sniffed

I mperthnthn thnthnthn, bootsnout sniffed rudely, as he retreated as she threatened as he had come. — JJ

[sniffed-blog]

art stream

lichtensteiger.net · art stream

[sniffed-blog]

Tumblr Composers Project

Check it out at tmblrcomposers.tumblr.com

A wonderful project by Andrew (exceededharmony.tumblr.com) and Sam (ifnyousayso.tumblr.com)

[sniffed-blog]

John Cage · Untitled Anarchist Poem

We don't need government  We need utilities. Air, water, energy  Travel and communication means  Food and shelter. We have no need for imaginary mountain ranges  Between separate nations. We can make tunnels through the real ones. Nor do we have any need for the continuing division of people  Into those who have what they need  And those who don't. Both Fuller and Marshal McLuhan  Knew, furthermore  That work is now obsolete.  We have invented machines to do it for us. Now that we have no need to do anything  What shall we do? Looking at Fuller's geodesic world map  We see that the Earth is a single island, Oahu.  We must give all the people all they need to live  In any way they wish. Our present laws protect the rich from the poor. If there are to be laws, we need ones that  Begin with the acceptance of poverty as a way of life. We must make the world safe for poverty Without dependence on government.

John Cage, Untitled Anarchist Poem http://bit.ly/bVExTN

[sniffed-blog]

Michel Foucault analysed the effect of the panopticon

"They are like so many cages, so many small theatres, in which each actor is alone, perfectly individualised and constantly visible. The panoptic mechanism arranges spatial unities that make it possible to see constantly and to recognise immediately. In short, it reverses the principle of the dungeon; or rather of its three functions – to enclose, to deprive of light and to hide – it preserves only the first and eliminates the other two. Full lighting and the eye of a supervisor captures better than darkness, which ultimately protected. Visibility is a trap."

Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, trans. Alan Sheridan, 1975

[sniffed-blog]

Introibo ad altare Dei

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: 

Introibo ad altare Dei.

JJ, Ulysses