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the flowering of the future in and around Callisto's Garden

where the rule of love has deposed all others,
arranging everything into a skein
of strangely sophisticated synchronicities...







for overview and full contents
of this b(l)og*, paste in
(if you have not yet arrived at):

http://callistosgarden.blogspot.com



*somewhere between
a blog on the way to a like
and a bog on the way to a lake



Tuesday, September 13, 2016





(if possible use laptop screen or larger for this page, 
phone version is not well formatted)
warning: Callisto's Garden contains 

newborn, infantile, and childish ideas 
that you must entertain, 
or they will get bored and burst out crying  

 and also crotchety old ideas that need help walking, 

 and a few possibly threateningly competitive ideas 
at the height of their powers.  




CALLISTO'S GARDEN

CONTENTS


*****************
1

 THE TROJAN HORSE:

 art and/as fashion

meditation on what some might call a Judas kiss, 
by art, of fashion

LINK 1:





****************************


2


art and/as fashion
WHEN BE IS FINALE OF SEAM


LINK 2:







*******************



********************

4

 art and/as science religion and philosophy


WHY IS RAY SMITH REVISITING PICASSO? 
this frumious float down up down up the rabbit hole 
accompanied by images from UnGuernica, 
an exhibit of art by Ray Smith.


LINK 3:



******************

4

art and/as history (personal and/as collective)

 fragments of a cherry picked --
as it makes perfect sense to leave the bark, 
twigs, and leaves to the tree --
 family history in progress

HARRY THE WIZARD OF OZYMANDIANS, Part 1, 


an historically accurate mythology

LINK 4:


could be mayhem



******************
5
fragments of a cherry picked -- 
what else should you pick, the tree?? --
family history in progress

 HARRY THE WIZARD OF OZYMANDIANS, Part 2, 

The Possibly Probable 
though Possibly Fraudulent Origins of Play-doh:
LINK 6:


could be mayhem cont.

*******************

6

 fragments of a cherry picked 
as it makes perfect sense to leave the bark, 
twigs, and leaves to the tree --
family history in progress


 HARRY THE WIZARD OF OZYMANDIANS, Part 3,
The Crazee Clazee Company and Factory

LINK 6:
could be mayhem cont.


*******************


7
fragments of a cherry picked 
as it makes perfect sense to leave the bark, 
twigs, and leaves to the tree --
family history in progress


HARRY THE WIZARD OF OZYMANDIANS, Part 4, 

 The Wizard Harry's Potter,

 Queen of Between

LINK 7:



could be mayhem cont. 

*******************


Instead of trying to get it over with,
try hoping it will never end.
You might find the shoe fits
that most unlikely foot.



8

cezannespeech -- sent over to unedited storage


*******************





art and/as religion

purple prose preface to all these prefaces in which language
(with the writer as the jockey) breaks through the ribbon
in reminding us of the necessity of reaffirming the obvious


LINK 9:
http://callistosgarden.blogspot.com/p/perniciously-perambulating-purple_20.html


 how to tame without mangling the majesty of mayhem


****************

10

 art and/as everyday life

more strangely real life mirrors 
of mythic figures in my life

Juan, Lady Guendalina, 
and Jeanie the Genie 
Come to the Aid of Humanity
in her War against the Machine Meme

'
LINK 10:

how to tame without mangling the majesty of mayhem

*******************
womanifesto

 THE ORTHODOX ROAMIN catholic 
(all inclusive, catliche) 
READ MARKSIST woMANIFESTO




LINK 12:
disabled temporarily
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1014442064704236309#editor/target=post;postID=5775096849890884041;onPublishedMenu=template;onClosedMenu=template;postNum=1;src=postname




work in progress



*******************



welcome to Callisto's Garden
Callisto's Garden, May 2016




It might not be evident how for a long long time,
but we are cultivating a garden of the read marks
that crystallize in Callisto's garden,


the proof!

and the effect producing all these causes of it.










by Moises Samon, New York Times

                                                                       
krvs at me dot com 



Posted by at

Sunday, August 14, 2016









And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.  

                                               Moby Dick  





















1


Path of the Mississippi River over time (a map of a river's space-timee)  
posted by Jerry Saltz




once upon a [specific] time, mortal creatures living in recorded time, with recorded time marked and stamped all over them, escape recorded time to appear, as my brother calls Harry, larger than life (and Kenny is no great fan of Harry) -- in this case by being a little too exactly life size -- everyman only more so.  

2
As a front, one of many, the wizard deals in circus prizes and gimmicks, like a little black bag you can set on a table, and a few seconds after you let go of it, it starts laughing its head off. * It isn't long before the tin man, straw man, and other adorable characters make their way to Harry in search of brains, heart, and courage.  The magnet draws these uncharged souls who wiggle over to him like thin iron shavings, and soon they're spellbound.  


Hirsch clan with post-post-(not-not)-warlocky 
(not-not-not-not-post-war lucky) Harry

and spritely spouse Suzy at far left.

Here, with his premature widow's peak, he resembles Harry Potter, 
but after they over-correct his thyroid condition with radioactive iodine,
he suffers mild rotundity and grows a mustache,
by which he bears a strong resemblance to the actor, Frank Morgan,
or rather, Morgan, the actor who plays him, resembles the wizard.
More pictures forthcoming.


 3
Harry remains secretly scornful and often weary of Oz, the virtually virtual, phantasmagoric city on the river, the emerald Eldorado under the spell of the wicked rich and all their mesmerized munchkins -- and he often drifts off, and then floats back through the rainbow mists of what is to when it isn't yet, when it's those letters he writes from Kansas teeming with hopes as cans as wills to do, and from there he drifts down to the state he pops out in, Okmulgee, OK the very locality, when there's no hope, for nothing's lacked, he's a ton of ok just as he is, sixteen pounds (a record breaker!) the heavyweight champion of the state of OK, oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day.  




corn rising (upper left quadrant) among among the roses in Callisto's Garden

4
Meanwhile, back in misery, with the wizard flown home, the cartoon characters' confidence flags, the stuff he gives magic powers to loses its charge. When this outcome appears in his crystal ball, the wizard's mood turns dark, as he's sucked back up to hopes and cans, then back over the rainbow mists to Emerald city with its tornado green skies mirroring his eyes.  The storm that carries him back wreaks havoc on whatever's not in the eye of it, or just beyond the razor's edge (where directly encircling the devastated zone -- where I am, he will shatter me in other ways -- the tables remain set with the wine glasses intact and upright).  



Harry's Magic Factory in the Immigrant House after a Tornado



5
After landing in the immigrant house, he flips on the loud speakers of the palace and booms out mystifying threats by which the cowardly lions keep pawing at the door, eventually breaking it down, and if one's an alpha too, it's not a pretty sight.  That's how Harry's good intentions pave the road to hell in the great hand basket squirming with scarred, scared lions -- all the tin and straw men now professing to be daring kings of the forest -- who, when not lick lick licking each other on facebook, are roaring and mauling each other and eating each other's babies. I didn't mean to go there, but wherever evolution rules, which seems to be everywhere, it's a tit for tat world, where you always have to harrow hell to find your way to paradise.  Freedom is always traveling upward, going against the current of Old Man River, yet you're riding on his back to leave him behind.  He's singing his sad song to help you along.  "I gave you wings daughterala, now fly away."


5a
The wizard's favorite song is Old Man River. He sings it pretty much constantly.  His sonorous strains of Old Man River echo all the way to the elevator where he lies dying in  Missouri Baptist, in the remote suburb of Creve Coeur (pronounced, heartbreakingly, creeve core). Meanwhile, to reclaim its merman, the Mississippi rises up to record heights, and waits at the hospital door. To say good-bye, we stand around his corpse singing that selfsame song. Shocking Cousin Jeanne, who disapproves of creative funerals, Kathy hires a booming baritone to sing it from the choir loft at Harry's.  Some might say Jeanne has a point, as Harry so likes the baritone's singing of his song, he decides to linger a while longer and haunt the funeral. Then, when this guy I never met starts spouting about what a great guy Harry was, he occupies the microphone, which literally blows its top, which almost breaks the guys nose as it flies into the pews.


6
Not just orchestrating the metaphysical mayhem that unfolds herein, greenish bluish brownish Old Man River manifests manifold marvels, like after Harry covers his chameleon eyes, and just by intoning the words --- greenish greenish greenish, blueish blueish blueish, or brownish brownish brownish, when he opens them -- here comes everybody! joys to the world!-- he has turned into another of the three main types of the billions of us.

Unretouched as found, image of approach to weirdly
green tinted Emerald City just as I have often beheld it



How lowdown, cowardly, and bureaucratic can the world get, when Don Quixote and The Wizard of Oz, the fairy tales that debunk fairy tales, are the best we can do.   King Harry at least recovers the reversibility of such narratives, so the fairy tale can bunk as well debunk itself, and also hunker down in the middle of, and transparent to, its own motion, refusing to budge.


8
The wizard's turbulent commutings materialize in the paintings of that era that most all look like storms or tornados reflecting past and future rainbows, those most faithful to the inside of Harry's head being those of the de Koonings, clearly kindred spirits.*


Elaine de Kooning, Bullfight, 1959

9
 As the tempests he conjures up solidify in contemporary paintings, the rainbows between the storms 3-D print themselves into a great shining ribbon bending with your mind as you weave around it, or you can ride the ferris wheel cab up through the framework of the supple metal spine of the silver snake doing downward dog for a view at the top of the green sea of Oz all the way to the wizard's old house and tower.


Materialized rainbow melting back into a mirage.

10
Hailing from a long line of our land's greatest poets, the executors of the 3-D printout think how beautiful and apt its image would appear rippling over Old Man River, so they poetically licentiously put it on the wrong side of the state. 



footnote:

11
*Among the boxes of gimmicks and gadgets, I know I've seen medals, lockets...  It's a pack rat's security blanket he needs to cover us with, missing no opportunity to hand out confidential little idols from the boxes, wads of cash so as to die with the IOU's we found in the closet, etc.  Oh there they are -- his old high school, college, and law school diplomas.  What with that confidence bustin out all over his early letters to Suzy, it's not like he himself needs medals, lockets, or diplomas -- though before he gets it perfectly straight, he wastes his time earning a few of the latter.  That's why he blows up like the microphone when I apply for a fellowship to pick the brains of the brain-lacking straw men, until the inflated currency crashes, thinks he.  He just glares more fiercely when Suzy offers: "but Harry, she could have become a drug addict" -- but nevertheless, he freaks out that I won't let him pay -- "Even the wild animals take care of their young." 

12
In a spatial world, you really need German or some other language where one thing doesn't have to touch the nose of the next to speak to it, where you can track things to their many causes known by many clauses simultaneously.  The blind English, French, Spanish, and Italians, among others, think in a tunnel, out of sight out of mind, the last straw is the only one that breaks the camel's back.  Over-simplifying a problem leads to greater complications.  


Making Sense in a Sensory World
or...How to Become a River, June, 2016


13
But then again, if you, as a human, spend too much time in such visionary languages, you can achieve too much distance, you can grow cold as a hawk stalking a squirrel, and you need to touch base with a language whose eyes have fallen shut in the throes of the kiss of the world by the word, le monde par le mot -- angelish English, mon mari, and maybe some rolls in the heh! with the wench of French.  end of aside.


Harry's story continued in next blog entry at:





Note: in case the craft remains grounded, as the soil requires fertilizer, discursive posts justifying synchronicity and other yet stranger effects in a world of experiential (versus either moral or strictly sub-microscopic) relativity can be found at





All the blog posts reveal pockets of spacetime sliding into everyday time to incorporate and reincorporate latest and most ancient understandings in a long overdue refreshment of the long degraded screen.  




Callisto and me, 2011, by Moises Samon

krvs@me.com



this would be illegal, 
but I've endured a catholicity of cleansing rites
that I think should cover me, and you, 
if you stick to the trail I've blazed --
unless you're a militant selective fundamentalist.
(I doubt all-inclusive fundamentals are militant.)



once again, Harry's story continued in next blog entry at:








Posted by at

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

NOTE: This history of everyman only more so begins
at the following link.  Please go there if you have not come from there:




 Epilogue

The Queen of Between

32
....and so she took to writing, 

 for what is language, but ineffable Flubber or Crazee Clazee -- neutral, a skin transparent to the skin, or ghastly bright in the mind's holograms, printable, stretchable, breakable, moldable, all dried out by time and if not well structured crumbling, an imitation that, if now is always the beginning, if nature apart is an illusion, as is time apart from space, might be the original, laugh as you like.

Leaking Vessel 2014

33
writing in any case being the best thing for cleaning the rare book of writing, when dastardly divisive dirt, degraded usage contributing to the rot of the root, converting the poetic original to an arbitrary code -- starts to dribble into its very dictionary.


34
From a kerious kernel of his cob, this corn's now as high as an elephant's eye, worthy to inherit the family monkey business.  This time Veri's got hold of Toto (Terry Koko) and won't let him go and tear away the curtain, no calling your bluff this time. She just sees your bet, reader, and raises you, prepared to keep churning out more and more of this minimally pre-crystallized illustriously illuminated, moist tacky -- reader, you should be able by now to feel language on your fingertips and be eager to roll it around in your hands and make something sensible (meaning not just logical, but also sense-able; but be careful, then they'll call you as crazy as I am) with it before it crumbles or melts on your clothes -- fishy salty wordy stuff you illuminated so illustriously, 

35
be it be the book that's a face or a mask, be it the thing itself or a degraded imitation, or, optimally, one is the warp and the other woof, one the form, the other the dappled, freckled shadows -- hoping to give the world a lifetime supply that will do its part to extend our potentially and sometimes actually wonderful life indefinitely, on Mars or wherever.  

 In short, the last, Crazee Clayzee, crazy enough to be right, not mean enough to be too crazy, is the first, the missing link, neither world nor word, and sticking them, so long lost without each other, back together.   Everything is such a missing link, in truth, this is just the demonstrative case.   




36
God bless America and the open frontier. Different as they may be, and Vive la Difference! that yin and yang, words and world, naught-y hole and naughty peg  -- the metaphor, not him! The voracious Victorian just didn't want Kathy to move into an apartment with male roommates when he slipped into Deadwoodese and cried I don't care if it's your best friend, I don't care if it's your brother, sometimes nuthin'll stop a man but a 45! -- could synchronize so swimmingly in this vortex of synchronicity, that language play such putty in a nobody's hands!  It's a dastardly miracle.  The devil must have done it.  Lord have mercy on me!  



Willem de Kooning: Rainbow, the Devil at the Keyboard





37
This just in from the Vatican: Veri's not excommunicated!  They say a demon rushes in whenever somebody endeavors a good deed, and by the garish bulk here, the good deed intended must have been formidable.  (Phew!  Thanks to Harry, also a coin collector, for the publicly anonymous contribution to the Vatican of those papal coins.)  Far more unforgivable is to aspire to so little good as to conjure up no more than a poor little retarded illiterate demon with no global aspirations whatsoever.  Those timid aspirants are the ones who destroy little children with gestures of love. 












many thanks to Hirsch clan facebook page for photographs.  The only ones there that illuminate the text are fortuitously, coincidentally* apt in expression.

38
*despite degradation of the original code, the word, co-incidence, does not imply judgement as to the source of, or reason or lack of reason for two incidents coinciding -- by random chance or divine guidance or anything; see footnote TOWARD THE END of the scroll entitled Why is Ray Smith revisiting Picasso? -- on the necessity of restoring the roots of language and reviving the original meanings of words -- FOUND AT:

and special thanks to Doc Cousin Mary for wisely prescribing some 
all natural hair of the hot pink punk gunk that bit me




by Harry's Potter, 2014

Posted by at
NOTE: This history of everyman only more so begins
at the following link.  Please go there if you have not come from there:






The Crazee Clazee Company and Factory






28
After harrowing the hail of hot enough fer ya?s at the loading dock, we enter the warehouse smelling of wet cardboard, rotting wood, and spicy, landlocked sea salty Crazy Clayzey chemicals.  Arrived at the far end, we mount the creaking wooden steps to the office packed with toys and stuff he trafficks in, hand holdable cubic clumps of the London bridge, Teddy Roosevelt piggy banks, Wibblers, hoola hoops, scattered with aging signage reminding that, for instance, HARD WORK IS THE KEY TO SUCCESS.  

Bonnie, Barbara, Carol, Judy, Jackie, Janie, Nancy, Jeanne,
Betty Ann, Marianne, krVs, Kathy, Marybeth, Peggy
Being the littlest of eighteen cousins of tight clan compounds
the revolutionary urge typical of youngest siblings.
We get plenty of love, but no respect,
and one day just can't take it anymore.
Time to overturn the current paradigm
and take over the world!
Kenny, Jimmy, Johnny, Neil, representing, overtly, the formidable,
patricidally inclined opposition to my novel paradigm, 
where the Shear Hirsch numbers are on the she her her-sh side
in number and shell only; some are surely turncoats to our cause.

29
I've only got half his genes, am only eight years old or so, and am hard pressed to rise to the booming, wonderful wizard's superheroic standards. After he yells his head off at me for messing up the invoices after and before yelling and then yelling his head off some more at her comrades, the apparently equally incompetent Jerry, the blasé secretary who just keeps puffing on Harry's or her Pall Malls, and Solomon, the cartoon accountant who shows up every few weeks to rummage theatrically through the towering, toppling stacks of yellowing papers, he releases me to enjoy her boxed lunch with the factory girls, about six corpulent middle aged ladies in one of the cleared out storage rooms below. After lunch the girls and I march over to a converted classroom with a big hole in the ceiling, and stand around a table with a conveyor belt.  The classroom smells pleasantly putrid with the aforementioned scents, including our sweat, which, as it evaporates steams up the leaded windows.  

30
Suddenly, at the ribald rumbling, as it approaches the hole, of the big blob's tumbling innards and outers, they all lunge forward to grab and pack it, as down through a chute loosely latched to the hole hurls the very unformed, yet super-substantial Aristo-Playdohnic ideal itself!  It rains down like giant clumps of manna from heaven or, by the angry force of it, shattered tablets of the law, and piles up on the belt, higher and higher, as the bready, salty fishy fumes augment.  As skinny as the others fat, the foreman Louella, a tiny old lady aged about eighty, has mixed it up in a vat on the floor above, then come running down to help the girls on the line stuff the stuff in cups fast enough or get buried under it in the sweltering heat.  Sometimes even Harry will help. 

31
Harry, a potter of sorts, also spins up, on a giant wheel in his fabulous factory, Flubber, a flagrant, shameless imitation of silly putty.  By her early intimate acquaintance with these toys, one too a tool for cleaning rare books, the blobs of bread batter rainbow bright as disembodied light,  Crazee Clazee, which it won't kill you to eat not too much of, which crumbles when dry, which cleans the very mess it makes, and rubbery Flubber, which you can print comics on, and which both bounces and melts... 





AND NOW SOMETHING THAT FEELS LIKE ARMS HAVE GROWN NOW PRESSING PRESSING OUTWARD, CREAKING, CRACKING, THEN AN EARTH RENDING WAIL AS THE COCOON TEARS APART IN A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT!

once again, as you plant in your mind the seeds of this story, 

organic fertilizer can be found at


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