09/05/2011
We are at war with the riddle
Some have given up the fight
And crawl backward toward the shelter
Of homes abandoned years before
Some charge relentlessly
And in their passion fall useless
Bleeding out in heroic fashion
Some attempt to take command
And strategize in vain
A means to control untrained troops
Some observe from afar
And in their impotence hope in the potency
Their knowledge may one day achieve
Some have turned the traitor
And rather than fighting the fight
Assist the enemy with their lies
Some are innocent in their incompetence
And fall before the blade
Without knowing what has happened
Some kneel before the oppressor
And think that if they confess its name
They shall be delivered
But the riddle remains
Some have given up the fight
And crawl backward toward the shelter
Of homes abandoned years before
Some charge relentlessly
And in their passion fall useless
Bleeding out in heroic fashion
Some attempt to take command
And strategize in vain
A means to control untrained troops
Some observe from afar
And in their impotence hope in the potency
Their knowledge may one day achieve
Some have turned the traitor
And rather than fighting the fight
Assist the enemy with their lies
Some are innocent in their incompetence
And fall before the blade
Without knowing what has happened
Some kneel before the oppressor
And think that if they confess its name
They shall be delivered
But the riddle remains
08/23/2011
Americans
Veins flowing thick with lust and greed
Holding fast to a morality
That says "get what you can, when you can"
"Don't ever get less than the next man."
Incapable of contentment, "no satisfaction"
Destined to wander the earth in abandon
Meting out the days of their lives
Counting their money and hiding their sighs.
Veins flowing thick with lust and greed
Holding fast to a morality
That says "get what you can, when you can"
"Don't ever get less than the next man."
Incapable of contentment, "no satisfaction"
Destined to wander the earth in abandon
Meting out the days of their lives
Counting their money and hiding their sighs.
08/10/2011
I've come to the edge of the cliff again--
Been here enough times that it's familiar now.
I know this moment, I know the steep path,
The rocky path, that leads here from the sea.
Time to jump. It is time once again,
To kill what I've become.
As I fall, the world falls with me.
The faces fade away, the words become silence,
And I plunge into the abyss, into the void.
Who is to say what shall emerge?
Been here enough times that it's familiar now.
I know this moment, I know the steep path,
The rocky path, that leads here from the sea.
Time to jump. It is time once again,
To kill what I've become.
As I fall, the world falls with me.
The faces fade away, the words become silence,
And I plunge into the abyss, into the void.
Who is to say what shall emerge?
08/06/2011
Destitution
A restless bird outside my porch, flew in panic
Back and forth, from steps to roof, from roof to plank,
All the while chirping with an anxious tone
I doubted not that somewhere a rat had found her home.
Something sly and cautious, creeping in the dark
Had crawled up to her offspring, still encased,
And broken them open, sipping it all out,
Sipping out hopes and dreams and happiness.
The poor thing must have lived a century distraught
Within a couple minutes, so adamant her chirps;
I finished sipping on my cigarette and went inside
Putting the event from my mind.
Restlessly now, it returns, like the eyes of a gator
Rising unblinking over the surface of a stagnant pool--
The thought, the mocking thought: "how trite."
Yet I would sip, and sip, and sip, feeling nothing.
A restless bird outside my porch, flew in panic
Back and forth, from steps to roof, from roof to plank,
All the while chirping with an anxious tone
I doubted not that somewhere a rat had found her home.
Something sly and cautious, creeping in the dark
Had crawled up to her offspring, still encased,
And broken them open, sipping it all out,
Sipping out hopes and dreams and happiness.
The poor thing must have lived a century distraught
Within a couple minutes, so adamant her chirps;
I finished sipping on my cigarette and went inside
Putting the event from my mind.
Restlessly now, it returns, like the eyes of a gator
Rising unblinking over the surface of a stagnant pool--
The thought, the mocking thought: "how trite."
Yet I would sip, and sip, and sip, feeling nothing.
07/26/2011
Oh, a storm is threat'ning
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
The floods is threat'ning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I'm gonna fade away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
The floods is threat'ning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I'm gonna fade away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away
07/01/2011
Wow I just made the most kick-ass breakfast burrito ever. For any who would like to duplicate:
Makes 2.
Bacon:
Cook 6 pieces premium thick-cut bacon in large frying pan on medium heat to desired doneness (this takes a while but it's better when cooked slowly). Flip about every 3-5 min. Start cooking eggs about halfway through. When bacon is cooked, remove from pan and press between paper towels to remove grease. Leave grease in pan and keep the heat on as you will use it again momentarily. Cut bacon into small chunks with scissors.
Eggs:
Crack 4 eggs into bowl and beat until whites no longer separated from yolk (except little specks). Add about a quarter cup milk. Season with dash salt, pepper, garlic, and about a teaspoon of chives. Cook in medium frying pan on medium heat, scraping along bottom about once every 3 min. to bring up cooked eggs and let the rest get down to the surface. Try not to break apart too much. Continue until done. Remember to turn off the heat for this pan.
Burritos:
Use 2 large flour tortillas. In each tortilla place half the eggs and half the bacon chunks, and grate in a generous amount of extra-sharp cheddar cheese. Mold the filling into the correct shape, crossing the center of the tortilla, and oriented horizontally to you. On the ends of the filling, lift up about an inch of the tortilla on each side and fold over the filling. Holding these "tabs" in place, lift the side closest to you and fold over all the filling, grasping below filling on the side opposite you to hold it in place. The tabs on the side toward you should be tucked in, but on the side opposite they should be extending outward a bit. Fold these tabs up and back inward, pressing them into the ends of the burrito. Holding them there, roll the burrito forward, away from you, to close it. If you do it exactly that way, it should hold together pretty firmly, which is important for the next step. Take each burrito, and place the section where the closing flap meets the rest of it directly downward, in the frying pan with the bacon grease. Let it cook for about 15 sec. then roll it gently a quarter-turn away from the side with the flap (so it doesn't open). Cook another 15 sec and repeat twice more. Carefully remove, turn off heat, and wrap in paper towels to absorb excess grease. Let it cool enough to handle and enjoy.
Makes 2.
Bacon:
Cook 6 pieces premium thick-cut bacon in large frying pan on medium heat to desired doneness (this takes a while but it's better when cooked slowly). Flip about every 3-5 min. Start cooking eggs about halfway through. When bacon is cooked, remove from pan and press between paper towels to remove grease. Leave grease in pan and keep the heat on as you will use it again momentarily. Cut bacon into small chunks with scissors.
Eggs:
Crack 4 eggs into bowl and beat until whites no longer separated from yolk (except little specks). Add about a quarter cup milk. Season with dash salt, pepper, garlic, and about a teaspoon of chives. Cook in medium frying pan on medium heat, scraping along bottom about once every 3 min. to bring up cooked eggs and let the rest get down to the surface. Try not to break apart too much. Continue until done. Remember to turn off the heat for this pan.
Burritos:
Use 2 large flour tortillas. In each tortilla place half the eggs and half the bacon chunks, and grate in a generous amount of extra-sharp cheddar cheese. Mold the filling into the correct shape, crossing the center of the tortilla, and oriented horizontally to you. On the ends of the filling, lift up about an inch of the tortilla on each side and fold over the filling. Holding these "tabs" in place, lift the side closest to you and fold over all the filling, grasping below filling on the side opposite you to hold it in place. The tabs on the side toward you should be tucked in, but on the side opposite they should be extending outward a bit. Fold these tabs up and back inward, pressing them into the ends of the burrito. Holding them there, roll the burrito forward, away from you, to close it. If you do it exactly that way, it should hold together pretty firmly, which is important for the next step. Take each burrito, and place the section where the closing flap meets the rest of it directly downward, in the frying pan with the bacon grease. Let it cook for about 15 sec. then roll it gently a quarter-turn away from the side with the flap (so it doesn't open). Cook another 15 sec and repeat twice more. Carefully remove, turn off heat, and wrap in paper towels to absorb excess grease. Let it cool enough to handle and enjoy.
05/24/2011
I was reading this post by a blogger I follow, and it reminded me so strongly of the clam digging I used to do back in Washington State that I thought I'd make a post on the subject.
First of all, this...
...is not something real clam diggers use. If anyone ever tells me they have gone clam digging and then I get a picture like this one, I will make quite a point out of ensuring that they be subjected to endless mockery on the matter.
Ok so, first, the essential tools of a clam digger:
Shovel:
Most important tool. The longer and thinner the "blade" the better. Preferably should have a half-length handle like this one, but a full handle can be dealt with or sawed off. Most experienced clam diggers will actually sharpen the tip of the blade with a grind wheel till it is as nearly razor-sharp as possible as this speeds its penetration of the sand, a point the importance of which will be understood later. The blade can also be "oiled" with shortening or grease, and should definitely be rust-free to prevent drag.
Net:
These devices are often home-made and consist of a mesh net attached to a hard rubber or metal hoop. The net must be long and thin as in this picture. The device is attached to one's person by three short ropes which keep the opening facing front at all times.
Two-Mantle Gas Lantern:
This is the best method of lighting the area one will dig in as nothing really gets brighter and as easily portable as one of these. Clam diggers will often find a good "spot" with lots of clam holes and set the lantern in the center, digging around it then moving on.
Wheelbarrow:
Believe it or not a commercial clam digger can dig well over 200 lb of clams in the space of a couple hours. Some even bring two wheelbarrows and two assistants to move them and the lantern, just so they can contantly dig.
So this is what a clam field looks like in daylight:
Usually diggers will start digging well before daylight however, as early as 3-4am. Hence the lanterns.
This is a razor clam, the type I am most experienced at digging:
The basic strategy of "real" clam digging is to pull the clam out of the sand by grasping its extended neck, before it can swell its foot, providing it with numerous pounds of downward force that can make it difficult or impossible to extract, and retract its neck. As a clam can anchor itself in about a second, the entire duration of extracting the clam must last only a fraction of a second. To accomplish this, the blade of the shovel is set about two inches to the side of the clam hole, toward the ocean, and facing inward toward the shore. The shovel is grasped underhand by the handle with the right hand and the left hand is placed on the top of the blade. It is rapidly thrust downward at an angle that brings the tip vertically parralel to the clam hole at about five to seven inches depth, and then rapidly removed vertically to form a sharp V-shaped space. The neck of the clam should be exposed parallel to the vertical side of this space. Halfway through removal of this chunk of sand, the left hand releases from the blade and shoots down into the space, grasping the neck of the clam with the fingertips and pulling it entirely out just as the tip of the shovel blade reaches the surface. This process takes about .8 seconds. The clam is then thrown backward into the net and the digger moves on to the next clam hole. Usually if the neck breaks that means it was cut by the shovel and the digger should adjust the angle or depth of their initial thrust.
First of all, this...
...is not something real clam diggers use. If anyone ever tells me they have gone clam digging and then I get a picture like this one, I will make quite a point out of ensuring that they be subjected to endless mockery on the matter.
Ok so, first, the essential tools of a clam digger:
Shovel:
Most important tool. The longer and thinner the "blade" the better. Preferably should have a half-length handle like this one, but a full handle can be dealt with or sawed off. Most experienced clam diggers will actually sharpen the tip of the blade with a grind wheel till it is as nearly razor-sharp as possible as this speeds its penetration of the sand, a point the importance of which will be understood later. The blade can also be "oiled" with shortening or grease, and should definitely be rust-free to prevent drag.
Net:
These devices are often home-made and consist of a mesh net attached to a hard rubber or metal hoop. The net must be long and thin as in this picture. The device is attached to one's person by three short ropes which keep the opening facing front at all times.
Two-Mantle Gas Lantern:
This is the best method of lighting the area one will dig in as nothing really gets brighter and as easily portable as one of these. Clam diggers will often find a good "spot" with lots of clam holes and set the lantern in the center, digging around it then moving on.
Wheelbarrow:
Believe it or not a commercial clam digger can dig well over 200 lb of clams in the space of a couple hours. Some even bring two wheelbarrows and two assistants to move them and the lantern, just so they can contantly dig.
So this is what a clam field looks like in daylight:
Usually diggers will start digging well before daylight however, as early as 3-4am. Hence the lanterns.
This is a razor clam, the type I am most experienced at digging:
The basic strategy of "real" clam digging is to pull the clam out of the sand by grasping its extended neck, before it can swell its foot, providing it with numerous pounds of downward force that can make it difficult or impossible to extract, and retract its neck. As a clam can anchor itself in about a second, the entire duration of extracting the clam must last only a fraction of a second. To accomplish this, the blade of the shovel is set about two inches to the side of the clam hole, toward the ocean, and facing inward toward the shore. The shovel is grasped underhand by the handle with the right hand and the left hand is placed on the top of the blade. It is rapidly thrust downward at an angle that brings the tip vertically parralel to the clam hole at about five to seven inches depth, and then rapidly removed vertically to form a sharp V-shaped space. The neck of the clam should be exposed parallel to the vertical side of this space. Halfway through removal of this chunk of sand, the left hand releases from the blade and shoots down into the space, grasping the neck of the clam with the fingertips and pulling it entirely out just as the tip of the shovel blade reaches the surface. This process takes about .8 seconds. The clam is then thrown backward into the net and the digger moves on to the next clam hole. Usually if the neck breaks that means it was cut by the shovel and the digger should adjust the angle or depth of their initial thrust.
05/10/2011
An Ode to Fire
There was a day remembered as in a distant dream
When innocence o'ercame me and I danced with merry step
Down stairs doused in morning rain, kicking puddles in abandon.
But then she happened across my path, such circumstance
Impossible to have foreseen, and I, reacting too late
Caught but a glance, a glare, a scorning and unwavering rebuke.
Long did I persist in studying this regrettable event--
Perhaps it was her eyes, so crystal blue, as a glacier
Set upon its course; perhaps, my own instinctive shame
At injustice done upon her Sunday attire--whatever the cause,
My unease would not rest, I did, I must have an answer
To tell the world that I indeed was innocent of this unspeakable crime.
For now in mind I had crafted that which only mind could craft,
Something unnatural as fire: "Intention is the sole criterion
Of moral responsibility." This blade, this killing instrument I threw
In battle against the ogre Guilt, until at last its blood
Burned crisp within its veins. Perceiving my victory so I relished:
"Causality is but an argument of beasts; here is the domain of man."
A day ago I worked all night, and coming home discovered that my friend
Had fallen ill, and so I elected to watch our child through the day.
I sat her on my lap and sang to her; I held her hands with fingers as she walked.
I laid her down to sleep. I went out to the porch and had a cigarette.
I put it out and tossed it in our urn, unlike my friend who never bothers,
And went inside to see a film and rest at last.
But then a half hour later at the least, an explosion rocked the room,
A fire quickly spreading, grown vast unnoticed, from my inadvertent failure--
I suppose it was not out entirely. What a shame. What a small flame.
Read for context.
There was a day remembered as in a distant dream
When innocence o'ercame me and I danced with merry step
Down stairs doused in morning rain, kicking puddles in abandon.
But then she happened across my path, such circumstance
Impossible to have foreseen, and I, reacting too late
Caught but a glance, a glare, a scorning and unwavering rebuke.
Long did I persist in studying this regrettable event--
Perhaps it was her eyes, so crystal blue, as a glacier
Set upon its course; perhaps, my own instinctive shame
At injustice done upon her Sunday attire--whatever the cause,
My unease would not rest, I did, I must have an answer
To tell the world that I indeed was innocent of this unspeakable crime.
For now in mind I had crafted that which only mind could craft,
Something unnatural as fire: "Intention is the sole criterion
Of moral responsibility." This blade, this killing instrument I threw
In battle against the ogre Guilt, until at last its blood
Burned crisp within its veins. Perceiving my victory so I relished:
"Causality is but an argument of beasts; here is the domain of man."
A day ago I worked all night, and coming home discovered that my friend
Had fallen ill, and so I elected to watch our child through the day.
I sat her on my lap and sang to her; I held her hands with fingers as she walked.
I laid her down to sleep. I went out to the porch and had a cigarette.
I put it out and tossed it in our urn, unlike my friend who never bothers,
And went inside to see a film and rest at last.
But then a half hour later at the least, an explosion rocked the room,
A fire quickly spreading, grown vast unnoticed, from my inadvertent failure--
I suppose it was not out entirely. What a shame. What a small flame.
Read for context.
05/07/2011
"[E]very failure to cope with a life situation must be laid, in the end, to a restriction of consciousness." -Joseph Campbell, The Hero With a Thousand Faces
I have an acquantence who was recently in a relationship with my girlfriend's younger sister. This guy is about six years older than I. I have to say it is rather pathetic to watch his woebegone and helpless whining, like a child screaming for its mother's breast, all over something he has mistakenly chosen to call love but which is really just a desire to be cared for, to thus escape adult responsibilities, to thus remain immature and cling by means of repression to that blissful innocence that cannot be admitted to persist beyond its own natural time.
I have an acquantence who was recently in a relationship with my girlfriend's younger sister. This guy is about six years older than I. I have to say it is rather pathetic to watch his woebegone and helpless whining, like a child screaming for its mother's breast, all over something he has mistakenly chosen to call love but which is really just a desire to be cared for, to thus escape adult responsibilities, to thus remain immature and cling by means of repression to that blissful innocence that cannot be admitted to persist beyond its own natural time.
05/02/2011
Hang in there kiddo
Life's not all that bad
We darken for a moment sure
But glisten in our prime
We walk down roads uncharted
Expanding into time
Till all our hopes have been fulfilled
In strange ways undefined
You pass me by in sorrow
Convinced that all is lost
But all the while smiling
Confessing happiness
But now the mask can fall away
Together we digress
Into the truth unacknowledged
Into the wilderness
Life's not all that bad
We darken for a moment sure
But glisten in our prime
We walk down roads uncharted
Expanding into time
Till all our hopes have been fulfilled
In strange ways undefined
You pass me by in sorrow
Convinced that all is lost
But all the while smiling
Confessing happiness
But now the mask can fall away
Together we digress
Into the truth unacknowledged
Into the wilderness
04/29/2011
Among other signs that I have been playing too much mahjong lately, I present this example:
While watching a basketball game I suddenly find myself thinking "Man, if one team has been behind the entire game and then wins off the point that puts them ahead for the first time, they should get extra han... wait a minute what the fuck did I just think?"
While watching a basketball game I suddenly find myself thinking "Man, if one team has been behind the entire game and then wins off the point that puts them ahead for the first time, they should get extra han... wait a minute what the fuck did I just think?"
04/22/2011
My hair is a bed of softness
My hair is a pillow of curls
Down, a natural comfort
When I sleep.
I need a haircut.
My hair is a pillow of curls
Down, a natural comfort
When I sleep.
I need a haircut.
04/17/2011
Strange as it seems, with all that I do not like about my life, I can picture myself living a different life and still wishing to live one as I have lived now.
04/16/2011
We take short, but confident steps
In opposite directions
The time
The silence expands and contracts
With each breath
Poised
Intentional
We turn
But we will kill this time with words
In opposite directions
The time
The silence expands and contracts
With each breath
Poised
Intentional
We turn
But we will kill this time with words
04/07/2011
the toil expands and expands
the young spend their time inventing more of it
the old spend their time regretting it
I spend my time contemplating it
vanity... all is
the dreams fly and fly
like a number of clouds in a foreign sky
as children we watch and give them names
as adults we curse the tears that rain
vanity... all is
the rest comes and goes
first strikingly into our consciousness
a fear we have no capacity to appreciate or control
then unwittingly into memory we forget. death
vanity... all is
you and I talk and talk
attempting to define ourselves refine ourselves
communicate the smallest part of something we imagine
hide with the perfect lie the smallest terrifying truth
vanity
the young spend their time inventing more of it
the old spend their time regretting it
I spend my time contemplating it
vanity... all is
the dreams fly and fly
like a number of clouds in a foreign sky
as children we watch and give them names
as adults we curse the tears that rain
vanity... all is
the rest comes and goes
first strikingly into our consciousness
a fear we have no capacity to appreciate or control
then unwittingly into memory we forget. death
vanity... all is
you and I talk and talk
attempting to define ourselves refine ourselves
communicate the smallest part of something we imagine
hide with the perfect lie the smallest terrifying truth
vanity
04/03/2011
Reflections on a word: wildfire.
Primitive humanity would refer to this phenomenon merely as whatever signifier they possess for 'fire.' However, modern man sees the necessity to signify something additional in the reference, fire that is, unnaturally or unusually, beyond the control of human determination.
Primitive humanity would refer to this phenomenon merely as whatever signifier they possess for 'fire.' However, modern man sees the necessity to signify something additional in the reference, fire that is, unnaturally or unusually, beyond the control of human determination.
03/32/2011
The owner of this blog committed suicide yesterday at 2:00 pm. This is his roommate posting to inform readers that this site will henceforth be shut down.
03/31/2011
too much of the fake life is closing in all around us
like the caress of a lover unwanted our skin recoils
but there is no escape it embalms us it sticks in layers
until we cannot distinguish anymore the perfect dream
from the destitute reality
day by day we continue to pretend that this is it
we tell ourselves that there is strength in numbers
we catalogue every meaningless moment as if in so doing
we could convince ourselves that interaction is everything
and there is nothing more
then we see for a moment a light gleaming from somewhere
we struggle we blink to understand to recognize
but the soldiers of nicety the legions of taboo
chain us down so we can only wonder what would happen
if we could escape and go on
go on to take our dream wherever it may be found
go on to disdain the judgment of a million fake people
that matter not as much as a single real person
go on to adventure into the unknown the uncharted
the last real place
like the caress of a lover unwanted our skin recoils
but there is no escape it embalms us it sticks in layers
until we cannot distinguish anymore the perfect dream
from the destitute reality
day by day we continue to pretend that this is it
we tell ourselves that there is strength in numbers
we catalogue every meaningless moment as if in so doing
we could convince ourselves that interaction is everything
and there is nothing more
then we see for a moment a light gleaming from somewhere
we struggle we blink to understand to recognize
but the soldiers of nicety the legions of taboo
chain us down so we can only wonder what would happen
if we could escape and go on
go on to take our dream wherever it may be found
go on to disdain the judgment of a million fake people
that matter not as much as a single real person
go on to adventure into the unknown the uncharted
the last real place
03/27/2011
There is really no difference between a person with an exaggerated self-esteem and a person with a severe deficiency of self-esteem. Both originate from an obsessive infatuation with the self, and, in so doing, both elevate the self to a position of importance greater than that afforded to others, whether it be society, acquaintances, friends, family, or even loved ones that are thus held in secret contempt.
A person of true humility, true selflessness, will almost necessarily pass through life unnoticed, except it be by the deeds he performs for others, and then, these will only be remembered by those few.
A person of true humility, true selflessness, will almost necessarily pass through life unnoticed, except it be by the deeds he performs for others, and then, these will only be remembered by those few.
03/26/2011
At first I did not realize
What others seemed to know
That summers weren't forever
And life was but a show
That time is ever turning
And quickly hastes the day
When all our toil ceases
As darkness carries us away.
I was young and I recalled
A simple year ago
My play-days had felt longer
It hit me like a blow
For years beyond this moment
I raced to find a way
To learn all that I ever dreamed
Before my summer fades to gray.
What others seemed to know
That summers weren't forever
And life was but a show
That time is ever turning
And quickly hastes the day
When all our toil ceases
As darkness carries us away.
I was young and I recalled
A simple year ago
My play-days had felt longer
It hit me like a blow
For years beyond this moment
I raced to find a way
To learn all that I ever dreamed
Before my summer fades to gray.
03/25/2011
I'll tell you why I loved you.
It really is more simple than I think you could imagine.
It was not what we believed or didn't.
It was not your beauty or your happiness, though these things I admired.
It was not your interests, your character, or your dreams, though even with these things you outshone many.
It was not any of the normal things people look for.
There were moments that I looked into your eyes and saw your soul.
That was it. That was all there was to it.
I have never before and never since experienced such a thing.
I doubt I ever will.
It really is more simple than I think you could imagine.
It was not what we believed or didn't.
It was not your beauty or your happiness, though these things I admired.
It was not your interests, your character, or your dreams, though even with these things you outshone many.
It was not any of the normal things people look for.
There were moments that I looked into your eyes and saw your soul.
That was it. That was all there was to it.
I have never before and never since experienced such a thing.
I doubt I ever will.
03/23/2011
mmm... chinese take-out
it's the little things isn't it?
it always amazes me how happy good food can make me feel... for all the thought that has gone into the concept of happiness throughout the ages... by all the great philosophers... and I can feel happy just because I am putting egg foo young in my mouth and chewing it... lol
it's the little things isn't it?
it always amazes me how happy good food can make me feel... for all the thought that has gone into the concept of happiness throughout the ages... by all the great philosophers... and I can feel happy just because I am putting egg foo young in my mouth and chewing it... lol
03/22/2011
I am lost in the crowd of centuries.
We are marching onward but none can tell the way.
I catch glimpses of something, a mirage?
In the distance at times.
But for the most part my vision is obscured
By those that throng about me
Marching as I do, but without concern
As to where we go.
We are marching onward but none can tell the way.
I catch glimpses of something, a mirage?
In the distance at times.
But for the most part my vision is obscured
By those that throng about me
Marching as I do, but without concern
As to where we go.
03/21/2011
"For centuries Daedalus has represented the type of the artist-scientist: that curiously disinterested, almost diabolic human phenomenon, beyond the normal bounds of social judgment, dedicated to the morals not of his time but of his art. He is the hero of the way of thought--singlehearted, courageous, and full of faith that the truth, as he finds it, shall make us free.
And so now we may turn to him, as did Ariadne. The flax for the linen of his thread he has gathered from the fields of the human imagination. Centuries of husbandry, decades of diligent culling, the work of numerous hearts and hands, have gone into the hackling, sorting, and spinning of this tightly twisted yarn. Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world."
-The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell
And so now we may turn to him, as did Ariadne. The flax for the linen of his thread he has gathered from the fields of the human imagination. Centuries of husbandry, decades of diligent culling, the work of numerous hearts and hands, have gone into the hackling, sorting, and spinning of this tightly twisted yarn. Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world."
-The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell
03/19/2011
Response to this post by my former professor, Grant Horner, on his very interesting blog. Check it out!
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."
I've often thought about the idea of people who confess by words a religious conviction also promoting tolerance, and how absurd it truly is. On the one hand, any correctly reasoning individual should understand that it is impossible to assert one objective case while also admitting the potential validity of another. On the other, any individual who has any experience discerning the subtleties of human emotion will recognize that tolerance is but a cheap, easy, bastardized, and perverted form of a more ideal method of relation--empathy. Yet Christians, and in fact the entire religious community of the world, do not want to admit the fact that they only have two honest options: either they can entirely assert the objective, isolate themselves from the rest of society, consider any that will not join their cause as an enemy, engage in warfare to promote their dominance, and eventually either conquer or fall, in either case becoming ineffable; or, they can entirely commit to empathy, propagate their own paradigms, assimilate the paradigms of all around them, and eventually sacrifice their individuality to become a corporate entity. In my own opinion, this is a basic psychological (and perhaps spiritual) dilemma, and exists in shadow prior to the many issues that have arisen within human society to provide it with a corporeal cloak. Most humans witness this looming figure and respond with an understandable measure of cowardice, self-delusion, and outright terror. This is why they cannot permit themselves to come to an honest decision between the two, and instead must cling to the fence, even if doing so renders their actions absurd. They must constantly sway back and forth, and if they lose their balance for a moment, in a moment of excessive conviction or exceptional doubt, they must hop back upon the fence as fast as they can possibly manage.
So I suppose I agree with your assessment. Rob Bell is promoting a concept of heaven and of the divine plan that is essentially opposite of an orthodox Christian interpretation. Under an orthodox Christian interpretation, heaven is a place/thing/reality of ultimate ineffability. It is the culmination of Christian societies' separation with the rest of humanity and of their fusion with the objective concept that they assert. Heaven under this interpretation is the epitome of exclusivity, and it is no wonder, if we were to examine the issue from a psychological perspective, that John speaks of those attaining this state as being given new names. Under this paradigm, it is absolutely unthinkable that any other, any outsider, any heretic could be admitted into this holy, ineffable reality. Yet this is precisely what Rob Bell promotes as a concept of heaven, a place where all are welcome, where all are desired, where all shall find acceptance and peace, regardless. Rob Bell probably is honestly talking about heaven, but it is the heaven of a very different type of human, one that has swayed a little too far to one side of the fence, and it happens to be the wrong side for him to sway to if you're an orthodox Christian. Rob Bell believes that the future of humanity lies not in ineffability but in assimilation, even if he isn't conscious of this basic distinction. And he isn't alone:
So, only a few things left to say. Either we must commit to the fence and the delusion and absurdity we find there, or commit to integrity and the ineffability that it brings, or commit to assimilation and the loss of self that it brings, or discover a way to transcend the bounds of this apparent dilemma.
But in the meantime, what I am curious about is, which are you? A fence rider? A believer in Grant Horner's heaven? Or a believer in Rob Bell's heaven?
And why?
"The greatest trick man ever pulled was convincing himself that god exists."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."
I've often thought about the idea of people who confess by words a religious conviction also promoting tolerance, and how absurd it truly is. On the one hand, any correctly reasoning individual should understand that it is impossible to assert one objective case while also admitting the potential validity of another. On the other, any individual who has any experience discerning the subtleties of human emotion will recognize that tolerance is but a cheap, easy, bastardized, and perverted form of a more ideal method of relation--empathy. Yet Christians, and in fact the entire religious community of the world, do not want to admit the fact that they only have two honest options: either they can entirely assert the objective, isolate themselves from the rest of society, consider any that will not join their cause as an enemy, engage in warfare to promote their dominance, and eventually either conquer or fall, in either case becoming ineffable; or, they can entirely commit to empathy, propagate their own paradigms, assimilate the paradigms of all around them, and eventually sacrifice their individuality to become a corporate entity. In my own opinion, this is a basic psychological (and perhaps spiritual) dilemma, and exists in shadow prior to the many issues that have arisen within human society to provide it with a corporeal cloak. Most humans witness this looming figure and respond with an understandable measure of cowardice, self-delusion, and outright terror. This is why they cannot permit themselves to come to an honest decision between the two, and instead must cling to the fence, even if doing so renders their actions absurd. They must constantly sway back and forth, and if they lose their balance for a moment, in a moment of excessive conviction or exceptional doubt, they must hop back upon the fence as fast as they can possibly manage.
So I suppose I agree with your assessment. Rob Bell is promoting a concept of heaven and of the divine plan that is essentially opposite of an orthodox Christian interpretation. Under an orthodox Christian interpretation, heaven is a place/thing/reality of ultimate ineffability. It is the culmination of Christian societies' separation with the rest of humanity and of their fusion with the objective concept that they assert. Heaven under this interpretation is the epitome of exclusivity, and it is no wonder, if we were to examine the issue from a psychological perspective, that John speaks of those attaining this state as being given new names. Under this paradigm, it is absolutely unthinkable that any other, any outsider, any heretic could be admitted into this holy, ineffable reality. Yet this is precisely what Rob Bell promotes as a concept of heaven, a place where all are welcome, where all are desired, where all shall find acceptance and peace, regardless. Rob Bell probably is honestly talking about heaven, but it is the heaven of a very different type of human, one that has swayed a little too far to one side of the fence, and it happens to be the wrong side for him to sway to if you're an orthodox Christian. Rob Bell believes that the future of humanity lies not in ineffability but in assimilation, even if he isn't conscious of this basic distinction. And he isn't alone:
So, only a few things left to say. Either we must commit to the fence and the delusion and absurdity we find there, or commit to integrity and the ineffability that it brings, or commit to assimilation and the loss of self that it brings, or discover a way to transcend the bounds of this apparent dilemma.
But in the meantime, what I am curious about is, which are you? A fence rider? A believer in Grant Horner's heaven? Or a believer in Rob Bell's heaven?
And why?
"The greatest trick man ever pulled was convincing himself that god exists."
03/18/2011
Just started watching a new tv show called "V" and so far it's pretty interesting. Not perfect, not as good as Fringe, but still, interesting.
03/17/2011
Wasted
I swept years like soggy leaves--
Stubborn in their clinging--
Of of my porch; I must have some
Cleanliness some,
Measure some, space of
My own some,
Means to begin anew.
It is, not yet, certainly,
Certainly not yet time
For my works to be complete.
This time, this space, this
Clean, new, uncluttered space--
This I shall not waste.
I swept years like soggy leaves--
Stubborn in their clinging--
Of of my porch; I must have some
Cleanliness some,
Measure some, space of
My own some,
Means to begin anew.
It is, not yet, certainly,
Certainly not yet time
For my works to be complete.
This time, this space, this
Clean, new, uncluttered space--
This I shall not waste.
03/16/2011
Having just read this, and the accompanying comments, I began considering the concept of artistic creation. Perhaps, I feel, it is a delicate balance, between two equally depriving extremes. We could call these two 'germination' and 'growth,' or 'internal construction' and 'external expression,' or any other such combination of terms as we might like; the point is that both are equally necessary for artistic creation to occur, but neither can overwhelm the other. If internal construction, germination, the muse begins to overwhelm the artistic process, then its successful expression in an external medium is jeopardized or even excluded altogether. If external expression, growth, the creation begins to overwhelm the artistic process, then the very expression itself suffers from a lack of inspired content and ultimately becomes an exercise not in art at all but only in a learned craft.
03/15/2011
Having just watched the movie Hannibal again, I had a thought I decided to share.
The particular aspect of the character of Hannibal Lecter that renders him so terrifying is that he is a manifestation and embodiment of a far more abstract concept--the horror of ironic fate. A few examples should suffice to elucidate this point.
Just as Macbeth's own struggle against his fate predicted of the three witches ironically resulted in his demise, or as Minos' substitution of the sacrificial bull was repaid by divine justice with his queen's conception of the Minotaur, or as Icarus and Phaëton's hubris despite the warnings of their associates resulted in their deaths, so too Renaldo Pazzi is persuaded by his own avarice, Mason Verger by his lust for vengeance, Paul Krendler by his penchant for rudeness, and Frederick Chilton by his psychological vampirism, all unto their own ironic destinies which are both preconceived and fulfilled by Lecter. Lecter's particular attention to the case of Renaldo Pazzi is of interest, as the irony in this situation is compounded both by the prior event of Francesco de'Pazzi's identical hanging and by the presence of Renaldo Pazzi at Lecter's lecture on the ancient imperative of an association between avarice and hanging, Judas Iscariot and Pier della Vigna serving as examples of the syntax. Even in situations in which Lecter's murder of another does not seem to be preceded by an ironic circumstance, Lecter often creates one following the murder, as evidenced in the cases of Benjamin Raspail, who was fed to his own board of directors, and Officer Pembry, the security guard whose corpse served in Lecter's escape to freedom. Thus, in every case, Lecter assumes, in the mantle and guise of human form and human action, that dreaded function elsewhere ascribed to witches, deities, or the cosmos itself.
The intriguing thing about Lecter's portrayal as the determinant of ironic fate is that, although his power in this regard seems limitless in the consideration of those cases in which his victims attempt to flee or overcome their fate through external actions, yet he is apparently powerless to influence the internal resolve and willpower of Clarice Starling.
At least, such is the case in the film. I shall have to read the novel at some point to compare this function of Lecter's mythos to its counterpart therein, or perhaps I should say its original form therein. I suspect it may even render his character more disturbing in a particular sense--the monster that is master even over individual will or conviction; the monster that is at once infallibly lethal and irresistibly mesmerizing.
The particular aspect of the character of Hannibal Lecter that renders him so terrifying is that he is a manifestation and embodiment of a far more abstract concept--the horror of ironic fate. A few examples should suffice to elucidate this point.
Just as Macbeth's own struggle against his fate predicted of the three witches ironically resulted in his demise, or as Minos' substitution of the sacrificial bull was repaid by divine justice with his queen's conception of the Minotaur, or as Icarus and Phaëton's hubris despite the warnings of their associates resulted in their deaths, so too Renaldo Pazzi is persuaded by his own avarice, Mason Verger by his lust for vengeance, Paul Krendler by his penchant for rudeness, and Frederick Chilton by his psychological vampirism, all unto their own ironic destinies which are both preconceived and fulfilled by Lecter. Lecter's particular attention to the case of Renaldo Pazzi is of interest, as the irony in this situation is compounded both by the prior event of Francesco de'Pazzi's identical hanging and by the presence of Renaldo Pazzi at Lecter's lecture on the ancient imperative of an association between avarice and hanging, Judas Iscariot and Pier della Vigna serving as examples of the syntax. Even in situations in which Lecter's murder of another does not seem to be preceded by an ironic circumstance, Lecter often creates one following the murder, as evidenced in the cases of Benjamin Raspail, who was fed to his own board of directors, and Officer Pembry, the security guard whose corpse served in Lecter's escape to freedom. Thus, in every case, Lecter assumes, in the mantle and guise of human form and human action, that dreaded function elsewhere ascribed to witches, deities, or the cosmos itself.
The intriguing thing about Lecter's portrayal as the determinant of ironic fate is that, although his power in this regard seems limitless in the consideration of those cases in which his victims attempt to flee or overcome their fate through external actions, yet he is apparently powerless to influence the internal resolve and willpower of Clarice Starling.
At least, such is the case in the film. I shall have to read the novel at some point to compare this function of Lecter's mythos to its counterpart therein, or perhaps I should say its original form therein. I suspect it may even render his character more disturbing in a particular sense--the monster that is master even over individual will or conviction; the monster that is at once infallibly lethal and irresistibly mesmerizing.
03/14/2011
There is an infinite expanse of unspokenness separating you and I.
You do not know my nightmares; I do not know your dreams.
We send oddly-worded letters out into the void,
And attempt to assemble a single puzzle from pieces
Stolen out of many different boxes.
I form a picture of you:
-- -- --
And you of me:
-- -- --
But we cannot say what that is.
It is perhaps, words like
interesting
aware
unique
vivid
alluring
captivating
beautiful
but
They are all just pieces,
Stolen out of many different
experiences.
You do not know my nightmares; I do not know your dreams.
We send oddly-worded letters out into the void,
And attempt to assemble a single puzzle from pieces
Stolen out of many different boxes.
I form a picture of you:
-- -- --
And you of me:
-- -- --
But we cannot say what that is.
It is perhaps, words like
interesting
aware
unique
vivid
alluring
captivating
beautiful
but
They are all just pieces,
Stolen out of many different
experiences.
03/13/2011
If my posts here are somewhat sporadic and untruthful about the dates of their posting, it is because I no longer have internet at work, thanks to an unspecified colleague of mine who was storing his/her personal files on the office computer. So, these posts are actually being written (by hand I know!) at the time noted in their titles, but I'm only getting them online when I have the opportunity at home.
This should all change soon though as I plan to finally buy a laptop, something I should have done a while ago but have been putting off.
Oh, and obviously my bosses don't know anything about live GNU's because I hacked into both the regular office computer and the management computer without so much as a hiccup. Kept them offline though. Wouldn't want to attract attention. Shhh!
This should all change soon though as I plan to finally buy a laptop, something I should have done a while ago but have been putting off.
Oh, and obviously my bosses don't know anything about live GNU's because I hacked into both the regular office computer and the management computer without so much as a hiccup. Kept them offline though. Wouldn't want to attract attention. Shhh!
03/12/2011
"Sigmund Freud stresses in his writings the passages and difficulties of the first half of the human cycle of life--those of our infancy and adolescence, when our sun is mounting toward its zenith. C.G. Jung, on the other hand, has emphasized the crises of the second portion--when, in order to advance, the shining sphere must submit to descend and disappear, at last, into the night-womb of the grave. The normal symbols of our desires and fears become converted, in this afternoon of the biography, into their opposites; for it is then no longer life but death that is the challenge. What is difficult to leave, then, is not the womb but the phallus--unless, indeed, the life-weariness has already seized the heart, when it will be death that calls with the promise of bliss that formerly was the lure of love. Full circle, from the tomb of the womb to the womb of the tomb, we come: an ambiguous, enigmatical incursion into a world of solid matter that is soon to melt from us, like the substance of a dream."
-from The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell
-from The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell
03/11/2011
Just bought an Argosy 2TB external hard drive. So far I'm really satisfied with it. It would be nice if it were USB 3.0 but other than that I have no complaints, and it goes for a great price considering everything else it can do. Currently downloading all of X-Files to it (69GB worth) which should give me something to do at work for the next few weeks.
03/08/2011
I remember a moment escalated in intensity by the dawning of a revelation, a moment transcendent into mythical experience, and frozen as such within the mind of young boy.
A tree, thin like an engorged stick, was waving violently, back and forth, back and forth, in the howl of a Gaelic-speaking storm. The wind was hands and fingers, pressing and stroking, exploratory, penetrating. Uneven drafts of rain were flung upon recoiling skin, in intermittent and unpredicted patterns. The world seemed to be searching for a means of expressing something horrible.
There was a man standing atop stone steps, calling to the wind. His pleas fell back down his throat and washed out through his eyes, never to be heard.
Thunder quaked at last, the voice of some awful deity promising justice. I knew then, as I have ever known, that death was upon us all.
A tree, thin like an engorged stick, was waving violently, back and forth, back and forth, in the howl of a Gaelic-speaking storm. The wind was hands and fingers, pressing and stroking, exploratory, penetrating. Uneven drafts of rain were flung upon recoiling skin, in intermittent and unpredicted patterns. The world seemed to be searching for a means of expressing something horrible.
There was a man standing atop stone steps, calling to the wind. His pleas fell back down his throat and washed out through his eyes, never to be heard.
Thunder quaked at last, the voice of some awful deity promising justice. I knew then, as I have ever known, that death was upon us all.
03/07/2011
We take
What we are given
And not a moment more
We follow
After the love
Is but a distant rapport
We circle round
Till we crash and burn
Upon a desert ground
We build sand castles
Armed with grudges
And fortified with apathy
We condense everything
To one phrase oft' repeated
And never intended
We drift aloft
On the wings of sin
Or such as it has been called
We justify
Feigning indignation
When actually it is relief
We go on
Pretending what we will
While we plot a war
We give
Only what we must
For we, in love, are poor.
What we are given
And not a moment more
We follow
After the love
Is but a distant rapport
We circle round
Till we crash and burn
Upon a desert ground
We build sand castles
Armed with grudges
And fortified with apathy
We condense everything
To one phrase oft' repeated
And never intended
We drift aloft
On the wings of sin
Or such as it has been called
We justify
Feigning indignation
When actually it is relief
We go on
Pretending what we will
While we plot a war
We give
Only what we must
For we, in love, are poor.
03/06/2011
Odd.
Apparently moving from LA to SA and working night shifts is a pretty popular thing to do.
All three of my coworkers who work nights at the hotel I work at all came from LA as well.
lol
Apparently moving from LA to SA and working night shifts is a pretty popular thing to do.
All three of my coworkers who work nights at the hotel I work at all came from LA as well.
lol
03/05/2011
I desire to face my enemy.
These little ants are gnawing away at the foundations of my mask,
Thinking it is my face they bring to ruin--
By subterfuge, by implication,
By slander and by silence--
These are the jaws of the ants
And, for creatures, they are strong indeed!
I desire to lift my mask,
To unearth it from its foundations,
To gaze into the eyes of the ants--
Truth is my weapon, and directness,
Poignancy and disdain the small things
That they consider great--
No ant god shall be a god over me.
No ant king shall dictate my behavior.
No and lord shall pass judgment!
Flee my wrath, tiny creatures.
I shall break apart your chains and highways.
I shall disrupt your order with but a single motion.
I shall tear down your fortresses
And scatter you to the winds!
These little ants are gnawing away at the foundations of my mask,
Thinking it is my face they bring to ruin--
By subterfuge, by implication,
By slander and by silence--
These are the jaws of the ants
And, for creatures, they are strong indeed!
I desire to lift my mask,
To unearth it from its foundations,
To gaze into the eyes of the ants--
Truth is my weapon, and directness,
Poignancy and disdain the small things
That they consider great--
No ant god shall be a god over me.
No ant king shall dictate my behavior.
No and lord shall pass judgment!
Flee my wrath, tiny creatures.
I shall break apart your chains and highways.
I shall disrupt your order with but a single motion.
I shall tear down your fortresses
And scatter you to the winds!
03/04/2011
I need empty space.
I need solitude, isolation.
I need freedom.
Too much busywork consuming my time.
Too much dealing with other people.
Too much appeasing their unprofitable needs.
Too much of a mess around me, a mess not my own.
Too much cleaning up after my roommates.
I need to escape this.
I need to formulate a perfect plan.
I need to execute it soon.
I need solitude, isolation.
I need freedom.
Too much busywork consuming my time.
Too much dealing with other people.
Too much appeasing their unprofitable needs.
Too much of a mess around me, a mess not my own.
Too much cleaning up after my roommates.
I need to escape this.
I need to formulate a perfect plan.
I need to execute it soon.
03/03/2011
Winter has passed.
It is a season of things waiting
For a time that they can live again.
It is a season of survival
In the absence of light and warmth.
Now the spring begins,
Heralded by morning birds
And green shoots.
Yet winter remains.
Within me,
Here, I know
I am in the season of winter.
My life has had its hopeful springs,
Its blissful summers, its sighing autumns,
And they have passed into memory.
Shades have come and lived with me a while.
Shadows and silhouettes have carried my name away.
My name has been carried away, into my night.
Perhaps it is their day.
A boy breathed my name as if it were a word he knew well,
A word full of connotation and experience,
A word rich with meaning and significance.
I met this boy once, I spoke to him once, he seemed
Young, and content with what he had.
What he had is something I might envy
If I still could.
Some of these shadows have spoken of me in distant lands.
I have heard their reports, carried to me on the wings of a falcon.
I hear them as if hearing of some distant memory,
Some long-forgotten falsehood,
Some magnificent lie; not as if
They had spoken of me.
I could dissect my heart.
I could say thing like "this is my sorrow"
"This is my wrath"
"This is my contempt"
"This is my hope"
"This is my will"
I could do this, but I do not.
During winter, all things huddle;
They turn inward, they implode.
They survive off the warmth of their own beating flesh.
They await spring.
It is a season of things waiting
For a time that they can live again.
It is a season of survival
In the absence of light and warmth.
Now the spring begins,
Heralded by morning birds
And green shoots.
Yet winter remains.
Within me,
Here, I know
I am in the season of winter.
My life has had its hopeful springs,
Its blissful summers, its sighing autumns,
And they have passed into memory.
Shades have come and lived with me a while.
Shadows and silhouettes have carried my name away.
My name has been carried away, into my night.
Perhaps it is their day.
A boy breathed my name as if it were a word he knew well,
A word full of connotation and experience,
A word rich with meaning and significance.
I met this boy once, I spoke to him once, he seemed
Young, and content with what he had.
What he had is something I might envy
If I still could.
Some of these shadows have spoken of me in distant lands.
I have heard their reports, carried to me on the wings of a falcon.
I hear them as if hearing of some distant memory,
Some long-forgotten falsehood,
Some magnificent lie; not as if
They had spoken of me.
I could dissect my heart.
I could say thing like "this is my sorrow"
"This is my wrath"
"This is my contempt"
"This is my hope"
"This is my will"
I could do this, but I do not.
During winter, all things huddle;
They turn inward, they implode.
They survive off the warmth of their own beating flesh.
They await spring.
03/02/2011
There was a moment that I lay on the top of a grassy hill, on my back, at night. There were no lights anywhere, and the hill was high enough that nothing was in my field of vision but the sky. I lay there and stared up at the stars, and suddenly, a strange thing happened, something I had never experienced before and never have since.
I felt as though, in that moment, I perceived the universe from a perspective that was actually accurate, in terms of scale. I was a micron gazing at the immense ALL. I could feel myself moving through the universe so slowly that time almost seemed to cease existing.
I was looking at the stars today, at the constellation Orion mostly. It is my favorite. I was wondering if anyone in the thousands of years that humanity has existed had ever felt before what I felt. If a more primitive mind could still, from that same experience, derive the interpretation that I came to, even without any knowledge of astronomy.
I felt as though, in that moment, I perceived the universe from a perspective that was actually accurate, in terms of scale. I was a micron gazing at the immense ALL. I could feel myself moving through the universe so slowly that time almost seemed to cease existing.
I was looking at the stars today, at the constellation Orion mostly. It is my favorite. I was wondering if anyone in the thousands of years that humanity has existed had ever felt before what I felt. If a more primitive mind could still, from that same experience, derive the interpretation that I came to, even without any knowledge of astronomy.
03/01/2011
"There is something slow and soothing and gradual about the word and even about the idea [of evolution]. As a matter of fact, it is not, touching these primary things, a very practical word or a very profitable idea. Nobody can imagine how nothing could turn into something. Nobody can get an inch nearer to it by explaining how something could turn into something else. It is really far more logical to start by saying 'In the beginning God created heaven and earth' even if you only mean 'In the beginning some unthinkable power began some unthinkable process.' For God is by its nature a name of mystery, and nobody ever supposed that man could imagine how a world was created any more than he could create one. But evolution really is mistaken for explanation. It has the fatal quality of leaving on many minds the impression that they do understand it and everything else; just as many of them live under a sort of illusion that they have read the Origin of Species." -Chesterton from "Everlasting Man"
Chesterton equivocates here the idea of evolution with that of the creation myth, and uses this supposition to a great extent following this statement to deride the efforts of non-Christian scientists and anthropologists. However, this equivocation is completely illogical. Evolution is not a theory of how "nothing could turn into something" at all, in fact it is almost explicit that such it not the case. If Chesterton wanted to compare two equivocal things, he should have compared the creation myth to the big bang theory. That is a theory that states not much more than "in the beginning some unthinkable power began some unthinkable process." The idea that the theory of evolution and all the valuable insight is has provided into the history of human evolution, is rendered invalid simply because it does not append to its structure any explanation of how the process it describes began--that idea--is not only ridiculous, but obviously an exercise in bigotry.
Chesterton equivocates here the idea of evolution with that of the creation myth, and uses this supposition to a great extent following this statement to deride the efforts of non-Christian scientists and anthropologists. However, this equivocation is completely illogical. Evolution is not a theory of how "nothing could turn into something" at all, in fact it is almost explicit that such it not the case. If Chesterton wanted to compare two equivocal things, he should have compared the creation myth to the big bang theory. That is a theory that states not much more than "in the beginning some unthinkable power began some unthinkable process." The idea that the theory of evolution and all the valuable insight is has provided into the history of human evolution, is rendered invalid simply because it does not append to its structure any explanation of how the process it describes began--that idea--is not only ridiculous, but obviously an exercise in bigotry.
On "Everlasting Man" by G. K. Chesterton
Chesterton's first analogy of the boy who lives upon the giant and who dreams of finding such a thing by travelling far away, but who then, after travelling comes to realize that he had it all along, this compared to the dichotomy of a Christian in possession of faith to an atheist in possession of knowledge of Christianity, is in my opinion a useful comparison, but his assumption that the former case is inherently of greater property than the latter is, in my opinion, not only naïve but also indicative of a singular mindset that has yet to comprehend true empathy with mutually exclusive paradigms. It seems to me as if he has realized, perhaps by way of inspiration, perhaps by way of unconscious conviction, that the value of a separate paradigm, that of knowledge, of a perspective originating from without the subject, is incontrovertible, and yet even being in possession of such comprehension, he cannot yet bring himself to admit this paradigm as of equal value to his first paradigm of faith, therefore he must phrase his apprehension of it only as the "next best thing." It will remain to be seen in the continuation of his text whether this original problem with his thesis is ever resolved satisfactorily, but at the moment I doubt that such shall be the case, in which case, even should he prove to his own satisfaction his thesis, I foresee that I shall be disappointed with the effort.
Santa Clarita vs. San Antonio
The time has come to deride my current residence in favor of my former habitat.
But first, a few good things about SA:
1: Everything is cheaper. Literally. We are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment about 130% the size of the one we had in SC, with a much more efficient design and a balcony as well, and in a gated community, and we are paying about 58% of what we paid in SC, and we have valet garbage disposal! Groceries are about the same. I estimate that we pay about 60% of what we spent on groceries in SC. Gas is moderately cheaper. The only thing that is about the same price seems to be eating out. That's still pretty expensive.
2: Um... did I mention everything is cheaper? Yes. This is literally basically the only good thing I have to say about SA. Moving on.
A few bad/weird/irritating things about SA:
1: The first thing you would notice--the roads. The design of freeways and even city streets in SA is absolutely and unequivocally retarded. The first thing I noticed was that, unlike in Santa Clarita, roads that have lights on the intersections will randomly and without any good reason intermittently have stop signs at certain intersections instead of lights, on main streets! I flew past a few of those my first couple weeks here. That doesn't happen in SC. In fact, the only time I can think of a road transitioning from lights to stop signs at intersections is when you've pretty much followed it out to the middle of nowhere, and even then you get a sign warning you that this road that had lights at the intersections is about to have a stop sign up ahead. No such thing here. It's retarded. The signs in general here seem to be less informative. The freeways all use the same system for on/off ramps and its one of the dumbest ones there is, where the on-ramp comes up to the freeway and becomes another lane and then immediately that lane becomes an exit-only off-ramp, so people are nearly killing each other trying to switch places in the 50 or so feet they are afforded the opportunity to do so. Retarded. Also, the freeways all have these things called "frontage roads" next to them, which is basically just like having a few extra lanes to the freeway that have stoplights and intersections on them. It is completely illogical. It would make a lot more sense for them just to widen their (tiny) freeways a bit and stick to a normal design for roads.
2: Trucks. Let me explain this to you. In SC we have LA right next to us. Hollywood. OC. etc. There is a certain smell in the air, an aura of affluence. And in SC, nothing says that more than driving around a nice brand new Ferrari or Lamborghini, or an older restored one. When you see a guy in a perfect suit driving around Santa Monica in his 2010 Ferrari with a nice pretty girl in his passenger seat, sunglasses on, smooth hair blowing in the wind, you can sense this idea that "this is what it's all about"--that "this is real living." Now, I actually like that idea. But let me tell you the SA version of that idea, which is something I really don't like at all. Here's the SA version of that idea: "I'm in a truk...duh." Literally. I have seen the most stupid-looking savages driving around these parts in the dirtiest, filthiest, most outrageous trucks you could imagine acting like they owned the world. It makes me want to rip my teeth out.
3: Drunks. Ok. I'm in SC at 4:00 am on a Sunday night and I decide I'd like a nice glass of Black Label to finish off the evening. No problem. I'll just go to the nearest gas station or grocery store and get a bottle. In SA, no way is this happening. Not only do grocery stores not even carry real liquor (just beer and wine), but they don't sell any alcoholic beverages after 11pm and not at all on Sunday. What the fuck? Seriously. An entire state that is so deluded by their supposed religious convictions as to maintain such primitive sanctions. Now, that having been said, here's the real kicker. I lived in SC for almost 7 years. I've lived in SA for about 6 months. I swear to god that I have seen almost twice as many drunk bastards since I came here as I ever saw in SC, and that's including all the time I spent wasted out of my mind in SC. And people here get drunk off of anything they can get their hands on. I saw a guy the other night go through three cases of the shittiest beer I've ever seen. What the hell? And people here don't know how to contain themselves when they're drunk either. Fucking savages. At least in SC most of the drunks I saw were pretty decent drunk. Here, forget it. Every person I have seen drunk here acts like they just crawled out of a cave painting and found their first club.
4: Finally, the one thing I'm actually obliged to mention: the weather. Ok, it really isn't that terrible, I can imagine a lot worse. But I'm admittedly spoiled. Oh. Where are my months on end of perfect sunny days, not a cloud in the sky, 90 degree days and 75 degree nights, with the occasional refreshing breeze of cool ocean wind? Here, it can get up to 90, but you feel like you're confined in a tank full of vaporized sweat, the breeze is hot and unpleasant, and often so strong you can't light a cigarette, and tomorrow it will probably be 38 degrees and rain. You never know.
But first, a few good things about SA:
1: Everything is cheaper. Literally. We are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment about 130% the size of the one we had in SC, with a much more efficient design and a balcony as well, and in a gated community, and we are paying about 58% of what we paid in SC, and we have valet garbage disposal! Groceries are about the same. I estimate that we pay about 60% of what we spent on groceries in SC. Gas is moderately cheaper. The only thing that is about the same price seems to be eating out. That's still pretty expensive.
2: Um... did I mention everything is cheaper? Yes. This is literally basically the only good thing I have to say about SA. Moving on.
A few bad/weird/irritating things about SA:
1: The first thing you would notice--the roads. The design of freeways and even city streets in SA is absolutely and unequivocally retarded. The first thing I noticed was that, unlike in Santa Clarita, roads that have lights on the intersections will randomly and without any good reason intermittently have stop signs at certain intersections instead of lights, on main streets! I flew past a few of those my first couple weeks here. That doesn't happen in SC. In fact, the only time I can think of a road transitioning from lights to stop signs at intersections is when you've pretty much followed it out to the middle of nowhere, and even then you get a sign warning you that this road that had lights at the intersections is about to have a stop sign up ahead. No such thing here. It's retarded. The signs in general here seem to be less informative. The freeways all use the same system for on/off ramps and its one of the dumbest ones there is, where the on-ramp comes up to the freeway and becomes another lane and then immediately that lane becomes an exit-only off-ramp, so people are nearly killing each other trying to switch places in the 50 or so feet they are afforded the opportunity to do so. Retarded. Also, the freeways all have these things called "frontage roads" next to them, which is basically just like having a few extra lanes to the freeway that have stoplights and intersections on them. It is completely illogical. It would make a lot more sense for them just to widen their (tiny) freeways a bit and stick to a normal design for roads.
2: Trucks. Let me explain this to you. In SC we have LA right next to us. Hollywood. OC. etc. There is a certain smell in the air, an aura of affluence. And in SC, nothing says that more than driving around a nice brand new Ferrari or Lamborghini, or an older restored one. When you see a guy in a perfect suit driving around Santa Monica in his 2010 Ferrari with a nice pretty girl in his passenger seat, sunglasses on, smooth hair blowing in the wind, you can sense this idea that "this is what it's all about"--that "this is real living." Now, I actually like that idea. But let me tell you the SA version of that idea, which is something I really don't like at all. Here's the SA version of that idea: "I'm in a truk...duh." Literally. I have seen the most stupid-looking savages driving around these parts in the dirtiest, filthiest, most outrageous trucks you could imagine acting like they owned the world. It makes me want to rip my teeth out.
3: Drunks. Ok. I'm in SC at 4:00 am on a Sunday night and I decide I'd like a nice glass of Black Label to finish off the evening. No problem. I'll just go to the nearest gas station or grocery store and get a bottle. In SA, no way is this happening. Not only do grocery stores not even carry real liquor (just beer and wine), but they don't sell any alcoholic beverages after 11pm and not at all on Sunday. What the fuck? Seriously. An entire state that is so deluded by their supposed religious convictions as to maintain such primitive sanctions. Now, that having been said, here's the real kicker. I lived in SC for almost 7 years. I've lived in SA for about 6 months. I swear to god that I have seen almost twice as many drunk bastards since I came here as I ever saw in SC, and that's including all the time I spent wasted out of my mind in SC. And people here get drunk off of anything they can get their hands on. I saw a guy the other night go through three cases of the shittiest beer I've ever seen. What the hell? And people here don't know how to contain themselves when they're drunk either. Fucking savages. At least in SC most of the drunks I saw were pretty decent drunk. Here, forget it. Every person I have seen drunk here acts like they just crawled out of a cave painting and found their first club.
4: Finally, the one thing I'm actually obliged to mention: the weather. Ok, it really isn't that terrible, I can imagine a lot worse. But I'm admittedly spoiled. Oh. Where are my months on end of perfect sunny days, not a cloud in the sky, 90 degree days and 75 degree nights, with the occasional refreshing breeze of cool ocean wind? Here, it can get up to 90, but you feel like you're confined in a tank full of vaporized sweat, the breeze is hot and unpleasant, and often so strong you can't light a cigarette, and tomorrow it will probably be 38 degrees and rain. You never know.
02/27/2011
Notes from an old journal:
Adam. Not "god"--the transcendent point. Existing in "faith" his knowledge is limited, and yet "complete." Yet, he has the desire to become "more like God." So he rejects faith, in so doing, realizing the paradox of subjectivity and objectivity, and his own infinite shortcoming, that he is not "god."
Either:
"It is good to not desire to become something better." (defense of God)
Or:
"It is evil to command a subject to remain flawed and grant the same subject the moral perception." (defense of man)
If Adam were truly without any moral perception, he would have had no motivation to "sin," for there would be no desire for the state of knowledge, or, to be "like god."
If he is created with moral perception then God's command is flawed, being both "I am the perfection who speaks this command" and "I command you to remain imperfect."
Adam. Not "god"--the transcendent point. Existing in "faith" his knowledge is limited, and yet "complete." Yet, he has the desire to become "more like God." So he rejects faith, in so doing, realizing the paradox of subjectivity and objectivity, and his own infinite shortcoming, that he is not "god."
Either:
"It is good to not desire to become something better." (defense of God)
Or:
"It is evil to command a subject to remain flawed and grant the same subject the moral perception." (defense of man)
If Adam were truly without any moral perception, he would have had no motivation to "sin," for there would be no desire for the state of knowledge, or, to be "like god."
If he is created with moral perception then God's command is flawed, being both "I am the perfection who speaks this command" and "I command you to remain imperfect."
02/26/2011
I was reading some old notes and came across one that I wanted to develop a bit more here. I had been thinking about insanity, and had come to the conclusion that there are three basic types of insanity.
The first is the insanity associated with psychic immaturity. This is not actually insanity at all, but can at times manifest itself in similar fashions. The nature of this psychic state is such that an unusual probability or propensity toward insanity is the case. Usually this is due to a specific deficit in the psychic development, and as such, can only be realized upon exposure to a specific psychic dilemma. If this is the case, the exposure will often catapult the individual into the third tier of insanity, or at least endanger them unto that end. An analogy can be made between this case and a person who has not been vaccinated against a common ailment. The mind is healthy enough until it is met with an affliction that is has no means to combat. What makes this mind different from a healthy mind is that a healthy mind would have already created antibodies, so to speak, to combat the disease. Rarely, this first type of insanity can be a more general probability or propensity toward insanity, in such cases often due to an inherited predisposition, whether it be genetic/neurological or learned behavior. In this case, the individual in question will often regularly exhibit symptoms of the second tier of insanity, often obsessing over the question of whether or not they are "insane" and what specifically is the definition of their mental deficit. An analogy here could be that the mind is similar to a body suffering from an immunodeficiency disorder. The problem is not that the mind is afflicted, but rather that it is afflicted because it lacks the regular means of combating such affliction. An attempt to cure the affliction will only clear the way for other, potentially more serious afflictions. The root issue must be dealt with instead. In either case, this type of insanity is best described as a potential for insanity.
The second type of insanity is that of manifestation. This is a sporadic occurrence characterized by a momentary loss of psychic control. This type of insanity is extremely common and occurs in the vast majority of the population, and is often overlooked as an insignificant event. Circumstantial causalities are often associated with such manifestations, and their actualization is often a signifier of the extent of the individual's potential unto insanity. An increasing rate of these manifestations is often a signifier of a decline in psychic health that could lead to the third type of insanity.
The third type of insanity is affliction. This is a state of constant loss of psychic control, often diagnosed as schizophrenia or delusional disorder. In this state, the psyche has fully succumbed to the psychological disease, and this disease, whatever its nature, often functions as a parasitic organism, a completely independent psychic structure that by merit of its destruction of the healthy psyche increases its own vitality.
The first is the insanity associated with psychic immaturity. This is not actually insanity at all, but can at times manifest itself in similar fashions. The nature of this psychic state is such that an unusual probability or propensity toward insanity is the case. Usually this is due to a specific deficit in the psychic development, and as such, can only be realized upon exposure to a specific psychic dilemma. If this is the case, the exposure will often catapult the individual into the third tier of insanity, or at least endanger them unto that end. An analogy can be made between this case and a person who has not been vaccinated against a common ailment. The mind is healthy enough until it is met with an affliction that is has no means to combat. What makes this mind different from a healthy mind is that a healthy mind would have already created antibodies, so to speak, to combat the disease. Rarely, this first type of insanity can be a more general probability or propensity toward insanity, in such cases often due to an inherited predisposition, whether it be genetic/neurological or learned behavior. In this case, the individual in question will often regularly exhibit symptoms of the second tier of insanity, often obsessing over the question of whether or not they are "insane" and what specifically is the definition of their mental deficit. An analogy here could be that the mind is similar to a body suffering from an immunodeficiency disorder. The problem is not that the mind is afflicted, but rather that it is afflicted because it lacks the regular means of combating such affliction. An attempt to cure the affliction will only clear the way for other, potentially more serious afflictions. The root issue must be dealt with instead. In either case, this type of insanity is best described as a potential for insanity.
The second type of insanity is that of manifestation. This is a sporadic occurrence characterized by a momentary loss of psychic control. This type of insanity is extremely common and occurs in the vast majority of the population, and is often overlooked as an insignificant event. Circumstantial causalities are often associated with such manifestations, and their actualization is often a signifier of the extent of the individual's potential unto insanity. An increasing rate of these manifestations is often a signifier of a decline in psychic health that could lead to the third type of insanity.
The third type of insanity is affliction. This is a state of constant loss of psychic control, often diagnosed as schizophrenia or delusional disorder. In this state, the psyche has fully succumbed to the psychological disease, and this disease, whatever its nature, often functions as a parasitic organism, a completely independent psychic structure that by merit of its destruction of the healthy psyche increases its own vitality.
02/25/2011
I'm not sure if this quote is by Carl Jung or by Anthony Storr paraphrasing Jung, but it struck me:
"Only a genius or a madman could so disentangle himself from the bonds of reality as to see the world as his picture-book."
This is a paradigm that I have long been familiar with. What that makes me I do not know, but I remember that I found the case study the quote was referencing to be quite intriguing.
"Only a genius or a madman could so disentangle himself from the bonds of reality as to see the world as his picture-book."
This is a paradigm that I have long been familiar with. What that makes me I do not know, but I remember that I found the case study the quote was referencing to be quite intriguing.
02/24/2011
A quarter of a century--that is how long I have existed, and, like Milton, I feel that during this time I have largely squandered my potential. However, I would like to believe that this time has not been entirely wasted, for it has served to allow me to become what I am today, a metamorphosis extraordinary, a transition from nothingness, to chaos, to dictated order, to brokenness, to self-imposed order, to individuation, and finally, to freedom.
I feel that here, at this point, I can finally begin to consider accomplishing something with this life that I possess. While my aspirations are too numerous to be practical, yet a specific category has singled itself out as not only within my means to accomplish, and that potentially uniquely, but also as an accomplishment that I would perceive as justifying my existence. That is, the written word.
Toward this end, I have been considering for some time what I must set myself to do, and have at last decided upon the following goals. I present them here not only to enforce this resolution, but also to provide a first glimpse into what may, in a short space of time, begin to occupy the majority of my effort and thus the majority of my posts here.
List (in order of priority):
Assimilation and Transcendence
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To present a unifying theory of human autoevolution that operates simultaneously in the fields of sociology, psychology, and philosophy, in order to benefit humanity in generations to come.
BABEL
Format: Sci-Fi Manga
Purpose: To tell by way of parable prophecies of the future of humanity in order to instigate the consideration of problems that future generations will be required to solve.
The Bizarre Community
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To instigate a specific evolution of thought that will one day result in the eradication of religious thought.
Autobiography
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To give a true, unadulterated, and blatant account of my life experiences.
Time has a way of bringing unexpected change, but at the moment this is the best prediction I can give for the near future of my effort, and I intend fully to devote myself to it.
I feel that here, at this point, I can finally begin to consider accomplishing something with this life that I possess. While my aspirations are too numerous to be practical, yet a specific category has singled itself out as not only within my means to accomplish, and that potentially uniquely, but also as an accomplishment that I would perceive as justifying my existence. That is, the written word.
Toward this end, I have been considering for some time what I must set myself to do, and have at last decided upon the following goals. I present them here not only to enforce this resolution, but also to provide a first glimpse into what may, in a short space of time, begin to occupy the majority of my effort and thus the majority of my posts here.
List (in order of priority):
Assimilation and Transcendence
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To present a unifying theory of human autoevolution that operates simultaneously in the fields of sociology, psychology, and philosophy, in order to benefit humanity in generations to come.
BABEL
Format: Sci-Fi Manga
Purpose: To tell by way of parable prophecies of the future of humanity in order to instigate the consideration of problems that future generations will be required to solve.
The Bizarre Community
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To instigate a specific evolution of thought that will one day result in the eradication of religious thought.
Autobiography
Format: Non-Fiction Book
Purpose: To give a true, unadulterated, and blatant account of my life experiences.
Time has a way of bringing unexpected change, but at the moment this is the best prediction I can give for the near future of my effort, and I intend fully to devote myself to it.
02/23/2011
She is like a doll.
I see within her an aspect of my Anima. An abandon, a recklessness, a disregard for others, a willful debauchery. A mask perhaps of something, some potential, wonderful truth behind the sham of what others call beauty.
But I doubt that there is anything there at all. Like the doll, she makes us children wish she were alive, real. But she is just a plaything, a toy to be fondled by the foolish. She is the epitome of worthlessness.
But I doubt myself. I am too pessimistic. I assume the worst. Who am I to say what the core of her soul contains? I have no miraculous insight, no unique skill of perception. I think, I should inquire, I should explore, I should endeavor to comprehend. I should attempt to prove one way or the other, what she is.
But I know also what I am. I am not only this elect thing. I am not only this thing of value and of merit. I am not only this thing of substance and truth. Within me there is also what is without her. Within me is a beast, a primal, urging beast. Within me is the sum of all her faults and more. It leers at me as I contemplate myself. It whispers, "I am you." "I would rape, I would plunder, I would coerce and attain by force, I would assert my will with no regard for consequence, if only... if only you would but let me."
I see within her an aspect of my Anima. An abandon, a recklessness, a disregard for others, a willful debauchery. A mask perhaps of something, some potential, wonderful truth behind the sham of what others call beauty.
But I doubt that there is anything there at all. Like the doll, she makes us children wish she were alive, real. But she is just a plaything, a toy to be fondled by the foolish. She is the epitome of worthlessness.
But I doubt myself. I am too pessimistic. I assume the worst. Who am I to say what the core of her soul contains? I have no miraculous insight, no unique skill of perception. I think, I should inquire, I should explore, I should endeavor to comprehend. I should attempt to prove one way or the other, what she is.
But I know also what I am. I am not only this elect thing. I am not only this thing of value and of merit. I am not only this thing of substance and truth. Within me there is also what is without her. Within me is a beast, a primal, urging beast. Within me is the sum of all her faults and more. It leers at me as I contemplate myself. It whispers, "I am you." "I would rape, I would plunder, I would coerce and attain by force, I would assert my will with no regard for consequence, if only... if only you would but let me."
02/22/2011
Notes from an old journal:
Os iusi meditabitur sapientiam
The mouth of the just shall meditate wisdom
Et lingua eius loquetur indicium
And his tongue shall speak judgment
Beatus vin qui suffert tentationem
Blessed is the man who endures temptation
Quoniam cum probatus fuerit
For, once he has been tried
Accipict coronam vitae
He shall receive the crown of life
Kyrie. Ignis divine, eleison
Oh Lord, oh Holy Fire, have mercy
Oh quam sancta, quam serena
Oh how sacred, how serene
Quam benigna, quam amoena
How benevolent, how lovely
Oh castitatis lilium
Oh Lily of Purity
Any authority is rendered null and void insomuch as it demands subordination on the basis of error.
Another morning of cheep sunlight
Falling on forgotten dreams
Another afternoon of careworn hands
Clutching at dying things
I rolled a cigarette out of words
And smoked it to the butt
The devil within you
Is empty words
"More strictly, however, it [murder] denoted secret murder, which in Germanic antiquity was alone regarded as (in the modern sense) a crime, open homicide being considered a private wrong calling for blood-revenge or compensation." -excerpt from OED on 'Murder'
Pages and ink to lock away my hopes and fears and dreams and tears, to relegate these aspects of my humanity to nothingness, to leave me as I in resignation have determined to become, empty and waste.
Passion is the bitch that reason sometimes falls for.
Os iusi meditabitur sapientiam
The mouth of the just shall meditate wisdom
Et lingua eius loquetur indicium
And his tongue shall speak judgment
Beatus vin qui suffert tentationem
Blessed is the man who endures temptation
Quoniam cum probatus fuerit
For, once he has been tried
Accipict coronam vitae
He shall receive the crown of life
Kyrie. Ignis divine, eleison
Oh Lord, oh Holy Fire, have mercy
Oh quam sancta, quam serena
Oh how sacred, how serene
Quam benigna, quam amoena
How benevolent, how lovely
Oh castitatis lilium
Oh Lily of Purity
Any authority is rendered null and void insomuch as it demands subordination on the basis of error.
Another morning of cheep sunlight
Falling on forgotten dreams
Another afternoon of careworn hands
Clutching at dying things
I rolled a cigarette out of words
And smoked it to the butt
The devil within you
Is empty words
"More strictly, however, it [murder] denoted secret murder, which in Germanic antiquity was alone regarded as (in the modern sense) a crime, open homicide being considered a private wrong calling for blood-revenge or compensation." -excerpt from OED on 'Murder'
Pages and ink to lock away my hopes and fears and dreams and tears, to relegate these aspects of my humanity to nothingness, to leave me as I in resignation have determined to become, empty and waste.
Passion is the bitch that reason sometimes falls for.
Reaction to News Story of Mother Unjustly Arrested on Suspicion of Terrorism
Source
In my opinion, the people who did this to her should be publicly executed. This behavior is precisely the kind of behavior that prefaced the Nazi regime of Germany. I’d much rather have a monster in our midst than have us become a monster. When those in authority are free to commit this type of crime and get away with nothing more than a potentially successful lawsuit, what is going to stop them aside from public outrage and retaliation? Just look at the state of Egypt. That’s where we are going if this type of crime is not dealt with swiftly and decisively.
In my opinion, the people who did this to her should be publicly executed. This behavior is precisely the kind of behavior that prefaced the Nazi regime of Germany. I’d much rather have a monster in our midst than have us become a monster. When those in authority are free to commit this type of crime and get away with nothing more than a potentially successful lawsuit, what is going to stop them aside from public outrage and retaliation? Just look at the state of Egypt. That’s where we are going if this type of crime is not dealt with swiftly and decisively.
02/21/2011
I'm having trouble writing. I can look at my outlines and my notes for hours and see in them the potential of communicating the entirety of my thought in this regard, but when I then attempt to assemble it into words and sentences and paragraphs and chapters, it seems to inevitably lose its force and perfection. I need to achieve balance in my writing, balance between technicality and vividness, between elaboration and simplification, between necessary and superfluous. I need also to permit myself to be consumed by this effort. I can feel it approaching, the moment that I will relinquish myself to it entirely. The moment that the wings of inspiration, born aloft by the wind of effort, shall finally carry me into the glorious and surreal heaven of effortless expression.
02/20/2011
Grown within my soul
Is a lone hyacinth
I placed its seed within that certain spring
Where Thetis wrought her partial act
And there it learned innocent pride
Unintended power and unmatched beauty
Constructed within my mind
Is the wall
I placed its bricks on a foundation of bones
And mixed its mortar with my blood
It has no door or window
It cannot be moved
Is a lone hyacinth
I placed its seed within that certain spring
Where Thetis wrought her partial act
And there it learned innocent pride
Unintended power and unmatched beauty
Constructed within my mind
Is the wall
I placed its bricks on a foundation of bones
And mixed its mortar with my blood
It has no door or window
It cannot be moved
Art is Mimesis
I was just reading a post by a friend over at Wordpress about the difficulty involved in the discernment of the origin of art. As I worked on my response, bringing up the concept of empathic recognition due to the expression of an assimilated archetype of the collective unconscious, I realized that I am not entirely content with this paradigm of interpreting the virtue or quality or property of art.
I agree that the mimetic nature of art is potentially best explained by this paradigm, but I also believe that another necessary property of art is that it must not only inspire its author and its perceiver, but also affect within both a change defined as a positive evolution. This is the reason that I would claim that true art must not only be mimetic in nature, it must be prophetic as well.
I was reminded during the construction of this thought of my experience of reading Thus Spake Zarathustra. I am fairly certain of the fact that I have never encountered a work of art as magnificent as this one small collection of parables. I was also reminded of my studies of the Bible, particularly Ezekiel, and of certain portions of the Upanishads. Likewise, some music also seems to carry a prophetic tone to it. I will never forget listening to my former school's orchestra and chorale perform the entirety of Handel's Messiah.
This is simply an observation of the moment, but definitely something I think I should devote more thought to.
I agree that the mimetic nature of art is potentially best explained by this paradigm, but I also believe that another necessary property of art is that it must not only inspire its author and its perceiver, but also affect within both a change defined as a positive evolution. This is the reason that I would claim that true art must not only be mimetic in nature, it must be prophetic as well.
I was reminded during the construction of this thought of my experience of reading Thus Spake Zarathustra. I am fairly certain of the fact that I have never encountered a work of art as magnificent as this one small collection of parables. I was also reminded of my studies of the Bible, particularly Ezekiel, and of certain portions of the Upanishads. Likewise, some music also seems to carry a prophetic tone to it. I will never forget listening to my former school's orchestra and chorale perform the entirety of Handel's Messiah.
This is simply an observation of the moment, but definitely something I think I should devote more thought to.
02/19/2011
Notes from an old journal:
I was sitting in a certain class and a teacher named Doctor Boyd, the most stuck-up little square I've ever met, was saying something about Immanuel Kant, but he accidentally pronounced the last name "cunt," and then immediately froze up, and this girl sitting behind me just cracked up, not too loud, but still very notable in the dead silence of the room.
I have a sudden desire to start a train.
Trying to express ideas with words is like trying to build trees out of lumber.
Twinkle twinkle little star
I know too well just what you are
Up above the world so high
Pompous, rich, and soon to die.
"Man has found in the imaginary reality of heaven where he looked for a superman only the reflection of his own self." - Karl Marx
I'm at a party, bored, and wishing I could leave without being seen.
I was sitting in a certain class and a teacher named Doctor Boyd, the most stuck-up little square I've ever met, was saying something about Immanuel Kant, but he accidentally pronounced the last name "cunt," and then immediately froze up, and this girl sitting behind me just cracked up, not too loud, but still very notable in the dead silence of the room.
I have a sudden desire to start a train.
Trying to express ideas with words is like trying to build trees out of lumber.
Twinkle twinkle little star
I know too well just what you are
Up above the world so high
Pompous, rich, and soon to die.
"Man has found in the imaginary reality of heaven where he looked for a superman only the reflection of his own self." - Karl Marx
I'm at a party, bored, and wishing I could leave without being seen.
02/18/2011
Time to get real.
There are a lot of things that should bother me. Things that I think of, and that in that moment I recognize as something I should feel something about. I should feel angry about this. I should feel insulted by that. I should feel human. And a part of me does, I suppose. But these things, when I look at them, at their pettiness and meaninglessness and transience, I laugh at myself, I reprove myself even, for even considering actually taking action in order to assert my own right to comfort. I am not a person who would do such a thing. People do this kind of thing all the time, I see them, defending like pathetic children their own stupid little agendas. Asserting their own interests over those of others around them, while showing no desire to comprehend or satisfy the interests of those whose compliance they demand. And when they don't get their way, they throw adult tantrums. Subtle, so they think. And thus acceptable. But to me, such things are glaring statements, blazing signal fires.
I make a point to comply with such people's wishes. I comply, and I judge them. This person, these people, they are defined to me by their actions. I do not act as they do, for it is useless. But should I ever take action, the action I would take would be final. It would be an action of accomplishment, not of demonstration. They would probably slander me for such an action, because I would not disguise it as they do. Even more, they would resent me for being effective rather than defective. But they would not know that I would know, myself, what they had done to justify my actions.
I am free in many ways that others are not. My mind is free. I am awake. My eyes are opened. So the sayings go. I am everything that I require of myself to be, and what I am is the beginning form of what I desire to be. But in many other ways I am not free. In many other ways the touch of others has confined me. Others have labeled me. Others have defined me, poorly. Others have assumed that I am like them, and that thus I must live by their conceptions and their rules. This is not the case.
I do not know what I will do about this situation. It is quite possible that I shall do nothing, so long as my own intentions are not hindered by their misconceptions. But should those misconceptions ever threaten my intentions, my imperatives, they will find that I shall be swift and ruthless in the destruction of their folly and the laying aside of their meager restraints.
There are a lot of things that should bother me. Things that I think of, and that in that moment I recognize as something I should feel something about. I should feel angry about this. I should feel insulted by that. I should feel human. And a part of me does, I suppose. But these things, when I look at them, at their pettiness and meaninglessness and transience, I laugh at myself, I reprove myself even, for even considering actually taking action in order to assert my own right to comfort. I am not a person who would do such a thing. People do this kind of thing all the time, I see them, defending like pathetic children their own stupid little agendas. Asserting their own interests over those of others around them, while showing no desire to comprehend or satisfy the interests of those whose compliance they demand. And when they don't get their way, they throw adult tantrums. Subtle, so they think. And thus acceptable. But to me, such things are glaring statements, blazing signal fires.
I make a point to comply with such people's wishes. I comply, and I judge them. This person, these people, they are defined to me by their actions. I do not act as they do, for it is useless. But should I ever take action, the action I would take would be final. It would be an action of accomplishment, not of demonstration. They would probably slander me for such an action, because I would not disguise it as they do. Even more, they would resent me for being effective rather than defective. But they would not know that I would know, myself, what they had done to justify my actions.
I am free in many ways that others are not. My mind is free. I am awake. My eyes are opened. So the sayings go. I am everything that I require of myself to be, and what I am is the beginning form of what I desire to be. But in many other ways I am not free. In many other ways the touch of others has confined me. Others have labeled me. Others have defined me, poorly. Others have assumed that I am like them, and that thus I must live by their conceptions and their rules. This is not the case.
I do not know what I will do about this situation. It is quite possible that I shall do nothing, so long as my own intentions are not hindered by their misconceptions. But should those misconceptions ever threaten my intentions, my imperatives, they will find that I shall be swift and ruthless in the destruction of their folly and the laying aside of their meager restraints.
02/17/2011
More notes from an old journal:
One of my major pet peeves is when pastors use adjectives in the place of adverbs, e.g. "walk worthy," "live godly," etc.
Ataraxia: Stoic, detached, and balanced state of mind. The climax of philosophy.
Janus: Roman god with two faces, facing opposite directions, representing controversy. His temple was kept closed in time of peace, and was opened during time of war.
Dressed in mourning blackness I stand, so primitive, so estranged; beleaguered all the world about me, and taunting the fair ambrosia; together we climb hand in hand to an infinite expanse undestined and indeterminate.
Just do this. Sit in a Starbucks sometime and just watch each and every woman's almost inevitable visit to the restroom; it's hilarious. You can tell if a man can hold his liquor by whether he vomits. You can tell if a woman can hold her coffee by whether or not she has to piss five minutes or less after her first cup.
"Mu"
Neither "yes" nor "no."
The answer supersedes the context within which the question was raised.
Unask the question.
Attain balance.
These days 'gourmet' can mean anything from "just this stupid bottle of wine costs $700, but you bought it so you must be such a great person" to "now your dehydrated noodles also come with a packet of dehydrated vegetables, whoo-hoo."
One of my major pet peeves is when pastors use adjectives in the place of adverbs, e.g. "walk worthy," "live godly," etc.
Ataraxia: Stoic, detached, and balanced state of mind. The climax of philosophy.
Janus: Roman god with two faces, facing opposite directions, representing controversy. His temple was kept closed in time of peace, and was opened during time of war.
Dressed in mourning blackness I stand, so primitive, so estranged; beleaguered all the world about me, and taunting the fair ambrosia; together we climb hand in hand to an infinite expanse undestined and indeterminate.
Just do this. Sit in a Starbucks sometime and just watch each and every woman's almost inevitable visit to the restroom; it's hilarious. You can tell if a man can hold his liquor by whether he vomits. You can tell if a woman can hold her coffee by whether or not she has to piss five minutes or less after her first cup.
"Mu"
Neither "yes" nor "no."
The answer supersedes the context within which the question was raised.
Unask the question.
Attain balance.
These days 'gourmet' can mean anything from "just this stupid bottle of wine costs $700, but you bought it so you must be such a great person" to "now your dehydrated noodles also come with a packet of dehydrated vegetables, whoo-hoo."
On the most fascinating subject of the science of perfumes:
Many may be unaware that there is actually a science to the crafting of a good perfume. What most people use as perfumes today are just synthetic creations of chemists, trying to make something as cheep and smelly as possible. Real perfumery works on the principle that three different levels of scent are necessary to craft a good perfume. These three levels are known as Top Notes, Heart Notes, and Base Notes. A Top Note is a scent that dissipates or evaporates quickly so as to give a certain important but transient hint of scent to the perfume upon its first application. A Heart Note is a scent that defines the uniqueness of the perfume and persists for a duration of a few hours after first application. A Base Note is a scent that supports the quality of the Heart Note(s), and also ensures that the perfume will continue to have a pleasing aroma many hours after its first application. The reason this last point is necessary is that any perfume, a few hours after its first application, will begin to undergo chemical changes due to interaction with the skin and oils secreted by the skin, and exposure to sunlight and air, which, without proper consideration, can alter the scent of the perfume throughout the day to a displeasing effect. Base Notes ensure the chemical stability of the perfume and they ensure a pleasant aroma after any unpreventable chemical changes have occurred.
Many substances used in the crafting of a perfume can be described by different terms depending upon the amount of wax present in their composition. Beginning with the most wax present and progressing to the least, these terms are "butters," "concretes," "absolutes," and "essential oils." There are technically four different types of perfumes according to their aromatic content: Eau de cologne, at 2-3% aromatic content; Eau de toilette, at 5-20% aromatic content; Eau de parfum, at 10-30% aromatic content; and Perfume Extract, at 20-40% aromatic content.
Following are some examples of substances traditionally regarded as important Top, Heart, and Base Notes.
Top Notes:
Heart Notes:
Base Notes:
The art of crafting perfumes is most involved with a combinations of Top, Heart, and Base Notes such that the overall product maintains a pleasing and distinctive aroma throughout its transition through each.
Many substances used in the crafting of a perfume can be described by different terms depending upon the amount of wax present in their composition. Beginning with the most wax present and progressing to the least, these terms are "butters," "concretes," "absolutes," and "essential oils." There are technically four different types of perfumes according to their aromatic content: Eau de cologne, at 2-3% aromatic content; Eau de toilette, at 5-20% aromatic content; Eau de parfum, at 10-30% aromatic content; and Perfume Extract, at 20-40% aromatic content.
Following are some examples of substances traditionally regarded as important Top, Heart, and Base Notes.
Top Notes:
- Citrus
- Ginger
- Iris (roots)
- Juniper berry
- Grapefruit rind
Heart Notes:
- Lavander
- Rose
- Jasmine
- Ylang-ylang tree blossoms
- Fleece
- Violets
- Rosemary
- Cedar
- Sassafras root bark
Base Notes:
- Musk (gland pod from deer or civet)
- Vetiver grass (essential oil)
- Lemon grass
- Palmarosa (grass)
- Ambergris
- Cedar
- Sandalwood
- Rosewood
- Agarwood (essential oil)
- Labdanum resin (good quality is clear)
- Frankincense resin (good quality is clear)
- Myrrh resin (good quality is dark, also, burnt myrrh resin)
- Benzoin resin (also works to slow the evaporation of essential oils)
- Oakmoss (lichen)
- Burnt amber
The art of crafting perfumes is most involved with a combinations of Top, Heart, and Base Notes such that the overall product maintains a pleasing and distinctive aroma throughout its transition through each.
02/16/2011
Random notes from an old journal:
I want to tell the whole world how I feel, but instead I just sit, staring in this empty mirror, and no one will ever know what I see in my own eyes. Like little children, they fiddle at my heart-strings, while the master violinist sits by and refuses to play.
People force-feed geese to make their livers bloat to five times the normal size. Then they kill them to harvest the livers, which they sell as a delicacy. Livers filter out poison. I wonder what the spiritual liver of a force-fed christian looks like. This is the reason chaplains apologize for being cliché and repeatedly, and pathetically, beg us to listen, to pay attention. I would rather go to someone's home and meet with some others and discuss theology and philosophy over cookies and some coffee. Why not make it real? I'm sorry. Is that too much for you to stomach?
So much momentary satisfaction at being trapped in a bigger and better box than the one before. Materialism is meaningless.
There's a sadness to the softness of a slowly slipping friend
When you've lost that mystic something
And what somehow was is somehow at an end
I want to tell the whole world how I feel, but instead I just sit, staring in this empty mirror, and no one will ever know what I see in my own eyes. Like little children, they fiddle at my heart-strings, while the master violinist sits by and refuses to play.
People force-feed geese to make their livers bloat to five times the normal size. Then they kill them to harvest the livers, which they sell as a delicacy. Livers filter out poison. I wonder what the spiritual liver of a force-fed christian looks like. This is the reason chaplains apologize for being cliché and repeatedly, and pathetically, beg us to listen, to pay attention. I would rather go to someone's home and meet with some others and discuss theology and philosophy over cookies and some coffee. Why not make it real? I'm sorry. Is that too much for you to stomach?
So much momentary satisfaction at being trapped in a bigger and better box than the one before. Materialism is meaningless.
There's a sadness to the softness of a slowly slipping friend
When you've lost that mystic something
And what somehow was is somehow at an end
02/15/2011
Yesterday my friend Brad from Arizona was over visiting and he and I talked a bit about psychology and physics.
My own ideas of physics are very much akin to determinism. I was thinking the other day of how I could construct a series of thought experiments and arguments to elucidate some of my ideas. Unfortunately, I really am hampered by a lack of knowledge in these areas. I really with I could just sit down one day with someone who knew a lot about this stuff and go over my ideas with them. Anyway, here's some of what I've thought.
Time is an illusion extant due to our capacity for memory of previous perceptions.
What we consider time is actually nothing more or less than relative motion.
If any system is accelerated to the speed of light in one direction, time within that system ceases to exist, as no relative motion is possible.
Any force applied to a system in order to accelerate it can either accelerate the entire system or cause the system to become unstable and destruct.
All systems are composed of energy and all energy travels at the speed of light.
Any observation apparently contradicting this last statement is only due to the fact that the object being measured is a system in motion at less than the speed of light, as the relative motion of its components demands.
What we know of as inertia is the necessity of a system to adjust the relative motion of its components in order to accommodate a change in the motion of the entire system.
The Heisenberg uncertainty principle is inaccurate as it assumes the only method of measuring a particle's position and velocity is to effect the particle by an application of energy.
A particle's position and velocity could theoretically be known by measuring the effect of that particle's gravitational force upon its surroundings, independent of any application of energy to the particle.
If all systems are composed of energy, the complete destruction of a system into its elementary particles could yield perfect information concerning the composition of the original system, assuming every elementary particle's position and velocity could be measured.
If such measurement could occur, the system in question could theoretically be reassembled in exactly the same form it existed in before its destruction.
Such destruction could theoretically be accomplished by the application of antimatter to an object.
The information required to reconstruct an object's "past" is necessarily contained within that sphere defined by the radius that object's past times the speed of light.
Therefore, the entire history of any object could be known if only the destruction of all contents of such a sphere and the subsequent recording of the remaining elementary particles were affected.
If travel exceeding the speed of light were ever to become possible, it would be theoretically possible to reconstruct the entirety of human history, assuming that sufficient matter existed in the universe to accomplish the record of such history.
My own ideas of physics are very much akin to determinism. I was thinking the other day of how I could construct a series of thought experiments and arguments to elucidate some of my ideas. Unfortunately, I really am hampered by a lack of knowledge in these areas. I really with I could just sit down one day with someone who knew a lot about this stuff and go over my ideas with them. Anyway, here's some of what I've thought.
Time is an illusion extant due to our capacity for memory of previous perceptions.
What we consider time is actually nothing more or less than relative motion.
If any system is accelerated to the speed of light in one direction, time within that system ceases to exist, as no relative motion is possible.
Any force applied to a system in order to accelerate it can either accelerate the entire system or cause the system to become unstable and destruct.
All systems are composed of energy and all energy travels at the speed of light.
Any observation apparently contradicting this last statement is only due to the fact that the object being measured is a system in motion at less than the speed of light, as the relative motion of its components demands.
What we know of as inertia is the necessity of a system to adjust the relative motion of its components in order to accommodate a change in the motion of the entire system.
The Heisenberg uncertainty principle is inaccurate as it assumes the only method of measuring a particle's position and velocity is to effect the particle by an application of energy.
A particle's position and velocity could theoretically be known by measuring the effect of that particle's gravitational force upon its surroundings, independent of any application of energy to the particle.
If all systems are composed of energy, the complete destruction of a system into its elementary particles could yield perfect information concerning the composition of the original system, assuming every elementary particle's position and velocity could be measured.
If such measurement could occur, the system in question could theoretically be reassembled in exactly the same form it existed in before its destruction.
Such destruction could theoretically be accomplished by the application of antimatter to an object.
The information required to reconstruct an object's "past" is necessarily contained within that sphere defined by the radius that object's past times the speed of light.
Therefore, the entire history of any object could be known if only the destruction of all contents of such a sphere and the subsequent recording of the remaining elementary particles were affected.
If travel exceeding the speed of light were ever to become possible, it would be theoretically possible to reconstruct the entirety of human history, assuming that sufficient matter existed in the universe to accomplish the record of such history.
yes
I will write random shit here.
On a side-note, creating a syndicated feed for my blog is a real pain in the ass.
Also, I wish I had more time to do stuff on this site because it currently feels so incomplete.
Random quote by my coworker in housekeeping about my boss at the front desk:
"Yeah that guy, I don't know... he just has the personality of like a freaking banana peel or something..."
lol
On a side-note, creating a syndicated feed for my blog is a real pain in the ass.
Also, I wish I had more time to do stuff on this site because it currently feels so incomplete.
Random quote by my coworker in housekeeping about my boss at the front desk:
"Yeah that guy, I don't know... he just has the personality of like a freaking banana peel or something..."
lol
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