Anton Webern was born on the third of December 1883 in Vienna. He was a late bloomer who found music through a cello during public school. His father did not accept his son’s musical fate, but after much pressure and persuasion Webern studied music at the University of Vienna. He graduated with a Ph.D. at the age of 23. Webern was a pioneer in the serial or twelve-tone method of composition and is considered a musical genius, although he was reported very distraught most of his life.
For most of his existence Webern was a conductor in various concert halls for different orchestras around Europe. He wrote of his urge to refrain from conducting orchestras, claiming it was depressing and it was not the music he wanted to present as his. He spent his free time composing, creating masterpieces such as “In Gottes Namen aufstehn” and “Fahr hin, o Seel.” His most famous work was perhaps his Symphony Opus 21.
This work made him a favorite to many fellows across Europe and even the most powerful man on the mainland was a great fan. Adolf Hitler himself adored Webern, he felt admiration and power while listening to his conducting. This made Webern a star in Germany, although Webern had very religious work throughout his life and did not agree with the principles of the Nazi Party.
World War Two played a large part in the life of Anton Webern. He had one son, who he adored more than anything in the world. His son was drafted in the Nazi military and killed in a troop train headed for the Eastern Front. He was unable to compose after this and fell into another deep depression. When the war ended in 1945 he felt as if a curse had been lifted and began to write the beginning sketches of what would become later works. Tragically he was never able to write his final songs and was mistakenly killed in a field by an American soldier just weeks after the war was ended, in 1945.
So look him up. He wrote fantastic symphonies.
11.11.09
“Learning the game of power requires a certain way of looking at the world, a shifting of perspective.”
Robert Green – The 48 Laws of Power
I fear that this idea is easily transferable to all education. It quickly explains that learning is a shift in perspective. It is smart and broad, implying a variety of things including an unwritten tone sales pitch for the ideas that follow.
I intend to use this reference to explain that I found the value in learning as much as I could. When I was prescribed psychiatric medicine I lost the world that surrounded me. There was very little introspection in those days. I slept too much and went days without music and weeks without writing my ideas. I do not intend to blame the medication for past woes. These mistakes were mine. Members of my circle decided that I was going in a different, spacey and artistic direction and decided to be what they wanted. This hurt, but I learned later that we had been friends the whole time.
When I was stressed I took a pill. When I wanted to sleep I took a pill. When I woke up I took a different pill. Before I drank, I took a pill as so the other three would not make me an antisocial lightweight.
These must have been classified as depressants. They make me slow moving and paranoid. They were there to make cure me of this affliction but I don’t remember having that one any time before or after the use of psychiatric medicine. Either way, at the time I was too paranoid. I feared nuclear war caused by a conflict involving the USA. I was having dreams that my floor was filled with hornets and if I were to step over the edge of my bed I would step on them, though they refused to fly. I tried to avoid tall buildings for the chance occurrence of an out of place earthquake could bring them down. I do not remember ever being so afraid of the devil.
But I don’t want to hold any grudge against the people who prescribed me this medicine. They didn’t realize that I had been aware of my own situation and should have devised a plan to keep it to myself.
It was that people with mechanical minds don’t know much about Niberu, a planet that is said to show up every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS. When they hear of this legend they consider Independence Day, hope that it is not that technology, chuckle quietly and get back to work.
People like me wonder if it is just a phenomenon. Perhaps legend has it that every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS both Alexander Graham Bell and Walter (?) Gray will invent the telephone. Maybe it has been that long since the invention of steel. (bronze age, iron etc…) We have just gone through a series of incredibly fast technological developments.
Robots have gone from science fiction to every day use in 40 years. Yet the Internet is filled with tales of a mystical planet that crosses our path in an odd elongated orbit every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS. Is this similar the personification of lightning by our ancestors? What wonders will this planet of giants shower us with?
One can find out predictions by looking into a sort of mirror that appears to be filled with webs. When looking closer one can read that by using a certain attachment a person can see their reflection. Magic is the new age! Perhaps this time these chilly space giants will respect us and cure our ailments again.
The mystery is if it will occur before or after the apocalypse.
If you are unable to reach a computer, yet you have a debit or credit card, you can simply drive to the coffee shop and borrow theirs. Furthermore, if you are unable to find a car or Internet Café because you are on a deserted South Pacific island, you could fly to a region with resources set up by other people that give you access to these movies.
But I recommend learning in any field.
It is also important to read and watch creative works.
With this in mind and dissertating a video about the subject of Niberu, I rebut.
Perhaps this is simply a phenomenon, and certain people choose not to believe in irony. To lose track of this thought, is the study of irony somewhat like the study of creativity? They both seem indefinable.
Robert Green – The 48 Laws of Power
I fear that this idea is easily transferable to all education. It quickly explains that learning is a shift in perspective. It is smart and broad, implying a variety of things including an unwritten tone sales pitch for the ideas that follow.
I intend to use this reference to explain that I found the value in learning as much as I could. When I was prescribed psychiatric medicine I lost the world that surrounded me. There was very little introspection in those days. I slept too much and went days without music and weeks without writing my ideas. I do not intend to blame the medication for past woes. These mistakes were mine. Members of my circle decided that I was going in a different, spacey and artistic direction and decided to be what they wanted. This hurt, but I learned later that we had been friends the whole time.
When I was stressed I took a pill. When I wanted to sleep I took a pill. When I woke up I took a different pill. Before I drank, I took a pill as so the other three would not make me an antisocial lightweight.
These must have been classified as depressants. They make me slow moving and paranoid. They were there to make cure me of this affliction but I don’t remember having that one any time before or after the use of psychiatric medicine. Either way, at the time I was too paranoid. I feared nuclear war caused by a conflict involving the USA. I was having dreams that my floor was filled with hornets and if I were to step over the edge of my bed I would step on them, though they refused to fly. I tried to avoid tall buildings for the chance occurrence of an out of place earthquake could bring them down. I do not remember ever being so afraid of the devil.
But I don’t want to hold any grudge against the people who prescribed me this medicine. They didn’t realize that I had been aware of my own situation and should have devised a plan to keep it to myself.
It was that people with mechanical minds don’t know much about Niberu, a planet that is said to show up every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS. When they hear of this legend they consider Independence Day, hope that it is not that technology, chuckle quietly and get back to work.
People like me wonder if it is just a phenomenon. Perhaps legend has it that every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS both Alexander Graham Bell and Walter (?) Gray will invent the telephone. Maybe it has been that long since the invention of steel. (bronze age, iron etc…) We have just gone through a series of incredibly fast technological developments.
Robots have gone from science fiction to every day use in 40 years. Yet the Internet is filled with tales of a mystical planet that crosses our path in an odd elongated orbit every CERTAIN NUMBER OF YEARS. Is this similar the personification of lightning by our ancestors? What wonders will this planet of giants shower us with?
One can find out predictions by looking into a sort of mirror that appears to be filled with webs. When looking closer one can read that by using a certain attachment a person can see their reflection. Magic is the new age! Perhaps this time these chilly space giants will respect us and cure our ailments again.
The mystery is if it will occur before or after the apocalypse.
If you are unable to reach a computer, yet you have a debit or credit card, you can simply drive to the coffee shop and borrow theirs. Furthermore, if you are unable to find a car or Internet Café because you are on a deserted South Pacific island, you could fly to a region with resources set up by other people that give you access to these movies.
But I recommend learning in any field.
It is also important to read and watch creative works.
With this in mind and dissertating a video about the subject of Niberu, I rebut.
Perhaps this is simply a phenomenon, and certain people choose not to believe in irony. To lose track of this thought, is the study of irony somewhat like the study of creativity? They both seem indefinable.
7.11.09
1. What do we know about Whitey the Crime?
What is his/her name?
Emily Grett
Favourite breakfast food.
Those small apple cakes you can buy at the store.
Where does he/she live?
She lives about 6 blocks from the bay, in a small cottage with a cement garden. It has been over grown for years and the lush tree hanging over her circular rock garden in falling towards the grass.
Open his/her fridge and list what you see and smell.
Ice and mist. The white metallic box opens from the top.
Look under his/her bed and list what is there.
Dust, wood flooring and paneling that is darkened red.
Open his/her medicine cabinet and list what is there (of course you would never do this in real life, would you?.)
Placebos of various shapes in marked prescription bottles.
What books and magazines does he/she read?
These old dusty books, with black covers and faded letters.
What lie does she/he tell about self?
That she deserves this.
What secret does she/he hold?
A gem, red with a cross on the back. She keeps it in a cigar box in a desk in her basement.
What is her/his greatest desire or ambition?
To see paradise.
What gets in the way of achieving this?
Meditation, prayer.
What does s/he like to do while alone?
Read, write, play her small brown piano.
How does s/he move? ie. degree of tension.
She is calm with no need for disguises. She is in denial of her self so she remains very respectful of her superiors.
So make up your own question and answer it.
What does she do for a living?
Dances.
Emily Grett
Favourite breakfast food.
Those small apple cakes you can buy at the store.
Where does he/she live?
She lives about 6 blocks from the bay, in a small cottage with a cement garden. It has been over grown for years and the lush tree hanging over her circular rock garden in falling towards the grass.
Open his/her fridge and list what you see and smell.
Ice and mist. The white metallic box opens from the top.
Look under his/her bed and list what is there.
Dust, wood flooring and paneling that is darkened red.
Open his/her medicine cabinet and list what is there (of course you would never do this in real life, would you?.)
Placebos of various shapes in marked prescription bottles.
What books and magazines does he/she read?
These old dusty books, with black covers and faded letters.
What lie does she/he tell about self?
That she deserves this.
What secret does she/he hold?
A gem, red with a cross on the back. She keeps it in a cigar box in a desk in her basement.
What is her/his greatest desire or ambition?
To see paradise.
What gets in the way of achieving this?
Meditation, prayer.
What does s/he like to do while alone?
Read, write, play her small brown piano.
How does s/he move? ie. degree of tension.
She is calm with no need for disguises. She is in denial of her self so she remains very respectful of her superiors.
So make up your own question and answer it.
What does she do for a living?
Dances.
Disclamer:
Although we know more than this about Whitey the Crime, a simple silent moment that a person can have alone with or without a reflective surface can send numerous thoughts towards a sovereign people who refuse to believe what they are told.
This is an unintentional dissonance.
The idea that Whitey the Crime’s beliefs are better than someone who disagrees should be read as an ironic statement about the balance of the universe. Everything seems to have two schools of thought, those with it and those against it.
The wise understand that the equilibrium of these meetings is apparent in every day life. Repression causes violent outbursts in the most psychological sense. Perhaps this idea embarrasses us. But repressed memories of our past do come to our minds from time to time. These embarrassing secrets challenge our code of behavior, as it seems we wish we could be altruistic in our convictions. Dr. John Demartini taught me that, amongst other things.
Due to understood and misunderstood circumstances, or perhaps the content of my early writing I was told I was under the influence of the Devil. In my most altruistic tone, perhaps to explain that I didn’t feel I was, I told a youth Pastor a rude statement of awkward disagreement. I feel by now he was trying to save my soul, as people do. For a number of reasons, including this rude statement and the form of poetry that I was writing, my claims of reincarnation and philosophical questions that were deemed notably out of place, stupid, insane, wrong, and preachy, I eventually felt the need to leave the Baptist town where I grew up.
This leaves me at a point in my life when I have recently arrived home from the international gate of a foreign airport and had bitter, 40 year old, anonymous women tell me something like, “Who do you think you are? Are you so full of yourself that you think we care about you? Do you think you need to wear sunglasses in this American airport? You are a nobody, everyone knows that.”
Honestly, I was a little taken aback, I replied that the glasses were prescription and so that I could see. The lady walked away in a huff. I remarked to the woman serving coffee that I didn’t think I had ever seen that woman before. She asked how big the town was and I told her 10000 people, but I had moved to one of 32000. The young lady asked what I did, so I told her I was a writer and musician.
After that I told her it would be nice to get back home and walked away in sunglasses. I have told myself for a while that when strangers tell me things like that it means that I actually have a career. They are telling me that I am successful in the media.
I wonder if she saw the dichotomy in the old woman’s complete anonymity to me. I was rather baffled at this comment, though it made me think deeply of the months prior to my graceful and silent exit from the town of my youth.
It is important to note that 50% of people believed that George Bush Jr. was the coming of the anti-Christ and in the world today one can easily find as much material stating that Barak Obama is. The truth seems silly, as the same proof that worried me of Bush’s numerology is used to undermine our new president.
I am, by the way, entirely aware of the implied grandeur in that prior statement. It was a joke.
These insane ramblings of an insecure teenager going through a phase of being an outsider have been slightly edited from their original pen and ink phrasing. I don’t think I had read this work for 6 years when I found the old mostly empty notebook I found. It had my brother’s name on the front page and was written like an eight year old that wanted to emulate the writers in our family before either losing the notebook or losing interest.
Therefore it is Whitey the Crime.
Although we know more than this about Whitey the Crime, a simple silent moment that a person can have alone with or without a reflective surface can send numerous thoughts towards a sovereign people who refuse to believe what they are told.
This is an unintentional dissonance.
The idea that Whitey the Crime’s beliefs are better than someone who disagrees should be read as an ironic statement about the balance of the universe. Everything seems to have two schools of thought, those with it and those against it.
The wise understand that the equilibrium of these meetings is apparent in every day life. Repression causes violent outbursts in the most psychological sense. Perhaps this idea embarrasses us. But repressed memories of our past do come to our minds from time to time. These embarrassing secrets challenge our code of behavior, as it seems we wish we could be altruistic in our convictions. Dr. John Demartini taught me that, amongst other things.
Due to understood and misunderstood circumstances, or perhaps the content of my early writing I was told I was under the influence of the Devil. In my most altruistic tone, perhaps to explain that I didn’t feel I was, I told a youth Pastor a rude statement of awkward disagreement. I feel by now he was trying to save my soul, as people do. For a number of reasons, including this rude statement and the form of poetry that I was writing, my claims of reincarnation and philosophical questions that were deemed notably out of place, stupid, insane, wrong, and preachy, I eventually felt the need to leave the Baptist town where I grew up.
This leaves me at a point in my life when I have recently arrived home from the international gate of a foreign airport and had bitter, 40 year old, anonymous women tell me something like, “Who do you think you are? Are you so full of yourself that you think we care about you? Do you think you need to wear sunglasses in this American airport? You are a nobody, everyone knows that.”
Honestly, I was a little taken aback, I replied that the glasses were prescription and so that I could see. The lady walked away in a huff. I remarked to the woman serving coffee that I didn’t think I had ever seen that woman before. She asked how big the town was and I told her 10000 people, but I had moved to one of 32000. The young lady asked what I did, so I told her I was a writer and musician.
After that I told her it would be nice to get back home and walked away in sunglasses. I have told myself for a while that when strangers tell me things like that it means that I actually have a career. They are telling me that I am successful in the media.
I wonder if she saw the dichotomy in the old woman’s complete anonymity to me. I was rather baffled at this comment, though it made me think deeply of the months prior to my graceful and silent exit from the town of my youth.
It is important to note that 50% of people believed that George Bush Jr. was the coming of the anti-Christ and in the world today one can easily find as much material stating that Barak Obama is. The truth seems silly, as the same proof that worried me of Bush’s numerology is used to undermine our new president.
I am, by the way, entirely aware of the implied grandeur in that prior statement. It was a joke.
These insane ramblings of an insecure teenager going through a phase of being an outsider have been slightly edited from their original pen and ink phrasing. I don’t think I had read this work for 6 years when I found the old mostly empty notebook I found. It had my brother’s name on the front page and was written like an eight year old that wanted to emulate the writers in our family before either losing the notebook or losing interest.
Therefore it is Whitey the Crime.
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