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Claudio Ianora

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flummoxed 1&1/2
1/22/2011 10:06:54 AM


Eric the Rusty to me 
show details 10:49 PM (14 hours ago) 


HAHAH this is hignlarious ..

and.. Ululating! 

One of my favourite all time words

Just woked up from a terrible dream, and then sleep paralysis.. Ever had that?
You can,t move , paralyzed, terrifying, you feel like you cant breathe. lying there e nothing you can do
can't even yell i wantedto yelll JEFFFROO HLELLPPP -- could not! anyway afer it wore off i thought i had a fever
but t was a terrible cold sweat kind of thingg and i was shaking.. Now i am getting worter 

i will read more tomororow and answer your thread

On 21 January 2011 12:03, claudio ianora wrote:

ugh! (WORK IN PROGRESS, I load it here because in my comfuter it isn't safe) o go away! come back another day!!! Hell don't even bother, chances are you are better off with all the others.... go to sweet hell! I am on a roll and I don;t give a shit.

Eeeeh God! you get that too? I had it once and i am still scared! Flummoxed to death! 

I have got to use this psycotopeic word you just gave me! New, new to me anyways and thus a fifty-fifty chance of being true to start with to which then you must add the quantum plus that makes it virtually true. Nice word! Top of my list of such indispensible an remarkable words. You can put it on Jeffro when you advise him about women again. I will use it on the rooster on the roof of the old Toyota on calle 44 just outside the hotel Lilli. Lilli hotel!!! you see? I am not making this up! He looked flummoxed too I can tell you that! Even not knowing exactly what flummoxed means. I mean you don't have to know what flummoxed means, it is a perfect word, it does not even belong to language, or any categories, not any class. It should not be official, it is not even a word is a paraword or metasound, it should be unlisted not pigeonholed in a dictionary. You feel the effect directly. Not like a picture or the memory of a picture, or something like that. It is an incisive, immediate an osmotically invasive experience in a word! You say it and you are plunged in its tourbinous element outside of space/time. you light up with it like a bulb lights up with light when it is switched on. And yet… it is like a black hole too! Because the moment you conjure it, everything is sucked into it, like you and everything I mean. That is why I didn’t like this precise invasive, melding look of the stupid scrawny bird tied on a leash on the hot roof in the hot sun watching his own shit bake on the hot metal. Like it turned to chalk right in front of his eyes. Baked while he stood there. And he looked straight at me and me at him, we locked eyes, and we were flummoxed together for a moment and the whole stupid scrambling, rolling and roaring Mexican town was flummoxed! It and everything went and got sucked into it like we had accidentally flushed it and the whole stupid banging and spinning universe down the stupid cosmic toilet! To a stupid mirror image dimension I suppose... you can't get rid of anything you know. Like up… no it went up, no down, down the sphincter and the colon to the large intestine maybe full of Mexican food. Oh God , no, not that! . I am eating stupid Mexican breakfast right now, no.. not now! Now then when I was drafting this I was eating this horrible looking revolting shit that has that quantum taste of what it is about to become before I even get it down the gullet to that other dimension. A!... You know what? There is hardly anything in this wide stupid world that does not bother me by now ... Even the nice things bother me, because I now know why they are nice or give pleasure , like this itch i have for over a month, and it sn't even that bad now, but it bilds up in and around the arse hole and it pitches me against my arse hole, it is so intense! Things have a reason and a purpose you know, but hell if I know what the purpose of a very itchy arse hole can be, except of course to make me scratch it, which i refuse to because then the pleasure is as intense as some of the best orgasms I have had in my life. And I am trying to be stoic, like Anthistene but then after my morning dump, or what I refer to my morning deposit and only net contribution i make to Gaia I have to whipe it, and I am in love! Flummoxedly in love. But that flummoxed look that the stupid stupid rooster gave me bothers me more than anything for some reason. I mean, sure I walked there under the hot sun see if he was still there. And yes, I did remember the whole thing was so stupid that it bothered me even then, years ago, the first time I looked at it that is. So I knew or should have known what I was getting into. But hell! I usually know that most of the time, and that never stopped me from going right ahead and do things that I know are stupid. And so how could something that I had come 4000 miles to see in the first place, stop me from walking a few blocks just because I know it is stupid? How the hell did I and Adam get nipples in the first place? And were not those stupid zealous painters and schoolmen so flummoxed thinking about it and trying to decide - if it was up to them to decide- whether to paint the little suckers on Adam as he and Eve and a couple of fig leaves were evicted by an archangel of all things! A bouncer or a sheriff with wings and a flaming sword chasing them poor things with tits and everything they needed to insure that they would mess it all up for all of us forever! So I am trying to say is , that, why do we pick on something stupid when everything else around the stupid thing before and after and through out all the quadrants is really stupid if you care to find out and not just make yourself stupid instead in order to get all those stupid things to make sense all of a sudden. But you go for it , and I know why too, and I can’t really blame you… Hell yeah! I mean where would you have to start to fix all this mess? And How? And even Why? Why is really what you want to know if you feel you have to do something about it. Why is it all wrong and why should you fix it when is so much easier to play dumb ? I learned from Eric that the fundamental question is why and that we are clever so we get suckered into trying to figure out how instead. It changed my life. So I knew that the whole thing was so stupid that I would likely be bothered again for many years, even if that was not- maybe not exactly, the same stupid bird! I could not tell and it would not matter… So.. where was I ?... And Why does this thing not allow me to make mistakes! That bothers me too. Anyways-sss! O.K. Since we cannot do anything about this crazy dispensation let us have a little fun with it! A little irreverence is religious, a lot is sintly. And , yeah, I could not tell and I have a feeling, just a feeling mind you… yeah , no ! A really strong feeling actually, that maybe he can’t tell either! what is reality, time, quantum even, when you are a rooster and for some reason you have to spend every day of your life tied up on the roof of a stupid old Toyota in the middle of a stupid Mexican town watching your shit bake to white and maybe wondering about the meaning of life, because you have all day, and you don’t really know- I don’t think… nothing, nothing at all! But this guy, this stupid looking old man (he means me), stopped right there! Where I could not help seeing him right in front of me! Big and old and white like baked chicken shit…. 

Shit I need a break! I am in a bouncing WestJet plane laughing and bouncing and farthing and crying and bouncing around like stupid and I am getting cramps on my side!

I caught the stupid bird' attentiom as he stood there looking flummoxed in the middle of his daily filology maybe, up there on the hot roof and maybe he was getting to the eight noble truths. Maybe , I mean I don't know nothing too, so he looked at me like maybe I was it ! The meaning of life standing there while in reality the only stupid guy who knew a bit of why that stupid rooster was tied on the roof every morning and was driven to the calle 44 just above the Stupid Lilli hotel was sitting on the treshold of his store smiling happily because he was the only one in the world with a rooster on the roof of his car. And you should see the rooster lean into a curve and double clutch with his feet when changing gears and using his wings just enough when he had to stop for the red light with the stupid driver inside and the tourist taking pictures and running to catch him at the light so that when they got back lo Iowa or wherever they could show their stupid pitcture to the the farmer nex door, who maybe had a big fat american kind of roosters and anyway like I was saying the stupid guy who owned the life of that rooster drove to his shop, parked the car with the rooster by his store and leaned back on his lounge chair with his harms crossed on his his belly happy with himself.Happy with the interest he created and proud of it like he had just invented sliced bread. The stupid rooster did not even know that little bit of filology. I mean When the stupid man had that brain storm it must have been like the day of creation, and now just like God he sits there with his arms crossed on his belly and enjoys the fruit of his labour, and me and the bird are flummoxed. Subject object and flummox. I don't feel good about it at all, and it isn't that I care that much for that bird, it is that he looked at me and me at him and I don't know who looked more stupid, if me or him. Or God sitting on his ass at the entrance of his shop enjoying his creation. Hell I wish I had not gone all the way there to get flummoxed, I get flummoxed enough as it is let me tell you, and but then hell I know how stupid I am and I know that had I not gone there to see if the stupid scrawny bird was there still I would have regretted it later. No, I just had to go and thats that!. Now,where ever I will be, I will know that that rooster was still there. I also know that this story is going to cause some reflections, insights, theories, hipothemuses and who knows what as long as i live and my mind drifts to that combination and sequence of neuron fireworks and I am blinked back there.. and maybe it is good, I mean the stupid bird may not think that yet. I mean it is a hell of an unatural experience, so it must cause him some deep thoughts deep inside him where it is so dark that you cannot even make out a big wall that you know is there because you feel it is there. And just when youn think maybe it isn't there after all and you were wrong about it- Bang! you bang your head against the stupid wall that you damn well knew it was there! But I tell you that bird may have had so much of it, I mean he must have been driven to such mental strain that he might have figured it all by the time I got there.... shit he the stupid looking rooster on the old toyota roof may have figured out the meaning of life! Shit ! I feel even worsse now, because I have no idea, and he can not write it, he cannot go down to the zocalo and e-mail it to me becaue among other things, and the principal reason that he cannot do that, is that he is tied to the roof of the stupid toyota and so be as it may the stupid answer to the meaning of life is tied with him every morning just a couple of doors up from the hotel Lilli... so I a can only speculate what if he did, imagine, theorize, and it isnt easy because as bad as it can get for me it is never like driving everymorning though this cahos to stand flummoxed there all day in the hot sun which must be conducive to deep thinking no matter how stupid a bird you were originally designated to be, when the whole ordeal of a genial idea took over your destiny.So he sais to himself, life is shit baking to white on a hot roof of a toyota. And I was a bird but then the bird was made word, and the life of a verb is just liturgy. A toyota book sitting in the hot sun and the book of the word is on fire and this stupid guy come and stands there looking really flummoxed and he doesnt move for the longest time, and now -says the stupid bird, I am not sure anymore... has this stupid white old man figured it all out? I am just not sure now...damn!

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More Blogs by Claudio Ianora
• dripping dead - Tuesday, September 27, 2011
• tally [ho!] - Monday, September 26, 2011
• nobody writes to the strange one - Wednesday, September 21, 2011
• amplitude - Tuesday, September 06, 2011
• caducetor - Tuesday, July 26, 2011
• logion 77, join in! - Saturday, July 23, 2011
• foisted free will and derivative choices. - Wednesday, June 29, 2011
• improvements make crooked roads straight but the old ones.. - Wednesday, June 22, 2011
• love amoral- death the gateway to divine reward - Tuesday, May 24, 2011
• Gameteus; - Tuesday, May 17, 2011
• A good Time To die [does the universe have a purpose!?!] - Thursday, May 12, 2011
• man's greatest intellectual achievement - Monday, May 09, 2011
• seeking teachers - Thursday, May 05, 2011
• missing the obvious - Sunday, May 01, 2011
• retooling - Sunday, May 01, 2011
• big bang is no brainer - Sunday, April 10, 2011
• Bradley Manning vs National Shame. - Thursday, March 10, 2011
• scum - Saturday, January 29, 2011
•  flummoxed 1&1/2 - Saturday, January 22, 2011  

• surviving mexico 3 - Friday, January 21, 2011
• surviving mexico 2 - Friday, January 21, 2011
• surviving mexico - Wednesday, January 19, 2011
• Brhama dreaming - Friday, January 14, 2011
• Priapus medicine and mad sciences - Monday, November 29, 2010
• back to olympus! - Monday, November 29, 2010
• on omissions, 2 - Wednesday, September 15, 2010
• on power, 2. - Thursday, September 09, 2010
• Pit 2. To piss or not to piss - Saturday, September 04, 2010
• On Faith - Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Mother beloved, Mamica mia by Albert Russo

Photos, prose and poems relating to my beloved mother Sarah Russo during her long itinerary from her birth in 1920 on the island of Rhodes (Greece), through Southern and Central Af..  
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