|
||
|
|
|
|
||
|
||
|
THE NUCLEAR FAMILY 1969
THE MAGICALALPHABET
A MAZE IN ZAZAZA ENTERS AZAZAZ AZAZAZAZAZAZAZZAZAZAZAZAZAZA ZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZ THE MAGICALALPHABET ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA 12345678910111213141516171819202122232425262625242322212019181716151413121110987654321
Postmaster@Imperial.ac,uk
1/2/ 1999 9:14 pm IMAGE OF THE WEEK: SURREALIST "Where are the good painters of the 1970s In quite surprising places, very likely. One of them is in a West Yorkshire school for prison officers (of whom he is one) giving classes in first-aid. David Denison, who has a current exhibition at Ilkley Manor House, Yorkshire, is almost ,entirely self-taught. As a result he I has learned an astonishing skill
BELOVED LOVE EVOLVE EVOLVE LOVE BELOVED LOVE EVOLVE EVOLVE LOVE BELOVED
THE HUMAN 1973
THE SCULPTURE OF VIBRATIONS
1970
THE JOURNEYMAN 1977
THE JOURNEYWOMAN 1977
AFRICAN NIGHTMARE SPECTRE OF FAMINE 1972
FIRST CONTACT 1980
GREETINGS
Dear Richard,
973-eht-namuh-973.com 973ARCHIVE973IN
A DIVINE MESSAGE THE BLESSED PEOPLES OF PERU "THE GREAT WORK" 1 of 2 mcarden@pucp.edu.pe; kmakows@pucp.edu.pe;
From: david denison September 9, 2004 8:56 PM
rom: david denison
From: david denison Dear Rupert Sheldrake,
Hawkin1. Doc Dear Steven Hawking, Hello Sir Sharp intake of breath, thinks Oh no not another crank Hm, be that as it may, this is the most important letter I’ve ever written. You are I know an eminent thinker and your time is precious. I apologise most humbly for trespassing on your life in this way and hope you eventually consider your time to have been well spent. In some small measure I can thank you by giving you images of my work. I hope you like them. I have just stopped for my umpteenth coffee Dave gerron wi it, were not interested, you’ve only just started Reight then. The page I have included, which contains comments on my work and a brief history. I include not to impress, but to assure you of my utmost sincerity, and the veracity of this letter. It serves also to illustrate direction and continuity, in my quest for some understanding of the nature of things, of the human condition. In that Steve we are kith and kin. I hope it gives you some idea about me, that I am not a disembodied voice, a ghost writer. Everyone is a stranger to some one, somewhere, friends are first strangers. I know that you are a seeker like me, looking for answers to the seeming enigma of existence. I have spent a great deal of my life in institutions of one kind or another, serving three years in the Air Force 1958-61. I am fifty six years old, retired from the Prison Service, for whom I had apparently worked twenty eight years. For eighteen of those years, amazingly, I was able to paint whilst at work. I was a prison hospital officer and the jobs that I did over that period of time, were positions fairly carefree, and with virtual total autonomy. I hope this is not a total ball ache for you Steve but honest injun, I am to pardon the pun, trying to put you in the picture, this biographical ephemera might help. Whilst in the RAF in 1958, I started copying old master drawings. Then in 1963 I started to paint and have done so until the last few years, during which I have travelled pretty extensively. I was married briefly, I have three grown up kids, one son, two daughters. I have lived on my own nearly all my adult life. For a few months I have had two girls living with me, who have been working abroad and go back in February. I mention this because they are featured in the tapes. One of the girls was a personal friend who has a dog which I have looked after for eighteen months, the dog unfortunately has split into three, so I’ve now got three dogs from none. For as long as I can remember, the koan bone I have worried has been
Ah sweet mystery of life At last I’ve found you We walk the same road, I was destined to walk it, thoughtfully, but thus far alone. Formal education for me finished at fifteen and may account for the somewhat idiosyncratic way I have of expressing myself, although I am trying to keep it ordered, so please bare with me. Meanwhile back at the ranch. Look abroad through natures range Natures mighty law is changed Thank you for that one dear Robbie I started to paint in 1963, I had never done so before and cannot recall much of an interest whilst at school. I have never received any lessons, that I think was important. In 1966 I prepared the surface of a piece of hardboard and primed it with white emulsion paint. It was perhaps thirty six by thirty inches. This was maybe the seventh attempt at a painting, nothing much. After drawing a huge head, I simply divided it into segments, painted, thickly and quickly in different colours. This is the situation, I was working at Wakefield Prison, working horrendous hours, hours that would have killed an hoss, overtime was totally compulsory and could be detailed at a moments notice. Personally I was frustrated, there were not many to whom I could talk. Staff, friends and inmates everywhere, and not a drop to think. The painting. The frustration engendered by this simplistic image, I can recall feeling stumped and stymied, redundant in its presence. What am I trying to do anyway? So the pressure continued to build, as I chopped and changed, eventually the head was covered in numerous coats of paint. Something then happened which was rather wonderful. One day staring at the painting, a different state of consciousness took over. I attacked the geometrical precision of the image, physically with my bare fingers. Each succeeding coat of paint had dried at different rates. The one nearest the emulsion was the driest because of the unsealed capillary action of the hardboard, the paint had become very pliable, almost plasticine like. The technique depended on the pressure exerted by the finger nails, dragging across the surface, perhaps through four layers of paint in various stages of drying and it depended on that for its effect. Evocation Van Gough. It is now 5.30 am in the morning, I’m sorry about my voice, it seems to be going, I’ll try and buck up. Suddenly was engendered a multi-coloured shorn head, on powerful shoulders, rising out of a sea of blue. The creative experience. I have been fortunate enough to experience such magic many times since then. It is categorised in every case as follows: a build up of some kind of mental turmoil, great frustration, impatience and inner anguish. Then becomes the image, as much a surprise to this seeing eye as anybody that sees it. Herein the success of it. Images you haven’t seen before, but having seen them, seem as if they should always have been. The mind boggles. If our Norah, my mother, who is eighty five were present, when you are listening to this she’d say, Oh do you know that Mr. Hawking is a lovely man, so patient int he Michael. Michael ask him if he can play chess. I’ll get you a cup of tea and a sandwich. Mm... It was at that point, half eight in the morning, I were jiggered, so I went to bed. It’s now twelve o’clock, I’ve just looked outside the back door, it’s absolutely sileing down. Raining dogs and cats, in fact I think three of em’s run in here, would you believe it. My friend Deborah has called, as usual, dispensing peace and tranquillity. Dave I’m off to f-ing park, are you coming No Deborah I must get this finished You lazy, idle git The outwardly facile draughtsman, I have shunned, I am still vergo intacto. In the light of experience I believe such a discipline would for me have been an interference in the process. False starts there may be, but once the fixation occurs, the concentration seems fairly absolute, with no effort, lock on is total. Then, and only then, does appear that which is a stranger to both you and I, it is then simply a matter of qualifying that which has exteriorised. Generally it just seems to appear of its own free will. Finally it is very difficult to disengage from the work, often continuing, sometimes even painting another picture. I suppose you only need paint one picture, or write one poem. Eventually letting go, but knowing you have paid in some way you are unaware of, paid dearly for the experience, in a currency of which you know not the value, hence how much you have to spend. I began to understand that what occurred was a struggle of sorts, often ferocious, I don’t want to intentionally introduce anything which might mislead you. You have shown me a great courtesy by reading thus far. My words are my truth. The lead up to the conflict, part of what happens, fills me with apprehension, dread even. I think it is the intensity and integrity of commitment and effort I know is necessary. It is pushing a large snowball up a hill blind fold, you only know you are at the summit as it goes away from you. You may not know who or what is arriving until the train pulls in, then you know Dave, it’s just inspiration, all creative people get it The question is, what is it. In 1990 following five years of inner turmoil, during which I didn’t experience that magic process at all. Fifteen months ago I met one, a language assistant teacher at Wakefield College, in England for nine months sabbatical from the University of Aachen. We formed a close friendship, she stimulated my mind wonderfully, at last I had somebody that I could talk to. Perhaps the following may illustrate the totality of my mental isolation, cos apart from this, and speaking to Ursula, I never really spoke in or around this subject to anyone. The odd conversation with my brother, otherwise it’s only been explored whilst painting, in painting. Anyway, I said to her, I said ‘Ursula, where have you been all mi life. I have waited fifty six years for you to make your entrance.’ Before leaving England she encouraged me to write down whatever I wanted to communicate, this I could include when sending her a letter. I had previously written very little, apart from the odd letter and a few poems, I wrote in 1967-69, herein early evidence of a quest. About the fifth letter I wrote to Ursula, I did in the usual way, as the letter progressed I realised what had happened, the painting experience was being replicated. It had simply transferred to writing, as was usual, preceded in this case by more inner turmoil than ever before. The paintings created in the singular way I have described, the audio tape, and written work is my first sound painting in mime, and was, for me the key to explain these images. I don’t wonder I get confused, neighbours are in and out like blue arsed flies. Why do you like painting then Dave Well it’s where mind and matter overlap Is it What I think happened, every time a painting evolved in that particular way, is that it has repeatedly been asking the same question, this sound painting is the answer. When I was writing, I did so quickly, in my usual untidy, hard to decipher scrawl. Over seventy pages without pause. It was like taking down dictation, the principle, enunciated, written down complete, out of the blue, the mending of a broken circle. The culmination of ruminations over all those years, which couldn’t have ripened earlier. In the latter part of the letter, your name came into my mind regularly, with increasing confidence and insistence. Mother, our David’s hearing voices Oh that’s nice, he’s got someone to talk to at last The process described, is more or less the same each time, image or images evolving in what seems to be an abstracted fashion, seemingly impersonal, isolated from other image making means. Any exhumed residue is the proving of the alchemy of that process. Having heard the accompanying tapes, and had chance to ponder, it maybe that the door that I have passed through, is in your judgement perceived as an illusion, then so be it. I can only offer you the fruits of my labour as an indication of my total sincerity and genuine response to all this. I know your workload must be a very heavy burden, I am very loathe to add to it, but I have felt under great time constraint to get this off to you. I can’t understand why that should be. Apart from my friend in Germany, you are the only person I have tried to contact in respect of this. I don’t believe certain coincidental phenomena occurs in isolation. Maybe when the wheat is sorted from the chaff, you may make certain connections. Please so that I can rest easy, give this work the once over. The nearer it is to finishing, the happier, more peaceful I will feel. I hope you’re not saying the same thing. Perhaps what seems to me a self evident truth, is just that, if I am misguided, it isn’t for lack of effort It’s the way, you tell em Dave It’s strange also, I felt I had to send it in complete form, with all its imperfections, knowing the demands I am placing on you, and your various commitments. The tapes themselves, I think you’ll enjoy. I would also have sent written copy, but apart from my sister-in-law, who was going to do it, she has two young children and it would have taken ages. Remember I feel a sense of urgency and will do so until this particular hologram is passed on. My friend Ursula is fully appraised of what I am doing, that I must send it to you and is in agreement with this. I’ve just been in kitchen, had another moment of satori, it must be all the pots I usually have to wash up. It must mean that I’ve been a messenger, a messenger boy all this time. I wish I’d known, ee, what a humbling experience, hm it’s all serendipity. It’s 10.35 pm at night, and I’m still at it. Thank god I’m near end He’ll have to get of Mr. Hawking, he’s got some more dragons to slay, haven’t yeh Dave As Ken Keasy said, when he were Jack Nicholson, at least I’ve tried. Again Stephen my most heartfelt appreciation, thank you for listening. Unless you decide otherwise, I will not contact you again, for any reason. Should anyone else be privy to the letter, I ask once again that you kindly bring it to Mr. Hawking’s notice. The other tapes contain my sound painting. They are written and recorded in a simplistic and freer manner, but with absolute honesty as far as I am concerned. It was during the writing of the letter that I suddenly gained insight into the process that I have previously described, about which I have made these tapes. The instantaneous realisation and great sense of knowing seems to have left me in some way changed, an inner peace, perhaps it may reveal from its different perspective another way of looking at something. The reason for my excitement and compulsion to tell you is simple enough. It is as follows: in answer to the question, what is matter Well you see, you might as well have asked me. What is mind, it doesn’t matter. What is matter never mind Thank you, Bertrand Russell, will you step down please. Aye Mr. Russell stop fighting, somebody restrain him I’m sorry, I’m sorry about that. Now Sir on behalf of Wakefield Pensioners Forum, I’ll ask you the same question, what is matter Matter is the means by which mind proves itself, they are indivisible. Because we too are at one with this principle, we should understand how this is achieved, this I have called the Imaginative, Imitative, Need Imperative.
To
-----Original Message----- **Automatic Reply** Your email regarding "THE HOURS OF HORUS" has been received. Professor Hawking very much regrets that due to the huge amount of mail he Please see the website http://www.hawking.org.uk for more information Yours faithfully Tom Pelly Graduate Assistant to Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics, http://www.hawking.org.uk
From: david denison S.W. Hawkins.
======================================== ? Dave Denison - Expressionism Fantastique - More Information autobiography In 1996, the Yorkshire-based Denison began writing a letter to the famous scientist and author of ‘A Brief History of Time’, Stephen Hawkins. "Sir," it begins. "In presuming to write to as learned a gentleman as yourself, I am cognisant of the time constraints placed upon you by your work and other commitments...." By page five, however, we’ve reached the following: "Having been present at three hangings in my prison work and given mouth to mouth resucitation in training on numerous occasions, only once in F Wing Med Obs Brixton was I successful. This way to suck-cess. One summer afternoon all those on observation were, as it were, banged up on F3 landing. Along with other staff I'd been to the mess, made a good tea of sardines on toast, had me seven slices of bread an jam, pinta milk. Returned by the clock to the rock. Relieved colleagues for late tea break, 6pm. Two cleaners, allowed out over staff break periods. "Boss, boss!" This highly-skilled operative, me, sez: "What the fuck’s up with him?" "Boss, quick..." Lithe and panther-quick up the stairs. Nosy cleaner had put down the observation hatch of a 19-year-old. Topped off with beddin sheets. "Farkin ell boss, is dead." The wharramedics swung into action. Cut down or what, dunno. "Get to it Dave, tha’s specialist at this sorta thing. See how tha frames thiself." Four quick puffs. After checkin his gob was clear, on his back. Not breathing. Three or four watching, staff plus cleaners. Nobody volunteered to help. Encouragement though: "Hey up George, get yourself up here. Dave’s sticking t‘lips on one’er cons" "Fucking hell, let’s ‘ar look." "Yer a fucking glutton, Denison, you will fuck owt." He had no heartbeat…… Hawkins has yet to receive this letter, since it is still growing, and at the last count was well over 1,000 pages long, give or take the odd 24 hours-worth of unedited musings into a dictaphone. It’s an amorphous creature, cut any limb off and it would lumber forward regardless. What Hawkins will finally make of it depends, to some extent, on how brief time turns out to be. Why? What for? Well, only Dave seems to know. The point, he asserts, concerns what he calls ‘The Imiginative Imitative Need Imperative’. Mention the concept of editing and his eyes begin to narrow supsiciously behind the thick glass rims that have ensured he’s done no painting for the last decade or so. As a compartively unknown artist, Dave Denison can boast some impressive credentials. Like being the only person Max Ernst wanted to meet on his last visit to the UK, and having had most of his major pieces snapped up by shrewd collectors, significantly the late Roland Penrose, mentor to anyone who has shaped 20th century art, including Picasso and Henry Moore. Dave is self-taught, and spent the bulk of his working life in roles related in one capacity or another - largely medical - to the HM Prisons Service. Around 1977 he was invited by the Home Office to have a one man show in London to coincide with the "Arthur Koestler Awards" for creative work by inmates in the Prison Sytem, and sponsored by the eminent writer. There he met Arthur Koestler who's interest in his work was further encouragement. Richard Seddon art critic of the Yorkshire Post remarked in an early review that the only conceivable obstacle in Dave’s path towards serious esteem was that much of his work was of a similar size, he failed to understand that most of the paintings were being executed on A 3 size canvases in the filing cabinet in the Medical Room at the Prison Officers Training School where he was stationed as the Hospital Officer and First Aid Instructor living on the premises. "....Denison’s voluntary enclosure in the walls (sic) of HM Prisons has provided him with the isolation necessary to the development of his fantasy," Roland Penrose wrote in 1980. "The terrors that have surrounded him for years are not the menacing howlings of famished beasts, but rather the sullen angry voices of men hungry for their liberty. Denison has found unexpectedly in his choice of suroundings, usually considered as hopelessly inappropriate for an artist, his own ladder of escape, of which each rung is formed by the tension created by the crime and punishment that has been the cause of the assemblage of his companions." This does little to convey the reality of being surrounded by cages with all those keys, the smells of disinfectant and bodily waste, the gallows humour, the cold huff of the yard and the endless hours immobile on bunks, the first squalid, botched suicide, syringes in private parts…. When pressed, Dave has plenty of stories. Wakefield Prison, let’s remember, has housed most of those capable of the extremes of horror which have shaped the last 50 years since World War 2 - bombers, mafisoi, psychos, rippers, panthers, foxes and the rest. One of Dave’s charges was Archibald Hall, ‘The Butler’, an opportunist mass murderer with impeccable manners who made the news every night for months in the late 70s until the BBC sudenly realised it was probably impossible for someone to be on their 299th day of hunger strike. These kind of things could warp your vision.... Dave’s paintings sometimes aren’t as easy to like as they are to admire, particularly now. They're both pre-PC and pre-the neutral, media-friendly gloss which has shaped much UK art in the last 20 years. In addition, his exteriors are all composed of interiors somehow: faces of gristle and bone and organs. The heart on his sleeve would be trailing gore and severed entrails. In terms of attention to detail and mastery of the traditional mediums though, he’s on a par with anyone you might care to name. In an excitable piece in the Sunday Times in June 1977, the art critic and Slade professor Lawrence Gowig came closest to capturing the essence of Dave’s work. "His imagining has a sardonic poetry of its own," he said. "His Study of a Head, for example, builds spectacles and dentures into the structure of the skull. Each eye-socket contains minutely glittering machinery like a watch. Denison is great on eyes. In another picture, a bushy insect likeness of himself sits down to make a meal of a pair of eyeballs. "A reflective painter will often discern something cannibal in the way an artist consumes his experience and himself, but here, the arched eyebrows and the clownlike red nose have the look of a Prime Minister of Mirth. The hilarity resides in the fantastic human mix - the very combination of ebullience and decrepitude that you can recognise in any pension queue. It is the living flesh of our time, shabbily facetious and libidinous, but decayed and dependent on spare parts. "In a year or two," Gowing concludes, "Denison will be famous and we shall wonder how we managed to neglect him." Another critic, John Hewitt, went further. "I believe this Wakefield prison officer and self-taught painter is probably the most brilliant artist produced in Yorkshire since David Hockney," he said. Best matches for DAVE DENISON. MAN WITH NO GOB " STRANGERS IN THE LIGHT thanks for the link to emil nolde, i've never heard of him before. i like his red and purple skies that let your eyes go into a trance.
i've often wondered why artists paint flowers. they're already beautiful. you could say the same about skies. THE WONDER IS THAT IT IS NOT THE SKY. BUT AN IMAGE OF THE SKY TRANSMUTED VIA HUMAN SENSIBILITIES. AS IN MAGRITTE AND HIS PAINTING OF A PIPE IN WHICH HE INCLUDES THE WORDS "THIS IS NOT A PIPE" why do we replicate beauty? isn’t it enough? BE BEAUTIFUL B DUTIFUL "I take much pleasure in, and greatly esteem, the work ot David Denison - the modern expressionist. fantastique." Rene Passeron
ART REVIEW
SUNDAY TIMES LIFESPAN ARTS IMAGE OF THE WEEK SURREALIST 24th July 1977 Pages 16/17 "Where are the good painters of the 1970s In quite surprising places, very likely. One of them is in a West Yorkshire school for prison officers (of whom he is one) giving classes in first-aid. David Denison, who has a current exhibition at Ilkley Manor House, Yorkshire, is almost entirely self-taught. As a result he has learned an astonishing skill of a highly personal kind. He is a natural surrealist - a breed that is commoner In England than in more rational countries, but is very rare even here His imagining has a sardonic poetry of its own. His Study of a Head, for example (right), builds spectacles and dentures into a skull. Each eye socket contains minutely glittering machinery like a watch. Denison is great on eyes. In another picture, a bushy insect likeness of himself sits down to make a meal of a pair of eyeballs. A reflective painter will often discern something cannibal in the way an artist consumes his experience and himself, but here the arched brows and the clown-like red nose have a look of a Prime minister of Mirth, The hilarity resides in the fantastic human mix - the very combination of ebullience and decreptitude that you can recognise in any pension queue. It is the living flesh of our time, shabbily facetious and libidinous but decayed and dependent on spare parts. Other Denison pictures are more sombre, poetic, or horrendous. Even in their farthest extremity there is a often a quality of the real from which fantastic art is usually protected. One can sense that the painter is familiar with rigours and incongruites that are by no means imaginary. A first-aid officer sees violence and self-mutilation, and looks aggression and despair in the face - no painter can know better the constraints from which imagination is literally the only escape. Denisons best pictures have a quality of serious need. At 37 this remarkable painter is still little known, but Sir Roland Penrose reports that when Max Ernst came to England it was Denison that he wanted to hear about. In a year or two Denison will be famous and we shall wonder how we managed to neglect him. David Denison's work will be on show at Ilkley Manor House Yorkshire until August 17. Lawrence Gowing
SUNDAY TIMES LIFESPAN ARTS 24th July 1977 Pages 16/17 Science Fiction: an inter-galactic trip among the paper backs Review Alan Brien "...It turns out to be a donkey, a fearsome sight to a visitor from a planet without animals. Perhaps ESP has been at work, for almost the same incident occurs in Arthur Clarke's Imperial Earth (Pan 75p) where Duncan, another moon- man, this time from Saturn's satellite Titan, visits the home- land of Terra, from which his ancestors had emigrated to con- quer new frontiers. He too has never seen an animal before, here a giant Percheron cart-horse. A mild, gentle eye, which from this distance seemed about as large as a fist, looked straight at Duncan, who started to laugh a little hysterically as the ap-parition withdrew. . . .. Look at it from my point of view. I've just met my first Monster from Outer Space. Thank God, it was friendly." The usual SF situations continue to be reversed with neat, mild wit as when Duncan cowers inwardly.at the thought that he might even be obliged to eat meat and is kept awake by the un- Titanly noises and, worse, smells of this weird place, at once primeval and decadent. Clarke is by no means a political innocent. As ever, he logically thinks out all the implications of his speculative fictions but his ' attitude remains Olympian..." "Sir Arthur Clarke "Leslie's House, 25 Barnes Place, Colombo 7. Sri Lanka. 27-11-2001 Sir, you may find the attached of interest With every good wish Dave Denison"
"Dear Mr Denison, Thanks! Ive written an article 'SEPT 11" but it hasn't been placed yet All good wishes Arthur Clarke 3 Dec 2001" Reverse of Letter "THE FOUNTAINS OF PARADISE"
ARTHUR C. CLARKE The Fountains of Paradise 1979 "NIRVANA PRAPTO BHUYAT"
OF TIME AND STARS Arthur C. Clarke 1972 The Sentinel "I can never look now at the Milky Way without wondering from which of those banked clouds of stars the emissaries are coming. If you will pardon so commonplace a simile, we have set off the fire alarm and have nothing to do but wait. I do not think we will have to wait for long."
----- Original Message ----- From: david denison To: Webmaster@Seti.org Sent: Wednesday, December 03, 2003 5:25 PM Subject: Frank Drake SETI-INSTITUTE- 1 of 2 The Pictures
----- Original Message ----- From: david denison To: Webmaster@Seti.org Sent: Wednesday, December 03, 2003 5:29 PM Subject: Frank Drake SETI-iNSTITUTE- 1 of 2 The Pictures Subject: Fw: 2 of 2: The Message For the attention of Frank Drake (Message omitted) With a Ra-in-bow of good wishes David Denison
----- Original Message ----- From: david denison To: Webmaster@Seti.org Sent: Thursday, January 01, 2004 12:10 PM Subject: FRANK DRAKE IMAGINE THERE'S A HEAVEN
----- Original Message ----- From: david denison To: Webmaster@Seti.org Sent: Thursday, January 01, 2004 12:22 PM Subject: Fw:Frank Drake.Sir,Consider, The Root numbers forI=9 Me=9 Ego=9 conscience=9 Jupiter=9 Sun =9 Oxygen =9 Physics9 Albert Einstein9 Satan+God=9 Serendipity = 9 ?
OF TIME AND STARS Arthur C. Clarke Page 68 Into the Comet "Pickett's fingers danced over the beads, sliding them up and down the wires with lightning speed. There were twelve wires in all, so that the abacus could handle numbers up to 999,999,999,999
REACH FOR TOMORROW "However I have made some interesting discoveries; for instance, on the very first page of the first story, I see the number 9000. Ive no idea why I selected it again for HALs serial number 20 years later. . .
"OF TIME AND STARS 'Into the Comet' and 'The Nine Billion Names of God' both involve computers and the troubles they may cause us. While writing this preface, I had occasion to call upon my own HP 9100A computer, Hal Junior, to answer an interesting question. Looking at my records, I find that I have now written just about one hundred short stories. This volume contains eighteen of them: therefore, how many possible 18-story collections will I be able to put together? The answer as I am sure will be instantly obvious to you - is 100 x 99. . . x 84 x 83 divided by 18 x 17 x 16 ... x .2 x 1. This is an impressive number - Hal Junior tells me that it is approximately 20,772,733,124,605,000,000. Page 15 The Nine Billion Names of God Page16 'We have reason to believe,' continued the lama imperturbably, 'that all such names can be written with not more than nine letters in an alphabet we have devised.'
I = 9 9 = I A9thu9 C. Cla9ke,1972 Page 15 THE N9NE B9LL9ON NAMES OF GOD 'Th9s 9s a sl9ghtly unusual 9equest,'sa9d D9 Wagne9, w9th what he hoped was commendable 9est9a9nt.' As fa9 as 9 know, 9t's the f99st t9me anyone's been asked to supply a T9betan monaste9y with an Automat9c Sequence Compute9. 9 don't w9sh to be 9nqu9s9t9ve, but 9 should ha9dly have thought that you9- ah - establ9shment had much use for such a mach9ne.Could you expla9n just what you 9ntend to do w9th 9t?' 'Gladly,' 9epl9ed the lama, 9eadjust9ng h9s s9lk 9obes and ca9efully putting away the sl9de 9ule he had been us9ng fo9 cu99ency conve9s9ons. 'You9 Ma9k V Compute9 can ca99y out any 9out9ne mathemat9cal ope9at9on 9nvolv9ng up to ten d9g9ts. Howeve9, for ou9 work we are 9nte9ested 9n lette9s, not numbe9s. As we w9sh you to mod9fy the output c9rcu9ts,the mach9ne w9ll be p99nt9ng wo9ds not columns of f9gu9es.' '9 dont qu9te unde9stand…' 'Th9s 9s a p9oject on wh9ch we have been work9ng fo9 the last th9ee centu99es - s9nce the lamase9y was founded, 9n fact.9t 9s somewhat al9en to you9 way of thought, so9 hope you w9ll l9sten with an open m9nd wh9le 9 expla9n 9t 'Natu9ally.' '9t 9s 9eally qu9te s9mple.We have been comp9l9ng a l9st wh9ch shall conta9n all the poss9ble names of God' '9 beg you9 pa9don?' / Page16 / 'We have 9eason to bel9eve' cont9nued the lama 9mpe9tu9bably, ' that all such names can be w99tten with not mo9e than n9ne lette9s 9n an alphabet we have dev9sed,' 'And you have been do9ng th9s for three centu99es? 'Yes: we expected9t would take us about f9fteen thousand years to complete the task.' 'Oh, Dr Wagne9 looked a l9ttle dazed. 'Now9 see why you wanted to h99e one of ou9 mach9nes. But what exactly9s the pu9pose of th9s p9oject ? 'The lama hes9tated fo9 a f9act9on of a second, and Wagne9 wonde9ed9f he had offended h9m.9f so the9e was no t9ace of annoyance9n the 9eply. 'Call9t 99tual, 9f you l9ke, but 9t's a fundamental pa9t of ou9 bel9ef. All the many names of the Sup9eme Be9ng - God , Jehova , Allah , and so on - they a9e only man made labels. The9e 9s a ph9losoph9cal p9oblem of some d9ff9culty he9e, wh9ch9 do not p9opose to d9scuss, but somewhe9e among all the poss9ble comb9nat9ons of lette9s that can occu9 a9e what one may call the 9eal names of God. By systemat9c pe9mutat9on of lette9s, we have been t9y9ng to l9st them all' 9 see. You've been sta9t9ng at AAAAAAA… and wo9k-9ng up to ZZZZZZZZ …' 'Exactly - though we use a spec9al alphabet of ou9 own. Mod9fy9ng the elect9omat9c typew99te9s to deal w9th th9s 9s of cou9se t99v9al. A 9athe9 mo9e 9nte9est9ng p9oblem 9s that of dev9s9ng su9table c99cu9ts to el9m9nate 9 9d9culous comb9nat9ons. Fo9 example, no lette9 must occu9 mo9e than th9ee t9mes 9n sucess9on.' 'Th9ee? Su9ely you mean two.' 'Th9ee 9s co99ect; 9 am af9a9d 9t would take too long to expla9n why , even 9f you unde9stood ou9 language.'/ Page 17 / '9'm su9e 9t would,' sa9d Wagne9 hast9ly. 'Go on.' 'Luck9ly, 9t w9ll be a s9mple matte9 to adapt you9 Automat9c Sequence Compute9 fo9 th9s wo9k, s9nce once 9t has been p9og9ammed p9ope9ly 9t w9ll pe9mute each lette9 9n tu9n and p99nt the 9esult. What would have taken us f9fteen thousand years 9t w9ll be able to do 9n a hund9ed days.' 'Dr Wagne9 was sca9cely consc9ous of the fa9nt sounds f9om the Manhatten st9eets fa9 below. He was 9n a d9ffe9ent wo9ld, a wo9ld of natu9al, not man-made mounta9ns. H9gh up 9n the99 9emote ae99es these monks had been pat9ently at wo9k gene9at9on afte9 gene9at9on, comp9l9ng the99 l9sts of mean9ngless wo9ds. Was the9e any l9m9ts to the foll9es of mank9nd ? St9ll, he must g9ve no h9nt of h9s 9nne9 thoughts. The custome9 was always 99ght…"
OF TIME AND STARS Page 68 Into the Comet "Pickett's fingers danced over the beads, sliding them up and down the wires with lightning speed. There were twelve wires in all, so that the abacus could handle numbers up to 999,999,999,999 - or could be divided into separate sections where several independent calculations could be carried out simultaneously.
DECIPHER Page 357 24 hours "We live in a universe of patterns. Every night the stars move in circles across the sky. The seasons cycle at yearly inter vals. No two snowflakes are ever exactly the same, but the all have sixfold symmetry. Tigers and zebras are covered in patterns of stripes; leopards and hyenas are covered in pat terns of spots. Intricate trains of waves march across the oceans; very similar trains of sand dunes march across the desert . . . By using mathematics... we have discovered great secret: nature's patterns are not just there to be admired, they are vital clues to the rules that govern natural processes." Ian Stewart, Nature's Numbers, 1995
THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN Page 466 "Had not the normal, since time was, lived on the achievements of the abnormal? Men consciously and voluntarily descended into disease and madness, in search of knowledge which, acquired by fanaticism, would lead back to health; after the possession and use of it had ceased to be conditioned by that heroic and abnormal act of sacrifice. That was the true death on the cross, the true Atonement.
AND THIS BY A FRIEND ADA WILSON FOR THE YORKSHIRE ARTS ASSOCIATION WEB SITE. In 1996, the Yorkshire-based Denison began writing a letter to the famous scientist and author of ‘A Brief History of Time’, Stephen Hawkins. "Sir," it begins. "In presuming to write to as learned a gentleman as yourself, I am cognisant of the time constraints placed upon you by your work and other commitments...." By page five, however, we’ve reached the following: "Having given mouth to mouth resucitation on numerous occasions, only once in F Wing Med Obs Brixton was I successful. This way to suck-cess. One summer afternoon all those on observation were, as it were, banged up. F3 landing. Along with other staff I'd been to the mess, made a good tea of sardines on toast, had me seven slices of bread an jam, pinta milk. Returned by the clock to the rock. Relieved colleagues for late tea break, 6pm. Two cleaners, allowed out over staff break periods. "Boss, boss!" This highly-skilled operative, me, sez: "What the fuck’s up with him?" "Boss, quick..." Lithe and panther-quick up the stairs. Nosy cleaner had put down the observation hatch of a 19-year-old. Topped off with beddin sheets. "Farkin ell boss, is dead." The wharramedics swung into action. Cut down or what, dunno. "Get to it Dave, tha’s specialist at this sorta thing. See how tha frames thiself." Four quick puffs. After checkin his gob was clear, on his back. Not breathing. Three or four watching, staff plus cleaners. Nobody volunteered to help. Encouragement though: "Hey up George, get yourself up here. Dave’s sticking t‘lips on one’er cons" "Fucking hell, let’s ‘ar look." "Yer a fucking glutton, Denison, you will fuck owt." He had no heartbeat…… Hawkins has yet to receive this letter, since it is still growing, and at the last count was well over 1,000 pages long, give or take the odd 24 hours-worth of unedited musings into a dictaphone. It’s an amorphous creature, cut any limb off and it would lumber forward regardless. What Hawkins will finally make of it depends, to some extent, on how brief time turns out to be. Why? What for? Well, only Dave seems to know. The point, he asserts, concerns what he calls ‘The Imiginative Imitative Need Imperative’. Mention the concept of editing and his eyes begin to narrow supsiciously behind the thick glass rims that have ensured he’s done no painting for the last decade or so. As a compartively unknown artist, Dave Denison can boast some impressive credentials. Like being the only person Max Ernst wanted to meet on his last visit to the UK, and having had most of his major pieces snapped up by shrewd collectors, significantly the late Roland Penrose, mentor to anyone who has shaped 20th century art, including Picasso and Henry Moore. Dave is self-taught, and spent the bulk of his working life in roles related in one capacity or another - largely medical - to the HM Prisons Service. When the late Arthur Koestler remarked in an early review that the only conceivable obstacle in Dave’s path towards serious esteem was that much of his work was of a similar size, he failed to understand that most of the paintings were being executed on canvases stowed in the locker of a prison officer’s rest room. "....Denison’s voluntary enclosure in the walls (sic) of HM Prisons has provided him with the isolation necessary to the development of his fantasy," Roland Penrose wrote in 1980. "The terrors that have surrounded him for years are not the menacing howlings of famished beasts, but rather the sullen angry voices of men hungry for their liberty. Denison has found unexpectedly in his choice of suroundings, usually considered as hopelessly inappropriate for an artist, his own ladder of escape, of which each rung is formed by the tension created by the crime and punishment that has been the cause of the assemblage of his companions." This does little to convey the reality of being surrounded by cages with all those keys, the smells of disinfectant and bodily waste, the gallows humour, the cold huff of the yard and the endless hours immobile on bunks, the first squalid, botched suicide, syringes in private parts…. When pressed, Dave has plenty of stories. Wakefield Prison, let’s remember, has housed most of those capable of the extremes of horror which have shaped the last 50 years since World War 2 - bombers, mafisoi, psychos, rippers, panthers, foxes and the rest. One of Dave’s stories was about Archibald Hall, ‘The Butler’, an opportunist mass murderer with impeccable manners who made the news every night for months in the late 70s until the BBC sudenly realised it was probably impossible for someone to be on their 299th day of hunger strike. These kind of things could warp your vision.... Dave’s paintings sometimes aren’t as easy to like as they are to admire, particularly now. They're both pre-PC and pre-the neutral, media-friendly gloss which has shaped much UK art in the last 20 years. In addition, his exteriors are all composed of interiors somehow: faces of gristle and bone and organs. The heart on his sleeve would be trailing gore and severed entrails. In terms of attention to detail and mastery of the traditional mediums though, he’s on a par with anyone you might care to name. In an excitable piece in the Sunday Times in June 1977, the art critic and Slade professor Lawrence Gowig came closest to capturing the essence of Dave’s work. "His imagining has a sardonic poetry of its own," he said. "His Study of a Head, for example, builds spectacles and dentures into the structure of the skull. Each eye-socket contains minutely glittering machinery like a watch. Denison is great on eyes. In another picture, a bushy insect likeness of himself sits down to make a meal of a pair of eyeballs. "A reflective painter will often discern something cannibal in the way an artist consumes his experience and himself, but here, the arched eyebrows and the clownlike red nose have the look of a Prime Minister of Mirth. The hilarity resides in the fantastic human mix - the very combination of ebullience and decrepitude that you can recognise in any pension queue. It is the living flesh of our time, shabbily facetious and libidinous, but decayed and dependent on spare parts. "In a year or two," Gowing concludes, "Dension will be famous and we shall wonder how we managed to neglect him." Another critic, John Hewitt, went further. "I believe this Wakefield prison officer and self-taught painter is probably the most brilliant artist produced in Yorkshire since David Hockney," he said. But that was in 1977, and Dave’s last major exhibition was in 1984. So what happened? Well, needless to say, there’s been a lot of alcohol under the bridge since then. It’s a familiar story. Working class lad with an unnatural talent and the world at his feet can only find what he really needs at the bottom of a glass. A combination of the booze, the prison and a turbulent personal life threatened to tip Dave over the edge at one stage. But that’s history too, now. Pensioned out of the prison service, he’s got the drinking moderately under control. Most of his paintings are in private collections, and I suppose he’s resigned to the fact that the major retrospective will only happen once he pops his clogs. It will probably be later than they think. Meanwhile, there's that small matter of the 1,000+ page letter to Stephen Hawking..... Extract from page 90: Energy of life and energy of death discarded as waste or changed energy, what is happening? You, as I, are a part of a reality which proceeds from ignorance to enlightenment, it is a series of rationalisations by the living conscious intelligence as expressed as the Imaginative Imitative Need Imperative. Text by Adrian Wilson: adrianw@aol.com "Jayson Duff" Dave- I give you my most sincere apologies about the tardiness in my reply. You see, unfortunately I am not in England at all, nor am I an Englishman, but rather an American living in a monastery in Tibet. Because of my living situation, I have access to a computer but once a month, when I am able to make the pilgrimage to mainland China and try to figure out the Cantonese keyboard. Not to mention having to sneak around Chinese internet security to send a message to England. I can see you sitting near a cathedral, with your coffee and work, and I truly am disappointed that I can not share a proper chat with you. I have, actually, your website directory, compiled to manuscript format and printed out so that I may read during my leisure at the monastery. I do not know Adrian Wilson personally, although I wish I did. All this to say, keep up what you are doing. I have shown your work to my colleagues, and we are all reading and enjoying it here. We have many great correspondences of our own to record, but like your new paintings, they remain locked within the mind. As I have taken an oath of ascetic life, I am afraid that I can not travel out to meet you, and that I will also not be able to email you for at least a year, as I am to live out in the wilderness for a while. I give you my deepest blessings, and wish you the best of luck, and feel free to email me anything you wish knowing that it will be read with great interest. -Jayson On Wed, Aug 1, 2012 at 4:24 PM, Dave Denison <dave@denizen7.freeserve.co.uk> wrote: JAYSON. FURTHER TO THE LAST MESSAGE. Dear Mr. Denison, First of all, I am a great admirer of your work, and over the past months, I have been studying everything on 973-eht-numah-973. Not only that, but as a fellow painter, I find your paintings to be most inspiring. THANK YOU. I NO LONGER PAINT, BUT MAKE MANIFEST THE SIGHT WITHIN! I send you this email to ask but a few questions: -Will you ever publish or show your letter that you wrote/are writing to Stephen Hawking? I THINK THE TEXT IS SOMEWHERE ON THE SITE. IF NOT THE INTENTION IS TO MAKE AVAILABLE ALL THE CORRESPONDENCE TO DO WITH THIS SIGHT OF SITES. AND THERE IS A GREAT DEAL OF WHICH MR HAWKINS LETTER WAS ONE. -Can you tell me or publish any stories from your time spent as a prison officer? Again, I have only heard a little bit, specifically about Archibald Hall from Adrian Wilson, and would love to know more. PLENTY TO SAY JAYSON. BUT TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. -Finally, I have noticed that your domain expires the 14th of August, and I would like to know if you will be renewing it? This is important to me most of all, so I know whether or not to try and print it all out beforehand in hopes of continuing my studies. JAYSON IT IS MOST IMPORTANT THAT THIS WORK IS A RESTATEMENT OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM. EXPRESSED AS AS PART OF THE GREAT WORK. OR ENLIGHTENMENT. IMPERATIVE THESE TRUTHS R NOT LOST AGAIN TO THE MIND OF HUMAN KIND. IT IS KEY TO THE REVELATION PRESENTLY UNFOLDING. REAL REALITY REVEALED. I understand if you do not respond to this email, as I am sure you are a very busy man. However, if you do decide to respond, your words will fall onto very attentive ears. Thank you for reading this, THANK YOU FOR WRITING. YOUR WORDS R APPRECIATED. Jayson
I'M FATE I'M FATE FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE KNOW TIME TO SAY HELLO GOODBYE I'M FATE I'M FATE I'M FATE Shakespeare Quotes - Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made on. The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, William Shakespeare Prospero: William Shakespeare ( 26 April 1564 (baptised) – 23 April 1616)
W = 5 - 2 WE 28 10 1
The Four Quartets Burnt Norton T. S. Eliot I "Time present and time past T = 2 - 4 TIME 47 20 2
autobiography In 1996, the Yorkshire-based Denison began writing a letter to the famous scientist and author of ‘A Brief History of Time’, Stephen Hawkins. "Sir," it begins. "In presuming to write to as learned a gentleman as yourself, I am cognisant of the time constraints placed upon you by your work and other commitments...." By page five, however, we’ve reached the following: "Having given mouth to mouth resucitation on numerous occasions, only once in F Wing Med Obs Brixton was I successful. This way to suck-cess. One summer afternoon all those on observation were, as it were, banged up. F3 landing. Along with other staff I'd been to the mess, made a good tea of sardines on toast, had me seven slices of bread an jam, pinta milk. Returned by the clock to the rock. Relieved colleagues for late tea break, 6pm. Two cleaners, allowed out over staff break periods. "Boss, boss!" This highly-skilled operative, me, sez: "What the fuck’s up with him?" "Boss, quick..." Lithe and panther-quick up the stairs. Nosy cleaner had put down the observation hatch of a 19-year-old. Topped off with beddin sheets. "Farkin ell boss, is dead." The wharramedics swung into action. Cut down or what, dunno. "Get to it Dave, tha’s specialist at this sorta thing. See how tha frames thiself." Four quick puffs. After checkin his gob was clear, on his back. Not breathing. Three or four watching, staff plus cleaners. Nobody volunteered to help. Encouragement though: "Hey up George, get yourself up here. Dave’s sticking t‘lips on one’er cons" "Fucking hell, let’s ‘ar look." "Yer a fucking glutton, Denison, you will fuck owt." He had no heartbeat…… Hawkins has yet to receive this letter, since it is still growing, and at the last count was well over 1,000 pages long, give or take the odd 24 hours-worth of unedited musings into a dictaphone. It’s an amorphous creature, cut any limb off and it would lumber forward regardless. What Hawkins will finally make of it depends, to some extent, on how brief time turns out to be. Why? What for? Well, only Dave seems to know. The point, he asserts, concerns what he calls ‘The Imiginative Imitative Need Imperative’. Mention the concept of editing and his eyes begin to narrow supsiciously behind the thick glass rims that have ensured he’s done no painting for the last decade or so. As a compartively unknown artist, Dave Denison can boast some impressive credentials. Like being the only person Max Ernst wanted to meet on his last visit to the UK, and having had most of his major pieces snapped up by shrewd collectors, significantly the late Roland Penrose, mentor to anyone who has shaped 20th century art, including Picasso and Henry Moore. Dave is self-taught, and spent the bulk of his working life in roles related in one capacity or another - largely medical - to the HM Prisons Service. When the late Arthur Koestler remarked in an early review that the only conceivable obstacle in Dave’s path towards serious esteem was that much of his work was of a similar size, he failed to understand that most of the paintings were being executed on canvases stowed in the locker of a prison officer’s rest room. "....Denison’s voluntary enclosure in the walls (sic) of HM Prisons has provided him with the isolation necessary to the development of his fantasy," Roland Penrose wrote in 1980. "The terrors that have surrounded him for years are not the menacing howlings of famished beasts, but rather the sullen angry voices of men hungry for their liberty. Denison has found unexpectedly in his choice of suroundings, usually considered as hopelessly inappropriate for an artist, his own ladder of escape, of which each rung is formed by the tension created by the crime and punishment that has been the cause of the assemblage of his companions." This does little to convey the reality of being surrounded by cages with all those keys, the smells of disinfectant and bodily waste, the gallows humour, the cold huff of the yard and the endless hours immobile on bunks, the first squalid, botched suicide, syringes in private parts…. When pressed, Dave has plenty of stories. Wakefield Prison, let’s remember, has housed most of those capable of the extremes of horror which have shaped the last 50 years since World War 2 - bombers, mafisoi, psychos, rippers, panthers, foxes and the rest. Dave’s favourite was Archibald Hall, ‘The Butler’, an opportunist mass murderer with impeccable manners who made the news every night for months in the late 70s until the BBC sudenly realised it was probably impossible for someone to be on their 299th day of hunger strike. These kind of things could warp your vision.... Dave’s paintings sometimes aren’t as easy to like as they are to admire, particularly now. They're both pre-PC and pre-the neutral, media-friendly gloss which has shaped much UK art in the last 20 years. In addition, his exteriors are all composed of interiors somehow: faces of gristle and bone and organs. The heart on his sleeve would be trailing gore and severed entrails. In terms of attention to detail and mastery of the traditional mediums though, he’s on a par with anyone you might care to name. In an excitable piece in the Sunday Times in June 1977, the art critic and Slade professor Lawrence Gowig came closest to capturing the essence of Dave’s work. "His imagining has a sardonic poetry of its own," he said. "His Study of a Head, for example, builds spectacles and dentures into the structure of the skull. Each eye-socket contains minutely glittering machinery like a watch. Denison is great on eyes. In another picture, a bushy insect likeness of himself sits down to make a meal of a pair of eyeballs. "A reflective painter will often discern something cannibal in the way an artist consumes his experience and himself, but here, the arched eyebrows and the clownlike red nose have the look of a Prime Minister of Mirth. The hilarity resides in the fantastic human mix - the very combination of ebullience and decrepitude that you can recognise in any pension queue. It is the living flesh of our time, shabbily facetious and libidinous, but decayed and dependent on spare parts. "In a year or two," Gowing concludes, "Dension will be famous and we shall wonder how we managed to neglect him." Another critic, John Hewitt, went further. "I believe this Wakefield prison officer and self-taught painter is probably the most brilliant artist produced in Yorkshire since David Hockney," he said. But that was in 1977, and Dave’s last major exhibition was at the ICA in 1984. So what happened? Well, needless to say, there’s been a lot of alcohol under the bridge since then. It’s a familiar story. Working class lad with an unnatural talent and the world at his feet can only find what he really needs at the bottom of a glass. A combination of the booze, the prison and a turbulent personal life threatened to tip Dave over the edge at one stage. But that’s history too, now. Pensioned out of the prison service, he’s got the drinking moderately under control. Most of his paintings are in private collections, and I suppose he’s resigned to the fact that the major retrospective will only happen once he pops his clogs. It will probably be later than they think. Meanwhile, there's that small matter of the 1,000+ page letter to Stephen Hawking..... Extract from page 90: Energy of life and energy of death discarded as waste or changed energy, what is happening? You, as I, are a part of a reality which proceeds from ignorance to enlightenment, it is a series of rationalisations by the living conscious intelligence as expressed as the Imaginative Imitative Need Imperative. Text by Adrian Wilson: adrianw@aol.com Back to main gallery page Best matches for DAVE DENISON. MAN WITH NO GOB " 12/06/2003 1:27
Hawkin1. Doc Dear Steven Hawking, Hello Sir I have just stopped for my umpteenth coffee Reight then. The page I have included, which contains comments on my work and a brief history. I include not to impress, but to assure you of my utmost sincerity, and the veracity of this letter. It serves also to illustrate direction and continuity, in my quest for some understanding of the nature of things, of the human condition. In that Steve we are kith and kin. I hope it gives you some idea about me, that I am not a disembodied voice, a ghost writer. Everyone is a stranger to some one, somewhere, friends are first strangers. I know that you are a seeker like me, looking for answers to the seeming enigma of existence. I have spent a great deal of my life in institutions of one kind or another, serving three years in the Air Force 1958-61. I am fifty six years old, retired from the Prison Service, for whom I had apparently worked twenty eight years. For eighteen of those years, amazingly, I was able to paint whilst at work. I was a prison hospital officer and the jobs that I did over that period of time, were positions fairly carefree, and with virtual total autonomy. I hope this is not a total ball ache for you Steve but honest injun, I am to pardon the pun, trying to put you in the picture, this biographical ephemera might help. Whilst in the RAF in 1958, I started copying old master drawings. Then in 1963 I started to paint and have done so until the last few years, during which I have travelled pretty extensively. I was married briefly, I have three grown up kids, one son, two daughters. I have lived on my own nearly all my adult life. For a few months I have had two girls living with me, who have been working abroad and go back in February. I mention this because they are featured in the tapes. One of the girls was a personal friend who has a dog which I have looked after for eighteen months, the dog unfortunately has split into three, so I’ve now got three dogs from none. For as long as I can remember, the koan bone I have worried has been Ah sweet mystery of life We walk the same road, I was destined to walk it, thoughtfully, but thus far alone. Formal education for me finished at fifteen and may account for the somewhat idiosyncratic way I have of expressing myself, although I am trying to keep it ordered, so please bare with me. Meanwhile back at the ranch. Look abroad through natures range Thank you for that one dear Robbie This is the situation, I was working at Wakefield Prison, working horrendous hours, hours that would have killed an hoss, overtime was totally compulsory and could be detailed at a moments notice. Personally I was frustrated, there were not many to whom I could talk. Staff, friends and inmates everywhere, and not a drop to think. The painting. The frustration engendered by this simplistic image, I can recall feeling stumped and stymied, redundant in its presence. What am I trying to do anyway? So the pressure continued to build, as I chopped and changed, eventually the head was covered in numerous coats of paint. Something then happened which was rather wonderful. One day staring at the painting, a different state of consciousness took over. I attacked the geometrical precision of the image, physically with my bare fingers. Each succeeding coat of paint had dried at different rates. The one nearest the emulsion was the driest because of the unsealed capillary action of the hardboard, the paint had become very pliable, almost plasticine like. The technique depended on the pressure exerted by the finger nails, dragging across the surface, perhaps through four layers of paint in various stages of drying and it depended on that for its effect. Evocation Van Gough. It is now 5.30 am in the morning, I’m sorry about my voice, it seems to be going, I’ll try and buck up. Suddenly was engendered a multi-coloured shorn head, on powerful shoulders, rising out of a sea of blue. The creative experience. I have been fortunate enough to experience such magic many times since then. It is categorised in every case as follows: a build up of some kind of mental turmoil, great frustration, impatience and inner anguish. Then becomes the image, as much a surprise to this seeing eye as anybody that sees it. Herein the success of it. Images you haven’t seen before, but having seen them, seem as if they should always have been. The mind boggles. If our Norah, my mother, who is eighty five were present, when you are listening to this she’d say, It was at that point, half eight in the morning, I were jiggered, so I went to bed. It’s now twelve o’clock, I’ve just looked outside the back door, it’s absolutely sileing down. Raining dogs and cats, in fact I think three of em’s run in here, would you believe it. My friend Deborah has called, as usual, dispensing peace and tranquillity. Dave I’m off to f-ing park, are you coming The outwardly facile draughtsman, I have shunned, I am still vergo intacto. In the light of experience I believe such a discipline would for me have been an interference in the process. False starts there may be, but once the fixation occurs, the concentration seems fairly absolute, with no effort, lock on is total. Then, and only then, does appear that which is a stranger to both you and I, it is then simply a matter of qualifying that which has exteriorised. Generally it just seems to appear of its own free will. Finally it is very difficult to disengage from the work, often continuing, sometimes even painting another picture. I suppose you only need paint one picture, or write one poem. Eventually letting go, but knowing you have paid in some way you are unaware of, paid dearly for the experience, in a currency of which you know not the value, hence how much you have to spend. I began to understand that what occurred was a struggle of sorts, often ferocious, I don’t want to intentionally introduce anything which might mislead you. You have shown me a great courtesy by reading thus far. My words are my truth. The lead up to the conflict, part of what happens, fills me with apprehension, dread even. I think it is the intensity and integrity of commitment and effort I know is necessary. It is pushing a large snowball up a hill blind fold, you only know you are at the summit as it goes away from you. You may not know who or what is arriving until the train pulls in, then you know Dave, it’s just inspiration, all creative people get it The question is, what is it. In 1990 following five years of inner turmoil, during which I didn’t experience that magic process at all. Fifteen months ago I met one Ursula Nobis, a language assistant teacher at Wakefield College, in England for nine months sabbatical from the University of Aachen. We formed a close friendship, she stimulated my mind wonderfully, at last I had somebody that I could talk to. Perhaps the following may illustrate the totality of my mental isolation, cos apart from this, and speaking to Ursula, I never really spoke in or around this subject to anyone. The odd conversation with my brother, otherwise it’s only been explored whilst painting, in painting. Anyway, I said to her, I said ‘Ursula, where have you been all mi life. I have waited fifty six years for you to make your entrance.’ Before leaving England she encouraged me to write down whatever I wanted to communicate, this I could include when sending her a letter. I had previously written very little, apart from the odd letter and a few poems, I wrote in 1967-69, herein early evidence of a quest. About the fifth letter I wrote to Ursula, I did in the usual way, as the letter progressed I realised what had happened, the painting experience was being replicated. It had simply transferred to writing, as was usual, preceded in this case by more inner turmoil than ever before. The paintings created in the singular way I have described, the audio tape, and written work is my first sound painting in mime, and was, for me the key to explain these images. I don’t wonder I get confused, neighbours are in and out like blue arsed flies. Why do you like painting then Dave In the latter part of the letter, your name came into my mind regularly, with increasing confidence and insistence. Mother, our David’s hearing voices The process described, is more or less the same each time, image or images evolving in what seems to be an abstracted fashion, seemingly impersonal, isolated from other image making means. Any exhumed residue is the proving of the alchemy of that process. Having heard the accompanying tapes, and had chance to ponder, it maybe that the door that I have passed through, is in your judgement perceived as an illusion, then so be it. I can only offer you the fruits of my labour as an indication of my total sincerity and genuine response to all this. I know your workload must be a very heavy burden, I am very loathe to add to it, but I have felt under great time constraint to get this off to you. I can’t understand why that should be. Apart from my friend in Germany, up to now, you are the only person I have tried to contact in respect of this. I don’t believe certain coincidental phenomena occurs in isolation. Maybe when the wheat is sorted from the chaff, you may make certain connections. Please so that I can rest easy, give this work the once over. The nearer it is to finishing, the happier, more peaceful I will feel. I hope you’re not saying the same thing. Perhaps what seems to me a self evident truth, is just that, if I am misguided, it isn’t for lack of effort I’ve just been in kitchen, had another moment of satori, it must be all the pots I usually have to wash up. It’s 10.35 pm at night, and I’m still at it. Thank god I’m near end Again Stephen my most heartfelt appreciation, thank you for listening. Unless you decide otherwise, I will not contact you again, for any reason. Should anyone else be privy to the letter, I ask once again that you kindly bring it to Mr. Hawking’s notice. The other tapes contain my sound painting. They are written and recorded in a simplistic and freer manner, but with absolute honesty as far as I am concerned. It was during the writing of the letter that I suddenly gained insight into the process that I have previously described, about which I have made these tapes. The instantaneous realisation and great sense of knowing seems to have left me in some way changed, an inner peace, perhaps it may reveal from its different perspective another way of looking at something. The reason for my excitement and compulsion to tell you is simple enough. It is as follows: in answer to the question, what is matter
MERLIN THE MASTER SHAMAN 1969 Nilrem. The Shaman. Magician Extrodinaire. The quintessential moment, time suspended Then time restarted, a little late The crusty conjurer Master of illusion, man of tattered habits ruefully ruminated. He thrust a hand, in dirty habit clean Without a glance, Merlin drew out, from within Slight silver spear, sliver of light The august magi, belched twice -------- Dunblane massacre Location: Dunblane Attack types: School shooting, Mass murder, Murder–suicide
One and one is two, John Donne, Anne Donne, undone Think of a number, think of a number, Five, Six. Come with me, ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, When I got up this morning Before I set off this morning One, two, three, four. There were seventeen green bottles, hanging on the wall, Thomas please, I grow old, I grow old Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly Their energy was such Yes Mary, ah Mary's got a joke. Come on now, let's all listen. Yes Mary, yes, listen Come on now children, altogether This old man, he played one I checked my watch, it's almost time That morning, all the children had minded their P's and Q's And he, who took our lives We are children, who forgive easily There is but one child left If you were the only girl in the world It is afternoon, it is time again to take the toll, and yet this classroom is empty, not alas for the discerning eye. Therein happiness, therein love, therein hope, therein our lives. Settle down then children, answer the register My children, dost thou know, that thy creator weeps today When I died, did you hold me What is thy name If I am called, if I am summoned I also wept bitter tears Tell me brother death art thou evil No my child, not so From: david denison
Subject: Mathemetician Gone Mad? -Eht Namuh HOLE INTHE EARTH -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Avatar Points: 7273
I discovered this today and itseriously is the most disturbing thing I have everwitnessed on the internet. Before you even think aboutsaying it, Captain Asshat, I know it's just a website.But... you'll see. The Evokation, in my opinion is themost disturbing part of the site. E.g. a1 b2 c3 d4 e5 f6 g7 h8 i9j1 k2 l3 m4 n5 o6 p7 q8 r9 s1 t2 u3 v4 w5 x6 y7z8 a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v wx y z a+z 1+8=9 The only two that don't match up are r and i. Which are both 9. 9+9 =18 But what does it mean? What does H3 think?
MAN EATING HIS OWN EYES 1977
Thursday, July 18, 2013 2:26 PM From dave@denizen7.freeserve.co.uk HOW ARE YOU TODAY?
. 973 EHT NAMUH - 379 THE HUMAN Search this topic… This has nothing to do with the bloody Devil. People see codes and randomness and they just jump "Oh, The Devil!" Stop, dear. I am surprised not many have easily seen the things depicted in eht namuh...it's obviously about "the human". O And...I spent some time on the website...it's not creepy but it still gave me a feeling of despair. It has far too many religious quotes. Hinduism, Christianity, Egyptian myths, etc...some others I am probably not familiar with. Do not be afraid! "OM BHUR BHUVAH SVAHA TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM References to "Kali Yuga" - the Hindu version of the end of days...a warrior on a white horse comes...signifying the end of all...and the cycle begins again! But what is ZED ALIZ ZED? anyone know? "NOWT NOR SUMMAT BEING BEING A SUMMAT AND NOWT" I am getting chills!!! "A Is this an an attempt at creeping people out? Or does it hold mathematical genius and a religious truth? ISIS, MAAT - Egyptian Gods/Goddesses "MOMENT OF MIRRORED OPPOSITES HAS ARRIVED" "AND THAT IS THE VERDICT OF YOU ALL? Oh, GOD NOT "MAA KHERU"!!! BUT "MAAT KHERU" - Egyptian for the voice of truth I am sorry. I am really sorry. AUM MANI PADME HUM - Buddhist mantra Why is it mirrored? Why this extra confusion? Why can the truth never be delivered straight? VE NUS SUN EV - Venus the Goddess and the Sun The cursed women with coarse skin "ANDROGYNOUS CREATIVE LIFE SUSTAINING EVERYTHING" - important. The perfect being is androgynous. The androgynous mind is truly broad. To sustain life - woman and man - held in power - both alike. THAT FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS I am sorry. I feel like crying. I am tired of scrolling. I feel like crying. "HEAREST THOU THIS MY VOICE AND LET MY CRY COME UNTO THEE Brahma created all. Krishna remembers all. We have all but lived many a times. ENOUGH. Don't bid me goodbye. I cannot withstand this by myself. Please, come and help. "THE I despise you for this. "LIGHT AND LIFE Page 197 "By writing the 26 letters of the alphabet in a certain order one may put down almost any message (this book 'is written with the same letters' as the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Winnie the Pooh, only the order of the letters differs). In the same way Nature is able to convey with her language how a cell and a whole organism is to be constructed and how it is to function. Nature has succeeded better than we humans; for the genetic code there is only one universal language which is the same in a man, a bean plant and a bacterium. "BY WRITING THE 26 LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET IN A CERTAIN ORDER How dare you? OSIRIS OSIRIS SIRIUS SIRIUS False prophets. This reeks of arrogance. You command yourself as if you know more. Language is a barrier. OSIRIS - Egyptian God of afterlife Stop being afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of. Everything demands only understanding. Not fear. Overcome fear by understanding. Not by ignoring. The Dog Star - SIRIUS - the brightest star The star God? I don't want to look any more. I want to cry. I am one. Join me to be all
EHT NAMUH 1977
IN THE PADS 1978
dave.d Search this topic… would have asked a few because of dave denison:who is dave.d , why has he only written 4 posts so far and why writes redbeck posts of dave.ds account, does he still live? kafka I would appreciate an understandable answer Dave Denison was a British surrealist artist and mathematician, although he's most known for this site - 973-eht-namuh-973 - which he created. Other than that, he seemed to be really into the occult/religious. I might be wrong on this, but I'm quite sure that he has passed. In regards to Redbeck's connection to Dave D's work, I believe that they are carrying on his legacy, but I would highly appreciate it if Redbeck would clarify this.
Why do you think he's dead? I'm very curious.
PEOPLE OF THE ORACLE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS. WITH RESPECT TO THE QUESTIONS RAISED, YOUR INTEREST IS MUCH APPRECIATED. HERE AM I, ALIVE AND WELL, IN THE STARSHIP. HEARKEN! A MYSTERIOUS VOICE IN THE NIGHT, I DELIGHT IN THE LIGHT IN THE LIGHT I DELIGHT. D FOR DAVE IS THE SOLE MOTIVATING CREATIVE FORCE RESPONSIBLE FOR EXTTERIORIZING AND MAINTAINING THE 973-EH-NAMUH--973 SITE IN IT'S ENTIRETY.AND ADDS TO THE GREAT WORK DAY IN AND DAY OUT. IMPORTANT TO UNDERSAND THAT EVERYTHING PRESENT ON THE SITE HAS BEEN GENERATED FOR AND ON BEHALF OF, VIA THE SAME CALLING. THE MAJORITY OF SYMBOLS, ANIMATIONS, AND TECHNICAL KNOW HOW COMMISIONED TO ORDER, LOCALLY FROM FRIENDS AND OTHER INTERESTED CONTACTS. NEVERTHELESS, THIS WORK HAS RECEIVED IMMEASURABLE HELP FROM COUNTLESS SOURCES IN BOTH CONTENT AND PRESENTATION OF MATERIAL REGARDING THE EVER PRESENT TABLES, ALL WITHOUT EXCEPTION HAVE BEEN CREATED BY HAND IN THE FOLLOWING WAY. FIRSTLY, WRITTEN OUT IN HUNDREDS OF NOTEBOOKS, ALONG WITH ANY OTHER RELEVANT INFORMATION. THEN PAINSTAKINGLY TRANSFERRED INTO THE FORMAT NECESSARY TO PRESENT THEM AS SEEN ON THE INTERNET. THE SITE IS MASSIVE IN CONTENT, AND YET, I AM CONSTANTLY INUNDATED WITH INFORMATION FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE OTHER SIDE IN CONSTANT FLOW. SO NOT ONLY NEW MATERIAL AWAITS ITS TIME, BUT MASSES OF INFORMATION ALREADY AWAKENED AWAITING THEIR MOMENT. MUCH OF IT YEARS OLD. FOR SOME TIME I WAS ABLE TO EMPLOY A WOMAN FRIEND DEAR WENDY,WHO WAS A GREAT HELP IN TRANSCRIBING THE NOTE BOOKS. SADLY THAT CAME TO AN END A FEW YEARS AGO. A GREAT MANY NOTEBOOKS NOW LYING DORMANT, WITH EVERY TABLE RELIANT ON SELF HELP. I HAVE MADE ENQUIRIES IN THE PAST AS TO CREATING A PROGRAMME THAT WOULD FACILITATE THE PROCESS AUTOMATICALLY. HOWEVER AFTER SEVERAL PROMISING RESPONSES, SOME OF WHICH EMANATED FROM ORACLE MEMBERS. NOTHING MATERIALISED. AS A CONSEQUENCE MY SENTENCE TO HARD LABOUR CONTINUES.. ALONGSIDE THIS, EVERYDAY IS SPENT WORKING ON OTHER GIFTS OF THE INNER MINDS I, THAT HAVE TO BE RECORDED AS AND WHEN I CAN. I AM AGED 81, AND NEVER AM I NOT ON CALL TO THE GREAT WORK. THEREFORE, MY DEAR FRIEND AND COUSIN, THE ESTEEMED REDBECK, WHO HAS A GREAT INTEREST IN THE WORK AND WHO HAS MADE SUCH A MASSIVE CONTRIBUTION TO THE ORACLE, IS, BLESSEDLY, AND KINDLY, FACILITATING SUGGESTIONS AND POSTS THAT FROM TIME TO TIME I THINK APPROPRIATE TO BRING TO PUBLIC NOTICE. AND TIME WISE ABSOLUTELY INVALUABLE IN MY DAY TO DAY DAY. THE ILLUSTREOUS REDBECK OVERSEES THE ORACLE AND HIS GREAT AFFINITY AND WISDOM ARE OF IMMENSE VALUE TO THE TASK IN HAND. OF WHICH EVERY MEMBER OF THE ORACLE FORUM BEARS RESPONSIBILITY. YOU WILL KNOW THE OLD ADAGE, SO MUCH TO DO, SO LITTLE TIME. THE TIME THAT IS COMING NOW IS. THE HOURS OF HORUS HAS ARRIVED. GLOBAL WARNING THIS WORK IS THE R IIN EVOLUTION REVOLUTION, THE R IN ELEVATION REVELATION. IT IS THE PROVING OF GOD MIND, UNIVERSAL MIND, THE COSMIC CONCIOUSNESS OF HUMAN MIND. RISE UP AND BE COUNTED DEAR PEOPLE. IN A VERY REAL SENSE THIS IS NOT MY WORK IT IS THE WORK OF THE ALL AND SUNDRY OF PLANET EARTH. LET THE GO DO GOOD GOD BE WITH YOU SAY I. FROM DAVID DENISON. HEREIN THE I'M DENISON DIMENSION. FURTHER IFORMATION. THE SITE HAS BEEN DISPLAYED ON THE INTERNET SINCE THE YEAR 2000 THE UNFOLDING IN WRITTEN FORM BEGAN IN 1995, THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL MUCH EARLIER, AS IF BY MAGIC WILL INTENDED. PRIOR TO THIS CAME THE DYING OF THE DEATH. THE SELF CRUCIFIXION OF THE CRUCIFIXION OF THE SELF. I STARTED PAINTING IN 1963, UNBEKNOWN TO ME I WAS PAINTING IMAGES FOR THE INTERNET BEFORE THERE WAS AN INTERNET 1958, JOINED THE RAF FOR 3 YEARS. 1963 BEGAN 27 YEARS IN THE PRISON SERVICE 2 YEARS AS A DISCIPLINE OFFICER AND THE REST AS A MEDIC. I WAS NEVER A MATHMATICIAN AND SO DEAR PEOPLE, YES! DAVE D IS STILL TREADING THE BOARDS..
It's a rebuke of religion and a reaffirmation of Existentialism/Absurdism. Additionally, it's one hell of a masterpiece, possibly the greatest artistic statement of mankind. Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality.
Beware QuotePost by Beware » 03 Oct 2020 20:05 Post by Beware » 03 Oct 2020 20:05
DISCLOSURE2.png
Oracle
I THAT AM IN SANITY IN AM THAT I
Reddit. Have you seen this website It's purportedly the work of a mad mathematician_ nosleep.mht Reddit.com Metellius.
Somebody tell me more about this site Search this topic… An interesting mix of numerology, gnosis, Christianity, Hinduism... A search for truth? A religion? Pretty mysterious stuff to say the least. What does it mean? Id appreciate a somewhat clear explanation. Tales Of Rabbits. Image ... explorer wrote: ?10 Dec 2020 04:52 explorer wrote: ?10 Dec 2020 04:52 bettter words for it, drop out the pyramid, not symbolic, drop out the pyramid system and look it from outside, from a distance where somebody cant ells you play god, better say you are cause you know why you live, you know who you are, you know why. illumination varies in degrees, shades, colors, and gradients, yet it stems from one all and will return to the same conclusion. It's a rebuke of religion and a reaffirmation of Existentialism/Absurdism. Additionally, it's one hell of a masterpiece, possibly the greatest artistic statement of mankind. Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality. Coddiwomple wrote: ?23 Dec 2020 15:54 Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality. Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality." -CoddyWomple possibly the greatest written statement of mankind. 3301313.1411033 wrote: ?24 Dec 2020 02:33 Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality. Traverse the maze with a rational, atheistic mind, and your revelations will empower and enlighten you. Look out for duality, the absurd, and absurd duality." -CoddiWomple possibly the greatest written statement of mankind.
COMMENT FIRST SEEN 30 JANUARY 2021 https://www.reddit.com/r/AtrocityGuide/comments/l83na3/a_cultist... A cultist website hiding a rabbit hole laid down by a crazy British surrealist painter. What the fuck. I've done some digging of my own and it is a REALLY deep rabbit hole. The website opens with the words "A MAZE IN ABRACADABRA" and when you click on the phrase "A MAZE IN" you're taken to a page with three spinning circles. When you click on these, it takes you to a page with cryptic messages and some clues as to what the site is about. At the bottom of the page are arrows to get to the different pages. There are THOUSANDS of these pages, all with cryptic secrets and codes. I don't fully understand everything on it, but clicking through the pages takes you to different tables that piece together how to decode the site. The website seems to be occult and filled with numerology, cryptology featuring other various coding, religious topics/art and it seems like it is leading to something to be found, some kind of revelation or understanding. Numbers like 9, 7, 5, and 3 have spiritual meaning and are used to decode messages. After some more digging I discovered the Oracle, the forum where members of the site gather to reveal their findings. A lot of the posts on it reference some deeper meaning or truth to life that is found by decoding the site, and the revelation seems to be circular in a way. It takes you back to the beginning of your journey, but now you have the key to fully understand the site. On your final run through, the understanding occurs. Some themes seem to be about a "hivemind" of some sort. One user described quantum entanglement linking human brains together, and that being why we feel empathy. In the same post, he said that people have different interpretations of the site at first, but adopt a universal view when they understand more. The most interesting Oracle post though, at least to me, was made by a user called whiterabbit. He said that he had found the solution to the site and that he wouldn't be responsible for any side effects. The creator of the website is a man named David Denison, a surrealist artist and occultist. He also painted the paintings on the site and describes the site as his life's work.He was reportedly the most well known surrealist painter in the Uk in the 1970s-1980s. Hope you guys found this interesting.
THE LIGHT IS RISING NOW RISING IS THE LIGHT
MAGIC IS AS MAGIC DOES MESSAGE READS TO THE ALL AND SUNDRY OF PLANET EARTH RA IN BOW GOOD WISHES LOVING THE LIGHT AND YOU R OF THE LIGHT DAVE D HEREIN THE I'M DENISON DIMENSION
ITS ONLY OF LATE AS I SIT HERE ALONE AND REFLECT ON THE PASSAGE OF TIME THAT I FEEL THE AGING OF FLESH ON THE BONE THE GREYING OF HAIR AS A SIGN OF A DAY THAT IS LONG AND NOW NEARLY O'ER OF A NIGHT JUST ABOUT TO BEGIN OF THE WORKING IN MAN OF GODS HOLY LAW AND A TIME FOR THE PAYING OF SIN
WILL FOOT NE'R AGAIN SQUELSH SOFT ON WET GRASS NOR TEETH ON RIPE APPLE TO BITE SHALL I NEVER AGAIN DRINK BEER FROM A GLASS WENDING SLOW ON MY WAY FEELING TIGHT. AND WHAT OF THE FRIENDS TO LEAVE BEHIND THE ONES I'VE MET ON THE WAY I WONDER WELL DO YOU THINK THEY'LL MIND DO YOU THINK THEY'LL HAVE OUGHT TO SAY
NOW FEAR BESETS THIS ONE PROUD HEART AND ICE IN THE MARROW I FEEL AT LAST SO IT SEEMS THE TIME COMES TO PART TIRED SOUL FROM THIS BODY TO STEAL
DIMENSION 1965
|
 |
||
|
|
||
|
|
|
|
|
|
||
