Jul. 16th, 2011 04:37 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (ninakinert)
innehas av hennes förtrollning...

innehas av hennes förtrollning
en mantel av vävda el
sjungande ljus, norrsken
förtrollande mörker

held by her enchantment
a robe of woven electricity
singing light, northern lights
entrancing darkness
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

And a farewell to Francais, Franglais, Denglish - call it what you will...

i have been stumbling onto some interesting material recently, just following my interest in language and music.

Anyone that knows me well will be aware of my fascination with language (i have a profound love/hate relationship with Semiology*!) and also with the work of Wittgenstein (blows kiss to Melissa) who posited that there could be no such thing as a private language.

Private language? Think Tina Turner singing; "I'm your Private -"

wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

Read more... )

wytchcroft: heavent sent (re-1 - real)

Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (sci-fi)
[Error: unknown template qotd] Oh some donkey cockney cobblers most like that you won't adam and eve.
Bobbins even.
Speaks the Queen's?
I should cocoa.
Give over you smarmy iron!
You what? Oi! don't come the cod with me!
Sounds like a right 'nana. 
Not half!
segues into 1960s polare - bona! 
Well natural Jules, it's traditional innit!
Say no more Sandy!
Eek, let your peepers take a ganda at this little lot!
Lada. Oooh bona! - rpt til fade.

and possibly: Паццталом! :))))
wytchcroft: heavent sent (re-1 - real)

the sound of prayers
oto no inori

as they fall upon deaf ears
rakka kami kika nai
落下 神 聞かない

drowned out by bombs.
bakudan no oto no ookisa.

sound of prayer fall delicious taste sunflower dead bomb of sound of size
praying falling God of sound loudness of the bomb which is not heard

wytchcroft: heavent sent (raven)

no human input:
Rainwater' sの決断-名声のホテルの葉-通された線形
- gamoshiのゲストの葉。

rainwater' s no ketsudan - meisei no hoteru no ha - tousa reta senkei nokuneriga mise no kyuuden nochoudo o - shokurin toarubekidearu - gamoshi no gesuto no ha .
記憶の宮殿 )


Nov. 29th, 2008 01:28 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (re-1)


The thing alive is light - it is light that lives - through history - through erasure - between the lines - beyond the gunfire - between the fingers - what slips free of our hands - avoids language - avoids touch - avoids containment - the identity prison - there is light slipping nimbly between the bars and free.

生きた事は生命-歴史によって-削除による… -ライン間で-どんなスリップが私達の手の放すか砲撃を越える…ことライトそれ軽いである-指か間で- -言語を-接触を避ける-避ける原子格納容器-アイデンティティの刑務所-をそこにある棒の間ですばやく入れ、自由なライトが避けるか。

To live a life - by history - by removing ... - in line - that any slip or let go of our hands ... to cross the bombardment of lights - or between your fingers - - language - Contact shun - Avoid nuclear containment - identity of the prison - and there quickly and put a stick between freedom or avoid the light

歴史-作品-を削除することにより.. .な生活を送るには行--は、任意のスリップやG o ogleの手を離してください.. .ライトの衝撃を乗り越えるため-またはあなたの指- -言語-連絡先との間を避ける-を避ける核封じ込め-刑務所の同一性-して、そちらに迅速かつ自由や光を避けるの間に固執する

History - the work - by deleting. To lead life, line--Please release the hand of optional slip and Google.
In order to get over the impact of the light/write, - or your finger - - language - you avoid with ahead communicating, - the nucleus which is avoided you enclose and - identity of the jail - do, to there you avoid quick and freedom and light persist between.

歴史-作品-を削除することにより.. .な生活を送るには行--は、任意のスリップやの手を離してください.. .ライトの衝撃を乗り越えるため-またはあなたの指- -言語-連絡先との間を避ける-を避ける核封じ込め-刑務所の同一性-して、そちらに迅速かつ自由や光を避けるの間に固執する 
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

Questions - dolphins. Some theorists have stated that Whales communication by frequency is actually visual - the sound is a transmission of image, and indeed mathematically it has been possible to create visual analogues, the usual (fractal type stuff) with these. However - the purpose of these transmissions - which would give us the structure has (as far i know) not been decoded. Elsewhere the idea of correlation between sound and action has proved difficult to determine - ahh remember Phase IV? "We can talk to the Ants!" ha, ha:)

My info is memory driven - please correct me if things have moved forward.
Again - mathematically, structure is in the eye of the beholder IF certain reasoning is allowed. I mean - the underlying unification of structure in nature can be revealed quite quickly since the models are fairly simple, and if language is not an invention then structure probably follows the easy routes of nature. However - rules governing structure are now seen to break down at the quantum level where condition is uncertain. So - what of language? What of our ability to understand genuine structure - are we not still simply the victim of our own perceptions, can we ever understand the dancing of bees??

Or even if - does language actually serve as a model for thought? By attempting to understand the language of animals - are we confusing language with thought? Perhaps the two are indeed one and the same (As you have argued here and elsewhere) and in a binary sense this has to be the case - but can we not evolve beyond this? Is our binary disposed nature really shared by non-human sentience??? If not - then structure is bound to be different.

Then again - what if life itself (all existence) is simply the language of the universe? The structure of existence follows a very close model to language. I am tempted to believe this.

If this is true then analysing the parts of the whole may be possible - but and there may be correlation - but it may take intelligence beyond ours to see the greater design of which our language, the language of other elements, etc. are merely
That's enough random from me for now. :) 

Oh - except to note that canines seem to fail in the area of transmission, felines seem more highly developed. Or, for example;
I may be able to get my dog to recognise "stick" but only my cat seems able to tell me to fuck off - or, without prompting, come up to me and yell "Tuna! I want Tuna!"

this was part of a thread dialogue between nintfjr, chalissa and myself. my reason for including it here is to show some of the thinking behind my 'writing', ie i scribble in order to better articulate/express the ideas i struggle to put across otherwise - such as above! my other obsessions are TIME, LIGHT, REALITY yadda yadda. i may add more example links later. All of which makes me sound very confident - believe me, t'aint so.
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
(This is my attempt at an adaptation from the original Russian by stoshagownozad...)

Mariana stood with a small lamp in the womb of the 'Sea Bird'. No 'bird' now, the ship crept through the pitch darkness as an animal might burrow, like a mole or an insect, hard and chitinous. 
below deck... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)



<input ... > View other answers

They were ghosts at the waters edge, the two children, barely disturbing the surface tension of the air.
The sun was rising and the lake was beginning to gleam red.
The mist, coming up to meet the morning, was clotted and thick - but it was burning away fast.
One child was looking at the other - and that child was looking into nothing.
below the surface... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

A dialogue in progress.

Добро пожаловать всем посетителям.
Я надеюсь, что вы сочтете этот разговор интересным.

Искусство не имеет границ!

The Hound of the Baskervilles -
a Russian adaptation as seen from the West.

Details of the case / Детали случая... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
and yet - and yet - the wilderness...
the big why - what - wherefore - of wilderness...

even in the bleak sepia of a diane arbus...
even in the arid rusty memories of a son of woody guthrie
with the son in his eyes and the dust under his nails...

even in the sun-baked exhortations and wallowing efforts of a cracked earth girl...

we evoke the wilderness when we are separated from it -
the dry sea of biblical mystery
the silence between realms -
the weary way of the footfalls of a refugee nation
and a smiling egyptian martian enigma
we - do - not - understand - it

yet we evoke evoke evoke

singing cryptic symbol; the bush, the blighted tree,
twisted into a rosy cross
the ragged flapping of a clothes lines,
a cord, a piece of old string, the worn boots
that patti smith clings to as a souvenir of her valedictory trampin'...

we sing oblique hymns to the place where language falls away from us .


 this was a spontaneous reply to somebody - but a few people have said they liked it (!)
so i've copied it across to here.


wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

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