The Book of Vasche Vexvelt

Visions on a Mud Ball. A Map Is Not the Terrain. By Moreno Franco

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Dystopian floating cities

“The Tourist” – by Ray Davies – from Other People Lives.
Wrong map. Wrong destination. Dystopian floating cities on the Desolation Road to the Mud Ball

Image: Courtesy of BLUME Music

We all make this mistake until we learn to tell the difference.
We imagine that the Map is “the truth” – and do not allow for possible changes that may have occurred since it was drawn.
We like to believe that people stay the same – even though experience and time will have changed them.
We hastily read the instructions on the bottle – without finding out what the two words that we did not understand, actually mean.

This is a photographic essay - Souvenirs of The Safe Amnesia of History

It is a testimonial. A testimonial in the form of a diary :: a diary presented as an exhibition of photos and textual material. A text that is of a statement, supported by photographic evidence – of all kinds and types. A photographic library, described as annotations. Extracts from letters written to you. Extracts from letters you wrote to me. About the Love In My Life, My life of love and loving. And my life of you that loved me – in spite of my own arrogant stupidity, And, of which I have so much to owe to that one particular Isis who brought me to Life, with her one single kiss.

I think to myself: “Verily, I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good because they had no claws’.

If I could only satisfy my desire to look upon this race of toads, lizards and vipers as my equals, it would be at least a consolation to me.

This Is My Song - Ésta Es Mi Canción

It is a theme of encapsulated moments – like Chinese boxes, each inside one a little larger...

The world contains a life, which itself contains a story.
The story contains dreams, predictions that came true, as well as those that failed. Detailed accounts. Accounts of imagination. Imagined outcomes. And outcomes resolved in reality’s harsh Light of the World – which cannot its-self contain these, for they appear to be too fantastical –

But Jokesters are all thru’ when they find themselves talking about challenges so real and immediate and appalling to their listeners, that no amount of laughter can make their listeners feel safe and perfectly well again. I have found myself doing this on several occasions. Not that I had enjoyed it at all, and yet I was there doing that .
A shock of recognition. And all “In the Frame” where I was just wondering out aloud, for instance. And all I might be talking about was how you might be screwing a person in the same way that your society was screwing the planet.

But then, to cap it all I patented Circular Irony.
You - of all people will remember that young boy from your skin close youth - and thus, in this manner prompting in my audience, a Shock of Recognition, like an aesthetic purging of the emotions by some Alienated Majesty, or even some Alien Dignitary.

Someday I’ll Find My Way Home.

Shadows of The Mind

I know YOU think life’s boring and dull, then try this. My Favorite Movies. Starring You. In the lead role. A saviour. Dominant. Submissive. The Patron Saint of Concubines. A girl of a woman. A woman in girls clothing. Deceptive as a girl in woman’s clothing.

A liberator who holds the keys to the prison. So that by the end we'll have more ways for me to be My own State Of Independence as a Fallen Angel .

In my life I have learned how to Wash Elephants, lived through more February Heat than most men could, or should want to. Or even have to. I believe in having Music to Watch life go by, and every song I hear, reminds me of some moment.

I have lived with the Girl From Ipanema, for most of my life, in what ever form you took.

Brunette, Raven, Blonde, Hazel, Red, Platinum. . . you were always there, your skin of glass and a body like the streamline tireless motor of the limousine
You were on the back of my thundering Honda. You travelled in my Blue Biscayne, You slept with me on trains and travelled with me on planes. You were with me at The Tropic of Capricorn:

you, Solitary and Burning in all my life, my Dona Conchita. You.

Young girls are a great art-form, but one requiring exhausting study and application. I should know.
You were the first. I studied and painted you when I was still a young boy. And you were not wearing a brassiere yet.

You know I have almost lost my mind: because of wanting You, the Impossible. Almost lost all hope because of You, the Self-Righteous.

And once because of You, the Selfish. I should like to explain but the thought is gone again.
Impossible, you can never be to blame for circumstances in which we are bound.

Selfish, I will always cherish the memory of our love, but you know that your actions have removed you from my future, despite your almost monthly protestations over the years.

Righteous, be so for I have a preference for righteous people to be so. . . but not in my time and my life

Yes! I wish to promote a science of discontent Questions of Science. Science and progress. No one said it was easy. No one said it would be so hard, either.

Look at it this way. Look at me as a man who went out for a walk in the hills. . . and when he returned he was never the same again. And You? You know me. . . you know better. You know me like a brother, and any one who counts themselves as one who knows me, should know this:

I sit and talk to God – and he laughs at my jokes. And I too, Laugh at his.
I tell God that we have only our selves to use as a model for conscious function.
God tells me he used the same model.

“I just want to be loved as I am. I just want to feel real love in the home that I live in” . . . sings Robbie Williams in his Dec 2002 release. . .
And I think to my self that I have been fortunate - but not yet fortunate enough to have been loved by The One .

A Cancer I Never Want to Be Cured Of

“Unhappiness is the state which occurs in the human when wants and desires are not fulfilled”.
Life In My Fathers House

Then I had you, as my Andromeda, on that rock of out in the secret Eden green fields of our youth, my sweet olive. . .
The world is the same in a relative way. . . but we’re older

I dreamed you. I dreamed you so much – you saturated my life, facets of you pervading all of those other you’s. Out of the Stars, Like Dust You surround me.
I became a Celebrity. That is, I became well known – because I was well known. My sharp wit and spontaneity in Conversation!:: created the space I needed when I showed that A Dragon Makes Its Own Jokes.

Questions of science. Science of progress. . . what comes to mind is a line from Friedrich Nietzsche, in his "Thus Spoke Zarathustra":

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