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this week on the avant guardian

April 12, 2010
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this week on the avant guardian

“You can’t step in the same river twice.” It’s a familiar phrase with a fine philosophical pedigree and whose ramifications are continuously being dealt with. The phrase is attributed to Heraclitus, an ancient Greek whose name is sometimes supplemented with the epithets “the Obscure” and “the Weeping Philosopher.” The world is always in flux, ever changing. The water which makes the river – rather than a lake – is by nature always different – so, too, is our lived experience. Heraclitus agreed with his other ancient Greeks that the world was made of basic elements: water, air, earth, and fire – a Captain Planet cosmology, if you will. But for Heraclitus, the really fundamental element was fire because it is so active and alive, changing everything with which it has contact. So, up your lighter, as they say, and feel this fire. And try to hide from that nagging suspicion that the more things change the more they stay the same…

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a grain of la calle (miami)

April 1, 2010
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a grain of la calle (miami)

Aqui se vende de todo… MIAMI

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i wish we could write titles in capital letters

March 19, 2010
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i wish we could write titles in capital letters

CAUSE THEN I WOULD SAY THAT COMIC BOOKS ARE AWESOME I’ve always wanted to be Batman. Batman is pretty much my hero. Although, I’m not sure I could take on more than 4 guys at a time. So maybe Robin? Ugh Robin is totally lame. Alfred? Maybe. I guess being Superman would be cool, but Superman is really a frat boy. Have you ever met anyone from Iowa? I can’t relate to that at all. I always thought kryptonite looked sweet. But. If you bling out with kryptonite are you actively projecting the image that you are NOT Superman? Plus, it almost definitely gives you cancer. Cancer of the everything too. Back to the task at hand. Spiderman? Too snarky. Hulk? Can’t speak properly/is green. The Flash? Running: that’s it. Green Lantern? All it takes is a ring. Maybe I should think more realistically. If I had to actually BE a superhero I’d probably go with Reed Richards. Mister Fantastic of the Fantastic Four. A sensible choice I would say. Super smart, super bendable and stretchable, leader of men, and he’s married to the hot girl of the group. Though I just now considered the potential caveats of having a

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i love you, i love you not\/\/the ethics of eros

March 17, 2010
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i love you, i love you not\/\/the ethics of eros

Slavoj Zizek is insane.  He is also brilliant.  In the short clip from the documentary “Zizek!” Zizek contends that love is evil.  Love is about excluding one thing to focus on another.  A part of me wants to say, right on Zizzy! but then another part wants to say, wtf, mate?! Love is exclusionary.  We shift our focus to the object or subject of our affection and in so doing we necessarily exclude other objects and subjects from our gaze.  Is this a violent act?  Is it evil, as zizzy suggests?  I think not.  Can it lead to evil?  Without a doubt. There are two ideas at play here: 1. Love is necessarily exclusionary 2. By loving one thing more than an other, we do violence to that other. I agree with zizzy on the first note, but I have to disagree with the second.  To love is not a difficult thing.  We experience the pangs of love everyday.  We are continually disappointed by the actions of others which suggests that we expect certain things from the actions of others.  We expect the world to be a kind and caring place.  If we didn’t, there would be no disappointments.  We

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the land of motionless childhood /\/\ it’s probably only insomnia

March 15, 2010
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the land of motionless childhood /\/\ it’s probably only insomnia

Of course, it’s probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

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the blending heat of compassion

March 4, 2010
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the blending heat of compassion

Let me fall into the broken waves of your absence, twisted in the soft wings of your malignant ships.. as they sail in the frozen crystals that cover my eyelashes.. gently crashing. your memory, rusting the endless tunnels of my mouth.. shaping slow breaths into my dead lungs. i’ve been waiting for a taste; the death of your neglect. a wreckage of sunken ships swallows my dreams, in my desperation i embrace the planet of this silence. when i wake…. i can still taste the fruitless attempt of forgetting. it is our language, familiar, muted, splintered. -eileen garcia

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in this house you will never die \/\/ heavenly architecture 2

February 27, 2010
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in this house you will never die \/\/ heavenly architecture 2

In The Spirit of Terrorism, Jean Baudrillard points out that they are as willing to die as we are to live.  They are terrorists.  We are the consumer capitalist global order. Baudrillard sees a disturbing manifestation of a trend of consumer culture he first observed in Symbolic Exchange and Death more than thirty years before the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center: that slavery functions by way of a prohibition against death, and of all the social taboos produced by ‘global’ culture in the later half of the 20th century, such a prohibition – a prohibition on death, against a person’s moral right to die – is the most widespread.   It is the slave owner, the master, who can die.  The slave cannot die.  Captured in war, the slave’s life is transferred to an infinite debt.  He lives on credit; his death becomes the most immoral act possible, because it constitutes a failure to amend the debt accrued when his life was spared by his master. When we see suicidal terrorism on TV, our reaction to it is one of moral indignation.  Of course, there is the outward violence of the event, the civilian casualties, the destruction, the reality

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salt lick \/\/ branding wounds

February 25, 2010
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salt lick \/\/ branding wounds

The German literary critic Walter Benjamin, as much an avant guardian as anyone yet mentioned in these pages, once saw the revolution in an advertisement for this salt. Bullrich’s. He tells the story in his unfinished Arcades Project, his massive collage of historical ephemera drawn from nineteenth century Parisian street life. Benjamin left his manuscript of the Arcades Project in the hands of Georges Bataille, then a librarian at the Bibliotheque Nationale, while he attempted to escape Nazi persecution in America. He ended up committing suicide on the Spanish-French border, despairing this endeavor. His masterpiece languished in tantalizing obscurity for many years until it was published in German in the 1970′s and translated into English at the turn of the millenium.  In the meantime, his work slowly attracted considerable interest among artists and radicals the world over. The story’s a bit longish, but has stuck with me for many years, so I’d like to pass it along to you. Here goes: “Many years ago, on a streetcar, I saw a poster that, if things had their due in this world, would have found its admirers, historians, exegetes and copyists just as surely as any great poem or painting. And, in fact,

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the cherubs are not what they seem \/\/ heavenly architecture 1

February 21, 2010
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the cherubs are not what they seem \/\/ heavenly architecture 1

      The West, meaning Europe, was a really crappy place to live for the millennia-and-a-half (roughly) between the fall of the Romans and the Renaissance, especially when you compare the state of European life during the dark ages to the life elsewhere on the planet.  Architecturally (again roughly), it was all about churches and castles.  Churches and monastic centers meant to solidify and eternalize the dominance of the Christian religion, and served as the infrastructural hardware requisite to homogenize European identity generally in a time of feudal competition between insular communities.    Defensive castles, rarer than churches (though no less important), served to ensure that the rich people didn’t get killed every time a barbarian horde decided to invade. The contemplative and stoical Romanesque, coupled with intellectual, geometry-obsessed Byzantine architecture, piggybacking on religion and utilizing a more or less standard cannon of rules concerning construction and design, provided a stylistic unity for Europe roughly until the dawn of the 2nd millennia.  The Gothic mode intensified the brooding, introspective aspect of European architecture, until the relative opulence of the Renaissance resuscitated a certain levity and exhibitionist confidence in European structures. The idea is that when life sucks it becomes all

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pink hearts mcqueen

February 18, 2010
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pink hearts mcqueen

a small tribute, to a talent larger than life. there is a pink spot inside each and every one of us… especially those with rusted hearts. “Hope there’s someone Who’ll take care of me When I die, will I go Hope there’s someone Who’ll set my heart free Nice to hold when I’m tired” -Antony R.I.P. Alexander McQueen

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