21st Century Space Race of Sustainable Housing

“My version of the American Dream…it’s not about having stuff, although I do have nice things and I like them, what I like even more is time, time not to have to work to pay for a lot of crap that you probably don’t really need that you bought because you think you were supposed to have it. If you don’t have a mortgage and the taxes are low, how much do you really need to keep going?”

From the film: We The Tiny House People (Documentary): Small Homes, Tiny Flats and Wee Shelters by Kirsten Dirksen

Sustainable housing and the race to own is part of the fundamental underlying psychology of American and Western life. Making the shift is becoming tougher as the laws that govern mass society tighten their hold. I live in an apartment that is 18 (width) x 21 (length) feet. I've been living here comfortably with my wife for almost two years without complaints.

Read one of my recent publications on this theme at Outward Link

_________

With unspoken clarity, the Voodoo eyes of an Andean homunculus trespasses my mind with the depth of innumerable multicultural narratives; a grandeur of spiritual insight in the night of youth’s upbringing, synchronized in the silent sweep of imaginary play and the experiential divide of my true, hard-felt ascension atop a cavern mount of an empty and dark fate. Memory brushes oblong throughout the imperceptible, brittle light, a medium of failed intent in the thoughtful bondage of gross time. I look up, and to opaque, starless night.

Effigy Bottle by Anonymous (Recuay)

The human sky of night’s imagination dawns, as a cloth of plaster and wood, incinerating in the buzz of a static electric mire of projected brain, as follicles of neurons splay magically in a host of speechless disquiet, the air is pockmarked with the living breath of subconscious flesh downpouring its rain of enmeshed golden ash onto my waking perception with the rife torrent of singular mystery, the subtle crossing, tread between inner sight and the outer eye.

Travellers surprised by rain by Hiroshige 

The mountain seethes. My father’s forecast beckons truth from my brain, spouting a translucent passion, to see through the entertaining fires of apocalyptic forbearance. Yet, it is true, and in three days, the temperature rises through the Earth. The seas boil and the atmosphere blinds with stinging fright. The core, inflamed, invites solar lust in an embrace of human extinction. The rich, whose dire plans to descend into the safety of well-stocked caves, are burnt away as the fire breathes an exhale from below, and all else are incinerated with the dry lick of the inhaled flares of our sun, dying at an astronomical rate in a cloudless space of astral silence.    

________

We drank in the rains
        Big drops that fell like ignorance
        over the spout-stopped Manhattan rubber
                Atop the fashioned grave, splitting at the seams
                         To unravel the blistering mummified dives
                                  In the panegyric future
                                  of the African ankh

...
In the breastfed porridge soup American city,
        Our children bred to be poor
              After the Baby’s boom
              turns to the Baby-bust generation

excerpt from "Daily Bread: Drug of the Illiterate" 

To Read Is To Possess A Transference

"It is a regular observation that when you talk to an individual and this individual gives you insight into his inner preoccupations, interests, emotions, in other words, hands over his personal complexes, then you get slowly and really really into the situation of a sort of authority, you become a point of reference, you know you are in possession of all the important items in a person's development. Now you see, that creates an emotional relationship to the analyst, and that is what Freud calls the transference which is a central problem of analytic psychology. It is just so as if these people had handed out their whole existence and that can have very peculiar effects upon the individual; either they hate you for it or they love you for it, but you are not indifferent to them."

- Carl Jung, from "Matter of Heart" (Parts 4-5 on YouTube)  

________

A dream that will not drift from memory begins where I stand carefree in an old-fashioned English telephone booth on a paved street corner. There is a usual urban backdrop. The telephone booth curiously extends upwards as upon a ladder to unknown heights, yet I am unmotivated to climb it, especially as I am attacked on all sides! Furious, battered felines of all shapes and sizes, tattered and dusty, some with thick coats and others with scrawny short-haired bodies, skeletal and mangy fiercely claw at me. Their hissing and deviltry is a forewarning to my native sense, as I only barely escape their wrath, fighting them off after an intensely overwhelming standoff. 

________

Cat

“To dream of a cat denotes ill luck, if you do not succeed in killing it or driving it from your sight. If the cat attacks you, you will have enemies who will go to any extreme to blacken your reputation and to cause you loss of property. But if you succeed in banishing it, you will overcome great obstacles and rise in fortune and fame.

If you meet a thin, mean and dirty-looking cat, you will have bad news from the absent. Some friend lies at death’s door, but if you chase it out of sight, your friend will recover after a long and lingering sickness.” (iDream)

________

The willing sink in their seats.
Pure elements rain on the few.
They are felt, inspired.

The air is too hot.
It is dreamed with steam and smoke.
Waking is consumed with the taste of ash.

The Phoenix appears in ultimate silence.

Insects and weather play in hiding.
It is no theft, distraction, or hiding.
yet imbued with meaning.

Blink and you will see.

- excerpt from "An attempt at ethnographic science!"