Text replacement in Python a mod on Allison Parrish’s genderswap.py:
In the beginning Mom created the heaven and the earth.
And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of Mom moved upon the face of the waters.
And Mom said, Let there be light: and there was light.
And Mom saw the light, that it was good: and Mom divided the light from the darkness.
And Mom called the light Day, and the darkness she called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
And Mom said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.
And Mom made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so.
And Mom called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.
And Mom said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.
And Mom called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called she Seas: and Mom saw that it was good.
And Mom said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after her kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so.
And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after her kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after her kind: and Mom saw that it was good.
And the evening and the morning were the third day.
And Mom said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years:
And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth: and it was so.
And Mom made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: she made the stars also.
And Mom set them in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth,
And to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness: and Mom saw that it was good.
And the evening and the morning were the fourth day.
And Mom said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.
And Mom created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after her kind: and Mom saw that it was good.
And Mom blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the earth.
And the evening and the morning were the fifth day.
And Mom said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after her kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after her kind: and it was so.
And Mom made the beast of the earth after her kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after her kind: and Mom saw that it was good.
And Mom said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
So Mom created man in her own image, in the image of Mom created she him; male and female created she them.
And Mom blessed them, and Mom said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.
And Mom said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat.
And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so.
And Mom saw every thing that she had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.
I’ve come back to New York City, most recently from a place called Owego —also in New York. And like many small towns in western new york, it is very, very, cold.
Besides being very cold, it is also overcast, and generally, dark.
I was there, with my boyfriend, and it was my 30th birthday. And what is better to do on the first eve of your youth than to take a walk with your beloved, through the gravestones.
So we march up the side of the mountain by that small town to the cemetery. The cemetery there is old, housing graves from the civil war. They’re washed away by time, white and smooth as bones. Its so cold I can barely imagine human warmth, or any warmth, at all.
Surrounded by creaking trees and tombstones, my fingers like icicles, I think about warm fires in cabins, touching my love’s hands and actually feeling them.
I started thinking about stories my grandmother used to tell me about winter.
Deep in the forests of Northern Russia, an old couple, Ivan and Masha lived in a hut. Winter had set in and thick white snow covered the ground.
The old couple were both kind and hardworking but they were also sad and lonely, for they were childless and there was no-one to care for them or to help them through the cold winter.
Their days passed slowly, work was their only comfort.
Then one day, while clearing an area so they could chop some more wood, they began to heap together piles of snow. Remembering the games they used to play in their childhood, the old couple began to shape the snow into human form. By the time they had finished they were nearly frozen but the image of the young girl they had created was so beautiful, it was beyond description.
“Beloved,” said the old man, “this is our daughter Snegurochka.” The old woman smiled but as her husband turned away, there were tears in her eyes.
In the forest twigs crackled and snapped and the cold wind shuddered the trees. Deep in the glade stood Father Frost, watching the old couple.
Father Frost felt the power of their love and, decided to send them a daughter in his own spirit. He scratched his long white beard and pondered for a while before raising the great staff he carries into the air. A frizzle of magic ripped through the forest and Father Frost sent a piece of his spirit into the snow maiden.
The old couple were at home stoking the fire up when they heard three knocks at their door. “What strange guest is knocking on our door?” They opened it and there stood the most beautiful pale girl with skin as hard, and as cold as ice.
She was dressed in a long, light blue robe, its collar and cuffs trimmed with soft fur; her robe was covered in shimmering snowflakes. On her head was a hat of fur and snowflakes that looked a little like a crown and which sparkled like an icy flame. Her shoulders were covered with a cape of dark blue and on her feet she wore embroidered boots.
The old couple stared in wonder and disbelief, for there in front of them was their longed for child. Snegurochka came towards them and their hearts leapt with joy as the young maid said, “If it pleases you, I have come to be your daughter and will care for you as my mother and father.”
The old woman took the snow maiden’s pale hand and with great joy led her into the hut. As she followed the couple Snegurochka felt the trees and the beasts of the winter forest bid her a happy life.
Snegurochka helped with the chores and cared well for the couple. They could not believe their luck at having such a kind and beautiful child.
Despite her miraculous nature her parents worried about her, she was so quiet and pale; sometimes she seemed so frail as to be lifeless. But, there was always fire in her bright blue eyes and her smile would light up the forest on a dark day.
Snegurochka loved the trees and the creatures of the forest and would wander off to play secret games by herself. She was also a dutiful daughter to her new parents, never complaining and always doting on them, tho there was a cold distance in her eyes.
Two happy months passed and it was time for winter celebrations. The town streets, a few miles away, were alive with strollers and entertainers.
Happy groups of people sometimes passed through the forest on their way to town. Snegurochka watched the people through a frozen window pane of the huy. Concerned, the old woman suggested that Snegurochka should join the celebrations, for it must be very dull living all the time with an old couple. Snegurochka assured them she was very happy.
Then one day, as she was looking out of the icy window, she saw a young man and woman, in the glade where they lived. She saw them playing games in the snow, laughing, jumping and singing. She saw the bond that existed between the young couple, a and she was drawn to it like to a fire.
As she would walk in the forest conferring with the icy rivers and old trees, she could not stop thinking of the bond between the two young people.
She could resist no longer. The old woman, helped her put on her dark blue cape, and she went out to join the people walking towards the town.
It was not long before somebody saw the beautiful young lady standing on the edge of the town and Snegurochka was bid welcome. She saw the young couple and went to talk to them, but an unease made them draw away. Despite this, the crowd was captivated by her beauty and innocence.
From then on Snegurochka went out on the town quite often.
One day, as she enjoyed the bustle of the throngs of people, she heard strains of the most charming music. It was the song of a young shepherd. He was named Lel. Snegurochka moved closer to hear more. Lel saw the young maiden watching him play his flute and thought her very beautiful. He fell deeply in love with Snegurochka and they soon became inseparable.
The weeks passed and spring was approaching. Father Frost warned Snegurochka to keep away from the firey rays of the sun god which could kill her. She must always, he said, stay in the shadow.
As spring approached the people left their homes more often.
Whenever the young girls came out to stroll and to sing, Snegurochka would go with them.
Lel would run to Snegurochka’s hut, tap on the window and say, “Beautiful Snegurochka, do come and join us”. And she would always follow the sing song of his flute.
When she appeared in town, he never left her side. They would dance in the shade of the trees, and stroll around under the stars, but Snegurochka knew there was something missing, she knew she did not feel the way the humans did.
The more she thought of Lel, the more pale she became but, despite this, she went to seek out Mother Spring in the forest. She roamed it through and through and finally came upon a Milk Flower pushing through the snow. She asked if she could feel the special bond the humans felt. Mother Spring said she would grant her wish but, if she followed this path, she would surely perish.
Then, one beautiful morning, when the day had at last, become as long as the night, Lel came to Snegurochka’s little window and pleaded with her to come out with him, just once, just for a moment. For a long while Snegurochka refused to listen but, finally, her heart could no longer resist.
She walked with Lel to the edge of the birch forest. Where young people were dancing, jumping over and singing around fires.
“Lel, play your flute for me!” she asked.
She stood before Lel, and let the song warm her heart, she felt her arms and legs tingling. She listened to the song and felt love for the first time. She could feel her entire essence as tho it was floating away.
“Let’s jump over the fire together” Says Lel, and Snegurochka takes his hand.
With laughter and peals of joy they run and leap over the blaze but as Lel lands onto the Damp Earth there was nothing beside him but an icy mist, drifting upward into the blue sky.
As the snow maiden fades away, Spring spreads over the land: frost retreats and the small flowers of the fields began to bloom. Everyone is cheered by the return of Spring. Everyone that is except, the young shepherd who felt desolate and cold, despite the warmth of the sun.
As for the old couple, in their hearts, they had always known the magic could not last. They were thankful for the beautiful snow maiden who had brought such warmth and joy to their lives and given them hope in the depths of winter.
But what of the snow maiden? Well, it is said that, as she melted away, her spirit was caught by Father Frost who retreated to the north lands with the advance of Mother Spring. He took the spirit of his daughter across the stars to the frozen lands of the north, where she again took her old form of a beautiful young woman. Here she plays all through the summer – on the frozen seas.
But, each year in winter, Father Frost and the Snow Maiden come back to work their cold magic.
I looked through the creaking trees of the cemetery, amusing myself at imagining them there breathing the warmth of love into the ice of winter
Written at thearcticcircle.org in Oct 2016
In the very North of the world at the source of the world river, where the ice melts into the purest of the waters we drink here on Earth–live the Hunter and Elk Queen. This world of the North is the land where the Sun goes to sleep, and our souls go when we die, it is where all life comes from, and where all life ends.
The Elk Queen and the Hunter had picked each other, and so they stay with each other always. In fact, so strong is the trance they put each other in, that new creation does not happen outside of their domain. Everything we have here comes from the well spring of their love.
The Elk Queen has a magical power and that is that she can create life. Any kind of living thing she dreams; it comes into existence. She created communally distributed moss consciousnesses, photon fields whose distribution patterns act like mobs in town halls, crystalline flowers that seem to be changeless for millennia, entire universes full of organic and inorganic life, all interdependant and mixed in such a way that the whole thing is a single organism. She doesn’t always make these things on purpose, sometimes they just flow out of her as she walks or talks or dreams. Sometimes they’re the monsters of her deepest fears, sometimes her wishes and memories.
The Hunter meanwhile, has the power to give or take away immortality–he can make anything re-generate, and he can make anything die. They balance each other out perfectly–he makes her monsters come to their ends, or freezes them in time, he makes one moment of bliss last an eternity.
Together they play at making entire planets of eternal spring, they extend the brief moment of life flourishing on the surface of stars into forever. They take walks through black holes.
She makes him all sorts of offerings, just for him to play with. He guides and loves them from the beginning of their lives til the ends, and he is always, always with them. All the creatures in the universe feel his love even if they don’t know it. He can give us guidance when we are lost, and when we return to the underworld, it is he who is there to take us into his arms.
Periodically the Hunter and the Queen have to separate. Before she met her husband, the Elk-Queen lived with her Grandmother Zoya. Grand-mother Zoya is the origin of all love and joy in the universe, and when the Elk-Queen was young, she lived in her grandmother’s stories.
So, every spring the Elk-Queen leaves the great North to visit with Grandmother Zoya in the South. Grandmother Zoya lives on the very edge of the Southern forest where the world river re-enters into the North. On the way to her grandmother’s house life bursts and grows beneath the Elk-Queen’s feet, sometimes it dies immediately, sometimes it bursts and grows out of control.
There are all sort of strange things birthing and flowing from her wake, things all mangled and writhing together, sometimes even things that would normally be living worlds apart. But mostly they are things that belong together, things from the same dream. The creatures fight and twist and creep for dominance. They find strange corners of dirt and darkness to dominate, they bask opulent and luxurious and falling apart in lassitude and their own decay. They get sick and quickly deteriorate, or live long in luck and joy. They eat each other, even when they are of one and the same family, they steal each other’s skin for warmth They dance, drunk on the spectacle of life coming through their eyelids in a gruesome dance of violence.
Only once she passes by every bit of the world river does her grandmother’s house appear. Then they sit at the edge of the underworld, and visit together for three full moons. But what they do, and what they talk about when they sit together, is the subject of another story. Grandmother Zoya can only step with one foot into the underworld, and so at the end of their visit she stands on the edge, hugging her grand-daughter good-bye.
During this time the Hunter falls into a deep deep sorrow, and all around him is tinged in sadness and a dark stygian blue. But even then the creations the Elk-Queen makes come back to him, and every time he receives one, he recognizes it as the endless love she has for him, takes it into his kingdom and gives it all the love he has for her. Until one day finally, she is the one that comes back.
I was riding on an air plane from the end of the map, or perhaps an end of the map, to Pittsburgh thinking of how to tell you this story. This particular end of the map is located at the NorthWest most point in Washington State, and there are two very satisfying things about it. One; is that it has a rainbow totem at the beach there. And the other is that it is so misty that when you stand with your back to the rainbow totem and look out into the rest of the world, there is just a smooth even keel gradient, the kind your graphics card likes to render when you get to the end of the map, fading by steps, into a single color.
And so I am flying from there to here watching the stars above as the lights from the cities below flicker past. The stars below are so numerous they are occluding the stars above. To get to Pittsburg and tell you a story I have to fly through a fold of stars mirroring stars, twirling around each other, endlessly. We love the stars so much we are making our earth look as tho she is covered in them. The light coming from them reflects in the atmosphere and creates a nice even keel gradient fading by step by step, into a single color, making a kind of end of the map when you look up at the sky.
And so the stars are slowly falling to the earth, and I sit there in this moment, slowed down in time in a freeze frame of a giant explosion. It will take many more years for the stars to finish their descent, and meanwhile, I fly back and forth in between time zones and in between the Sky and the Earth.
The man next to me is picking out letters on a screen of jumbled text to make words, and the one behind me is stroking cartoon jewels. Every time one of these men makes a successful stroke a little plunk sound comes from one and a bing sound comes from the other. I am trapped in what would be a flying casino if you went by the sounds. There is nowhere for me to go and there is no end to the gameplay they have bound themselves into. My phone and laptop batteries are dead. And so I look into the thin horizon line of light between Earth and Sly and I start to imagine I fall asleep, and have a dream.
In my dream I see a great bird lay a golden egg into the horizon between stars and stars. As she lays the egg she becomes the fabric of the universe. The egg contains Birth and Love. Together they grow and break out of the egg into the empty universe around the fold. Together they make Earth and Sky.
They make the stars from birth’s eyes, and the darkness between them from his thoughts. They make the wind from his breath and snow and hail from his tears. Sky and Earth together make all the things we see around us. And somehow in this process Sky loses Earth tho she is right there in front of him. Sky searches the Earth for Earth but does not see her. In the distance he notices a little grey duck swimming above a dark hole in the water. He asks the duck if she has seen the Earth. Duck says that she’s down at the bottom of the Ocean. Sky asks the duck to go get her. The duck disappears and returns a year later saying that she couldn’t hold her breath any longer and asks for help. So Sky calls for Birth’s help, who blows a mighty wind, stirring up the Ocean, and the duck dives back down.
Two years pass and the duck returns saying, “I got closer this time but still ran out of breath.”
So Sky calls upon Birth, who brings a storm upon the ocean and shoots lightning into the duck.
Cyberorgduck dives down and is gone for 3 years.
After 3 years the duck returns with a branch in her mouth.
Sky takes the branch, rubbing it in his palms begins to command the forces of the world:
“Make warmth, Sun! Light up, Moon! Blow, Wind!”
All the elements come together, the wind blows the branch from Sky’s hands.
As it falls into the ocean, the sun shins, heating the ocean, as the water evaporates the Moist Earth appears at the surface.
So do the Earth and Sky live happily ever after? What part does the Ocean really play in all this? And what ever happened to love?
I found my dream rather suspicious and started to wonder how to break through this fourth wall of solid color that seems to insist on making it self present at the edge of perceptions.
And here my plane started banking and descending, descending below the horizon line onto the Earth’s surface yet again. I haven’t seen the stars since then for the city’s glow, and I wonder what combination of jewels I need to stroke or words I need to string to get past the horizon line and keep going? Is the space between stars really comprised of thoughts? And will I find pieces of golden egg shells when I wander through them?
Check one two
Check one two
Ah pe-an t-as ke t-an te loo
that melancholy among the most intelligent
until you say
“i want a fortune”
Characteristic features of parrots include
ne vas ke than sa-na was-ke
diminished wild populations.
.At which (smiling) he stops: a strong, curved bill
Parrots, along with ravens, crows, jays and magpies, are among the most intelligent birds
are true because they can’t be true
eat animals and carrion, while the lories
ing up a magical stick
lon ah ve shan too
Te wan-se ar ke ta-ne voo te
lan se o-ne voo
to conserve the habitats of some high-profile spieces
many of the less charismatic birds
subjected to more exploitation
this dingy cage: then with a ghost
‘s rain-faint wind-thin
than any other group of words.
— whereupon out (SlO–wLy) steps (to
several species inhabiting and
mount the wand) a by no
who lays white eggs
The most important components of most parrots’ diets are seeds
(riding through space
to diminutive this
opened drawer) tweak
S with brutebeak
in the same ecosystems.
one fatal faded (pinkish or
yellowish maybe) piece
of pitiful paper —
but now, as Mr bowling Cockatoo
proffers the meaning of the stars
40th road dis (because my tears
are full of eyes) appears. Because
only the truest thing always
mostly white to mostly black
Waves waft as will
How do you calm the will of man mother nature?
I don’t want to come in for dinner.
I will have none of your pacing
you can leave that trash outside
and I hope
of electron ocean swells
we crawled out
and criss cross double crossed
the streams of construct and creation
Please be sure to hit” R” as in Roger, between turns, it resets the game
Read at the presentation of “We Make the Weather” at Eyebeam Thursday January 31 2013
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lumens are the Metaphysical painting of our time
pixels are the Constructivism of our time
bits are the Art Deco of our time
arbitrary rules are the Neo-expressionism of our time
repetitions are the Pop art of our time
derivations are the Minimalism of our time
generative geometries are the Surrealism of our time
arrays are the Oprechniki of our time
vectors are the Color Field of our time
arbitrary rules are the Vorticism of our time
bits are the Deconstructivism of our time
lines of code are the Socialist Realism of our time
lines of code are the Automatistes of our time
iterations are the Pixel Art of our time
iterations are the Neo-Dada of our time
atoms are the Neoism of our time
pixels are the Modernism of our time
signals are the Space Art of our time
generative geometries are the Arte Povera of our time
arrays are the Academic art of our time
repetitions are the Arts and Crafts Movement of our time
vectors are the Romanticism of our time
generative geometries are the Abstract art of our time