Stuck in China Again

The law is not just, it is just the law

Surrealism Is Not for Sale!"

The Gold of Time in the Time of Gold

If you think wearing this season's shoes will make you more attractive, or that paying a stranger for sexual contact will gratify your passions, then you will probably agree with the clueless New York Times journalist who summed up the impending auction of the contents of Andre Breton's Paris apartment at 42 rue Fontaine as "Surrealism for Sale, Straight from the Source." In this snide, dishonest article from mid-December 2002, the New World Order's "newspaper of record" predictably distorted and slandered Breton and the entire international surrealist movement, reducing them to the 5,500 "lots" of objects, books, photographs, manuscripts, and artworks scheduled to be sold this April to wealthy dealers, investors, and museum acquisition officers.The usual pack of grave-robbers expects the sale to top $40 million, but the pathetic bankruptcy of this enterprise should be obvious to those who know that surrealism can no more be bought and sold than can love, imagination, or freedom. The breaking-up of Breton's collection is deplorable on all counts, and indeed, a tragedy, but first and foremost it is a shameful and hostile act on the part of the French authorities….

I am studying the no longer unusual signifiers, and paying dim heed to signs of currency change and experiencing the shores of my private San Francisco - the building, the neighbors, the neighborhood, the secret garden one block from my home on Pine street that in Surreality connects across the hall, where Paul the deceased night cabbie lived and his roomate from Tonga, Johann now lives working 3 jobs and paying child support for 3 children.

Living at 42 rue Fontaine my times are those in all times of the social hypnosis:.

“The sweatshop system! It is hard to believe these infamous words could have been written,” even in English. Yes, even in English, it is unbelievable. But what sweat? Good Lord! It is impossible, after such a word, not to think of Gethsemane, not to think of Moses who wanted all Egypt to stream with blood in order to prefigure the Death Throes of the Son of God. Did He who took upon himself all imaginable sorrows and all unimagined sorrows then sweat blood after this fashion? The Bloody Sweat as a system! Jesus’s Bloody Sweat intended to be the silent partner of famines and massacres! … It might be thought that men have gone mad from having leaned over the edge of this gulf … “

Then Strindberg Night Owls.—The maggot in the apple doubtless imagines that the apple was grown for its sake, and that the world could not exist without apples. So we also imagine that science and art are certainly necessary. Swedenborg, in his description of another sphere, tells us how happy men can be without such luxuries. "They know nothing of sciences as we see them in our world, and wish to know nothing; they call them 'shadows,' and compare them with clouds which come between the sun and the spectator. This idea of the sciences they have derived from certain spirits who came from our earth and introduced themselves as those who had grown wise through science. These spirits from our earth who made this claim belonged to those who see wisdom in such things as are pure matters of memory, such as languages; in historical matters, which belong to the literary world; in bare experiences and terms, especially philosophical ones. Because these have not developed their faculty of reasoning through science, they have in their second life little power of perceiving the truth, for they see only in and by means of technical terms, which like hills and thick clouds.

Just about a year ago

I set out on the road from Odessa

Seekin' my fame and fortune

Lookin' for a pot of gold

Things got bad and things got worse

I guess you will know the tune

Oh Lord, stuck in China again

Rode in on the Red Eye

I'll be walkin' out if I go

I was just passin' through

Must be seven months or more

Ran out of time, got no money

One call this afternoon and now

Oh Lord, stuck in China Láogǎi can't git out agin