Mexicanismo Posmodernista

Feb25

In the Pre-Columbian and pre-patriarchal text above, the “Tía” clearly plays a radicalizing role in the context of narco-anarchy on the frontier. There is an intensification of the polarizing dynamic between striated regimentation in the person of the narrator who attempts to name, itemize, and commodify garments and the Tía herself who, as an empowered change agent, uses her radical femininity to challenge the patriarchy and the dominant hegemony of machismo within the outlaw context of narcotrafficking.

See Chandler on Barthes and the garment system:

1. She selects signs from three paradigms (i.e. sets of possible signs – upper body garments, lower body garments, and footwear). Each paradigm contains a possible set of pieces from which she can choose only one. From the upper-body-garment paradigm (including blouses, tee-shirts, tunics, sweaters), she selects one. These items share a similar structure, function, and/or other attribute with others in the set: they are related to one another on the basis of similarity. She further selects items related by similarity from the lower-body-garment and footwear paradigms. A socially defined, shared classification system or code shapes her selections.

2. She combines the selected signs through rules (i.e., tee-shirts go with sandals, not high heels), sending a message through the ensemble – the syntagm. Selection requires her to perceive similarity and opposition among signs within the set (the paradigm), classifying them as items having the same function or structure, only one of which she needs. She can substitute, or select, a blouse for the tee-shirt – conveying a different message.

http://users.aber.ac.uk/dgc/Documents/S4B/sem03.html

Intl. Pipe Smoking Day 2013

Feb21

pipering1

February 20th is International Pipe-Smoking Day–
but you knew that already.

I celebrated by smoking a generous bowl of “Shipwreck Blend” from this fine tobacconist in Minneapolis, a gift from my brother.

After lighting up, I swam away from the ruined vessel as it broke apart on the reef, borne on currents of joyful desperation for over 40 minutes while, once again, my most noble ideals vanished into thin air around me.
Luckily, the bowl was well packed and the pounding surf was not able to separate me from my lifeline, which smoldered on in the midst of the cataclysm. This was fortuitous, since I had only two matches and a third re-light could have meant a watery grave…

Poetry by J.S Bach and Old Skool Gangsta rap from Ralph Erskine helped me to focus and persevere as I floated to safety.

What did you do on this auspicious evening of global brotherhood and kapnismology?

Kapnis something

A Lost Soul on Judgement Morning

Feb11

The last and dreadful day has come
The trumpet loudly sounds
The sleeping millions in the earth
Rise from the quaking ground!

O fearful sight! Where can I hide ?
What doleful wails I hear !
The moon turns now to bloody red,
The stars fall from their sphere !
The isles and mountains flee away,
The sun – it will not shine.
My eyes behold Christ Jesus come,
To judge the works of time !
No place to hide!

I care not now what people think
Or if they hear my cries.
My money and my pleasures, too,
Have vanished with my pride.
Down on my knees I fall, and then
Confessing Christ as “Lord of all” –
I have no stubborn, proud heart now,
O hear the Great Judge call!
Too late to pray!

My sins are trailing my poor soul Grunewald Resurrection
Up to the throne of God.
Why do they follow, even here?
They will not pass His Word !
With piercing look, He views my works,
There’s nothing I can hide.
Where is one of my earthly friends?
Come! Stand here by my side!
No, now I stand ALONE!

I glance at Him, the Righteous Judge,
He says, “Depart from Me”!
I drop into the fiery pit
For all ETERNITY!
God! Give me just ONE moment now
Of time! Please hear my cry!
(Despairing thought-
‘Twas I who chose To EVER, EVER DIE!)
No more hope!

A thousand tongues could ne’er describe
The anguish that I feel,
Too late, too late now to repent,
Hell fire is all too REAL!
Forever now while ages roll,
My soul shall scream and burn.
Though torment reigns, my mind is clear –
In life, God’s love I spurned.
Forever doomed!

No water here, no light, no rest,
No love, no joy, no friend,
No children dear, no cheering song,
No hope my fate will end.
Writhing in flames, pain racks my soul,
And piercing cries I hear.
My wretched soul God sees it not –
‘Tis more than I can bear! Forgotten eternally!

Dear friend, today a loving Lord
Would save you from this fate.
Come humbly now, accept His grace
Before it is too late!

Author unknown

courtesy of: e-menno.org

Dionysian Dithyramb

Feb10

“Be that as it may, Tragedy – as also Comedy – was at first mere improvisation.
The one originated with the authors of the Dithyramb,
the other with those of the phallic songs,
which are still in use in many of our cities.”
[Aristotle]

Dithyramb The cult came from the east.
No one knew where it originated.
Women left their homes by night and wandered in the mountains.
Men adopted feminine mannerisms.
Reflection yielded to participation.
The Classic moment passed as an unknown god gathered followers
in the groves of madness.
The youth were sure they were on the cutting edge of liberation.
The elders clucked and scolded as society unraveled.
A god of youth and frenzy subverted the order of the ancient days –
but they called it freedom in ecstasy.
The idol Dionysus reigned as the culture imploded.
And yet it took several generations –
and each successive generation was sure they were breaking with a useless past
and dancing, hypnotized, into a glorious future.

With the degeneration of the Classical period, new forms of music and rhythm rose to popularity as plebeian slave-values became widespread in a general reaction against the Patrician and administrative governing classes. The street musicians, often affecting the manner of the criminal underclass, sang popular airs to simple rhythmic accompaniment, often with prostitutes or priestesses dancing to attract passers-by. Such musicians were in abundance on feast days and during civic festivals, and the ribald content which was their staple, often inflamed certain sectors of the urban populace to moral outrage.

But that was long ago…