Ca n'existe pas en France, en fait.
Quoi que, apparement, si. Mais pas chez ma banque.
Ca n'existe pas en France, en fait.
Quoi que, apparement, si. Mais pas chez ma banque.
chorus:
Rubber rubber rubber
From a rubber tree.
I like eating rubber
'Cause rubber tastes funn-y.
Rubber rubber rubber
From a rubber tree.
I like eating rubber.
'Cause rubber tastes funn-y.
I like blowing bubbles
Under a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia
Bubbles like blowing me.
chorus.
I like chewing Hubba Bubba
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia Hubba Bub-
Ba likes chewing me.
chorus.
I like listening to Abba
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia, Abba
Likes listening to me.
chorus.
I like shopping at Rabba
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia Rabba
likes shopping at me.
chorus.
I like making oil from blubber
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Rush', blubber likes
Making oil from me.
chorus.
I like drinking at the pub-a
By the rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia, the pub
Likes drinking at me.
chorus.
I like dancing at the club-a
Under the rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia the club
Like dancing at me.
chorus.
I like growing stubble
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia
Stubble likes growing me.
chorus.
I like Barney Rubble
In a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia
Bar-ney Rubble likes me.
chorus.
I like to wibble-wobble
On top a rubber tree.
In Sovi-et Russia
Wibble-wobble likes to me.
chorus.
Ad infinitum.
With no Vaseline: / Just a match and a little bit of gasoline.
Right off the docks, got the custom-made yachts / Burial plots, for my niggaz took fatal shots.
Slipped out my underoo / Sat on the toilet bowl / And let the hand I hold the mic with / Take Control.
... or, as previously mentioned
<bring> , elec. whirring (drill?) (àla dj spooky), film reel
let's start with some acid (bzzn bzt)
let's start with some ass (pfklch-pfklch)
fire siren
jungle massive (btktk tktka)
django massive
jeepers da na-na na na-na naaana
i have invented / a new
« bien à plat , <bring> »
ok, blue jays (garder les pieds)
"press 'Go' / to do some more" (from speak 'n' spell)
engine start
film reel
physically fit (ahead you got to wind up your head) (physically fit / baby sitta?)
ça fait chaud ds la tête
rotor (whum whum
whum)
"and you thought the beat slowed down"
interview: "how do you weurk?"
I just found some awesome stuff on the Wikipedia after reading about the Wu Tang Clan:
I have to use this in a story!
I have to remember the difference between Islam and the Nation of Islam!
I have to listen to this guy's more-RZA-than-RZA beats!
I have to get this album. It's chess-themed!!
Are there any Christian Satanists? Cause, to worship Satan, you have to be Christian, Jewish or Muslim, right?
The way I see it, you could be Satanist in two basic ways. The first way is to just worship Satan without believing in "God". But in that case, what makes Satan any different from a universal deity like "God" or "Allah"? Not much. Satan still has to take full responsibility for creation, for morals, good people as well as bad people, etc. Doesn't make him much different than any other god.
The second way is if you worship Satan to actively reject another god. So you believe in the rule of death and pain and infinite night. You believe that Satan is gathering his powers and will conquer "God" one day. You believe that he was right to challenge "God" and that, though he lost the battle, he will win the war. Oh yeah, that's exciting! But that means that you believe in the current supremacy of another god.
So, in the first case, you don't really believe in anything remarkable, and you don't need to wear black nor drink blood, because Satan also created flowers and marshmallows.
But in the second case, you're accepting Abrahamic theology, which says that "God" is currently supreme. You're not accepting that this god will be supreme forever, but you are accepting this god currently.
Which makes you either a Muslim, a Jewish, or a Christian Satanist.
Martin, you should compile the following.
Then, release these as leatherbound gilt volumes I—IIII.
My friend told me the great author Borges once said the mistake young writers always make is inventing new poetic forms instead of training on proven, old ones.
Here then, is a poetic form I invented. I call it the "Papet".
It's the first form I've ever fully invented, although, as Borges predicted, every time I write a poem, I try to invent a new form. The difference is that usually I invent three or four forms all in the same poem, and this time I've stuck to just one.
This form is very mathematical, so I think it will impose a lot of discipline on anyone that tries to use it. Here it is.
(I call it the "Papet" because lots of poetic forms end with "et".)
You are not limited to the same form of U, V and W in all the stanzas; for example, if U is a verb, it may appear in present tense in the first stanza, and in the infinitive in another stanza. However, if U, V and W appear in the same form in all stanzas, this variant is called "Monastic".
If, furthermore, U, V and W all take the same form at all times, that is that form(U) = form(V) = form(W), this variant is called "Bartholomæic".
If U, V and W each take a different form in each stanza, this variant is called "Contemporary".
As for rhyming, the words U, V and W do not have to participate in the rhyme. However, if they do participate in the final rhyming syllable, then this variant is called "The royal".
Here is an example papet. I chose the words (U, V, W) = ("udder", "volt", "wet").
first stanza:
One young man dreamt of an udder. If he ever perceived one, he'd bolt-- Oh--you'd gasp how fast: as a volt. His dream tempted him as knives, butter.
second stanza:
You'd think he wanted one as a pet. While sailing, he'd saw R's off his rudder. But his boat would not produce udder. And he would often sink and get wet.
third stanza (commonly known as the "crescendo")
He grew older, failed to stay a young colt. Got about as old as you can get. And revealed the two on his breast, you bet: The secret kept lifelong, he flew like a volt.
There you are. You'll notice that this fulfills both the "The royal" and the "Bartholomæic" conditions. In this case, "The royal" trumps, so this is a "The royal papet".
There's still a lot of work to be done, such as defining the meter, or different variants based on meter, and finding the optimal variants. I believe that this form will work best in a short footprint, such as an iambic or spondaic tetrameter, where you really squeeze down the number of syllables in one line, but I haven't performed the necessary experiments yet. There's also work to be done on exploiting the "Contemporary" variant, where the forms change, which I think in our day is more promising than the "The royal".
Anyhow, I publicly release it here (under the GPL 3.0 license, of course), and I hope that you enjoy compiling with it, and letting me know of your progress.
I posted some shit on Wikipen.
Click here to read CEO.
Click here to read Non Seulement (which I should have called "Amour entre homme et dauphin", because it's based on the image of a man screwing a dolphin).
Apparently, there's this culture where arrows don't indicate "forward", but "backward". When you see an arrow, you are supposed to run in the opposite direction of its point.
This is because, one day, in a year when the stores of dried dung hadn't been abundant enough to provide insulation for the winter provisions, the culture stumbled upon a method of momentarily slowing quark rotation to the point that they invented a rudimentary hyperdrive system. Unsure of what to do with it, and with their elders insisting on the creation of focus groups and a sub-committee to oversee the environmental impact of any further experiments, the bumbling savages' top scientists inverted the propulsion tracks on the platform destined to carry sacrificed virgins in the following day's tree-worshipping ceremony, and thus all the controls on the platform (which were marked with arrows) ended up pointing the opposite way than the platform would actually travel.
The driver (hired on seasonal contract from an entrepreneurial neighbouring tribe), was so bewildered by the controls that he piloted the platform into the lake, where it miraculously floated to the very center and then began glowing with a benevolent pale light, and records show that all the tribe members agreed that over the Sky-snake's next shedding cycle, there was no war nor disease.
This fortuitous event occasioned a great respect for the back ends of stylized arrows, and from that day the barbarians have always understood an arrow to mean "move backward away from my point".
That is why we need to introduce the "arrow-direction-signification" parameter, to take into account whether our generated arrows should point towards or away from the location to which we want to direct our users.
I'm getting really sick of these nightmares.
They may be very interesting from a scientific point of view, but they're getting too frightening to bear.
The weird thing about them is how they always involve some element of death in a way that I can't quite put my finger on. Exceptionally, last night was straightforward: I dreamt I found a person who had attempted suicide. A capable friend of mine was able to save the victim. The scary part of the dream, though, was not so much the suicide as the atmosphere of death in which I discovered it.
Briefly, we were forced, my friend and I, by some bizarre circumstances to break into and snoop around in someone's house. We found strange stuff there, like a CD collection composed entirely of box sets. We were initially laughing at the inhabitant's commitment to popular culture, of which there were many signs.
However, there was something sinister about the whole situation, something that warned me that soon we would come upon an element that would scare our wits to high heaven. And the suicide was pretty much that element. My actual discovery of the suicide was preceded by the sound of the person talking through the door.
I really don't want to get into detail, though. It's not that the details are particularly gruesome or disturbing, but my personal response to them is too chilling to recall.
That's something I always feel in my nightmares, the thing that distinguishes them from scary dreams. There's always an atmosphere of death, even if there is no actual death in the dream. And although the characteristics that bring about this atmosphere feel very familiar to me, I can never quite express what these characteristics are.
That's what makes this so interesting to analysis. If I could ever get over the chilling quality of these dreams enough to interpret them, I am sure I would discover something profound about myself.
But, Freud says that dreams are manifestations of our repressed thoughts. Everything a dream does--including, how effectively it seemes to slide out of your memory's grasp when you wake up--is the result of an effort to keep dangerous thoughts from reaching your consciousness. So, in this case, the fact that the dream frightens me to the point of making me hesitate to touch it, is a result of my mind's attempt to protect me from something I don't want to think about.
But it's very puzzling. For several reasons. First, why death? It seems to me that death is something so common to all of us that either a) we should all have dealt with it by adulthood or b) we should all be having these nightmares. Do you? Why should my mind preoccupy itself with evading thoughts of death? Is there not some more efficient mechanism already in place to handle them?
Second, as Freud suggests, the manifest thought is only a mask for the real thought, in your dream. So I'm not really dreaming about death, but death is being used to mask something else. It remains odd that death is being used consistently, however.
Third, during these dreams, I always gain a tiny bit of motor control when they really get to the scary part. That is, I scream. However, I don't have full motor control. After all, I'm not supposed to have any motor control while I sleep. But in these dreams, I always have enough to try to scream, or talk, or shout, but not enough to do it very well. And the result is I always shout in a very high-pitched voice, and this just makes everything even more scarier. I can hear myself making the high-pitched shout during my dream, and when I awake, it's still echoing in the dark. This is absolutely awful to me, and don't even ask about the person sleeping beside me, for whom I feel very sorry.
I also should note here that when I get one of these dreams, then I've probably overeaten the night before, although the reverse is not true. This has actually resulted in some very strange visions of food and death in the same nightmare, but I really don't want to discuss how those two elements came together either.
I am leaving it at that. I want to know why these death-elements are so familiar to me. I want to know where I first experienced them. I am honestly fascinated by them, and would love to use them in some story or something. But they are also so scary that I can't get near them.