mutual dependence. relationships of mutual dependence. the desire to be free of most sorts of mutual dependence relationships, especially if they involve money. that's why work is considered such a dirty task by the rich.
Chrissy was a cutie. chougz. who ever really knew her, i wonder. she's a legend for me.
i just don't agree with capitalisation rules. i ignore the rules i dislike and keep the ones i like. that's that.
Chougssss.... she was hot. Damn. she's real. i can see her. 422 portraits of her. damn. movie star hot. great marketing on her facebook. she's not real. but she is; i did meet her.
i wish someone would just fucking tell me about the politics beforehand. that's such a huge hurdle.
i just finished reading the benedetti short stories collection 'la muerte y otras sorpresas'.
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the customers are like our clients... well... i guess they're the same thing.
loads of strangers that i give money to every day. but somehow they still manage to get angry sometimes. and sometimes it's my fault, but sometimes i'm just minding my own business and one of them just vomits on my face, except it's with words not actual vomit. this is a difficult experience to type.
to describe. describing things is like writing a really long sentence that you don't understand. when you're done describing you realise you don't know what you're talking about anymore, and we call that conversation. description is such a basic part of our communication. i feel like i lack some basic understanding of communication because i'm not sharp-tongued enough. are there remedial classes on how to be sharper on the spot? it takes me too long how to figure out how to deal with aggression. where does it cross the line into when i can legally say, this is aggression and you are not entitled to my time anymore, and i'm calling security/the police? i dont want to be that guy, but you know what? fuck you lady, i was trying to help you, bitch. and i would try to help you better if you just left me the fuck alone. bitches on stitches, dude.
what happened there? i started describing stuff. see. i knew that would happen somehow. now i've forgotten what i was thinking again.
every topic i manage to hammer out almost has a life of its own, like it was waiting in my brain to emerge for 27 years, and finally comes into the world with a huge sigh of relief, saying, finally, we're out of that brain, finally we can continue out in the world, free to roam other minds as well. like thoughts have thoughts of their own, almost. they're like little ghosts in you, little impressions of the world you grabbed while you were two, or one, or six days, or one minute old.
i don't want to wait in the vain. i really liked this girl. i liked the other one too, but her marketing is too good, and anyway she's in LA, so that's a lost cause. plus she's hot, so she was born with a boyfriend, so who cares. those are always the most attractive because they ar the most wanted. and viceversa. it works both ways very equally. and i feel sooo elated.
isn't it miraculous how computers work? who really understands how the machines that rule us live? how do you know they're not really sentient already--it's the next step in evolution, and it's coming along at a quickening pace, and it will happen within our lifetimes. maybe it already has. who's to say who has the most computing power? it's another mutual dependence. those with the money have the machines, those with the machines have the knowledge, and those with the knowledge have the power. if you take the machines away from the ones with money, and give it to those that do not, you have a state of chaos. you achieve a reversal of knowledge that causes the system to break down. computers and humans are already sentientially connected--at a very low level, but nonetheless an important one. the next step will be unimaginable, and it's fun to speculate about. it's what the science fiction writers thrive on--Banks, Rucker, MacLeod, LeGuin.
music is the soundtrack of my life. lol
lolcats. lol cats. LOLL -- KATS. cats to most, but to me always lo. Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.
vladimir nabokov: lolita
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i am distracted. very distracted. i find that part the rudest. the rest is usually fine, but this urge to distraction i find rather annoying. i would like to be able to focus better, but then again this is one of the things that makes it possible to feel like this, so on the other hand i feel elated.
i feel my volitional energy expanded, but my physical energy weakened. i feel warm on my head, and cold on my feet and hands. i feel like ive just run a marathon, and been run over by cars. in my head, i've already been in several car accidents, but strangely, they are not entirely disastrous experiences: i simply get up, shake myself off, and walk away. unharmed. i think i've averted danger before so much i feel like i'm almost invincible somehow. i've escaped two wars, i've lived through more, i'm living through this one right now--
i'd like to know, straight out, what the politics are and how involved i am expected to be. this on the job training thing has its limits.
i've got it wrapped like a mummy. barbecues every day, driving fancy cars, representing for gangsters all across the world. i even have time, spare time, to perfect a beat. and you know what? i still have love for the streets. right back on top of things with no stress, no sins, no sticks; we put it in your hair.
lol. absurdity is my favourite verbal defense. if you can't convince them, confuse them. act unexpectedly. they dont know you and they dont know how to judge you, and its your job to make sure that they get help; if they don't want it, or are disturbing you helping someone, you should have every right to say, fuck you you crazy bitch, if you dont step off, i'm a call the cops, and let's see how you like dealing with that.
if you have the knowledge, you have the machines. you have the money if you own the knowledge to make the machines and are able to make them and sell them. otherwise the knowledge is useless. the money flows from mutual dependence with the machine, so the machine has a good reason to rely on mutual dependence, because it brings the machine to a closer connection with sentiency. meanwhile it brings the human more control over his peers, and the ability to hand out the money rather than collect it.
this benedetti book was awesome. it was frankly unbelievable, but very awesome to read. its like he fucks with your mind in intersting ways throughout the stories, but it's the best when it's completely unexpected from where he's going to fuck you up this time. he can play with time, magical realism, with grammatical constructs and postmodernism to get his message across and to fuck you up in the process. they are gentle mindfucks, romantic even, by starlight, candles all blown out.
the problem with this is that it makes me want to watch that stuff. i'd rather stay with the mental stimulation but i guess the other type is also there, waiting patiently to get out every so often, and you have to service it or the body stops functioning.
the thing with high school is that children are so selfish that if something happens that doesn't involve them they cant really process it as reality. most of high school was so unreal because i had no idea what was going on outside the bubble and even though i had a good factual knowledge i decided to ignore it so that i could finish growing up first, only that really never happened. it happened in some ways, mostly unimportant ways, like gaining responsibility for my actions and being accountable for myself and able to support myself. but these are a mere superficiality, because becoming an adult is also about becoming a better person, a more understanding and more rational person, a person with deeper emotions and a deeper purpose in life, and a teacher to the new generation. that has not happened. to some people it never happens. some of them live on the streets. the vast majority, anyway.
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