Glamour and the Ghost Cities of the Moon

Visible Origami – April 9, 2011

Dog Poet Transmitting…….

‘Dogs in the water are no match for a raccoon’.

I speak often about attractions and desires. I think the richest person in France is the lady who is the heir to the L’Oreal fortune. When you consider the commercial industry of glamour and all that it connects to, directly and indirectly, you’re looking at one of the biggest industries on the planet and it’s all about appearances. It’s all about altering and camouflaging appearances, actually.

Glamour is possibly one of the most insidious forces on Earth. Look at the things we glamorize. I don’t think I have to itemize. It’s one of the major hypnotics on the planet, along with money, power and fame. Glamour is intimately connected to all of them. The given purpose of cosmetics is to enhance beauty but its actual result is to obscure it.

 I don’t know a great deal about Steven Gaskin. I’ve never heard anything bad about him but I can only anticipate someone will tell me something (grin). That’s beside the point. He once made a comment about women. I can’t remember the actual quote. He said something to the effect that it is one of the saddest things on Earth to see a woman coming into her full glory and beauty, only to cover it up with cosmetics. I can’t say too much about this because it is a product of the times in which we live. One can’t really be blamed too harshly for giving in to such a significant power to some degree.

I try to be mindful of this force in my own life. I have no jewelry. I don’t wear a watch either, because I don’t care what time it is. I don’t use any ointments or unguents for my skin or make concessions to suppress my smell, which I leave to diet to regulate. I wear common and generally used clothing that I buy from EBay; blue jeans, types of shirts and I’ve got some rock and roll outfits for that kind of thing, which is about as rare as hen’s teeth these days. The only new clothes I ever buy are sneakers and socks. 

I note that there are people who can tell the brand label of clothing and measure people according to it. That amazes me. I note the near obsession that many people have with their appearance; the awful trauma of hair loss and the fear of aging, as if the currency of their being relied upon something that is going by the day. That’s by turns, tragic and amusing. I often think of Donald Trump’s hair. With all his money that was the best he could come up with?

I experience a keen sorrow when I see the things that women have to go through to make their way through the bombed out wasteland of contemporary culture. On psychedelics, it all looks like a cartoon. I watch the poses and postures and the mating games, cries for attention that go on all around me on a given day, as I make a brief trip to the store or into a larger town for one reason or another.

I was in Basel the other day. Basel is infamous for several reasons. The reader can find those out on their own, should they be curious. It’s been a glorious Spring here. I was walking along the Rhine into the main part of town and here and there I passed someone naked laying right out on the walkway. They could have positioned themselves better but maybe not, given what I intuit as their reasons for being there. You can find naked people for all sorts of reasons, once the weather permits it. A man walked by me with his shirt off, exposing his shaved and bronzed chest. He was in his fifties and extraordinarily attentive to any interest that might be shown.

I came into town and went to the library and afterwards I thought I would go to a Sushi restaurant that was on Barfusserplatz; the main drag for theaters, bars and sundry. I sat outside and then noticed a woman in her fifties, dressed up in a little girl’s party dress. She had a music box of some sort and was doing some of the worst, most awkward and comical ballet I’ve ever seen. You wanted to avert your eyes as if you were passing a roadside accident, unless you’re most people, with rubberneck syndrome.

On my way in I passed a 6 and a half foot transvestite, walking with a female companion. I’ve seen them done up to a T but this was another train wreck. Everything was surreal for me. I don’t go into large urban areas very often. What I noted was the concern for glamour everywhere and all of the shops that supported it. That was pretty much the majority of what there was, if you eliminate feeding zones. The urban Swiss can be a tad difficult in a lot of ways. Money rules the waters and the prices reflect that. Comfort and PC freedom are main areas of focus here. Should a few drops of rain fall, thousands of umbrellas go up and they DO NOT watch where they are going.

In Europe, sexual activity starts very early and they don’t make the hue and cry about it that they make in the US, where they’re also lowering the bar by the day, because of glamour. So, you tend to see a lot of teenagers with sullen faces. The force of glamour and the sexual attractive power that has generated it is possibly the most powerful force on Earth. It’s one of the perversions of this force that expresses itself in war and combat. Most things are some channeling, perversion or modification of this force. I can see that now more clearly than I’ve ever seen it in my life.

Something is happening to me, now that I’ve lost nearly all of my attractions. I’m beginning to see them for what they are. I can see the electronic nature of the male force and the magnetic attractive force of the female nature. I can also see the lies, busily at work, which are a ground zero essential to the interplay. Various forms of deception and seduction are at work all around. Sometimes you even see a form of love, in its present permutation of whatever passes for romance. I don’t mean to be cynical, because I’m not. What I see are a multitude of trapping devices; a certain relative ease going in and various degrees of difficulty getting out. When what is called Love, can be so quickly turned to anger and resentment, it’s not Love at all. It’s a glamorization of it.

Everyone is looking at themselves in the big store windows and that is their sole focus, except for the constant searching for interest in them. There’s such a controlling aspect to all of it, as if they were all contained within a limited field of programming. It fascinates me. With the falling away of attractions, I am noticing other things; the state of being for people of any particular age, the level of self obscuration. revealed in the attention of their eyes to given objects, the hunger and the way it keys on whatever is needed to satisfy it and all through the sequences and progressions is the glamour; the glamour of callow youth, the glamour of presentations in person and object and all of it taking place beneath the eternal skies, within a confined time zone that is the temporary reality, which is changing into something else as you are moving through it.

That’s not reality though. That’s what interposes itself between you and reality. It’s all serious business though. People believe in it and live their lives according to it. People lie and steal for it, die for it and kill for it. It’s possible, in a certain state of awareness, to see the whole spectacle as a progressive dance of death, among cob-webbing dreams. The princely settings at the tables of the privileged are filmed in dust. Corpses in rotting tuxedos and other ensembles sit there, engaged in animated conversation from some location on the moon. They think they’re here but they are on the moon. 

The sum total of the manufactured world’s offerings is… colorful rubbish. They’ve found up to fifty pounds of waste and more in people’s colons, whose diet is predominantly meat. I’ve read where the average carnivore has seven pounds of putrefying waste in their colon by the time they are fifty. Well, it’s all a matter of personal choice here and… we’re all about personal choice and freedom. True freedom does not result in bondage. That’s what happens when freedom is seen as license. Most people don’t have to worry about being enslaved by others. They’ve already done the job on themselves which, is how the other happens anyway. You become a slave when you cease to be your own master.

Glamour is a predator that sits like a Moray eel at the mouth of a cave in the coral or wherever. It’s surrounded by color and the Moray eel I’m talking about; glamour, has all sorts of attractive features to lure you close enough to snatch. Informed divers know about the dangers of the deep; sticking your hands in dark places and so on and so forth. There’s not much difference between the world you live in and the ocean. You can find parallels all day. One’s no less a dream world than the other and divers know what a dream world the ocean can be. Anyway, I’ve said enough for today. Good fortune to you all.

End Transmission…….

Graveyards of the Heart 


I I am a creator, by the grace of inspiration, in various media, by the grace of God, the love of whom, is the centerpiece of my life.