Fasten, fit closely, bind together.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Let your shit bubble quietly and then you blow, keep your cool. 

As a rule of thumb you don't want to just advertise the ushering in of this type of new epoch/era of corporate irresponsibility

turned the machines have taken over and harvested humans as sources of energy in lieu of oil and in Matrix Trilogy style glass pods - publicly in the Dubai Airport. Keep it quiet.

Run some focus groups.

Test the water.

Gauge public support for people energy in pods.


Sunday, March 25, 2007

The Standing Babas 

I'm back before you had a chance to miss me.

The Standing Babas were men who'd taken a vow never to sit down, or lie down, ever again, for the rest of their lives. They stood, day and night, forever. They ate their meals standing up, and made their toilet standing up. They prayed and worked and sang standing up.

For the first five to ten years of that constant standing, their legs began to swell. Blood moved sluggishly in exhausted veins, and muscles thickened. Their legs became huge, bloated out of recognisable shape.

During the following years, their legs gradually became thinner and thinner. Eventually only bones remained, with a paint-thin veneer of skin and the termite trails of withered veins.

The pain was unending and terrible. Spikes and spears of agony stabbed up through their feet with every downward pressure. Tormented, tortured, the Standing Babas were never still. They shifted constantly from foot to foot in a gentle, swaying dance that was mesmeriziing.

for everyone who saw it, as the sound-weaving hands of a flute player for his cobras.

Some of the Babas had made the vow when they were sixteen or seventeen years old.

They were compelled by something like the vocation that calls others, in other cultures, to become priests, rabbis, or imams. A larger number of much older men had renounced the world as preparation for death and the next level of incarnation.

The faces of the Babas were radiant with their excruciation. Sooner or later in the torment of endlessly ascending pain, every man of them assumed a luminous, transcendent beatitude.

Light, made from the agonies they suffered, streamed in their eyes, and I've never known a human source more briliant than their torured smiles. For a tiny moment in the infinitude of his suffering I alomst felt it, what the human will can drive the human body to endure and achieve. I almost understood it, that smile of his, driven insane by the will that forced it to shine.

He will not sit down.

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