Podcasts about John Wilkins

En nuestro anterior podcast grabado precisamente el 21 de abril, fecha en la que oficialmente murió el papa Francisco les empezamos a hablar de los constructores de números. No encontramos casual que el papa falleciese exactamente ese dia, ya que no es un día cualquiera. Es el Natalis Romae, el aniversario fundacional de Roma, ciudad que desde hace más de dos mil años ha sido el epicentro del poder político, religioso y simbólico de Occidente. Y precisamente hoy, en esta fecha cargada de ritual y resonancia, muere el Papa Francisco. En plena resurrección de Jesucristo, uno muere y el otro renace. ¿Casualidad? En este podcast, ya sabéis que no creemos en ellas. Hoy, en Buscadores de la Verdad, vamos a descifrar lo que muchos pasarán por alto: la profunda e inquietante importancia del número 8 en la vida, el legado y la muerte del Papa. Francisco fue el primer Papa jesuita, el primero procedente de América, el Papa de la Agenda 2030, de las vacunas, de la simplificación de los rituales. Un Papa atípico. Y, como veremos, un Papa marcado por el 8 desde el principio hasta el final. Nació un 17 de diciembre de 1936. Fallece un 21 de abril de 2025. 88 años y 125 días después. Un doble 8 y un 1+2+5 = 8. El símbolo del infinito. El equilibrio kármico. El reinicio del ciclo. Pero no acaba ahí: convertido en el octavo Papa enterrado en Santa María la Mayor, bajo un escudo papal alterado misteriosamente para exhibir una estrella de ocho puntas, su historia está plagada de estos guiños numéricos que parecen trazados por una mano invisible. En este episodio vamos a hablar de arquitectura oculta, de rituales milenarios, de cómo la elite que gobierna entre bambalinas utiliza los números y los símbolos como herramientas para construir la realidad. Y en este caso, el número 8 aparece como la clave de todo. Porque cuando entiendes el lenguaje oculto de los que mandan, sabes que todo está diseñado. Desde las fechas, hasta los funerales. Desde los escudos hasta los silencios del Vaticano. El 21 de abril, Roma celebra su nacimiento... y el Vaticano entierra a su Papa más simbólico. La era de Francisco se cierra en un ciclo perfecto, sellado con un 8. ¿Qué se abre ahora? ¿Qué nuevo paradigma se está gestando en la sombra? Prácticamente desde el principio de este podcast, en el UTP8 Universo fractal ya tratamos la importancia de los números y como estos crean la realidad que vivimos. Son, como dijimos en el anterior podcast, los ladrillos del universo. Leere unos pasajes de la tesina “Los conjuntos numéricos a través de la historia” de Veronica Valdez: “En el pasado la matemática fue considerada una ciencia relacionada directamente a las cantidades, en relación con las magnitudes (desde la geometria); a los números (desde la aritmética) o a la generalización de los dos (desde el álgebra). Las primeras nociones de número y la acción de contar datan de la prehistoria. La causa que originó el desarrollo de este conocimiento en el hombre primitivo fue su necesidad de proteger sus bienes, la adaptación a los ciclos que la madre naturaleza le imponía le aseguraban su alimentación. El hombre prehistórico plasmó los primeros indicios matemáticos en sus vasijas (dibujos geométricos) y sus primeros sistemas de cálculos se basaron en el uso de los dedos de las manos o la utilización del cuerpo, este método resulta evidente al ver que muchos de los sistemas de numeración son de base 5 o 10.” Fueron los egipcios en el tercer milenio antes de cristo los que desarrollan unas matemáticas más avanzadas llegando a plantear problemas complejos como el calculo de superficies, lo cual era vital para el reparto de la tierra fértil fecundada por las crecidas del Nilo. La tierra se movia y cambiaba ligeramente de aspecto y era imprescindible para que reinase el orden que dicho reparto fuera lo mas ajustado a derecho posible. Luego los romanos mejoraron hasta cierto aspecto el uso de jeroglíficos de los egipcios por simples letras. En ese momento se seguía utilizando todavía el sistema babilónico que consistía en escribir en tablillas de arcilla utilizando un palito en forma de cuña. Una cuña apuntaba hacia abajo y la otro hacia la izquierda. El problema consistia en que era un sistema con solo 60 números, lo cual limitaba mucho el calculo mental. Los babilonios utilizaban, eso si, la forma en que cada dígito tenia un valor disitinto dependiendo de la posición que ocupase. El primer sistema matematico que utilizo al mismo tiempo el principio posicional y el cero fue el sistema de los mayas. “En este sistema 1 kin (sol) representa un día, 20 kines forman un huinal. Como 20 huinales representan 400 días, lo cual es mucho mayor que la duración exacta del año (este sistema fue utilizado para cálculos astronómicos), los mayas llamaron tun a 18 huinales, o 360 días. Excepto por este nivel, el resto del sistema es vigesimal.” “No se tiene conocimiento con exactitud cómo surgió, pero se sabe que fue un sistema de numeración mejorado por los hindúes y los árabes lo llevaron a Europa. De esta forma a las cifras se las llamó árabes debido a su origen, de la misma manera que escribirlas de derecha a izquierda (unidad, decena, centena, etc.) Hacia el año 976 Gerberto Aurillac (futuro Papa) conoce las primeras cifras en España, que ya estaba influenciada por la cultura musulmana, pero su influencia fue limitada. En el siglo XII se conoce las primeras traducciones al latin de las obras de un matemático árabe al- Jwarizmi, de quien se conocen los términos algoritmo y guarismo; de esta forma las cifras árabes comienzan a introducirse en el círculo culto europeo. En el año 1202, Fibonacci publica el "Libro del ábaco" que acopía y amplia las cifras y los procedimientos de cálculo utilizados por los árabes. Durante este siglo se consolidó la aritmética decimal sobre todo en los concerniente a las actividades comerciales. Sin embargo el método árabe y sus ventajas para calcular debieron sortear varios inconvenientes por parte de los calculistas de la época que ante la amenaza de un nuevo método mucho más sencillo, que atentaba supuestamente a su fuente de trabajo, recurrieron a estrategias bajas como hacer correr el rumor que el sistema de cálculo árabe tan sencillo, debía tener algo de magia o un cierto poder demoníaco. Esta acusación fue astutamente utilizada en la época de la Inquisición. Recién a fines del siglo XVI con Montaigne comenzó a abrirse paso nuevamente el sistema de numeración árabe y finalmente se generalizó con la Revolución Francesa. A partir de dicho momento histórico se comenzó a utilizar al 10 como base del sistema métrico decimal.” Con todo este resumen vengo a comentar que el enorme poder de los números estaba en poquísimas manos hasta bien entrado siglo 16 y que para ese entonces muchos de los secretos y la simbología que escondían estos paso a ser solo aprendido en las sectas, en las logias y en las futuras universidades que estaban también creadas por los mismos. LA EDUCACION según Lord Bertrand Russell en su obra "La Perspectiva Científica", 1931, nos dice: "Los jesuitas proporcionan una clase de educación a los niños que han de ser hombres corrientes en el mundo, y otra distinta a áquellos que han de llegar a ser miembros de la Compañía de Jesús. De análoga manera, los gobernantes científicos proporcionarán un género de educación a los hombres y mujeres corrientes, y otro diferente a aquéllos que hayan de ser el poder científico. Los hombres y mujeres corrientes es de esperar que sean dóciles, diligentes, puntuales, de poco pensar y que se sientan satisfechos. Por otro lado, aquellos niños y niñas que estén destinados a ser miembros de la clase gobernante, recibirán una educación muy diferente. Serán seleccionados, algunos antes de nacer, otros durante los primeros tres años de vida, y unos pocos entre los tres y seis años. Toda la ciencia conocida se aplicará al desarrollo simultáneo de su inteligencia y de su voluntad. ….." Y es que para todos la ciencia ha sido creada supuestamente por científicos, ¿no? Uno de los parangones mundiales es la Royal Society fundada el 28 de noviembre de 1660 en Londres. Sus fundadores fueron un grupo de 12 científicos y pensadores, entre los que destacan Christopher Wren, Robert Boyle, John Wilkins y William Petty. Lo que no nos cuentan es que el milenarismo y la cábala estaba en los orígenes de la Royal Society. Pero como escribió Boyle, los científicos, "sacerdotes de la naturaleza", habrían de adquirir, durante el milenio, "un conocimiento mucho mayor del que Adán pudo tener del maravilloso universo de Dios". Esta afirmación supone que, en la expectativa de Boyle, la ciencia permitiría alcanzar un estadio más avanzado que el presupuesto por la condición adánica, y acceder, en cierto modo, a la condición divina. Con palabras de la serpiente a Eva, ya había asegurado Bacon en la Nueva Atlántida que algún día los hombres serían como dioses, y ésta habría de ser, decía Lewis Mumford, "la meta final no declarada de la ciencia moderna”. (Noble 1999, pág 88). Dentro de la UNED (la universidad a distancia en España) podemos leer un texto titulado “LA ROYAL SOCIETY Y LA MASONERÍA” que dice asi: “La Royal Society se origina cuando doce hombres cultivados adoptaron la costumbre, poco después de 1640, de reunirse esporádicamente en Londres para conversar y discutir en la residencia de uno de ellos o bien en una taberna próxima al Gresham College. Al poco tiempo, bajo patrocinio del monarca, decidieron crear una asociación para el estudio de los mecanismos de la naturaleza. Para asegurarse de que los dogmas no fueran un obstáculo, desterraron de sus asambleas toda discusión de tintes religiosos y políticos. Y eso a pesar de que los doce fundadores diferían tanto en cuestiones políticas y religiosas, como en experiencia científica y rango social. Entre los nombres de los primeros miembros de la Royal Society se encuentran científicos que dieron nombre a sus descubrimientos; así, la Ley de Hooke, la Ley de Boyle, la construcción de Huygens, las leyes de Newton, el movimiento browniano, y esto sin contar a científicos de menor talla como Christopher Wren, John Eveyn, John Wilkins, Elias Ashmole, John Flamsteed o Edmund Halley. Sin embargo, los hombres que fundaron esta Sociedad no sólo fueron los primeros científicos, sino, al mismo tiempo, los últimos "magos". De hecho, Ashmole pertenecía a una sociedad de rosacruces y practicaba la astrología, Newton estudió y escribió acerca de los conceptos alquímicos de los rosacruces, y Hooke llevó a cabo experimentos con arañas y cuernos de unicornio.” Mucho antes John Dee, el asesor de la reina Isabel I de Inglaterra aunque no participó directamente en la creación de la Royal Society, su legado como defensor de las matemáticas, la navegación y el conocimiento empírico influyó en el ambiente intelectual que dio lugar a esta institución. Su reputación como "mago" y las acusaciones de nigromancia reflejan la percepción de sus prácticas herméticas y adivinatorias, que, aunque controvertidas, eran parte de su búsqueda de conocimiento universal. Recordemos que hoy dia podemos ver en el museo de Londres su piedra de obsidiana negra donde el mismo reconocía que veía a seres de otro mundo con los que decia comunicarse. Dee creo el alfabeto enoquiano, también conocido como el "lenguaje angélico" o "alfabeto mágico" desarrollado por Dee y su colaborador Edward Kelley durante sus sesiones de videncia (scrying) en la década de 1580. Mientras Isabel I valoraba a Dee como consejero (eligió la fecha de su coronación en 1559 basándose en sus cálculos astrológicos), otros lo veían como un charlatán peligroso. Su casa fue saqueada tras su partida a Europa en 1583, y bajo Jacobo I, enemigo de la brujería, Dee perdió ese trato de favor. Su imagen como "mago" inspiró personajes como Próspero en La Tempestad de Shakespeare y perduró en la cultura popular, como en la ópera de Damon Albarn o la canción de Iron Maiden “El Alquimista”. Termino esta entradilla con otro texto de Lord Bertrand Russell extraído de su obra, "El Impacto de la Ciencia en la Sociedad", 1951: "Aunque esta ciencia será estudiada con diligencia, deberá reservarse estrictamente a la clase gobernante. Al populacho no habrá de permitírsele saber cómo fueron generadas sus convicciones. Una vez perfeccionada la técnica, cada gobierno que haya estado a cargo de la educación por una generación, podrá controlar a sus sujetos de forma segura, sin la necesidad de recurrir a ejércitos ni policías. Actualmente, la población del mundo crece a razón de unos 58.000 individuos por día. La guerra, hasta ahora, no ha tenido un gran efecto en este crecimiento, que continuó a lo largo de cada una de las dos guerras mundiales... La guerra hasta la fecha ha sido decepcionante al respecto... pero quizás la guerra bacteriológica resultare más efectiva. Si una peste negra se propagare una vez en cada generación, los sobrevivientes podrían procrear libremente sin llenar al mundo demasiado... La situación seguramente sería poco placentera, pero, ¿qué importa?" ………………………………………………………………………………………. Imagina por un momento que entras en una antigua ciudad del sur de Italia, hace más de dos mil quinientos años. Calles de piedra, templos consagrados a dioses griegos... y una puerta. Una puerta modesta, sin adornos ostentosos, pero con una inscripción grabada con precisión geométrica: "No entre aquí quien no sepa geometría”. Estás ante la escuela de los pitagóricos, una de las sociedades más enigmáticas de la historia antigua. Fundada por Pitágoras de Samos, no era solo una escuela de matemáticas, como a veces se enseña en las aulas. Era una hermandad. Una especie de secta del conocimiento, donde los números eran algo más que herramientas: eran divinidades, principios cósmicos, claves para entender el alma del universo. Los pitagóricos creían que todo en la naturaleza —el movimiento de los astros, los ciclos vitales, incluso la música— respondía a proporciones numéricas. El número uno simbolizaba la unidad, el origen. El dos, la dualidad, lo femenino. El tres, la perfección. El cuatro, la justicia. Y el diez... el número perfecto, resultado de sumar 1+2+3+4. Un número sagrado. Este triángulo tiene cuatro filas y, si las cuentas todas, suma diez puntos. Ese número —el 10— era considerado el número perfecto por los pitagóricos, porque resultaba de la suma de los cuatro primeros números naturales: 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10 Pero esto no era solo una curiosidad matemática. Cada número tenía un significado simbólico y cosmológico: 1 representaba la unidad, el origen, el punto de partida de toda existencia. 2 simbolizaba la dualidad: luz y oscuridad, masculino y femenino, arriba y abajo. 3 era la tríada perfecta, el equilibrio entre los opuestos (principio muy común también en filosofías orientales). 4 simbolizaba la estabilidad, los cuatro elementos (tierra, agua, aire y fuego), las cuatro estaciones, los puntos cardinales. Así, la Tetraktys se convertía en un resumen místico del universo: todo lo que existe puede explicarse a través de esta progresión sagrada. No era un simple dibujo. Los pitagóricos juraban sobre la Tetraktys, como otros juran sobre la Biblia o una constitución. Su fórmula era: "Juro por el que entregó a nuestra alma la Tetraktys, fuente que contiene en sí la raíz y fuente de la eterna naturaleza." ¿Lo notas? No están hablando solo de matemáticas. Están hablando de la naturaleza eterna, de algo fundamental que estructura el cosmos. Este juramento era una especie de sacramento, una alianza con la armonía universal. Utilizaban símbolos que aún hoy reconocemos. La estrella pentagonal, también conocida como pentagrama, era para ellos un emblema de perfección y salud. Cada ángulo de la estrella formaba la razón áurea, ese número casi mágico que sigue apareciendo en la naturaleza, en la arquitectura, en el arte… y, para algunos, incluso en el diseño de logotipos de poderosas organizaciones contemporáneas. Y aquí es donde la cosa se pone interesante. Los pitagóricos dividían a sus miembros en dos categorías: los akusmáticos, que solo escuchaban y obedecían sin cuestionar, y los matemáticos, que accedían a las enseñanzas ocultas. Este modelo jerárquico, basado en el secreto y la iniciación progresiva, suena familiar. Muy familiar. ¿A qué otras organizaciones te recuerda? Algunas sociedades secretas modernas —como ciertas logias masónicas— han heredado no solo la estructura iniciática, sino también muchos símbolos y conceptos pitagóricos. La estrella de cinco puntas, el ojo que todo lo ve, el uso de números y proporciones sagradas, la idea de que el verdadero conocimiento no debe estar al alcance de todos, sino reservado para una élite que lo custodia. La Tetraktys no desapareció con la caída de los pitagóricos. Su simbolismo se filtró a través de corrientes esotéricas posteriores. Por ejemplo: En la Cábala judía, el Árbol de la Vida también parte de una estructura numérica y jerárquica del universo. En la masonería, aunque no se usa directamente la Tetraktys, la idea del triángulo sagrado, la progresión simbólica del número y la veneración de la geometría sagrada están muy presentes. En el hermetismo y el neoplatonismo, se reutiliza el simbolismo pitagórico para hablar de los planos de existencia, del alma y del conocimiento secreto. Incluso en el mundo moderno, algunos investigadores creen que ciertos símbolos corporativos y arquitectónicos siguen patrones de proporción y estructura que tienen su origen, directa o indirectamente, en la Tetraktys. La Tetraktys no era un dibujo bonito. Era una clave esotérica. Un mandala numérico. Una representación del orden invisible que rige el universo. Para los pitagóricos, entenderla era un paso hacia la iluminación intelectual y espiritual. Y ahora, volvamos a los números. Porque hay una historia que suele pasar desapercibida en los libros de texto... Se cuenta que los pitagóricos sabían más de lo que enseñaban. Por ejemplo, que ocultaron deliberadamente conceptos como los números negativos. ¿Por qué? Porque esos números, que hoy usamos sin pensar, eran perturbadores. ¿Cómo podía existir algo menos que nada? ¿Cómo explicar al pueblo llano la idea de restar una cantidad mayor a una menor y obtener un resultado real, aunque invisible? La respuesta fue simple: lo escondieron. Evitaron esas operaciones, redefinieron los problemas, o simplemente los consideraron imposibles. Para ellos, un universo perfecto no podía contener números "erróneos", "oscuros" o "negativos". Así de poderosa era su creencia en la armonía matemática del mundo. Y ahora piensa en esto: ¿cuántas cosas damos hoy por verdaderas sin entenderlas? ¿Cuántas ideas nos han sido negadas por parecer “imposibles”? La sombra de los pitagóricos es alargada. Y si miras con atención, quizá todavía la veas en las instituciones que dirigen el conocimiento, en los rituales simbólicos que acompañan actos de poder, o incluso… en las matemáticas que se enseñan en nuestras escuelas. Porque como decía otro sabio antiguo: la ignorancia no es falta de información, sino la imposición del silencio. ………………………………………………………………………………………. Los terrenos donde se construyó Washington, D.C., eran parte de una zona conocida como "Rome" (Roma) antes de que se estableciera la capital de Estados Unidos. Este nombre se debe a que, en el siglo XVII, un terrateniente llamado Francis Pope, quien era propietario de una parcela en la zona, nombró su propiedad "Rome" en un guiño humorístico a la ciudad de Roma, Italia, y al río Tíber, comparándolo con el río Anacostia o el Potomac. Incluso se dice que Pope se autoproclamó "Papa de Roma" en tono jocoso. Cuando se decidió construir la nueva capital federal en 1790, los terrenos de "Rome" fueron parte de las tierras cedidas por Maryland para crear el Distrito de Columbia. Sin embargo, el nombre "Rome" cayó en desuso con el desarrollo de la ciudad planificada por Pierre Charles L'Enfant y la adopción del nombre "Washington" en honor a George Washington. El hombre que recibió el encargo de diseñar la nueva capital de Estados Unidos en 1791 fue Pierre Charles L’Enfant, un arquitecto y urbanista nacido en Francia que había luchado en la Guerra de Independencia estadounidense junto a George Washington. Era un apasionado de la arquitectura monumental y tenía una visión muy clara: la ciudad debía ser una representación del nuevo orden del mundo. Aunque no hay registros definitivos que lo identifiquen como masón —al contrario que muchos de sus contemporáneos como George Washington, Benjamin Franklin o Thomas Jefferson—, su diseño está repleto de símbolos que son clave en la tradición masónica y pitagórica. Esto ha llevado a muchos estudiosos a pensar que, si no era miembro formal de la masonería, al menos estaba fuertemente influenciado por ella. Cuando observamos desde el aire (o en un plano detallado) el trazado urbano de Washington D.C., comienzan a aparecer formas geométricas muy específicas que nos indican el uso de la geometría sagrada en el plano de la ciudad: La estrella de cinco puntas Una de las figuras más debatidas del diseño de Washington es la estrella pentagonal (el pentagrama), que muchos dicen puede verse trazando líneas entre la Casa Blanca, el Capitolio, y varios otros puntos clave como el Washington Monument y el Jefferson Memorial. El pentagrama es un símbolo ancestral que los pitagóricos veneraban como representación del equilibrio, la salud y la proporción áurea. Los masones lo heredaron y lo usan como símbolo del hombre perfecto, microcosmos del universo. La escuadra y el compás Estos dos instrumentos, esenciales en la arquitectura, son símbolos masónicos por excelencia. La escuadra representa la rectitud moral y el compás, los límites que uno debe imponer a sus pasiones. En el plano de Washington, las avenidas diagonales que cruzan la cuadrícula ortogonal tradicional parecen estar trazadas con escuadra y compás. Por ejemplo, Pensylvania Avenue y Maryland Avenue se cruzan formando ángulos casi rituales, como si fuesen dibujadas con instrumentos de aprendiz de logia. El triángulo y la Tetraktys Al unir algunos de los puntos clave de la ciudad se forman triángulos equiláteros y escaleno, que recuerdan tanto a la Tetraktys pitagórica como al Delta radiante masónico, el triángulo con el ojo que todo lo ve en su interior. Washington D.C. no fue construida al azar. Su disposición recuerda más a la de un templo iniciático que a la de una ciudad práctica. Cada monumento, cada calle y cada eje visual parece tener una función simbólica. La ciudad se convierte así en un espacio ritualizado, diseñado para canalizar no solo el poder político, sino el espiritual. Esto concuerda con la visión de muchos de los Padres Fundadores, que eran masones y creían en una forma de deísmo ilustrado, donde Dios no era el dios de una religión concreta, sino el Gran Arquitecto del Universo, la divinidad racional que había creado el cosmos a través de leyes matemáticas y geométricas. Hay quienes consideran todas estas conexiones como meras coincidencias. Pero otros —historiadores, ocultistas, arquitectos, e incluso funcionarios del propio Capitolio— han reconocido que la influencia masónica en el diseño de Washington D.C. no puede negarse. George Washington, masón de alto grado, puso la primera piedra del Capitolio en una ceremonia masónica el 18 de septiembre de 1793, vistiendo su delantal de logia. La colocación de monumentos, obeliscos (como el del Washington Monument) y referencias astrológicas refuerzan la idea de que la ciudad está alineada no solo con principios políticos, sino con principios cósmicos. Washington sigue siendo una ciudad codificada. Muchos de sus símbolos están a la vista, pero pocos los reconocen. El diseño original de L’Enfant fue alterado con el tiempo, sí, pero los patrones geométricos centrales permanecen. Y algunos sostienen que el espíritu de los antiguos pitagóricos, con su amor por los números sagrados y la geometría divina, vive hoy en las estructuras de poder moderno… solo que oculto entre calles, columnas y monumentos. ………………………………………………………………………………………. Bueno y me despido con algunas de mis ultimas Frases_UTP, ya saben, esas perlas que voy soltando de vez en cuando y que tienen agrupadas en Twitter bajo ese hastag: “Somos jockeys ocasionales de almas inmanentes, montando a galope los corceles efímeros de nuestra existencia terrenal, en un fugaz viaje donde el viento del tiempo susurra nuestra impermanencia y la tierra guarda el eco de nuestras huellas pasajeras." “Tanto el sabio como el ignorante pueden tomar malas decisiones, pero solo el ignorante no admite haberlas tomado.” “Si trabajas el presente nunca sentirás vergüenza por el pasado y te sentirás orgulloso en el futuro.” ………………………………………………………………………………………. Conductor del programa UTP Ramón Valero @tecn_preocupado Un técnico Preocupado un FP2 IVOOX UTP http://cutt.ly/dzhhGrf BLOG http://cutt.ly/dzhh2LX Ayúdame desde mi Crowfunding aquí https://cutt.ly/W0DsPVq Invitados Dra Yane #JusticiaParaUTP @ayec98_2 Médico y Buscadora de la verdad. Con Dios siempre! No permito q me dividan c/izq -derecha, raza, religión ni nada de la Creación. https://youtu.be/TXEEZUYd4c0 …. soros triplehijueputa @soroshijueputa2 En contra de un sistema corrupto al servicio de la élite globalista …. José Antonio @jasava7 Mensajero de la Nueva Era. Librepensador y escritor. Ciudadano del Mundo. Derecho Natural. DDHH. Paz, equidad y fraternidad. Jinete en lucha por un Mundo Mejor. …. SirGalahad @Sirgalahad79 Mi honor se llama lealtad. …. LaJessi @LaJessibot Donde hay bromas hay verdades | Qué no te engañen la pena es la novia del pene #NoTeRaye #TweetStar Filósofa del barrio #CBD No me llames cani o #tekillyulabida …. Ernesto @Ernesto22596980 A mi me paga Putin EXPEDIENTE ROYUELA …. Luz Madeleine Munayco @lecabel8 ………………………………………………………………………………………. Enlaces citados en el podcast: AYUDA A TRAVÉS DE LA COMPRA DE MIS LIBROS https://tecnicopreocupado.com/2024/11/16/ayuda-a-traves-de-la-compra-de-mis-libros/ UTP8 Universo fractal https://www.ivoox.com/utp8-universo-fractal-audios-mp3_rf_9991951_1.html El Papa y Roma… https://x.com/ElHiloRojoTV/status/1914235914999521647 Hilo sobre el papa https://x.com/tecn_preocupado/status/1914770003712467453 Féretro de papa Francisco como bandera de España https://x.com/ayec98_2/status/1915421017083711970 Capilla ardiente papa Francisco como sexo femenino https://x.com/ayec98_2/status/1915173455655215303 UTP268 Matematicas Vorticiales: Explorando el Tejido del Universo https://www.ivoox.com/utp268-matematicas-vorticiales-explorando-tejido-del-universo-audios-mp3_rf_121126662_1.html UTP272 Matemáticas Vorticiales: los vórtices de la vida https://www.ivoox.com/utp272-matematicas-vorticiales-vortices-vida-audios-mp3_rf_122197421_1.html ………………………………………………………………………………………. Música utilizada en este podcast: Tema inicial Heros ………………………………………………………………………………………. Epílogo ÚRSULA - AGUA DE LIMÓN https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKfs8GIorhc

At an interesting and quick pace, The man asked to be seen by the doctor, A wish, No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened— He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel (And a shower for a show!) O Conan!!! That just became so readily amusing to me, That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader An atrocity unwinding for us we have found— and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times, To be one another, and all at all times! A quest! Given a seat at the entry, To have been given any attention, And keep each of them with me A mention— For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “ We'll ask— (But no children please) I get it; I got tracked down for an autograph And asked for one, if any For a stone each Goes to the other. Listen, Movement again Catch me if you can, car//cat. What a head trip What a head trip What a disasterous ask, How I failed to have lost you at all, And found one at the crossroads, Dropped off at the crosswalk Don't forget waffles! Stramlining streamers And bicycle tires Times of the times Of the times (Of the times, I said) I love iron And ironing boards in the flatiron district Don't do anything I wouldn't (Fair, and very well said.) Fair and very well done, your honor Are we all on the same ark now, Noah?! No! It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously Look at me I went all that way And only lost $22 dollars! A dollar a minute! —times a wasting! I went all this way And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike {After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike} In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences —of time, through time— and by time, in and of itself, in nature —with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth; Awakened by our judgement, And in spirit, here gathered as farkind. Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it. I've got to go; That's Christopher Lloyd. John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty. Have you got your paperwork gathered? As you asked. As was commanded. Yes, sir. I see here you have— mounted— —and unmounted— —yes…this mission—several times within the last decade. I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid. *face* —uh, sir. …I see. And your continuum? Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a— (Clearing throat) Ahem. —celebrity. *coughs* —sir. [a break] —it has been well documented. All Things Considered… …All Things Considered. (Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.) (No pun intended.) That's not funny! No, it's not, but— All Things Considered… …. “All Things Considered” {Enter The Multiverse} Huh. A new show. Oh My God. What's wrong? A new parallel. —where? …close. And—how?! Since when did we ever know how things happen— [The Festival Project ™ ] —In this realm, or anywhere else? —- How's “anywhere else” sound? Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much. It won't. Please tell me you're taking these things seriously. Serous as it gets. It's as serious as they come, I think. They're going to kill him. They're going to kill me! I'm…gonna kill him. Well— that's enough! Off to work! I've gotta go! AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS —I touched it. Shut the —— UP. Um. What. You can't say that. We're live . I just did [bleep] say that Why is it— —oh my god— —where's the censor?! Are we live!? We're live! Cut to commercial! We can't! Run the backup generators. Ahahahahah. We gotta get this thing off the ground. We'll see. Oh! She's— I'm sure you'll understand lately. Through the corridor. Where's the corridor. You'll see it. *walks into wall* Er—maybe not. Portal! Portal! Portal! Always. Follow. Your instinct. Maybe later? I— Wait! Where are you going?! Somewhere else! I don't know! There's something you should know. What should I know. He—shot himself this morning. Oh, that's terrible. I might have my wires crossed, Then again, Come again, Here again— Second time The controller of everything Controller of God —but if God has a controller I guess that's who I am (That's who I am) I'm not tryna look cute today; I just wanna go in on a loan How long has it been Seen I seen what you saw— But if I saw your face, It's a whole new world I got lost once; No more scholarships No more storms, No abortions. No missed calls, No more harsh words (Harsh words lost!) No more music, More songs Fire on, Bass guitar— I play everything on the wall I'm a whole animal I got tired of the wall, I got a will to work I just won't work For a star! Someone call my employer, I got ties, and bosses Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less I'm so worthless But you started it for her No, I don't want to smile; I should just start the fire under my soul To get lost with it. I'm still tied to the art, Still tied to it all I still can't decide For my heart Or my soul If I should just move on with it. I shouldn't move over so fast; This whole car has bucket seats. I should just leave it to God, And I don't want to worry too much About projects I already took losses on If it buffers again, I know I'm in charge Just thinking about where I've gone with it says I should let it go, All the way gone. I don't need a divorce I need to resurface Just let go And just get gone I've been missing a piece of my heart And I've had a lot of fun times On rooftops But I got two dogs barkin With no bones And no boners As thrones To sit upon What was that about the crown? If my plane goes down, all is lost. I thought about voice activated doors— Keeping the lights on at night And starting wars over Don't hold onto value What doesn't serve you only Sell the dream they sold you To show you The cold shoulders; I need no more open doors And no pawns If it's not worth all of it All of it. I don't want More open doors, And more artifacts to show I could only get cold hard numbers No nurses more; Wait till you get a divorce— That'll show you the cold hard world. I'm not worried about an offer. I'm not worried about a job, As long as I've got long John Silvers I'm not worried about the way it works so much Except Leaving a piece of myself In the past, With no way to get out. (There's no way to get out) Didn't I say before That I loved the whole world over you. You built the whole world over water The wall around Rome in a day. Remember the time you sold your piece And your peace Remember what you could give To forgive To forget To spend your entire life Spinning and spinning In the wild And End-the-end It's a win-win situation. It's a push to start world, you know This—we live in A paranormal paradox Of modern amenities And [Conviniences] [The Festival Project™] —-I just want to play with him. I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished I don't plan on keeping it Or living long Or doing well— Or coming home till morning. Everyone gets worried after supper When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows I could be gone for an hour at most, Or a month, Depending on Where I'm going Nobody knows When I close my doors to visitors Open to the public, on some days. On some, Corporate function. Dress code with all the right Suits and ties, Dollar signs and Brunches Now, far beyond private Firewall And a lockdown mode. I'm dizzy with the loss of time But you'd chain me to a bedpost, Managed by a stranger Then again, at night I've lost all hopes All night, Steady fishing in a man made pond For nine hosts. So if 9 out of 10 times The answer is yes, And one no— Might as well vote; Get on with it I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet I'm already full of c/gum And water. So why not? [The Festival Project ™ ] Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades. A representative of God on all behalfs Tearing down the institutions of sanity Forbearance of betrayal Unkind, but bewildered They come in all incarnations Ignorant to one another Which one's which? However, The light that brings awareness to all things, The triad of knowledge, Wisdom and illumination Your pain is words in music Tears to translation, The chaos, destruction Of forming worlds once thought As foraged, once of thought But now become of us What we are The color of God (He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan) Oh God, here it goes Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment... Oh God, here it comes. He jumps, giving way to all element -a ragdoll, She stands basking in his glory, Nonchalont And catches him. A high tide breaks, Catching into a storm In the night, Off the coast, In Los Angeles Embargo! Embargo! A sanctioned cry, For here once more Friday comes, Again we call to all Ark, The martyr of aces— Keeper of stones, Craft of Wanda, They call God, But also non-form Circumstance of other Antithesis, Before antiquity. The light in your language Has crafted pure steadyform Emotion in my cadence, Thought to be worlds of wonder Dance, brave fortune has captured! Light, scared not of darkness But ending in all time The underworlds unknown to awareness At all— A Kingdom; See you now the heart unfold, The tired messages of animals form A love so misrepresented as to call it so One, Besides the box of fixatures, Captor or wrechetness The end of all evil, The Sun of a new kind Blood on the water, Bask in I now, Another misfortune The keeper of keys has gone and fallen Not into rest, But another world— Waking is he to the cries And the sorrow thoughts of others, The many amass, To structure what had bonded Him of his hands, The ties, No more a world he leaves behind! No more is he! Steady, mister I have forgiven the end of all what is real In exchange for your interest Sanctioned Embargo! Embargo! So, wounded mother— In your care I bloom If only to forget of you, Upon waking my own, A gifted enchanted and given sword, No shield but I, As my own title Becomes coordinates; A map and globe to scale Crafted of thought Trickle now your tears, chorus Dear chorus— Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket Have you a candle for us, Doctor— Or perhaps, As architect, You have fashioned, dear savior A mercy- Forgive us of our pondering Unknown of your nature Until light had vanished From our eyes And dark tortured skies Screeched with winds captivated As to know Where you had gone. Oh— why?! Would this lapis appease you? A ring of tin and aluminum; I thought not (Then again to think at all, Becomes your own world.) Again I am crying for your forgiveness A kindness granted Only to know once, The word of your will Again, The fur of cat is groomed With the essence of frankincense, The wreath of rosemary A run through the financial cordidor Panhandling There, I gathered wood for fire— The journey a gift of eternal enchantments A forceful trek to ponder What I had tied To my own, A heart, A soul, A seed— An ocean. Keeper's Saint, Will you again find tide with us? In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes But our bodies gravely, Not at rest, But to give way to What is wanted. Embargo! For this true, it's no comedy upon us; These acts of kindness And tea fortold Have come again, As once in Athens, And again in Rome And now in New Jerusalem, As to be Opposite Eden —and suddenly, All the blondes I had become Had come to surface That I was her, Buried in my own blindness and envy Having thought of myself as the enemy And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large I pitied again, The blankness of my own heart The displacement of my own soul Never having been loved at all By a man besides my own father She can clear a sample! Why I got licenses, Replacements and mailboxes?! I got nothing but a refund Shit 15 more minutes, no fame Control Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Six Kings since Six aces Since process Covered incofortable Since Prince given 6 senses 6 grievances Seven suns Seven daughters Seven worlds Seven waters BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City. Oh my God— That's Beyoncé. No way! It is— Oh my Yod. Seven waters please Uh… My cousins! Cousins! You didn't know—? Family. Cousins! Right A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table ||| {THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER} Sss. Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom. [Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.] #fastfridays {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S Embargo! Nonetheless, here we are-/ All unmasked and known by our titles As labels, In the unknown the darkened light spoken Had awoken to none more than chaos A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love On four accounts, Mark the 5 and 6 For an eight series coincidal There we are in the whole form If only one God, Which has been said To walk upon us, All the knowing of Nothing at all Besides the hope of a midnight dawn By candlelight Foraged in rain And pastel paint For domed cielings Incense prayers And glorious foretelling Of those to come once And again And never more Once world has sought Only fair weather modems And blinding call, so— We are again In entourage, Our own truth— Embargo! The chorus and ensemble assembles As protons and smoke, Ashes and dust, Cadences and melodies Melodramas [The Festival Project ™] Hark! How now? Vikings! —you said what? And Frat Boys! Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro.. Let me see that. To die in one way, In form another— For who can deny any artform So crafted with such delicate an I, That any you, fair beings Could understand The circumstance of what love I gave The shield of oath, The blood of sacrifice, An origin None truth would swallow Or define the son(g)bird, Once scattered and set to depart Dear storms would follow, A songbird, Canary, Dove, And the trumpets of swaddled, Mother goose and laid bane in arms, The wrath of therefore furious wages, The seeing and benign snadow of tithings Truths that borrow! Scared from creatures Actual or none at all The gallows and gourdes Of strings pulling, Speaking our words from quilted fingertips— The Gods, Safely perched and at safe distance From he who does not want her But becomes of all the treasured stone Awakened in her fortresses Cast of shadows, Bond and tied by boundless skies The Cosmos, A journey— Entered in antithesis And formed awakened in the galaxies For where apartheid stands as happened No other circumstance and safety whileyou, Will I now or neither gathered From all eyes have seen, Heart has heard, Sailors watch the sails have set Into wind with breath of air, Forming therefore more words, wisdom of color Coat of arms Swarms of aces, And currents dollars; The foretelling of stories often told, But neigh listened to, But watched and taught By neighbors with greetings, Dressed as others in our forms, How call, A truth be told, For once in the den of wolves And the call of tiles, Tires, never once to touch the ground, Chosen by nature To be fitted by those of ours Who wait in the galley— Unbynow, our ties Who have chosen in sense of nature To have forgiven us, Our lies— To have caused us To have shattered there, And on the wicked, resting wings Of a creature Who does not fly She keeps holy water by her bedside Of roses and willpower The 6th Saint of Guesses And Fantasy… Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey. Yeah! I totally forgot you existed. Well… thanks— —and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes— Oh… Brittney Murphy— Okay, that's not— —Dakota Fanning. Okay, yeah, that's— But she's like 12. She's like, 30, I think. What's the difference? A lot. Like, a decade and a half. Hollywood, ya know. Uh… Time flies. Anyway. Yeah. Reese Witherspoon. Geez. Yeah. Have fun. Wait, where are you going? I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit— Hollywood— blah blah blah. Then why am I here? Consider yourself lucky. For what?! Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project! What's “the festival Project?” I don't know. ‍♀️ —?! Welp, see ya. —!!! {embargo} I was serious enough, In my words and my ties For the sake of my bonds, Out of bounds and on Brooklyn bound trains, From Manhattan Machine washed field of fantasy, Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day In autumn, California heroine or lure, Folktales And superstardom Made of truth and of love, A new kind, The end of ages laced with wickedness A bounty on her words, The way of others are kind in their shadows, No one has called, And now, No one is watching Waiting, whisperer A different one, another kind The brief awaiting, Then there goes I Under the hidden sun, The Autumn come, The fall of man, The dawn of love, The synchronicity of sounds as songs The birds call home, No wonder the window was open. No books, All alone— To summon up my own galaxy Would be to wish I hadn't let tie me To worldly pleasure On fasting day— But yet again, Here calls my own nature, Needing to be needing to be wanted, Then withered, as it were, to something else. Hiding in your eyes, I am My love of natures kind Your hazel tides And ocean blue— The thought of jade, Who yet again Was meant for always, As I am only Darkness scorned beauty All of your luck, as my witness Forever to hear shadow To the wickedness of man Though we are not aligned, Still the same as many kind, I want not the slow churning Of being that, and this at all —as God is one And acts in many parts, All of us, Or some, Between set boundaries, Games of war, And for arguments sake, inquisitive Gestures of word fare, gameplay, Galleys and artfare— Begin to think you, me, And I, yourself, you— Lest we part in denial Of our dire cause To form man The Standard. The Classic. The Ordinary. And— You rat-toothed bastard! What did I do?! You know what you done! I haven't! And that's bad grammar— Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya! Kill me! For what! You know what! I must admit, I've become quite partial to using This Jimmy Fallon character As a human shield. WHY. WHY ME. wtf. lol Why Jimmy Fallon. Because. — AGH— NO HES GOOD HOOMAN SHIELD. ___ HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD! Enter the corridors, The unclaimed nature Of travelers, in our time, Coming the wave of signs, Foreigners, Call watchers, Then and here, Come waiting, wanting to know glory, The foundation Of Love Light The faceless god Comes creeping in the night Seeking body to form Among the walking, A fiercety of weapons kind Explanations embellished with Seemingly meaningless Only wanting time to waste, Skinny and shallow, Part chef and waiting, None to others, at all, Therefore I now, part ways From waves and tides To become rain and ghosts, Beauty and wind, Lessons and learned sins, Therefore now I, Wait and wonder, Pondering to feed the birds Or quench the thirst For game and superstardom, Not only of hreatness, But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair Mustache and whiskers, Brows and hind eyes— Where are you now That I was upon waking, A mistress, But gathered now, Awakens under clouds of sun, To be another, Only formed as the ground crumbled under her Again, I live Again, I go where there is no light of sun By the shield of sight, And the whisp of this, That needs attention as such, To call I— A lost soul, But friendly enough ghost To have written songs in your partial kitewind. Then, said I— A watch upon the wrist would only tell time, But not the day or the place of arrival for I, Dear pardoned traveler, Have also come journeys Bound by galaxies grasp, To have whispered into ears, The things of Jesus You will wait for him As the curtain closes, To come again, though does he know not In which beast he will be But you, shadows Wait in his envy, The things you seek to ask and believe The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark Amongst you, believe now, A new tale of these things, As we bring peace, You are now In our forest, Whenever be you now Or forever, As all is eternal, As I am You are Fuck! Whatever that means! I know, right! Is this gonna happen every Friday now?! Every Friday you fast, yes! Goddamn! Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you. No preference or preference really— Anandar! You called me out of my— —what was I saying!? First Aliocha Then Anandar, A salamander and wildebeest this morning The grounds had shook With all of the games being played In the honor of one Then, I thought A ghost myself— Impartial to suicide, But having lost the fit of love Now to be tied at the alter, A sash Okay. Delicate rain falls from leather skies, Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm Mother of Grattitude, May I ask, Where are you now, That I've become humbled, And true to art, As having been asked, Now not scrolled upon stone walls Or scryed by fire, But in this age, Begot by light, Another monster of my mind, Shifted into these as saints, The words of songs and poems, The pages of unknown worlds, In the cyberspace, Perhaps, Also as cosmos, Also as thoughts Also as words Also as light— Also as species; These things are true to which I know With what knowledge you have gave me To think this way, Upon each breath— No attempt to be prolific, But to be at all Some wages as exchanged Material things not wanted, but needed And monetary gains, Also as thoughts now, But perhaps also cosmos True, or not? Fact, or fiction? Carson, or Fallon? What? Who wore the pants better. I— Quickly! I'm a dead man. (I'm sure they're both dead.) Hurry up! What the fuck! We're talking about two literal ghosts here! Which is why—we don't have all day. Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this? Isn't he dead too?! Perhaps, I am. Boy, the rabbit was mad… Almost as mad as the hatter, And as expected GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE! Your annual obsession is in; Turns out, you've come down with the madness We all tried on, as a hat once in fables But now, Machine washable, Returned to Amazon With the packaging label attached, And still! None was as mad as the black hatter at all! No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led Taken black, And made so strong by Alice, Who indeed had been shrunk To be fit to be tied By Kendrick Lamar, No white rabbit at all, But oh, To call him a cat, Or a hatter, Or caterpillar Would make no sense at all— At all you say?! At all, As you see, He was no red King, No, But made house of cards And all had fallen on his kingdom To become something other Than Alice at all, But also lost For you see, She had fallen, dear Alice, Into some hole in Compton, And dropped Into the bottom of the ocean Propmptly below The Island Of Long —as so is below Had happened above Once a porcelain fable, Now having been painted, With the laces Or tie died folly Of uncorked Nothing happens for nothing at all No justice for just calls, No focus, Full world The fear bought And new war For walks Erhmergersh It's a purple flermergerder! *gasps* Erhmgersh! Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!! Lurvlry! Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre! There's in sense in An evening with fate if he misses it Assumed to be dead, or with you— But for the cause, There was no absolute certainty of the remittance— The scoured and folded body Of the wonderful world of God, Once betrayed and forgotten For better or worse, With Gratitude asking for an experience Her waters had sculled canyons, And her words fell as oceans Of another place in time Or custom caskets Please bury me, sheathed in earth, So that I breathe her Forgiveness For a toxic and harmful incarnation Of our greedy Alignments and reconciliation Recognizing that— If it's going to go fast, It's gonna be loud— And if it's gonna be loud It might as well be a gun (Just kill me already) Not hungry yet, But moving my parts where they ought to be Out in the world, And not waiting at all To come home, If I'm called with the promise Of never returning —not to return here . Maybe i'm the one they call The devil himself When all I wanted Ever Was just to be loved —even by just my mother Not every other day But every day By someone I live and can't love In crustpunks city, USA Better known as Brooklyn New York Where the mullet is making a comeback God help em! I just turned back time By two whole minutes Thinking of skylines painted With music Meanwhile, I almost forgot I'm still a cat My fucking goodness But I've no use for a litter box Not even a little bit (Which things should be and which things though not) The curious case of Benjamin Button In full throttle. I'm so serious— That's the second mullet I've seen in a week. Stop it! God help em God bless em Gid love em Haven't I been standing here More than 12 minutes already? Standing still in New York As new worlds are formed With new words I must have done something wrong today. The bus driver was okay lookin. I don't look at bus drivers. I'm like— Woah, buddy. You can handle all that you can handle all this. Good job, Jimmy. Can you please stop using me as a human shield. No! Cause then I'd need another human shield! Then get another human shield! No! Why not! This one is indisposable! Oh God. Where'd she go!? Who?! God! What! She never came here! What do you mean!? She said— I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody! Well who'd you see? Nobody, just some crack head! Goddammit, we missed her! What?! Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?! What! Nobody ever told me that. How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that! You never told me that. I told you that. I know I told you that. You never told me that. Well— Goddammit. What the FUCK. Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker? Do I have something on my back? Oh look. A portal. Skrillex?! It looks like The Devil attached to my back I might have to take a knife in it A counterpart To take the hex off (Something told me not to go out.) Something also told me Nothing happens at all With no movement But God was lost as crossroads, either how And anyway, And anyway, we all got lost At one time or another What if I told you, Once formed to one another You've become Forever bonded AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! You really want to bring the— Now, When you need it most, you become the hero you are Ther you always were. But least expected it, Especially now that everyone Well fit to be Tied to the cross This for sure is why I dont fly spirit. The New York experience At poverty level Is eye opening To the inequality And injustice Foraged by ignorance I've never been to bowling green But got errands to run Honestly, You put your practically newborn baby in a bus Exposed to all these people?! BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND? #I_NY Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus In a tube top I'm not eggagerating This woman was like 70 years old And you know black don't crack! But I'm like: DAMN. Who GRANDMAMA IS THIS?! Then she gon sit down next to me, And get on Instagram. She's checkin her stories. I'm like— Damn, She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother. That's— I'm like Woah. My grandmother don't do all that. My grandma taught me how to make lemonade, that's it. How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up. That's it. This I know. Thanks grandma. I almost like this lady better. She tore up, but she hip! Is not the entire world a chemical dependence? Dancing through projects And galaxies Stunted in movement, alcoves Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides Comes again who I am, When not all else m She got off the bus, I was like “Bye grandma!” Aww. Imma miss her. She smelled good, too. You know racism is really bad When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig Or a terrible weave Than her own natural hair. I'm guilty of it myself— And this is because I know The way you are treated in public— By not only whites— but other blacks Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general— If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard. I'm rolling through the hood To return after 9 months This internet router Which never worked due to “outages” And came with hidden fees Now on my credit report The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out The most clusters of housing projects And dilapidated buildings I see— A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper A classic [EKO restaurant] {Enter The Multiverse} Punk rock Jimmy Had a lot to say Skeleton, skin and bones Skeleton Keys, I am formicated I thought none deserving of such At all All the icons And idols And suffered star worshipers Watching for lost survivors Galloping the galaxies —unicorns. Horses colored as unicorns No fair appetite at all For applications, Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy The ions, are to say at least All to none They had already worshiped her Already murdered her Already bloodied her gown! Drown, now! Die! Silence! Cadences, Return to sender, your creatures Fury of the underlord Garnished of the underwent Weeping of galaxies tied Tied, Dirty faith. Wicked wars, Sorted earth, l — Now, remember how you found her YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON. He shakes his head and smirks smugly. Oh… “OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE. You had a life? I had SOMETHING. What was it? I— *smash* Wow. —SHOULD KILL YOU. Somebody get this guy out of here! AGH?! No, it's okay. You were wrong about everything. I was— you just shifted. Excuse me? You shifted! Who are you?! BUBBLEEEEESSSSS!!!! I'm— so sorry. THEY KILLED MY DOG. Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!” BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!! OH GOD, BUBBLES!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

At an interesting and quick pace, The man asked to be seen by the doctor, A wish, No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened— He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel (And a shower for a show!) O Conan!!! That just became so readily amusing to me, That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader An atrocity unwinding for us we have found— and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times, To be one another, and all at all times! A quest! Given a seat at the entry, To have been given any attention, And keep each of them with me A mention— For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “ We'll ask— (But no children please) I get it; I got tracked down for an autograph And asked for one, if any For a stone each Goes to the other. Listen, Movement again Catch me if you can, car//cat. What a head trip What a head trip What a disasterous ask, How I failed to have lost you at all, And found one at the crossroads, Dropped off at the crosswalk Don't forget waffles! Stramlining streamers And bicycle tires Times of the times Of the times (Of the times, I said) I love iron And ironing boards in the flatiron district Don't do anything I wouldn't (Fair, and very well said.) Fair and very well done, your honor Are we all on the same ark now, Noah?! No! It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously Look at me I went all that way And only lost $22 dollars! A dollar a minute! —times a wasting! I went all this way And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike {After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike} In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences —of time, through time— and by time, in and of itself, in nature —with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth; Awakened by our judgement, And in spirit, here gathered as farkind. Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it. I've got to go; That's Christopher Lloyd. John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty. Have you got your paperwork gathered? As you asked. As was commanded. Yes, sir. I see here you have— mounted— —and unmounted— —yes…this mission—several times within the last decade. I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid. *face* —uh, sir. …I see. And your continuum? Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a— (Clearing throat) Ahem. —celebrity. *coughs* —sir. [a break] —it has been well documented. All Things Considered… …All Things Considered. (Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.) (No pun intended.) That's not funny! No, it's not, but— All Things Considered… …. “All Things Considered” {Enter The Multiverse} Huh. A new show. Oh My God. What's wrong? A new parallel. —where? …close. And—how?! Since when did we ever know how things happen— [The Festival Project ™ ] —In this realm, or anywhere else? —- How's “anywhere else” sound? Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much. It won't. Please tell me you're taking these things seriously. Serous as it gets. It's as serious as they come, I think. They're going to kill him. They're going to kill me! I'm…gonna kill him. Well— that's enough! Off to work! I've gotta go! AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS —I touched it. Shut the —— UP. Um. What. You can't say that. We're live . I just did [bleep] say that Why is it— —oh my god— —where's the censor?! Are we live!? We're live! Cut to commercial! We can't! Run the backup generators. Ahahahahah. We gotta get this thing off the ground. We'll see. Oh! She's— I'm sure you'll understand lately. Through the corridor. Where's the corridor. You'll see it. *walks into wall* Er—maybe not. Portal! Portal! Portal! Always. Follow. Your instinct. Maybe later? I— Wait! Where are you going?! Somewhere else! I don't know! There's something you should know. What should I know. He—shot himself this morning. Oh, that's terrible. I might have my wires crossed, Then again, Come again, Here again— Second time The controller of everything Controller of God —but if God has a controller I guess that's who I am (That's who I am) I'm not tryna look cute today; I just wanna go in on a loan How long has it been Seen I seen what you saw— But if I saw your face, It's a whole new world I got lost once; No more scholarships No more storms, No abortions. No missed calls, No more harsh words (Harsh words lost!) No more music, More songs Fire on, Bass guitar— I play everything on the wall I'm a whole animal I got tired of the wall, I got a will to work I just won't work For a star! Someone call my employer, I got ties, and bosses Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less I'm so worthless But you started it for her No, I don't want to smile; I should just start the fire under my soul To get lost with it. I'm still tied to the art, Still tied to it all I still can't decide For my heart Or my soul If I should just move on with it. I shouldn't move over so fast; This whole car has bucket seats. I should just leave it to God, And I don't want to worry too much About projects I already took losses on If it buffers again, I know I'm in charge Just thinking about where I've gone with it says I should let it go, All the way gone. I don't need a divorce I need to resurface Just let go And just get gone I've been missing a piece of my heart And I've had a lot of fun times On rooftops But I got two dogs barkin With no bones And no boners As thrones To sit upon What was that about the crown? If my plane goes down, all is lost. I thought about voice activated doors— Keeping the lights on at night And starting wars over Don't hold onto value What doesn't serve you only Sell the dream they sold you To show you The cold shoulders; I need no more open doors And no pawns If it's not worth all of it All of it. I don't want More open doors, And more artifacts to show I could only get cold hard numbers No nurses more; Wait till you get a divorce— That'll show you the cold hard world. I'm not worried about an offer. I'm not worried about a job, As long as I've got long John Silvers I'm not worried about the way it works so much Except Leaving a piece of myself In the past, With no way to get out. (There's no way to get out) Didn't I say before That I loved the whole world over you. You built the whole world over water The wall around Rome in a day. Remember the time you sold your piece And your peace Remember what you could give To forgive To forget To spend your entire life Spinning and spinning In the wild And End-the-end It's a win-win situation. It's a push to start world, you know This—we live in A paranormal paradox Of modern amenities And [Conviniences] [The Festival Project™] —-I just want to play with him. I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished I don't plan on keeping it Or living long Or doing well— Or coming home till morning. Everyone gets worried after supper When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows I could be gone for an hour at most, Or a month, Depending on Where I'm going Nobody knows When I close my doors to visitors Open to the public, on some days. On some, Corporate function. Dress code with all the right Suits and ties, Dollar signs and Brunches Now, far beyond private Firewall And a lockdown mode. I'm dizzy with the loss of time But you'd chain me to a bedpost, Managed by a stranger Then again, at night I've lost all hopes All night, Steady fishing in a man made pond For nine hosts. So if 9 out of 10 times The answer is yes, And one no— Might as well vote; Get on with it I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet I'm already full of c/gum And water. So why not? [The Festival Project ™ ] Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades. A representative of God on all behalfs Tearing down the institutions of sanity Forbearance of betrayal Unkind, but bewildered They come in all incarnations Ignorant to one another Which one's which? However, The light that brings awareness to all things, The triad of knowledge, Wisdom and illumination Your pain is words in music Tears to translation, The chaos, destruction Of forming worlds once thought As foraged, once of thought But now become of us What we are The color of God (He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan) Oh God, here it goes Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment... Oh God, here it comes. He jumps, giving way to all element -a ragdoll, She stands basking in his glory, Nonchalont And catches him. A high tide breaks, Catching into a storm In the night, Off the coast, In Los Angeles Embargo! Embargo! A sanctioned cry, For here once more Friday comes, Again we call to all Ark, The martyr of aces— Keeper of stones, Craft of Wanda, They call God, But also non-form Circumstance of other Antithesis, Before antiquity. The light in your language Has crafted pure steadyform Emotion in my cadence, Thought to be worlds of wonder Dance, brave fortune has captured! Light, scared not of darkness But ending in all time The underworlds unknown to awareness At all— A Kingdom; See you now the heart unfold, The tired messages of animals form A love so misrepresented as to call it so One, Besides the box of fixatures, Captor or wrechetness The end of all evil, The Sun of a new kind Blood on the water, Bask in I now, Another misfortune The keeper of keys has gone and fallen Not into rest, But another world— Waking is he to the cries And the sorrow thoughts of others, The many amass, To structure what had bonded Him of his hands, The ties, No more a world he leaves behind! No more is he! Steady, mister I have forgiven the end of all what is real In exchange for your interest Sanctioned Embargo! Embargo! So, wounded mother— In your care I bloom If only to forget of you, Upon waking my own, A gifted enchanted and given sword, No shield but I, As my own title Becomes coordinates; A map and globe to scale Crafted of thought Trickle now your tears, chorus Dear chorus— Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket Have you a candle for us, Doctor— Or perhaps, As architect, You have fashioned, dear savior A mercy- Forgive us of our pondering Unknown of your nature Until light had vanished From our eyes And dark tortured skies Screeched with winds captivated As to know Where you had gone. Oh— why?! Would this lapis appease you? A ring of tin and aluminum; I thought not (Then again to think at all, Becomes your own world.) Again I am crying for your forgiveness A kindness granted Only to know once, The word of your will Again, The fur of cat is groomed With the essence of frankincense, The wreath of rosemary A run through the financial cordidor Panhandling There, I gathered wood for fire— The journey a gift of eternal enchantments A forceful trek to ponder What I had tied To my own, A heart, A soul, A seed— An ocean. Keeper's Saint, Will you again find tide with us? In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes But our bodies gravely, Not at rest, But to give way to What is wanted. Embargo! For this true, it's no comedy upon us; These acts of kindness And tea fortold Have come again, As once in Athens, And again in Rome And now in New Jerusalem, As to be Opposite Eden —and suddenly, All the blondes I had become Had come to surface That I was her, Buried in my own blindness and envy Having thought of myself as the enemy And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large I pitied again, The blankness of my own heart The displacement of my own soul Never having been loved at all By a man besides my own father She can clear a sample! Why I got licenses, Replacements and mailboxes?! I got nothing but a refund Shit 15 more minutes, no fame Control Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Six Kings since Six aces Since process Covered incofortable Since Prince given 6 senses 6 grievances Seven suns Seven daughters Seven worlds Seven waters BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City. Oh my God— That's Beyoncé. No way! It is— Oh my Yod. Seven waters please Uh… My cousins! Cousins! You didn't know—? Family. Cousins! Right A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table ||| {THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER} Sss. Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom. [Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.] #fastfridays {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S Embargo! Nonetheless, here we are-/ All unmasked and known by our titles As labels, In the unknown the darkened light spoken Had awoken to none more than chaos A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love On four accounts, Mark the 5 and 6 For an eight series coincidal There we are in the whole form If only one God, Which has been said To walk upon us, All the knowing of Nothing at all Besides the hope of a midnight dawn By candlelight Foraged in rain And pastel paint For domed cielings Incense prayers And glorious foretelling Of those to come once And again And never more Once world has sought Only fair weather modems And blinding call, so— We are again In entourage, Our own truth— Embargo! The chorus and ensemble assembles As protons and smoke, Ashes and dust, Cadences and melodies Melodramas [The Festival Project ™] Hark! How now? Vikings! —you said what? And Frat Boys! Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro.. Let me see that. To die in one way, In form another— For who can deny any artform So crafted with such delicate an I, That any you, fair beings Could understand The circumstance of what love I gave The shield of oath, The blood of sacrifice, An origin None truth would swallow Or define the son(g)bird, Once scattered and set to depart Dear storms would follow, A songbird, Canary, Dove, And the trumpets of swaddled, Mother goose and laid bane in arms, The wrath of therefore furious wages, The seeing and benign snadow of tithings Truths that borrow! Scared from creatures Actual or none at all The gallows and gourdes Of strings pulling, Speaking our words from quilted fingertips— The Gods, Safely perched and at safe distance From he who does not want her But becomes of all the treasured stone Awakened in her fortresses Cast of shadows, Bond and tied by boundless skies The Cosmos, A journey— Entered in antithesis And formed awakened in the galaxies For where apartheid stands as happened No other circumstance and safety whileyou, Will I now or neither gathered From all eyes have seen, Heart has heard, Sailors watch the sails have set Into wind with breath of air, Forming therefore more words, wisdom of color Coat of arms Swarms of aces, And currents dollars; The foretelling of stories often told, But neigh listened to, But watched and taught By neighbors with greetings, Dressed as others in our forms, How call, A truth be told, For once in the den of wolves And the call of tiles, Tires, never once to touch the ground, Chosen by nature To be fitted by those of ours Who wait in the galley— Unbynow, our ties Who have chosen in sense of nature To have forgiven us, Our lies— To have caused us To have shattered there, And on the wicked, resting wings Of a creature Who does not fly She keeps holy water by her bedside Of roses and willpower The 6th Saint of Guesses And Fantasy… Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey. Yeah! I totally forgot you existed. Well… thanks— —and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes— Oh… Brittney Murphy— Okay, that's not— —Dakota Fanning. Okay, yeah, that's— But she's like 12. She's like, 30, I think. What's the difference? A lot. Like, a decade and a half. Hollywood, ya know. Uh… Time flies. Anyway. Yeah. Reese Witherspoon. Geez. Yeah. Have fun. Wait, where are you going? I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit— Hollywood— blah blah blah. Then why am I here? Consider yourself lucky. For what?! Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project! What's “the festival Project?” I don't know. ‍♀️ —?! Welp, see ya. —!!! {embargo} I was serious enough, In my words and my ties For the sake of my bonds, Out of bounds and on Brooklyn bound trains, From Manhattan Machine washed field of fantasy, Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day In autumn, California heroine or lure, Folktales And superstardom Made of truth and of love, A new kind, The end of ages laced with wickedness A bounty on her words, The way of others are kind in their shadows, No one has called, And now, No one is watching Waiting, whisperer A different one, another kind The brief awaiting, Then there goes I Under the hidden sun, The Autumn come, The fall of man, The dawn of love, The synchronicity of sounds as songs The birds call home, No wonder the window was open. No books, All alone— To summon up my own galaxy Would be to wish I hadn't let tie me To worldly pleasure On fasting day— But yet again, Here calls my own nature, Needing to be needing to be wanted, Then withered, as it were, to something else. Hiding in your eyes, I am My love of natures kind Your hazel tides And ocean blue— The thought of jade, Who yet again Was meant for always, As I am only Darkness scorned beauty All of your luck, as my witness Forever to hear shadow To the wickedness of man Though we are not aligned, Still the same as many kind, I want not the slow churning Of being that, and this at all —as God is one And acts in many parts, All of us, Or some, Between set boundaries, Games of war, And for arguments sake, inquisitive Gestures of word fare, gameplay, Galleys and artfare— Begin to think you, me, And I, yourself, you— Lest we part in denial Of our dire cause To form man The Standard. The Classic. The Ordinary. And— You rat-toothed bastard! What did I do?! You know what you done! I haven't! And that's bad grammar— Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya! Kill me! For what! You know what! I must admit, I've become quite partial to using This Jimmy Fallon character As a human shield. WHY. WHY ME. wtf. lol Why Jimmy Fallon. Because. — AGH— NO HES GOOD HOOMAN SHIELD. ___ HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD! Enter the corridors, The unclaimed nature Of travelers, in our time, Coming the wave of signs, Foreigners, Call watchers, Then and here, Come waiting, wanting to know glory, The foundation Of Love Light The faceless god Comes creeping in the night Seeking body to form Among the walking, A fiercety of weapons kind Explanations embellished with Seemingly meaningless Only wanting time to waste, Skinny and shallow, Part chef and waiting, None to others, at all, Therefore I now, part ways From waves and tides To become rain and ghosts, Beauty and wind, Lessons and learned sins, Therefore now I, Wait and wonder, Pondering to feed the birds Or quench the thirst For game and superstardom, Not only of hreatness, But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair Mustache and whiskers, Brows and hind eyes— Where are you now That I was upon waking, A mistress, But gathered now, Awakens under clouds of sun, To be another, Only formed as the ground crumbled under her Again, I live Again, I go where there is no light of sun By the shield of sight, And the whisp of this, That needs attention as such, To call I— A lost soul, But friendly enough ghost To have written songs in your partial kitewind. Then, said I— A watch upon the wrist would only tell time, But not the day or the place of arrival for I, Dear pardoned traveler, Have also come journeys Bound by galaxies grasp, To have whispered into ears, The things of Jesus You will wait for him As the curtain closes, To come again, though does he know not In which beast he will be But you, shadows Wait in his envy, The things you seek to ask and believe The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark Amongst you, believe now, A new tale of these things, As we bring peace, You are now In our forest, Whenever be you now Or forever, As all is eternal, As I am You are Fuck! Whatever that means! I know, right! Is this gonna happen every Friday now?! Every Friday you fast, yes! Goddamn! Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you. No preference or preference really— Anandar! You called me out of my— —what was I saying!? First Aliocha Then Anandar, A salamander and wildebeest this morning The grounds had shook With all of the games being played In the honor of one Then, I thought A ghost myself— Impartial to suicide, But having lost the fit of love Now to be tied at the alter, A sash Okay. Delicate rain falls from leather skies, Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm Mother of Grattitude, May I ask, Where are you now, That I've become humbled, And true to art, As having been asked, Now not scrolled upon stone walls Or scryed by fire, But in this age, Begot by light, Another monster of my mind, Shifted into these as saints, The words of songs and poems, The pages of unknown worlds, In the cyberspace, Perhaps, Also as cosmos, Also as thoughts Also as words Also as light— Also as species; These things are true to which I know With what knowledge you have gave me To think this way, Upon each breath— No attempt to be prolific, But to be at all Some wages as exchanged Material things not wanted, but needed And monetary gains, Also as thoughts now, But perhaps also cosmos True, or not? Fact, or fiction? Carson, or Fallon? What? Who wore the pants better. I— Quickly! I'm a dead man. (I'm sure they're both dead.) Hurry up! What the fuck! We're talking about two literal ghosts here! Which is why—we don't have all day. Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this? Isn't he dead too?! Perhaps, I am. Boy, the rabbit was mad… Almost as mad as the hatter, And as expected GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE! Your annual obsession is in; Turns out, you've come down with the madness We all tried on, as a hat once in fables But now, Machine washable, Returned to Amazon With the packaging label attached, And still! None was as mad as the black hatter at all! No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led Taken black, And made so strong by Alice, Who indeed had been shrunk To be fit to be tied By Kendrick Lamar, No white rabbit at all, But oh, To call him a cat, Or a hatter, Or caterpillar Would make no sense at all— At all you say?! At all, As you see, He was no red King, No, But made house of cards And all had fallen on his kingdom To become something other Than Alice at all, But also lost For you see, She had fallen, dear Alice, Into some hole in Compton, And dropped Into the bottom of the ocean Propmptly below The Island Of Long —as so is below Had happened above Once a porcelain fable, Now having been painted, With the laces Or tie died folly Of uncorked Nothing happens for nothing at all No justice for just calls, No focus, Full world The fear bought And new war For walks Erhmergersh It's a purple flermergerder! *gasps* Erhmgersh! Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!! Lurvlry! Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre! There's in sense in An evening with fate if he misses it Assumed to be dead, or with you— But for the cause, There was no absolute certainty of the remittance— The scoured and folded body Of the wonderful world of God, Once betrayed and forgotten For better or worse, With Gratitude asking for an experience Her waters had sculled canyons, And her words fell as oceans Of another place in time Or custom caskets Please bury me, sheathed in earth, So that I breathe her Forgiveness For a toxic and harmful incarnation Of our greedy Alignments and reconciliation Recognizing that— If it's going to go fast, It's gonna be loud— And if it's gonna be loud It might as well be a gun (Just kill me already) Not hungry yet, But moving my parts where they ought to be Out in the world, And not waiting at all To come home, If I'm called with the promise Of never returning —not to return here . Maybe i'm the one they call The devil himself When all I wanted Ever Was just to be loved —even by just my mother Not every other day But every day By someone I live and can't love In crustpunks city, USA Better known as Brooklyn New York Where the mullet is making a comeback God help em! I just turned back time By two whole minutes Thinking of skylines painted With music Meanwhile, I almost forgot I'm still a cat My fucking goodness But I've no use for a litter box Not even a little bit (Which things should be and which things though not) The curious case of Benjamin Button In full throttle. I'm so serious— That's the second mullet I've seen in a week. Stop it! God help em God bless em Gid love em Haven't I been standing here More than 12 minutes already? Standing still in New York As new worlds are formed With new words I must have done something wrong today. The bus driver was okay lookin. I don't look at bus drivers. I'm like— Woah, buddy. You can handle all that you can handle all this. Good job, Jimmy. Can you please stop using me as a human shield. No! Cause then I'd need another human shield! Then get another human shield! No! Why not! This one is indisposable! Oh God. Where'd she go!? Who?! God! What! She never came here! What do you mean!? She said— I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody! Well who'd you see? Nobody, just some crack head! Goddammit, we missed her! What?! Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?! What! Nobody ever told me that. How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that! You never told me that. I told you that. I know I told you that. You never told me that. Well— Goddammit. What the FUCK. Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker? Do I have something on my back? Oh look. A portal. Skrillex?! It looks like The Devil attached to my back I might have to take a knife in it A counterpart To take the hex off (Something told me not to go out.) Something also told me Nothing happens at all With no movement But God was lost as crossroads, either how And anyway, And anyway, we all got lost At one time or another What if I told you, Once formed to one another You've become Forever bonded AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! You really want to bring the— Now, When you need it most, you become the hero you are Ther you always were. But least expected it, Especially now that everyone Well fit to be Tied to the cross This for sure is why I dont fly spirit. The New York experience At poverty level Is eye opening To the inequality And injustice Foraged by ignorance I've never been to bowling green But got errands to run Honestly, You put your practically newborn baby in a bus Exposed to all these people?! BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND? #I_NY Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus In a tube top I'm not eggagerating This woman was like 70 years old And you know black don't crack! But I'm like: DAMN. Who GRANDMAMA IS THIS?! Then she gon sit down next to me, And get on Instagram. She's checkin her stories. I'm like— Damn, She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother. That's— I'm like Woah. My grandmother don't do all that. My grandma taught me how to make lemonade, that's it. How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up. That's it. This I know. Thanks grandma. I almost like this lady better. She tore up, but she hip! Is not the entire world a chemical dependence? Dancing through projects And galaxies Stunted in movement, alcoves Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides Comes again who I am, When not all else m She got off the bus, I was like “Bye grandma!” Aww. Imma miss her. She smelled good, too. You know racism is really bad When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig Or a terrible weave Than her own natural hair. I'm guilty of it myself— And this is because I know The way you are treated in public— By not only whites— but other blacks Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general— If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard. I'm rolling through the hood To return after 9 months This internet router Which never worked due to “outages” And came with hidden fees Now on my credit report The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out The most clusters of housing projects And dilapidated buildings I see— A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper A classic [EKO restaurant] {Enter The Multiverse} Punk rock Jimmy Had a lot to say Skeleton, skin and bones Skeleton Keys, I am formicated I thought none deserving of such At all All the icons And idols And suffered star worshipers Watching for lost survivors Galloping the galaxies —unicorns. Horses colored as unicorns No fair appetite at all For applications, Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy The ions, are to say at least All to none They had already worshiped her Already murdered her Already bloodied her gown! Drown, now! Die! Silence! Cadences, Return to sender, your creatures Fury of the underlord Garnished of the underwent Weeping of galaxies tied Tied, Dirty faith. Wicked wars, Sorted earth, l — Now, remember how you found her YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON. He shakes his head and smirks smugly. Oh… “OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE. You had a life? I had SOMETHING. What was it? I— *smash* Wow. —SHOULD KILL YOU. Somebody get this guy out of here! AGH?! No, it's okay. You were wrong about everything. I was— you just shifted. Excuse me? You shifted! Who are you?! BUBBLEEEEESSSSS!!!! I'm— so sorry. THEY KILLED MY DOG. Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!” BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!! OH GOD, BUBBLES!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

At an interesting and quick pace, The man asked to be seen by the doctor, A wish, No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened— He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel (And a shower for a show!) O Conan!!! That just became so readily amusing to me, That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader An atrocity unwinding for us we have found— and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times, To be one another, and all at all times! A quest! Given a seat at the entry, To have been given any attention, And keep each of them with me A mention— For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “ We'll ask— (But no children please) I get it; I got tracked down for an autograph And asked for one, if any For a stone each Goes to the other. Listen, Movement again Catch me if you can, car//cat. What a head trip What a head trip What a disasterous ask, How I failed to have lost you at all, And found one at the crossroads, Dropped off at the crosswalk Don't forget waffles! Stramlining streamers And bicycle tires Times of the times Of the times (Of the times, I said) I love iron And ironing boards in the flatiron district Don't do anything I wouldn't (Fair, and very well said.) Fair and very well done, your honor Are we all on the same ark now, Noah?! No! It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously Look at me I went all that way And only lost $22 dollars! A dollar a minute! —times a wasting! I went all this way And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike {After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike} In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences —of time, through time— and by time, in and of itself, in nature —with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth; Awakened by our judgement, And in spirit, here gathered as farkind. Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it. I've got to go; That's Christopher Lloyd. John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty. Have you got your paperwork gathered? As you asked. As was commanded. Yes, sir. I see here you have— mounted— —and unmounted— —yes…this mission—several times within the last decade. I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid. *face* —uh, sir. …I see. And your continuum? Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a— (Clearing throat) Ahem. —celebrity. *coughs* —sir. [a break] —it has been well documented. All Things Considered… …All Things Considered. (Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.) (No pun intended.) That's not funny! No, it's not, but— All Things Considered… …. “All Things Considered” {Enter The Multiverse} Huh. A new show. Oh My God. What's wrong? A new parallel. —where? …close. And—how?! Since when did we ever know how things happen— [The Festival Project ™ ] —In this realm, or anywhere else? —- How's “anywhere else” sound? Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much. It won't. Please tell me you're taking these things seriously. Serous as it gets. It's as serious as they come, I think. They're going to kill him. They're going to kill me! I'm…gonna kill him. Well— that's enough! Off to work! I've gotta go! AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS —I touched it. Shut the —— UP. Um. What. You can't say that. We're live . I just did [bleep] say that Why is it— —oh my god— —where's the censor?! Are we live!? We're live! Cut to commercial! We can't! Run the backup generators. Ahahahahah. We gotta get this thing off the ground. We'll see. Oh! She's— I'm sure you'll understand lately. Through the corridor. Where's the corridor. You'll see it. *walks into wall* Er—maybe not. Portal! Portal! Portal! Always. Follow. Your instinct. Maybe later? I— Wait! Where are you going?! Somewhere else! I don't know! There's something you should know. What should I know. He—shot himself this morning. Oh, that's terrible. I might have my wires crossed, Then again, Come again, Here again— Second time The controller of everything Controller of God —but if God has a controller I guess that's who I am (That's who I am) I'm not tryna look cute today; I just wanna go in on a loan How long has it been Seen I seen what you saw— But if I saw your face, It's a whole new world I got lost once; No more scholarships No more storms, No abortions. No missed calls, No more harsh words (Harsh words lost!) No more music, More songs Fire on, Bass guitar— I play everything on the wall I'm a whole animal I got tired of the wall, I got a will to work I just won't work For a star! Someone call my employer, I got ties, and bosses Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less I'm so worthless But you started it for her No, I don't want to smile; I should just start the fire under my soul To get lost with it. I'm still tied to the art, Still tied to it all I still can't decide For my heart Or my soul If I should just move on with it. I shouldn't move over so fast; This whole car has bucket seats. I should just leave it to God, And I don't want to worry too much About projects I already took losses on If it buffers again, I know I'm in charge Just thinking about where I've gone with it says I should let it go, All the way gone. I don't need a divorce I need to resurface Just let go And just get gone I've been missing a piece of my heart And I've had a lot of fun times On rooftops But I got two dogs barkin With no bones And no boners As thrones To sit upon What was that about the crown? If my plane goes down, all is lost. I thought about voice activated doors— Keeping the lights on at night And starting wars over Don't hold onto value What doesn't serve you only Sell the dream they sold you To show you The cold shoulders; I need no more open doors And no pawns If it's not worth all of it All of it. I don't want More open doors, And more artifacts to show I could only get cold hard numbers No nurses more; Wait till you get a divorce— That'll show you the cold hard world. I'm not worried about an offer. I'm not worried about a job, As long as I've got long John Silvers I'm not worried about the way it works so much Except Leaving a piece of myself In the past, With no way to get out. (There's no way to get out) Didn't I say before That I loved the whole world over you. You built the whole world over water The wall around Rome in a day. Remember the time you sold your piece And your peace Remember what you could give To forgive To forget To spend your entire life Spinning and spinning In the wild And End-the-end It's a win-win situation. It's a push to start world, you know This—we live in A paranormal paradox Of modern amenities And [Conviniences] [The Festival Project™] —-I just want to play with him. I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished I don't plan on keeping it Or living long Or doing well— Or coming home till morning. Everyone gets worried after supper When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows I could be gone for an hour at most, Or a month, Depending on Where I'm going Nobody knows When I close my doors to visitors Open to the public, on some days. On some, Corporate function. Dress code with all the right Suits and ties, Dollar signs and Brunches Now, far beyond private Firewall And a lockdown mode. I'm dizzy with the loss of time But you'd chain me to a bedpost, Managed by a stranger Then again, at night I've lost all hopes All night, Steady fishing in a man made pond For nine hosts. So if 9 out of 10 times The answer is yes, And one no— Might as well vote; Get on with it I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet I'm already full of c/gum And water. So why not? [The Festival Project ™ ] Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades. A representative of God on all behalfs Tearing down the institutions of sanity Forbearance of betrayal Unkind, but bewildered They come in all incarnations Ignorant to one another Which one's which? However, The light that brings awareness to all things, The triad of knowledge, Wisdom and illumination Your pain is words in music Tears to translation, The chaos, destruction Of forming worlds once thought As foraged, once of thought But now become of us What we are The color of God (He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan) Oh God, here it goes Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment... Oh God, here it comes. He jumps, giving way to all element -a ragdoll, She stands basking in his glory, Nonchalont And catches him. A high tide breaks, Catching into a storm In the night, Off the coast, In Los Angeles Embargo! Embargo! A sanctioned cry, For here once more Friday comes, Again we call to all Ark, The martyr of aces— Keeper of stones, Craft of Wanda, They call God, But also non-form Circumstance of other Antithesis, Before antiquity. The light in your language Has crafted pure steadyform Emotion in my cadence, Thought to be worlds of wonder Dance, brave fortune has captured! Light, scared not of darkness But ending in all time The underworlds unknown to awareness At all— A Kingdom; See you now the heart unfold, The tired messages of animals form A love so misrepresented as to call it so One, Besides the box of fixatures, Captor or wrechetness The end of all evil, The Sun of a new kind Blood on the water, Bask in I now, Another misfortune The keeper of keys has gone and fallen Not into rest, But another world— Waking is he to the cries And the sorrow thoughts of others, The many amass, To structure what had bonded Him of his hands, The ties, No more a world he leaves behind! No more is he! Steady, mister I have forgiven the end of all what is real In exchange for your interest Sanctioned Embargo! Embargo! So, wounded mother— In your care I bloom If only to forget of you, Upon waking my own, A gifted enchanted and given sword, No shield but I, As my own title Becomes coordinates; A map and globe to scale Crafted of thought Trickle now your tears, chorus Dear chorus— Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket Have you a candle for us, Doctor— Or perhaps, As architect, You have fashioned, dear savior A mercy- Forgive us of our pondering Unknown of your nature Until light had vanished From our eyes And dark tortured skies Screeched with winds captivated As to know Where you had gone. Oh— why?! Would this lapis appease you? A ring of tin and aluminum; I thought not (Then again to think at all, Becomes your own world.) Again I am crying for your forgiveness A kindness granted Only to know once, The word of your will Again, The fur of cat is groomed With the essence of frankincense, The wreath of rosemary A run through the financial cordidor Panhandling There, I gathered wood for fire— The journey a gift of eternal enchantments A forceful trek to ponder What I had tied To my own, A heart, A soul, A seed— An ocean. Keeper's Saint, Will you again find tide with us? In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes But our bodies gravely, Not at rest, But to give way to What is wanted. Embargo! For this true, it's no comedy upon us; These acts of kindness And tea fortold Have come again, As once in Athens, And again in Rome And now in New Jerusalem, As to be Opposite Eden —and suddenly, All the blondes I had become Had come to surface That I was her, Buried in my own blindness and envy Having thought of myself as the enemy And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large I pitied again, The blankness of my own heart The displacement of my own soul Never having been loved at all By a man besides my own father She can clear a sample! Why I got licenses, Replacements and mailboxes?! I got nothing but a refund Shit 15 more minutes, no fame Control Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Six Kings since Six aces Since process Covered incofortable Since Prince given 6 senses 6 grievances Seven suns Seven daughters Seven worlds Seven waters BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City. Oh my God— That's Beyoncé. No way! It is— Oh my Yod. Seven waters please Uh… My cousins! Cousins! You didn't know—? Family. Cousins! Right A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table ||| {THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER} Sss. Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom. [Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.] #fastfridays {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S Embargo! Nonetheless, here we are-/ All unmasked and known by our titles As labels, In the unknown the darkened light spoken Had awoken to none more than chaos A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love On four accounts, Mark the 5 and 6 For an eight series coincidal There we are in the whole form If only one God, Which has been said To walk upon us, All the knowing of Nothing at all Besides the hope of a midnight dawn By candlelight Foraged in rain And pastel paint For domed cielings Incense prayers And glorious foretelling Of those to come once And again And never more Once world has sought Only fair weather modems And blinding call, so— We are again In entourage, Our own truth— Embargo! The chorus and ensemble assembles As protons and smoke, Ashes and dust, Cadences and melodies Melodramas [The Festival Project ™] Hark! How now? Vikings! —you said what? And Frat Boys! Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro.. Let me see that. To die in one way, In form another— For who can deny any artform So crafted with such delicate an I, That any you, fair beings Could understand The circumstance of what love I gave The shield of oath, The blood of sacrifice, An origin None truth would swallow Or define the son(g)bird, Once scattered and set to depart Dear storms would follow, A songbird, Canary, Dove, And the trumpets of swaddled, Mother goose and laid bane in arms, The wrath of therefore furious wages, The seeing and benign snadow of tithings Truths that borrow! Scared from creatures Actual or none at all The gallows and gourdes Of strings pulling, Speaking our words from quilted fingertips— The Gods, Safely perched and at safe distance From he who does not want her But becomes of all the treasured stone Awakened in her fortresses Cast of shadows, Bond and tied by boundless skies The Cosmos, A journey— Entered in antithesis And formed awakened in the galaxies For where apartheid stands as happened No other circumstance and safety whileyou, Will I now or neither gathered From all eyes have seen, Heart has heard, Sailors watch the sails have set Into wind with breath of air, Forming therefore more words, wisdom of color Coat of arms Swarms of aces, And currents dollars; The foretelling of stories often told, But neigh listened to, But watched and taught By neighbors with greetings, Dressed as others in our forms, How call, A truth be told, For once in the den of wolves And the call of tiles, Tires, never once to touch the ground, Chosen by nature To be fitted by those of ours Who wait in the galley— Unbynow, our ties Who have chosen in sense of nature To have forgiven us, Our lies— To have caused us To have shattered there, And on the wicked, resting wings Of a creature Who does not fly She keeps holy water by her bedside Of roses and willpower The 6th Saint of Guesses And Fantasy… Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey. Yeah! I totally forgot you existed. Well… thanks— —and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes— Oh… Brittney Murphy— Okay, that's not— —Dakota Fanning. Okay, yeah, that's— But she's like 12. She's like, 30, I think. What's the difference? A lot. Like, a decade and a half. Hollywood, ya know. Uh… Time flies. Anyway. Yeah. Reese Witherspoon. Geez. Yeah. Have fun. Wait, where are you going? I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit— Hollywood— blah blah blah. Then why am I here? Consider yourself lucky. For what?! Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project! What's “the festival Project?” I don't know. ‍♀️ —?! Welp, see ya. —!!! {embargo} I was serious enough, In my words and my ties For the sake of my bonds, Out of bounds and on Brooklyn bound trains, From Manhattan Machine washed field of fantasy, Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day In autumn, California heroine or lure, Folktales And superstardom Made of truth and of love, A new kind, The end of ages laced with wickedness A bounty on her words, The way of others are kind in their shadows, No one has called, And now, No one is watching Waiting, whisperer A different one, another kind The brief awaiting, Then there goes I Under the hidden sun, The Autumn come, The fall of man, The dawn of love, The synchronicity of sounds as songs The birds call home, No wonder the window was open. No books, All alone— To summon up my own galaxy Would be to wish I hadn't let tie me To worldly pleasure On fasting day— But yet again, Here calls my own nature, Needing to be needing to be wanted, Then withered, as it were, to something else. Hiding in your eyes, I am My love of natures kind Your hazel tides And ocean blue— The thought of jade, Who yet again Was meant for always, As I am only Darkness scorned beauty All of your luck, as my witness Forever to hear shadow To the wickedness of man Though we are not aligned, Still the same as many kind, I want not the slow churning Of being that, and this at all —as God is one And acts in many parts, All of us, Or some, Between set boundaries, Games of war, And for arguments sake, inquisitive Gestures of word fare, gameplay, Galleys and artfare— Begin to think you, me, And I, yourself, you— Lest we part in denial Of our dire cause To form man The Standard. The Classic. The Ordinary. And— You rat-toothed bastard! What did I do?! You know what you done! I haven't! And that's bad grammar— Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya! Kill me! For what! You know what! I must admit, I've become quite partial to using This Jimmy Fallon character As a human shield. WHY. WHY ME. wtf. lol Why Jimmy Fallon. Because. — AGH— NO HES GOOD HOOMAN SHIELD. ___ HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD! Enter the corridors, The unclaimed nature Of travelers, in our time, Coming the wave of signs, Foreigners, Call watchers, Then and here, Come waiting, wanting to know glory, The foundation Of Love Light The faceless god Comes creeping in the night Seeking body to form Among the walking, A fiercety of weapons kind Explanations embellished with Seemingly meaningless Only wanting time to waste, Skinny and shallow, Part chef and waiting, None to others, at all, Therefore I now, part ways From waves and tides To become rain and ghosts, Beauty and wind, Lessons and learned sins, Therefore now I, Wait and wonder, Pondering to feed the birds Or quench the thirst For game and superstardom, Not only of hreatness, But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair Mustache and whiskers, Brows and hind eyes— Where are you now That I was upon waking, A mistress, But gathered now, Awakens under clouds of sun, To be another, Only formed as the ground crumbled under her Again, I live Again, I go where there is no light of sun By the shield of sight, And the whisp of this, That needs attention as such, To call I— A lost soul, But friendly enough ghost To have written songs in your partial kitewind. Then, said I— A watch upon the wrist would only tell time, But not the day or the place of arrival for I, Dear pardoned traveler, Have also come journeys Bound by galaxies grasp, To have whispered into ears, The things of Jesus You will wait for him As the curtain closes, To come again, though does he know not In which beast he will be But you, shadows Wait in his envy, The things you seek to ask and believe The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark Amongst you, believe now, A new tale of these things, As we bring peace, You are now In our forest, Whenever be you now Or forever, As all is eternal, As I am You are Fuck! Whatever that means! I know, right! Is this gonna happen every Friday now?! Every Friday you fast, yes! Goddamn! Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you. No preference or preference really— Anandar! You called me out of my— —what was I saying!? First Aliocha Then Anandar, A salamander and wildebeest this morning The grounds had shook With all of the games being played In the honor of one Then, I thought A ghost myself— Impartial to suicide, But having lost the fit of love Now to be tied at the alter, A sash Okay. Delicate rain falls from leather skies, Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm Mother of Grattitude, May I ask, Where are you now, That I've become humbled, And true to art, As having been asked, Now not scrolled upon stone walls Or scryed by fire, But in this age, Begot by light, Another monster of my mind, Shifted into these as saints, The words of songs and poems, The pages of unknown worlds, In the cyberspace, Perhaps, Also as cosmos, Also as thoughts Also as words Also as light— Also as species; These things are true to which I know With what knowledge you have gave me To think this way, Upon each breath— No attempt to be prolific, But to be at all Some wages as exchanged Material things not wanted, but needed And monetary gains, Also as thoughts now, But perhaps also cosmos True, or not? Fact, or fiction? Carson, or Fallon? What? Who wore the pants better. I— Quickly! I'm a dead man. (I'm sure they're both dead.) Hurry up! What the fuck! We're talking about two literal ghosts here! Which is why—we don't have all day. Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this? Isn't he dead too?! Perhaps, I am. Boy, the rabbit was mad… Almost as mad as the hatter, And as expected GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE! Your annual obsession is in; Turns out, you've come down with the madness We all tried on, as a hat once in fables But now, Machine washable, Returned to Amazon With the packaging label attached, And still! None was as mad as the black hatter at all! No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led Taken black, And made so strong by Alice, Who indeed had been shrunk To be fit to be tied By Kendrick Lamar, No white rabbit at all, But oh, To call him a cat, Or a hatter, Or caterpillar Would make no sense at all— At all you say?! At all, As you see, He was no red King, No, But made house of cards And all had fallen on his kingdom To become something other Than Alice at all, But also lost For you see, She had fallen, dear Alice, Into some hole in Compton, And dropped Into the bottom of the ocean Propmptly below The Island Of Long —as so is below Had happened above Once a porcelain fable, Now having been painted, With the laces Or tie died folly Of uncorked Nothing happens for nothing at all No justice for just calls, No focus, Full world The fear bought And new war For walks Erhmergersh It's a purple flermergerder! *gasps* Erhmgersh! Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!! Lurvlry! Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre! There's in sense in An evening with fate if he misses it Assumed to be dead, or with you— But for the cause, There was no absolute certainty of the remittance— The scoured and folded body Of the wonderful world of God, Once betrayed and forgotten For better or worse, With Gratitude asking for an experience Her waters had sculled canyons, And her words fell as oceans Of another place in time Or custom caskets Please bury me, sheathed in earth, So that I breathe her Forgiveness For a toxic and harmful incarnation Of our greedy Alignments and reconciliation Recognizing that— If it's going to go fast, It's gonna be loud— And if it's gonna be loud It might as well be a gun (Just kill me already) Not hungry yet, But moving my parts where they ought to be Out in the world, And not waiting at all To come home, If I'm called with the promise Of never returning —not to return here . Maybe i'm the one they call The devil himself When all I wanted Ever Was just to be loved —even by just my mother Not every other day But every day By someone I live and can't love In crustpunks city, USA Better known as Brooklyn New York Where the mullet is making a comeback God help em! I just turned back time By two whole minutes Thinking of skylines painted With music Meanwhile, I almost forgot I'm still a cat My fucking goodness But I've no use for a litter box Not even a little bit (Which things should be and which things though not) The curious case of Benjamin Button In full throttle. I'm so serious— That's the second mullet I've seen in a week. Stop it! God help em God bless em Gid love em Haven't I been standing here More than 12 minutes already? Standing still in New York As new worlds are formed With new words I must have done something wrong today. The bus driver was okay lookin. I don't look at bus drivers. I'm like— Woah, buddy. You can handle all that you can handle all this. Good job, Jimmy. Can you please stop using me as a human shield. No! Cause then I'd need another human shield! Then get another human shield! No! Why not! This one is indisposable! Oh God. Where'd she go!? Who?! God! What! She never came here! What do you mean!? She said— I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody! Well who'd you see? Nobody, just some crack head! Goddammit, we missed her! What?! Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?! What! Nobody ever told me that. How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that! You never told me that. I told you that. I know I told you that. You never told me that. Well— Goddammit. What the FUCK. Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker? Do I have something on my back? Oh look. A portal. Skrillex?! It looks like The Devil attached to my back I might have to take a knife in it A counterpart To take the hex off (Something told me not to go out.) Something also told me Nothing happens at all With no movement But God was lost as crossroads, either how And anyway, And anyway, we all got lost At one time or another What if I told you, Once formed to one another You've become Forever bonded AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! You really want to bring the— Now, When you need it most, you become the hero you are Ther you always were. But least expected it, Especially now that everyone Well fit to be Tied to the cross This for sure is why I dont fly spirit. The New York experience At poverty level Is eye opening To the inequality And injustice Foraged by ignorance I've never been to bowling green But got errands to run Honestly, You put your practically newborn baby in a bus Exposed to all these people?! BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND? #I_NY Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus In a tube top I'm not eggagerating This woman was like 70 years old And you know black don't crack! But I'm like: DAMN. Who GRANDMAMA IS THIS?! Then she gon sit down next to me, And get on Instagram. She's checkin her stories. I'm like— Damn, She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother. That's— I'm like Woah. My grandmother don't do all that. My grandma taught me how to make lemonade, that's it. How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up. That's it. This I know. Thanks grandma. I almost like this lady better. She tore up, but she hip! Is not the entire world a chemical dependence? Dancing through projects And galaxies Stunted in movement, alcoves Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides Comes again who I am, When not all else m She got off the bus, I was like “Bye grandma!” Aww. Imma miss her. She smelled good, too. You know racism is really bad When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig Or a terrible weave Than her own natural hair. I'm guilty of it myself— And this is because I know The way you are treated in public— By not only whites— but other blacks Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general— If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard. I'm rolling through the hood To return after 9 months This internet router Which never worked due to “outages” And came with hidden fees Now on my credit report The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out The most clusters of housing projects And dilapidated buildings I see— A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper A classic [EKO restaurant] {Enter The Multiverse} Punk rock Jimmy Had a lot to say Skeleton, skin and bones Skeleton Keys, I am formicated I thought none deserving of such At all All the icons And idols And suffered star worshipers Watching for lost survivors Galloping the galaxies —unicorns. Horses colored as unicorns No fair appetite at all For applications, Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy The ions, are to say at least All to none They had already worshiped her Already murdered her Already bloodied her gown! Drown, now! Die! Silence! Cadences, Return to sender, your creatures Fury of the underlord Garnished of the underwent Weeping of galaxies tied Tied, Dirty faith. Wicked wars, Sorted earth, l — Now, remember how you found her YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON. He shakes his head and smirks smugly. Oh… “OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE. You had a life? I had SOMETHING. What was it? I— *smash* Wow. —SHOULD KILL YOU. Somebody get this guy out of here! AGH?! No, it's okay. You were wrong about everything. I was— you just shifted. Excuse me? You shifted! Who are you?! BUBBLEEEEESSSSS!!!! I'm— so sorry. THEY KILLED MY DOG. Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!” BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!! OH GOD, BUBBLES!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

This week on Beale Street Caravan we have a soul-stirring revue from D-Vine Spirituals Records. The performance features Rev. John Wilkins, the D-Vine Spiritualettes, The Vaughn Sisters, and more. Grammy nominated blues man, Guy Davis, will be with us to deliver an installment of the Blues Hall of Fame, an exploration of the lives of the pioneers and innovators enshrined in the Blues Hall of Fame, here in Memphis, TN, brought to you by the Blues Foundation.

A team of Northwestern Medicine scientists are conducting a new longitudinal cross-sectional study to investigate why some people see to age faster than others. In this episode, John Wilkins, MD, associate director of the Human Longevity Laboratory at the Potocsnak Longevity Institute, shares details of the study, which will eventually include a variety of interventions aimed at slowing down the aging process.

Joining me on this week's episode of The English Wine Diaries is John Wilkins, Commercial Director at Itasca Wines and Penn Croft Vineyards in Hampshire. Itasca Wines is a sustainable full contract winemaking company, which under the lead of award-winning winemaker Ben Smith, delivers a grape to bottle service for a host of top wine brands and premium boutique vineyards across the UK.Ben and the Itasca team also produce wines from grapes grown in their own vineyard, Penn Croft, where they have 16,000 vines of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier and Bacchus. The business is the shared vision of local farmer and sustainable agriculture expert, Simon Porter, and filmmaker Malcolm Walker, whose credits include Star Wars, Aliens and wine documentary show Cellar Rats. Central to their business vision is sustainability and a mission to drive adoption of biodiverse viticulture and they have invested huge amounts into sustainability-focused innovations including a natural wetlands system so no waste water leaves the site, a solar farm for electricity and thermo controlled tanks. This, they say, is because they are in it for the long run and want to make wine in a way that not only protects, but actively gives back to the natural world.To find out more follow @penncroftvineyards and @itascawines on Instagram. This episode of The English Wine Diaries is brought to you in partnership with New Dawn Pubs and The Red Lion in Odiham, where you can book a Pinot & Pyjamas weekender, which includes a 2-night weekend stay, early check-in, or late check-out, a welcome glass of wine each, your choice of two nibble dishes to share, plus a £100 food and drink credit and 10% off a Penn Croft Wine Tasting & Tour - all for just £365. Visit redlionodiham.co.uk and keep an eye out on socials for your chance to win a Pinot & Pyjamas stay! With thanks, as always to our series sponsor, Wickhams, The Great British Wine Merchant. Visit wickhamwine.co.uk to see their award-winning range of English wine with free delivery on orders over £40. The English Wine Diaries listeners can also get 10% discount on their first purchase by entering the code TEWD10. Please drink responsibly.Thanks for listening to The English Wine Diaries. If you enjoyed the podcast then please leave a rating or review, it helps boost our ratings and makes it easier for other people to find us. To find out who will be joining me next on the English Wine Diaries, follow @theenglishwinediaries on Instagram and for more regular English wine news and reviews, sign up to our newsletter at thesouthernquarter.co.uk.

THE BLUES SOCIETY is a re-evaluation of the 1960s seen through the lens of the Memphis Country Blues Festival (1966-1969). It's the story of Blues masters like Furry Lewis and Robert Wilkins, who had attained fame in the 1920s but were living in obscurity by the 1960s. It's also the story of a group of white artists from the North and the South who created a celebration of African American music in a highly segregated city. THE BLUES SOCIETY follows the festival from its start in 1966 as an impromptu happening, through a period of cross-pollinization with New York's East Village scene, and up to the 1969 Festival, which mushroomed into a 3-day event and garnered substantial print and television coverage including an appearance on Steve Allen's national PBS show, Sounds of Summer. Festival co-founder and legendary music Executive Nancy Jeffries says, “Everyone remembers the 60s as a party, but there was a seriousness of purpose to what we were doing.” Furry Lewis worked for decades sweeping the city streets, so the efforts to recognize his musical accomplishments echo the 1968 Sanitation Strike, where each worker's sign proclaimed “I AM A MAN,” underlining theracist refusal to honor African Americans' basic humanity. Reaching into the present, the film ends in a 2017 concert where Rev. John Wilkins returns to the stage he last shared with his father 48 years earlier. What is the legacy of the Memphis Country Blues Festival, and who do the blues belong to in 2020?   On this episode, I will speak to Filmmaker and Scholar Augusta Palmer, daughter of Robert Palmer, one of the founding members of the Memphis Country Blues Society, who, with her team, worked relentlessly to get this film to the public. Joining Augusta in this episode will be The American Songster Don Flemons, who is featured in the film.

El idioma de John Wilkins: un ensayo de Borges.

Joining Tate this segment is John Wilkins new Head Coach of Brentwood Lady Bruins Basketball.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It's time for another edition of High School Sports Saturday with Tate Mathews. This week Tate is joined by Jeremy Cooke Head Coach of Station Camp Bison Soccer, John Wilkins new Head Coach of Brentwood Lady Bruins Basketball and Tom Kreager of The Tennessean.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It's time for another edition of High School Sports Saturday with Tate Mathews. This week Tate is joined by Jeremy Cooke Head Coach of Station Camp Bison Soccer, John Wilkins new Head Coach of Brentwood Lady Bruins Basketball and Tom Kreager of The Tennessean.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Joining Tate this segment is John Wilkins new Head Coach of Brentwood Lady Bruins Basketball.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

William MarxLittératures comparéesCollège de FranceAnnée 2023-202401 - Comment lire ? - Lire : une tâche utopiqueRésuméDans son Cours de poétique, Paul Valéry expliquait que le sentiment esthétique était ce qui reste quand tout s'est effondré autour de nous. Il y a là une sorte de cogito esthétique, à la manière de Descartes : non pas « je pense, donc je suis », mais « j'éprouve la beauté, donc je suis ». Lire est une activité intense, qui emporte tout l'être. Mais qu'est-ce que lire ? Le terme en français désigne deux activités différentes, quoique complémentaires. Savoir lire, c'est d'abord savoir déchiffrer littéralement un texte écrit. Mais lire, c'est aussi savoir comprendre et interpréter ce texte. Cette nécessité de l'interprétation est fondamentale, car le sens d'un texte ne se donne pas de lui-même. Il y a plusieurs interprétations possibles d'un texte, dont certaines sont meilleures et plus valables que les autres. Ce qu'on nomme par commodité de langage le vrai sens d'un texte est le résultat d'une construction complexe faite par le lecteur. Comme l'explique Ortega y Gasset, pour pouvoir parler, nous devons taire beaucoup de choses, le silence est une condition de la parole, et le lecteur, pour reconstituer le message, doit « construire laborieusement [en lui-même] toute la réalité mentale non dite » dans le texte. « Lire avec sérieux et sincérité » : voilà tout l'enjeu. C'est une question d'épistémologie et d'éthique. Le Saint Jérôme d'Antonello da Messina illustre fort bien cette « tâche utopique » de la lecture. Et aujourd'hui, quand se multiplient les lectures de type inquisitorial et la critique radicale des textes (cancel culture, wokism, entre autres), il convient de replacer ces nouvelles façons de lire dans un panorama historique et culturel des modes de lecture et d'interprétation.Auteurs et œuvres citésPaul Valéry, Cours de poétique, Histoires brisées. René Descartes, Discours de la méthode. Miguel de Cervantès, Don Quichotte. Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary. William K. Wimsatt, « The Intentional Fallacy ». Roland Barthes, « La Mort de l'auteur ». Aristote. Platon. Emmanuel Kant. Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. John Wilkins. Friedrich Nietzsche. José Ortega y Gasset, Qu'est-ce que lire ? Andrei Minzetanu, La Lecture vertueuse. Antonello da Messina, Saint Jérôme dans son étude. Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit.

This 2019 episode covers John Wilkins who planned out what he thought it would take for humans to travel to the moon In the 1600s. Wilkins managed to ride out a rocky time in England's history comfortably.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Join me on a spine-tingling adventure as I dive deep into the eerie legends and supernatural mysteries of Dyer Lane, Sacramento's most haunted road. From cursed witches to phantom police cars, this episode uncovers the chilling tales that have captivated believers and skeptics alike. Send voice messages to ItsMikey@MikeyPodcast.com Join the sub club ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠HERE⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Get The FREE Mikey Report ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠HERE⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Checkout the website ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠MikeyPodcast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Tap to Connect with me on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ , and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Personal ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Personal ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Support the show and grab some merch⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠HERE⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ____________________________________________________________ It's October, and we're diving headfirst into the spooky season on 'The Mikey Podcast.' If you've ever wondered about ghosts, the supernatural, or unexplained phenomena, you're in for a treat. In this episode, we embark on a journey to Dyer Lane, the infamous and purportedly most haunted road in Sacramento. But that's not all; I'll be sharing some of my most perplexing personal experiences with the unexplained. Join us as we explore the chilling stories of witches, ghosts, and even encounters with the KKK on this eerie stretch of road. Do you believe in the paranormal? Have you had any supernatural experiences of your own? Share your stories with us, and I might feature them on the next episode. Email your voice messages to ⁠TheMikeyPodcast@gmail.com⁠. Don't forget to subscribe to Mikey Podcast at MikeyPodcast.com to support our mission and gain access to exclusive content and updates. And during this aftershock week, stay tuned for exciting interviews and social media content. It's time to embrace the unknown and uncover the mysteries of Dyer Lane. Join us on 'The Mikey Podcast,' where we venture into the depths of the supernatural." Podcast Notes: Introduction to the episode and the host's fascination with the paranormal. Personal experiences with a Ouija board and a spirit named Charles. Exploring Dyer Lane in Sacramento, known as the most haunted road. Mention of a video of a previous investigation using a Ouija board (without sharing the link). Stories of witches, phantom police cars, KKK encounters, and haunted tractors on Dyer Lane. Introduction to John Wilkins, the ill-fated farmer. The Dyer Lane Satanic Cult's sinister activities and human sacrifices. The enigmatic Dyer Lane Hitchhiker and the strange events surrounding Ed Beacon. A concluding summary of the spine-tingling tour through Dyer Lane's legends and hauntings. #DyerLane #ParanormalActivity #SupernaturalStories #HauntedRoads #TheMikeyPodcast --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/mikey-muscatello9/message

In this episode, Lobo, Trash, and guest John Wilkins take on the controversy surrounding Oliver Anthony's son "Rich Men North of Richmond," discuss social and political implications, and ponder the question why things go viral. Dostoevsky -- The Idiot Steely Dan -- Show Biz Kids Unforgotten -- TV Series Grauzone -- Album

We talk about the development of the metric system, the units chemists use in their laboratories and calculations. We start with John Wilkins and Gabriel Mouton, who were ahead of their time in proposing a universal system of units. After the French Revolution, Talleyrand sponsored a logical set of units for France, which became the metric system. We talk about the early units of metric measurement, in both space and time. The we talk of its expansion across Europe and the world in the 19th and 20th centuries, and new official units added to make measurements and observations more consistent. We end with a brief mention of several non-metric or non-official units chemists still use.Support the show Support my podcast at https://www.patreon.com/thehistoryofchemistry Tell me how your life relates to chemistry! E-mail me at steve@historyofchem.com Get my book, O Mg! How Chemistry Came to Be, from World Scientific Publishing, https://www.worldscientific.com/worldscibooks/10.1142/12670#t=aboutBook

Twere But It Were So Simple – Rust Dust Today Arwen Lewis welcomes Jason Stutts, A.K.A. "Rust Dust" to the show! Some artists are deliberate in what they do, while others eagerly accept the mystery of it all. Jason Stutts, who goes by Rust Dust on record, belongs to the latter group, allowing songs to take shape in mere minutes or over the course of years, serving them the best he can with whatever sounds, words, energy, and emotions manifest. “I don't typically sit down to write a song. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to recognize them when they appear,” he says. Happen they did, for Twere But It Were So Simple. Rust Dust's second LP for Omad, is a deceptively simple, spacious-sounding LP recorded live in a ramshackle Brooklyn brownstone. The jaunty instrumental eye-opener “Helter Fukov Awakens” segues into some improbable guitar pop, with the “all-lit-up-with-nowhere-to go” gusto of “UFO.” The tasty “Ice Queen Sandwich” and “Speaking In Tongues” vibe together like Robyn Hitchcock cornering Townes Van Zandt at a buoyant, boozy rent party. Things take a slower, somber turn on the delicately played and achingly sung title track conjuring images of “snakes in my pockets, and a rope around my neck,” and “Sky,” a haunting, heartbreaking collaboration with Omad main man John DeNicola. There's also a New Orleans-inflected number, “Must Be Jelly”—plucked and blown on banjo and trombone—and a handful of covers, including a driven “You Got To Move,” inspired by the Rev. John Wilkins' arrangement, and a sparsely elegiac version of Dylan's “Knockin' On Heaven's Door.” https://www.omadrecords.com/rustdust The Arwen Lewis Show Host | Arwen Lewis Executive Producer | Jeremiah D. Higgins Producer - Sound Engineer - Richard “Dr. D” Dugan https://arwenlewismusic.com/ On Instagram, Follow Arwen Lewis Here: @thearwenlewisshow @arwenlewis www.thejeremiahshow.com On Instagram @jeremiahdhiggins https://linktr.ee/jeremiahdhiggins

This week on Beale Street Caravan we have a soul-stirring revue from D-Vine Spirituals Records. The performance features Rev. John Wilkins, the D-Vine Spiritualettes, The Vaughn Sisters, and more. Grammy nominated blues man, Guy Davis, will be with us to deliver an installment of the Blues Hall of Fame, an exploration of the lives of the pioneers and innovators enshrined in the Blues Hall of Fame, here in Memphis, TN, brought to you by the Blues Foundation.

Check out this weeks podcast as Rob, Paul and parky take a deep dive into what is going on in the world of Salford Red Devils. We look back at the Catalan win, interviews with Ryan Brierley , Andy Ackers, Paul Rowley. We have all the big news stories of the week including reaction to John Wilkins "no minerals" jibe . Whiteside's world of rugby and previews the Toulouse game on Saturday

This episode of Ski with Wade features Terence Fogarty, a pro-level water skier who wears many hats. Fogarty's Lake Flower Marina is home not only to great ski and wake surf offerings, but also the stellar H2OProShop – a watersports company started by water skiers, run by water skiers and made for water skiers. Enjoy a conversation that touches on everything from the benefits of cross-training between water and snow skiing to the groundbreaking hard-shell bindings that have taken ski tech up a notch. We also welcome to the chat an old friend, John Wilkins, who is a regular fixture in western New York each summer in addition to serving as an all-around Maître d' the rest of the year at La Point Ski Park in Florida. Previous episodes of the Ski with Wade podcast are available here.  

Octavio y David discuten el breve ensayo de Borges sobre John Wilkins y su idioma analítico. En la misma línea de Nietzsche, pero con otro tono, los urbinautas reflexionan sobre los límites del lenguaje, y la posibilidad (o imposibilidad) de nombrar las cosas.

Several new therapeutic drug classes are now available to manage lipid levels. John Wilkins, MD, MS, and Donald Lloyd-Jones, MD, ScM, of the Department of Preventive Medicine and Division of Cardiology at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, discuss the use of ezetimibe, PCSK-9 inhibitors, bempedoic acid, and icosapent ethyl to manage lipid levels in patients taking statins who require additional LDL lowering. Related Content: Novel Lipid-Lowering Therapies to Reduce Cardiovascular Risk Lipids and Lipoproteins in 2020

Southern feel, soul, rhythm and blues, country, rock & roll, greasy honky tonks; these things come to mind when thinking about Grammy-award winning keyboardist, Billy Earheart. He grew up in Tullahoma, Tennessee (an hour south of Nashville), and from there went to Muscle Shoals, Knoxville, Memphis, Nashville and currently in North Mississippi, playing with an impressive list of artists along the way.Billy is also an original member  with the Amazing Rhythm Aces, (46 years),and also has played with; Bocephus Hank Williams Jr(21 years), Al Green, B.B. King, Memphis Slim, Waylon Jennings, Eddie Hinton, Billy F.Gibbons, Reggie Young, Phineas Newborn, Earl Gaines, Roscoe Shelton, Little Larry LaDon, Jimmy Church, Fred Sanders, Kid Rock, Dickie Betts, Ace Cannon, Gatemouth Brown, Willie Cobbs, Kris Kristofferson, Sammy Hagar, Jimmy Buffet, Glen Frey, Rufus Thomas, Leslie West ,Otis Clay, Homesick James , Delbert McClinton, Bobby Rush, Eric Gales, Mark “Muleman” Massey, Kingfish(Christone Ingram), Sunnyland Slim, Watermelon Slim ,Johnny Woods, Tommy Talton, David Hood, Barry Beckett, Roger Hawkins, Jimmy Johnson (Muscle Shoals Swampers),Rev.John Wilkins, Big Jack Johnson , Rodney Crowell, Jamey Johnson, Warren Haynes, Robert Bilbo Walker, Vassar Clements, Teenie Hodges, James Burton, Alan Jackson, Fred Ford, Garry Burnside , DuWayne Burnside, Cedric Burnside,  Dave and Robert Kimbrough, Johnny Jones, Charles Wigg Walker, The Decoys, Travis Wammack, Spooner Oldham, Roland Janes, Jimmy Hall & Wet Willie, Merle Kilgore, Jumpin Gene Simmons, Fingers Taylor, Ray Benson  and more…                                                                                                                                                                           Billy is plays a Roland 88 key digital PF-50 model piano and a; Hammond XK-3c organ Proud to be a Hammond endorsee.Billy started with a Farfisa Compact in 1966. He moved to a Hammond M-2 and the big Hammond C-3 (1959 model). When he played with the Amazing Rhythm Aces in the '70s he played the Hammond C-3 as well as a six-foot Yamaha grand piano, and Wurlitzer electric piano. Billy also has a 50's Wurlitzer electric piano 120, and 2 vintage accordions, and three Leslies, along with two old upright pianos and a pump organ.Musical Highpoints and AwardsBilly won several award with the Amazing Rhythm Aces. The group was nominated for a Grammy for "Best New Artist" in 1975. They won the Grammy for Country Group in 1976 for their recording of "The End Is Not In Sight." That same year, they won the Cash Box Award for "Best Progressive Group." Other honors with the Aces include several ASCAP awards, as well as receiving the "Key to the City of Memphis" in 1976. The Aces also won a gold record for "Goin South," a double CD compilation of Southern music.One of Billy's special honors was the proclamation by Shelby County Mayor William Morris of June 28, 1985 as "Billy Earheart Day" in Memphis, Tennessee!The awards continued with Billy's association with Bocephus. The CMA presented Hank Williams, Jr. and The Bama Band with two video awards: for "My Name is Bocephus" in 1986, and for "Young Country" in 1987. 1989 brought an Emmy for the Rowdy Friends Theme from "Monday Night Football." And in 1989, the documentary and live video featuring Hank Jr. and the band, "Full Access" was certified platinum. Billy also played on the gold records Hank Live, Wild Streak, Greatest hits 3,and America the way I see it. 

Each year we get to hear from our departing seniors as well as interns about how the Lord has worked in and through them during their time at UK... This is always such a bittersweet evening. Hearing testimonies of God's faithfulness while saying farewell to beloved students! Holden Huffman starts things off, Matthew Burton (5:36), Kari Sletten (7:59), Will Jeanette (11:59), John Wilkins (18:10), Jared Boggs (21:47), Benjamin Siff (29:12), Noah Gadd (33:03), Isaac Smith (38:32), Jameson Barnes (45:42), Grace Ann Rothwell (54:03), It is well with my soul (1:02:03). Regina Gong spoke as well and I missed the recording!

John Wilkins, former editor of The Tablet, on the life of Father Hans Kung, who died this week aged 93. Sean Duggan Head Chaplain to the Irish Prison Service on how his team have adapted during the pandemic. And we take you to Cobh to hear how St Colman's Cathedral has been lifting spirits during the past year.

Entenda a contribuição de John Wilkins para a criação do quilograma. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/filhologico/message

Learn about John Wilkins' plan to enrich Britain by trading with the residents of the moon, traverse the Nutty Narrows with us and then journey on a ship whose timeline includes Vanderbilts, Thomas Edison and Madonna. Some fine wine and a lot of laughs accompany our excursion today!! --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/mary-e-swarts/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/mary-e-swarts/support

As John Wilkins began to put more serious thought into the idea of sending people to the moon, he reached out to fellow intellectuals in hopes of exploring the problem. So: How did they go about planning this ambitious endeavor, and how far did they get? Tune in to learn more in the second chapter of this two-part episode. Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com

Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com

1 Darkest Hour Rev. John Wilkins 02:48 Trouble 2 Give God the Blues Shemekia Copeland 03:48 Uncivil War 3 The Ghetto (Live) Ruthie Foster 05:10 Live at the Paramount 4 Morning in America Durand Jones & The Indications 03:52 American Love Call 5 Wolves in Disguise Izo FitzRoy 03:33 How The Mighty Fall 6 This Man Robert Cray 05:07 That's What I Heard 7 Please Let Me Go Round Again (feat. John Prine) Swamp Dogg 04:41 Sorry You Couldn't Make It 8 I Die a Little Each Day Don Bryant 02:49 You Make Me Feel 9 Recuerdos The Mavericks 05:08 En Español 10 Peace Go with You, Brother (As-Salaam-Alaikum) The Archives 04:18 Carry Me Home: A Reggae Tribute to Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson 11 01 79RS Bout To Blow 79'rs gang 03:05 advance single 12 March March The Chicks 04:04 13 A Chance to Give Mulatu Astatke + Black Jesus Experience 05:46 To Know Without Knowing 14 Prime Resources London Afrobeat Collective 06:00 Humans 15 Be Mourning [A] BLKstar 05:33 The Cycle 16 Opening Titles The Sorcerers 04:50 In Search of the Lost City of the Monkey God 17 Foot on Necks Sault 03:12 5 18 MTTT Pt. 1 Antibalas 07:20 Fu Chronicles 19 I Just Fell In Love Again Quantic & His Combo Bárbaro 03:45 Tradition In Transition 20 Cumbia Algarrobera (feat. Chico Trujillo) Son Rompe Pera 04:51 Batuco 21 makoma onipa / wiyaala 03:32 we no be machine 22 Ain't Nobody's Busines feat. Billie Holiday Bahama Soul Club 04:34 23 Lovin' Music Juna Serita 04:12 The Princess of Funk 24 Dabke System 47SOUL 05:43 Semitics 25 Not Guilty Vaudou Game Feat. Roger Damawuzan 03:56 Otodi 26 The Power of the One (feat. George Benson & Williams Singers) Bootsy Collins 04:59 The Power of the One 27 Don't Let the Old Man In Willie Nelson 03:08 First Rose of Spring 28 Court of Love Durand Jones & The Indications 03:45 American Love Call

1 The Horse Cliff Nobles (& Co) 02:28 The Horse (plus bonus tracks) 2 Grandma's Hands Rev. John Wilkins 02:48 Trouble 3 Pocomania Day Lovindeer 06:01 One Day Christian 4 Baby! You Oughta Think It Over Bobby Womack 02:39 Fly Me To The Moon 5 rhythm major lance 02:26 Single Okeh 4-7203 6 Monkey Spanner Dave & Ansel Collins 02:31 Double Barrel 7 Hey Lady Doris Duke 05:46 Woman 8 Circeo The Tibbs 03:42 The Tibbs 2020 9 Hard Times Curtis Mayfield 03:42 There's No Place Like America Today 10 brothers & sisters (first version) milton wright 04:20 complete friends and buddies 11 Everbody's Talkin' Bill Withers 03:27 Just As I Am 12 Lonely Journey Black Roots 04:36 Ghetto Feel 13 Justified Esther Phillips 05:36 Black-Eyed Blues 14 Law Of The Land The Undisputed Truth 04:31 Down To Earth 15 Baltimore Lianne La Havas 05:08 Round Nina: A Tribute to Nina Simone 16 Foot on Necks Sault 03:12 5 17 Linda Morena Quantic & His Combo Bárbaro 08:29 Tradition In Transition 18 N.E.P.A. (Never Expect Power Always) Tony Allen 07:44 N.E.P.A. 19 Part Time Lover Young Fellaz Brass Band 05:33 Danziger 20 What Is Soul Average White Band 04:35 Benny And Us 21 You can dance (if you want) Go go Lorenzo & the Davis Pickney project - You can dance (if you want) 06:30 Washington gogo sound attack Vol I 22 Mama Feelgood Martha High & Speedometer 03:54 Soul Overdue 23 Voyage To The Bottom Of The P Mutiny 04:02 Mutiny On The Mamaship 24 Riders on the storm Nils Landgren Funk Unit 05:07 FONK DA WORLD 25 You Walk Your Way The Isley Brothers 03:06 3 plus 3

1 Man from Wareika Rico 03:19 Man from Wareika 2 08 It's A Groove Mildred Clark & The Kansas City Melody-Aires 02:57 Joined Together (Peacock 1974) 3 Darkest Hour Rev. John Wilkins 02:48 Trouble 4 Get Back Roy Head & The Traits 02:15 Treat Me Right 5 Same People (That You Meet Going Up, You Meet Coming Down) Roy Head 02:26 Same People 6 Treat Her Right Roy Head 02:32 Texas Soul & Country Man:Crazy Cajun Recordings 7 Baby Cakes Maxine Brown 02:31 Unissued Wand Recordings 1963-68 8 Stop Knocking Arthur Conley 02:39 (P-Vine 12'' EP PJ-122) 9 Watch Dog Esther Phillips 02:10 Brand New Day 10 Doggin' Me Around Albert Washington 02:17 Blues & Soul Man 11 I don't lend my man Ann Peebles 02:52 Tellin' it 12 I Need More Than One Lifetime Bo-Keys featuring Percy Wiggins 02:47 Book Of Memories 13 No Brags Just Facts Stacy Lane 02:04 Excello 2302 14 Superpeople The Notations 03:47 Curtom Funk 15 It's Too Late Angie Stone 04:09 Covered in Soul 16 This World is Drunk Raphael Saadiq 04:25 Jimmy Lee 17 Stay Calm Wailing Souls 03:49 Back A Yard 18 that's the way life is Buddy Miles 01:59 A Message To The People 19 one lie (leads to another) Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band 05:19 90 day cycle people 20 For The Love Of Money The O'Jays 04:31 Live On Stage 21 Season Of the Witch BRIAN AUGER and Julie Driscoll 07:59 Auger Rhythms: Brian Auger's Musical History - DISC 1 22 Uptown Top Ranking Dub Colossus 06:02 Addis Through The Looking Glass 23 Tedose Captain Yaba 05:05 A Spear Day 24 Mulato Grupo Fantasma 04:32 Problemas 25 Give Me The Night Hot 8 Brass Band 06:07 Give Me The Night 26 Invisible Baby Charles 04:39 Baby Charles 27 Your Mama Wants Ya Back Betty Davis 03:25 This Is It 28 Drop It On Me Bobby Williams 03:35 R&R 29 Keep On Playin' Breakestra 04:04 Hit The Floor 30 Goin' Places DeRobert & The Half-Truths 02:53 I'm Tryin' 31 (I'd Walk a) Funky Mile The Grits 03:48 Make A Sound 32 IN THE DARK with NICHOLA RICHARDS THE MIGHTY MOCAMBOS 03:12 SHOWDOWN (Mocambo Records MLP 1008) 33 If You Ain't Cheating Brother Tyrone 05:00 Mindbender

Host J.D. Reager briefly touches on some good things going on for Back to the Light before playing the title track off of Rev. John Wilkins' new release for Goner Records, Trouble. Then Goner co-owner Eric Friedl (Oblivians, True Sons of Thunder) joins the show to discuss the upcoming virtual event Gonerfest 17 and a bunch of new Goner releases. Then J.D. closes the show with new songs by True Sons of Thunder, the Archaeas and Optic Sink, who are all scheduled to appear at Gonerfest. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

This week, we put John Wilkins on blast. Surprisingly, not for his involvement with Oliver Cromwell. Thank you to Defy the Mall for the use of their song The Keeper of Histories for the intro and outro of our program. As always, you can contact me at historyonblast@gmail.com or @historyonblast on twitter. Thank you. Come join us on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/groups/733644043680042/

John Wilkins III is an actor living in Atlanta, G.A., and working as an actor. In this interview we discuss what the industry is like for actors, film incentives, and balancing income while honing your craft. We gush about watching movies on DVDs back in the day, which helped us fall in love with film. Fun fact, he also happens to be my cousin and starred in my first scripted film, Trophy, in 2013.

Harrison Garcia In this episode Mark Masters talks to Harrison Garcia, show runner and almost 5 year comedian out of Denver, CO. Mark drives Harrison from Castle Rock to an open mic at Lulu's Downstairs in Manitou Springs, CO and they talk comedy, comedians, and stand up comics. They discuss: - 48 mile drive - Ben Verbeck, open mic host - Comedy in Colorado Springs - Traveling jokes - Sam Tallent - Nimble comedy - Sandy Colfax band - Korey David show in Arvada - How Harrison got started in comedy - First comedy set - 5280comedy.com - Zac Maas and John Wilkins - the importance of a punchline - be yourself, don't be the idea of a comic in your head - five years ago less comics - creative momentum requires goals - producing music shows helped with comedy - jagged mountain brewing comedy show, 3.5 years old - comedy show up top announcement - marketing a comedy show - good and bad crowds - crazy show story featuring Janae Burris and Jordan Wieleba - start mic or show for stage time - travel comedy story with Kyle Pogue - travel comedy story with Ed Bell - anchor gig (big money gig) - Yakima Washington, Bill's Place - Trapped in the snow! - Portland, OR - Liquid Lounge in Boise, ID - Twin Falls, ID - Junction Springs, KS - Vail Comedy Show - Derrick Stroup, Kallan Reese, Andy Hamilton, Pat Treuer - music show disaster - opening spot difficulty, daylight - Room orientation - MC and hosting tips - tell do not ask - Deacon Gray MC class review - goals for mic - flat punchline that usually works - Lulu's downstairs - notgoodyet.com - crowd work discussion - construction zone (I got a flat tire the next day from this) - great mic for stretching - shows - joke workshop - laying pipe in a joke writing context - Lincoln, NE And much, much more. Strap in. This is a good one. Brought to you by Not Good Yet, the book by Mark Masters. www.notgoodyet.com

In this episode Suzie investigates the mystery of the Moberly-Jourdain Incident and Trevor looks at the remarkable plan of John Wilkins. WHAT THE HISTORY? Don’t forget to subscribe to the… Continue reading "Timely Wanderings and Lunar Wonderings"

In this episode Suzie investigates the mystery of the Moberly-Jourdain Incident and Trevor looks at the remarkable plan of John Wilkins. WHAT THE HISTORY? Don’t forget to subscribe to the… Continue reading "Timely Wanderings and Lunar Wonderings"

This week on Beale Street Caravan we have a soul-stirring revue from D-Vine Spirituals Records. The performance features Rev. John Wilkins, the D-Vine Spiritualettes, The Vaughn Sisters, and more. Grammy nominated blues man, Guy Davis, will be with us to deliver an installment of the Blues Hall of Fame, an exploration of the lives of the  pioneers and innovators enshrined in the Blues Hall of Fame, here in Memphis, TN, brought to you by the Blues Foundation.

Are you ready for another dose of Olde English? This is our last foray into the mind of John Wilkins, a 17th century alien enthusiast. With one foot in science, one in philosophy, and a vestigial third set firmly in religion, he lays down his final arguments for a habitable world in the Moone.

We forge ahead with Proposition 2 in this episode. This section is all about the good book. Are we Heretiques for believing the Moone might be habitable? Was Moses keeping secrets from us? And what of this musicke of the spheares? John Wilkins lays it out for us in "all possible brevity".

In the 1600s, John Wilkins was planning out what he thought it would take for humans to travel to the moon. Wilkins managed to ride out a rocky time in England’s historycomfortably, and was well known; he appears in the diaries of Samuel Pepys. Learn more about your ad-choices at https://news.iheart.com/podcast-advertisers

He was a 17th century astronaut wannabe. And then, the Pre-Colombian ballgame of death. The fascinating story of John Wilkins and the bizarre history of ancient Mayan sports. BOX089 is vacuum sealed for freshness.

London, 1668. De geleerde John Wilkins legt de laatste hand aan een nieuwe, zelfverzonnen taal. Een taal met een megalomaan doel: een einde maken aan alle verwarring en onenigheden die er in zijn tijd heersen. Belangrijke denkers als Leibniz, Bacon en Locke kijken vol verwachting uit naar het resultaat. Maar het opheffen van de Babylonische spraakverwarring blijkt lastiger dan gedacht. Met taalwetenschapper Mark Dingemanse en taalfilosoof Jaap Maat

London, 1668. De geleerde John Wilkins legt de laatste hand aan een nieuwe, zelfverzonnen taal. Een taal met een megalomaan doel: een einde maken aan alle verwarring en onenigheden die er in zijn tijd heersen. Belangrijke denkers als Leibniz, Bacon en Locke kijken vol verwachting uit naar het resultaat. Maar het opheffen van de Babylonische spraakverwarring blijkt lastiger dan gedacht. Met taalwetenschapper Mark Dingemanse en taalfilosoof Jaap Maat

Reverend John Wilkins in a performance at the Country Blues Festival, recorded live at the Levitt Shell in midtown Memphis, TN. BSC contributor Robert Gordon returns to continue his series on the History of Hi Records.

This week we continue with an amazing display of Memphis' musical might as we feature performances from BSC's 2016 Star-lite Revue. Listen in as local heavies deliver the raw and authentic sounds of gospel, blues, and soul music as only Memphians can. This week we'll hear from The Memphis Ukulele Band, Jimbo Mathus, The Southern Sons, and Rev. John Wilkins.

In Ancient Greece, vegetarianism belongs to a secretive subculture – amongst the mystery religions of Orpheus and the musical mathematical cult of Pythagoras. Episode 3: Pythagoreans The Greek philosophers knew about vegetarians. But they were part of cults associated with the mythical figure of Orpheus, and the guru of harmony and number – Pythagoras. The people […] The post VegHist Ep 3: Pythagoreans. On the Cults of Orpheus and Pythagoras in Ancient Greece; with Hugh Bowden, Michael Beer, John Wilkins, and Armand D'Angour first appeared on THE VEGAN OPTION radio show and blog.

Episode 26 - Deadpool! Only Deadpool...can't go messing around, putting another movie to discuss here, as the Merc with a Mouth takes up all our time, haunts our dreams, makes us realize our inner love for Ryan Reynolds, so much so, we brought back John Wilkins in the Booth just to add more machismo to the show.Special Guest: John Wilkins "in the booth"Theme: Boomstick! by Kiwa!A Pots and Pans Network Production, 2016

Thony Christie, historian of science and proprietor of the Renaissance Mathematicus and Whewell's Ghost stops by to talk about Galileo, Newton, the Copernican controversy, and why it was smart to believe that the Earth didn't move. The story of how we came to understand that the Earth was not the center of the Universe is one of the most fascinating stories in the whole of the history of science. The debate over Copernicus' heliocentric model lasted for centuries, and was carried out by mathematicians, theologians, philosophers and scientists. Observational evidence initially favored a geocentric model, and definitive proof did not appear until long after the first precise data (captured by Tycho Brahe and compiled by Kepler) had persuaded most scientists of their truth. Independent scholar Thony Christie takes us through the debate on this episode of Startup Geometry.   [0.0.16] How did you get into the study of the History of Science? Eric Temple Bell Men of Mathematics. History of Mathematics and Logic: Church’s list of formal logicians, Boole, Jevons, and others.   [0.3.50] Renaissance Mathematicus and Whewell’s Gazette/Whewell’s Ghost (Whewell pronounced “Hewell”). John Wilkins, historian of biology.   [0.6.30] What was a “mathematicus”? Fields of study: astrology, astronomy, mathematics, cartography, design of engines of war, (sun)dialing, volumetrics.   Leonardo DaVinci once sent a letter describing his skills in some of these areas.   [0.14.46] Christoff Clavius. The Galileo Affair. Heliocentricity. Cardinal Barberini. Who can interpret the Bible? Cardinal Bellarmine. The difference between proof and speculation.   [0.27.00] Giordano Bruno. Miguel Serveto (Servetus).   [0.28.14] Newton. Newton & alchemy. Newton & religion. Kepler. Prisca Theologia.   [0.35.44] Interpreting Early Modern systems of thought. Lawrence Principe and William R Newman’s modern alchemical experiments. Phlogiston. Problems with turning lead into gold. (Not a problem for us, but requires a huge particle accelerator.) Roger Bacon.   [0.44.23] Newton predicted the end of the world (not before 2060). Other predictions of the end of the world. Jehovah’s Witnesses. The University of Chicago study of the Millerites.   [0.47.47] Discussion of the various Renaissance world systems or models of the universe. Why it’s obvious that the Earth doesn’t move. Tycho Brahe. Johannes Kepler. Gilbert, On the Magnet. How it was finally proved that the Earth does move. Chris Graney on star sizes, Setting Aside All Authority. Torricelli.   [1.00.00] The Rudolphine Tables. Not proof, but Kepler’s system fits the data, so Kepler’s model is probably right. Heliometers and elliptical orbits. Bradley, 1725, finds elliptical movement of stars due to Earth’s movement. Christiaan Huygens. The Earth bulges at the Equator and is flattened at the poles. Later confirmed by stellar parallax, Bessel, 1838.   [1.08.18] Book recommendations. Richard Westfall, Life of Isaac Newton. John Heilbronn, Galileo. Chris Graney, Setting Aside All Authority. Eric Scerri, The Periodic Table. My recs: Deborah Harkness, The Jewel House of Nature. (she also rediscovered The Book of Soyga, which was part of John Dee’s library, and is also a really good fiction writer.) Lost Enlightenment S. Frederick Starr.  

This week Beale Street Caravan presents performances from this year's Star-lite Revue, a concert hosted in the Stax neighborhood featuring various traditional, Memphis gospel artists. We'll hear from local institutions like Rev. John Wilkins, The Bell Singers, The Masonic Travelers, and many more.

We're back with two sets taken from the North Mississippi Hill Country Hill Country Picnic. First up is southern troubadour Cary Hudson. Then rounding out the program is a set of blues-inspired gospel from the legendary Rev. John Wilkins. BSC contributor Jim Spake stops by to continue his series on the great saxophone sidemen of the early years of rock n roll.

This week on Beale Street Caravan we visit Ellis Grove Baptist Church in Memphis and we experience an incendiary night of old school gospel music. This concert features several Memphis gospel legends - The Nonconnah Male Choir, The Hunters Chapel Singers, The Seven Brothers and BSC favorite Rev. John Wilkins closes the night with a set that blows the roof off. In this week's "The Man Who Invented Rock & Roll" segment, the late Sam Phillips reminisces about his dear friend Chester Burnett, aka "Howlin' Wolf."

As part of the BBC's year of science programming, Melvyn Bragg looks at the history of the oldest scientific learned society of them all: the Royal Society. Melvyn travels to Wadham College, Oxford, where under the shadow of the English Civil War, the young Christopher Wren and friends experimented in the garden of their inspirational college warden, John Wilkins. Back in London, as Charles II is brought to the throne from exile, the new Society is formally founded one night in Gresham College. When London burns six years later, it is two of the key early Fellows of the Society who are charged with its rebuilding. And, as Melvyn finds out, in the secret observatory in The Monument to the fire, it is science which flavours their plans.

As part of the BBC's year of science programming, Melvyn Bragg looks at the history of the oldest scientific learned society of them all: the Royal Society. Melvyn travels to Wadham College, Oxford, where under the shadow of the English Civil War, the young Christopher Wren and friends experimented in the garden of their inspirational college warden, John Wilkins. Back in London, as Charles II is brought to the throne from exile, the new Society is formally founded one night in Gresham College. When London burns six years later, it is two of the key early Fellows of the Society who are charged with its rebuilding. And, as Melvyn finds out, in the secret observatory in The Monument to the fire, it is science which flavours their plans.