The Quintessence has now been thoroughly debunked.

Apace along the Woody Ridge/ Apaches along the Woody Ridge.

Apace along the Woody Ridge/ Apaches along the Woody Ridge, Zane Grey wuz here, but now he’s gone.   Now I am the only one.

Sorry about that:  the Quintessence has now been thoroughly  (tho roughly) de-bunked, and considering R.B. Fuller’s contributions, de-bucked.  Yes, and the fabulous 120-cell is just that, the “stuff,” of myth, and legend, that one might use to stuff a stuffed Unicorn with.  Or a toy rhinoceros. Or a dead one.  L.E. is dead, long never-live the L.E.

Buckminster Fuller, Albert Einstein, Albert Michelson, and Ed Morley, and finally, Wendy Carlos have once-and-for-all debunked the very idea.

The construction of the Rhombic Dodecahedron proceeds apace.  However one often prefers to think of it as the great Triangular Twenty-four –hedron.

the Quintessence has now been thoroughly debunked,  so sorry!

 It really should be triangular 24-hedron.

E8, or it's too late...

It’s nothing left but a pale penumbral shade, but here’s the closest thing outside of Afghanistan (where it’s forbidden) to the Ancient Greek celebration of the Dionysian,  only the original fire’s but a smoldering ember.

                                                 So here’s the closest thing...

                                                            Drink... to the celebration of the Dionysian.

18.


Drink... to the celebration of the Dionysian.  But in five or higher dimensions, you won't be able to drink water ("we haven't had that spirit here since 1969").


17.


It's (not!) neither here nor there.


78/77.


 Rather 13/11 over 7/6.

«Форт Апачи» (Orange-colored Chedeski):  Mama it ain’t no Slav.

 Who’s to the Spartans, as the Spartans are to the Athenians...?

                                Home Sweet Home, wait...that’s not, that’s...

                        Corriganville, Ray Corrigan Ranch, Simi Valley, California, USA

32/25, five-limit pyknon picking: "μυδυμε δοιοιθ." It is the case that it is the case.

Middle-finger picking good...Mountain Music Arcadia-style...





Middle-finger picking good:   "μυδυμε   δοιοιθ."




                                                      Ancient, Greek...

                                                 Yet in modern Japan!




Japan?     Via the Bodhidharma... 



                                  BodhidharmaYoshitoshi, would you...

                                          ...buy a religion from this character?




“Why did Bodhidharma Come from the West?”





 (or the Patriarchetype) of all Patriachetypes.... ?

                              Hmmmmm... numbers...numerological considerations?





Lord (Byron), look at what it's come to...the happily hoi polloi





Crass democracy in the name of a "conservative," "Republican," republican," wild orgie of violence of a part, and home, and in the fabulous Middle East.



                                          Lord, look at what it's come to...

Greek sex-workers, join the rest of the third world, Ungulate Merkel's E.U. Economic Ungulate Miracle, mirabile dictu!   Praise the Lord!




                                            Meanwhile, back at the Ranch:

                                                    Guns, not guitars..





Guns, not guitars, are the new grave and image on the right, and, no gravity in sight ,for the N.R.A. bigwigs, as of now.



Levity worthy of Mary Poppins...



It's all Greek to the I-can-not-image-in-where-or-why-not Iconoclasts of today's Byzantine Crass Democracy "Republic" in name only.   "Elite" is a dirty word, whilst "elect" means to elect "the elect,"  the one's who are both biblical and constitutional literalists and origanlists, as if anachronism were an only-Greek word to hoi polloi.  





The oh-so Fabulous Middle East, ME-19,and ME-163, even... ME-43!




19.


163.


43.



-2.

Yield at once, to the temptations of aloofness, from all,…temptations. 

Let us not dwell for too long on this pinched pyknon picking from an Island (over-)populated with Bodhidarma post-war meditations. Let’s not dwell in faux ‘austerity’ of a Balkan peninsula denuded of trees so long ago in prehistoric archetype if archaic Arcadian times,  that Panic ruled, and bronze, then Iron, and Mycenian rage gave way to Glee, and Hiroshima.

No, let’s flee, singly, one at a time, or,  in monastic, cellular communing,  into that  false real, that  real false,  and let us yield at once, to the temptations of aloofness, from all,...temptations.  Zen-beyond-Zen,  an ironed-out jewel-net reticulum of fateful futuristic choice.

“Anything that’s small has to grow, and always grows.”

This is the word not of one who’s a believer, but rather of one who is believed.

“Forty days and forty nights,” as a given has muddied the water, muddied the truly austere, throughout, down through the centuries, the record, must be corrected, it was forty-one.  Four times a year, and in each season a time for this alchemistry of question, antecedent, three time, then...consequent.

“Why don’t you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see.”

And:

“Baby, baby, baby, do you like it?”

"So I decided what I’m going to do now" saith the reasonable facsimile of Bodhidarma , this time "I will travel away from the rising Sun," and the pinched pyknon alone, and "refuse to yield at once, to the temptation of ‘aloofness, from all,...temptation’.”

                                The Blue Ouroboros of the Desert of the Real:

                          After the Green Night, forty (not thirty-nine) left to go...

.

Verily the Spirit of Nuftule Branwein ("we haven't had that spirit here since 1969!") has ascended that spiral staircase, it is the case, that it is the case, of Warped Passages (viz. Randall, Lisa etal.).