Dove Sta Memoria

KIA
aka 'Krapuul In Actie'
1995 or 6 - 2009
Disappeared without a trace a week ago


God on the left, Kia on the right
The Yang out of the Tao, the Podge out of the Chao


Wherever you are I'm sure you're partaking in the great infinite cat

Your little friend God is looking for you everywhere (and so am I)
I've known many cats but you were the fifth angel (God isn't even close but trying), and the wisest

I'll allways miss you tiger - shitR I'll spend my days saying goodbye and godspeed as I couldn't . You were the closest to what I would call "my best friend."

Hexagram 16 'Balanced motion'
The wise man will not lose himself in short-lived pleasures.
When he notices that notion is jammed (and here my youngest cat Butsu drops the Yi King on the floor), his explosion will bring the multitude.

Changing lines

The blind man is entangled in short-lived gratification.

Events from the past have not yet been digested.

A favor is requested while self-delusion prevails.

Remain firm as a rock.


a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will

RESIGNED

Never to be forgotten

Number Six has left the premises.

The Prisoner was the most intelligent production I have ever seen on television. I still remember what a huge impact it had on me when I watched it as a child (and I must thank my parents for allowing me to experience such epiphanies at a very young age), it probably directed me towards using at least a part of my brain.
Thank you forever mister McGoohan.

Links:
The Prisoner appreciation society
Six of One
Bogusmagus' obit
Blather obit
Portmeiricon

And to the movie executives who have decided to remake the series: go fuck yourself.

Francois Caradec (1924-2008)

Death of an ex-Satrap

On November the 13th, 2008 the Regent François Caradec died at the age of 84. He counts as the only member of the Collège de 'Pataphysique who was once elevated to the mighty rang of Provéditeur, the highest level of administration inside the Collège, and one day just decided to give up his title to become a simple Regent again.

He was one of the most prolific members of the OuLiPo and until recently was a heard regularly with his typical parisian 'gouaille' on the French radio show "Des Papous dans la Tête".

He was a world specialist on French litterature from the the turn of the 19th-20th century, the roaring 'Belle Epoque'. He wrote several books about the wacky French humorists of the period, often precursors of latter Dada, and the first comic artists like Christophe Colomb and Rodolphe Töpffer. One famous photobook with Robert Doisneau showed Paris as they lived it ("La compagnie des zincs"). He wrote books on Alphonse Allais, the pétomane, Alfred Jarry, Lautréamont, parisian slang, Raymond Roussel, popular art, parodies,... And on lots of strange subjects, as a guide on mysterious Paris and a dictionary of body language.



He was a grandmaster of literary hoaxes, long before Luther Blissett. His presence in the early years of the Collège was essential.

The first book I read from him was the account of the life and death of his dog, "Nous deux mon chien". Anyone who ever lost a four-footed friend would relate to this beautiful text on love in which he avoided emotionality (which he vehemently hated) and still was able to move this reader deeply.

He had such a long life between books, hoaxes and bistrots, yet his way of writing and talking gave the impression he was still fairly young. Young-hearted, anyway, he certainly was. Paris will never be the same.

Adieu monsieuye Caradec, tu nous manqueras.

Read more:

• on the art of pranks blog
  
• On Jahsonic
  
• Bibliography (in french)
  
• Obit by Patrice Delbourg (in French)
  

Un chien n'est vraiment plus que lorsque son odeur a disparu de vos vêtements, et que le chien qui passe ne se retourne plus pour vous renifler.
"A dog is really gone when his odor has disappeared from your clothes, and no dog turns his head anymore to sniff you." (from 'Nous deux mon chien', 1983)