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Freedom of action as opposed to freedom of speech. The finality of night and remembrance of destiny; the dream if the universe.

Fine words, but so what? Byron embraces the prospects of free movement in the field of human activity. Life is action; so says the poet and do says the poet of the cinems, Jean-Luc Godard. Animals use their bodies with affection, or to protect the young, or to swiftly kill and feed self and young.

Byron's description of a Venetian peasant he took into his seraglio bears comparison.

The reasons for this were, firstly, her person- very dark, tall, the Venetian face, very fine black eyes.. She was two-and-twenty years old.. She was, besides, a thorough Venetian on her dialect, in her thoughts, in her countenance, in every thing, with all their naïveté and Pantaloon humour. Besides, she could neither read nor write, and could not plague me with letters..
She was a fine animal, but quite untameable. I was the only person that could keep atall keep her in order, and when she saw me really angry (which they tell me is a savage sight), she subsided.
(Letter to John Murray, page 696,697)

This is s fine example of the affinity of differences; psychic autonomy produces strength, and strong things like each other (see Howard, Outremer, prev.) Weakness breeds distrust and the authority of "led debils" - our Martian masters of words that become numbers, the expressive algorithm (ones and zeros).

Here is a scene that reminds me of Helene from Talbot Mundt's Tros of Samothrace from Hyborian Bridge 18. It's swift, lucid, fired-off with nary a thought and pitch-perfect to the moment, living in the moment.

I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross herself if she heard the prayer-time strike- sometimes when that ceremony did not appear to be much in unison with what she was then about.
She was quick in reply; as, for instance- One day when she had made me very angry with beating somebody or other, I called her a Cow (Cow, in Italian, is a sad affront and tantamount to the feminine of dog in English). I called her 'Vacca'. She turned round, curtesied, and answered, 'Vacca tua, 'Celenza' (is Eccelenza). 'Your Cow, please your Excellency.'
(Page 699,700).

The active movement of grace and charm where life is an active pursuit (of women, of game, of the horizon on a horse), where Man lived like an intelligent animal, and not like a detached head attached to an intelligent machine.


Another sequence that has slapstick resonances of yore.

Metal Humour 1979, La Planete de Dr Cache (homage to Verne's The Island of Dr Moreau), Tendre/Hé 

In the pursuit of action, in an active society, there are sexual frissons that spark gusto, and equally antagonism.

MH, Adventure Chez les Grecs, Pertuzé

The ancient world is built on action first and foremost. From action springs poetry, history, and from that springs the choice of words that breeds an orator. The classical era that Byron came to represent.

Our society is the exact opposite. It is passive and words are a substitute for action. Words become numbers, and numbers become the expressive algorithm (ones and zeros).

In the modern kingdom of words attached to machines, of zero physical action, the physique can't be denied and the result is physical boredom, the sterile compulsion towards numbers (see Grace Slick HB62/1).

This is the Black Sun of illusion that shines where the sun don't shine. Where there is no natural movement, expressive of the body in the field and the joy of physical pursuits (P120), there is unnatural movement.

Unnatural movements are born of unnatural science. The symmetries of animals that are abandoned by GM food (see prev). The psycho-sexual area of DNA that could breed meat in the womb.

Man is meat with a brain attached unless he is physique first and foremost; the symmetries and fantastic balance of proportionate physique. The harmonics that are grown in the womb; of woman born.

Turning this on its head is a recipe for unnatural science, for treating Man as meat first and foremost (why else keep Schumacher alive, since the psyche is gone?)

The physique cannot be denied by unnatural science, and the result is psychotic compulsion, the desire to cut and separate into compartments, whereas only the whole body functions as a psychic entity.

The desire to cut, to treat the body as meat first and foremost, is well illustrated in the same Metal Hurlant bis by Pascal Doury.

The story starts out as a western-type duel between two office-workers with big hair (no resemblance to Trump?)

William manages to kill his opponent, but

Doury portrayes cramped office-workers in fantastically unnatural contortions of body. The body has zero freedom of expression, while the head mouths fitfully (compulsively?) Forty years on and this is the reality we face in a world unrelated to physical action (the hunt, Diana of the marvelous movements)

William is hospitalized, and in this situation psycho-sexual manifestations appear.

The unnatural guise of the body in its compartmentalized state. Finally there is an erotic dance, and another cutting frenzy.

What I'm getting at is the body is unthinking expression (Bruce Lee). One can't think a dance; that would be bizarre. The womb is a harmonic place. A leaping whale feels joy unbound from its muscles to its spine.



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