Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Moby Dick and Hilma’s Treasures: a weekend when books soared, life and art mingled amid a blizzard of flyers at the Guggenheim, mirroring each other dancing with the shades and shadows


 
Scenes  from  book group, Hilma Klint's treasures,  and the Guerrilla Girls. 




Donna Aceto - Guggenheim_Met Shame on Sackler Demo against Board...
Put on by Artist activists Nan Goldin, LA Kaufman and P.A.I.N. (Prescription Addiction Intervention Now) joined by VOCAL NY & RAR 

Its Tuesday and I'm  still thinking about the action we had and the book we read,
the dancing and the poems of our days here,
falling apart,
trying to stand,
holding each other up if we can.

Some days, I just wonder what I’m doing.
I can barely hold on.
Or I stumble. 
Friday, I rode up to 54th street in Manhattan
a double parked car door crashing into my bike before I could swerve away,
cars to my left, rows double parked to my  right,
thud, crack, my neck, ow, my shins bleeding,
the driver screaming at me,
I hobbled away,
could have been worse.
That could have been it.
Benjamin and Huck Finn and Brad Will, together again.
But I was ok.
Before the street imitates the news stories,
another dead cyclist, 
wading out into a sea of cars,
fighting a hegemony of steel,
burping  out exhaust,
enveloped into  the abyss.   

Riding wobbly, feeling worse,
another punch from the sky,
maybe the universe is trying to tell  me somthing?
Look out!

I thought about that all the way
back home.

Still had 90 pages to read in Moby Dick for
the AiR Reading Group.
 LAK wrote to say
an action was planned for Saturday during our
reading group.
You can’t cancel reschedule book group any more,
members told me.
All week we scheduled and debated when
where to meet,
amidst conscientious objections here,
and busy schedules there.
A majority on the email list agree to meet
an hour early so I could get to the action.

Arriving home,
I dozed and read,
in between movies and dinner and boxing highlight reels
and other distractions till 300 am.
Woke up at six am,
read some Moby Dick and got ready for my 9 am
group work class,
wondering about the AiR group,
and the trouble
we were having scheduling our reading group later  in  the day.
There is process and there is content.
I didn’t feel up for attending to process.
Hopefully we could just stick to content.
by 1145 am I was back  home after class.
What are you doing here dad?
asked the little one.
Got reading group, need to finish the last 50 pages
of Moby.
But you’re usually out now.
I had to skip das kapital reading group today
to finish the leviathan.
Two  more hours,
Three more days before Ahab is consumed.
you can’t win against nature,
Starbuck warns the captain.
Turn back.
It’s the folly of man.
Napoleon learned  it in Russia.
Hitler  made the same mistake,
From of a quiet sea and 500 pages
the whale sticks its head out of the water,
Looks at us,
Snaps his tail and its over.
Mesmerized,
Someone was at the door.
The buzzer is ringing,
The Cannibal Girls are rehearsing.
The AiR crew dropping by,
Gladys and Joan e,
and Emily and Catherine.
Dave and Vicki,
Mark and Caroline
and Deb, without conscientious objections.
“Forgive  me  for being caffeinated and passionate,” gushed Catherine.
“I wanna write an essay about trying to schedule the book club,” Mark laughed.
Everyone has their angle when they read a book like this.
Some  see  the history of misogyny here.
Others a critique of heteronormativity, capital, and colonialism. 
You can see anything  if you look hard enough.
I had an hour and 45 minutes to chat before I made my way to the Met,
an hour in the cold riding to meet LAK
and  Monica and friends for the big zap.
The Guerilla Girls were there.
and so were many of my friends.
I greeted the trees on the way, 
recalling snowy days long past
on Central Park East,
kids sledding on colder days
that seem to elude us.
Hurry up and wait for the action,
to meet everyone at the Met.
Looking for the signal at the Guggenheim.
Talking  with the Guerilla Girls
about Hilma Klint,
her paintings on the  walls.
She died and no one cared,
like so many of the greats.
Years before Kandinski or Mondrian.
“Do women have to be naked to get into U.S. museums?”
Frida asked  in 1985.
Well, Hilma got in,
but  she had to be dead first.
Not much has changed.
The  museum is still a site of contestation.
There is  a security guard looking  at us. 
Lets  pretend we’re here to see art.
So we wander over to visit
Hilma’s treasures as we case our spot.
Taking in her,

The New Yorker reports:
People snap pictures.
A blizzard of white flyers fall from above,
On cue, we drop our banner.

We march down 5th!!!
Revolting Lesbians are still railing about Mercer,
at the Museum of Natural  History.
Kick off the board god damn it.
And artists are still pushing fossil fuels out of culture
at the Tate Modern.
As we unpeel the histories of our colonial past,
the ruins and wreckage,
dead souls,
and artists pushed back against a commodity fetish
transforming ideas into  money,
our lives reified by the minute.

And made our way downtown.
Stopping at Curry n a Hurry on 28th and Lex,
 like the old days,
visiting Brennan in the East village,
gossiping with Drew.

Babs and I chat about the action  Friday.
What would have happened if I’d watched my body fly
over the door on Friday night?
Feet in the air,
my body landing on Jay Street,
cars rolling,
where we’ve organized thousands of rides
and zaps.
Still everyone double parks on the bike lanes.
The ironies oozing,
15 minutes of fame coming and  going.
My soul passing from this life to the next.
But it wasn’t  to  be.
I’m still here.
Looking around, 
Bodies dancing,
Brennan spinning.

The peddles moving on my way back home.
To hang with Albert F.
RIP
The calming voice who was always there
through my life.
With  Erin Brockovich and his Dresser
and Tom Jones and Daddy Warbucks
and the Big Fish,
where Ian McGregor seemed to channel him.

You had a rough week dad.
but I’m actually glad to be going  to Judson,
declared the little one Sunday morning walking  to the subway.
We ran into TW and Karan
and walked up to 42nd street,
past Duane Reads and banks and guys selling
this and that.
past Starbucks and shuttered stores.
A blandified landscape.
No one wanted to call the coffee Ahab,
The reasonable first  mate got the name,
the wildness of the city dwindling along with Ahab,
lost in a sea of identical  details.
Up to explore our favorite bookstore and sub  back to Brooklyn.
Where we lite a fire after the wild weekend.
Tom Jones  survives.

Melville is with me all the time.
Call me Ishmael
"God hears or God Harkens”
Keep unpeeling  and unpeeling.
Ishmael and Queequeg,
becoming the best of friends,
transcending place and station.


If only we all  could?
Maybe we should?

(A few more notes  about the big fish
later in this blog.)




































































The little one goofing about on a Sunday and a Rockwell Kent of Moby Dick. 


A few notes on  Moby Dick and friendship, an ocean feeling and an encounter with otherness.

The early chapters concern the burgeoning  friendship between Ishmael and Queequeg becoming “bosom friends.” We all  make  friends who remind us to be bigger and wider, more a part of things  than  we possibly could imagine. These narratives foreshadow a queer sensibility, which would only become more and more  pronounced.  


“I began to feel myself mysteriously drawn towards him. And those same things that would have repelled most others, they were the very magnets that thus drew me. I’ll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy. I drew my bench near him, and made some friendly signs and hints, doing my best to talk with him meanwhile. At first he little noticed these advances; but presently, upon my referring to his last night’s hospitalities, he made out to ask me whether we were again to be bedfellows. I told him yes; whereat I thought he looked pleased, perhaps a little complimented.
We then turned over the book together, and I endeavored to explain to him the purpose of the printing, and the meaning of the few pictures that were in it. Thus I soon engaged his interest; and from that we went to jabbering the best we could about the various outer sights to be seen in this famous town. Soon I proposed a social smoke; and, producing his pouch and tomahawk, he quietly offered me a puff. And then we sat exchanging puffs from that wild pipe of his, and keeping it regularly passing between us.
If there yet lurked any ice of indifference towards me in the Pagan’s breast, this pleasant, genial smoke we had, soon thawed it out, and left us cronies. He seemed to take to me quite as naturally and unbiddenly as I to him; and when our smoke was over, he pressed his forehead against mine, clasped me round the waist, and said that henceforth we were married; meaning, in his country’s phrase, that we were bosom friends; he would gladly die for me, if need should be. In a countryman, this sudden flame of friendship would have seemed far too premature, a thing to be much distrusted; but in this simple savage those old rules would not apply.
After supper, and another social chat and smoke, we went to our room together. He made me a present of his embalmed head; took out his enormous tobacco wallet, and groping under the tobacco, drew out some thirty dollars in silver; then spreading them on the table, and mechanically dividing them into two equal portions, pushed one of them towards me, and said it was mine. I was going to remonstrate; but he silenced me by pouring them into my trowsers’ pockets. I let them stay. He then went about his evening prayers, took out his idol, and removed the paper fireboard. By certain signs and symptoms, I thought he seemed anxious for me to join him; but well knowing what was to follow, I deliberated a moment whether, in case he invited me, I would comply or otherwise.
I was a good Christian; born and bred in the bosom of the infallible Presbyterian Church. How then could I unite with this wild idolator in worshipping his piece of wood? But what is worship? thought I. Do you suppose now, Ishmael, that the magnanimous God of heaven and earth—pagans and all included—can possibly be jealous of an insignificant bit of black wood? Impossible! But what is worship?—to do the will of God—that is worship. And what is the will of God?—to do to my fellow man what I would have my fellow man to do to me—that is the will of God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man. And what do I wish that this Queequeg would do to me? Why, unite with me in my particular Presbyterian form of worship. Consequently, I must then unite with him in his; ergo, I must turn idolator. So I kindled the shavings; helped prop up the innocent little idol; offered him burnt biscuit with Queequeg; salamed before him twice or thrice; kissed his nose; and that done, we undressed and went to bed, at peace with our own consciences and all the world. But we did not go to sleep without some little chat.
How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts’ honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair.”

Ishmael and Queequeg become close. Yet, there is a dialectical quality to this friendship.  As Ishmael  confesses in Nightgown: “We felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself.”

            Indeed, nothing exists in itself.

“I was only alive to the condensed confidential comfortableness of sharing a pipe and a blanket with a real friend. With our shaggy jackets drawn about our shoulders, we now passed the Tomahawk from one to the other, till slowly there grew over us a blue hanging tester of smoke, illuminated by the flame of the new-lit lamp.
Whether it was that this undulating tester rolled the savage away to far distant scenes, I know not, but he now spoke of his native island; and, eager to hear his history, I begged him to go on and tell it.  He gladly complied.”

The tender moments between the two men were many, engaged in the practice of friendship and storytelling: “He at once resolved to accompany me to that island, ship aboard the same vessel, get into the same watch, the same boat, the same mess with me, in short to share my every hap; with both my hands in his, boldly dip into the Potluck of both worlds. To all this I joyously assented; for besides the affection I now felt for Queequeg, he was an experienced harpooneer, and as such, could not fail to be of great usefulness to one, who, like me, was wholly ignorant of the mysteries of whaling, though well acquainted with the sea, as known to merchant seamen.
His story being ended with his pipe’s last dying puff, Queequeg embraced me, pressed his forehead against mine, and blowing out the light, we rolled over from each other, this way and that, and very soon were sleeping.”

Yet the center could not hold. A whole new queer sensibility was born from this writing.  As Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick gushed about Billy Budd’s nemesis “presented as different in his essential nature than the normal men around him.”   Eves been gone ten years now.  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

 Over time, we lose contact with Queequeg. DH Lawrence points out that having known Queequeg, Ishmael gets back to wale hunting.  “Queequeq must be “known” then dropped into oblivion.”  Men conquer and move forward.

Erections come and go in this book, as civilizations crumble in vainglorious folly:

“But I now leave my cetological System standing thus unfinished, even as the great Cathedral of Cologne was left, with the crane still standing upon the top of the uncompleted tower. For small erections may be finished by their first architects; grand ones, true ones, ever leave the copestone to posterity. God keep me from ever completing anything. This whole book is but a draught—nay, but the draught of a draught. Oh, Time, Strength, Cash, and Patience!”

Full of symbols, whiteness is both a signifier of “power” and “appalling…”

But not yet have we solved the incantation of this whiteness, and learned why it appeals with such power to the soul; and more strange and far more portentous—why, as we have seen, it is at once the most meaning symbol of spiritual things, nay, the very veil of the Christian’s Deity; and yet should be as it is, the intensifying agent in things the most appalling to mankind.”

In the face of this greed, the world’s riches must be “guarded from the all grasping western world.”

We consume for resources, devouring all  we can find, powering and illuminating, energy releasing.

The question of sperm extends, providing light throughout the story, no further however than in “A Squeeze of the Hand.”:

“I bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma,—literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger; while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.
Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say,—Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy!

Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.
Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fireside, the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti.”

God knows, we all have moments  like this  from time to time, our fingers sticky, cum rags needing washing. Yet, what of our relationship to the other?

“So seemed it to me, as I stood at her helm, and for long hours silently guided the way of this fire-ship on the sea. Wrapped, for that interval, in darkness myself, I but the better saw the redness, the madness, the ghastliness of others. The continual sight of the fiend shapes before me, capering half in smoke and half in fire, these at last begat kindred visions in my soul, so soon as I began to yield to that unaccountable drowsiness which ever would come over me at a midnight helm.”

Back to basics, with Ulysses and Whitman we sail, in a metaphysical sea of ideas. Is every sperm sacred? 

“There she blows!” and away they fly to fight another whale, and go through the whole weary thing again. Oh! my friends, but this is man-killing! Yet this is life. For hardly have we mortals by long toilings extracted from this world’s vast bulk its small but valuable sperm; and then, with weary patience, cleansed ourselves from its defilements, and learned to live here in clean tabernacles of the soul; hardly is this done, when—There she blows!—the ghost is spouted up, and away we sail to fight some other world, and go through young life’s old routine again.
Oh! the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage—and, foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope!”

Yet, what of the mystery of the sea?  We know practically nothing of it. Freud passed out, contemplating it, overwhelmed  by  his  encounters with the sea of his unconscious thoughts, its waves reminding him of everything he did not really know, rational  thoughts  eluding him.  He called it, an ocean  feeling, encountering this thing much larger than himself, beyond his conscious mind.  He explored these sensations in Future of an Illusion and Civilization and Its Discontents, writing: “I can imagine that the oceanic feeling could become connected with religion later on. That feeling of oneness with the universe which is its ideational content sounds very like a first attempt at the consolations of religion....”

Seventy five years before, Melville explores  these sentiments in in chapter 111.   The crew of  the Pequod sail by the Bashee isles into “the great South Sea.”  The author describes the scene:
“I could have greeted my dear Pacific with uncounted thanks, for now the long supplication of my youth was answered; that serene ocean rolled eastwards from me a thousand leagues of blue.
There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those fabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St. John. And meet it is, that over these sea-pastures, wide-rolling watery prairies , eand Potters’ Fields of all four continents, the waves should rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumb..”

As if he were  talking about a dream, like civilizations ebbing and flowing unceasingly, the author reminds us, no one can conquer nature.  Its better we dance  with mixed shades and shadows. 

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  10. I has suffered for Human papillomavirus HPV) for 2years, I was given some tablets at the hospital but I refused to take it, They said I have to be on it for life so I don't want take a drugs everyday for life. No point in taking medicine everyday when u won't get cure from it and I was advice to seek for natural herbal cure, after some time I found dr onokun is the most trustful herbalist that have herbs to cure wicked symptom's,I emailed dr onokun, for 2weeks been his patient he cured my (HPV) with his herbal. I only used his natural herbs for two weeks it was 100% cure. I'm not (HPV) patient anymore. I'm happy about it i finally got cured out of this mess been in my body for 2years. I also recommend you if you're living with (HPV) or herpes symptoms i also want you to be free contact dr onokun with the email attach to my post. Dronokunherbalcure@gmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  11. Hello Everyone out there,I am here to give my testimony about a Herbalist doctor who helped me . I was infected with HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS in 2011, i went to many hospitals for cure but there was no solution, so I was thinking how can I get a solution out so that my body can be okay. One day I was in the river side thinking where I can go to get solution. so a lady walked to me telling me why am I so sad and i open up all to her telling her my problem, she told me that she can help me out, she introduce me to a doctor who uses herbal medication to cure HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS and gave me his email, so i mail him. He told me all the things I need to do and also give me instructions to take, which I followed properly. Before I knew what is happening after two weeks the HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS that was in my body got vanished . so if you are also heart broken and also need a help, you can also email him at {oliha.miraclemedicine@gmail.com}
    or whatsapp him number: +2349038382931. or website is https://olihamiraclemedicine.webs.com/
    Contact him today and you will have a testimony...Good luck!

    Dr. OLIHA Also Cures:
    1. HIV/AIDS
    2. HERPES 1/2
    3. CANCER
    4. ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease)
    5. Hepatitis B
    6. chronic pancreatic
    7. Emphysema
    8. COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease

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  12. I was diagnosed of herpes virus, I have tried all possible means to get cure but all my effort proved abortive, until a friend of mine introduced me to a herbal doctor called Dr Agaba, who prepare herbal medicine to cure all kind of diseases including herpes virus (Herpes), when i contacted this herbal doctor via email, he sent me herpes virus herbal medicine via courier service, when i received the herbal medicine he gave me step by step instructions on how to apply it, when i applied it as instructed i was totally cured from the virus within 3 weeks of usage. Contact this great herbal doctor today to get your cure. 
    Via Email: Dragabasolutionhome@gmail.com or WhatApp: +2349074536486

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  13. I want to use this medium to thank Dr Olori, you all should thank him for me. I started having some symptoms, warts started coming in so I went to see my doctor. He carried the test and he said I havea (Herpes) so went to another hospital for another test. My doctor prescribed some tubes  and cream which I started using, I use it for a while and I couldn't trace the infection and after a while it came back so I had no choice than to do research on some natural remedies there I saw a post about Dr Olori powerful herbs, I contacted him and purchase the medicine from him which I used for 2 weeks. On the 10th days of using it I couldn't have any trace of if I was not amazed hoping it will come back so that lead to my doctor for confirmation to my greatest surprise the result comes out negative, I was still a bit shocked I want for a month and still no trace then I called Dr Olori to appreciate his work in my life and I promise not to keep it to myself.
    Here's his basic information. Go get in touch with him: dr.noahmedicalcenter@gmail.com. Contact him and do get your healing.Website https://noahmedicalcentre.webs.com/

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  14. A big Thanks to you doctor   Just confirm am completely cure free from hsv with the help of his wonderful herbs medicine, may God continue to bless you and your wonderful herbs medicine thanks so much Dr Abubaka anyone looking for any herbs medicine should kindly contact Dr Abubaka  to place your order for his lovely herbs medicine Via email: DrAbubaka@gmail.com or WhatsApp: +2348075551672

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  15. I found out, that taking herbal treatment is the best to get rid of hpv as soon as i feel the symptoms of hpv is appearing, i took the healing process by contacting Dr onokun for natural treatment it works wonders, amazingly ever since I had the herbal treatment i have not feel these horrible disease anymore and my doc told me the virus is gone, i am glad i finally got cured out from this horrible disease. every hpv or herpes patients should also get in touch with this herbalist Dr to get ride of these disease forever his email address; Dronokunherbalcure@gmail.com 

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  16. Am really grateful and thankful for what Dr Oliver has done for me and my family. i have be suffering from HERPES for good three years with no solution, the diseases almost took my life and because was unable to work and I was also loosing lots of money for medication, but one faithful day when I went online, I met lots of testimonies about this great man so I decided to give it a try and to God be the glory he did it. If you need his help or you also want to get cured just the way I got mine, just email him (droliverherbalcenter@gmail.com ) or Whats App:+2348075376153 and get your healing.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Hello Everyone out there,I am here to give my testimony about a Herbalist doctor who helped me . I was infected with HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS in 2011, i went to many hospitals for cure but there was no solution, so I was thinking how can I get a solution out so that my body can be okay. One day I was in the river side thinking where I can go to get solution. so a lady walked to me telling me why am I so sad and i open up all to her telling her my problem, she told me that she can help me out, she introduce me to a doctor who uses herbal medication to cure HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS and gave me his email, so i mail him. He told me all the things I need to do and also give me instructions to take, which I followed properly. Before I knew what is happening after two weeks the HERPES SIMPLEX VIRUS that was in my body got vanished . so if you are also heart broken and also need a help, you can also email him at {oliha.miraclemedicine@gmail.com}
    or whatsapp him number: +2349038382931. or website is https://olihamiraclemedicine.webs.com/
    Contact him today and you will have a testimony...Good luck!

    Dr. OLIHA Also Cures:
    1. HIV/AIDS
    2. HERPES 1/2
    3. CANCER
    4. ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease)
    5. Hepatitis B
    6. chronic pancreatic
    7. Emphysema
    8. COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease

    ReplyDelete
  18. Do not let your Doctor lie to you and make you believe there is no cure for HSV, I was a Herpes patient until I came in contact with Dr Lucky who used his natural herbs to cure me of HSV now I'm negative to genital email him; drluckyherbalcure@gmail.com

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  19. Do not let your Doctor lie to you and make you believe there is no cure for HSV, I was a Herpes patient until I came in contact with Dr Lucky who used his natural herbs to cure me of HSV now I'm negative to genital email him; drluckyherbalcure@gmail.com

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  20. Greatest thanks to Dr Oyagu for his herbal drugs that he prepared for me and when I start using it in just 2weeks I was completely cured and that ended my HERPES SIMPLEX 1&2 DISEASE i am so happy and grateful to Dr Oyagu . after reading about him on a testimony of Jason Cash on a blogger. I knew suddenly Dr Oyagu was the right Doctor to cure my HERPES SIMPLEX 1&2 DISEASE. I discuss with Dr Oyagu and he prepared a herbal medicine for me and when it got sent to me in south Korean . I used the herbal medicine and 2weeks and i went to check up again. after 15years of suffering from HERPES SIMPLEX 1&2 at last i am smiling once again. Dr Oyagu also has remedy to others disease like COLD SORES,HIV/AIDS,DIABETES.CANCER,HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE AND MANY MORE. I oblige everyone to contact this powerful herbalist Dr Oyagu and be free from your suffering. contact his WhatsApp line: +2348101755322 or visit his Website https://oyaguspellcaster.wixsite.com/oyaguherbalhome Email:Oyaguherbalhome@gmail.com

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  21. I recently end natural treatment from herbalist healer which i used to got rid of my hpv i only applied the treatment for two week. it so amazing i eliminated this disease out from my body. i also recommend everyone suffering from this horrible disease should also be cure you can reach Doc Onokun via email; Dronokunherbalcure@gmail.com or website at www.Dronokunherbalcure.wordpress.com or Facebook pages at https://www.facebook.com/naturaltreatmentcenter1    

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  22. I contracted herpes  in 2015' I has be taking lot treatment for it and embarrassed some months ago the wart stated coming out seriously, I used lot recommendation because there was lot warts around my anus and was so . but today I'm totally happy I got the virus eliminated by using natural treatment from Dr OLIHA herbal center after his treatment I got cured. all the warts went away' seriously believed Dr OLIHA  have the cure for human papillomavirus because he has eliminated herpes  been in my body since 2015, Dr OLIHA make it possible for me. Here is Dr OLIHA email:oliha.miraclemedicine@gmail.com or WhatsApp+2349038382931. and https://olihamiraclemedicine.webs.com/ *      

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