Tag Archives: storm

Matheus Schurr

“It all began on a dreary night of November 1816. Whilst Mary Shelley was drawing energy from freak electrical storms and sudden weather changes to build Frankenstein at the Villa Diodati on the shores of Lake Geneva, a family in a small Black Forest village on the other side of the Alps called on Doctor Johann Tritschler to give his medical opinion on the condition of a thirteen-year-old boy named Matheus Schurr. The boy, according to Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, was tormented by dreams and physical ailments: ‘His speech was rapid and loud, his face was pale and with an expression of anxiety, he complained often of violent pains in his body, of headache, sickness, and an inclination to vomit, and he not only trembled when he attempted to move, but had constant convulsions’.”


“Medicine proved ineffective, and over the next few days the boy got much worse; he spoke with a rapidity that showed he had as little control over his tongue as over the muscles of his limbs. However, while the doctor was admonishing his patient to be more quiet and composed, by mere accident he stroked the boy’s face once or twice with his hand, and immediately the wildness in his looks vanished. To his astonishment, the boy became calm and spoke gently, and he discovered that the healing process lay not in the medicine he prescribed, but the hands, especially the movement of the hands over the body without actually touching. After several visits the boy was cured – or he recovered, which of course isn’t necessarily the same thing – and the Doctor reluctantly conceded that the cure might be the ‘existence of an imperceptible agent acting by means of magnetical influence’. Thereafter, with regard to Doctor Tritschler’s casebook, it was consigned to the medical archive.”

“1816 was a dark year. Solar events created prolonged geomagnetic storms, and it is likely they contributed to the climatic mood swings. They may also have contributed to the mood swings of a section of the world’s population: the eminent Scottish scientist, David Brewster, invented the kaleidoscope in that year, and before he even reached the patent office there was mass demand for this brief but spectacular break from the gloom – a demand met through numerous copycat versions. No doubt a coincidence, it was the year the Scottish Enlightenment dimmed and, with the death of Adam Ferguson, the year it was extinguished. It was the year of swift weather shifts from calm to chaos, of blinding bursts and deafening blasts from freak electrical storms. It was the year Frankenstein was born, though he didn’t actually toddle into the bookshops until he was two. It was the year of ‘blood or bread’ riots, of the heavy midsummer hail that flattened crops, of mass migrations and the death of tens of thousands. It was the year the volcanic eruptions of Tambora, on the island of Sumbawa in Indonesia, caused cataclysmic climate changes by draping a veil around the Earth. It was the year without a summer.”

Source:

https://www.counterpunch.org/2017/12/11/the-year-without-summer/

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No power in the hills 連句

1:48am

It just reminds me
of Keith Fullerton Whitman
snow taps the window—

I wonder how long
I’ll be disconnected for—
like I give a shit—

The satellite dish
is under a mound of white—
it can’t do its job—

That’s usually when
I get up and go outside
or eat some acid—

But then I figured
I could keep writing haiku—
seemed like a good plan—

There exists something
kinda like the internet—
it’s what we’re made from—

It’s why we see things
before we think they happen
while we are asleep—

And why we’re always
thinking exactly the same
things at the same time—

Sure I count the words
first five, then seven, then five
all over again—

I count them without
knowing why or where they will
scatter—lead me to—

The time marches on—
the snow keeps getting thicker
but it’s warm in here—

Like a bright greenhouse—
I’m naked in the garden
just because I can—

A pitch black drumbeat
in the way that you’re melting—
drift off to elsewhere—

Or so I thought—uh—
now I’m wide awake thinkin’
might see the sunrise—

I still wonder who
lies with me by the river—
the rattlesnakes coil—

Who sits with me by
the bonfire in Myakka—
the jumping spider—

Who gazes with me—
but the blacktailed blackeyed deer—
the barn owl says yes—

Who forms tight clusters
on the eucalyptus trees
down by the lighthouse—

I don’t know—I can
only wonder—only write—
only wait once more—

The grey wolves are gone—
they left ten decades ago—
mountain lions stayed—


8:08am

I waked powerless—
there are trees freezing to death—
the creaking woodstove—

Called PG&E—
miracle to have service—
down since 3:21—

A generator
would be pretty sweet to have—
just watch the snow fall—

Maybe I’ll get one—
fill this page with haiku first—
we’ll see what happens—

Life can be like chess—
say patience is a virtue—
always simulate—

Why did I have booch
before a cup of coffee—
that was pretty dumb—

Sit by the fire—
wonder if my friends will come—
phone’s on airplane mode—

But I’m not flying
on a plane like the other
renku that I writ—

That swollen gushing—
welling up and wondering
where it will dissolve—

What tributary
will this channel fertigate
through perseverance—

What sign is seen next—
how long before we see it
clearly again—

It builds up—collects—
like the snow on the pine trees—
something’s got to give—

They’re only notions—
like things I ought to strive for—
everything’s a dream—

It spins like a wheel—
hard to say where it will land—
it’s always moving—

I want to take it—
everything I’ve ever done—
give it all away—

I don’t believe in
space but I believe in
time’s weird gravity—

It was way too bright
writing this by the window—
crawl back into bed—

I won’t wish for it
’cause I know on some level
it’s already done—

Besides let’s face it—
all of this will melt away—
rocket arches warm—


7:54pm

When was the last time
I sat with a candle lit—
inkhanded filling—

Dozens of trees down—
the road that takes me out there—
obliterated—

All I need right now—
peppercorn pork tenderloin—
fuck yeah the oven

Not sure what else but
Amy’s cream of mushroom soup
will be dank as fuck—

Feed them coals with logs—
go out and get a bundle—
the motor on deck—

Come at your own risk
is basically what I said—
the fuckin’ road man—

Gotta love the hills—
it’s always something out here—
never a dull day—

Now it’s time to feast—
why am I still writing this—
steady with candle—

Gold country’s rustic—
drive a city slicker mad—
not even a road—

Butter up the toast—
I’m full as a big balloon—
how’d Boozilla fare—

Well this has been fun—
you gotta stop somewhere right—
all about that sleep—

Put my toes outside
to feel the cold mountain air—
it’s too warm in here—

You’re like a windchime—
sometimes I can hear you—but
you’re always there—

Come here—rub my hips—
ten years of my life spent on
sparring Koreans—

 

The third day

Coconut ballsack—
no beating around the bush—
good as a shower—

They said 9pm
yesterday now it’s today—
lol cabin fever—

Fill up notebooks back—
maybe make another trek—
maybe I might not—

When you go to leave
babylon bring your guitar—
you’re gonna need it—

Super silver haze
crossed with extinct cultivars—
breathe vapor like air—

What is this mountain
vipassana on bluetooth
with oldschool bluetech—

The skies are blue now—
the earth iced over frozen—
stars shine on my face—

Saw some shit last night
I couldn’t even explain—
just soak it all up—

Let’s all just pretend
none of this is happening—
it never happened—

You could try to lock
me up but I’ve already
escaped from this place—

There it is between
the songs—the generator—
half-n-half went bad—

I like when you hit
a note and it relays all
over my body—

The effervescent
tingle atop my head
when it’s sung just right—

The busted canteen—
the gun metal pocket knife—
I know every scar—

Never got a tat—
didn’t see the point in it—
think they look cool though—

This reminds me
of Haruki Murakami—
bottom of the well—

When you are to wait—
deepest darkest you can find—
then pass through the wall—

The cat disappears—
then the cat one day comes back—
but where did you go—

Push up against it
until I no longer can—
face flat on the floor—

I was seeing stars—
like the atomic forces
starting to break down—

While the ink empties
these words they seem to fulfill—
let it wash away—

There are no more days
ever again in my life—
just like groundhog day—

Animism or
anxiety—I’m right there
with the frozen land—

Exoskeletal—
didn’t need it anyway—
cotton swab the nail—

I wear sunglasses
in the house—I’ve seen the light
in all it’s glory—

What comes from the ice—
breathing like the hemp dragon
Chinese festival—

We will not forget
no matter how hard you try—
ninja hashishins—

The voice of Hassan
I Sabbah in the desert
has become my own—-

Billie Holiday
with Henry J. Aslinger—
deathbed withdrawal—

Like we didn’t see
you move crack to schedule two
that was a while back—

Only reason left—
ignore it ’til it caves—
I’ll gladly join in—

Sometimes I wonder
if it’s even worth it or
I’m right where I am—

 

35 ppm

Found a nail
                 to hang it from

I sent the water
                back from where it came

It was circulating
                    pushing in the oxygen

Flashback to when we used
                                     to spraypaint poetry

The roads that went to nowhere
                                         they ran out of money

Pouring rain and lightning
                              the smell of pussy and the shins

Acacia sap they sent back
                           in candles she said

Mountain dew and indole
                                   tiny flowers in Big Sur

They started kissing first
                      it was only natural

Blue bioluminescence in the waves
                   of the ocean in the middle of the night

There’s a light on
               out there on the boat

There’s a light on
                        in here because of me

The sparks of the tow truck
                                  Toyota camry in the air

Floor it in reverse
                    spin around in the field

You could walk under powerlines
                           forever but you shouldn’t

We loved highway 9
                       like it was our beloved

We were only tourists
                                     just like everybody else

We’d wind up in the middle of
              nowhere goin’ how we ever gonna get back