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Archive through June 27, 2002

Sepulchritude Forum » The Absinthe Forum Archive thru January 2003 » Arts & Other Philosophical Sundries » An Attempt at Love Poetry » Archive through June 27, 2002 « Previous Next »

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Admin
Posted on Thursday, June 27, 2002 - 8:02 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

I imagine Lynch was drawing parallels with Diane's hiring an assassin to kill "Rita" and Beatrice Cenci doing the same for her father.

It gave me a secret thrill to actually understand and notice the allusion.
Admin
Posted on Thursday, June 27, 2002 - 8:00 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

I *did* notice ... and I thought I was the only one ...

The Cencis, next to the Borgias, are a passion of mine.
Pataphysician
Posted on Thursday, June 27, 2002 - 7:49 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

Hey, speaking of Lucrezia's, Anybody notice the repeated appearances of the portrait of Beatrice Cenci in "Mulholland Drive"? What's up with that?

Sorry, didn't know where else to pose this burning question.
Chrysippvs
Posted on Thursday, June 27, 2002 - 12:21 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

From real life or Browning's poem (of which I have not read). I think I would have been more like Cesare, her brother and sometimes lover, except without the raging libido, but with the Machiavellian attitude (and I would have put Machiavelli to death for satirizing me in the Prince).

Ahh the Borgias, incest, intrique, and inquisition. What more could a family ask for?

- J
Bob_Chong
Posted on Thursday, June 27, 2002 - 12:11 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

"I called her Lucrezia."

And that would make you Andrea Del Sarto?
Mr_Rabid
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 11:42 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Therapy is hobbled by the culture of litigism. Therapists can't take neccessary risks or they will be sued.

And there really is such a thing as a repressed memory I think.

Once, the girl I was seeing- part of me knew she was not good for me.

That part made me forget (and I mean stone cold forget) her phone number. See, the other part wanted to call her. I had had that number memorized for several years.

I eventually found the piece of paper I'd written it down on.

I love my brain!
Bunnylebowski
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 11:16 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Excellent points BJ. I acknowledge that mental illness is no different than physical illness, and should be treated medically. However, for every 1 person I know who has been genuinely helped by therapy, I know at least 5 others who it has either not helped or has made them worse through excessive overprescription of psychoactive drugs. This does not discredit all therapy, but mental health treatment seems to have a pretty low success rate in my opinion.
If you feel genuinely motivated to off yourself, go to a therapist Goddammmit!! Life is great, and you should live as long a one as possible! Too often though neurotic individuals become co-dependant on their very therapists who are supposedly helping their maladies, but who in reality just write prescriptions and take the typical behaviorist approach where they just ask lots of questions but offer no feasible suggestions. Contemporary therapy is too generalized, and very little of it ends up increasing self awareness. You're better off just going to Tibet and sitting on a mountain top for a few months with a buddhist master.
_Blackjack
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 11:04 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post


Quote:

Humans are dualistic creatures, and modern psychiatry still fights against humans very nature.



Well, sometimes it fights against very real organic diseases, too. Trust me, I'm much more unique and exciting and troublesome now than I was huddled in a corner of my bed.


Quote:

Underneath it all, many people may want to be house plants that eat some pills that make them level all the time, but then where will the joy from all the highs and lows come from?



Or maybe they just appreciate that the lows that they still have no longer send them crashing down so hard that they don't have the energy to bathe, let alone work.


Quote:

Meanwhile, look at all the families and lives that have been forever scarred by faith in Repressed Memory Syndrome, which is what psychiatry always resorts to when it is unsuccessful.



Repressed Memory Syndrome is to Psychiatry what chieropracty is to internal medicine. Few respected authorities give any real credence to the idea, except to acknowlege that some disorders lead people to BELIEVE that they have repressed memories.

It is rarely actual MD's, by the way, who create "repressed memories" for their patients, but various gaggles licensed practical therapists and clinical social workers and such. It isn't medicine, it's a form of cultural ritual.
Chevalier
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 6:03 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

A friend of mine was born in Hollywood's old Cedars-Sinai hospital, a beautiful Deco building. A few years back the Scientologists bought it, painted the whole thing sky-blue, and renamed the alley beside it "L. Ron Hubbard Drive". Needless to say, it's not a hospital anymore. More like a recruitment center. Folks wearing Navy-style uniforms emerge from it weekly with enormous checks, which they deposit in a nearby bank. I know, because my Cedars-Sinai born friend works in that bank.
Bunnylebowski
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:47 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Damn right it is!! I was out there last summer, and every other building on that fucking street was something to do with Scientology. Their IQ tests are even more deceptive than those fucking Christians that throw tracts in your face.
Ever see Bowfinger?
Mind Brain enterprises.
At first I'm surprised, and then I remember that it's LA.
Chevalier
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:31 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

That's right, Bunnylebowski. No need for psychiatry when we have ... Scientology.

(Just kidding. Really. Scientology is The Blue-Uniformed Beast That Ate Hollywood Boulevard.)
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:29 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

I will let you decide which side to take on the issue of subject....but I take issue with the "Humans are dualistic creatures" line. I would be more along with notion that humans are schizophrenic creatures, and this makes us special. We can collapse two diametrically opposed notions into a singularity.

I, for one, relish in that notion.
Bunnylebowski
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:23 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Leave it to psychiatry to ruin all that is unique and exciting and troublesome with a person. How idiotic to treat passion for both creation and destruction as a disease that must be cured. Humans are dualistic creatures, and modern psychiatry still fights against humans very nature. What a waste of time and money.
Underneath it all, many people may want to be house plants that eat some pills that make them level all the time, but then where will the joy from all the highs and lows come from?

Meanwhile, look at all the families and lives that have been forever scarred by faith in Repressed Memory Syndrome, which is what psychiatry always resorts to when it is unsuccessful. Unhappy? Must have been molested by your father!

Anyway, this is all slightly off subject. Your poem is certainly not a "failure". It is wrathful, but the real question is to whom or what is it wrathful?
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:22 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

"weeee! I can almost accuse you of being a romantic."

Do it...I double dare you...
Admin
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 5:15 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post


Quote:

I called her Lucrezia. We had a year or so of constant contact in which we grew to hate each other in a wonderful way. It is like an honor among thieves, we have both destroyed the others illusions of security




weeee! I can almost accuse you of being a romantic.
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 4:53 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

"She must have been something else!...None of it has to do with NOW or the moment."


She was interesting, not in her beauty or in her abilities, but in her ability to deceive and make me honestly feel as if I were threatened. I called her Lucrezia. We had a year or so of constant contact in which we grew to hate each other in a wonderful way. It is like an honor among thieves, we have both destroyed the others illusions of security, and in that, there is a withholding of passionate or vocal disdain. But now, after she has been seeing a therapist, accuses me of psychological damage. It is tripe, and probably just a ploy to lure me into something degrading.

As for the temporal remark. I attempt to write most of my poems in the past tense in a passive/subjunctive voice. In some ways this poem is a failure, one chief measure is that the poem is not about love at all. It perhaps has a voice of longing ("sipping from your well") but is profoundly wrathful.

- J
Bunnylebowski
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 4:24 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

She must have been something else! Most one night flings inspire in me nothing close to what is your poem.
The main thing I find interesting is that everything in the poem has to do with the past, or memory, or the hell of hope. None of it has to do with NOW or the moment.

Perhaps I'm getting a little too pyschoanalytical, but memory is not life or love. I view love as a willingness to part with your ego for a moment, and finally accept with open arms that you can connect with another human, and trust them! To trust them without an expectation of trust in return. To be willing to accept that you can be completed by another person. And the willingness to treat them as an equal even if they don't meet your expectations. It's next to impossible to do. And once you've done that, and truly felt what it is like to love and be loved, and then LOST that, THAT's when you encounter the Well and the Woe.

Sadly, I don't think I'll ever be able to express any of that in poetry, no matter how much absinthe I drink or how many loves I've failed to keep...
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 3:30 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Is this a case in which what you do not say is really what should be taken as what you mean?
_Blackjack
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 3:23 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

It's acrostically delicious.
Head_Prosthesis
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 3:11 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

"placing within me a profundity of doubt which prevents me from future meaningful relationships."

You turned her out,
You mack daddy you!
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 3:08 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Honestly it is a "traditional" translation that is not the best linguistically, but really captures some of the literary method of the scripture (compare, "Spare the rod, spoil the child" in proverbs). I think it is from the real 1611 edition of the KJV, most KJV are from the second edition in the 1700's I believe.

I just read it backwards and find it....backwards. The poem is actually about a person I had a one night "fling" with a few years ago. She was a beautiful modeling corpse with a taste for Hegel, and I found it captivating. Now she accuses me of "placing within me a profundity of doubt which prevents me from future meaningful relationships."

This poem was sent as my reply.

- J
Bunnylebowski
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 2:57 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

I decided to read it backwards, line by line, and felt it to be even more about my notion of love when read in reverse. It begins with the reality of drowning, and the fear drowning inspires, and ends with a beautiful but perhaps deadly illusion, which will of course lead you to drown if it is pursued. Seems quite circular to me. No "weal" here, only woe. The pun on weal is very appropriate.

My version of Isaiah 45:7 says this : "I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the LORD do all these things."
It means basically the same thing, but I'm curious what version you're reading. Mine is of course the KJV.
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 2:47 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

you got it head...send me your address and I will get something neat out to you soon...

- J
Head_Prosthesis
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 2:46 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

I am still sipping from your well...
Head_Prosthesis
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 2:44 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

I wrote a poem once...

K Y Jelly
Rub it on yer belly

If yer butt is dry
Rub it where it's smelly
Chrysippvs
Posted on Wednesday, June 26, 2002 - 2:34 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

For your consideration, I was told that I could not write a love poem, and on that wager, I did so. The meter is loose Hexameters with no rhyme mechanism. You will no doubt notice that the title is a pun on Isaiah 45:7 where God describes himself as the "weal and the woe."

For your trouble, There is something hidden in the poem itself, a code if you will, the first one to find it will be rewarded with something quite nice.
_______________________________________

The Well and the Woe

In that rapturous melody one hears tolling bells
Amongst the rolling sea foam, caressing the lone beach
Mindful always of that which was and cannot be.
Sounding in the distance, the bells of hope and shame
That ineffable sound which draws one near the grave
Inescapable and loving bells toll for me…

Long lost, the days of blind fumbling toward the beach
Longing to bathe in the lethe, longing to return
Severe is the wrath of time and fate upon men
In that of which is out lot, some stand defiant
Placed on the beach by will, we cannot blame old God
Plead with fate, while she beckons onward and onward…

Industrious beauty you have scourged me this day
Nothing sickly sweet will prevent my wrath and shame
Get your fleam and let your blood, an adequate price
For your sins, frozen cocytus will be your home
Ravaged by time and date, one has learned dire secrets
Of death and will, the geometry of the “is”…

Mortified in my cell, your hidden treachery
You defiler of churches, you sweet lecher
On the pyre one commits the memory of you
Unknown and still, the bells clamor and beach roars
Return, with wisdom, from beneath the waves to me
Whilst you descend, pray that ice will form atop you…

Even below the lethen waves you will then drown
Long lost will be your profane wisdom your warm touch
Languish in the lethen deep, lungs filled with froth…


__________________________________

- J

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