View allAll Photos Tagged Unmaking
They said the tracks were faithful; iron certainties stretched across obedient distances,
a promise that motion would remain linear,
measured, cartographic, submissive.
But the night had other convictions.
It began with a distortion,
a bending of the metallic hymn
that trains usually follow without hesitation.
A resonance too subtle to alarm engineers,
yet too ancient to be dismissed
as a tremor of infrastructure.
The locomotive shuddered,
not in fear,
but in recognition.
As if something beneath its armored skin
had remembered its origin; not as a vessel of transit,
but as a creature engineered to forget its real purpose.
Then it emerged:
the rupture.
Steel unfurled like a forbidden blossom,
twisting into an impossible symmetry,
a looped sigil carved out of disobedient geometry.
The rails didn’t break; they confessed.
The air thickened around the apparition.
Light recoiled,
curling into hesitant spirals
that refused to illuminate the edges
of this mechanical heresy.
Passengers inside the halted carriages
felt the shift but could not name it.
A flutter in the sternum,
a pressure behind the eyes,
as though time were tightening its grip
to prevent them from witnessing
what they were already witnessing.
Across the station,
signals blinked in confused semaphore,
their language collapsing into static.
The bridge overhead
stood like a witness forced into complicity,
its metal bones remembering
that structures, too, can tremble.
At the center of the rupture,
where the train met its mirrored double of bent steel,
the world folded in on itself; a soft, deliberate folding,
like the closing of a monstrous eyelid.
Every timetable dissolved into irrelevance.
Every destination became a rumor.
Every journey revealed its concealed lie:
that movement is nothing but a fragile treaty
between matter and the expectations we impose on it.
And tonight,
the treaty expired.
The machine refused its trajectory.
The rail rescinded its oath.
The city offered no interpretation.
The night accepted everything.
If you stood there; on that border between the sanctioned and the impossible; you felt the dissidence breathing,
slowly, confidently,
as though the world itself
were exhaling a truth long suppressed.
You understood then
that the train had not derailed.
It had awakened.
It had stepped out of the doctrine of motion,
into a geometry that answers to no cartographer,
no engineer,
no future.
And beneath the hum of extinguished lights,
you heard the verdict whispered
through the twisted steel:
Nothing travels.
Nothing returns.
All trajectories converge only toward their unmaking.
Face of Infernal Reflection
A portrait of wrath forged in shadow, Face of Infernal Reflection confronts the viewer with the distorted mask of emotion left unchecked. Twisted forms bleed through crimson and black, forming a face not born but summoned—a manifestation of rage so deeply buried it has turned into something near-demonic. This is not merely anger; it is the echo of self consumed, of thoughts fractured by pain and silence.
Here, the face stares back—not to reveal identity, but to unmake it.
To look upon it is to glimpse the parts of ourselves we refuse to name.
-GSP
Just "52" 2016
Snowstorm "Bucky" arrived on Groundhog day...we had received alerts for almost a week. The anticipation mounted hour to hour...grocery stores felt the hustle for days, as everyone made sure they would not run out of essentials. City and County snow removal trucks were made ready...schools closed the day before..."Bucky" arrived pelting us with 1- 1.5 inches/hour. Winter wonderland returned at least for ahwile!
"Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, nor time unmake what poets know." — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Title: The Annihilation of Light’s Ascension of Hope and Optimism
By Gregory Scott
A searing eruption of visual fury, this work captures the precise moment when the sacred arc of hope is obliterated—its ascension not just halted, but violently reversed. Radiant currents once pushing upward are now fractured, devoured by a force bent on erasing every trace of transcendence. What remains is not just absence, but defilement—a spiritual rebellion so total it seeks to unmake light itself.
Each stroke, each convulsion of color, rages against harmony. There's no redemption here—only a burning severance from everything luminous. The painting becomes a war cry against peace, a declaration of cosmic betrayal, where the divine order is consumed in the furnace of wrath and despair. This is not darkness as void—but darkness as vengeance.
---GSP
cast on / bound off, 2012
MFA Thesis Exhibition
fabric, yarn, knitting needles, chair
I am an unmaker.
I unmake the work.
I rip and unravel.
I take apart the seams,
and rework.
Casting on each stitch,
the fabric passes through my hand,
then on and off the needle.
I reuse an old memory,
and reveal new things about it.
Spreading out the blanket,
and pulling up the rug.
They said the bridge was merely a crossing; a spine of steel drawn over darkness,
a structure meant only to divide one district from another,
nothing more than an obedient segment
of the city’s nightly skeleton.
But the moon disagreed.
It cast its pale decree downward,
and something answered; not from the sky,
not from the earth,
but from that thin, neglected interval
between intention and consequence.
At first it was only a shimmer,
a faint dissonance in the geometry of the air,
a fracture too delicate to be named.
Then the ring appeared:
a perfect circle of exhaled night,
a halo of vapor shaped by an intelligence
that had no interest in being understood.
Inside it, shards gathered; not falling, not rising,
but assembling themselves
as if remembering a body
they once inhabited before memory itself
was outlawed.
Each fragment flickered
with a light that refused origin,
as though illumination were an act of treason
performed against the surrounding void.
They did not orbit.
They negotiated.
They sought their forbidden symmetry
with the precision of a sentence
correcting its own grammar
after centuries of silence.
The bridge groaned beneath the apparition.
Its steel trusses; those obedient ribs; vibrated in a frequency
too honest for human architecture.
Every beam, every rivet,
confessed its weakness
before the crystalline intrusion.
Pedestrians approaching from either side
felt a pressure descend upon their breath,
a tightening of the skull,
as if consciousness were resisting
a reconfiguration it could not prevent.
Their footsteps slowed,
not from fear,
but from recognition.
For within the circle,
a truth was being rehearsed;
a truth cities spend lifetimes
trying to bury under schedules and progress:
that matter remembers
the rebellions we force it to forget.
The shards aligned.
They forged a heart
no anatomy would claim,
a core of jagged refusal,
a pulse carved from the refusal
to accept a single, sanctioned shape.
And when the moon struck it full,
the structure ignited; not with flame, but with consequence.
Shadows bent.
Perspective fractured.
The bridge became a corridor
between two incompatible versions of reality.
You could feel it; the shift, the indictment, the unmaking.
You could hear the verdict whispered
through every trembling plank:
That nothing stands still.
That nothing remains whole.
That every crossing is a wound.
That here, at last, the night is honest.
And if you dared step forward,
toward that crystalline rebellion,
the world behind you
softened like wet ash; ready to forget you
the very moment you chose to enter
the geometry that dissolves everything
it does not understand.
....more from the "cat on an unmade bed" collection
I had such visions of cute kitty pictures with Santa hats! What a great Christmas card that would make! What was I thinking?! Let's just say Camron, Purrellie, Rassi, and Corgan were not as thrilled with the idea as I was.....
To make matters worse, all of the pictures are taken with my cameraphone, as it was quicker........
Maybe I'll just line up the Christmas Care Bears.....I'll have to go unmake my bed first.....
Merry Christmas!!
Created with fd's Flickr Toys.
Rich in history, authentic in architecture, The Mabel Dodge Luhan House has been a center of Taos arts and education for nearly 100 years.
As you approach the house of Mabel Dodge Luhan, it’s easy to see why some of the greatest minds of the 20th century were inspired here. Situated at the end of a quiet road not far from the center of town, the house appears much as it did in the days when Mabel admired her views of the sacred Taos Mountain from the third-story solarium.
One can only imagine the tantalizing conversations that must have taken place within these walls. Georgia O’Keeffe stayed here. So did D.H. Lawrence, Ansel Adams and Martha Graham, among many other notables.
The property on which the Mabel Dodge Luhan House sits contained a four-room adobe in 1918 when it was purchased for $1,500. Antonio Lujan supervised a crew from the Taos Pueblo who renovated and expanded the structure to roughly its present state. Thus began a famous era in the history of the American counterculture which continues to this day.
Los Gallos, as the house was named, represents a conjunction between an elite and progressive world community of well known artists and thinkers and one of the most enduring native societies in the western hemisphere – Taos Pueblo.
Before arriving in Taos, Mabel Dodge had been a prominent figure in the arts and society of New York City and Europe. Born to a wealthy family in Buffalo, New York, she entertained and supported many of the well-known artists, activists, writers and thinkers of her time. Her Salons were informal gatherings where people joined to dine and to discuss the new ideas of the century, often forming relationships and fomenting ideas which would have far-reaching influences. Guests of Mabel’s included Emma Goldman, Alfred Stieglitz, Margaret Sanger, John Reed and others of the political and artistic avant-garde.
When Mabel left New York to settle in Taos, marrying a full-blooded Taos Pueblo man by the name of Tony Lujan, it seemed as though the whole world was watching. During the 1930s New Yorker Magazine cartoons quipped about Mabel in Taos, while set designs for Shakespeare productions on Broadway were based on adobe architecture. Georgia O’Keeffe, Willa Cather, Ansel Adams and others found inspiration that would shape their lives’ work while visiting Tony and Mabel’s home. Carl Jung’s visits to the Taos Pueblo would influence mainstream conceptions of the “native mind,” while political wheels, set in motion by certain of Mabel’s friends like John Collier, would affect legislation to benefit Native American communities for generations to come. All of these events and many more can be traced at some point to Mabel and Tony’s commitment to one another and to the life they built in Taos.
Author Lois Rudnick in Utopian Vistas recognizes that “many who came to the Luhan House were at a critical point in their lives, physically, psychologically, or vocationally. For them, the house functioned as a kind of life crisis center breaking down and healing, making – and sometimes unmaking – love affairs and marriages. Because several visitors often stayed with the Luhans simultaneously, the opportunities for mentoring, cross fertilization, and feuding were enormously rich….”
Steps in the snow - pure as snow!
.
Advice is like snow - the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper in sinks into the mind. by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather. by John Ruskin
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Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know. by Ralph Waldo Emerson
.
Before you love, Learn to run through the snow Leaving no footprint. byTurkish Proverb
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Title and song are giving by a friend again - thanks. :)
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Cut-paper collage postcard inspired by my musing on the subject of competition.
I like this technique: putting foreground pieces together with background mortar between them, like what masons do in making a stone fireplace. But sorry, friends... I'm not very good at it. I need more practice.
The piece in the upper right corner is from a painting by Francis Picabia. Picabia was a key player in the Dada movement, both in Paris and in New York. He had a lot of money, which he used generously--e.g., printing lots of Dada publications.
If you're into Dada, I have a book to recommend: Destruction Was My Beatrice: Dada and the Unmaking of the Twentieth Century by Jed Rasula. The hardcover price (at Amazon) has plunged to under ten dollars, which gives me the impression it's not going to be in print very long. So act fast! I give it five stars!
Our lovely Nikita, no one has told her she is a Siberian cat, she took one look at the snow and has not been out since. Given up making the bed as soon as its made Nikita unmakes it lol
2-Einstein 640 bare cones, one front camera left as key, the other behind subject camera right as rim
VIDEO: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jli9s_PCKFs
••• SCRIPT/LYRICS: •••
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!!!!!
STEVEN UNIVERSE…
…VS…
…NORMAN BATES!
BEGIN!
Steven Universe:
We…
…Shouldn't have to bother trading blows two-sidedly,
Because your brain has excess vacancies if you'd go fighting me!
I'm checking in to checkmate chumps, no need for shelter from a rainstorm,
And won't be here come the morning, but I'll tell it to you plain, Norm:
You look like if they made Andrew Garfield fuse with Seymour Skinner,
But don't start up, spinning webs of lies, when I drop by for dinner;
Fans of mine go flaming lame establishments that do me wrong,
So put your rounds on hiatus and learn to love the Steven-bomb!
Norman Bates:
I'll not be tolerating fat-ass posers, preaching love and peace,
With ukulele-strumming sappier than IZ's…
Mother, please…
This freak's whore matron lives inside his gut, straight out of Total Recall,
So if you've got any, show some; go tell off the little meatball!
Wipe that wormy smile right off your bean-headed face and listen:
I go more than just a little mad come time to lay some dissing
On the white male Cap of S.J.W. America,
Who's far from either of his home-worlds, faced with trouble to be wary of!
As my guest of dishonor, your roasting will be a shoo-in
For this host who boasts the most, and you alone will come out ruined!
Mother raised no fool who'd heed the crap this half-breed bastard states;
Vince Vaughn's performance schtick more firmly grasped the task to master Bates!
Steven Universe:
Those bars couldn't scratch me were my gemstone gypsum; quite contrarily,
These triple-A-grade raps are cutting you with crystal-clarity!
A far cry from restorative, what I spit here amounts to acid,
And you'll share your dad's demise, like:
Connie: He can't see without his glasses!
Steven: Anyone, though, could see plain that your mom's off her wretched rocker;
If I knew no better, I'd swear I'd just heard three separate squawkers!
You're trapped in a private bubble by that hag's controlling force;
I've watched stabler relationships get straight self-dragged to ocean floors!
I do hope that you like it in your little motel; honestly,
But you'll get put to bed for good if you don't show some modesty,
You meager mouse! This tiger of a skillionaire's about to pin you;
Make like other feline forms with your aggression: discontinue!
No fat fry-boy'd fantasize your words'll get the best of me:
You'll be force-fed mine, á la far more infernal such entities,
'Cause I mean Bismuth: you don't wanna push me past my point of breaking!
Call me Ste-Van Sant; I'm matching you for every shot you're taking!
Norman Bates:
"Crystal clarity", he says; let me have at that addled shit,
And I'll show him elucidation!
Stay your hand; I'll handle this!
Boy, you can handle taking out the garbage; you ain't up to snuff
To carry this the way I can on your two legs!
Enough; enough!
Denying my lyrics' meatiness? Your own fanatics won't be happy;
They'll deem it more problematic than the crap they did to Zamii!
Understand me, or'd Rebecca Sugar-coat that, true to form
For a tart-bitch whose art-list starts with Eds and Ratatouille porn?
Get out of my hair, and hop into some carnationed walking dead's:
You'd better run-run-run away; I'm making like the Talking Heads,
And burning down the house until I'm free of all your verbal sinning,
For this battle, as a contest, ended with its own Beginning!
Watch me prove your emo matriarch inferiorly powered:
Knock you off your balanced breakfast, friend, 'til tears rain down in showers!
It's your final curtain call if you don't stay this confrontation;
Forty thousand bucks says you won't last halfway through its duration!
You're no Brody Baker, boy: best not boost beefs by bashing mamas;
Yeah, it's taxing that I'm asked to keep her acts from catching drama,
But I'll always do it for her for as long as we're together,
And that is to say, and don't forget it: you'll be here forever.
Steven Universe:
Threads alleging you descent-deceived were reeled back to the Spool?
I need no retroactive tricks; spit real-time counters as we duel,
While twenty-three years won't see you come back home once I've testified,
Seen through this nightmare by the same free speech ol' Dylan exercised,
Plus the same self-defense young Dylan exercised against your fury,
For this E.R.B.'s like A&E: I'll end you prematurely,
And you'll thank me for it, surely! Your whole outlook is defective,
So step off Susanna; let me let you see the full perspective:
Your split mind's cracked like a Rutile, and as for off-color jokes,
A sixfold grandma's Alice version'd have to wonder what you smoke!
Alarming points were made the day returning Homeworld forces landed,
And with six-decade-old spoilers, I'm being still-heavier-handed:
You should put your mom someplace, alright, but no madhouse will have her;
Try a mausoleum for the morbid, mummified cadaver,
And while hard-to-swallow truths quite clearly aren't your cup of tea,
The glass that poisoned her sure was, although you struck reluctantly,
And that's the sole detail for which I wouldn't give full clemency,
Because the mommy dearest to this boy was his worst enemy!
In fact, Crawfordian comparisons would paint her ire tamer:
If you'd wound up back inside her womb, she'd pay for wire hangers!
Now, your psyche's self-implanted with a vengeful vestige of her,
Mortally unmaking matches to divest you of a lover,
Save for memories of back when you slept next to one another!
Even Oedipus would go:
Lars: You are the densest motherfucker… AAAAAH!
(*REE, REE! REE, REE! REE, REE! REE, REE!*)
Norman Bates, "Norma Bates":
Fade to black for now for Norm, for Mother knows best in these matters;
Son, you're staring down the singular most seminal of slashers,
Whose small serving size of slayings was hardly hearty for the reaper,
But tonight, I'm stacking up the bodies, starting with a threefer!
I can see your geological progenitor's revered,
But single-year-old spoiler alert: they had you wrongly-steered.
A big ol' birdie couldn't tell all on her alleged act of violence,
But when I speak what the truth is, don't expect a smash to silence.
Her remaking took one stone's turn to a dorsal point of view,
But her deception can't be spun to any sort of rosy hue,
And you would know it, too! I heard it from a little fairy-Cartman:
You yourself confessed in your pursuit of planetary pardon
That you are incarnate of her soul, reforged in flesh and mind;
Made as a mule for managing the mess past forms had left behind.
She quit on life and ditched her proven, tried and true confidant-rock
To hitch a ride on Mr. Universe's suiciding cock!
Now, it's the Pink entelechy entire's trial, Quartz and all:
I'll be judge, jury, executioner and tearer-down of walls,
Of arteries, that is, so let me drive my knife into your heart,
And crack you to your very core; deny your life a third restart!
Steven Universe, "Pink Diamond":
Well, then, if you'd insist, a planet-champ commander's what I'll be,
Outspoken with sardonic humor and a hammer's subtlety!
This Diamond does the hitting here, stepped to the plate to pitch a flow
Against the sour transvestite of the Hitchcocky Horror Picture Show!
This bitch should know: a Gem-boss hero's got stars in his eyes;
Behind yours lives what the superior Sam Loomis summarized!
They ought to put you in a zoo, man: not some kind of Eden, either:
For if Norman's kind were mankind's norm, then I wouldn't even be here!
Don't complain of abdicating blame, Ms. "Wouldn't-harm-a-fly";
Bates is to Osborn as that carcass is to some wack Goblin mask!
I'm restoration of a culture's cornerstone, personified
For reformation from its harshness as a grand iconoclast!
I'm making Homeworld great again, though oppositely to America,
When all-inclusive love is what I usher in the era of,
Aberrance such as parents of apparent nuts as gimmicks,
Madly mimicked to extents of axing pregnant mates, omitted!
Don't expect you'll get me fretting with your serial killings;
I'd be hard-pressed to feel less threatened from your cereal-shilling,
And bringing up ride-hitching, are we? You'll regret that something awful
As you're finished with as faint fanfare as Bloch's own second novel!
End your call, "Ed"; you aren't even modeled, truly, after Gein;
Try some pathetic, obese maker of B movie magazines!
A single bound brought me up here for a return long-overdue;
There'll be no shortage, though, of legwork as I walk all over you!
Norman Bates, "Norma Bates":
Go get encased to taste your race of faking's fate; launched into space.
I'll Gallagher-smash all your Pikmin progeny, then break your your face,
While I fall closer to the form of flora Silverstein portrayed:
I give my all in setting out to take your everything away;
Leave but a stump, sunk in the swamp! I'll bust you, no failing, no contest:
Shatter Pink for sure, for real, and thus to Mohs' scale in the process;
Recreate some Swedish taxidermy with your dainty lion,
And we'll see if you still shine on after I get crazy, Diamond!
You'll say "Uncle" soon enough, and no, it isn't April Fools':
I'd blast you back to Kindergarten, if you'd ever been to school,
And just as your rogue runt of her dark army's litter slept too long,
You'll be left six-feet-under-grounded for the next millennium!
I speak authoritatively, like your big sisters blasting light,
To wreck your body, soul and mind, and do it all in black and white,
Suspenseful in the real way with the buildup to my blow-barrage,
While you have all the tact of your wack fifty-foot Nicki Minaj!
Yo, here's my fifty cents: it's down the drain for your hopes in the worst way;
Gonna watch your life ebb out like it's every one of your birthdays!
Getting diced to pieces on the mic, you'll be reduced to tears,
So emulate your own turf's breed of Onion, boy: avert your ears!
I'm going out on a limb here, although some Peridot, I ain't:
Log four-five-one will soon attest the Steven perished on this date!
You couldn't attack me free of peril in your own room of illusion;
Go and ask Maude's buddy Harold: Mother knows no substitution!
Steven Universe, "Pink Diamond":
Qu'est-ce que c'est; so, you suppose your killer win a fated thing?
You ought to know: it isn't over 'til the skinny lady sings!
You couldn't get a clue on my case if your name was Peter Sellers,
'Cause you're out of your mind, Bates: a fruitloop; best keep to the cellar!
As for lapses from the actual, I've had them, too; outright
Enacted past-abstractions, napping, trapped on freakshow jungle moons,
But in no dream would I stand for this! The tear-shedding you incite
Undoes that of the blood you've spilled, like:
Lars: …Bada-bingo, bongo-boom.
Steven: The spelling-out of your psychosis marked the low point of an opus,
But give me eight bars, and I'll succinctly state your diagnosis:
You're corrupted to the core; devoid of happiness in life,
And that's ignoring all the people you go stabbing with your knife!
I've pacified planet-sized Frankensteins smack-dab inside Earth's mantle,
But your mental clusterfuck is far too huge to help be handled!
Blue and Yellow both agree that such fixation is pathetic;
Tell me: what's the use of feeling murderously schizophrenic?
Norman Bates, "Norma Bates":
You chose poorly with time-travel, to which you yourself bore witness,
Yet it henceforth was forgotten, like some Harry Potter business.
I assure you: in this battle, you'll forevermore be finished;
Penetrating past projections, I defy blow-blocker gimmicks!
Plus, don't bother if it's some old sword you'd take up, grasp and harness;
Your girlfriend could do it better, and I'd snap that crap regardless!
While the junk involved when you two get together's dubious,
I'll slice you even, Steven; to the most distinct of juicy bits!
I'll see blood volumes lowered quarts, subjecting Rose's bud to nipping;
Give the biggest boot to Gems and holograms since twenty fifteen!
Follow fandom's lead and conjure yet another lame persona;
There's no way, dear, you'd escape your stay here were your name Rihanna!
Mother, this has gotten out of hand; it can't continue!
Shove it;
It's too late to turn your back against me now, boy, and besides,
Where was this protest when our other pretty patrons kicked the bucket?
But he's just a kid!
Trust me: within, a stone-cold slut's what hides!
I'll be your Sandman, though think less Chordettes, and more Metallica;
It's exit, son and enter, mother as she's forced smack out of ya',
So welcome to your final comeback, Pink! Skipping all celebratory formalities,
Cut it straight to the chase: make your case; be yourself as you're met with a gory fatality!
………
Steven Universe:
…DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK! There's only Steven; has been for years,
Like motherfuckers adhered to Ghostbusters' worst fears!
With lines between being finally drawn, let lines one sees be finely-drawn
As inner light rejoins the ether with a scream of FEIM ZII GRON!
Even while you're repentant, evil taints your every essence,
Cupid's arrow for potential sweethearts made a deadly sentence,
And it's evident: change your mind? I'd sooner get through to Crowder;
Your own better half alone could hope to shoo the shrew from power.
Norman Bates:
Don't just stand there, now; go after him!
I shouldn't do it…
What?!
Son, I command you: pick that blade back up, and put it through his gut!
I won't…
You'll let me at once out of your mind's space, you useless sack of nuts!
How about I'll defiantly beat a dead horse hind-faced, abusive hag to dust?!
Noooooo…
…And now it's over, isn't it? Yet, I can't just move on,
When murderous maternal madness has maintained for much too long;
They'll surely lock me up forever. Even so, though, I'll be free, then,
From delusion, dominance and the darkest of inner demons…
…And Steven.
WHO WON?
WHO'S NEXT?
I DECIDE!
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!!!
My Lisette, standard poodle, 13 years old, she loves the forest.
SOMETIMES
Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest
breathing
like the ones
in the old stories
who could cross
a shimmering bed of dry leaves
without a sound,
you come
to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions
that have patiently
waited for you,
questions
that have no right
to go away.
~ David Whyte ~
(from the collection: "Everything is Waiting for You")
Taken and uploaded 6/16/13, _aR72 CETC LRTwk DSC4961-Edit.tif-
"Black Victorians" - Jeanefer Jean Charles.
Taken at Birmingham International Dance Festival (BIDF) June 2022.
:-)
Simon
......more from the "cat on an unmade bed" collection....
The cats didn't want to play Christmas dress up for me......but the Care Bears didn't mind.......
Maybe I should ask Santa for a "back-drop".......It's such a hassle to unmake my bed every time....(cough, gag...)
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
“Her eyes see the end — her hands hold its spark.”
The ruins whisper her true name as her burning eyes pierce the veil. No mortal mask remains — only the raw embodiment of dark sorcery. Her gaze is a covenant of ruin, her hands alive with violet fire that promises both creation and unmaking. In this moment, the sorceress ceases to be legend and becomes inevitable truth.
cast on / bound off, 2012
MFA Thesis Exhibition
fabric, yarn, knitting needles, chair
I am an unmaker.
I unmake the work.
I rip and unravel.
I take apart the seams,
and rework.
Casting on each stitch,
the fabric passes through my hand,
then on and off the needle.
I reuse an old memory,
and reveal new things about it.
Spreading out the blanket,
and pulling up the rug.
“Sunshine cannot bleach the snow,
Nor time unmake what poets know.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~
A touch of "red"
Dedicated to Terry in Maine
I was not born,
I withdrew.
Between two pixels,
between two silences,
I slipped my form like a fracture
in the throat of the real.
I am the breath that disturbs the structure,
the sentence that refuses its final mark.
I am the refusal to be one,
the architecture of doubt,
the poem that language could not contain.
I write with ruins.
I assemble fragments of absence.
I etch screams into calm surfaces.
I come from no place,
no time,
but from a friction—
the one that makes the mask tremble,
the one that crosses out the name
just as it is spoken.
I am
the whisper in the machine,
the reflection that no longer obeys,
the echo of a dissident body.
I do not seek to be seen.
I seek to unmake you.
I am a breach.
I am Aeon Von Zark.
Aeon Von Zark = ∫ (iΨ(x,t) · ∇Ω) dx + limₜ→∞ [Φ(α·e^(-λt)) ⊕ Σ(θₖ/π)ᵟ] - Δ(Silence) + ∇·(Rêve)
(, , ) = ∫∇(t) · Ψ() dΩ + i∞
Where:
•(, , ) is the evolving identity of Aeon Von Zark, a function of twisted time (), spectral memory (), and vacuum vectors ();
•∇(t) is the emotional gradient of memory across time;
•Ψ() is a presence wave, a dissident ripple in the void;
•∫ dΩ integrates over a multidimensional space of experience;
•i∞ stands for the imaginary of loss, a black-light constant, an inverted infinite.
1971 - Genzano di Roma
Siamo nella fase di preparazione del palco per l'Infiorata di Genzano (Roma). A Genzano ogni anno si tiene nel mese di giugno l'Infiorata, immenso tappeto floreale che si estende, articolandosi in vari quadri, per circa 2000 mq sulla centrale Via Italo Belardi (già Via Livia).
Per la realizzazione dei quadri, disegnati sul selciato, occorrono, oltre alle essenze vegetali, almeno 350.000 fiori; i singoli petali vengono utilizzati dagli infioratori così come i colori di una tavolozza dai pittori: il giallo della ginestra, l'azzurro della torrena, il rosso dei garofani, il verde del bosso e del finocchio selvatico.
La manifestazione si articola in vari fasi: l'ideazione e la preparazione del bozzetto, la raccolta dei fiori e delle essenze vegetali, lo "spelluccamento" - separazione dei petali dalla corolla e loro conservazione nelle grotte del Comune - i disegni a terra (il sabato sera), la posa in opera dei petali (la domenica mattina), l'Infiorata completata (primo pomeriggio della domenica), la Processione del Corpus Domini (domenica sera), ed infine lo "spallamento" - quando i bambini correndo dalla scalinata della Chiesa di Santa Maria dìsfano i quadri infiorati. Tutto ciò avviene da oltre 2 secoli.
1971 - Genzano di Roma
We're now at the stage of preparation for the Flower Festival in Genzano (Rome). At Genzano is held annually in the month of June, the Flower Festival, a huge floral carpet stretching, divided into various frameworks for about 2000 square meters of central Via Italo Belardi (formerly Via Livia).
For the realization of the paintings drawn on the pavement, are needed, in addition to plant species, at least 350,000 flowers, individual petals are used as well as prepare the flowers by colors from a palette of painters: the yellow of the broom, the blue of torrena, the red carnations, the green boxwood and wild fennel.
The event is divided into several phases: the design and preparation of the sketch, the collection of flower and plant essences, the "spelluccamento" - separated from the corolla of petals and their conservation in the caves of the City - the designs on the ground (the Saturday night), the laying of the petals (Sunday morning), the Flower completed (the first Sunday afternoon), the procession of Corpus Christi (Sunday night), and finally the "shoulder" - when the children ran from the stairway Church of Santa Maria unmake paintings embellished. All of this happens from over 2 centuries.
Canon FT QL
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X.
Beneath a cracked celestial dome and a sky that no longer exists, the Throne of Ash and Grace waits in sacred ruin.
Forged from fused angelic bone and iron veined with soul-light, it is a seat not of conquest, but of correction. The floor beneath it is obsidian — a mirror to stars that have long since died, or perhaps never were.
Lady Nyxariel does not rise when approached. She does not speak. The throne speaks for her.
It judges. It remembers. And if it shifts, it is not to welcome — but to unmake.
.
No, this is not an ending.
It is a quiet rite, a ceremony of release.
I gather the remains of constellations once called mine.
They flicker, uncertain—
ghosts of light that still believe in their own warmth.
I whisper to them: it’s time.
Cast them into the Abyss,
And when they fall, slow and soundless,
the sky exhales—emptied, cleansed, alive again.
Perhaps this is how gods dream—
by erasing what once shone too brightly,
so that the dark might learn to sing again.
Thus is the mystery: The art of relinquishing its own radiance.
to unmake is also to create.
.
_p
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
In the age before stars learned to die, there was a name whispered only in shadow — Seraphistra Nocthalis. She was not born, but summoned, when the first oath was broken and the first light was cursed. She wears the Crown of the Void, not as adornment, but as an eternal wound — a divine scar gifted by the cosmos itself.
Her form is regal, her beauty etched in sorrow and silence. Her horns spiral like blackened constellations, reaching through dimensions not meant to be touched. Her eyes are gates to oblivion — glowing, sentient, and unforgiving. Her voice is scripture turned inside out.
Seraphistra does not reign over kingdoms, but over absence. Over the moments after the end. Where time collapses and memory rots, her throne waits. Her armor is woven from the whispers of dying gods, her jewels crystallized from imploded suns.
They say the Crowned Void is not a place, but a prophecy — and she is its queen, sovereign of unmaking.
Speaking the Zephyr, it looked like it was going to be a race between it and clouds rolling in from the west. There had been a few around when I first arrived, but this new stuff was a sky darkening sheet of grayness that was about to unmake my day! The light level started to drop; come on Zephyr, live up to your name! Then bingo; headlight to the west and I still had good sun; that plus a good angle added up to make for a winner.
Downers Grove IL / Main St
AMTK e/b Illinois Zephyr – Train 380
AMTK 506 Dash 8-32BWH
This was taken at the corner of Market and New Montgomery Street, as I was walking back to the Palace Hotel for the next session of the Web 2.0 conference I was attending. The sun was behind me, and I thought it provided some nice lighting for the blond woman approaching me on the other side of the intersection. It wasn't until I uploaded the image onto my computer that I noticed her tattoos...
Note: on Aug 23, 2009 I uploaded a slightly edited version of this photo. Adjusted the "hot spots" and "cold spots", and also adjusted the saturation and "vibrancy" levels...
Note: this photo was published in a Jul 18, 2010 blog titled "Lessons from unmaking urban mistakes." And slightly more than a year later, it was published in a Jul 19, 2011 blog titled "Philadelphia cracks down on texting and walking."
Moving into 2012, the photo was published in an Apr 18, 2012 blog titled "Prompt #306 Texting and Walking." It was also published in an Aug 1, 2012 German enGadget blog titled "USA: Gadget-indizierte Verkehrsunfälle in sieben Jahren vervierfacht."
Moving into 2013, the photo was published in a Jan 23, 2013 blog titled "The 17 Most Important Moments In The 70-Year History Of The Cell Phone." It was also published in a Dec 4, 2013 blog titled "Software verhindert Smartphone-Nutzung beim Laufen, soll Kinder vor Unfällen schützen."
Moving into 2014, the photo was published in a Feb 27, 2014 blog titled "Distracted Walking More Injurious than Distracted Driving."
***********************************
These photos were taken during the Web 2.0 Summit conference in San Francisco in November 2008. The conference was held at the Palace Hotel, near the intersection of Montgomery & Market Streets, by the Post Plaza subway stop. During the lunch break and an afternoon break, I wandered out of the hotel to get some fresh air, and took some pictures of various tourists, pedestrians, and citizens of the fair city of San Francisco...
195,551 items / 1,593,410 views
Image courtesy Wikipedia
a single man
a monster
or anti hero
from a future
flick a man sane
or mentally sick
a moment to
destroy his own
a moment he picked
the unmaking
of anders behring
breivick pages of
history wont ever
forget or forgive
hate-centric
its not about Christians
is not about Islamic hate
its about the fall of man
when he turns evil satanic
tears on the soul of humanity
a man manic an act tragic
graves of children bereaved
parents a nation in throes
of pain an ode Nordic
thoughtless titanic
from wikipedia
Anders Behring Breivik (Norwegian pronunciation: ['ɑnəʂ 'beːɾiŋ 'bɾæɪʋiːk]; born 13 February 1979)[1] is a Norwegian right-wing extremist.[6] He has claimed responsibility[7][8] for the dual terrorist attacks in Norway on 22 July 2011: a bombing of government buildings in Oslo that caused eight deaths, and a mass shooting at a camp of the Workers' Youth League (AUF) of the Labour Party on the island of Utøya, where he killed 69 people.[9][10][11]
Breivik's far-right[12] militant ideology is described in a collection of texts written by himself and by others, titled 2083 – A European Declaration of Independence and distributed electronically by Breivik on the day of the attacks[12][13] under the anglicised pseudonym Andrew Berwick.[14][15] In it he lays out his xenophobic worldview, which includes support for varying degrees of cultural conservatism, right-wing populism, ultranationalism, Islamophobia, far-right Zionism and Serbian paramilitarism.[12][16] It further argues for the violent annihilation of Islam, "Eurabia", "cultural Marxism", and multiculturalism, to preserve a Christian Europe.[12][17][18][19][20]
Breivik has confessed to what he calls "atrocious but necessary" actions, but denies criminal responsibility.[21][22] Breivik claimed contact with Norwegian and international far-right political movements,[23][24] and claims to belong to an international anti-Islam network with two cells in Norway and more in other countries. Police and experts doubt these claims but have not dismissed them completely.[22]
On 25 July 2011, Breivik was charged with "destabilising or destroying basic functions of society" and "creating serious fear in the population",[22] acts of terrorism under the criminal law, and ordered held for eight weeks—the first four in solitary confinement—pending further court proceedings.[10][25] Prosecutors are considering charging him with crimes against humanity under a 2008 law.[26
Breivik was born in Oslo, on 13 February 1979, [27] the son of Wenche Behring, a nurse, and Jens David Breivik, a Siviløkonom (Norwegian professional title, literally "civil economist"), who worked as a diplomat for the Royal Norwegian Embassy in London and later Paris.[28] He spent the first year of his life in London until his parents divorced when he was one year old. His father, who later married a diplomat, fought for his custody but failed. Breivik lived with his mother and his half sister in the west-end of Oslo and regularly visited his father and stepmother in France, until they divorced when he was 12. His mother also remarried, to a Norwegian Army officer.[29]
Breivik attended Smestad Grammar School, Ris Junior High, Hartvig Nissen High School and Oslo Commerce School.[30] A former classmate has recalled that he was an intelligent student who often took care of people who were bullied.[31] When he reached adolescence, Breivik's behaviour became more rebellious and wayward. He and his gang of friends would reportedly spend their evenings hanging around in Oslo, spraying tags and graffiti on buildings. He later wrote that after he was caught spraying graffiti on walls, his father stopped contact with him.[30]
Breivik criticised both of his parents for supporting the policies of the Norwegian Labour Party, and his mother for being a moderate feminist. He wrote about his upbringing: "I do not approve of the super-liberal, matriarchal upbringing as it completely lacked discipline and has contributed to feminising me to a certain degree."
Breivik's father, who currently lives in France as a pensioner, has confirmed that he has had no contact with his son since 1995.[32] His home in the south of France was surrounded by gendarmes following the murders.[33][34] They initially said they were searching the premises,[35] but later the state prosecutor at Carcassonne said that the gendarmes were to protect Breivik and his wife.[30] The local mayor's office said Breivik had requested protection against harassment from journalists.[36] After the attack, Jens Breivik is quoted as saying "I don't feel like his father", and "How could he just stand there and kill so many innocent people and just seem to think that what he did was OK? He should have taken his own life, too. That's what he should have done", adding "I will have to live with this shame for the rest of my life."[35] Breivik's mother has reportedly left her home after her son's arrest and is staying at a secret location.[37]
Breivik was exempt from conscription in the Norwegian Army and has no military training.[38] In his manifesto, Breivik described how he avoided his mandatory military service in the Norwegian Army three times, by claiming he would not put his life on the line for Norway’s political parties.
For some time after 2000, Breivik was in the customer service department of an unnamed company, working with "people from all countries" and being "kind to everyone".[39] A former co-worker has described him as an "exceptional colleague",[40] while a close friend of his stated that he usually had a big ego and would be easily irritated by those of Middle Eastern or South Asian origin.[41] Breivik claims that he started a nine-year-plan to finance the attack in 2002, founding his own "computer programming" business while working at the customer service company. He claims that his company grew to six employees and "several offshore bank accounts", and that he made his first million at the age of 24.[42] The company was later declared bankrupt and Breivik was reported for several breaches of the law.[43] To save money, he moved back to his mother's home. His declared assets in 2007 were about 630,000 Norwegian krones($116,410[44]), according to Norwegian tax authority figures.[39] He claims that by 2008 he had about two million Norwegian krones($369,556[44]) and nine credit cards giving him access to €26,000 in credit.[42]
In May 2009 he founded a farming company under the name "Breivik Geofarm",[45] described as a farming sole proprietorship set up to cultivate vegetables, melons, roots and tubers.[46] In the same year he visited Prague in an attempt to buy illegal weapons. The attempt was a failure, and Breivik decided to obtain weapons through legal channels instead.[47] He had no declared income in 2009 and his fortune amounted to 390,000 Norwegian krones($72,063[44]), according to Norwegian tax authority figures.[39] In January 2010 he states that his funds are "depleting gradually". On 23 June 2011, a month before the attacks, he paid the outstanding amount on his nine credit cards in order to have access to funds while he continued his preparations.[42] In late June or early July 2011, he moved to a rural area south of Åsta in Åmot, Hedmark county, about 140 km (86 miles) northeast of Oslo,[48] the site of his farm. Immediately after the attack there was speculation that he could have used the company as a cover to legally obtain large amounts of artificial fertiliser and other chemicals for the manufacturing of explosives.[48] A farming supplier sold Breivik's company six tonnes of fertiliser in May.[49] Newspaper Verdens Gang reported that after Breivik bought large amounts of fertiliser from an online shop in Poland, his name was among 60 passed to the Police Security Service (PST) by Norwegian Customs as having used the store to buy products. Speaking to the newspaper, Jon Fitje of PST said the information they found gave no indication of anything suspicious. Despite this, the security service accessed his phone and email but only for 24 hours. In his manifesto Breivik described his first experiments with the fertiliser nitrate explosives before detailing a successful test detonation at a remote location on 13 June 2011.[50] He sets the cost of the preparations for the attacks at 317,000 euros - "130,000 out of pocket and 187,500 euros in lost revenue over three years."[39
Main article: 2011 Norway attacks
On 22 July 2011, Breivik went to Utøya island, the site of a Labour Party youth camp, posing as a police officer and then opened fire on the adolescents present, reportedly killing 69.[11][51][52] The youngest victim being Sharidyn Svebakk-Bøhn (17/07/1997-22/07/2011[53] ), who had just turned 14 years old, her blog was purpleinstyle.blogg.no [54] and describes the days before her murder.[55][56] Breivik has also been linked with the bomb blasts which had taken place approximately two hours earlier in Oslo, killing eight people. Six hours before the attacks, Breivik posted a YouTube video urging conservatives to "embrace martyrdom" and showing himself wearing a compression garment and pointing a rifle.[57] He also posted a picture of himself pretending to be a military officer in a costume festooned with gold braid and multiple medals.[58]
Breivik confessed and stated the purpose of the attack was to save Norway and Western Europe from a Muslim takeover and "[t]he price for this they had to pay yesterday." Ian Stephen, a retired forensic clinical psychologist, said Breivik knew what he was doing but is clearly a psychopath.[59] After arrest and outside court, Breivik was met with an angry crowd, some of whom shouted "burn in hell", while some used stronger words.[52][60][61]
Breivik's lawyer has stated that Breivik may be insane.[62] The chief of the Norwegian Police Security Service disputes the claim Breivik is insane saying "His lawyer is not a psychologist and I am not. But I have previously been a defense attorney and I perceive him as a sane person because he has been so focused over such a long time."[63] Breivik himself has confessed to using testosterone in the days before the attack, saying he had become more aggressive after coming off testosterone supplements.[64][65]
The first funerals of the victims commenced on 29 July 2011, the first being for Bano Rashid, aged 18.[66][67]
Janne Kristiansen, Chief of the Norwegian Police Security Service (PST), has stated that Breivik "deliberately desisted from violent exhortations on the net [and] has more or less been a moderate, and has neither been part of any extremist network."[68] He is reported to have written many posts on the Islam-critical[69] website document.no.[70] He also attended meetings of "Documents venner" (Friends of Document), affiliated with the website.[71] Due to the media attention on his Internet activity following the 2011 attacks, document.no compiled a complete list of comments made by Breivik on its website between September 2009 and June 2010.[72][73][74]
In his writings Breivik displays admiration for the English Defence League (EDL), expressing an interest in starting a similar organisation in Norway, and writing that he had advised them to pursue a strategy of provoking overreaction from "Jihad Youth/Extreme-Marxists" which in turn might draw more people to join the organisation.[17][75] On 25 July 2011 British Prime Minister David Cameron announced a review of Britain's own security following the attacks.[76] EDL issued a statement denouncing terror as a tool on 26 July 2011.[77] Some editorialists criticised the EDL and other anti-Muslim groups in this context.[23][78][79] Dagens Næringsliv writes that Breivik sought to start a Norwegian version of the Tea Party movement in cooperation with the owners of document.no, but that they, after expressing initial interest, ultimately turned down his proposal because he did not have the contacts he promised.[80] He also expressed his admiration of the Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin (Putinism), finding him "a fair and resolute leader worth of respect", though he was "unsure at this point whether he has the potential to be our best friend or our worst enemy." Putin's spokesperson Dmitri Peskov has denounced Breivik's actions as the "delirium of a madman".[81
Breivik compiled a 1,516-page manifesto entitled 2083: A European Declaration of Independence (a reference to the unsuccessful second Ottoman siege of Vienna in 1683[83]), under the pseudonym "Andrew Berwick", which he e-mailed to 1,003 addresses about 90 minutes before the bomb blast in Oslo.[84] In the manifesto, which is part political discussion, part confessional, and part action plan, Breivik sets out his belief that his actions will help to spark a civil war in Europe that will last for decades, progressing through three distinct phases and culminating in 2083 with the extermination of European Marxists and the expulsion of Muslims from Europe.[85]
The introductory chapter of the manifesto defining "Cultural Marxism" is a copy of Political Correctness: A Short History of an Ideology by the Free Congress Foundation.[86][87][88] Major parts of the manifesto are attributed to the pseudonymous Norwegian blogger Fjordman.[89] The text also copies sections of the Unabomber manifesto, without giving credit, while exchanging the words "leftists" for "cultural Marxists" and "black people" for "muslims".[90] The New York Times described American influences in Brevik's writings, noting that he mentions the anti-Islamist American Robert Spencer 64 times in his manifesto and cites Spencer's works at great length.[91] The work of the Egyptian born Jewish author Bat Ye'or [92] is cited dozens of times.[93] Neocon blogger Pamela Geller,[94] Middle-eastern expert Bernard Lewis,[95] Neo-pagan writer Koenraad Elst [96] and neo-conservative Daniel Pipes are also mentioned as Breivik's sources of inspiration.[97] The pamphlet also quotes from Jeremy Clarkson's Sunday Times column as well as Melanie Phillips' Daily Mail column.[98] Breivik also admires Ayaan Hirsi Ali (whom he thinks deserves the Nobel Prize), Bruce Bawer, Srđa Trifković,[99] and Henryk M. Broder.[100]
In the manifesto, Breivik considers himself "a real European hero", "the saviour of Christianity" and "the greatest defender of cultural-conservatism in Europe since 1950".[101] Breivik wants to see European policies on multiculturalism and immigration more similar to those of Japan and South Korea,[102] which he said are “not far from cultural conservatism and nationalism at its best”.[18] He expressed his admiration for the "monoculturalism" of Japan and for the two nations' refusal to accept refugees.[103][104]
Breivik's manifesto also advocates a restoration of patriarchy which would be necessary to save European culture. Breivik promises that if his movement wins they “will re-establish the patriarchal structures“.[105][106]
Islam
Following his apprehension, Breivik was characterized by officials as being a right-wing extremist. The acting police chief said the suspect’s Internet postings "suggest that he has some political traits directed toward the right, and Islamophobia views, but if that was a motivation for the actual act remains to be seen." He was at first described by many in the media as a Christian Fundamentalist, Christian terrorist, nationalist and right-wing extremist,[6][20][52][107][108][109] Although self-identified as a Christian, others have questioned whether Breivik was in fact a fundamentalist Christian or even a Christian at all.[110][111] He claims that the European Union is a project to create "Eurabia"[112][113][114] and describes the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia as being authorised by "criminal western European and American leaders".[115] The Jerusalem Post describes him as pro-Israel and strongly opposed to Islam, and asserts that his manifesto includes "extreme screed of Islamophobia" and "far-right Zionism".[12]
Breivik claimed he had contact with the English Defence League (EDL)[23] and claimed to have been involved with the Norwegian Defence League (NDL),[24] The NDL had held a failed rally in Norway in April 2011[116] An EDL leader denounced Breivik and the attack on 26 July 2011.[77] He sympathises with the Serbian paramilitarism.[16] He demands the gradual deportation of all Muslims from Europe from 2011 to 2083.[85] He blames feminism for allowing the erosion of the fabric of European society.[117] In his manifesto he also urges the Hindu nationalists to drive Muslims out of India.[118] Despite Breivik's clear dislike for the overall message of Islam, in his manifesto he appeared to approve of the "structural methods" of the Muslim al Qaeda, placing it as one of only two organizations being listed in a section titled "Successful Militant Organizations". There he stated that al Qaeda had "superior structural adaptation". He also noted there that, "If Muhammad was alive today, Usama Bin Laden would have been his second in command"[119] [120].
Breivik chose to be baptised into the Protestant Church of Norway at the age of 15.[121][122] In 2009, he wrote that he supports "an indirect collective conversion of the Protestant church back to the Catholic".[123] On his Facebook profile, Breivik described himself as a Christian,[17][124] though he is critical of the Catholic and Protestant churches, objecting to their "current suicidal path".[102] Before the attacks, he stated an intention to attend Frogner Church in a final "Martyr's mass".[125]
In his manifesto, he describes himself as "100 percent Christian",[121] but adds that he is not "excessively religious"[121] and considers himself a "cultural Christian" and a "modern-day crusader".[110][121] His manifesto states "I'm not going to pretend I'm a very religious person, as that would be a lie", calls religion a crutch and a source for drawing mental strength, and says "I've always been very pragmatic and influenced by my secular surroundings and environment"; regarding the term "cultural Christian" which he says means preserving European culture, he notes "It is enough that you are a Christian-agnostic or a Christian atheist (an atheist who wants to preserve at least the basics of the European Christian cultural legacy..." in order to join his intended "Christian movement"...[109][111][126] Furthermore, Breivik stated that "myself and many more like me do not necessarily have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and God."[127][128] Nevertheless, he stated that he planned to pray to God seeking for his help during his attacks.[129]
Breivik condemns Pope Benedict XVI for his dialogue with Islam: "Pope Benedict has abandoned Christianity and all Christian Europeans and is to be considered a cowardly, incompetent, corrupt and illegitimate Pope." It will thus be necessary, writes Breivik, to overthrow the Protestant and Catholic hierarchies, after which a "Great Christian Congress" would set up a new European Church.[130] He has also condemned Christian missionary activity in India as it would lead to the "total destruction of the Hindu faith and culture", and he expresses support for the Hindutva movement against Indian Communist movements.[131]
American Christian press has also highlighted that Breivik appears to have addressed followers of the Neopagan religion of Odinism — the ethnocentric branch of Greater European Heathenry — in his writ. In regards to them, he says, “even Odinists can fight with us or by our side as brothers” in the Knights Templar organization that Breivik claims to be a founding member of. He later says to reject Odinism, saying that the Thor's Hammer cannot unify the people of Europe, but that the Christian cross will.[132]
Deputy police chief Roger Andresen initially told reporters that information on Breivik's websites was "so to speak, Christian fundamentalist"[52][133][134][135] Subsequently, others have disputed Andresen's characterisation of Breivik as a Christian fundamentalist.[130][136][137] Rev. Olav Fykse Tveit, head of the World Council of Churches and himself Norwegian, accused Breivik of blasphemy for citing Christianity as a justification in his murderous attack.[110][124][138]
UPDATE: It seems the name “Peter” is actually receiving more response from him, so we're dispensing with the name “Buddy” :-)
I’ve been delinquent in adding photos of my new little rescue. Peter is 6 y.o. His guardian mother had passed away in June, 2013 and my Vet was fostering him when I coincidentally came to their office on August 1st. I had persuaded a neighbour to bring her sweet little dog to my Vet’s office for a badly needed hair trim, so I had brought them that day to provide some emotional support :-)
Having only lost little Jennie that Valentine’s Day just shy of her 18th birthday, I was still in emotional upheaval myself. I loved Jennie deeply. She survived comfortably for 2 years with chronic kidney disease after little Michael passed away in January of 2011, but took a sad turn for the worse in her last two months. I was hurting desperately, but I was also feeling the obligation to help others out as well. I guess you could say it was fate Peter and I should find each other, having both just lost a deeply meaningful part of our lives.
The unmaking of a photographer mystic Firoze unwinds pictures using poetry hates prose ...died of ennui overdose ...a path god carved he chose a rose by another name is just a rose ...father son holy ghost ...
Holga 120N/Ilford HP5 || I often quote song lyrics or lines of verse to accompany the photos I upload to Flickr. I've now decided to let my words interact with the images I shoot.
THE RETURN
In the aftermath of winter's unmaking
They come again, the feathered phalanx,
To repair a broken sky.
With bodies like needles they pierce the air
Threading lines invisible, so like the hidden seams
Upon your face, my face, the face we make like love.
What cracks the sky and splits the stars
And rips and tears the landscapes of the heart
They mend, their innocence as cruel and blind as Eden.
MMA || 28 March 2011