Extinction Chronicles - Thursday 16 October 2o25 ·

 "The more things change, the more they remain the same" - old french proverb ·

I have very nearly made the mistake .  .. (began my last entry to which i must now contradict); just took a toke and am preparing for the ‘mother of protests’ on oct8teenth which may very well seal the fate of our species¡! listening to Bob Marley & looking forward to hearing “Get Up Stand Up.” I have a medical examination on the day of sat8teenthoct which i am hoping becomes a collaboration of healing. I’ve developed a painful bulge which follows the inguinal canal which corresponds to a hernia 20 year old hernia repair over the femoral articulation of a decaying the deterioration of the head of my right trochanter. a number of outstanding questions preceding the bulge @ my groin along a 20 year old femoral hernia repair of the left inguinal 

The surface of an arthritic right trochanter head is characterized byloss of smooth cartilage, formation of bony outgrowths (osteophytes), and changes to the underlying bone. This leads to a rough, irregular surface where the natural smooth, gliding action of the joint is lost, resulting in bone-on-bone contact, joint space narrowing, and potential subchondral sclerosis (bone hardening).             

 

“I’m all worn out from public service.” - Bob Dylan · ‘Ain’t Talkin’ (Alternative version)

Creatively a wonderful day, scarfed a sourdough, kimchi, parmesan, garlic, plantainita, frijole negros refrito (processed); mustard and Valentina salsa (processed) and proceeded to leave out the inspiration for my repast, a fresh carton (plastic) of alfalfa sprouts. In this ‘hyper-efficient’, swallowing inline burst of turns out to be Vitamin K, dense nutrient (good to avoid prior to hip replacement for ‘K’ promotes blood clotting - blood blots being an impediment to successful pelvic prosthesis installations. The commentary is more zeal than manic ‘acting out’ - Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Am standing while writing, aiding the strength stamina of the gravity bearing muscles of the ‘horse posture’ from tai chi, although just now my fatigue is more manic because my ‘perpendicular’ thighs are quivering at a 30 ˚  incline, the amusement of manipulating an eyeball of the ascii “kilroy” found near the end of this essay being used to delineate degree because i am too disinterested to learn rtf lingo for such niceties is almost Kafka-esque in its murky irony, but fun is where ya’ find it, non¿

“”¿(º ㄥ _º)? ’ “” 

Then again ‘it’ lacking the all important antecedent of ‘polite society’, itself a mythological conceit that again seems to lack a referent, though mostly based on it’s naked greed passing as ‘largess.’ I’d be curious to learn how much the cessation of pain i feel writing in a prone position on my mattress-fee fleece-rich/faux-futon bed is fatigue or a creative dopamine-rich exhalation long overdue¿ That is a question for those new to these Exchrons’. Bob Dylan - “Time Passes Slowly” #1 (Alternate) is playing in the background adding to a poignant filmy bohemian haze promenading across my screen as i wait for answers from Dr. Juarez; self, et. al., Moments from 6:00 pm; am fed, shooting for normal 4:oo-5:00 am ‘Revile’ to prepare for long Saturday that is expected to include; a medical fast until 3:oo pm, a journey to Centro to support a 3.5% PROTEST rule; then ‘Off to See the Wizard’ after which i’ll return to ‘where there’s no place like it - Home’

1) why did my pelvic trouble manifest in 2o15 or so, as an unexpected buckling at the knee on my right side - commenced drinking/smoking after 10 year hiatus Montevideo, Uruguay · at times excessive to stringently curtailed 50/50 until 2025 · SAF

2) what is the cracking-knuckle sound which i wanted to share with the chiropractor/orthopedist/traumalogio in Viet Nam 2o21 after rupturing a disc lifting a garafon of water while bent 45˚  at the waist under a staircase?

3) is degenerative osteoarthritis included in Dr. Gabor Matès impaired autoimmune and emotional repression conjectures?

4) did my morbid obesity at the time of my laparoscopic appendectomy distort/create fascia adhesion in 2oo5 ? if so, how ¿

5) what effect will the 7,312.5 miles i ran between 2oo5 and 2o15 have on my healing

(((3.75 miles x 3.75 days per week) x 52 weeks per year) x 10 years

6) is the onset of incontinence a new feature of my rapidly modifying pelvic girdle¿ 

fri 12:12 pm oct 17 2o25

must’ve peed with increasing pain every hour last night; after day break i wet myself twice for good measure while making coffee, watering the grounds and cooking diuretic vegetable gruel to prepare an empty alimentary canal for the unknown of the morrow; so you can appreciate my dismay when blood was left in my first stool sample of the day, followed by enough blood from my urethra to hock a pint size ’lugey - this is where the narrative grows peculiar, for while gathering my ‘bug bag’ and wondering how to educate myself on the normalcy of a loin bulge, saenguination, and whether i’ll be able to pass the bolus of parmesan & sprouts i had wolfed while panic attacking the ‘windmill’ of my decaying trochanter head and what defeats liver flukes who might come lodging with their ovine hosts where my laundry gray water pours into the earth - and i now have two clean trouser kits, however damp they might be before i leave to meet my fate in the morning  

stay tuned; for i hear .  .. ... Robert Johnson - “Malted Milk” is coming down the pike; followed closely by “Slow Leake” - Lafayette Leake; Chess Blues 1954-1960 (Disc 3) 

 

(meanwhile, please help yourself to any creative vagaries below which may have piqued your curiosity) ·

(˚ ㄥ _˚)                    

jts Tuesday 16 October 2o25

http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com 

http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com 

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com

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Extinction Chronicles - Tuesday 14 October 2o25 ·

I have very nearly made the mistake, of once again, attempting to intervene my fate by surgically accepting a prosthesis advocated by pain and promoted by an avaricious medical industry aping the financial ‘captain’s of industry’ which have brought our world to the brink of destruction. This hasty ambition to augment or alter materially my body's natural decay even though standing here writing upright because in the process off averting the what i am increasingly coming to believe is a physical decay brought about my own slack, sedentary, entertainment-addiction habits, contrasted just now by the confusing visual haze i try to reconstruct a full five years after cataract surgery - fracaso on top of fracaso · no es sano .

So now i will reorganize my ambitions once again to fit the ever shifting world i so very much want to understand. Just no my desk is raised, my waist wrapped with a selendang, faja, sash. Though i’ve reconsidered the hip replacement surgery, my internal abdomen is, as the rest of my ‘gifted anatomy’, lopsided. The leg length discrepancy i had convinced myself was the result of a collapsing pelvic girdle from a fall off the back of a flatbed truck shifting coral for a breakwater in the Philippines sometime after 2011 - the year my father died. My working theory has been from reading somewhere that pooling blood at an articulation will create inflammation that leads to arthritis, in my case degenerative osteoarthritis; but this is where it all gets dicey.

My ‘working theory’ is from not having real access to medical consultation - Madam Paradox and her whelps · T’is and Tain’t, or what Bob Dylan touched on with the lines, “Every man’s conscience is vile and depraved, when it is he must keep it satisfied;” A closer look at Ommnism yields correspondence with Taoism, ‘not every failure is unfortunate’; the Dalai Lama’s observation that sometimes it is good fortune to not get what you seek; and confirmed again by the ‘Sage’ Oscar Wilde - “Be careful what you ask for, you might get it.” My battle is to remain honest about my motivation, is my reluctance from fear of yet again surgical intrusion, or is what i am experiencing an existential maturation freeing my mind from indoctrination from a medical industry that has demonstrated time and again its orientation of ‘profit over well being’¿

Nor is profit always the impediment of honest application of medical strategy over a patient’s well being. Take for example my consultation or attempted consultation with the mental health representative in my ‘healthy existence’ construct. My fantasy always has been since the first day ma dragged me into her constellation of denial about her reasoning for abandoning her marriage in favor of the fashionable conceit of ‘Divorce’ a la “Bob and Carol; Ted and Alice” - entertainment of my youth ostensibly raising pertinent questions about the rising tide of marital dissolution during the ‘go go’ 1970s ‘merica, but more likely supporting the ‘ruling class’ message/massage that has grownup around the voracious ‘lack of intelligence’ in H.L. Mencken’s ‘merica. In short, the psychologist in question rather than responding to what i reasoned was a pertinent  request for ‘more time’ after a long overdue x-ray revealed the decay of my trochanter and likely basis of a decade of pain - she, simply ignored my request.

And she remains a compassionate caring individual - it is the system of disinterested expertise i am taking exception to, not to mention my own hubris and myopic self-righteousness about personal behaviors. What seems missing from the landscape is a sense of good will and confidence about the essential nature of existence - it is a miracle, and there is fuckallwecandotochangethat · try as we might. So now at 3:00 p.m. i have managed to wash clothes that then dried in the sun, left money for a Dr. who asked for nothing, and who was available to my confusion, procured unsweetened chocolate, repaired the clothesline stick; fashioned 5 paragraphs of gobbledygook, and facilitated the extension of a sash which will likely contain my innards well enough to allow me a more patient informed decision about my pelvic girdle than what i found upon waking, as well as comforting an old, old friend about a spate of furtive reaction-formation she’d walked into when my inter-generational ‘pollyanna’ attempted to vicariously comfort a dying sibling who has mounted quietude as her steed for the next great adventure - death.    

at this turn i’d settle for a glimpse of how to aid the 7th generation removed from where i stand ..  .         

 

stay tuned .  ..     

until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·

(˚ ㄥ _˚)                    

jts Tuesday 14 October 2o25

http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com 

http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com 

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com

prohibited from AI sampling in any forml

reprinted with permission; all rights reserved

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- Tuesday 23 September 2o25 ·

 

Yesterday morning 5:30 am or so - i swallowed 3 grams of a dried plant that had an orangish cap and a dried stringy stalk · the taste was not unappetizing, nor was chewing an arduous task; it was a very interesting morning. I finished up the morning journaling my therapist who is helping me with assimilation and various aspects of aging in a foreign country during great worldwide upheaval; (she is a very understanding human being). I then walked to deliver a level i had borrowed to verify that in fact the floor where i live is sloped, and my balance or lack thereof is within limits. I also stopped to visit with the ’Simi’, Doctora who has been very gracious and wise conducting medical procedures of an ‘allopathic’ nature. In the process of walking, I was heckled by my detractors, cleaned the dog leavings from the storefront my young friend/compadre whose mother is keeping the nascent enterprise afloat while he works through existential issues; took smack from local store owners who still chafe at gringo ‘inversion’ and y who apparently remain unsure how to channel their ‘xenophobia’; some who modeled their’s while living within the “Belly of the Beast”- Uncle Sam’s very own lair - “The land of Milk and Honey”.

I fell asleep physically exhausted; spiritually at ease; psychologically at peace but still wondering how my organic supplement ight affect sleep patterns that have been ’tweaked’ since my TBI in Bakersfield CA @ the end of 2o23 just before my return here to Oaxaca. When i did fall back out after my ‘pee break’, i slept through to early morning closer to my internal ‘alarm’ than i’d been able to in months. I was still ‘metacognating’ as i am given to perseveration from early on - filling in the wee nocturnal hours with puerile ‘reaction formation’ about issues of impermanence and death with emerging literary conceits encouraged by my father’s liberal concepts of appropriate literature for 8,9,10 .  .. year olds - truth be told, Ma’s own eclectic interest in all things ‘book’, had as much bearing on my mental formation as Pop’s very self-consciously aberrant intellectual pursuits.

Now pushing 10:30 am the following day, i feel the same calm which arrived with me from whatever region of the ‘near and far’ i visited yesterday. As a very visually cued individual, i’d like to explain the parameters using descriptive language, but as close i seem able to get is the anatomical weaving of somatic awareness; for example, my discipline late at night is to resort to deep breathing, certainly in some twisted ‘wishful thinking’ about my dissipated youth and bouts with the demons of smoke inhalation, be that as it may, i also have empirical experience with the onset of abdominal hernias as manifest in the tender regions of healing my infernally ‘strong’ stone cutter’s physique - (i can only imagine how reading that feels, from having to write it¿).

I’ve long abandoned the uniquely human conceit of anatomical symmetry, and am in the throes of formulating a ‘unified theory of wounds’ based on the I Ching’s apt passages describing the blindness of what what one cannot see behind one’s back. This hunger for understanding is warranted during our human corruption of knowledge when ‘experts’ trumpet how much we can see with the new-improved digital lens in space, yet for me to explain to my well-versed brother about what i meant by ‘obtusize’ a mildly acute internal angle on a poured concrete staircase sandwiched by brick walls and ceiling to an interior auxiliary bathroom in the highly mold-susceptable clime of the city in the clouds where i now call home, i had to fotograph the puddle with my ‘stupid’ fone, in order to take a ‘photobooth’ shot off of my laptop, because walking items up and down stairs in my multilevel domestic heaven precluded the possible drop of my laptop while trying to negotiate morning errands with ‘arm’s full’ - if that make any more sense than ‘obtusize’, than i am improving as a ‘communicator’ of Horace’s obscure.

Part of the impulse to use myself as a ‘laboratory rat’ has been to gain a better sense of the internal and external reality of perception. By all accounts as the son of an inveterate ‘existentialist’, to the extent the possible corruption of solipsism infecting my objectivity caused psychic disquiet. Nor am i any closer to the ‘eureka’ of is that all there is¿ However, i more than welcome the ease one gains from being at peace within one’s skin, whether as a result of foreign substance, the outcome of mental discipline foreswearing the flimflam that constituted the interludes of Sheriff John or Jimminy Cricket’s anomalous efforts to inculcate a population with ’wisdom’, while simultaneously reconciling the very real possibility of anonymous incineration:

at this turn i’d settle for a glimpse of how to aid the 7th generation removed from where i sit ..  .         

 

stay tuned .  ..     

until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·

(˚ ㄥ _˚)                    

jts Tuesday 23 September 2o25

http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com 

http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com 

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com

prohibited from AI sampling in any form

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∞

- Sunday 21 September 2o25 · hapybirtdayfieldcommanderCohenr.i·p*∞

Dog yapping; plastic, and dirty assholes: Europeans, Vietnamese and South Americans allowed themselves the convenient investment/industry of folding drying racks while others are consigned the fate of clotheslines, mechanical dryers or other capitalist deficiencies in the name of 'civilization' - why is that¿ what is it about plastic and filth that seems to draw one to the other? anybody who has picked up enough trash knows exactly what i’m talking about, almost as though a plastic bag is a ‘dirt magnet’. I’m wondering if polyester cloth behaves the same way which is why the ‘extraction economy’ is so big on eliminating cotton from the market place; the dirtier the cloth, the easier it is to flog ‘chemical additives’ to brighten ‘dingy’ clothes? pretty sinister thinking for a Sunday‘ Tamale Day’. 

Yet, what if it is not so sinister to look into the face of a planet besot with war, greed, inequality - all of which are easily attenuated behaviors of a quiescent population distracted by mind numbing __________fill in the blank? (that is a question) What if the ‘lord god capitalism’ is just another fatted calf in the long lineage of demigods and self-serving rulers looking to extract the most for the least - what if ‘ReignaReigna’ the tamale lady is closer to the bone of reality than ‘google generations’ of Elonys or Donnys and all their circumstantial wealth or computing capacity¿ (another question)

What got me thinking about this was the difficulty in maintaining personal hygiene, be it physical, spiritual or even audio. Anybody who has hand washed enough of their own laundry knows how much more difficult it is to remove a stain from polyester cloth, or been driven to distraction by the incessant volume of modern electronics - almost as though every aspect of modern life is, rather than designed for human ‘wellbeing’, created for the convenience and enrichment of another class - the unspoken class; the ‘fascist class’ of parasites? (another question, however much inferred - still a question)

The more this premise, however unlikely or even permissible is used to parse our existence the more certain events begin to make sense ‘unwin-able’ wars, inequality for some: excess for others - answers without application. Still the specter of the ‘on high’ wisdom, the ‘justifiable reasons’ for violence to: women, children, other races; education to what end? because for all the expense and sacrifice our education and knowledge has cost our species, the end result does not seem to serve any purpose except for more and greater oppression and deceit.

Is there a secret formula, or is it as Thich Nhat Hanh et.al. have said - “The way out is in.” My father was a fan of existentialism amongst other intellectual curiosities. As an adolescent intensely interested in all things my father looked at, I tried to understand this philosophy. “Pop what is existentialism?” - “Well son, it is the belief that each choice you make represents a choice for all other human beings.” It wasn’t until much later when the convergence of Balinese Hinduism and the logic of Omnism began to converge in my thinking - my understanding of which is simply: humankind represent spiritual forces that are engaged in a great battle between ‘good and evil’, our human contribution is represented by our ‘acts, dharma, existentialist behavior, atonement, reverence etc., etc., etc. tipping the scale one way or da’ other.

stay tuned .  ..     

until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·

(˚ ㄥ _˚)                    

jts Sunday 21 September 2o25

http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com 

http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com 

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com

prohibited from AI sampling in any form

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- Saturday 20 September 2o25 ·

 

How; what steps to take; why to eliminate ’self’ from the equation; when does it become now; where do we go from here?

Thich Nhat Hanh used volition as the lever mechanism to lift the world, but was also able to conflate the perspective of ‘self and other.’ I’ve no doubt the discipline of Buddhist thinking is a boon to the possible future of our species, yet the contradiction of being mandated to rise at 3:oo A.M., separate by gender are all regulations from diverse faiths including the Balinese Hindu; school of Syble in Costa Mesa, or the rice paddy Couple Loving of Viet Nam; (4:oo A.M. like clockwork, one would rise and motor off returning minutes later, with without peeping out my curtains, could only surmise one had fetched Coffee, for the ‘later sleeper’), how’s that for fictionalized fantasy posing as fact¿

The point is each loving habit in the long history of human kind creates a wake, or ring of positive influence, for as much as rising early in Viet Nam, manifested some ease, so does waking in Bali to a ‘continental breakfast’ on the veranda, while the corrosive counterpart of what i’ll dub the “Kirk Effect” (deal in rancor, you’ll find it or it you), is certainly true: it’s not rocket science, so why does our reasoning species continue down the roads of ‘greed, rage, discursive reasoning in service of chaos’¿ why @ 7:oo A.M. straight up am i jonesing for a whiff of the spliff, when after so long a preparation and so short an executing period would i allow myself the distraction if in fact my ambition is to create¿

In the ever evolving, chain of monkeys swinging through the trees of my mind, simplify comes more and more to the fore. ‘Holding forth’ is not what develops positive results, yet the prospect of encouraging a following is as equally distasteful; for example, the further i get from caring much whether these words are ever read and accepting of that outcome, the easier it becomes to cast off the extraneous and excavate for the core of meaning, nor am i quite sure why. How much to pare? is ‘activity’ the false idol our kind has been indoctrinated into obeisance. If that is true someone will have and uphill battle convincing my father had a nefarious objective in his ‘Jesuit Training’ of my mind or that despite her ‘lunacy’, Ma was not as humbled as any saint by the results of her existential experience.

I’m beginning to think garlic and bitter chocolate are at the core of existence, but if you partake too much like ‘noise’ it creates dissonance, rather than consonance. But i digress, if in fact i am trying to communicate by my efforts the same as a singer, musician, painter, dancer, philosopher or other active human does how do my efforts not result in more dialogue or exchange of ideas? Why does it always seem as though people i share my work with are not encouraged to attendant expression i.e. ‘that stinks’, ‘how grand’, or ‘what in the hell is it¿’

Or when i find myself most disaffected, why is it more often when another is demanding my attention? Is it reaction formation/projection for an unaddressed hunger for attention, if so is it an ancient hunger as the psychologists contend¿ where is the font of curiosity that will yield the magic distillation of questions/answers. Moments ago, i was formulating an argument opposing “formulas”, yet here i sit like the sated Cookie Monster, gorged on the endorphins of accomplishment for the simple fact i woke up and wrote a ‘five paragraph essay’ - go figure, or as Albert said “make it simple, but not simpler.” 

 

until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·

(˚ ㄥ _˚)                    

jts Saturday 20 September 2o25

http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com 

http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com 

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com

prohibited from AI sampling in any form

reprinted with permission; all rights reserved

∞