Sunday, March 18, 2018


A Feast in love, a curse in sex

Tristan, Yseult & Jacques Coulardeau

 Welsh Triads, Trioedd Ynys Prydein

If love is sex, then it is demoniac possession?

The eternal debate to know if sex and love are the same thing. Note this love affair is sexual but sterile and the result of a curse cast by some philter. Obnoxious heritage.

Synopsis Paie, Nice

Il semble peu utile de résumer le mythe ou la légende ou même les œuvres elles-mêmes, nombreuses et variées. La première version écrite (loin encore d’imprimée) le fut en 1165 par Béroul. Celle-ci fut suivie d’un bouquet de traductions ou adaptations sur les cinquante années suivantes, la plus récente étant de 1226 en norrois, la langue de la Norvège. […]

What follows in this document is the article (no illustrations)
published in July 2015
In Théâtres du Monde
[23,400 words/mots]
Université d’Avignon, France
This article is in French.

You will also find on
Les notes de recherche / The research notes
25 Reviews / Critiques – 153 pages
(richly illustrated / abondantes illustrations)
Mythical Mythological Tristan and Iseult
Tristan et Iseut, un récit mythologique


Si vous aimez le cochon, vous serez gâté et vous apprendrez que l'amour n'est que cochon et truie, mais on vous apprendra aussi que le cochon est un animal divin, de l'autre côté de la barrière du réel. Ne parlons pas de la truie puisqu'elle est l'entremetteuse entre l'homme et la salvation suprême. Ah ! le péché originel ! Revu et corrigé à la graisse de saindoux, de sein-doux, de Saint Doux.

mè misié la
poko dacor
kite bonm
saint doux y soti
y ka soukoué tèt li
o souè pa ni bonm
saint doux
osouè la sé bon gaz ki ni
y décidé sé pou y chapé éé,BONM-SAINT-DOUX,105210573.html

If you like old legends and how they change through centuries, if you consider these old stories have roots in older civilizations, often disappeared, or completely transmuted by time, you will find this Tristan and Iseult story particularly inspiring. People have written so much about it that we have a forest of visions (hiding the simplest trees of common sense) brought by a relatively reduced methodological approaches and methods.

After the article you will find in French first and in English second the reviews of 23 Black plays from the USA published in the same issue of Théâtres du Monde.

Saturday, March 17, 2018


Eternal China for everyone

Fully Common Cosmology For Humanity

First of all, we have to define what cosmology is and there is a lot of debate about it. Here is the introduction to the long article published in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy on “Philosophy of Cosmology,” First published on Tuesday, September 26, 2017:

“Cosmology (the study of the physical universe) is a science that, due to both theoretical and observational developments, has made enormous strides in the past 100 years. It began as a branch of theoretical physics through Einstein’s 1917 static model of the universe (Einstein 1917) and was developed in its early days particularly through the work of Lemaître (1927).[1] As recently as 1960, cosmology was widely regarded as a branch of philosophy. It has transitioned to an extremely active area of mainstream physics and astronomy, particularly due to the application to the early universe of atomic and nuclear physics, on the one hand, and to a flood of data coming in from telescopes operating across the entire electromagnetic spectrum on the other. […]

Friday, March 16, 2018


Poetry without any borders but plenty of frontiers

Poetry, a mental orgasm
The poet, a verbal onanist
Poetry and Poésie in a cosmological drama
Poetry, Oniric and Dramatic (Updated)

No one knows where poetry starts and when poetry stops. It is in all our days, minutes and hours. It is with us all the time though most of us do not see it or realize it is hiding in our pockets.

Poetry comes down with me from my higher floors when I step into the soil of the garden and try to slither between the flowers and among the vegetables. A lady bug is a treat on a green leaf and a bee is a visitor on a rose.

You can easily hear the chirping cicadas and the warbling birds twitting their messages to the whole world, their messages about the coming weather, the impending storm, the unforeseen shower. They know better than we do: they are the poets of nature.

In the evening I close up my shutters and my windows and my doors and I curl up under my featherbed and try to ruminate what I have swallowed too fast during the day.

They all come back, the good, the bad, the evil, the ugly too and the angry above all with their screams and their fiery eyes. They could easily reduce you to ashes and you are no phoenix. Your death will be final, at least in this momentary and transient existence. You may get a second chance beyond the ashes and the flames, reincarnate in bones and blood.

It is so strange that in this moment of revelation about myself it is all sorts of foreign countries or distant places that come back, and this impossibility to step out of myself and merge with the desires of others. Life has been a long harassment for me and death might be a challenge and a change.

Beauty then is the inner dimension of my frustration and the dreamlike appearance of my self-contempt. Poetry is the only way to make peace with my satanic mind and to reach out for a world I imagine more than I apprehend.

We all want to be understood, listened to and maybe liked, a little bit at least. Contact is bliss but it is so hard to go beyond its desire and reach out for the other, the others, the empathy that may be floating around in thin air and that we cannot really feel at the tip of our fingers. We are going on tiptoe in life to avoid any possible stir, and yet the local bully says:

“What are you hiding in your hands, sissy sassy dummy dum-dum dunderhead!”

And in your heart you welcome the contact and say in silence “Nothing, Sir, Mister Master Sir, nothing.”


The cotton-wool of my discomfort
Masturbates my distress
With unbearably delightful cheerlessness
And fondles my blank void-ness
With eternally resting softness
Velvet snug in the cell-lessness
Of this expanding here-ness
Of that overflown there-ness
Deictic directionlessness
Of a heartful of restlessness
Of a restful of heartlessness

The walls have shrunk in front of my eyes
The dancers resisted for a while
But the dark web of my brains
Spidered them over with the white
Of the fleeing screen of ink
That traps the fish
That grounds the tanks
That blinds the shells
And rapes the oyster shrine
That shines in the dimly rosy lips
Of the sea-sand undulating with algae
Dancing with medusae
Swaying with sharks
And rolls the cloudy bouquet
Tasty and crunchy
Like a brownie sprinkled with walnuts
I grin the icing with my golden teeth
And the Rhyne wine twines round my spine
My bonnie bony back formalness
And grinds to ashes
The sweet sugary fumet
Of an herby Irish stew
Steelful like an IRA rifle
Tarful like a highland Scotch
Melts to sparkling crystal
The sweeping sway of my . . .  
. . . Rumbanesque chachawise soukouslike samba

The water chute sprays the air
With the white foam
Of the swelling current
Thrusting through the banks
Through the virginal jungle of Africa
Black and dark as a happy night
Luminous as a sad memory
That lancinates my syndromes
With the recurrence of boredom
The naughtiness of neverdom
The strife of let it be again
The resuming silence of the end
When the violet reclines its head
When the rose lilies its petals
The naked wind of the morning
Breaks through the draping sheets
And vanishes in the mourningful distance
Of a hangover showering down
On the flat bottom of our boxed lives

Only the rug will keep the stain
The flesh will be refreshed
By the absolving cup of coffee
By the pregnant Monday
That will inevitably enwomb our thirst
In the fetal capsule
Of next Saturday night
            Might be
            Might have been
Desire of the never-to-be-remembered


Monday, March 12, 2018


le Racisme - IRL

A regarder d’urgence


Hug-centered loving individuals

Hug Me Tight and Free, Skin to Skin


Que l’on me comprenne bien. Je suis de la génération après Woodstock – j’étais alors en Caroline du Nord – où on commença à voir apparaître dans certains évènements de rue, carnavals ou fêtes plus ou moins foraines des free hugging and kissing booths. C’était une action menée principalement – là où c’était possible – par les ancêtres du mouvement gay encore à peine sortie de leur écrin, de leur placard. L’auteur parle de ce que j’appelle personnellement une embrassade qu’il qualifie de clermontoise où les deux personnes oscillent de droite et de gauche sur leurs pieds comme un métronome. La série américaine « Who’s the Boss ? » défendait en son temps l’embrassade italienne papillon, les mains sur les omoplates de son partenaire d’embrassade et faire trois ou quatre battements de mains si possible vigoureux mais quand même pas trop. Butterfly Hugging. Je suis d’une culture où cette embrassade est normale, même si cela a pris cinq ou six ans à mon assistant pour comprendre l’amour qu’il y a dans une telle embrassade, amour mental et spirituel. J’ai personnellement beaucoup aimé cela en Afrique, entre hommes bien sûr car avec une femme cela devient nécessairement sexuel. J’ai beaucoup regretté au Sri Lanka bouddhiste que le contact physique soit déconseillé, quelque contact physique que ce soit, et dieu sait pourtant si mes moines étudiants et moi-même partagions un amour tout en méditation. […2 586 mots]

Sunday, March 11, 2018


Dying without any health coverage: Trumpcare


This play is magic in many ways because it concentrates a condensed version of an enormous problem in just a few pages, in just a short time with only two characters plus one absent from the stage itself. The two characters are Bob in his early sixties, the uncle, and Josh in his twenties, the nephew. The absent character who opens the play with a long soliloquy by Bob is Sally, Bob’s wife who has left him though she comes by from time to time. She left him because his disease, AIDS, is making him more and more locked up on himself and inside himself, hence excluding everyone else and arguing with them to what we could call the death, his death actually.

Bob is a surprising person. One of the two sons of an industrialist, he was entrusted with the family business when the father died and he nearly ruined it. His brother took over and is still trying to redress and restore it, but he decided to take care of Bob and pay him his living in New York where he is dreaming himself an actor, in vain mostly.

He reveals that he has been attracted by Josh since the boy was eight. This means in him there is a deep pedophile tendency that he repressed. For a long time, he had a married life with probably some clandestine homosexual episodes. But he is one of those crazy people who decided they could not enjoy safe homosexual sex and thus took the risk of getting infested, knowing that it appears Bob is a passive homosexual. And the risk became a reality. Apparently, he accepted to have safe sex with Sally, his wife. At least we can assume this since it is alluded that they still have intercourse and she is healthy.

So why does Josh, a declared heterosexual character, though a drifter in society living more or less on charity from his own father, a bigot hater of homosexuals, with extremely strong and aggressive words against them several times in the play, with his favorite word on the subject being “faggot”? Why indeed? Bob is aggressive, rejects him, orders him to go back home, in vain by the way since Josh has decided to remain and take care of Bob, in spite of all the aggressive violence that develops between them.

There is no real answer to the question except love but Josh’s love is not at the physical level. Bob assumes it is charity and even pity for his sick state. But he is wrong. For Josh that sickness is death and nothing but death and Josh refuses that death. Yet he maintains the contact and we wonder why. Apparently, Bob decides, under Sally’s incitation, to go to an audition somewhere in the suburbs on some kind of amateur project having to do with Hamlet. Josh does not encourage him, and yet his provocative attitude motivates Bob who finally goes. But does he go to really take part in this audition? We can doubt it since Hamlet is traditionally seen as being a late teenager just old enough to go to some university in England. Bob pretends Hamlet is in his late thirties in the text of the play itself, which is surprising since Ophelia is something like fifteen years old and her reaction to being rejected is typical of a teenager. But Bob is in his early sixties which is stretching the age of the young Hamlet a lot.

Sure enough, he did not take part in the audition but he harangued the people there with their total incomprehension of the deep human psyche of Hamlet because they stick to conventional illusions about the character and Shakespeare.

But then Josh is revealed under a new light. His desire to express his love to and for Bob, his desire to physically merge with him, leads him to an incredible act. Since he knows Bob cannot accept safe homosexual sex, to convince him to make love to him he decides to get himself contaminated first and he just goes out and picks the first sick-looking hustler and lets him or makes him impregnate him with the disease. Which is a pure illusion because it takes more time than just one night to get infested, even if you are sure your partner is sick. The disease may take the first time or may not and it will take some time before it appears as you being HIV positive, which is not the disease yet, just the “promise” of it.

Josh at that very moment appears to be out of his mind, out of any kind of sane mind anyway. For Bob to love him, he decides to make it sexual and to literally beg for a homosexual act, which is not love, by the way, but just plain intercourse. To force Bob to accept it he has himself raped by an infested sick man to be sick himself and thus to convince Bob that he can have unsafe sex with him since he is already contaminated.

More than twenty years after the creation of the play we can look at this plot as being typically and uniquely American. In 1995 the treatment to contain AIDS was already advanced and death was no longer the immediate end as it was ten years before still. But this treatment is extremely expensive and most people did not have any health insurance covering that disease since health insurance at the time was mostly specific and covering only some clearly listed risks. What’s more, many Americans did not have any health insurance at all, some 45 million people at the time, and not including illegal immigrants, and to get some health insurance after knowing that you were HIV positive, a test result being required by the insurance company, would have you refused automatically. Yet at the time Bill Clinton was introducing some measures to cover the disease with Medicare and Medicaid, but true enough not the full and expensive treatment, rather a reduced treatment that did not guarantee survival for a long time. That explains why Josh says Bob is ruining the family business since his father is taking care of his own brother, hence is paying for the treatment.

Strangely enough then the main interest of the play today is sociological about the basic problem in America: health insurance that is NOT universal, far from it, in spite of Obamacare and thanks to the various attempts at Trumpcare. The sacrifice of Josh on the AIDS sacrificial altar to be able to express his love to his uncle is a barbaric solution, an insane decision and a totally deranged vision of the two men frolicking in bed exchanging their respective AIDS viruses, united in that act and even united by the death that will necessarily ensue. It is an anthropological regression to the time of human civilizations that practiced human sacrifice to expurgate evil from society. Imagine in America the common practices of Aztecs, Mayas and many others in Central and South America. Imagine the Northern American Indians dismembering and slicing up war prisoners to celebrate their victory and hanging the various body parts around the camp and settlement. Imagine the Spaniards cutting hands and feet of all male Indians considered as pagan hostile beasts, and left there to die of their own bleeding limbs.

The worst imaginable horror in the name of love. That’s what AIDS produces in a society where universal health insurance does not exist. Opioids to die smiling and even laughing.



Saturday, March 10, 2018


The slow emergence of Homo Sapiens from 300,000 years ago onward

Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU & Ivan EVE

Editions La Dondaine – 2017


Cro-Magnon’s language is an ambitious project in phylogenic linguistics. The objective is to go back to the shift from animal to human articulated language. Homo Sapiens some 300,000 years ago, found himself endowed with mutations selected by his being a long distance fast bipedal runner: a very low larynx; a complex articulating apparatus; a sophisticated coordinating system bringing together diaphragm, breathing, heartbeat, legs, and general body posture. These three physiological improvements permitted new linguistic possibilities: more consonants; more vowels; a brain able to construct a mind both producing and produced by articulated language. This developed the ability to conceptualize and develop abstract thinking.

The phylogeny of language from a purely linguistic and cognitive point of view activates three articulations to generate human language: vowels and consonants; the morphology of the word from root to stem and then frond; the syntactic structures of utterances. This is based on the communicational syntax conveyed by the human communicational situation that requires the power to conceptualize, both daily procedural communication and inter/intra-generational cognitive and didactic communication.

Homo Sapiens evolved in Africa from previous hominins (Homo Faber or Homo Ergaster) that already migrated out of Africa to the Middle East and Central Asia where Neanderthals and Denisovans respectively evolved from them. The nest of this evolution is debated due to recent archaeological discoveries, but the first migration was in Africa from sub-Saharan Africa to Northern Africa. Then out of Africa.

I assume the migrations took place every time the phylogeny of language stabilized on the basis of each articulation. The first migration was on the basis of the simple consonant-vowel articulation producing root languages (all consonantal root languages). The second migration on the basis of the morphological articulation produced stems categorized as nouns or verbs, spatial or temporal. These languages are isolating invariable-character languages. The third migration corresponded to the production of fronds, words syntactically categorized as functional nominals and conjugated verbals ready to build syntactic utterances. The communicational syntax was essential to build discourse in root language and little by little was integrated in langue itself reducing the extension and role of discourse, and in the last forms many categories integrated in words are exteriorized outside the words as determiners, prepositions, auxiliaries, adverbs, thus realizing in langue abstract systems of categorizing operations and forms.

These migrations lead us to three phylogenic linguistic families: consonantal root languages; isolating invariable-character stem languages; and agglutinative or synthetic-analytical frond languages. These languages spread in the world along with the successive migrations of Homo Sapiens. The answer then to the question about Cro-Magnon’s language is simple and clear: an agglutinative Turkic set of languages and dialects we could call Old European languages to be replaced after the Ice Age by Indo-European languages coming from the Iranian plateau and Mesopotamia.

Follow the detail of this exploration in this book, a lifetime research and exploration and the first stage of a vaster research. The next stage is the linguistic psychogenesis of human children and language learners. That next stage will come soon. The final stage will be the exploration of how acculturation-deculturation-acculturation is the very human process of human civilization and corresponds to the Buddhist birth-death-rebirth vision invented in the other branch of Indo-Iranian languages, viz. the Indo-Aryan languages that migrated from the same nest as Indo-European languages but east instead of west.

Final Invite

This is the introduction to the first part of my research on the phylogeny of language since the emergence of Homo Sapiens some 300,000 years ago, at least.

I try to coordinate the phylogeny of articulated human language onto the migrations of Homo Sapiens out of Africa and I get to the idea that the main three linguistic families can be thus ordered in time as well as along with the dispersal of man across the face of the earth.

This introduction is submitted to discussion and all remarks and contribution will be integrated into the final work to be published within a few months.

I thank you for your time and your remarks and I hope you do enjoy the summer.




This file gives you the introduction of what is the first part of a long research that has been going on for most of my life and has been progressively intensified since 2005 when I moved to Paris Sorbonne, and other Paris private or public universities.

This first part counts seven chapters.

CHAPTER ONE: The Triple Articulation of Language
CHAPTER TWO: Phylogeny and Migrations
CHAPTER THREE: Agglutinative Language
CHAPTER FOUR: Theo Vennemann
CHAPTER FIVE: The Migrations
CHAPTER SIX: Darwinization in Question
CHAPTER SEVEN: Where Gustave Guillaume Meets with Sally McBrearty

This long introduction gives all the concepts and procedures used in the research. I submit this file for discussion before the publication of the whole work (the first part only though, seven chapters). The second part is ready to go through its final proofreading and assessment, which will take at least six months of hard work.

I hope you enjoy reading these pages and I hope you take part in the discussion. I will integrate, in a way or another, all remarks or contributions in the final published work. At the present moment the manuscript counts 372 pages with 347 pages of text and 23 pages of notes (514 notes so far), and 228,379 words at (the) last count.

I have added some pictures in this introduction to make it easier to read. These pictures are all rock face paintings dated, most of them, from before the Ice Age, from all over the world. The oldest are from Indonesia and those from Baja California are undated due so far to the fact that the colors used by the people who painted these rocks do not contain any charcoal or carbon. More advanced dating procedures have not yet been used. The meaning is clear: no matter where these Homo Sapiens migrated they took along with them one or several languages, first and some other capabilities, abilities, and competencies that made them do very similar things in very different conditions. Homo Sapiens has always been a communicational being with articulated languages and appetency for spiritual and artistic endeavors.

I consider that was unique with Homo Sapiens though some other Hominins had varying degrees of such tools and potentials, but apparently none equaled Homo Sapiens’ survival capability.

Olliergues October 9, 2017
(Ivan Eve just back from a journey around the world with his love partner)

Research Interests:

ArchaeologyAnthropologyLanguages and LinguisticsOrigin of LanguagePhylogeny,  

Wednesday, March 07, 2018


A lot of hear-say that flatters anti-Trump plotters


The book was made a success as soon as the White House and Trump’s lawyers tried to prevent its publication. But was it worth it? Is it worth all the interest it got for a couple of weeks, maybe a month?

The journalism practiced in this book is first of all a lot too long. What could be said in twenty pages is diluted into one hundred? That makes some pages, many pages so boringly detailed with semantically repetitive elements that it could have been stripped down to one and only one expression.

The second irritating element is that it is some kind of pseudo-fictionalized reporting based on a few facts, a few rumors and a few cogitations from the author but all in all little real serious factual objective reporting. Many of the elements put forward are hear-say and nothing but hear-say. It might be true the author was told this or that by someone who was a first tier or second tier witness of something. But it is unreceivable in court. It is hear-say.

Then do we have to believe it? Of course not. But for some time these at times hardly believable pages become the latest gospel against Trump. But this gospel contains little. It is even less acceptable than the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus because Nicodemus was for most of the things he speaks of an attested witness or even actor of the events he reports. Michael Wolff is none of that.

It is true it will satisfy the anti-Trump cohorts and it will thrill the pro-plotting-theory bigots since it will go their way. Trump is so limited at all levels that he must be the puppet of some manipulating Deus ex Machina that is of course not identified. So every version of the basic plotting theory that says everything that happens is the result of the decisions of a group of half a dozen obscure shadowy and shady people, will be nourished and nurtured with new allegations, hear-say assertions, and rumors.

In one word this book should never have gotten the attention, care and promotion it got from the White House, except if Trump knows the basic fact that there is no bad critique or review, there is only high-sounding and noisy review or critique. This book is helping Trump occupy the front of the stage in the limelight for a few weeks and then he will have to find something else like tariffs on steel and aluminum. Make waves and it will leave an imprint in the sand of the beach all the bigger if your waves are really big.


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