Showing posts with label GM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GM. Show all posts

Saturday

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Magus

Towards dawn sleep was at length possible. A man whom he did not recognize came to Genji in a dream.

“The court summons you.” He seemed to be reaching for Genji. “Why do you not go?”

– Lady Murasaki, Genji Monogatari


G. B. He was Giordano Bruno. And what does that mean? It means the fire. First, though, the river-journey. Orsù, disse il Nolano, andiamo e preghiamo Dio, che ne faccia accompagnare in questa sera oscura, a sì lungo Camino, per sì poco sicure strade. “Let’s go, then,” said the man from Nola, “though God help us on such a long journey, over such treacherous roads, through such a dark night.”

The city is a hermetic jewel
built of correspondences
looking through George Court’s
grille
no nothing

As the bus draws up at your central city stop, people begin to queue for it, a line stretching down the street. You are perhaps third or fourth among them. A blonde girl attempts to make her way into the queue from the opposite direction. She turns and gives you a ravishing smile as you stand back to let her in. She looks unsurprised, as if considering it her due, and yet the pure beauty, the simplicity of the gesture moves you strangely, seems to say something beyond itself. Il Nolano, il quale ha studiato ed ha pratticato ne le scuole più che noi, disse: – Mi par veder un porco passaggio; però seguitate a me. The Nolan, who had studied far more than any of us, said: – I think I see a way, a dirty way through; follow me, chaps.

Silence is a good thing
moving against the sky
(… never went to see
that Roger Hall comedy)

A drunk climbs onto the bus, with a large jingling package which he lays lovingly on the seat in front of him. “Don’t touch my iddle bibby baby’s bottle,” he announces to all of you. He loved a woman once, he confides, but she would have none of him. “I told her: ‘I’d like to get into your pants,’ but she said: “fuck off, you old bastard, you’ll never get into my pants.’ But then one day I saw her washing out on the line, so I went over and took a pair of her panties and put

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them on over my pants. Then I went and rang her front doorbell. When she came out, I told her ‘I’m in your pants,” and she had to admit I was right, that I was in her pants. She laughed and invited me in. She said, ‘You certainly are in my pants.’ And what would she say if she could see me now? ‘You silly bugger,’ she’d say, ‘what the hell are you doing to yourself?’

Non è, non è impossibile, benchè sii difficile, questa impresa. La difficoltà è quella, ch’è ordinata a far star a dietro gli poltroni. It’s not impossible, though it is difficult, this undertaking. The difficulty is of a kind to keep away cowards.


Francis jangles on the keys
you look for Bruno
in the candle-flames
– pessimistic gnosis –
think, alas, of

If you set the parameters right – the 10 orders of Angels [Mens Dei, Seraphin, Cherubin, Dominationes, Throni, Potestates, Principatus, Virtutes, Archangeli, Angeli] – the Hebrew Sephiroth [Kether: the Supreme; Hokhmah: Wisdom; Binah: Intelligence; Hesod: Charity; Gevurah: Wrath; Rahimin: Compassion; Netsch: Eternity; Hod: Majesty; Yesod: Basis; Malkuth: Kingdom] – the crystal Spheres [Primum Mobile, Caelum Stellatum, Saturnus, Iupiter, Mars, Terra, Venus, Mercuri, Sol, Elementa] – arrange each category within them on the combinatory wheels of Ramón Lull, counter the 36 Decan Demons with Bruno’s subtle cabbala, then you can control your world: order it as you see fit.


Non sol chi vence vien lodato, ma anco chi non muore da codardo e
Not only who wins comes praised, but even who not dies as coward &
poltrone: questo rigetta la colpa de la sua perdita e morte in dosso de la
poltroon: this rejects the sin of the his loss & death in back of the
sorte, e mostra al mondo, che non per suo difetto, ma per torto di fortuna è
Fate, & shows to the world, that not for his defect, but for wrong of fortune is
gionto a termine tale. Non solo è degno di onore quell’uno, ch’ha meritato
joined to end thus. Not only is worthy of honour that one, who’s merited
il palio, ma ancor quello e quell’altro, ch’ha sì ben corso, ch’è giudicato
the prize, but also that and the other, that’ve so well run, that’re judged
anco degno e sufficiente de l’aver meritato, benchè non l’abbia vinto.
also worthy & sufficient of its having merited, though not it’d won.


Tutte cose preziose son poste nel difficile. The year is 1600; it is dawn on February the 17th in the Campo de’ Fiori, Rome. Stretta e spinosa è la via de la beatitudine. Giordano Bruno, the Nolan, ex-Dominican, peripatetic traveller, magician,

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writer, lecturer, has been sentenced to be burnt alive for eight heretical views. Gran cosa forse ne promette il cielo: As a last act, before sentence is carried out, he spurns the crucifix, that device of the ancient Egyptians, appropriated by the Christians, whose true significance he alone understands.

As you lift your head, the bus-driver stops and turns. His face is the face of a god, his beauty like the sun. The other passengers rise, transformed similarly, their souls made free at last of the trappings of the flesh. Light bursts from their throats as the snow melts from their soles – the singing will never be done.

GUN
NUT