brother do you smoke?

hey i'm fukky risotto and we're here today in leap 2020 with sadoo diaper so i guess the obvious question diaper is have you leapt?

i've leapt, i leap, i'm leaping

it's really all about leaping

leap day, leap year, leaping - they're with us

hear you're in the land of sadoos

never leave

what's it like?

you know those times as a child you're alone in bed at night - mommy and daddy or daddy and daddy or mommy and mommy or mommy or daddy or monster and monster have finally left you alone and the lights and moon are out and you're staring at the ceiling wondering if this is going to be one of those nights you're going to pee the bed or even maybe leave a little turd and ...

... not really

sort of like that

makes one wonder why you maintain your sadoo certification

freedom eh. tout est possible

you seem rather obsessed with the bosphorus

in the realest senses the bosphorus like leaping's everywhere. and the bosphorus one crosses and this means something

crosses in the way the christians do or death sometimes does?

what i mean - it's difficult to explain ... it's not necessarily a border crossing in the manner of mixter sharits. it's more the way you cross a leaping. the bosphorus is a strait but it's not straight - that's a crossing. it crosses continents and waternents - asia, europe, mediterranean, blackness : the bosphorus has it all

you seem a bit more unhinged than usual

difficult as the frame and door are lost. what to hang from, what to separate, protect? an important thing here - and the sadoos i've been talking with across asia agree more than usual on this one - is the question of whether we leap over 2020, through it, into it, out of it, under it ... or something else

oh you are into your prepositions

a preposition's a leap and crossing. there is no boss for us, bosphorus is here

that's beautiful



what then do we do?

do?

doo

i am the cat man

who are we?

we are the catdoos, we do the sadoo, we leap the phosborus, we cross the 2020

nice chatting with you as always

endless poetry. you've been to poe land?

do you think as many effectively do that the ageing - i'm thinking those broaching 60, unless of course they have money or power - should be exterminated? i mean they've had their chance and not only obviously haven't made it but at this point won't make it. can't

absolutely. but not necessarily in the way you think. the 50s - regardless of one's socalled status in the human social world - should be a time of identity extermination, of declinging. for those naturally who've been practicing declinging for a long time this will just be part of a continuous process. for others it may leave them babbling in alleys or actually kill them. this is linked to a core broader action plan which merits urgent implementation : the top 30% of human polluters and top 30% of meat eaters - there'll be some overlap of course - should disappear from the universe immediately. a kind of rapturous (for the earth) derapture. an additional benefit of this policy is the removal of many of our political and economic masters who are intent on leading us to disaster. then notice should be given to the remaining that in 6 months' time the next 30% of both categories will be lopped. and so on until humans are behaving sensibly. i don't like fear as a motivator but nothing else is working. this combined with the ageing exterminating themselves in the way i'm suggesting will lead to sensible contextual behaviour being desirable, actionable, and encouraged instead of what it is now - punished, mocked, incarcerated, slaughtered, silenced

sounds reasonable

the bosphorus is a kind of loss circus recursos mythos for everything - it empties, it leaps, returns, it has poetic energy

and what about the young?

the young will always be with us

i'm not sure we're any further ahead

exactly where we want to be

i don't know diaper, i've got a consortium to run, think you're too far down the rabbit hole

the rabbit hole doesn't exist - only rabbit holes. and we're all down different holes ... the languages, mores, social cues, emotional proprieties, currencies, taboos all shift depending on which hole you're in. and we're all hopping around saying we're not in the hole or we've got the one true hole ...

... i thought we were leaping not hopping

it's hop day now, want to have a beer?

now we're talking the same language diaper

so fukky and diaper ambulate over to mitho for some lethes and bump into doktor jood pier who's forgotten something too and the 3 old friends (if that's what we call them) hop and leap and leap and hop and cross the bosphorus again

dao de jing x

when carrying on your head your perplexed bodily soul can you hold in your arms the one and not let go?

in concentrating your breath can you become as supple as a baby?

can you polish your dark mirror and leave no blemish?

in loving the people and bringing life to the state are you capable of not resorting to knowledge?

when the gates of heaven open and shut are you capable of keeping to the role of the female?

when your discernment penetrates the four quarters are you capable of not resorting to knowledge?

it gives them life and rears them

it gives them life without claiming to possess them

it is the steward yet exercises no authority over them

such is called dark virtue

dear tens,

isn’t the answer to all six questions, no? and how could there be a yes other than among those anachronistic gurus and enlightenment charlatans, who uphold a light virtue, a knowable goodness, a complete knowledge, an effective practice. we are all dao and one and two and three and many. we are polypolar, each of us, and those who process their innumerabilities into a mask of monism walk against dao and even if their names are nailed to some wall of honour yet they will not survive in the coded dream. true, some are more of dao or one, some more of two or three, some more of many and dao, and such is diversity

but show me the one who holds the one and does not let go. not the one who claims but the one who does not. not the one who manages appearances and performs that magic but the one in its everythingness, in all its unseenness. anyone with a bit of practice can become supple for a moment, maybe a day. but suppleness held becomes a rigidity. the act of polishing is itself a blemish and the dark mirror shows nothing – that ruse. loving and governing are actions. the role of the female has been rolled. we now don't know and know enough to know of the knowing of not knowing and the not knowing of knowing. i play with words you say. words play with me. there is no other play. and even the stages of cruelty and absurdity and gesture are plays of words, words bare and marrow, spurting their ruthless truths

yes i am capable. yes i can hold and become. yes i can not know and keep and love. even as i play a fool of dirty energy and cast the shifting cast of my wandering breath, unfocused and confused, across the mirrors of myself

for the only one is the one we cannot grasp, being too many ourselves, possessing myriad hands at diverse purposes, having become comprised of a limitless knowledge bound by flesh's merciless spherical court, its shadowy walls, gloamed lighting, its axe

the river rushes faster as it nears the ocean. and who could stay still in the current? who could be silent in the ever-open theater of words? 

oh you of daoless dao – for dao is too far from us now (and was as soon as it was uttered) – who slips and doesn’t resort, whose blemishes are uncountable and unmeasured … we cannot see your virtue, we do not know your name, we cannot walk your way