. Kazantzakis’ suggestions created a Fifth Testament complementing my juvenile atheistic version of the last chapters of the New Testament..

Jesus had been crucified on the cross. The Romans had declared him dead, but he had been in a coma. After the earthquake had opened his tomb, the apostles had discovered him alive and declared him the Son of God. Jesus had believed them until Thomas had returned from India.

The missing apostle to the unhealed wounds in Jesus’ feet and hands and told his friend that if the Romans had done this once, then they will complete the job, if they found him alive. Jesus hadn’t come back from the dead to be re-crucified and he fled to India with Thomas, his mother, and Mary Magdalene.

My version was unfounded heresy, until I later read in VS Naipul’s AMONGST THE BELIEVERS that a tomb existed in Northern India containing the body of a holy man from Judea. Yuz Asaf or Issar had been a healer and lived to the age of 127. Muslims in Kashmir revered the tomb as the final resting place of Mary. Craved footprints of Yuz Araf’s gravestone bore wounds in the feet.

More heresy.

In 1988 Martin Scorcese released THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST. The movie was banned in the Philippines and Singapore and a Paris cinema was firebombed by Christian extremists. Thirteen spectators were injured in the attack. The same number of people at the Last Dinner.

Christians are very sensitive about any questioning of the divinity of Jesus or blasphemous exploitation of his image.

The controversial photo PISS CHRIST earned Richard Serrano a brimstone outrage for its use of urine. The artist received hate mail and death threats. His grants were cancelled, despite counter-protests for the freedom of speech as guaranteed by the American Constitution. The work was thoroughly trashed by Christian Fundamentalists in France that Spring and they have mounted a similar campaign against a Paris theater for showing a play in which a portrait of Jesus is covered in shit at the end of the play.

Outrage.

As an atheist I refrain from attacking anyone’s religion.

If belief in a mythical Nailed God happifies the believers, so be it, but if they seek to change the way I think, then I’ll resist the bible-thumpers and jihadists every step of the way.

And here’s how.

Why did Jesus cross the road?

Because he was nailed to the chicken!

Yes, if there is a Hell, we’re all going to go there.

I think that comes from a Curtis Mayfield song.

And I found Hell’s address in THE LAST TEMPTATION on Wikipedia.

IT’S IN THE STATE OF MICHIGAN.

From a 1960s postcard.
“HELL MICH. Greetings from Hell. Mich. Hell, Michigan can be reached from U-96, 15 miles South of the Pinckney Exit or from I-94, 12 miles from either the Baker Road Exit thru Dexter, or the Chelsea Exit thru Unadilla, Michigan.

Once more thanks to Wikipedia.

Rolling Stones – Barcelona – June, 13 1990, music

June 13 1990

Fresh off a Bangkok-Paris flight of my cicumnavigation of the world, I was staying down in Perpignan. My friends Sara Silver and Olivier Brial had scored tickets to the Stones Urban Jungle show in Barcelona’s Olympic Stadium through her work connection at Sony. We were three, but had twenty tix in total. Olivier and I optimistically figured that we’d get $100 a ticket. We sold zero. The venue sat 90,000. It was not a sell-out and we couldn’t give them away, but the show as always was great. Paint it black you devils.

Rolling Stones concert 1990

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWCYZtX-Bvs

Summer Times Blues

  • Today was the official summer solstice for the northern hemisphere. The day lasted almost sixteen hours in New York and the sun never set in Murmansk, Russia. I woke well before the dawn and went to sleep far past sunset, as the Earth polar cap tipped toward the nearest star 93 million miles away from our home planet.

    Five hundred year after the discovery of beer by the Celts the Druid priests gathered the tribes to erect this monolithic bluestone clock to record the rising and setting on the sun and the passage of the stars. To this day modern archaeologists will not attributed this great feat to the Celts, because the true tribe supposedly arrived in Britain in 600 before Caeser’s reign over Rome.

    Fucking Brits haven’t even discovered its ancient name.

    No one has come even close.

    No one.

    Not even us remaining Neanderthals.

    The Avebury henges followed Stonehenge’s creation.

    Back in 1994 I drank in a good pub at the northern entrance.

    I also climbed to the top of the Sillbury Hill.

    Scientist have calculated that its construction took five hundred men fifteen years.

    And over two seas of beer.

    The exact purpose of the hill remains unknown.

    The view from the top is good, but nothing special.

    Stonehenge has its rivals such as the Hopewell Project in Bangkok

    .

    Or Manhattanhenge in New York.

    And who can forget the eternal bliss of Foamhenge in Virginia.

    It’s now 2:33PM

    In Brooklyn.

    I am ready for a nap.

    Longest day of the year or not.

    With my head to the west.

    As it should be on the summer solstice.

    tNothing like Blue Cheers SUMMERTIME BLUES

    THEY WERE ONCE THE LOUDEST BAND IN THE WORLD.

  • The Longest Day Of The Year – Stonehenge – 2014

    37,000 people gathered at Stonehenge to celebrate the dawn of the longest day of the year. Police arrested a number of people for reefer, which the BBC referred to as ‘drugs’. I stood on my roof at dusk.

    Naked to the sun.

    No one else joined me, which is a good thing.

    Getting arrested for public indecency would be a horrible way to end Litha, the pagan day of the sun standing still.

    Bain sult as or enjoy in Gaelic.