"Life without meaning is the torture of restlesness and vague desire."

benkilpatrick @ 2008-07-14T19:26:00

2008-07-15T00:28:48Z

I'm thinking about adding a math minor. For a long time, I've believed that I can do anything that I decide to do.
Well, shouldn't this be subjected to testing?
YES. Hence the math minor.

I've BSed for long enough. It's easy to hold on to remembrances of past accomplishments while the present fades. It's not so easy, however, to watch the present fade away. And so this is, if anything, the easier path.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-07-07T01:02:00

2008-07-07T06:03:43Z

"But tho' obscur'd, this is the form of the Angelic land."

everything i see is sent to me for a purpose

2008-05-29T06:21:20Z

everything i see is sent to me for a purpose, and
everything i hear lands somehow jarring on innocent ears
and everything i see serves to justify, somewhere, somehow
a narrow prejudice, and a sneaking glance
everything i hold is sent to me for a purpose - holding
back, holding it together (though only barely)
holding true to form, time after time

benkilpatrick @ 2008-05-10T18:26:00

2008-05-10T23:31:47Z

If I have ever sinned, it is that I cast down my shield and ran, that I withdrew before the contest had even begun so that some glimmer of cheap hopes and easy rewards would not be denied me.
If I have ever sinned, it is that I have forgotten who I am, and that I have been through unimaginably worse things than anything I can imagine happening now, and survived.
If I have ever sinned, it is that I did not realize the futility of my efforts and the utter and inherent worthlessness of the ends toward which they were directed.
If I have ever sinned, it is that I placed my own cheap comfort ahead of holding aloft the banner of the inherent dignity and divinity of Man.
"The word of Sin is Restriction."

Sometimes, the only answer is to

2008-05-05T06:05:09Z

Attack.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-04-02T12:27:00

2008-04-02T17:27:57Z

"The mendicant laughed and said: 'In the triple world, there is no permanent residence; there is no fixed place in the world of transmigration. Sometimes my home is in heaven; sometimes, in hell. Sometimes I may be your wife or your son; at other times, your father or your mother. Sometimes the Tempter King is my teacher and heretics, my friends. Ghosts, birds, and animals may be our parents, children, or wives. From the beginning to the present, there has been no such thing as first and second. How can there be a fixed state of existence from the present back to the very beginning! Turning like a circle or a wheel, beings transmigrate by changing their forms and states of being. Your hair may be completely gray, but it does not necessarily mean that you are my elder brother. My side locks may resemble a dark cloud, but this does not necessarily indicate that I am the younger brother. From the beginningless beginning, you and I have been transmigrating continuously without stopping in any fixed life. Therefore, essentially speaking, I have no permanently fixed birthplace or parents. However, in this present temporal existence, the visionlike being you see before you is residing at a bay in Japan, where a huge camphor tree spreads its shadow. Having yet to attain what I am searching for, I have already reached the age of twenty-four.'"
-Kukai, Indication of the Goals of the Three Teachings

benkilpatrick @ 2008-03-26T17:55:00

2008-03-26T22:58:09Z

With the aid of the Rosetta Stone program, I've begun learning four languages (Arabic, Latin, French, and German) and will soon add Greek. Hell, I might even add two more (maybe Spanish and Farsi) just for kicks. :-p
Man, productivity is fun.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-03-26T10:44:00

2008-03-26T15:47:16Z

"Gold and laughter, however, he takes from the heart of the earth: for, that you may know it - the heart of the earth is of gold.'
...
And once again Zarathustra shooke his head and wondered. 'What am I to think of it?' he said again.
'Why, then, did the phantom cry: "It is time! It is high time!"?
For what, then, is it - high time?'
Thus spoke Zarathustra."

I should like to delay here awhile, but it is high time (for what? though it doesn't really matter) and not time to delay.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-03-06T12:45:00

2008-03-06T18:45:47Z

This is a disaster.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-01-29T02:39:00

2008-01-29T08:42:48Z

Flying at 5000 feet above the earth,
the red baron pulls another one off
flying at the top of the world
flying at the top of the world
flying at the top of the world
- the north pole, lonely and cold

crazy post

2008-01-27T05:25:01Z

California is America, and one of my long-term goals is to capture in thought and words, to pin down in words exactly what it is; what this huge California suburban nightmare monster is, this slightly-buzzed on good pot and completely gymed-out hedonistic thing that rolls over the landscape and devours everything to leave behind only numb, hedonistic stupidity, mass-obedience to the gods of mass produced luxury on the cheap for the masses.

Robinson Jeffers was slightly incorrect. It is true that we used to be individuals.
We used to be individuals, and then Los Angeles happened to us.

How it happened, and what it means for it to have happened is the object of thought to be captured.

After that, I will come to terms with Mississippi. An ever more difficult task.

(x-posted) How many GOP presidential candidates does it take to beat Ron Paul?

2008-01-26T23:20:33Z

In Louisiana...all of them.

Louisiana has a two-part caucus to select GOP national convention delegates; (the primary is basically a beauty pageant). See explanations of how it all works here and here. Various pro-Paul groups around the state were able to amass enough qualified individuals to submit a full slate of delegates - more than any other candidate; one third of all delegates submitted were Paul delegates. In anticipation, supporters of Giuliani, Huckabee, McCain and Romney banded together to submit a slate of uncommitted delegates labeled "Pro-Life/Pro-Family;" this hybrid slate beat the Ron Paul slate in all 7 districts. It is currently unknown as to how many supporters of each candidate were on the hybrid slate.

Here's the Pro-Life/Pro-Family ballot:

Unofficial results are in, and the final results (when ready) will be here.

McCain is in first so far, followed by Ron Paul then Mitt Romney. Five-hundred provisional ballots remain to be counted. However, the Paul campaign is contesting the results and requesting that the LA GOP count all of the ballots and even check the credentials of some of the delegates.

::Update:: The original deadline for submitting delegates was January 10th. After the huge slate of Ron Paul delegates was submitted, the LA GOP extended the deadline to January 12th to allow other candidates to submit more delegates.

Additionally, quite a few Democrats and Independents switched parties in order to participate in the GOP caucus. The deadline to register as a Republican to be eligible to participate was November 30th. However, the LA GOP used a voter list from November 1st at the caucus locations to check eligibility. Voters who had registered after November 1st (but before the deadline) were forced to use provisional ballots, 500 of which have not yet been counted - though the results of the race are already being trumpeted.

In a few cases, even state-certified, pre-approved Ron Paul delegates were forced to use provisional ballots.

Spread this far and wide - tell your friends what happened in Louisiana, and don't let them get away with politics as usual.

http://www.thinkmoderate.com/2008/01/how-many-gop-presidential-candidates.html

benkilpatrick @ 2008-01-20T02:09:00

2008-01-20T08:10:00Z

Every time I think about World War II, my hand involuntarily recoils to my mouth to cover a gasp of horror. It is the one thing that I cannot imagine, those few years when the world went insane and ate its own children.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-01-16T01:09:00

2008-01-16T07:22:33Z

I'd like to elaborate more on this later.
But at 1 am, it occurs to me to say this much, at least: The democratic party is not, in any meaningful sense of the word, an alternative to the Republican party. The policies of Hillary Clinton differ only from those of McCain or "Ghouliani" in that the Republican programs would have a corporatist tinge and a faux-free market exterior, and the Democratic programs would be biased toward slightly different corporations, and have a faux populist exterior.
To a certain extent, if you support a candidate, you bear some measure of responsibility for that candidate's actions. Hillary Clinton has proven at every turn that she has no more regard for human life than the waterboarders and monsters who crow with glee over death on the other side of the aisle. No more. She has voted consistently to support the war in Iraq, and would consider war against Iran. If you elect her because she's a woman, or because her health-care plan sounds nice, consider that you're also, implicitly at least, supporting the possible deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people in yet another endless war.
The only option for any decent human being is complete, absolute opposition to the disgusting, brutal farce of American policy and politics.

Just think about that awhile while you're going to sleep tonight.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-01-14T13:52:00

2008-01-14T19:56:28Z

In a place we'd rather not be,
we hung our harps and wailed for lack of song
It almost seems that we're always
in places we'd rather not be.

benkilpatrick @ 2008-01-09T19:31:00

2008-01-10T01:38:06Z

"Engaging in business, art, intellectual pursuits, and so forth consequently brings about too many contacts and multifarious problems of a completely absorbing nature. This is called du-dzi. It will always keep you busy for little purpose. However much effort you make, it will prove essenceless. Even if you subdue enemies, there will be no end to them. Even if you take care of relatives, there will be no end to them.
Abandoning these never-ending activities and causes of distraction like a droplet of spit, leave your fatherland behind and welcome a foreign country. Find a place at the base of a rock to live. Make friends with wild animals. Bring relaxation to your body and mind. Let [your desire] for food, clothes, and fame suffer. Spend your life only in places of solitude, where there are no people."
The Kun-zang La-may Zhal-lung

Britney Spears

2008-01-07T09:04:14Z

It's really amazing to be able to watch the Culture Machine throw a cog, catch someone by the arm, and pull that person bodily into the gears.
Those more cynical than myself may question whether it threw a cog or whether it's working just like it's supposed to.

by the rivers of babylon at 4 am

2008-01-06T10:10:14Z

Drifting in this ever-permanent present
moving shapes draw before my eyes,
shifting, deceiving, drawing me here and
there with a thousand alluring lies
Looking into eyes of fire, enough, really
to induce an odd terror; stumbling
drunken through an inane desert, marched
across by a mumbling army of idiots,
for all of me, i cannot imagine what i did
to deserve this harsh exile.

Up too long chasing shadows, in a place
where I'd rather not be.

One Dead In Attic

2008-01-05T04:28:32Z

I just found this again, so I thought I'd post it.

Eliot Kamenitz/Times-Picayune
A home on St. Roch is marked with paint from emergency workers: 1 dead in attic

Eliot Kamenitz/Times-Picayune
A Mardi Gras Indian headdress belonging to Wildman Loco is hung on the door of one of the Hurricane Katrina ravaged homes in the 2600 block of N. Rocheblave.

Like ghosts populating an abandoned city, haunting messages and mystical artifacts adorn the homes of neighborhoods struggling to come back from the dead

Tuesday, November 15, 2005
By Chris Rose
Times-Picayune

I live on The Island, where much has the appearance of Life Goes On. Gas stations, bars, pizza joints, joggers, strollers, dogs, churches, shoppers, neighbors, even garage sales.

Sometimes trash and mail service, sometimes not.

It sets to mind a modicum of complacency that maybe everything is all right.

But I have this terrible habit of getting into my car every two or three days and driving into the Valley Down Below, that vast wasteland below sea level that was my city, and it's mind-blowing A) how vast it is and B) how wasted it is.

My wife questions the wisdom of my frequent forays into the massive expanse of blown-apart lives and property that local street maps used to call Gentilly, Lakeview, the East and the Lower 9th. She fears that it contributes to my unhappiness and general instability and I suspect she is right.

Perhaps I should just stay on the stretch of safe, dry land Uptown where we live and try to move on, focus on pleasant things, quit making myself miserable, quit reliving all those terrible things we saw on TV that first week.

That's advice I wish I could follow, but I can't. I am compelled for reasons that are not entirely clear to me. And so I drive.

I drive around and try to figure out those Byzantine markings and symbols that the cops and the National Guard spray-painted on all the houses around here, cryptic communications that tell the story of who or what was or wasn't inside the house when the floodwater rose to the ceiling.
In some cases, there's no interpretation needed. There's one I pass on St. Roch Avenue in the 8th Ward at least once a week. It says: "1 dead in attic."

That certainly sums up the situation. No mystery there.

It's spray-painted there on the front of the house and it probably will remain spray-painted there for weeks, months, maybe years, a perpetual reminder of the untimely passing of a citizen, a resident, a New Orleanian.

One of us.

You'd think some numerical coding could have conveyed this information on this house, so that I -- we all -- wouldn't have to drive by places like this every day and be reminded: "1 dead in attic."

I have seen plenty of houses in worse shape than the one where 1 Dead in Attic used to live, houses in Gentilly and the Lower 9th that yield the most chilling visual displays in town: low-rider shotgun rooftops with holes that were hacked away from the inside with an ax, leaving small, splintered openings through which people sought escape.

Imagine if your life came to that point, and remained there, on display, all over town for us to see, day after day.

Amazingly, those rooftops are the stories with happy endings. I mean, they got out, right?

But where are they now? Do you think they have trouble sleeping at night?

The occasional rooftops still have painted messages: "HELP US." I guess they had paint cans in their attic. And an ax, like Margaret Orr and Aaron Broussard always told us we should have if we weren't going to evacuate.

Some people thought Orr and Broussard were crazy. Alarmists. Extremists. Well, maybe they are crazy. But they were right.

Perhaps 1 Dead in Attic should have heeded this advice. But judging from the ages on the state's official victims list, he or she was probably up in years. And stubborn. And unafraid. And now a statistic.

I wonder who eventually came and took 1 Dead in Attic away. Who knows? Hell, with the way things run around here -- I wonder if anyone has come to take 1 Dead in Attic away.

And who claimed him or her? Who grieved over 1 Dead in Attic and who buried 1 Dead in Attic?

Was there anyone with him or her at the end and what was the last thing they said to each other? How did 1 Dead in Attic spend the last weekend in August of the year 2005?

What were their plans? Maybe dinner at Mandich on St. Claude? Maybe a Labor Day family reunion in City Park -- one of those raucous picnics where everybody wears matching T-shirts to mark the occasion and they rent a DJ and a SpaceWalk and a couple of guys actually get there the night before to secure a good, shady spot?

I wonder if I ever met 1 Dead in Attic. Maybe in the course of my job or maybe at a Saints game or maybe we once stood next to each other at a Mardi Gras parade or maybe we once flipped each other off in a traffic jam.

1 Dead in Attic could have been my mail carrier, a waitress at my favorite restaurant or the guy who burglarized my house a couple years ago. Who knows?

My wife, she's right. I've got to quit just randomly driving around. This can't be helping anything.

But I can't stop. I return to the Valley Down Below over and over, looking for signs of progress in all that muck, some sign that things are getting better, that things are improving, that we don't all have to live in a state of abeyance forever but -- you know what?

I just don't see them there.

I mean, in the 8th Ward, tucked down there behind St. Roch Cemetery, life looks pretty much like it did when the floodwater first receded 10 weeks ago, with lots of cars pointing this way and that, kids' yard toys caked in mire, portraits of despair, desolation and loss. And hatchet holes in rooftops.

But there's something I've discovered about the 8th Ward in this strange exercise of mine: Apparently, a lot of Mardi Gras Indians are from there. Or were from there; I'm not sure what the proper terminology is.

On several desolate streets that I drive down, I see where some folks have returned to a few of the homes and they haven't bothered to put their furniture and appliances out on the curb -- what's the point, really? -- but they have retrieved their tattered and muddy Indian suits and sequins and feathers and they have nailed them to the fronts of their houses.

The colors of these displays is startling because everything else in the 8th is gray. The streets, the walls, the cars, even the trees. Just gray.

So the oranges and blues and greens of the Indian costumes are something beautiful to behold, like the first flowers to bloom after the fallout. I don't know what the significance of these displays is, but they hold a mystical fascination for me.

They haunt me, almost as much as the spray paint on the front of a house that says 1 Dead in Attic. They look like ghosts hanging there. They are reminders of something. Something very New Orleans.

Do these memorials mean these guys -- the Indians -- are coming back? I mean, they have to, don't they? Where else could they do what they do?

And -- maybe this is a strange time to ask -- but who are these guys, anyway? Why do they do what they do with all those feathers and beads that take so much time and money to make? What's with all the Big Chief and Spy Boy role-playing?

As many times as I have reveled in their rhythmic, poetic and sometimes borderline absurd revelry in the streets of our city, I now realize that if you asked me to explain the origins and meaning of the Mardi Gras Indians -- I couldn't do it.

I have no clue. And that makes me wish I'd been paying more attention for the past 20 years. I could have learned something.

I could have learned something about a people whose history is now but a sepia mist over back-of-town streets and neighborhoods that nobody's ever heard of and where nobody lives and nothing ever happens anymore; a freeze frame still life in the air, a story of what we once were.

. . . . . . .

Columnist Chris Rose can be reached at (504) 352-2535 or (504) 826-3309; or at chris.rose@timespicayune.com.

hehe

2007-12-20T07:13:15Z

Someone posted this in reply to me on a message board. I'm not sure if he's serious.

"This is the stupidest argement that I have ever heard. Jewdism goes back to the day the world was created 5768 years ago. Palestinans are Arabs Syrian, Egyption and Jordainian. The name Palesinte came from the Romans about 1300 years ago. So you really should get your facts straight."

benkilpatrick @ 2007-12-12T14:22:00

2007-12-12T20:23:42Z

Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night, but the most fortunate are born to both.

benkilpatrick @ 2007-12-10T16:22:00

2007-12-10T22:26:44Z

"Indeed, I tell you the truth, any object you have on your mind, however good, will be a barrier between you and the inmost truth."
-Meister Eckhart, Fragments

benkilpatrick @ 2007-11-17T22:11:00

2007-11-18T04:27:05Z

So, this journal has become ... much less meaningful than it used to be. I'm probably going to go go through the old entries soon, delete the stupid ones, and loosen up my privacy restrictions.
I might quit this job. I don't know. Every time that I realize that I'll have to spend about 650 a month on rent, close to half of my post-tax income, the prospect of moving out dims in my eyes. I don't know that there's very much reason to do it, save a shortened commute. And work doesn't go well with school for me - I'm not looking forward to the prospect of work and school coming together to eat my entire life.
I don't know that I'd just mind going to New Brunswick, and ditching all of this in favor of doing as I pleased, were it not for the busy-ness people (intentional) who would be suspicious at the fact that I'd managed to avoid wage-slavery for some time period.
But that's all speculation, and as William Blake said,
"Do what you will, this life's a fiction
and is made up of contradiction."

benkilpatrick @ 2007-11-13T14:05:00

2007-11-13T20:07:56Z

"In what do you believe?— In this: that the weights of all things must be determined anew.

What does your conscience say?— 'You shall become the person you are.'

Where are your greatest dangers?— In pity.

What do you love in others?— My hopes.

Whom do you call bad?— Those who always want to put to shame.

What do you consider most humane?— To spare someone shame.

What is the seal of liberation?— No longer being ashamed in front of oneself."
--F Nietzsche, DFW, Bk. 111, Aphs. 269-275

What do you love in others?— My hopes.

benkilpatrick @ 2007-11-12T13:35:00

2007-11-12T19:36:18Z

And that reflects what's been turning over in my mind the past few days - all the children growing up "in the shadow of the valley of death." Because that's what those bastards have made: a world where most people either worship death or cram themselves with sensoria so that they can forget it for a little while, and life too.

I said that in February, and felt I ought to say it again.