[Original creation date: 3 October 2008]
THE THEOSOPHY OF BEAUTY - PRELUDE TO PSYCHOHISTORIC REINTERPRETATIONS OF MODERN TIMES
1
You know, being alone is not such a bad thing. Loneliness gives us an opportunity to know ourselves and do what we consider important, useful, personally productive. for example, it gives us time to write. when else would one write than when one is alone?
2
loneliness is necessary to cleanse the soul. just as one requires time in the morning to cleanse the body, and times of repose at night to cleanse the mind, times of loneliness cleanse our souls. too much, however, and souls may be cleansed right off of existence.
3
solitary thought is fucked up. it leads you into the most unusual endeavours--your mind and your soul have free reign to communicate solely to each other. this requires interruptions throughout the day, otherwise ....
4
conformity is the easiest thing to do, so it is our default setting with things we don't really give a crap about. some prefer to conform to dress styles, or speech patterns, or philosophical ideas/constructs, or whatever because it is the easiest thing to handle the rest of humanity and the rest of mortal existence with. on the other hand, when we can afford to not conform, it is because we have voluntarily and purposefully decided that conforming was actually more difficult than not conforming. from thence springs human distraction and dissatisfaction. distractions are luxuries--things like fashion trends for the dress nonconformists; linguistics and wordplay and debate and literature for those concerned with the word. dissatisfactions become revolutions--nonconformity with the System, with the Man. i have a nonconformity with the use of uppercase letters. we all have our little nonconformities, and it shapes our personalities.
our bodies and minds and soul, the construct that is the «i», shape our preferences regarding the way we treat others and the world, and ignores some things and focuses on others. it does those things voluntarily, from within, and the reasons for those impulses are as mysterious as their genesis. is that where god really lies, in the mystery that cannot be explained, ever, with words? something that can only ever be felt?
i've never really understood myself, myself. the way i think my thoughts and they way i express them, finally, with words, either spoken or on paper, are so different from what i actually thought, what actually passed through my brain, that at the end of communication it is an essentially different idea which is communicated. how improbably bizarre is it to imagine that two people can ever really understand each other, with all this noise going on between the thoughts of two distinct minds? only with direct mind communication can any true communication ever happen, and even then a whole lot of context would be lost if it were not supplied.
and so, despite enormous obstacles, we possess language, something that at least allows enough communication to get us to where we are now. imagine what feats would be possible if we could have what the borg or the vulcans possess. no wonder we are so retrograde--we cannot even agree on the sanctity of human life, much less on ridiculous minutiae like the colour of the sky or jerusalem or the use of money. the world as we know it is a huge construction, the result of a million years of humans trying to satisfy their urges to conform and not conform, and to do it in the easiest way possible.
05 October 2008
On The Politics Of Mutual Dependence
[Original creation date: 27 September 2008]
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'.
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
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.
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'.
__________________________________
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
__________________________________
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.
Tangles of Bullshit
[Original creation date: 22 September 2008]
my brain has become tangles of bullshit.
every time i try to think something, it just turns into complete tangles. a mess. like spaghetti, thrown everywhere. the voices become louder and quieter with the music. my body is what controls me instead of my mind. an ancient rite of passage,
now that my brain is a tangle of bullshit, i can understand in ways thought impossible before the psychohistoric motivations for
unhappiness is just an emotion. but so is happiness. and now i understand how happiness can be so transitory, because happiness is just an emotion, and by law it must eventually change and mutate.
we have to do all this living just to get by. unhappiness is just a form of happiness, that’s all. like how live things are just a special type of dead thing. (Nietzsche.)
Optimists and Pessimists
[Original creation date: 15 September 2008]
the difference between optimists and pessimists: optimists are eternally hopeful that the world will be a better place, and the most extreme are amazing people because they are either intensely alive or else chronically dissatisfied but hopeful nonetheless. pessimists merely lack this ardent hope in the betterment of humanity and are able to dissociate more fully from their fellow man, and are often manic depressives.
Love Letter And The Art of Survival
[Original creation date: 13 September 2008]
there’s no rush. everything’s going to be all right.
typing is confusinhg me . this is difficulyt to do. i can barely think about anything. i am basically in three but i am forcing my body to stay in two by thinking or at least trying to think. three is surrender, and four is total surrender. and that’s why i try to stay in two. then the problem is that i get real cold and feel that weird physical sensation and think ugh and i just wanna sleep and im like no im not going to sleep… hello. weekend? but im like bleh just let me bleh for a while okay. i need this. and then more shit. more shit. i need you. i just need you. but how can you look in my eye and say you don’t see what’s happening inside. don’t you ever think like that. i need you. i need you, baby.
modern society is wack. Alicia keys is my idol.
how could you doubt the fact that i love you? because you saw me and you know what i said. and how can you believe that i would ever let you go like that?
are you trying to fuck me? then why do you hang around me so much? how can you look me in the eye and say . . .
i could keep talking to you forever. but i need to talk to someone else once in a while too. my bleh time is just like anyone else’s bleh time, everyone needs their bleh time. bleh time is healthy. you know why i don’t take the initiative with you, and you should be okay with that, because you are impossible to get, because you’re with . . . yeah. but you know what, i need you. and now you know you have that choice. i can’t believe you would read this letter and . . . anyway. what i’m trying to say is your choice makes you free and this is something you have to live with, that you will never be able to look back and say, should i have just stayed the way i am, or should i have really thought about it first? there’s so many things i know i should have done, or at least done differently. i wish i could fix it but that’s the way things are.
you know what i’m trying to say. hey, you got your perspective and i respect that. this is just the way i am. i just need to be alone sometimes, too. i would want only the best for both of us and it’s best for us to be apart sometimes. that way we stay out of each other’s way a little bit when things get less than awesome, because it will happen. it’s healthy for it to happen. the relationship has to grow, it has to evolve, it can’t stay in one place. if it stays in one place it will change anyway. the evolution has to be directed.
the more impossible you are, the more i like you. isn’t that strange? i love it when my women are impossible because otherwise the pain of disconnection would be too painful to bear. unbearable to bear, so to speak, … ha ahahhaha\\
when i think of you i think of sunrises and flying birds and the blue sky and the wonder of it all, and about the stars beyond, and all their charm. you charmed the shit out of me that night. i can’t believe i fell for you so quickly. it’s happened before, but never quite this way. i just wish i remembered better the things we said that day. that day is the reason i stopped drinking . . . i know it sounds whatever but i think i’m saying that you make me want to be a better person and i love that. you make me want to look good for work and you make me want to stay healthy and emancipated from mental slavery as bob Marley would say. how long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look? won’t you help to sing another song of freedom? because it’s all i’ve ever had, redemption songs. sing along with me, baby.
emancipate yourself from mental slavery.
you better love me. i know. but you better, because i sure as hell do.
.
laura. fuck.
i’m so weird.
it’s like i just developed a superpower. i only slept 4 hours last night but i felt fine at work. how the fuck did i do that? i have a superpower. i am the ubermensch. i have arrived. this is the most powerful realization a human can have.
nothing only matters when you have nothing to lose, are a nobody, have no way out. otherwise, everything matters. every last fuckin piece of hydrogen, and stupidity, matters.
fuck hoops.
when i start feeling like someone will read you, i start suppressing certain things. why is that? i trust you more than anyone. i know you would never tell anything embarrassing because that’s not who you are. but i still try to avoid certain subjects, even when all the time being honest.
this is the only way i can interface with the humans.
writing. speech is not so good, i’m not that eloquent. i forget names of things and say too many generalities because i can’t think fast enough about topics when i’m thinking about sociolingustics and socioanthropologic issues. survival: the game. that’s what i’m usually thinking about. and always trying to rise above from, and yet, there it is, everytime i walk out the door. the game of survival. who can you fuck this time? who can you get to give you money? how can you trick the world into being a playground and not a famine? what a fucking mind game. it’s all just an illusion, and waking up is scary because you realize how those things shouldn’t matter and that the reason they do is that we all depend on each other so much for survival now, one little glitch in the system could cause a crash more severe than any other ever experienced in the world. the end of the world already happened several times, first as tragedy, second as farce, but life has gone on and everyone is ultimately just waiting for their own personal armaggedon in a state of constant fear, unconscious fear of death. the will to live, so to speak. the drive to life. the drive to do as much as you can with what you’ve got and see if you can trick everyone else into buying what you’re selling instead of the other way around. you have to export yourself, advertise yourself, figure out what others want and then turn into that, and that’s how you’re ‘successful’ in the world. literally!
death is a funny thing because its finality makes it seem like ‘nothing matters’, nihilism, etc. but life happened for a reason, and though we may still be searching for that reason, we must see where time takes us, and eventually someone will figure it out. i’m optimistic about that aspect of humanity. nothing will ever stop us from reaching for the stars. we will conquer half this fucking galaxy if i have anything to say about it (and then buy the other half from the owners and make them do all the work. lol.)
i want to invent a new language.
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