Liikkeen kuja, umpikuva*

"Labyrintin muoto on eri paikoissa ja eri aikakausina sama,

mistä voidaan päätellä."

Mutta nämä ensinäkemältä niin lupaavat tulkintamahdollisuudet osoittautuvatkin vain porteiksi, joiden takaa alkoi labyrinttien labyrintti, jossa jouduin umpikujasta toiseen, aina ensin pitkään kuljettuani ja luultuani, että olen oikeilla jäljillä. Nämä umpikujat olivat luonteeltaan hyvin erikoisia: yksi käytävistä päättyi esimerkiksi valtavan sakeaan puluparveen, joka selvästikin jatkui ad absurdum; toisessa umpikujassa taas päädyin aivan valtavaan, siis todella valtavaan, kasaan housuja: miesten ja naisten, alus ja päällys; kolmas umpikuja taas oli pohjoismaisen keskiluokkaisen pientaloasunnon olohuone, jossa oli sairas isoäiti ja kaksi alle kouluikäistä lasta, jotka leikkivät piilosilla oloa; neljäs umpikuja oli magnetofoni, viides oli muurahaiskeko, kuudes oli jonkun minulle täysin tuntemattoman tietokonesuunnittelijan juuri muotoutumassa oleva uusin idea, väreilystä päätellen ilmeisestikin merkittävä. Ja se viimeinen umpikuja oli sitten aina tämä huone, jossa minä olen.

"Kivenlohkareen alta löytyy ensin solki,

ja lohkareen takaa luolan suu."

"aiheen rajattomuus takaa tuleville antologisteille loputtoman saran"

VITTU MÄ VIHAAN PUNKIA

raskolnikov felt sick
but he couldn't say why
when he saw his face reflected
in his victim's twinkling eye.
some things you'll do for money
and some you'll do for fun,
but the things you'll do for love
are going to come back to you one by one.
panopticon
parsons, t.
pastoral power
penal reform
phenomenology
pinel, s.
political economy
population
positivism
poulantzas, n.

POWER AND CLASS
POWER AND REPRESSION
POWER AND RESISTANCE
POWER AND STATE

prison
psychiatry
psychology
psychopathology
punishment
...and penal torture

* Kun kirjoitin "umpikuva", viittasin niihin umpeutuneisiin kuviin, joiden merkitys on jo a priori määrätty.

"Frigidi mies kohtaa alituisesti frigidiksi tehdyn naisen." Kai Laitinen, teemmekö tästäkin biografisen päätelmämme?

Vaikuttaa hyvin perustellulta, että Jeesuksen aikaan, kuten muinakin aikoina.

Hes 44 luku opettaa, että papeilla tuli olla lyhyet hiukset. Herra Jeesus on Uuden Liiton Ylimmäinen Pappi ja vanhan liiton esikuvan mukaan myös Jeesuksella.

Naisten hiukset ovat pitkät ja yleensä letitetyt, miesten taas lyhyet.

HERRA JEESUS SINÄ YÖNÄ JONA HÄNET KAMMATTIIN:

OpenROAD

Google-runoutta 1 / Google poetry 1

cxz game machine
cxz game machine mac
cxz engine

sadetutka
fsadm
fsadm you don't have a license to run this program
fsad

kjh comp
kjh rakennus oy
kjhj
kjhjg

rjvdevughtsehoeve.nl
rvd university
rjvd vastgoed
jvd -togo

wpsl 1590
wpsl teams
wps soccer

ny5s
5s5v-wwbh-ny5s-cyjt rld0
5s5v-wwbh-ny5s-cyjt rldo

04732 weather
04732 vorwahl österreich
04732 vorwahl
04732 telefonvorwahl

6666 games
6666 customs
6666 kuhmoinen
6666 customs gt rodeo special

++machi recipe++
+++ バナナイス
++ 記号
++狼の遠吠え++

Hakusi - !! - ei vastaa yhtään sivua.

00000 helsinki
00000 ssi
00000
00000f

laueofnsayuf
laufen aufwärmen
laufen auf luft
laufen auf high heels
laufen auf englisch

laueofnsayufgnw
lauren yung
lauren yung melrose place
lauren yung melrose
lauren yung wiki

google is shite
google chrome is shite

larry page is shy

sergey brin is batman
sergey brin is
sergey brin is jewish
sergey brin is worth

eric schmidt is a surprisingly worried man

I think the context is the same

Kyse on luonnosta, mutta jostain syystä tuuli muodostaa hallittuja 

geometrisia kuvioita kaislamereen.

Russian Classics from A to T

There lived a redheaded man who had no eyes or ears. He didn’t have hair either, so he was called a redhead arbitrarily. He couldn’t talk because he had no mouth. He didn't have a nose either. He didn’t even have arms or legs. He had no stomach, he had no back, no spine, and he didn't have any insides at all. There was nothing to speak of! So, we don’t even know who we’re talking about. We'd better not talk about him any more.

Once Orlov had too much crushed beans and died. And Krylov died too, when he found out about Orlov. But Spridonov died of no reason. And Spridonov's wife fell off a kitchen cabinet and died too. But Spridonov's children drowned in a pond. Meanwhile Spridonov's grandmother became an alcoholic and went on the tramp. But Mikhailov ceased combing his hair and got ill. And Kruglov sketched a lady with a whip and went mad. And Perehvostov received a wire for four hundred roubles and became so uptight that they fired him. Good people are not capable of getting a good foothold in life.

Because of her excessive curiosity, an old lady fell out of the window and smashed into the ground. Another old lady looked out of the window, staring down at the one who was smashed, but out of her excessive curiosity she also fell out of the window and smashed into the ground. Then the third old lady fell out of the window, then the fourth did, then the fifth. When the sixth old lady fell out of the window, I got bored watching them and went to Maltsev market where, they say, someone gave a woven shawl to a blind.

They say all the best tarts are fat-arsed. Gee-ee, I really like busty tarts, I love the way they smell. Having said this, he started to increase in height and, upon reaching the ceiling, he crumbled into a thousand little pellets. The yard-keeper Panteley came, swept all these pellets up into his scoops in which he usually picked up the horse muck, and he carried these pellets away somewhere to the back yard. And the sun continued to shine as ever and splendiferous ladies continued to smell just as ravishingly as ever.

On one occasion a man went off to work and on the way he met another man who, having bought a loaf of Polish bread, was on his way home. And that's just about all there is to it.

That night was to decide if she and I were to be lovers. Under cover of darkness no one would see, you see. I bent over her, it’s the truth, and as I did, it’s the truth, I swear it, I said like a kindly parent: “Passion’s a precipice – so won’t you please move away? Move away, please!”

Without finishing his sentence, he dropped asleep and slept like the dead.

I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though.

I want now to tell you, gentlemen, whether you care to hear it or not, why I could not even become an insect. I tell you solemnly, that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to that.

The night was dark, dull, and cold; there was a sensation of rain in the air. To my great surprise I found no one under the oak. I walked about for some time.

And she came directly toward us, she walked, too, as though we were not in front of her, as though we were not in her way. Therefore none of us were in her way, and coming out of our circle, without turning to us, she said aloud, and with indescribable contempt: "Rascals!... Rabble!"... Then she went away.

None of us found anything to say in reply and we remained in perplexity as before.

Is this Jesus?