Wow... its friday night

...and i am perfectly content to sit here and write this one thought... (is there something wrong with that?) hehe ;) soooo.. the point of this is..... i think everyone should question things the way ergo does... thats all... Peace!

Epistomology

The Philosophy of Knowledge

note to self- investigate further.

WoW! HAHAHAHA...okay enought of this time to go to the Caf for dinner before this gets out of hand

What Your Underwear Says About You

When you're bad, you're very bad. And when you're good, you're still trouble! You're sexy, in that pinup girl, tease sort of way.

The Underwear Oracle

Hahaha!

Your Kissing Purity Score: 83% Pure

You've hardly ever been kissed But the kisses you've given are very missed

Kissing Purity Test

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance. Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it. In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Hmmmmmmm... maybe...

Your Blogging Type Is Thoughtful and Considerate

You're a well liked, though underrated, blogger.You have a heart of gold, and are likely to blog for a cause.You're a peaceful blogger - no drama for you!A good listener and friend, you tend to leave thoughtful comments for others.

What's" Your Blogging Personality?

Supposedly....

You have a passion for everything - including sleeping (hmm, true). Outgoing and brash, you tend to still shock those who know you well (brash is totally wrong, shock? no, surprise, yes). You tend to be selfish (true). You are the most likely type to hog the covers (def. true). You gravitate toward comfort and don't like extreme situations (I actually don't mind extreme situations and in fact i much prefer the extreme to anything in between, and I really don't mind typically "uncomfortable" situations).

This is pretty true, actually

You are a Self-Discoverer

You're not religious, but you've created your own kind of spirituality.Introspective and thoughtful, you tend to look inward for the divine.You are distrusting of all forms of organized religion.You especially dislike religious gurus and leaders, who you feel are charlatans.

What's" Your Religious Philosophy?

Presence, cont'd

The calm, cool, familiar darkness has settled back into the cave-like lab.
"Mr. Dempsey?"
He turns from the counter to face the woman, shifting, out of place in the doorway there.
"Is there way maybe you do something for me, Senor?"
"What do you mean?"
She gently pushes a small boy out from behind her.
"El hijo de mi hermanita. Manuel. His mother. She... You watch Manuel today." Her statement carries a gentle authority, such that no questions arise in Ash's mind. He looks down at Manuel, whose large brown eyes are shining and placid. He wears a white shirt lined with faded red strips. He wears a black backpack, looking deflated; more than half the length of his body. His right hand is clenched tightly in a fist.
"How long do you need me?"

Ash is strangely calm.

I can smell Fall in the air

which i love, hey! and at least its not spring and all that twitterpation, in love crap that goes on in spring, ugh! sickening! but fall just is fall, it doesn't expect anything of you except that you take it in and breath it fully in all its quiet swirling falling colors

I love peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches!

Presence, cont'd

Trish is lying on the black tiles of her apartment kitchen, staring up through the skylight. For almost two days she hasen't moved. Her face is made of smooth hard clay, with a surging ocean behind it, wanton to burst through the wall, to loosen and shatter her face. If she let it, this river of tears would flood over her body, eventually drying swirling salt formations on her skin, vague white sand on the desert floor of her stomach and legs. Her clay face is a Jewish one. At once vibrantly pale and dark, harshly beautiful, like every movement she makes, like a desert sandstorm. A small fissure breaks in her smooth cheek. The crack spreads in small spidery lines, and the clay mask breaks; the salty deluge shattering the wall. She thinks "and they went down into the depths of the mighty waters... and then the Egyptians got fucking drowned... the Egyptians are the ones supposed to drown, Godamnit!" One side chants, Thy way was in the sea, they echo, Thy paths in the great waters." She sits up suddenly, screams "By the hand of Moses and Aaron? Say it, you fuckheads! By the hand of Moses and Aaron!" She pulls her self up against the counter, crazed, a glistening fire in her eyes. She picks up a glass jar. "Where the fuck is Moses now? Ready to save the fuckin chosen people?" She thrashes it against the wall. Whispers, "If not Moses, who?"

Kerouac Quotes

“Whatever you feel, that’s the way jazz musicians do it. What (he) also knew was that...people like Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie were skilled, crafted musicians. This didn’t just come out of a whim.”
Kerouac scholar, David Brinkley

“His ideal was not to display his literary skill, but to have a conversation with the reader.”
Jazz musician, David Amram

IMing Aquinas, Republished

Ink-Blood21:01: Hey!
AngelicDoctah21:01: In and through Our Blessed Lord Jesu, I greet you.
Ink-Blood21:01: Como estai Fra Tomaso?
AngelicDoctah21:02: I pray you are well in your body-soul composite : )
Ink-Blood21:02: Hahaha, thank you. Listen, I have some things I really, really, really want to ask you about lately. It kindof annoys me that you are dead: ha! ; ) jk But anyways, I can't complain. At least we can still communicate!! yeay!
AngelicDoctah21:02: Any hour, I am here.
Ink-Blood21:02: lol, yup. Well, there's been alotta talk about you. Its been goin on for say like the past, uh, I dunno 1000 years or something. hell i know ppl with 'THOMIST' license plates!?!?! yer famous! LOL haha if that happened with my name it's be--'SOPHIST'--woohoo!
Angelic Doctah21:03: Haha, yes, well maybe they should say 'DUMOXIST'. Any reference to me that inspires admiration is entirely due to awe inspired by reflections bestowed of His infinite perfections. There is nothing desirable to be seen in me unless it was in pertinence and relation to Him, or if it led the mind to greater apprehension of Him, knowledge of Him.
Ink-Blood21:03: Yeah, we've got, like, everyone writing about you, Meister Eckhart, Voltaire, Rutler, John Paul II-Do you wanna know what Voltaire says about you ...? Listen to this- "...after the adventure (!) of the Crusade, a thousand schoolmen arose ... the subtil docter, the seraphic doctor, the angelic doctor, etc. (that is definetely 1000 schoolmen) who were all very sure that they (emphasis may suggest that Voltaire subtlely portrays each theologian as writing only from a personal, subjective idea of truth. He is here writing about differing accounts of the soul of man in the history of philosophy) [each] had a very clear and distinct idea of the soul, and yet they wrote in such a manner that one would conclude they were resolved no-one should understand a word in their writings." Oh pleeease. Its like Voltaire's saying: Look! All these different writers! So many! And they all had different ideas! Naturally it must be that none of them know what they're talking about and, ipso facto, only idiots believe in objective truth, especially since they actually have no clue as to what's being taught/written! Ha. Personally I think he probably just had ADD like I do and couldn't focus on the Summa. JK - but I mean, come one-the guy is totally bashing you (particulary in the context of the whole work: Letter XIII, On Mr. Locke). But, dang, we should call Voltaire the Subtil Doctor, hahaha, ttyl duns scotus! But um, what else was i gonna say? I forget.
AngelicDoctah21:06: Yes, it would seem that Voltaire is not only accusing me, but any Theologian who, in progression of time and grace, is brought into the light of deeper understanding, and hence sounds momentarily to be contradicting his predeccesors. Perhaps Voltaire did not realize that what seemed like distinct ideas were usually developments in common ideas. For theology is the science of God, and ones knowledge and understanding of it developes and grows, as in any other science. (It is self-evident that in every science knowledge and understanding deepens)
Ink-Blood21:08: Not self-evident to Voltaire I guess. Or maybe it would have been if they had Ritalin back then! lol, Yeah, I bet he just had a chemical imbalance. Too bad the biological science back then sucked. HAHAHA Can't you see the mediaeval advertisement for Ritalin? "Complete your knowledge of God! Read the entire Summa Theologica with aid from newly developed drug. (Side affects may include insanity and possibly death) Hey! You've survived the Black Death~ you can take on a little white piiill!"
AngelicDoctah21:09: Well, perhaps Voltaire choose not to see what would have been self-evident. Evidence for any discovery is usually something painfully sought after, bonum arduum. This does not imply that the truth uncovered is the mind's construction in order to "prove" objective truth. Simply because a tenet of reality is hard to see or understand does not mean it is not still there, and true. You may find an example of this in Quantum Physics, which informs you of the existence of certain properties which no ordinary man had ever seen before. The scholar of science had to seek after that deeper knowledge and discovered that these properties existed before our knowledge of them, that they are prior in existence to our knowledge of them. Also, I suggest to your consideration that it is foolish to insinuate the credibility of mediaeval sciences as null. The original computer could be considered a matter for laughter, if one considers its immense size and impracticality. But this immensity only becomes laughable when one looks at it in proportion to its posterity, which owes its existence to the former. I also put forth that to say one has "complete knowledge of God" would imply that one has full knowledge of the infinite - impossible for a finite creature. There is always more of God to be known. As God is the One Supreme Reality, we must always be coming to a heightened knowledge of that reality. And as to Voltaire's chemical or mental imbalances I cannot comment.
Ink-Blood21:12: riiiight right i know, know. so this is my main deal... the whole question if God created everything how come there is evil and how can he allow it, you know, blabla thats not my question, since you said that evil is a lacking of a due good not a thing created by God. BUT since you wrote the defin-itive book on evil i figure hear it from you... so if as you say, evil is not an is but an is not, i mean, if evil simply, as you say = a lack of a due good as in the case of an infant dying from SIDS, in which he should have lived a full life but never did, that infant dying is a lack of a due good, the good lacking being the LIFE which is gone, right???
AngelicDoctah21:12: Yes. That is how I understood evil.
Ink-Blood21:13: I do not dispute your definition. But I want to put a question to you. In every particular instance of evil one does not find SIMPLY a lacking of a good. There is always a particular good there which is NOT due to that particualr situation. This is why I had problems trying to understand your definition of evil in studying metaphysics and felt it needed further clarification. It seems to me that there is not simply a lack of life, but a presence of a disease not due to this infant, in its innocence and youth. This disease IS a reality. So I ask if evil is not simply a lack of a due good but a lacking alongside an un-due good? and in that I do not say that the disease is good but it is the particular atoms, or as with a cancer, the normal ordered cycle of cell depth becomes abnormal. These cells, good in themselves, come together in a structure in un-due position, so to speak, in disarray. So i'm sure you agree that in the lack of order--there is not simply a lack of order but a presence of a misplaced good, existent thing. It is not an empty space alone but a space in which something good is there which is not meant to be there. Int the case of the tsunami, no-one would conclude that water is evil. Water exists! but is was there, present in a "bad" un-due way! The water in formation of a tsunami hence is water present in a place it should not be (if you say evil is the lacking of water on dry land- that is not the fullness of the present reality). I do not disaree with you entirely. I simply suggest that evil is both a lacking and a presence, not solely a lacking.
2005 SM

What is it?

Logos Spermaticas.

The Seeds of the Word.


HHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

( lots of questions)

Side of the HIghway

As much as I hate to admit it, life is really depressing sometimes. And there isin't anything you can do when it hits you, cuz it really sneaks up so fast to suffocate you. Like getting caught in a sudden torrential downpour on the highway, all you can do is pull over to the side of the road and wait it out, til you can see the road ahead of you again.

Brooke

"There's something you must do here that no one else can do."

Steubie

so i take a moment now to pause and offer my reflections, so far, on steubie U ( ps i just love being a nerd)

i feel relaxed and refreshed and invigorated and relieved all in one breath of the air around here more so then any other place ( how ironic considering the pollution levels LOL) what i want is integration and i don't know yet if i've found it here- or if pehaps i must achieve this most importantly within myself in order to find it in the world... the light by which we see in this world comes out from the soul of the observer - emerson... i tend to agree with this premise so far in my life... the way things are is either enlivened or destroyed by the amount of light we have within... but perhaps there's just a bit more light coming from without around here.. gently seeking to penetrate my being in a soft wave of sanctyfying grace- which is merely a synonym for Love...

Presence, cont'd

"Ash- I hafta ask... what is this?" She holds up a half-crumpled newspaper, forcing a casual stance, wearing only Ash's big Boston Marathon t-shirt.
"An advertisement for love." His voice is cold, blunt, without a second's hesitation. He exhales from a long drag, relaxed. He sees her lose her balance from the corner of his eye and glares back towards the window. The silence is deafening and stiff. He feels her moistening stare.
"Ten years I thought you loved me." Her voice is barely there.
"Did I say that?"
"You know you barely speak in words, Ash."
"You're right."
"So I'm not enough."
"You're enough."
"Then what else are you looking for? Damnit Ash! What the Hell are you asking from me? Don't you know that I love you?"
"You don't know how to love Trish. And neither do I."
******

The Island

Yesterday in between classes Holly and I sat under the shade of the trees in the small garden-like courtyard about which mulled students going to and from class...she and I have a habit of finding a secret garden wherever we go... the people and lulling voices like slow undulations of waves around our little island as I lay down under the tree and stared up through the filtered green-lit leaves and little shafts of pure light through caterpillar-eaten circles I felt as if no one could see me in our little island of lit up green light with clear walls and even if they did it was no consequence to me as i lay in the grass with dirt in my hair and sun on my eyelids...the sun is like medicine to the soul and i said to holly some scientist person would disregards this as some rocess of seratonin release blablablablablablabla chemical in blood stream blablablablablabl vitamin D blablablabla so what its still a miracle she says...




What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.

The Presence of all Colors

He leans forward and glares down at the miniscule advertisement. There it is, blatant with his name:

Ash Dempsey. Male. Microbiologist/assistant forensic scientist. Twenty nine. Enjoys: Nothing and everything. Seeks: No one and someone. Hobbies: To find what it means to live and to be alive.

He stares longer. The black words suddenly remove themselves from their white backround and float up towards his face. Furiously he rips it in half, pushing it away like an air bag that grasps to save you and suffocate you in the same instant. "What the Hell was I thinking?" The two flights down to the corner drug store below his apartment are frustratingly long. The woman with the Asian face smiles roundly into a blur past him. "Jose!" he is breathless as the glass door raucously clashes shut behind him, startling the man behind the counter. "I need every copy of the Post!" Exhusted, Ash sits, brooding. Tiny paper particles flutter around him. He stares at the wall.
*****
Ash was sentimental about everything under the sun. He wasen't gay, but the majority had their suspicions. His name and slightly sophisticated manner diden't hurt the argument, either. Ashley Dempsey II, his given name, was a possession he clung to fiercely, the way an alcoholic grips a whiskey bottle, even for all the trouble it gives him.]

*****

"Turning thirty next Thursday." Sleepily mumbles into the phone, pressed sharply between his ear and the pillow.
"No shit. You think I could forget ? I've only known you ...what will it be- Oh! Ten years next Thursday!"
"You wish you could forget that day." Smug-faced he slowly falls onto his back. She ignores the gibe.
"Hey. Now you can read the Song of Songs, Ash!" Sarcastic enthusiasm flowing from a smooth voice fills up slowly in his head.
"Pardon?" A vague smile partially opens his lips.
"Song of Solomon, Canticle of Canticles, however you wanna call it- from the Old Testament, Ash."
"... and I, a delinquent Episcopalian who doesn't give a fuck for religion, am supposed to know what an educated, former Orthodox Jew knows?"
Whispery soft laughter now settles like fog in his head. He smiles fully.
She turns bitter. "According to the Rabbinical, Hebrew tradition, no one was permitted to study it until the age of thirty... way too risque for the 29 and under crowd."
More laughter from her, much harsher sounding this time.
"Fabulous. Really can't wait for that. But, hey, I have a lotta samples coming into the lab tomorrow."
Gazing with one eye into the long shaft of white light, in a long white lab jacket, Ash is suffocated by whiteness. The lab is filled up with light for once, the shades all drawn up by the short dark-skinned women by the windows. Damn women won't quit muttering to herself. Hears a slight clacking of beads. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros peccadores. Ahora en la hora de nuestra muerte. His free eye slowly slides over from the illumined blood sample to her vein-laced, muscular hand, moving synchronously in circles over the glass, opaque with years of dust. The rythme of her movement, the clacking beads, and her warm-toned prayers have a sleepy, inoculous effect on Ash's blood. Suddenly a patch of glass bursts free like a white flame. Imposing, it follows a path, clashing directly on Ash's face. He exhales angry damnations. The woman turns her wizened native face to his. Her knowing smile turns his stomach. The white coats clings to the linoleum and she watches his back disappear behind the door.
The guitar yields gently to Ash's firm fingers. Her long hair is soft over his crossed-legs. He sings a bit."Oh I watch you there through the window,

And I stare at you,

You wear nothing but you wear it so well..." His voice is as faint and warm as her sleeping breath.

Coming back to life

Wow! I just got out of Sunday Mass.
I remember it now!

During the Gloria I felt the slow rising inside myself and let myself raise my hands once again... I have not raised my hands during the Gloria in over 2 years and now I know, almost, who I am again...
you see...
I am not just my body...

I am my body-soul union... and to raise one's hands to God is to unite that spiritual reality of prayer ( defined by the cathechism as a raising of the heart and mind to God) and NOW-> to JOIN that reality with ones BODY... and raise also my hands... reflecting the groanings of the soul... and all elements of personhood have become more it seems.

love combines heart mind body soul all RAISED UP in union to The Infinite Love.

Quotes

Poetry is that which helps us live. - Wallace Stevens

If the Eucharist is just a symbol- to Hell with it. Flannery O'Connor

Platonic Obssession? (...is there such a thing?)

Oh boy... Holly and I's theory has been challenged! And I think I'll hafto lay down my weapons . . . for once! Last semester she and I were "obsessed" with a guy friend of ours... we kept talking about him, his personality, mode of discussion, intensityblahblah blah...Holly turned to me as we walked past Saint Francis guys dorm at Christendom ( wow! i just realized that i remeber exactly where this theory was conceived!).

"Soph! Are we obsessed?" ( I can even hear the descending vocal tone of her voice inflection) without even thinking i said right back:

"yes! . . . but its Platonic obsession!"

...to which we broke out laughing ( aaaaaah... risibility what an intriguing thing, lol)

We were perfectly content to leave our feeling of him at that- and it made perfect sense to us logically... haha! I suppose we thought in our heads that we were obssessed with him objectively, that in theory we would be head over heels but in reality we were just apprehending the metaphysical and physical reality and recognizing it as ... a good thing... ')

But,

last night,

my roomate Jenny Hoffman and Dan disputed the Platonic Obsession Theory.

"Nothing is Platonic." - Dan (in the male-female context)

"If there's nothing there- one of you is gay." - Jenny

I submit this for consideration... but make no final judgement at this time...
')


[ Oh yeah and another funny thing--- we had music on and 50 cent's just a little bit song came on...

" What I like about this song is that its all about moderation." - Dan

it was quite funny, in fact]

The Story begins

Yes. I now have 6 weeks to formulate a short story for my Creative Writing class- and the main conflict by tomorrow! HOw interesting, especially considering I have not sucessfullly finished a short story since 7th grade... this is definetely exiciting me alot-- I am scared excited nervous and by the way, have been sortof floating around since the sun came out this Sunday...