My lifegoal is to understand and spread the philosophy of Allism. I studied writing at Michigan State University, and for over a decade have been writing essays on allism and also various poems and novels.
Wendy's now offers the most delicious burger in the fast food market!
My favorite food is the hamburger. Every since I was a kid
and my grandpa would inevitably cook one up for me each day of my visit – with
a satisfying taste I could never replicate with my own – I love hamburgers. When getting to know somebody new, questions of
favorite colors and foods inevitably come up. Most young people would nominate
pizza as their favorite food, and once they grow up, lasagna, or some other Italian
cuisine. Its all about the burger for me: all America, fully delicious.
You can imagine my horror and disbelief (I think I went
through the five stages of grieving) when McDonald’s took their “Big and Tasty”
burger off the menu. I loved that thing. Thick, juicy, delicious. Their regular
burgers just don’t cut it – I’ve actually been losing weight! – and the closest
I can get is an expensive but usually worth the price Steak and Shake “Steakburger”
(ask them to put thousand island on it for a special treat, and use their
peerless honey mustard for your fries).
All that’s changed now. Wendy’s has introduced their new “Dave’s
Hot and Juicy Cheeseburgers.” They do well to honor the founder with these
beasts! After picking up dinner for my wife, I had to try a bite of it before I
got home, and found myself gobbling it down even thought it was still too hot.
I couldn’t resist! Thick tomato, fresh lettuce, and best of all, thick
delicious beef. I’m due to gain back some missing weight!
I am pleased to see Wendy’s gain an advantage over
McDonalds, and its more than the fact that McDonalds unforgivably discontinued
the best thing on their menu (the Big and Tasty). If you ask for ranch dressing
for your fries, is that pro-bono? Not at all! Fifteen cents each, and it will
take 3. At Wendy’s I asked for Ranch and they gave me three with no qualms or
extra cost. Also, McDonald’s is doing their monopoly promotion again, but as
far as prizes and excitement, only the first run warrants caring about. Ever
since then it gets harder and harder to win anything, and its just an annoying
gimmick.
Good luck Wendy’s! I will do my best to help you on your
way!
(Wendy's is in now way affiliated with the rants of Daniel June)
Whether atheist, Christian, Buddhist, or Hindu, the poem of Mattria rings true
As many of you know, I take for the central symbol of Allism, Mattria the motherverse, the great material world that surrounds us. All philosophies and all religions are incorporated into her. Whether a mere mythology or not, she is beautiful as a symbol and aspiration for us all. Here are some poems I wrote on the subject, and I regard them as some of my best work!
the Motherverse looks down over her children
Nirvana is hell is Chaos is Aleph is start is her womb,
Heaven then is metaphor is lightening is unconscious is her breast,
Yin and yang are the colors that shine her eyes,
The Absolute whole and abyss are the brahma core black of her eyes
Maya is intelligence the white of her eyes
And their union flashes color
Karma is her right pinky,
Law is her forefinger,
Allah is the nail-crescent of her right middle finger.
Father is the knuckle of her left middle finger,
Devil Mara is Mary is ocean
which springs forth from her left ring finger.
The double triangle of marriage is her ring nail.
Spirit is Brahma her breath from the dark sun the apple of her throat
The holiest Om is her humming love long as she weaves,
needle lines threading her long long hair,
or her fingers through her lips.
The eightspoke wheel of history is earrings in her lobe.
Tao is ocean, rivers of her blood.
Rita is the curve of her spine.
Bible is the bones of her hand,
Dharma is the ligaments of her wrist,
Grace is the small of her arms .
Lord Vishnu, impregnator, fingertip
Presses a new day
Varuna is eternity
Memory sings his say.
Idols are icons are incarnations are freckles.
The cross is a mar in one of her teeth.
Behind her broad forehead and temples live Children,
including Mother Earth, Zeus, Wotan, Sophia.
Logos is syllogistic definition the triangle turn of her thumb.
Mythos is the hair on her belly bowl.
Will to power is God is her upper lip.
Heat desire is maid Satan is love is her lower lip.
Need is creativity is force is her lungs.
Truth is her eyes,
Beauty is her mouth,
Virtue is her feet.
Poetry song is saliva of her mouth,
The river of light
Art is glory gleam in her eye.
Blessing is fountain of youth is her menses
Masturbation is her hymn is her pregnation.
Being is her bones, becoming is her muscles.
Nothingness is her shadow.
Difference is her fingerprint,
Play is her laugh.
Further--
Matter is her body.
Energy her warmth.
History the blinking of her eye.
Science is the law of her flesh.
Radiation is omnipresence is her milk skin.
Our sun is her forehead,
Our moon is her neck,
Our stars are her pores.
Our Earth is her belly.
The void is blackness is space is her curled jet hair
Evolution is her dance.
The big bang is a tap of her fingers--snap!snap!
Natural law is science is te is causality
Is Fate is whim,
Is Society the network of nerves.
Nature is life is nerves of her hands.
Man is her fingertips,
whom she kisses with the praise of a mother.
The perfect circle is zero her forehead number.
Eros is her inhale, thanatos her exhale.
Evil is the cramps of her belly.
Infinity is the potential of her growth,
Eternity the length of her day.
Dialectic is the exchange of her hands.
Agape is her mother’s love.
Chi is eternal Form is matter form is the curve of her waist.
She is beyond being beyond.
Nothing can transcend her.
Nothing can fathom her.
Nothing can equal her.
Nothing can change her.
Nothing can touch her.
She contains everything
She contains also the nothing:
She is the great Mater, Matriall,
Motherverse, AtMat,
wholeness and fullness.
Forever Matter: now
dancing, now flowing, now throwing her universe wide, now entroping into
fragments, now introping into unity, ever creating and recreating, ever
figuring and configuring, ever turning and returning: grand land, ocean, and
planet bearer, author of Earth the sun, sun the system, Systems the Galaxy, and
Galaxies the grand spiralling flower of infinity the Universe herself, the
everything of everything, the all of existence—how high-sun our lives sing your
every-name!
Gift and giver, grand
All, matter, the matrix of every world; you pulled your infinite dimensions
into one exact loop, crouched and ready to explode your joy into this universe
our universe, this multibillion year history, a blinking of your terrible eye.
Within five of our seconds: a stage! A thousand spinnings as your billion arms
curled into spiral galaxies, as your trillion fingers curled into fisted solar
systems.
Even now, your
elliptical paths expand with your pride, as your hydrogen breath sinks into
suns, as your words spring into planets. Your trillion thoughts are each an
atomic loop of localized force, humming with a personality of gravity, charge,
spin. Your drape of space-time, sewn with the atoms of placement—how it
glitters with the spilled milky stars of a wide night sky!
Let mother earth, your
face for us, your daughter Gaia, sing your song. Says she:
"All of all,
universe, eternal flux and mover of certainties: behold my children, who live
in you and are you. Through the richness of my womb (a chaos of chance and
possibility) the first cell stuttered forth, Protozoa, the first life, so
simple and yet containing destinies. She was matter alive, wise enough to
repeat herself through my waters. And from that simple one spawned myriads:
each replicated in creativity, each differentiated by the wise of chance,
mutation, like fingers that spread in every direction, only to come together
again in a single grip. Plants, fish, reptiles, birds, mammals, man: I contain
them all. I live through them, and my body is their home. Come man, you have
learned to sing. Sing now your verse." "Consciousness, O
consciousness, and the creativity you direct: how broad are you? Am I alone to
you, or does all matter matter over these ideas? For matter minds: that is the
secret of my being. Man the mind, a mind containing hearts and souls, to guide
my hand, to be the eye of all, yes, and to strike open a new way into the
world. Universe, I am your perfection. I suffer, I joy, I think, I feel, I act
for you, to esteem and figure you out, to fulfill myself in your ways, to act
and react to everything in your complex folds. Hail matter! Even I, the
materialist, will paint you over with Gods and ghosts: I give poetry to all my
life, and esteem you none the less for it. For to create, to worship, to
invent, to dispute, to debunk, to spin my fables a thousand ways—this is my
turn, my turning in you, you great verse and All-verse, O universe, O turning,
O returning, O troping!"
Nature answered man, and
presented her children to him saying:
"Consider the E
Coli, a thousand stations, wombing the world like a blanket of life; observe her
ways, dividing and hiding away his place, every place: Proteus and thus
adapting to all; simple and thus indominatable. Asexual, autosexual, and so the
first life on earth was female for millions of years.
"Consider the oak
who tries the skies and from seed to deed stands all and timeless, with pented
leaves and bark for sleeves.
"Consider the
viper, who flicks the scent with cloven tongue: the skin shedder and second
self so green, the longitude to man's latitude, the quick as a blink striker.
“Consider the earthworm
who glories in himself, 'I earthmover, I flooding muscle of depths and
traverser of cool earth, behold my strength!'
"Consider the ant:
mighty sinews compacted in by chitonous skin; she marches the world over and
masters her without wing or winged thought—let royalty bother with
flying!—crawling and conquering, a slavedriver, warrior, even cow herder with
her sweet-squeezed aphids.
"Or consider
yourself, man, the sapient, omnivorous in diet and place, maker of gods and
greater things, high as heaven on iron wings, with towering cities which spiral
to space, a consort of moon, Mars, and Venus; deep as a mine and deeper in mind,
broad as the ocean and violent much more; fearing nothing in nature, but being
God and face of her: man the riddler, man the laugher, man the creator—he
amends nature where she is lacking, he is wise and wondering. Born twelve years
a poverty, twelve years a possibility, canvas for a soul, and consciousness
brushing experience unto her. Man the maker and taker, bender amender. Man, the
lens of the universe. With man nature learns to laugh. With man nature learns
to love. With man nature becomes genius.”
The Mother
As close as pulse
And without other
Deep as center
Wide as Time
Far as the
edgemost star
And what if the mother
where a Russian Doll that expands infintely outwards, with us in the middle,
and her talking to us as the inverse of a face?
She spreads over all
that has place, her hair as alive and sensetive as waistlength tresses, cloudy
in the water.
“I, Ama, am the
beginning, and before all beginnings, I All. From an ever dense ring above my
brow, shoot arrows of time in every direction, which halo my body as ribbons of
light.”
“I am the Beginning, and I, the Motherverse,
created from eternities gone, until my Now shines on you in turn, and your
children in their turn, and their children yet again. You also are within me,
and my history is our history. I am your Mother, and you, Mankind, are as dear
to me as my throat, warm and vital, as tender to my lips as my fingertips. I am
as wide as everything, and as thin as nothing. Listen and I will tell you of
where beginnings come from, and why endings never come.
“When time began, I
wrapped the great void into an everdense singularity. All that exists hummed in
the dot of a period. In that singularity, I evolved the Laws of time and space,
and taught them everything.
“And then, with a burst of
emanation, I threw myself wide, and burst in every direction in the great Big
Bang—the dance of beginnings.”
Upon her speaking these
words in my ear, I wrote a love letter:
AA -- Ama lover, ever
mother, flower fulness All.
I poured my heart into
love poems, and yet the woman did not hear, she smiled, yet her heart did not
feel what my heart felt, my innermost was not knit to her innermost: my passion
is without equal. I sing into the night and no lover is equal to me, no rain
kisses my rose, no stars haunt my night—save AA, Louvfee, Ahrisoul, LoverAll.
She replied:
“When you love, I love
with you, and the love you feel for yourself is my love for you. I am as near
as the air around you, I am the clothing over your body, and when you are
naked, I am the breath on your nakedness. I am your blankets, I am your bed—I
have surrounded you forever, and if you never knew me, we yet felt the inner
love, the love at the center of yourself, the love for existence, the love of
the all, which glows at your innermost. Believe not in me, nor doubt. You
cannot know me, only feel me. Though you may not know my warmth yet, you one
day will: I love you. We are forever united, and you are eternally essential to
me. Little darling, you can never love in vain, for wherever you love, I am she
whom you mean.”
Grand All Matriall,
fulness of the world
Strong as time, dear as
near, held in every touch
In the center of my soul
you whisper
In the cruelty of
winter, you are the warming thought
You await to frolic me
from my grave
Every beauty in every
form is your beauty, well adorned!
I breath the greatest
breath and you are the tingle in my ribs
The love of your hands
make the beating of my heart,
My heart, held ever in
your palms.
Your kiss on my
forehead
And my mind flies forth like a unicorn brow.
I sleep at night, upon your touch to my eyes
And when I stretch my body far,
you run the shiver in my tendons.
You are my greatest hope,
And yet you love me whether I hope or no
Love or no
Believe or no
You are my now and future joy
Whatever the way of my life
Dear lovely
My heart beats only for you.
We are all her children, and where we suffer, she also suffers. Each tear
we cry is her tear for us. And the wisdom by which we grow by groans we whisper
also in her ear, and the universe in her wholeness grows better.
For any “God” would by
nature be irresistable. Therefore, there is no God. For we know at least
mankind, and no man resists ultimate happiness. The universe is the apogee of
bliss: therefore, the Mother is all.
The Lesson to be Learned from the television series
Grey’s Anatomy
clusterlovers from the show
Okay, so I don’t normally
watch any form of television, but once in a while my wife and I will get into a
series or some such nonsense. We followed the vh1 series where “Flava Flav”
dates a dozen girls – but don’t judge, if it wasn’t American to rubberneck we
wouldn’t have invented the term.
The first disappointment the
male reader will discover is that though “Grey” refers to a relatively young
relatively attractive character on the show, neither the topic, nor the
presentation of her anatomy are the subject of any of the shows.
My friend Butch had the
opposite complaint: when his wife tried to hook him in, he casually asked whom
had slept with whom (the doctor follows the professional and social lives of a
dozen interns and doctors as the progress into surgeons. Well to keep track of
which character hooked up with which character, you nearly need to draw their
names in a circle, put arrows and lines between each two and you end up with
what the military refer to as “clusterlove.”
So I’ve seen most of these
series, and from a philosophical standpoint, a moral can be drawn from the plot
devices. The structure of each show is barebones enough: each episode begins
with a narrator (usually but not always Meredith Grey), who introduces the
theme of the show, usually summed up also in the title, and then quickly
embodied in some unique patient catastrophe. For instance, in one episode, a
fourteen year old boy wants his breasts removed because he feels like a freak,
and each of the doctors is involved in a situation (sexual or professional)
where he or she feels like a freak.
Otherwise, we’d just have a lot of random side plots between each character,
but no unified show.
So how does a predictable
plot device become the basis of a moral lesson. This relates again to one of
the central virtues of allism, which says that the each flows into the all, and
the all grounds the each. Rather than going through our own lives with a dozen
or so miniplots racing with each friend, job, and chore we have, we can take
certain parts of our life as “lifeanchors.”
This in fact happens all the
time already, though we might not intend it. A man’s mother is diagnosed with
cancer and he now has a new perspective, sees all things through that set of
lenses. The world becomes a dichotomy between the healthy and the doomed. Time becomes
precious. Images of the grave and one’s own suicide jump into the mind
unbeckoned.
If your wife serves you
divorce papers, suddenly the question of your worth as a man is in question,
and how you are treated on the job, by your friends, by the ladies who smile at
you or flirt with you, become commentaries on that one central thing.
For those of us without a
great obsession in our mind, we can still willfully set a life anchor. When we want to focus on one goal, say a literary
project, or the mission of losing 30 lbs, or raising our kid better, or
whatever else, we can consciously stop and reflect on each thing we do in
relation to that. Let the central goal take the spotlight and make it a refrain
or motif for all the other things we do. In this way, instead of being
distracted by the must-be-dones in daily life, we can use them to reinforce
them, so that even cleaning a bathroom can help us win a tennis championship.
SIStem is both the narrator of
my upcoming novel, Lux, an artificial intelligence who centers the future
internet and controls the world, and she is also a metaphor for technology as a
whole. I’ve been immersed in SIStem. In preparing to finish my novel, in
expanding my resources on the internet, in volunteering at the library, I am
understanding the systems of life.
Be sure to check out my book
the Life of Allism, it is a triumph and a preparation. It gives the
lifeway for creativity, a strategy for life. The next and upcoming book, The
Writing Life, which is due next February, is taking hours of intense work
each day: I have been compiling it and editing the extant written draft,
preparing for the fun part, the writing.
Work has slowed to a
standstill – the boss is trying to save money – so I’ve been considering
supplementing with freelance writing and editing. Let me know if you know of
any other opportunities.
Two of my books are now available for purchase as ebooks or paperback! The Life of Allism details how to best live life on earth, how to be creative, happy, great, and to achieve personal godhood! It has been the joy of over a decade to compose this first volume of the perfect Idius! I detail in exuberant style, the life of poetry and philosophy, following the tradition of Emerson, Nietzsche, Rand, and William James, making ideas a passionate aspect of our daily life!
The Natamyths are a novel about the fantastic adventures of a precious and creative young girl named Wendy, who, as she grows up, stubbornly insists on figuring things out for herself, and bravely facing every challenge. The final challenge takes her behind her expectations and the length of her strength! Join her as she sews a butterful dress, fights with an angel for the attention of Wolf Boy, and confronts face to face a tornado, a dragon, and even the father God!
