"Digging up the prime peat to sell to the Scots, so they can sell their whiskey at ever higher prices to the Japanese industrymen," he sloughed. "And now all the smokers have to go outside to light up... why are scientists so mufferfookin' blind!"
i didn't know how to respond, but Nosti was on the case. "Don't answer that," he predicted. So i didn't, and it came true.
We sat quietly for a moment, interrupted only by the seals begging smokes, as we both sat spellbound watching the future volcano that was Pt. Reyes erupt with a fury only future generations would understand. I drifted off, sadly watching the demise of the Bay Area i'd grown to love... too painful to watch as the lava damned the Golden Gate.
The sting of his palm across my face brought me back to the beach. "Wake up, you Mars square in the seventh house Aschloch!" so i did, once again a testament to his predilective perspicacity.
To this day i remain stunned as Nosti spun a detailed description of the Ley Lines running beneath the very center of the European Tribune, and how they too would erupt, coalescing power around the very spot from which the Peak Oil drop would be drilled.
Nostradamus sprang up, shaking the sand from his monstrous appendage as the seals quaked in fear and the hippy virgins began streaming down to the beach from Bolinas. "The days of ET are numbered," he chirped, "for the very statistics have turned against them."
The heavens thundered as he pointed his member at their membership, and i was rocked across the cliffs by the mighty, angry Winds at about 29 meters per second, well beyond cut-out speed, falling panting before the base as the fiery seas clutched at my legs.
The fire dissolved into a soft, luscious licking around the corners of my mouth. "Did you have another of those mysoginist Limantour Beach dreams, my love?"
I surrendered into the arms of my 26 year old lover, as she whispered, "Tell me again the part about the appendage and the volcano." "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." - Anaïs Nin
"So, you have water outside?" I said.
Seems he never got the hang of that "buy tube, drill hole, voila! Water in house" business.
But, hey, that wasn't Nostradamus!
Indeed. Nostradamus told me to offer you this.
Don't fight forces, use them R. Buckminster Fuller.
(You'll have to turn it up a bit) Don't fight forces, use them R. Buckminster Fuller.
and what the hecka hello!
And talking of pre-renaissance art (as I have been), and for those who cannae pick up videos, here are three that I remember from the National Gallery
Benozzo Gozzoli
The image is small, I know, but those haloes glow gold, and maybe it's just me but I get a strong indian-gods sense from the form, the colours.
Cosimo Tura
The lady with the dragons, the queen of berries, or--as Cosimo Tura titled it--"Primavera", or "Spring", or "An Allegorical Figure"
and finally:
Alesso Baldovinetti
The original looks fresher, fine lines, the motif on the sleeve...ach...the originals are worth a look, sez I! Don't fight forces, use them R. Buckminster Fuller.
