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Dragonrouge's Journal


Dragonrouge's Journal

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4 entries this month
 

dreamachine

23:24 Feb 08 2012
Times Read: 843


The dreamachine (or dream machine) is a stroboscopic flicker device that produces visual stimuli. Artist Brion Gysin and William S. Burroughs's "systems adviser" Ian Sommerville created the dreamachine after reading William Grey Walter's book, The Living Brain.



In the dreamachine's original form, a dreamachine is made from a cylinder with slits cut in the sides. The cylinder is placed on a record turntable and rotated at 78 or 45 revolutions per minute. A light bulb is suspended in the center of the cylinder and the rotation speed allows the light to come out from the holes at a constant frequency of between 8 and 13 pulses per second. This frequency range corresponds to alpha waves, electrical oscillations normally present in the human brain while relaxing.



The Dreamachine is the subject of the National Film Board of Canada 2008 feature documentary film FLicKeR by Nik Sheehan





A dreamachine is "viewed" with the eyes closed: the pulsating light stimulates the optical nerve and alters the brain's electrical oscillations. The user experiences increasingly bright, complex patterns of color behind their closed eyelids. The patterns become shapes and symbols, swirling around, until the user feels surrounded by colors. It is claimed that using a dreamachine allows one to enter a hypnagogic state. This experience may sometimes be quite intense, but to escape from it, one needs only to open one's eyes



A dreamachine may be dangerous for people with photosensitive epilepsy or other nervous disorders. It is thought that one out of 10,000 adults will experience a seizure while viewing the device; about twice as many children will have a similar ill effect.


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Kismet

09:31 Feb 03 2012
Times Read: 850


blood and grey skies entwined


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Orthodox Church view on Trinity

23:06 Feb 02 2012
Times Read: 852


The Orthodox teach that God is not of a substance that is comprehensible since God the Father has no origin and is eternal and infinite. That it is improper to speak of things as physical and metaphysical but rather it is Christian to speak of things as created and uncreated. God the Father is the origin, source of the Trinity not God in substance or essence.



Therefore the consciousness of God is not obtainable to created beings not in this life or the next (see apophatism). Though through co-operation with God (called theosis) Mankind can become good (God like) and from such a perspective reconcile himself to the Knowledge of Good and the Knowledge of Evil he consumed in the Garden of Eden (see the Fall of Man). Thus returning himself to the proper relationship with his creator and source of being.


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La Torche by Marie Nizet

10:01 Feb 02 2012
Times Read: 859


Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos







Je vous aime, mon corps, qui fûtes son désir,

Son champ de jouissance et son jardin d’extase

Où se retrouve encor le goût de son plaisir

Comme un rare parfum dans un précieux vase.



Je vous aime, mes yeux, qui restiez éblouis

Dans l’émerveillement qu’il traînait à sa suite

Et qui gardez au fond de vous, comme en deux puits,

Le reflet persistant de sa beauté détruite.



Je vous aime, mes bras, qui mettiez à son cou

Le souple enlacement des languides tendresses.

Je vous aime, mes doigts experts, qui saviez où

Prodiguer mieux le lent frôlement des caresses.



Je vous aime, mon front, où bouillonne sans fin

Ma pensée à la sienne à jamais enchaînée

Et pour avoir saigné sous sa morsure, enfin,

Je vous aime surtout, ô ma bouche fanée.



Je vous aime, mon cœur, qui scandiez à grands coups

Le rythme exaspéré des amoureuses fièvres,

Et mes pieds nus noués aux siens et mes genoux

Rivés à ses genoux et ma peau sous ses lèvres.



Je vous aime, ma chair, qui faisiez à sa chair

Un tabernacle ardent de volupté parfaite

Et qui preniez de lui le meilleur, le plus cher,

Toujours rassasiée et jamais satisfaite.





Photobucket





Et je t’aime, ô mon âme avide, toi qui pars

― Nouvelle Isis ― tentant la recherche éperdue

Des atomes dissous, des effluves épars

De son être où toi-même as soif d’être perdue.



Je suis le temple vide où tout culte a cessé

Sur l’inutile autel déserté par l’idole ;

Je suis le feu qui danse à l’âtre délaissé,

Le brasier qui n’échauffe rien, la torche folle...



Et ce besoin d’aimer qui n’a plus son emploi

Dans la mort, à présent retombe sur moi-même.

Et puisque, ô mon amour, vous êtes tout en moi

Résorbé, c’est bien vous que j’aime si je m’aime.







Photobucket

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