Tritype 146

Now We See Through A Glass Darkly

George Harrison sp/sx 1w9(2w1)-4w5(3w4)-6w5(7w6)

It’s not surprising that Harrison went to Clapton for help when the other Beatles ignored “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”. Enneagrammically Clapton is a more forceful extroverted version of himself.

Eric Clapton sp/sx 1w2(9w1)-4w3(3w2)-6w5(7w6) or something very close to that.

Diamanda Galas sp/sx 6w5(5w4)-1w9(2w1)-4w3(5w4) She was propelled to fame when she wrote Plague Mass after the death of hr brother in the early days of AIDS. “This is the law of the plague”.

Double-Barrel Prayer
Diamanda Galás
Album You Must Be Certain of the Devil
1 2
The dogs have come today
The dogs have come to stay
It’s time to get your gun out
And drive the dogs away

They can smell your blood inside
It’s loo late lo go and hide
The dogs are’ on their way
Prepare yourself today

Glory to God in the highest
And on earth peace to men of good will
We praise thee; we bless thee;
We adore thee; we glorify thee
We give thanks to thee for thy great glory
O lord God, Heavenly King
God the Father Almighty
O Lord, the only begotten son, Jesus Christ
O Lord, lamb of God, son of the Father

The dogs know when you’re sleeping
They know when you’re awake
How fast your heart is heating
So be ready, or too late

They’ll drag you by the collar
And they’ll take you through the town
Your friends can help no longer
Once your ass is on the ground

You Must Be Certain of the Devil
Diamanda Galás
Welcome welcome welcome
welcome to the Holy Day
brother brother brother
sister sister sister
you must be certain of the Devil
on the Holy Day
You must be certain on the Holy Day
The flies are coming, mother
and the end of the day
The flies are coming, daddy
to steal my soul away
The flies are coming, sister
serve your brother while you may
Welcome to the Holy Day
Welcome to the Holy Day
You must be certain of the Devil
because he knows your name
You must be certain of the Devil
because he’s counting on your shame
You must be certain of the Devil
because he’s master of the game
You must be certain of the Devil right now
It’s time to take sides
don’t wait up for nobody
It’s time to realize
there’s no victim but the willing
It’s time to recognize
no one waits for the dead man
No one but the Lord of the Flies
You must be certain of the Devil
because he knows your name
You must be certain of the Devil
because he’s counting on your shame
You must be certain of the Devil
or you’ll lose your aim
You must be certain of the Devil right now.
Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God:
defend me from them that rise up against me.
Deliver me from the workers of iniquity,
and save me from bloody men.
Be not merciful to the wicked transgressors:
They run and prepare themselves without
my fault: awake to help me and behold:
They belch out with their mouths: swords
are in their lips: for who, say they, doth hear?
But thou, O Lord, shall laugh at them.
The God of my mercy shall let me see
my desire upon mine enemies.
And at evening let them return, and let
them make a noise like a dog, and go round
about the city, let them walk up and down
for meat, and grudge if they be not satisfied.
Because of his strength I will wait upon thee:
for God is my defense. Scatter them by thy power and break
their teeth, O God, in their mouth:
Bring them down, O Lord, our Shield.
You must bo certain of the Devil
because he knows your name
You must be certain of the Devil
because he’s counting on your shame
You must be certain of the Devil
because he’s certain of you
You must be certain of the Devil
right now.
The good man is present on the Holy Day
The good man is ready on the HOLY Day
The good man is steady on the Holy Day
Welcome to the Holy Day.
The key to the city
is to the man who doesn’t run
The key to the city
is to the man who takes a gun
The key to the city
is to the man who keeps his friend
and to the man who doesn’t leave him till the end.
The road to the city is paved in desolation
The road to the city is paved in tribulation
The road to the city is paved in desperation
Welcome to the Holy Day.
The road to the city is paved in resignation
The road to the city is paved in desertion
The road to the city is paved in devotion
Welcome to the Holy Day.
Welcome to the Holy Day.

 W.B. Yeats 1w2 with 4w5 and 6w5 stacking i.d.k. He was actually briefly a member of Parliament. Tritype 146 is caught between the City of Man and the City of God. St. Augustine with his Confessions was probably 146

The Second Coming

“These poems, which appeared in Words for Music Perhaps, continue the theme of Dialogue between self and soul, but locate the resolution of that poem in the figure of Jane, whose insanity becomes coextensive with a sort of natural, pre-reflective knowledge, won by long experience. The idea of “the hero” get here re-written for the last time: from the early magic, to the political martyr, to the metaphysical traveler, and now to the folk woman who will not separate body and soul.”

Yeats Poems

Robin Goldsmith Sx/So fireside 6w7(7w8)-4w5(3w4)-1w2(9w1) 

Crazy Jane “caught somewhere between the city and the sea”

I wrote this poem at around 30 in I think 1990 and shared with a few people last year to illustrate what I’ve perceived as an oscillation between extreme extroversion and extreme introversion throughout my life. When I wrote it I was at the hub of a performance scene in downtown Manhattan. The East Village was undergoing gentrification and the scene was morphing out of a harder grittier underground. And so we would often all run into each other at a new sidewalk cafe on Avenue A, mostly people would gather around me. And one of our people was a young so/sx 7w6-9w1-2w3 in retrospect, who dressed like over a rainbow too. She was from London and one day her boyfriend from there just showed up; his name was Stuart, and he was an extreme introvert, maybe sx/p–>so/sx 5w4-9w1-2w1, and she treated him badly and I was very drawn to him. So we two hung out a lot for the duration of his short stay, nothing sexual. And I wrote this while he was still in New York. 
* * *
Stuart Listens (Icarus Rising)
Stuart listens to the voices of his soul saying
no man is an island but only I am
and it is only fitting that
on this glistening summer night
caught somewhere between the city and the sea
I am blinded by his eyes.

They remind me of all the still things this Saturday night and
and of every promise I have made that has been broken
by these the neon-colored people
sleeping awake into their pink drinks the
frozen margaritas of the city awake their
eyes wide open while the rest of the city sleeps their
lids pasted open their no exit eyes. And
it is these the zombies who most am I.

I press my face to the lights outside like a
moth caught between the window and the
screen, flapping fluttering I
seek the flashing lights. But

Stuart listens to the voices of his island that
come in waves in the deep of the night and
and it only fitting that on this
most hideous of every nights
something of him rises in me like the tide.

Stuart listens but I on the other hand a driven by
the city and the bedrock and its ghosts who sleep beneath but
he-scorpio rising-always hears the dead speak in a
constant trickle of water and it
hits you below the belt and
it’s a hard on but
it’s hard on me.

I took you to the river that is closest to the sea.
This is the empty sea I said this is the only sea I know.
We witnessed

garbage hookers piles of abandoned cars hospitals
spewing their dead to the wind all
the things of the swamp which lie just below the
neon signs they slop on burritos the
lavender hair spray fluorescent green eyes the
apples that shine from the traffic 
lights red green golden delicious the
lidless incandescent shimmers and
all the pink drinks on avenue a that stink of the living’s craving to
be alive, to

walk sleepwalking
incessant among the living who
hum like machinery zap like transformers sapping
the life out of themselves as the
snake swallows its tail in
of rock ‘n roll
of pick up bars
of food lines waiting in tompkins square park for
hare krishna’s pink drinks and robes, who

glisten, who
shriek who
seem to say well
wherever we’re going we’re going gaily but

Stuart listens to the echo of the trickle of the deep dark things that
come eroding into the night
ground water 
dribbling slowly
way through the 
soul and its 
crevices but I on the 
hand am driven by th city and its desperate quest to be among the living I

try to listen who am I
kidding? I
press my face to the lights outside,
flapping, fluttering, mesmerized

Stuart they tell me once he chased a butterfly
Crossed the sea on a giant bird with a golden net he
wove of his dreams. And that
butterfly fluttered with the gayest of colors that
butterfly laughed in the merriest way that
butterfly sang him the songs of the neon and they
told him not to go but 
he wouldn’t listen oh no not
Stuart he was

because Stuart is a fool.

He leaves me every night on avenue c. I buy
brightly colored fruit spit the
pits snd off to bed. Bolt the
window close the screen the
cat litter stinks but it’s
nothing I hear in the 
sanctuary of my room. I
listen. I can’t stop. But it’s nothing I hear.

Brown like the moth I scrounge the closets.
Bright like the moth I flutter by.
Blind like the moth I seek the lightbulb. It
sizzling burns and like the moth I die.
Icarus, Icarus

Marina Abramovic sp/sx–>sx/so 1w2(9w1)-6w7(5w6)-4w3(5w4) or something like that.  Marina Abramovic is considered the most important performance artist. sp/sx–>sx/so and definitely 146 in some order. It would be easy to say sp 4 voluntary stoic endurance of pain leads but she is WAY too gutty and statuesque for 4 lead, also too prone to giving sermons. (see Manifesto below). 

John Donne 641 probably so/sx and 7 wing. 

Holy Sonnets: Batter my Heart, three-person’d God by John Donne

Marguerite Duras, screenwriter, playwright, and novelist, is a 4 leading example of this tritype. Something like so/sx 4w3(5w4)-6w7(5w6)-1w2(9w1). “Hiroshima Mon Amour” is also a possible name for this tritype.This tritype is excruciatingly aware of its existential position within time.










“‘At the end of the book, Duras muses over ways in which it could be presented as a play or as a film. ‘He ought to disappear from view, to be lost in the theatre just as he is lost in time, and then to return into the light, to us. Another suggestion is that he walks around the young woman; a third is that the ‘man the story is about would never appear’.” 

Spotlight on Marguerite Duras

Dante so/sp 641 or something close to that.

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

Dante’s Inferno

Ayn Rand so/sp–>sp/sx 1w9(2w1)-6w5(7w6)-4w3(3w2) or something like that, may need tweaking but she was 164, not 163 as is often claimed, and 6 not 5 fixed.