Tosh's Journal: August 31st (Meditation on Power)

TOSH'S JOURNAL

August 31st



Power. I love power. There is something so beautiful about the nature of power in that at the end of the day, all that matters is… power. The people who tend not to like power are the ones that usually are not fit in that position or have a role in power. Also oddly enough they appeared to be getting fucked on a regular basis. They're almost wearing a sign around their neck, saying, "Kick me." But also keep in mind in the role of society, you need these pathetic people, because they will always take abuse, and on times, thank you for it. They can usually survive due that they can always find another loser among the ranks that will help them out. One thing that weak people are good at is finding other defenseless people. What they share is their hatred of those who are entitled. In fact, it is virtually a mania for these people. The more that they express their contempt for the powerful, the more powerful I get. It is just like a broken water pipe during a drought. They blame the neighbor watering his lawn too much, but meanwhile, they sheepishly accept the real-power-to-be and become bullies themselves. It never fails, in that, they are frustrated by those who control their lives, but they will take it upon themselves to make a fellow citizen feel the blows of their world.



It is usually a huge gesture that makes the powerless feel even more helpless. Public, almost random, executions always drive them batty. They run back to their shabby homes and frown in front of their computers. If you overload them full of rotten images, they usually become numb to them. Excess is my perfume; for another, it can smell like shit.



Nevertheless, my role is intended to be an entertainer of sorts. I am dishing out punishment as much as favors. My philosophy consists of keeping them guessing. It is sort of like being behind a mammoth recording mixing board, and you control the sounds in that room. More vocals, but to do that you have to lessen the cello player's input. He or she will complain, but when the moment seems almost too bleak, throws them a bone. They'll gobble it down with pure happiness and a sense of regret.



They say power adds a certain amount of isolation. This is true. I have put numerous prisoners through solitary confinement, and the irony is, I too put myself in that state of mind. I basically like people to have sex with, and the ability to master their lives. This gives me great comfort at the end of the day. For Love, I have assorted animals that I am quite fond of. I never mistreat an animal in my life, because I know by their nature that they will if they are given the opportunity, eat me up.



On the other hand, people reason themselves for survival and therefore rarely strike back in a consistent method. If you consistently push and push a crowd or a group, they will eventually fight back. The thing is the fact that they are so frustrated and so full of false pride, they will do something quite futile, like using a useless weapon of some sort. Once they are doing that, then I can bring the army in and crush them. Not enough to destroy them, but sufficient for them to experience the power of my will.



I allow elections and a governing body into my reign of 'pleasures. 'However, I make sure that they are either voting for Heckle or Jeckle. The best policy is to ensure that each party fears the other. Therefore a voter will vote out of fear for the other person, and they will never vote for what they desire. In a democracy, even a fake one like ours, people tend to vote in a negative fashion. They fear the other politician because so-of-so, but the fact is both parties are the same thing. Which again, by the end of the day, is intended to support yours truly. All I can say is let them hate (me) so as long as they fear (me). Whatever becomes of me, it will just be my body gone, therefore, and for all purposes, I live. - Tosh Berman.

August 31, 2014

August 31, 2014

Power.  I love power.  There is something so beautiful about the nature of power in that at the end of the day, all that matters is… power.  The people who tend not to like power are the one’s that usually are not fit in that position or have a role in power.  Also oddly enough they appeared to be getting fucked on a regular basis.  They’re almost wearing a sign around their neck saying “Kick me.” But also keep in mind in the role of society, you need these pathetic people, because they will always take abuse, and on times, thank you for it.  They can usually survive due that they can always find another loser among the ranks that will help them out.  One thing that weak people are good at is finding other defenseless people.  What they share is their hatred of those who are entitled.  In fact, it is virtually a mania for these people. The more that they express their hatred for the powerful, the more powerful I get.  It is just like a broken water pipe during a drought.  They blame the neighbor watering his lawn too much, but meanwhile they sheeply accept the real-power-to-be and actually become bullies themselves. It never fails, in that they are totally frustrated by those who control their lives, but they will take it upon themselves to make a fellow citizen feel the blows of their world.

It is usually the huge gesture that makes the powerless feel even more powerless.  Public, almost random, executions always drive them batty.  They basically run back to their shabby homes and frown in front of their computers.  If you overload them full of rotten images, they usually become numb to them.  Excess is my perfume, for another it can smell like shit.  Nevertheless my role is intended to be an entertainer of sorts.  Dishing out punishment as much as favors. My philosophy consists of keeping them guessing.  It is sort of like being behind a mammoth recording mixing board, and you control the sounds in that room.  More vocals, but to do that you just have to lessen the cello player’s input. He or she will complain, but when the moment seems almost too bleak, throws them a bone.  They’ll gobble it down with pure happiness and a sense of regret.

They say power adds a certain amount of isolation.  This is true.  I have put numerous prisoners through solitary confinement, and the irony is, I too put myself in that state of mind.  I basically like people to have sex with, and the ability to master their lives.  This gives me great comfort at the end of the day.  For Love, I have assorted animals that I am quite fond of.  I never mistreat an animal in my life, because I know by their nature that they will, if they are given the opportunity, eat me up.  On the other hand, people reason themselves for survival and therefore rarely strike back in a consistent method.  If you consistently push and push a crowd or a group, they will eventually fight back.  The thing is the fact that they are so frustrated and so full of false pride, they will do something quite futile, like using a useless weapon of some sort.  Once they are doing that, then I can bring the army in and crush them.  Not enough to destroy them, but enough for them to experience the power of my will.

I allow elections and a governing body into my reign of ‘pleasures. ' However, I make sure that they are either voting for Heckle or Jeckle.  The best policy is to ensure that each party fears the other.  Therefore a voter will vote out of fear for the other person, and they will never vote for what they desire.  In a democracy, even a fake one like ours, people tend to vote in a negative fashion.  They fear the other politician because so-of-so, but the fact is both parties are the same thing.  Which again, by the end of the day, is intended to support yours truly.  All I can say is let them hate (me) so as long as they fear (me).  Whatever becomes of me, it will just be my body gone, therefore, and for all purposes, I live.

June 13, 2014

June 13, 2014

I’m a member of the Rhymers’ Club, which is a bunch of us poets who get together to read, write and recite poetry to each other.  It’s a private group, and we often meet in complete secrecy.   From time-to-time we have made a journal, but the printing is only enough for membership and no one else.  So in other words, we produce literature for only ourselves and no one else.  Everyone in the group is obsessed with keeping the poetry as pure as possible.  To be honest, I’m even forbidden to discuss or write about this group, even in this journal.  Nevertheless I feel compelled to expose myself, because when you come upon such perfect moments, I have a tendency to want to share them with someone.

The Rhymers’ Club started in London about 125 years ago, where meetings took place in various private homes and pubs.  Ever since then there is a secret signal between members where they shake hands, but one member scratches the palm of the other’s hand, by their middle finger.  Sometime identities are covered up either by fake names, and in some cases, by wearing a disguise.  I remember in our last meeting, one of us was even dressed up as a woman, not in a sexual sense, but just to throw off anyone trying to find out the identity of the figure.  It has been rumored and almost common knowledge among its members that the Irish poet W. B. Yeats was an early member of this group.  In fact, he may have organized the first meetings, and invented the secret handshake among its members.  Oscar Wilde was rumored to be a part of the group as well, but there is no solid proof of that.

The meetings, to this very day, are arranged by the throw of the dice.  If certain numbers come up, that is the date for the get-together.  An ad is placed in a publication announcing the date, time and location for the meeting.  Of course, all of this information in the ad is under a secret code, that can only be read by its members.   Usually by a rhyme of some sort.   Last night I went to a meeting at the 321 Lounge at Taix, where we have a table reserved for the group under the name “Basil Rathbone.” Once there I approached all the members with the secret handshake, and then we got down to business to discuss the poet Fernando Pessoa.  In each meeting we agree to discuss a specific poet, and debate about their work.  Afterwards we share our poetry, and each member can read up to five poems to the group.   We discuss the work, and eventually make plans to make a journal, which again, we only print up enough copies for the group and no one else.  The journal is called “The Rhymers’ Club, ” and we also encourage its members to either save each issue, or destroy it, to make sure it doesn’t leave the group.

Every so often there are poets in the group, that are quite famous, but not for writing poetry.  The comic actor Paul Lynde was a member of the group right up to his death, and he was once on a TV program called “Hollywood Squares” where he often gave messages on the show for the members.  Of course it was coded, and for anyone listening in, they would think they were just listening to a joke, but that was not the case whatsoever.  It has been stated within the group that Lindsay Anderson’s film “O Lucky Man” is a coded version of The Rhymers’ Club” and that the film’s star Malcolm McDowell who wrote the story, may have been a member,  but more likely his father who owned the pub, where some of the secret meetings took place, either was a member himself or at least knew about the group.

What is still an ongoing rule for the group is that only males can belong to The Rhymers’ Club.  Occasionally we allow only one woman in our meetings, and this only started when legendary photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue was part of the group.  It was almost a fetish for him to bring an attractive woman to the group’s meetings.   Ever since, for tradition sake, we permit one member of the group to bring a woman of his choice into a meeting.  But she is not allowed to participate in the discussion nor in the readings of the poetry.   Also her identity is not exposed to the members, and she is often just called “The Muse, ” among our members.

We do have a membership card, but it has no name or wording.  It is an image of King Ludwig looking over Richard Wagner as he plays the piano.  For whatever reasons, we don’t know why this image was chosen.  It has been rumored that Yeats himself chose this image as a membership card, to be used to announce oneself to another member.  Secrets are the foundation of our culture.  We must keep them.  After reading this, please destroy it.

TamTam Books' Cinema: "If...." by Lindsay Anderson

If.... by Lindsay Anderson and starring Malcolm McDowell.   I think I was 14 years old and hated my Junior High School with a great passion.   And then I saw this film, and it changed everything for me.  Now YouTube has it and its the full length film.   Watch it and love it!