Friday, April 30, 2010

Windmills

Zdzislaw Beksinski

Death by a thousand cuts
Put to sword the prince of cups
Ripples in your amoebic puddle
May never touch the outward moving sides

But paddling yet with every pore
Hoping to never see the impeding shore
His armour rent from inward rust
His weapons out of date

Columns of statistical chemistry
React to the horseman’s sad decline
Track his fall across weathered palms
Where life-lines run in parallel

Here the coconut oil for carnival stalls
A bikini beach for atom souls forgot
Here the diet of food for thought
Leaves silhouettes of everything that I’m not

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Monday, April 26, 2010

View from the Treetops (26 Apr '10)

On the Tip of My Tongue

The Escapist ~ Eric Fortune

People say “Oh you’re just being cynical” as if cynicism diminishes the significance in what has just been pointed out.

At present there are 147 ‘followers’ listed on that little widget thingy on the sidebar; a reasonable audience you may be tempted to think. Not so - as one who prefers to know what reality is dealing me, I check my sitemeter traffic regularly and know that of the 60 – 70 daily visitors the vast majority pass through looking for pictures on Guurgle’s image search. The somewhat sad fact is that there are, at most, 5 regular readers here.

“a grand sweep of your inner and outer landscapes”
Harlequin’s comment on my last post sent my mind racing down all sorts of alleyways and dead-ends.
Her comment is, as always, encouraging and deeply appreciated, I am well aware that she is one of a small number of genuine followers of The Far Queue. And while I will continue to protest to the fact that I write for my own benefit, this is not entirely true.

The cynic in me laughs at the vanity of exposing my ‘inner landscape’ (while the mystic fool in me can still feel like the eye of the storm on a busy city street; if there is vanity in that, then vanity is a bitter pill for the socially inept.) but while cynicism is my rudder in a world where politicians would sell sub-prime mortgages to their grannies, it does not work well when directed inward since it deadens the taste buds on the tip of the tongue; the ones that are programmed to taste hope.

Standard televisual fare dishes up half-wits cooking meals for one another and proudly exposing the selfish indulgence of their own ugly lives, or self-righteous estate agents preaching the gospel of diy capitalism to the home-obsessed hoi-polloi.
Depressing?

Sagittarius and I watched some television the other night – the current_ channel: one of those free channels that you skip past with no expectation.
The programmes, usually on a country theme, follow the format of ‘ordinary’ people making reports from around the world:
a pair of young Americans go to Mogadishu to investigate political situation in Somalia
a young woman reports on a Methodist minister who gives shelter to Zimbabwean refugees in Johannesburg;
a piece on a young American Jewish woman who helps run an orphanage in Khayelitsha township for children ‘infected and effected’ by AIDS, she reasons that AIDs has killed more people that the holocaust and the world virtually ignores it.
Depressing?

These reports presented me with people who felt the need to do the right thing, without the need to promote themselves as anything other than serious about the world in which they find themselves.
I swallowed my cynicism, unable to find purchase, I tasted hope.

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I Became a Prostitute ~ The Twilight Sad



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Inventing Disorders
By EVELYN PRINGLE


Of all the harmful actions of modern psychiatry, "the mass diagnosing and drugging of children is the most appalling with the most serious consequences for the future of individual lives and for society," warns the world-renowned expert, Dr Peter Breggin, often referred to as the "Conscience of Psychiatry."

"We're bringing up a generation in this country in which you either sit down, shut up and do what you're told, or you get diagnosed and drugged," he points out.

Breggin considers the situation to be "a national tragedy." "To inflict these drugs on the growing brains of infants and children is wrong and abusive," he contends.

The kids who get drugged are often our best, brightest, most exciting and energetic children, he points out. "In the long run, we are giving children a very bad lesson that drugs are the answer to emotional problems."

Dr Nathaniel Lehrman, author of the book, "Coming Off Psychiatric Drugs," believes that giving infants and toddlers "powerful, brain-effecting psychiatric medication is close to criminal activity."

"Giving them these drugs," he says, "has no rationale, and ignores the basic fact that youngsters are very sensitive to their environments, both social and chemical, with the juvenile brain easily damaged by the latter."

During an interview on ABC Radio National in August 2007, Dr David Healy, the noted British pharmacology expert, and author of the book, "Mania: A Short History of Bipolar Disorder," told reporter Jane Shields: "Just to give you a feel for how crazy things have actually got recently, it would appear that clinicians in the US are happy to look at the ultrasounds of children in the womb, and based on the fact that they appear to be more overactive at times, and then possibly less active later, they're prepared to actually consider the possibility that these children could be bipolar."

On April 9, 2009, Christopher Lane, author of the book, "Shyness: How Normal Behavior Became a Sickness," published an interview on his Psychology Today blog with Dr Healy. In the interview, Healy explained the history behind the drastic rise in the sale of anticonvulsants and antipsychotics as "mood stabilizers," and the diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

"The key event in the mid-1990s that led to the change in perspective was the marketing of Depakote by Abbott as a mood stabilizer," Healy tells Lane, and further explains:

"Mood stabilization didn’t exist before the mid-1990s. It can’t be found in any of the earlier reference books and journals. Since then, however, we now have sections for mood stabilizers in all the books on psychotropic drugs, and over a hundred articles per year featuring mood stabilization in their titles.

"In the same way, Abbott and other companies such as Lilly marketing Zyprexa for bipolar disorder have re-engineered manic-depressive illness. While the term bipolar disorder was there since 1980, manic-depression was the term that was still more commonly used until the mid-1990s when it vanishes and is replaced by bipolar disorder. Nowadays, over 500 articles per year feature bipolar disorder in their titles."

"As of 2008, upwards of a million children in the United States—in many cases preschoolers—are on "mood-stabilizers" for bipolar disorder, even though the condition remains unrecognized in the rest of the world," Healy points out.

"But there is no evidence that the drugs stabilize moods," he says. "In fact, it is not even clear that it makes sense to talk about a mood center in the brain."

"A further piece of mythology aimed at keeping people on the drugs," he reports, "is that these are supposedly neuroprotective—but there's no evidence that this is the case and in fact these drugs can lead to brain damage."

Healy says the FDA's decision to add a black-box warning about suicide to SSRIs likely had little to do with the switch to prescribing antipsychotics as safer for children. What "was quite striking was how quickly companies were able to use the views of the few bipolar-ologists who argued that when children become suicidal on antidepressants it's not the fault of the drug," he points out.

"The problem, they said, stems from a mistaken diagnosis and if we could just get the diagnosis right and put the child on mood stabilizers then there wouldn't be a problem," he explains.

"There is no evidence for this viewpoint, but it was interesting to see how company support could put wind in the sails of such a perspective," he says.

Because having just one label was very limiting, Healy says, child psychiatry "needed another disorder—and for this reason bipolar disorder was welcome."

He reports that the same thing is happening to children labeled with ADHD. "Not all children find stimulants suitable," he advises, "and just as with the SSRIs and bipolar disorder it has become very convenient to say that the stimulants weren't causing the problem the child was experiencing; the child in fact had a different disorder and if we could just get the diagnosis correct, then everything else would fall into place."

A report titled, "Adverse Events Associated with Drug Treatment of ADHD: Review of Postmarketing Safety Data," presented at the FDA's March 22, 2006, Pediatric Advisory Committee meeting bears witness to Healy's explanation by stating in part: “The most important finding of this review is that signs and symptoms of psychosis or mania, particularly hallucinations, can occur in some patients with no identifiable risk factors, at usual doses of any of the drugs currently used to treat ADHD.”

Between January 2000, and June 30, 2005, the FDA identified nearly 1,000 cases of psychosis or mania linked to the drugs in its own database and those from the drug makers themselves.

The antipsychotics are just as dangerous as the SSRI antidepressants, Healy says. "Long before the antidepressants were linked with akathisia, the antipsychotics were universally recognized as causing this problem," he explains in the Lane interview. "It was also universally accepted that the akathisia they induce risked precipitating the patient into suicidality or violence."

"They also cause a physical dependence," Healy states. "Zyprexa is among the drugs most likely to cause people to become physically dependent on it."

"In addition," he points out, "these drugs are known to cause a range of neurological syndromes, diabetes, cardiovascular problems, and other problems."

"It's hard to understand how blind clinicians can get to problems like these, especially in youngsters who grow obese and become diabetic right before their eyes," Healy tells Lane.

As for what he calls the "medicalization of childhood," in the radio interview, Healy points out that "children always have been unhappy, they always have been nervous, but that's actually part and parcel of being a child."

"You have to go through these things," he said. "This is how we learn to cope with the problems of life."

Children can best be helped in the safest way, he says, "if they're just seen and if they actually have the opportunity to talk about their problems, and if they get basic and sensible input about how to perhaps help them cope with these problems."

Healy said it's important to remember that severe mental illness is rare in children and that most children with a mental health problem do not need medication. Children are being picked up and put on pills "who really don't need to be on these pills and who are going to be injured by them," he warned.

"I think possibly 10 to 15 years up the road," he told Shields, "we're going to be looking at a generation of children who will have been seriously injured by the treatments that they appear ever-increasingly likely to be put on now."

But the administration of multiple drugs at once complicates the situation so that it may be impossible to determine which drugs are most responsible for the adverse reactions children experience, according to Dr Breggin.

"Because so many doctors and so many drug companies will share the blame for mistreating these children, they will be unable to seek redress against individual perpetrators through the courts when they grow up," he explains.

Evelyn Pringle is an investigative journalist focused on exposing corruption in government and corporate America.

(This report is one of a series of articles focused on the rising rates of psychiatric drugging in the US and is sponsored by the International Center for the Study of Psychiatry and Psychology)

via Counterpunch

Friday, April 23, 2010

Timberline

The Invisible Bust of Voltaire ~ Dali

Out there where the statues gaze out at newsreels.
In here where my chest is a cage for ideals
Out there where the wolves howl at the queues
In here where my spine is for keyboard reviews
Out there at the oil-enriched acid-etch dude-ranch

Here where the truth is the heart of the lie
Where conspiracies race for the courage to fly
Here where go-getters do what they’re told
Where ideology stops and is melted for gold

In here where the square peg fits in a round black hole
Out there the where the planets conspire to dissolve
In here where the bells have been pealing forever
Out there where sirens call ships to the river
In here with the hollow statue carved out of flesh

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Monday, April 19, 2010

View from the Treetops (19 Apr '10)

Surviving the Journey


It’s not what you think about music that counts, but how you feel about it.
On an intellectual level, music is a complex synaptic key that opens the mind to that abstract space where we connect with ourselves.

This said, I no longer consider it necessary to intellectualise music – its primary function is, after all, to be experienced.

My life is that unaligned with the realms of the sensible world that I find myself spending 20-25 hours a week travelling to and from work. By travelling I do not mean the suicidal task of driving on the ghost highway, but travelling on trains and on the Underground.
Public transport, in theory, cannot be faulted; in reality the transport system in Inglan is incompetently run, creaky, under-maintained and crowded. Travelling on the Piccadilly and Central Lines during peak hours often involves enforced breath exchange between strangers.
When trapped in a crowded cylinder of orange metal some distance below the surface of Metropolis the flight portion of fight/flight response is useless; levels of aggression rise in response.
Under these circumstances, being in possession of an iGod packed with music is essential.

Listening to at least 4 hours of music a day has, for me, no negatives, but does require a large amount of music, a fact which sees me trawling through Amazona and raiding my son’s increasingly obscure collection for fresh meat.
The outcome is that I have discovered that, contrary to the popular belief among those of my vintage, music is far from dead – I have rediscovered my passion for new music; not just new in the sense of now, but new to me.

When it comes to music I can usually tell after one listen whether I’m going like it or not but 20-25 hours of travelling means that if it’s on your iGod, you’re likely to give it a few more chances before dismissing it completely as another kissed frog of the non-prince variety.
The upshot of this is that I have fallen in love with much of the slow-burner type music that requires some familiarity before the hooks embed themselves properly.

All that travelling isn’t as bad as it sounds.

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Hope Sandoval & the Warm Inventions ~ Suzanne


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Driven by the Demons of Progress


Those of you who have your site on blogspot may have noticed the Gurgle have recently added the facility to add static pages to your site.
Much of my weekend has been spent (to the chagrin of Sagittarius) trying to force this facility to obey my wishes. The hawk-eyed among you may have noticed the new tabs below The Far Queue title banner: ‘Soup Kitchen’ is a little bullshit thought experiment which I will attempt to grow over the months. Given the limitations of the static page facility I have decided not to include the ‘comments’ option but if anyone feels strongly enough to want to comment on what is there then please feel free to contact me on piscesblog at hotmail dot com.

Friday, April 16, 2010

The Law of Deminished Returns (Again)


The room was small and basic and for company he had the ragged edge of static from the radio – white noise for dark thoughts.
He slipped his hands through the hoops to access the program, momentarily disorientated by the transition.
The system clock read the same as yesterday; unable to jog itself free of the Möbius loop subroutine that had infected it during the levelling.
The Internal room was a closed system, contained within the mainframe in the other room; the eternal ports sucked pix-light into the vacuum – there was nobody out there.
She spoke into his neo-cortex, the usual self gratifying litany of encouraging aphorisms
Everything’s going to be just fine
There’s nothing to fear
Another day in limbo.

The room was padded with memories and for company the static rose and fell - waves against the shores of his thoughts
He slipped his hands into the hoops and the room spun away.
The arms of the clock hung down as they always did, disinclined to continue the charade.
The inside room was clean and warm; no light in the windows – there was nobody out there.
Everything was going to be just fine.
Peachy.

The room was designed to hurt and for company the static rubbed the walls smooth – abrasion for ragged nerve-ends.
He slipped his hands into the hoops and he slipped away unnoticed.
The clock was in distress but there was nothing he could do about that since who knows when.
Inside was where he wanted to be even though he knew there was nobody out there.
Everything was gonna be just fine.
Just fine.

The room had nothing to say; neither did the static.
He slipped his hands into the hoops and stepped away.
Time is an abstract, capable of eternal silence.
Inside they had moved the furniture around just to mess with his head.
Everything was just fucking Peachy.

Rewind.


Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Monday, April 12, 2010

Viral Geography


“Do you believe in God Martin?”
That was the pivot that landed me here; a god with no power but the contents of my mind.
Looking back through the reverse end of this telescope the specific acts that brought about my departure from one reality into another surely must be backtracked to the moment I was picked up by The Mantra Ray. Previous to that moment I had been on the treadmill doing what I did without real reason to question my position in the universe.
It is sometimes said that your life follows the consequences of your choices, whether active choices or choices by omission; that you end up where you choose to end up.
It would be comforting to me, here on my throne, to believe that chance played a large role in my life.
This uncomfortable chair tortures me daily with questions that I would previously never have had the constitution to address.
Some may find a delicate irony in my trajectory; some might say a poetic justice.
Perhaps it was a random sequence of events that led to an inevitable conclusion.
Perhaps it is a conclusion that, in a random universe, was bound to come into fruition merely by some law of averages.
No matter the mathematics or quantum physics that constitute cause, choice, preordination or random chaos, the resultant symptom left me between two tectonic plates, metaphorically speaking.
In actuality, I found myself suspended face down in the cargo hold of The Mantra Ray with a head full of Stat and shit welling in the legs of my suit.

Friends of the Queue: I hope you don't mind my using you as Guinea pigs. This is the opening page for Decaying Orbits (as it stands) and I would appreciate some critique - does it serve as a suitable hook? Don't be gentle with me, I need perspective, not love

Friday, April 09, 2010

The Hook From Which You're Hung

Max Ernst

You are no vessel for your charms;
their high flying feather frightened
by the beach shell-cockled ear
From the ragged ends of arms display
cascade the broken synapse
that reconnect in dark array

Now apple cores for your mind’s eye,
lizard skin and red dust devils
while wind cold-cirrus paints the sky
Reduced to wandering dishevelled
in chequered cardigan and tie,
sadly worn to seed and furrow levelled

And on your dream-teeth whitened
the taste of salt dissolved
on a breath of windswept tear

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Monday, April 05, 2010

Launching From The Blindside


There are no tooth marks on my blindside
They attack me from the front
These ghosts,
these cartographers mapping
the coastline of my way
Through arctic sandwich layers
Through forest nose and tongue
To the desktop of my wandering
To the taste of yesterday