And with him came the typewriter, the very child of electricity, assuring to the immediate the same impact as the heavily reasoned, delivering to fanzines and Ellison anthologies equal weight in causational-accretionist reason-desires. For it was a double edged sword, laying this onus of creativity as it did upon the procrastinator laboring above the machine (Welcome!) Not just an exhortation to the use of bigger, seriouser words, but words that derived their existence, not solely from the self setting itself on paper, but from a larger Being of which the author was only a telegraph agent.
Perhaps, he thought, they even tune the motors on the fuckers (suppose they did? Who'd
know it!) to whatever
GOVERNMENT FREQUENCY SPECIFICATION FOR MOTORS USED IN THE SUSTENANCE OF ARTIFICIAL CONSCIOUSNESS
Not submission to an awareness larger than self, screams enfant terrible kubrick, not realizing that clarke has minds-eyed him and turned him into a character in some beyond-trenchcoat suspense thriller spanning the Organized Universe (Not the rival streetgang the Berkeley Chaotists)
The teddy bear and other child-directive phenomena. Pregnancy in the purest…immanence as the newborn to be shaped…encapsulateded…made to become
the mechanisms for feeding back are not
(necessarily) known by the mechanisms responsible for the feedback
beyond the happy homemaker-dirty home syndrome
beyond the gates of Hercules (something catching at the edges of awareness about the effect of sleep deprivation)
All of this comes running at my mind. And Out Came… (Virulent, in its very nature to transcend whatever form given it. Incapable of boredom in a reality so complex that only its outer fringes need ever come in contact; the interface between human and cockroach. But this assumes a creative consciousness as a director, since undirected it literally forms a cancer)…
How much structure? enoughtoomuch we areareareare beyond the sense of power-in-motion, power-in-creation into
the power-in-awareness of.
Creativity (and here the problem is to say enough and not get caught with the finger on the scales) comes, when it comes, if it comes, only as the result of some serious work at understanding one's presumptive/physical universe. "…well, you see, I sorta feel like I've been separated from reality by a specific displacement along the axes of time and space…"
true creativity and the mind feels (or at least thinks it feels) like it's in tune with that convoluting spastic mess out there which if you unravel, starts to turn into a World.
It is the eternal diversity of entiteification and recombination that produces the "infinite plane" of the
When you come to this dharma, and see the meaning of mind in the meaning of meaning, of the the process of being-born and sustained above, the poetry of opposition, creation interfacing back down into web-woven synthesis… Spanning this sea are words. Creation-separations. Identity assertions. Now back to our programmmmmmmm drowning down to powerout point and mirror-darkness.
Each, one chaotic frame, One.
When you've taken all the, oh, Art out of it, what you have is sunday-afternoon raining in Syracuse reality. Which, is pretty much where we are…
I'm here to say annoying things that are difficult to understand.
I'm a writer.
Note that the medium is the message. Paper. Consciousness forced into linearity begets consciousness forced into linearity until the streets are ankle-deep in suffering linear consciousness.
The medium is the message. People give up hope of achieving the schema-understanding and simply revel in the existent while knowing (hoping?) that one of them mysto black boxes is gonna drop clean out of nowhere and annihilate the whole scene, you dig, so why try and grok it?
A: Our most powerful illusion.
An illusion of desire; suffering.
A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't wanna live there.
Duration is inversely related to energy of creation. Random system noise in brain/dream must be contributed to by sub-atomic interactions all the way down to nothingness.(Trancing…tracking…locking…fixing… gotcha, you bastard, only I've analyzed you out from underneath me…)
I guess you have figured that this is just some wierdo freak on a power trip with an electric typewriter (and how easy that is, isn't it?) But no, you're not off the hook that easy you've got some serious thinking to do and I can't do it all for yah, much as I'd like to.
So, thusly prepped, we enter the theatre for some brain [salad] surgery (Literally mind-fucking, casting another being-as-thing, admittedly done for the highest motives but just as surely unregenerate).
Animals may "see" and "hear" but they may not be able to put the two together…requires exchanging info at complex levels w/ environment.
In a class taught by C.I. Lewis (who existed in B&W, or really a rather yellow chroma, never seen a color picture) he asked for a definition of a camel. Some Brad Majors archetype raises hand and specs out a camel. Lewis sez that's not exactly what he's looking for. I volunteer "an interface between camel and non-camel—the only thing we actually perceive—the interface, not the thing itself." Lewis approves. Just then, the Nazis invade. Lewis, I, and the cute girl I was trying to impress manage to escape, jumping down a trellis, thru backalleys and streets of Sartre's Resistance life, into a sub-basement where she holds a marionette in her teeth.
Fade to black.
Just add perceptions…
Phenomenon - the informed perception we are aware of in consciousness.
Phenomenology - studying the contents of awareness regarded as such.
Noumenon - the thing-in-itself (Ding an Sich) which we suppose exists on the other side of our perceptions.
The Given - in Lewis, the pure sensuous datum, devoid of interpretation.
The a priori - those aspects of interpretation which cannot be derived from experience, and hence, must be prior to it. e.g., Kant's Space Time.
Intentionality - consciousness is always consciousnes of something.
Noetic - the way you are aware.
Noema - experience regarded as of the objectively real; viz: A dream is a false noema, but a wakeful noesis.
"Entertain, Inform, Persuade."
—TVR 135, purposes of Comm.
"Child, Adult, Parent."
I'm writing this book. It's about this kid who's writing a book about this kid who has this dream of writing a book and hasn't got out of the chapter about the kid having a dream about writing a book.
I get this far, sit there, feeling like an atom in a rock or an air molecule, sorry for myself, probably legally drunk, staying away from mirrors.
And, I say to myself: that's one sentence to cut.
The conditions for knowledge always include some claim on the future, some verification test, the result of which will confirm or disconfirm our belief. (I'm sounding like Lewis here) This may not be much, but it's all we have.
The reality must always be just a little more complex than the model, or the model would be reality. But.
If everything is 'just' vortices of increasing entropy sucking at the heaped up
anti-entropic 'beings' … what ethical duty does that create for us?
What responsibility to our entropy-selves down the line? And how could we stop entropy short of statifying the universe?
There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Association
Reality is sort of like all-news radio. Low spot ratings, but high cumulative numbers. There are, after all, still things out there that can kill us.
Platonic, static essences v. existential, dynamic/on-the-fly essences; pushed beyond category into FULL POSITIVITY
The Captain from Dylan's Changing of the Guard…Captain Prentice? "prepare for elimination" -- the Counterforce?
And the frame freezes on the deserted Criminologist's office. "Meaning…"
:whimsiest, elastic lines
Footsteps on the IRT
and the Mushroom Cloud.
There would be words for it.
It would be between
and it would be
the end of everything
that had gone before
an apocalypse devoid
of symbolic meaning.
cut thick enough, at last, to see.
(Or is that just soap on the window?)
It's time to write your own novel, to become a 3-dimensional character. Here we are in
TULSA of all places. These people-we-am become stars. We are
all stagehands supporting a star. Remember when you were young? That look in your eyes
is entropy, Roger.
The art of borrowing and restating is crucial. The harder it is to say, the more important to say it. [information theory and the banality of sitcoms] PURE NIHILISM (writ big) Stop worrying; this too will pass.
And you (whoever the self is who reads this) and I (the self who wrote it) matter no more in the scheme of things than the atoms we are constructed of. Or any less.
Figure out where consciousness is tending and devise a plan of approach.
MENACE…the hollow One…steam in the arteries of steel. Once a month, a magazine called "Death" or "Process" depending on your POV.
What are they involved in? H & B's escape karma locks them into a reality/control situation. Not Hajek's initial intent. The passive captives can explore possibilities more objectively because of their tangential approach, because they are more stable in 4-space.
"equals" = "now and forever the same"
I don't know…know I…know…
Something is Known - there is something there to be known. Knowledge takes an object. Dualism.
Mysticism One thing(doing) ( ) everything. One particle ONE superparticle always and forever part of both sides of every argument, every catalust, every re-agent, every action.
Step by step increments beginning to see a reality so much bigger than the macroscopic world that it's positively frightening.
You can meditate, you can transcend the given, but only if the right inputs are used to construct the meta-pattern will you get an ontically valid result.
Turning up the torque until the pressure in my eyeballs is a million megabars and my mouth tastes like fuzzy stainless steel. We ask people to kill us every day, and yet we're still here.
If only they knew who was driving through,tired beyond Belief, existing Essentially only in Print (cause we do, only in the written word, the pre-pared speech do we REALLY exist…
"Is it gonna matter? Are people gonna READ it? Or am I just another…"
"Well," he says, "You better write something so that they can at least IGNORE it.")
"Just keeping it together for the group" [knot in the notebook]
Not that insects make me nervous…but…hell…this is INDOORS. And we've got a
seriously HIGH CRITTER CONTENT dot dot dot…jeez…seems like we took a twelve hour
dose of speed…immediately after waking up from twelve hours of sleep. WE'RE fucking
CRISPY…time for more rum…Breakfast of The Doomed.
jeez…if you thought that was crispy, wait until the next night, when we're Convinced we have pneumonia and believe we're going numb and dying…and actually wake up screaming, and flick on the light…flexing our asleep finger, thinking that it's been PARALYZED for good.
"If I really thought there was anything after this, I'd kill myself."
Meanwhile, on Planet Calvary "Hi! I'm going to decimate your ecosystem but first I'd like to tell you abut this remarkable TV offer…"
Yes, and you'll watch yourself, 30 years from now, walking down TV memory lane…
jesus i get depressed when i watch this fucking machine right now i couldn't summon up the healing energy to wet a postage stamp if only I'd gotten into Alpha Epsilon Rho, none of this would have happened. Aw, perhaps that's for the best…AERho has been having really DULL speakers lately…
May have to find a cave/or another place/that's safe/someplace Out Of Town (rpt)
It wasn't until Pam Fisher ran into trouble in New York that she found out about Charlie.
It wasn't until Pam Fisher ran afoul of Vortex New York that she found out about Charlie.
It wasn't until Pam Fisher ran afoul of Vortex New York that she destroyed Times Square.
If Pam Fisher hadn't rolled over Vortex New York she would never have destroyed Times Square.
(Thanks to Gerald Cambrensis for permission to reprint the cover from the "Amerika" issue of Vortex. Cover art by Mu.)
"I want to fill every socket with light before I leave." -Mu
When one thinks of the human mind "containing" the universe in some way…triviality ignored…connections become obvious&necessary…and the ONEness much adhered to and lamented becomes a "given" and, as given, is not the object of Consciousness, not the Mission Itself…not the Forever Hunger…but merely domestic unhappiness…although what will fill its position is as yet unclear.
Title "No Dial Logic" (It is a true statement that I cannot consistently maintain the truth of this sentence)
The Biscuit Division
Viable teeth. Paranoid fnordtasy #38…this is just music therapy…we get out our anxiety with axes…all we do is produce self indulgent garbage (trust in the flow is what keeps you from cutting yourself down when you get to feeling like you have a handle on what the fuck is going on)
Charlie the Machine being the organic process which calls us (souls) out of the Flux and presses us into flesh (the héxis) "I EXIST! Say, shit. I exist. This SUCKS."
Charlie being DNA? Godware? Subjective experience of dreamed/microcritters subjective experience?
audio bg: anonymous fiddle music
V.O. "Hey…who's got the white subcompact with AE-35 plates? You left your remote manipulator arm extended."
"Hey, Hal, gimme a beer."
"Sorry, Dave. Not if you're drivin'."
"Hey. What is this shit?"
"Sorry Dave. Lemme call you a taxi."
"Hal, gimme a goddamned beer."
"You… fuck. Now you know I c'n just go 'round the corner to the state store and get me a six for the road…"
"In your condition, Dave? I'm not sure you'll make it to the corner."
Why call us forth from Nothingness if we only have to go back in the end?
personalities=dream characters=chem/existential currents in the stream of time. Any time they accidentally recognize themselves, it's always such a nice surprise! That we got up, occasionally, plunging headlong out of nowhere into nowhere, and managed to interesect for a few moments, a few brief breathings in or out…what a rare and strange thing.
FIELD OF BEING
I and NOT I
(I & ¬I) ≡ (A & ¬A)
Recognizing yourself in two succesive instants is the same problem.
Full tilt into the woemills
A prof demonstrating a Big pendulum to a group of undergraduates—calmly holding next to head, allowing it to swing to the far wall and back, talking the entire time. "The first law of Thermodynamics says that…" Thing puts his head through the wall. This is the signature of the onset of…
Bill I'd like to get NEH funding to database the Warren Report and just let FRED chug away at it…
(serious) You want to come home some night and find Carrie's head in the oven, buddy? Just can that shit…
BILL So basically the Shannon equation—as we'll come to call it—predicts that through a supersymmetric translation we can produce a beam of coherent gravitation or antigravitation.
BILL Does that mean star travel, or does that mean a weapon that could literally blow the sun apart?
JOSEF I guess that depends.
JOSEF On who does the funding.
"What could be better," he said, "than lying in a bathtub in Syracuse, drinking Genesee Cream Ale, and writing about metaphysics?"
Are we S→R'd to like/respect books, esp. school books? smell? feel? memories fear? (sez The Prince)
International Center for Theoretical Physics, Trieste, Italy, 5-11 July. The Second Marcel Grossman Meeting on the recent developments in General Relativity
What could she have meant when she said: "Now who do you think 'Precious Angel' was really about?"
Creates the Universe
When they are born
Destroys the Universe
When they die
I can still smell
a bottle of tempera paint
I played with
And it is all I need
to keep me sane
for a while.
Life is like a novel, limited, pushing against its covers, trying to escape into the immortality of someone's mind…
Even this, that you read, this too is improper, an attempt at colonization of other flesh, other mind, through the flesh made word, blood uttered back to wine, and pretzels, and bar conversation, and eventual darkness.AND THAT'S WHEN HE SHOT HIMSELF!
(no, that time he just got too lazy to write small.)
Art is making the world explicit.
(Maintain your illumination you insane aperiodic crystalline structures) Gravity is god.
A buzzing, hovering, like memory bees. Where is She tonight? Where are any of us. Those that knew her, those that thought we knew each other…what sudden fall have we come to? To be what one is, right now, to be what one feels, what one is… this is so difficult. Does she find it so?
Sleeping somewhere I'll never know, feeling the touch of someone through the dark… Even the Quality of that darkness, the tiny glittering fragments in the air, the silence between, beyond words, lines of force stretched elastic until they spill virtual flavor. Heart-stopping fear into rapt tension. Beyond walls now…
"NO! PUT ME BACK!" -the first thought
"We lost the tape of the Village."
Frigidaire We have taken leave of our senses.
[Distinctly] You got RID of them.
Tim Leary, in The Politics of Ecstasy, sez that what we usually call love is nothing more than emotional greed and gluttony based on fear.
"Form is illusion."
"Aha! So it's YOU, Lord Maya…"
"Form is illusion? Shit…I always thought form was function. There goes my A on THAT test…"
Sing of her now…
with the birds
and the thunderstorms,
and the fabric of
do we need to be?
We don't know where she is,
nor could I tell you
how to ever find out.
It's best that way
her probability curve is infinite
she can be all places
and all things,
so that no worship is idle.
Ever since I discovered elipses, my life if not my text has been complete. I can actually forward pass the train of thought, from concept to concept, character to character, shifting vision as required…
And shit, it's easier than writing sentences….
"We play punk because old people mostly die and we're not interested in impressing them."
Frigidaire at Colonus
w/of course, King Freon
Monster models and books and fanaticism for paper products
You want an identity problem? My fucken lower jaw is an identity problem. Argh. Renal norming…uh… morning after the grapeout. Spectrum addicts. Whole, juice, jelly, and wine. "My wife," sez Mr. Alexander, "Liked wine." ~Jackwork Orangeman
|D||Duir||Oak||→ Delta (δ)|
Leaves as the cipher-letters in the secret Druid alphabet
Things to do:
–Endure the Eternities of the Circle of Infinity.
–Participate in every state of existence without changing. –Reform and renovate everything without changing it.
–The Druid Handbook
Just swapping belief sets. Taliesin, archetypal transformational poet (Mabinogion: Tale of Gwion Bach, as well as the Cad Goddeau) is really the personification of the act of poetry itself transforming the mute beingness of the Universe.
(They must have been thinking of me when they made a machine with all these flavor crystals in it!)
|21||Kaph||20||Jupiter||X||Wheel of Fortune|
|23||Mem||40||Water||XII||The Hanged Man|
The Holy one, blessed be, the ein sof, (without limit) created Kether, the Source or fountain of light. Then he shaped the Fountain of wisdom (Chokma) and the Sea of Understanding (Binah) filled from his essence. Finally, he created the seven vessels, or streams.
The Ain Soph=The Tao=the vacuum pressure of space; the potential for particle creation. The 10-demonsional space "below" organized in center-margin relationships, or as shells surrounding an inner radiance. And, as above, so below.
Spirit in body in world in the perfect shells of heaven. Animal soul (nefesh) gives rise to Spirit (ruah) and finally the divine emanation, or supersoul (neshamah) which "returns to the sky."
If karma yoga is the best we can hope for? What's the use. It's the green heat of East Main Road, an early 60's summer afternoon…slow traffic…faces overlit, indistinct…the cool shade of the church…perhaps mumbled prayers from the open doors, papery and electronic through cheap speakers…the introduction to microphones, to public speaking, to standing up in front of to proclaim rightness. "You know the truth! Here's a mike!"
If the messiah came, why do we still suffer? Because all he did was say, "Hey, suffering. Dig it." And what's a messiah, anyway? We got science. Science that begins in wonder and ends in cynicism. The universe, looking at itself, twitching toward Bettleheim, bleeding out in the back of a cop car, famous and dead.
Yes, impossible behavior is my specialty.
Dream: "Death Circus," a 1913 plague time-altered co:earth where the 'circus is in town' means to be expected to die. Charlton Heston was the ringmaster w/a pearl handled .44 to finish you off if you didn't quite manage it…and…the Funhouse Police.
"You can make little pieces out of big pieces, but you can't make big pieces out of little pieces."
"You can if you're stupid."
Plastermind. Terror grows.
death image…must see him as a Santa Claus…schools…reaching the young Psis with "the Music?" –the scn of banquet absorbtion. "Check it out, check it out" –the 3-card montage man.
Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess. Corollary:
Moderation in all things…especially moderation.
Lady and the Tiger. Bucket 'o' plex. Big Money Guys w/hard suits and soft contacts waiting outside, taking souls still quivering, unset, uncertain, hopeful into the black/green shielding of security, of routine, of the sterility of work.
Hey, don't you EVER finish a sentence?
No. The definition of sentences…ideas, all ideas, all temporal (subject, verb, object) solutions (pornographies) are part of the (now that we've got our glasses ON we can finally see) quintessential problem.
Which is Death.
And the thought that a riff can make a difference…
Statifying the universe is no solution to entropy. The pinball analogy: the ball may not go down, but you don't score any points, either. Need some way to jump out of the system. Joots.
Fucking beached. 4:30 Sunday morning…Wylie backed over (yes, incredible) her muffler and tailpipe-and busted it off at the manifold…sounded like the Enola Gay coming back on 81…aside from that, Mrs.Lincoln…our amp wasn't cutting thru—fine with me—that crowd scared me…drunk CNY rednex ("Play Another Brick in the Wall!") who would tear a limp rod rancher like myself to pieces in seconds. Another "Fear In Your Ear" concept? Neo-nazi big belly beerdrinkers lurking by the keg.
Value is the inverse of probability. …and that's how they found him, sitting in the dusty spiderwebbed kitchen, collapsed over his typewriter
Okay. Disappeared. Now we're gonna be quiet, and we're not gonna scream, but we're gonna find out. And we ain't never gonna forget who did it.
You don't have to imitate what you're not afraid of.
The illusion of excitement (the excitement of illusion) of a world where people do interesting things. Where people, whether happy or not, are at least involved in something. This is novelic reality.
People are 4-space. Good people are 4-Space.
"It is interesting to note that…"
"Professor. You are perhaps the only person to whom, or for whom it would be interesting to note that. And your mind is already closed on the subject."
Hey! People write lucidly to make up for a lack in content. & the converse.
Believe the Lie?
First reactions suppressed, first reactions regretted, first reactions too close to Home, too Scary-Right. You didn't even want to Think about it… a…Stalking…as much within your mind as by design: not conventional.
An empathy, a "how can we do without" spreads to the country for a short time…then they realize they have been, and they can, and so they do, and by next Thursday no one knows who the deceased is.
"You could be a great florist if you don't sell out to the Consortium…"
Pregnancy in its purest…capturing "self's" again.
Paranoia is denial of the harshness, the stupidity, the violent anger of reality. But it is, it is.
Not him…no. But others like him. Other figures moving through that early morning were hunting. People with clean clothes and strange accents knocking on doors in this rural community. They want Herkimer and the child. But they are nowhere.
One thing is clear.
cloud/starscreen generator (Earth history)
"You are an operating liability"
imitating blindly/operating blindly
-> The Fall of Odysseus
Entropean Hysteri, sis.
The Real Winston Smith, in "The Religions of Man," sez something like no matter how you try to get to god, you discover god coming right at you. Doesn't cost more to paint the numbers on every god, eh?
Coursing: exiting oneself in going… the parable of the raft/energy creates virtual particles to cross space… raft="yana" (lit.ferry) cf. Bester's yantras in "Stars My Destination"
What is the sound of one hand clapping?
It is the sound of one hand clapping.
And do you know your Buddha nature through the sound of one hand clapping?
I don't think so. (Sorry, Bodhisattva)
-D-D-D-D-Dead, Mu & Art
(People don't speak in brackets.) [But they Do! Brackets out of reality: all learning and saying is bracketing of reality.]
When and where did They start looking at Time as the Fourth Dimension? Ouspensky? Minkowsky? Huh?
Human mind as 4-D energy trap;
infinite regression, blackhole…
"You know about lines of force?"
"Lines of force? The things they have around magnets, like?"
"Well, some of 'em come out of one end of the magnet an' get sucked around into the other end."
"Some of 'em don't. They escape to infinity."
"No one knows what happens to them. They just keep goin'."
"Hey. My little toes keep fallin asleep. It's fucken cold out here!"
"Sorry, sir, we're only responsible for translation and recording of emotion-states, ah, copy?" SPZZT
"Ah, sorry, sir, we ah…don't handle feedback from the decider beacons, sir, we just synapse to them. I can connect you to Input." BZZ…SCHPREECH
"Do that." SKRAK
"Okay. You're live. Oscillate."
"It's cold out here."
"What? Who's giving me old news?"
"Stop mouthing off, you subroutine punk, this is holistic consciousness speaking, and I'm contemplating genocide for all uppity fucking neurons if I don't get some fucking respect!"
We came to test your gods. We were down in the basement till 7 a.m. scouring for leads; for hotwires running sand-buried back through the beginnings into the time "I Can Know Nothing About"…child as microcosm of the universe -- and the Big Bang.
a quark among the downtown powerlines…
cross section of despair
amid the worldline
the aggregate you are
defy the "flow"
provide the "flow"
and become one with the flow
of Articulated Being
Entropy alarms. Entropy and gravity as fictitious forces to explain the field trip of the Cosmos. Our Universe, the White Hole.
Hilbert Space. A hyperdimensional surface constantly eating and regurgitating itself…I felt as if I were having a nosebleed after I wrote that one…the swarming sensation was that bad…
when is a black hole?
A magnet so tight that none of the field lines escape…?
Suppose all we're doing is disspating?
Tony from the Laundromat
Fuck, man, I wanna dissipate in style.
What is god/dess for a culture? What should people be approaching? How about some different ones. Not this auto-mechanic messiah crap. Goddesses of process, of peace, of participation. How long ago, how long agon. We North Jersey gods Put Our Will Upon The Flow and make Vicious Decisions.
Ellison and Van Vogt's story about Ship. Vicious=smarter.
Asymptotal: 99.99…percent of your minimum daily requirement
"You carry too much in your head and put too little on paper."
They made the labels so that if you stared at them stoned, they messed up your braincells. It was very profitable and only four people lost their lives. They gave the rest Newspapers to read of the disasters, to make their little disasters seem very unessentially disaster.
Brain damage? Oh, that's heavy. We don't ever use them, but we know what they are. I heard on the radio said that you only use about a tenth of your brain. Think of how much they're wasting.
"You pick ugly fish" -Mu
twisted paths…Window on the Wind
"staying conscious at all times so you can take advantage of the Thermostat" monster equivalency diploma…Strange Gravy…Air Cargo Fairytales…Generic Evil. fantasy culture…fantasy allure… fantasy closure. People putting in carpeting themselves to Imitate the Rich (Enact the Paradigm!): "People who can REALLY afford Wall to Wall don't fuck around with kickers." Tag-Team Terror…inorganic fun…
Sacrifice me to
the pagan goddess, thinly covered
with spectral moss
Formica, madness, dancing.
Grissom, Chaffee, White…
Tools never logged out.
6:31:19.4 EST Jan 27:
6:31:22…onboard data off
RS89 (the Corrosive Inhibitor…)
the hatch that couldn't open,
at more than 17 newtons.
6:31:30 one suit breached…
failed on the ground.
Could Jack have kept them
The fourth line of
"The Battle of the Trees"
in, of course,
The kettle of Ceridwen as the wiccan paradigm of World as roiling cauldron
Stuff can mean a lot to you and also be bad poetry. The line between obscurity and meaning is rather easily crossed, often without realizing or quite intending to, leaving an annoying gap in your poem where the guts used to be. The more faith you have in tools and technique, the further you go into metabolic acidosis
Someone's playing "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" on a cheap recorder…watching the sun break through the clouds over the smokestack next to the bus station remembering that morning five years ago in Grand Central's echo-chamber, thinking about the ultimate hack goodbye. Raucous squealing of tires on curb…a businessman in a red Corvette watches as we round the corner, past dumpsters, oil tanks, backs of garages with broken windows spray painted "Shit" and "Fuck you," benches and broken rock by the side of I690. When was the first time I was on that? Not frantic…just relaxed and happy to be going…there was a bad moment of doubt right at the door to my room, but sheer inertia, Jack, and that "Just get going and we'll see," did, and do.
Readin science fiction on the IRT waitin for my stop to come…
I live in an apartment
on the 99th subbasement of my block
I look out th window babe
It's solid rock
Well in comes this asshole
dressed up like a western movie star
Says "Hey boy, you wanna go to
Europe and fight in a
tactical nuclear war?"
Get outta my face
(And don't put no warheads
up in space…)
A working miracle: Friday afternoon.
(all those people went to hell so the Italian sailors could sell fish)
"Dare to be similar!"-Mu
Any experience pushed to its extreme yields enlightenment. (Corollary of Dr. Benway's "cookdown" theory)…the individual encapsulates the act of creation; the totality of the universe as process, within a microcosm of this process itself, in some particular state of evolution (life revolving around stars as opposed to some other)…
What definition then of life? This process of enfolding? The endless reinvesting of energy? the process of writing is a continuation of the enfolding of life in the universe into the metaphors of fiction (or, well, true consciousness-artist writing)
Time. Transeutem et non reverteum.
Carbon, released from the
intransigence of stone,
bubbles up through
inherent in the system.
Crowley and Owsley padding
down cognate hallways…
Ego sum; nolite timorae.
Jackal: god of
Isis: wife and sister of Osiris…helped restore him to life. Each Egyptian wished to defeat death by identifying with Osiris. The dead were referred to as "Osiris so-and-so"
Ra: The Sun-god
Thoth: God of the moon…and writing.
Anubis: God of embalming.
Osiris chopped into little pieces, floated down Nile…Isis goes around gathering the fallen sparks, fragments of vessels shattered (no, that's something else…or is it?) A mystic unity to Egyptian/Kabbalist/Neotechnic reality-symbols? Ditto for Orpheus & the Floating Head Game. Heiros gamos. Someday, you will remember…
Vladimir Zworykin, born Russia, July 30 1889. Developed the "iconoscope," the precursor of the modern television tube in 1924. Developed one of the earliest color TV schemes 1925. Also made significant advances in electron microscopy in the late '30s.
Without people like this, we'd be sitting around watching radios. And yet, our culture masks off the Men Behind The Curtain. We know the Oppenheimers, not the Farnsworths, the Armstrongs, the Fessendens, even the Sarnoffs. Young General David, on a department store roof in Union Square, listened to the Titanic sink hundreds of miles away, and heard the future…
When the Sun goes down on the City
"I drove myself insane for you. Show some fucking gratitude." Insanity must be the belief that you understand the Universe as well as it is understood. Objective reality? To be a shaman in ameriKa is to be insane. cf. Altered States — Jessup confronting the woman whose heart is being touched by Christ. The Vacuum of Disbelief, or does he just envy her ability to hallucinate. You decide.
"No one ever said the answer was unique." –A koan from Calculus
"and all the lunatics sing doot dee doot…"
To: Art Newkirk, CEO
From: Dr. H.H. Holme, Ψbiology
Re: Project Postman
Our representative in Basel has released the
organism. According to current projections, world population should stabilize at Å10^4
within the fiscal year. The Dolphins have begun making payments.
Our Philosophy division has been hard at work on the pope's Christmas message. The three key points:
1) It doesn't matter
2) No one cares
3) It doesn't matter that no one cares
Full text to follow.
They are all the same novel.
In the SF…
In the Mystery…
In the Actioner…
In the Romance…
In the Horror…
In the Faux Lit…
In the Teen…
In the Existential…
In the Comedy…
In the Drama…
In the Tragedy…
In the Fairytale…
(Fill in the blanx; you know the drill)
Can I please go back to where I go when I go to sleep now?
Can a purposeless object…like the cosmos…non-teleological…be creative? Why are stars represented with points?
Primitivism is an approach, not a discipline…within 10 years, waffles will be extinct. If you want to follow the messiah, you've got to play(Tommy) pinball…videogames…children…program- ming. Electronic culture creating itself. To get a clear picture, you must move with the object, or use a high shutter speed. Static image, or blur.. Uncertainty applies to ideas…"To understand is to become."
There is no joy in Drugville…
"Fuck me. What am I, an Alien?"
The blue hooded figures
aren't really there.
"We're the Pros from Dover, and we're here to cover this event…until they catch us." Hard Knowledge self-made dog. The phenomenon of meaning—What is it that makes meaning? "Places that we once called home but never can return to again." –"My Dinner With Trister," Vox/Mu
Let's read Spanky's Book of Evil Magic. Page 21: Disposal of Genies…
More than 60 whales were killed in the Falklands War, bomb disruption of sense/location.
"They'd finally caught up with Cinderella, and there was nothing left but slipper fever." –The Film Noir Dick. It must be the chablis, but ah, how it feels like old times again, watching late night tv in-to-it-ing yourself as the totem rockstar and listening to "The Wall." Statues and long tracking shots with credits over them…brief (four hour) loss of the ability to type… cartoons, ah, it's morning. We've survived. A baallpoint penguin. Metalanguage:Impossible. "True is false."–Paganini, from the chimney.
—Mu and Art
"My own BOOM SHOT!" boom and zoom (semiotics) "the show's over"
drink her wine & give her Jesus
& a white rose
"Kann bin den Helden!" -Al Haig
1960's/Dylan: everyone wanted to be a stochastic multidimensional genius. 1980's/Now everyone wants to be a cynical, self-actualized comedian.
"Living hell is the best revenge."
"Washing your leg is just like washing your leg."
"Is art a retreat from reality?"
Ah, hell, I can't answer a question lahk that. I can't tell what ree-ality IS, or even if there IS any. How long has this party been going on?"
The lonely ones…the strangers camped along roadsides in beatup chevys from the flower decade…confronted, abysmal, with
THE ABSOLUTELY UNREMARKABLE
Further down toward the evil nexus of the City.
"You see someone…in a subway car, or playing the oboe in a symphony on PBS..and fall in love deeply, instantly. With the flexible albedo of their skin, that dark interiority of their eyes. You live out an entire affair, first contact to tragedy in a picosecond, an expanding wavefront through your brain from the center of impact. If you're not lucky, you'll keep getting on the same train, or the director will keep calling that shot…and fatigue falls in, like light and death. And they are just another commuter, or musician…and you'll begin to wonder what you ever saw…"
Now suppose that this had some way, besides the way it does, of happening? Sketchbook stuff is only shadows on the wall…
death threats beckon
after the harbor there's
nothing but ocean
and clear skies
to remind you
Yes, that was the phone call I was expecting…but I didn't know it wasn't for me: yet.
I held this piece of paper in my hand, and suddenly I was Winston Smith, and history revolved around in my head as I struggled to believe I was seeing it.
Like the dreams I sometimes have of having died in that car crash in Tully.
Mu, motorheading down the hill from his house, wet road, and suddenly, there's this Oak
Tree; a swerve, and I remember closing my eyes as tightly as possible, thinking,
"Glass!" And then there was this
of light, a phosphene flare
it wasn't for me…yet.
"Just the Other Day…"
There were little purple circles on the backs of the fingers where the phalanges had come through the skin.
They had done a good job, but it was obvious that the mandible had been completely shattered and wired back together guided by statistics, a museum job on homo ludens.
And we stood around the fresh wet grave, tossing in pink carnations, and awaiting the arrival of The Radio Control Priest.
Why do I remember this?
Perhaps I have no choice.
Perhaps it happened.
Special and General Relatives.
Lines of communication were hopelessly scrambled. "Let me go down as an oak tree felled by a woodcutter's axe." –our old pal Sarpedon. A three-synapse family. Clockwork Metaphor. All we can ever hope for is to escape into the immortality of someone else's mind. "Fascist scum!" –response to a WLNE editorial. The critter grows.
No matter how many millenia i spend as a problem child having my pencil sharpened in a sidelit morning reality, I always end up crucified on an alcohol cross. Tuff dharma, buddy journalists, Death is everything.
Art predicts the future.
Lady, does this come in Xtra-Large?
Lady, what's the limit on my charge?
Lady do you take American Express?
Oooh, aahh, my credit rating's such a mess…
Hey now shoppers, shoppers, don't you fret.
The Lady's gonna take off the hangers and tags,
Pack all your goodies in big shopping bags,
The Lady'll make sure that you have all you need,
She never acts like you're drooling with greed,
She knows you want it—and you want it all…
Oooh, ooh. Of course the Lady'll help you shop in the Mall.
We don't need no funky bistros.
We don't need no downtown crime.
No potholed backstreets choked with
No movie houses filled with urban
We want to shop where there's no
sense of Time.
Wall to wall it's just
another store in the Mall.
If you should go shopping
in the hot mix of a modern mall
dragging behind you
a big bag of crap
to validate your life…
—Brandon J. Edmonds,
Mu, and Art
The Automatic 12
The overpass moves by, the view beyond now occluded by trees and slope. Spray graffitti: "Indulge the Spirit" "Fuck" (Hot, under the tongue consonants.) "It's only Consciousness, f'r chrissake, it's not like it's imPORTant or anything, ya know." An expression of Perfect Freedom. I think I like that. I had casts on all through childhood, they cut them off at puberty. SUch a reckless kid.
is there a pre-linguistic self?
what really happened at Eleusis?
was Soma amanita muscaria?
how bad was St. Anthony's Fire?
did Mayan culture have a psychoactive substrate?
why are sedative-hypnotics and stimulants acceptable in the West
but not other classes of psychoactives?
don't try this at home.
the reverseDNA model of mind/personality: you try and construct yourself as something you may be susceptible to…a working definition of government
hungry people tell "hungry" stories—and there are all kinds of Hungers
1) shadows exist in slightly different spacetime past the object that cuts them; 4-D Stencils on a beam of light
2) mirrors transmit darkness
3) consciousness is an epiphenomenon
4) process and object=yin and yang
5) theories tested(texted) in macroscopic space, while being useful, are relativistically and quantum-ly bogus
6) the given-ness of the universe implies tachyon communication (see Bell's inequality)
Bridges; caissons as a metaphor of outer space. The technology is never ready for the genius, but without forced application, it would never be ready.
How did Roebling survive the bends?
(Wives say 'Thank you' for their husbands..)
¡Sandino vive en el pueblo!
Rock and Rule. the Hand that Rocks…This is the Hand…Coming this fall on CBS. The
Young Americans. One Woman. One Blank. One with a gun. Americans have helicopters and
hug. Fucking windowheads. The Notre Dame fight song in a minor key. The hair
fibrillating in the lower middle-left part of the frame.
"You can call me darling"
I was value programmed in Waco, Texas, I can't tell the difference between light and dark. "Are you coming, or do I have to shoot you?"
El Signo de Sumer:"That was the last drop I had."
"Knute Rockne invented the forward pass & saved football from oblivion."
In hoc signo, vince lombardi: "I don't care what I am, I am."
This is where the thing fails.
Madness at the lights, those crowded lights. Earth=Death. Belief in salvation is the
ultimate obscenity. Performance is crucifixion. Mustn't there be a certain Order?
Freudian sleep…"I can't take this seriously…" "Let ME try some of that glue…"
Who's afraid of Virginia Beach? Dead Air. Twisted Wreckage. The Deadly Wingéd Claw (circa 6 BCE)—I can tell it looked better in the script.
"Glory be to Steel!" -motto of the Grange. Silicon 14, Carbon 12. And in the National League…The natural goodness of tractors. We become more interested in the scheme than the perceived Reality.
Prophets of the Machine.
Existence precedes breakfast.
Techno/logic/ally…matter, energy, cannot face into this tachyon wind without absorbing
energy, conforming, turning along lines of least resistance. Presenting a solid
wall…even energy. Everything but you. Mind.
Mind is Not. It's a nothingness that depends on being, but it is not Being. It is precisely Not-Being-not Not Being. Like a window. When mind is Being, that window is closed, all you can do is feel drafts coming around the edges…dreams, precognition, synchronicity…but when that window is open…
Fan blades slowly rotating w/o power.
I'm a barbarian…you said so yourself.
The first moment of waking consciousness; discovery of not-aloneness. Dreams: organic reality we had to call upon myths to explain, ooh, like guns, or "sharp swords in the hands of young lunatics," eh, Thrasymachus?
You said I'm a barbarian so…yourself.
"Master," asked the novice, "What is the Buddha-nature of a highway?"
"Bikkhu," replied the master, "Stand by the highway and watch."
The novice did this, and returned. "I have stood by the highway and not seen its Buddha nature. Is the fault mine?"
"No," said the Master. "Now you must take a journey along this highway."
This the novice did, travelling from Maine to Florida.(Yes, DisneyWorldª.)
"Master, I journeyed the highway and still do not know its Buddha-nature."
"Bikkhu, I have told you to do these things to show you the reality of the highway. To find its Buddha-nature, you must stay at home and not wish to be on the highway."
This the novice did, and was immediately enlighted.
"…and some other kid will sit in their kitchen, some summer Sunday, sipping lemondade, wishing it was a beer, hearing their father cut the lawn, and fantasizing that they are me, on the radio, slamming the guitar around at the end of Orbital Chase."
My own music has become subconscious. There is no way for me to hear it objectively…or even as I plan it to be heard… difficulty… objectivity is the aegis of the scientist. People are driven to become artists because they cannot communicate with their parents. Finally, if they find someone to communicate with -- their audience -- they are rendered infertile.
"Aliens? From space? What a unique idea!" —Charles Platt on E.T.
Communication preceeds culture. cf. Kent Flannery, "The Cultural Evolution of Civilizations," Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics, 1972.
The limit is the lincoln. The lincoln is mind. The 1850s are the breakout point, past that, the corporations and conglomerates, keying in on the electronic implosion and reversal, make it impossible to control the system just at the point where such control becomes possible.
Crime is so necessary to the specialist function of cities, that if it didn't exist, we'd create it.
"Airports just happen to be flat."
The staff of SS-100-X
Driver & Radio
The Staff of SS-679-X "Halfback"
60°55'N 101°47'E 00h 17m 11s GMT
30 June 1908
Requiem for the Beast, UA, 1992.
Third remake of King Kong. (The second was 'The Lost Chimps,' Spielberg/Lucas 1987, script by Lawrence Kasdan.) Director: Stanley Kubrick Screenplay: Thomas Pynchon. What had been necessity in I (The subway, introduced to prevent a 13 reeler) becomes a major theme, Kong & the MagLev…
Commandments 5000; a cine-poem
ls: People strapped in chairs, gagged.
pan: Wallscreens displaying commandments.
cu: Commandment 4203: Display not thy satanic genitals in public.
cu: Commandment 4204: Look not on the satanic filth of thy own genitals.
ms: Two people, a man and a woman, looking at each other from chairs.
cu: Man, moving eyes.
cu: Woman, moving eyes in response.
cu: Man, a smile under his mask.
ms: a door opens in one of the screens.
cu: a Leader stands in the doorway
ecu: Leader -- "We've found another commandment!"
cu: Commandment 5000: Close your eyes.
ms: People all close their eyes.
Per ardua ad Astrodome.
"The laws of physics forbid a weapon that would do what I want."
If you read it in the right way, it'll make yer flesh crawl right off your back and go hide back of the chair in the porch.
"Today, we are all Jewish."
~Elie Weisel, post "The Day After"
Have you read Spindler's Laws of Chaos? DNA Topoisomerase. "Nature abhors a vacuum." "I hate to vacuum too, but there's all this flesh under the chairs in the porch."
Marshall McLuhan never laid a glove on me.
"Marshall! Marshall! The Indians are attacking the stage!"
"That's all right, Chester. It's just a clash of oral and literate cultures. And by the way, Chester, please say 'Native Americans,' you global village idiot."
Given: hunter-gatherer cultures tend to have goddesses
And Given: electronic technology returns us to the global village and makes us information harvesters
Therefore: Socrates is mortal
Ambivalence short of Domination:
The Penalty for Unauthorized Duplication.
"Sart-er. How do you spell Sart-er. It's on the bulletin board and they say his last name is misspelled…" (pause on the phone) Sart-er. Jean-Paul Sarter. He's an existentialist."
People don't grow up to be maniacs."
"They will this time."
-a discussion about the
impact of technology
"Question Authority!" —the author
"And take good notes…" —the agent
Slow Magic on a bright, cold April day
Nothing left but the weather
And nobody's there but me.
One of those moments
When you are suddenly afraid
You will live forever.
Kick sand in the face of the Universe.."even the nostalgia-ridden reprint is yellowing"…I woke up with blood on my breath…Is it an infectious protein? Prions? What kind of language is this. 880 new cases in Q1 '84, up from 300 last year.
2:20:30 pm "Nothing is accidental…"
2:21 A burst of light…
The International Brotherhood of Dreamsters
Nearer my Fred to Thee…"ya gotta be pretty fucked up to get a tune out of the air conditioner." -Mu on Zevon's Desperados Under the Eaves.
"That which does not kill us…we Eat." —Mu Pointing (at it) for so long that people no longer see the Thing, they only see the Pointer. The Cave. "That which does not kill us…makes us miserable." —Jackie Z. WahlprügelNacht. Bring it to life with Flame!
Staring at a picture of you
travelling through time
If you have a Vision in a dream, is it still a Vision?
Embryology is rigid-Demon's craft,Recursive tooth and claw-
Evolve in a generation, no tissue has Mutation-is Mendel's Law
Language does not provide any way of expressing that which is the content of the
The enigma of "what happens when the lights go out." the sexual unknown, relegated to art and channeled into the enigma storage houses called museums. Blind code BAD elaborated code GOOD! Disconnect penetration of enigma from the drivewheels of power; politicians are respected as Real, base stupid pragmatists. Enigma & Control.
Anniversary poem for Mrs. Keane
Out of the diurnal
the Seven-day Cycle of birth and death
are the things
that make us
"Get shitfaced early and play with a hangover."
-open miker at CBGB's
I got really drunk last night
and cut off all my hair
I put it in a paper bag
and brought it to you
My bag of hair/my bag of hair
It means something to me
it came off my head
and you just put it away
and watch TV
-Bag of Hair
The Best of All Possible Worlds in Collision -Voltairkovsky
To move in 3D necessitates a fourth. Movement through the fourth dimension requires a fifth. Characteristics? Would it produce stereo-reversals? Enantiomorphs? The sphere that travels in flat-four has to ROLL…the consciousness passing through the fifth dimension can only intrude at one point-that is, the moment of awareness…as the rolling sphere touches at one point-this is the Interface between dimensional realities…there is no way for us Beings-in-Time to flatten our sphereness so that we can map onto an "area" of time.
by the movements of a hand
In five dimensions
Point, line, square, cube, mind…
And when The Hand
Must it not posess
The aspect of its dimension?
of a hand
Point, line, square, cube, mind…
when that hand intrudes
must it not
betray the aspect
of its dimension
Roger Mudd's Women…"More terrible than Other Things!"~Josie, "Josie and the Pussycats" "I kind of dug it…until they started clubbing me." -the demonstrator…"what is" is always really "what was" that I just pointed to.
thoughts make words make mind
mind is eye becoming
becoming is thought
the messiah makes
two quick phone calls and the world
can stop turning now
The day on which I begin to understand the quantum mechanical reality which Dr. M. Risin referred to when he asserted that "everything is busted up and boogies." Standing out on the sunporch staring at a Stoneage sunrise blowing up out of the fractured, rippling trees, heavy plate echo on birdsong drifting up the hill. It all came in little Given pieces; I began to see how easy it would be to just fail to allow it to jell, and spend the rest of one's life in a world of raw, painless perceptions.
The harmless plenum of schizophrenia.
The Boutique of the Macabre.
(pron. "boo-te-cue of the mac-a-bree")
"Rub doggie crap behind the ears of those who annoy you!"
"You know that Code means nothing."
"We have to explore the inner realms of the mind, and know how to shoot a good car chase."
Just another blur in the background of a photo captioned "Life in America."
I cleaned my room
I washed my clothes
I trimmed my nails
I lie down and imagine gratification of the most useless sort.
Nothing winks at me
out of moments I had never expected
If I did
I would have never tried
to remember them so diligently.
Come, to think of It
"World Targets in MegaDeaths"
Noisy pictures…brechtfast…there isn't any time to make decisions and things are settled by habit…chinese boxes…Chinese Rooms…
faster than they could possibly
And this is the nature of thought
The existence of a set of words that make you think, upon coming to a word, that it has occurred before in that sequence. (this expresses it poorly)
Slowly light begins to dawn
in long tar ends of alleys walked
in waking moments
from sterile phanomenai (functions)
facing inner night
whose stern occlusion
transfers content stripped of
at the feet of souls
whose pilgrim passage seals
the ebbs and flows
the limits of some mission
culled from myth and matrix
KA v. LOGOS Collect 'em. Trade 'em.
The Spirit and The Word, duking it out in the bubblegum card universe. Which would you rather put in your spokes?
The Monster Group
Superrationality=renormalised gauge-field thinkers. -see Hofstadter!
Imagine a trunk full of sand in a Cadillac. That's how many stars there are in the milky way. Times 100 billion galaxies = 10^22 stars in the universe. (That's a fuckload of stars, in non-metric measure…)
Eratosthenes and the shadow of the stick: Earth MUST have been round, since noon shadows at Alexandria and Syene were different lengths.
bodies being nothing
but tools to hold the mind
in words, in flesh, in time
and when Nothing wants to speak
An explosion of pigeons
It's Sunday morning.
faded victims, drugged hookers, construction workers on overtime
down on all fours with you
of the subway and limosine earth
If only we could put on masks
how much difference that would make
"Sooner or Later"
-The Star, "Some 40's Film"
starships powered by love…why don't dreams induce the same ¿protein synthesis?
¿synaptic linking? a clue! There is no way (short of computer consciousness) to express
how deeply our minds are controlled by our bodies.
NounMaker…"Is time emits I"…can the FACT of experience be questioned? Experience of the world is a special, privileged sort of fact. Might what we are having not be signified by the rigid descriptor, "experience?" Does the fact of experience necessarily presuppose an I? Is Husserl's transcendental reduction valid? Is there pure consciousnes?
What they used to call, in the old analog days, a copy.
the chair saved for the prophet? i've heard THAT one before…Wow! A million dollars worth of dirty socks!
Magnuson's First Law of the Arts:
Budget is directly proportional to fuckups. As funding increases, they take the good stuff out and put a spotlight on the shit.
By the time you can afford an effect or a technology, you have absolutely nothing to say with it.
Message from the Orga(ni)sm
"Rule one: take no prisoners."
"Rule two: No regrets." I throw them a gun. Generally, I shoot them before
they have it off the ground, but it makes everyone FEEL better…"
"But what if they actually shoot you first?"
"Oh, I doubt it. It isn't loaded. I'm no fool, you know…"
The German Atomic Bomb…heavy ice…"They didn't know a funny thing about Krypton 156"…
"Get rid of annoying constraints"
-a mantra from calculus
indebted ongoing broken funtime…sacco's injuries…there appears now a High School
Yearbook…or is it a wedding album…(we've all seen these, haven't we?) with the
same pictures we're seeing Now (and THEY'RE seeing, thunder and image rolling
around in light-seared dreams) with cryptic messages—last words from Before; last
dissonants of the Orchestra tuning, words by their nature predicting, necessitating,
waiting for…WILLING the change, sez Rilke, fading in solemn segue here, owlwinging
down the cheek of the Sphinx, u.s.w.
…and one night, you would just feel it, the insistent tug on one's painsleeve, that is cancer, The Cancer, and to know that Now is now and forever the last Moment Before…
Woke up a roommate. "Emily? Oh. You mean Wylie's's
girlfriend?" Was that the number she left?. Call me back? Why would she want to do
Find self looking down nine stories.
Do better next time?
Go hear Walter Ong.
Ways to counteract the fugitive noetic universe of oral culture: balance, rhythm, rhyme, proverbs. Preserving the evanescent. Objections to writing (like computers): Real Thought Defends Itself. The Platonic world of forms as the analog of the new world of aseptic reason coded up in print. "Most of the reading material in the world is by dead people." "The Hunger of Memory." Your mind begins to work in this new way… ~Father Ong
The monkey skull on the lab bench… If you had a fifty/fifty chance and did nothing…"Preacherthink"
If you can…why NOT?
Visualizing mirrored spheres..and then when it pays off—it works—when you visualize it…
blind, ultimate hatred.
"It wasn't QUITE the last chapter."
The Crowley blasting rod…Black Spears of lightning piercing the body. Remember: It's always dark somewhere…Powering up the Magick Network of the Cosmos
Not to believe
but to make believe
that you believe
on the telephone
for the benefit
of those who
and may believe
felt me coming
back from the
back from the
She did that
to allow herself to focus
"People who have dusty primary guitar cases are not to be trusted fully."
first plane landing dream-a 727 comes down on St. Claire; and
right turns safely onto a Springdale Avenue of the mind-but no plane is there when we
run down to look-kids chasing excitement. Then we're offshore, Humphrey Bogart and I
on a barge of some type, holding a hostage at gunpoint—we had been in the NYC subway,
chased by two "bad/killer" cops—now they appear as salesmen. We shoot them; close in to
their legs; a Shirley MacLaine elevator moment from Sweet Charity:
"Hi. We're your neighbors. Could we talk to you about something?"
"Do you believe the world could be destroyed by nuclear war?"
"Yes, of course."
"Are you familiar with the Bible?"
"We're here to talk about the message of hope."
"Oh. You familiar with the Apocalypse?"
"Of St. John? Revelations?"
"The Great Beast? You know the Beast?"
"Six-Sixty-Six? The Beast!"
"Yes, but the message of hope…"
"It's too late. He's here. We're all doomed. Excuse me, I'm late for work."
Is this what P. is really up to…There are Force and Counterforce locked in consciousness. One seeks Nirvana, release from the Wheel, one seeks to continue in Flesh. Either: a) only in flesh can the universe be "saved." The Entropy Messiah must come in Flesh. Or: not a) Only in Spirit can the universe be saved. Only from the level of the goddess, by transit thru Chonyid Bardo to the Esse, the Hub, the Throne of the Distributor; only here can Consc. effect the mutatis qui mutabit mutatem. But how much Consc? The "End" when all flesh has fallen down and a soul in every quantum? Or just a critical mass (a few faces on…) What, now, with self-organization over entropy, would the Saved Universe Be?
"Eh-you dick around with me, and sooner or later, you're gonna be in a slomo long-shot with a voice saying to watch the pistol in the lightened circular highlight as it rises out of the crowd and pumps five 9mm slugs worth of 'I told you so' through your fucking peritoneum."
—The Big Guy
"Okay, so we have scantily clad waitresses who also dance. we don't serve alcohol. We're not a bar."
What was the SS drinking until 2 am of Nov. 22, 1963? "Salty Dicks." What an agent described as grapefruit juice. "Last call!" "Hey, bartenter! Gimme a grapefruit juice!" Yeah,right.
He's perfectly understandable. He uses WORDS…following the Equator… sketchbook breakdown… "Somewhere along the line, TV got wired to my teeth."…infra-structure; meta-craft…
"What a dump"..disease in the edges of the resected specimen…"Help prevent
vasoproliferative sequellae!" These days, TV news is almost complete shit.
Diploma: a letter for travellers. Emergent seas…
Sore eros rose --
"It's a long way, but I can see it from here…"
—Make All Your Dreams Come True
"Remember July 4th? Looking out a D train window down into the Lower East Side…that man will always be there, crossing the street, breaking into a run, running from that truck…"
"And that truck will always be trying to get him." Smiling.
"As in fact you will always see me," she said, "Down in the Village."
"Someone's gonna make you wear jewelry"
Doesn't it look like South Street now?
in the end of the Universe
Don't look in the other room
because it's you
"workers leaving the factory"
The Surface of Revolution Editor
"I hate it when I believe you."
"Oh, you will, you Will."
Children of the Stone…
What's a good New Year's Day?
When nobody shows up with a warrant.
What's a bad New Year's Day?
When you spend the day at a police station--either giving a deposition, or standing in lineups.
hungover realization: my dharma is to write her scene in the sunporch
The smell of
and tubes of Stein's
in the bathroom
all mixed together
"Language is an unconscious storehouse of knowledge." -phrase from the dream(think about discursive mode…the word as Burroughs virus/Dawkins meme)
1) The Molineaux Problem. To see is to attempt to grasp.
2) Reality as a "movie" we are tens of nanoseconds behind.
3) The image of Cassady as the perfect player-piano player, fingers moving impossibly synched, soundless.
The compass was originally called "Lapis Heraclitus," and was supposed to "be" pointing to a star -- now we merely assume it's lining up with a field. The "truth" transcends our "reality."
Malls are credit cards.
Dreamt into the subway…"Do you like Springsteen?" not so much what we want, but why we want it. "What you have to be afraid of is that someday I'll stop saying, 'I want return' and start saying, 'I want revenge." Killing Time. When the people on car commercials are younger than you, you are old.
"The Third Stone from Fred Flintstone's Bone."
We gonna smoke some dope
fuck and grope
give up hope
shoot the pope
-Mu, "Mr. Hardy Suite"
"Folk wisdoms whose kernels of truth unpack only to reveal the laws of supply and demand.."
S*** T*** Poem
Emily sez she has tried
And we truck into a closeup of
the key light
on Newkirk's face
This must be time for a decision
Deletions and name changes made at the insistence of an unnamed corporation's lawyers.
-Merck & Ladre
"the bigness of america is bigness"
…eyes like two holes in spacetime.
Jeez, you are in love.
Shirley MacLaine sez there are three steps: First we are in the light, then the light is in us, they we and the light become one. And she is almost certainly right. As, probably, was poor fucked-over Wilhelm Reich who sez somewhere I think it's in "Listen Little Man," that sooner or later we will be forced to acknowledge that he discovered the laws of the living.
The boy, a musical prodigy, stares with passive-aggressive fear and loathing at a violin which he would like to pick up and play, but he is hallucinating so intensely that it appears to be a vivid robotic crayfish humming a fugue to his destruction.
Tactical Isomers, Inc.
Retro interpretation: the Ring as magic amulet against the fear of protean sexual identity."Velveeta¨: The Final Battle." The mystified proletariat. Unguided but guided systems. Liberal capitalists only prolong the agony. Pareto's Law. Well, Iron Laws can be melted down, but a law of virtual existence, a matrix law, with no phenomenological substance… ah, now that would be tough to break… (and if you prepared people for that level of violence, how would you turn them off?)
Consciousness as the negativity that enables us to threaten the telic universe. The dominos don't make the "fall" -- the Hand does that -- it just expresses itself "domino-ly"
In the last months of his life, Hitler apparently developed a peculiar fondness for creamy Viennese pastries, often eating dozens at a sitting. (cf. the Twinkie defense…)
Technologies are the result of people not being One with the Process.
"Are you anywhere near as good with your cock as you are with your tongue?"
"I don't know. I've never been able to do a study with the proper controls…"
"Meet the Ocean"
(a eupehemism for 'go to nothingness')
Bye bye bug…I don't care if you had forward facing pincers and 5 spines on yer legs--you were in MY fucking basement at the Wrong time, buddy.
Beanworten Sie die Fragen.
I want to pick up the phone and dial the Past.
"Entropy is what keeps intelligence in bodies."
-Emily, reporting on her dream
Sometimes, I'll just be making a sandwich the way she used to and start crying.
This is it! I remember both pasts! You were dead until…3 a.m. today.
don't ever fool with the post-mod-horn
"Every gift but the length of years."
"A fella has to lose at least once before he can win." ~Dewey
To survive, you have to deny your own existence…in the media, in the schools, in books. Just the merest suggestions, hints that only the Right eyes will pick up. The right people will find you. (shrugs) And if the wrong people find you too…that's a risk you have to take. It's the price you pay for denying solipsism.
Bayview off 27
Beth, the waitress
Sometimes you find someone who is just
what you need at the moment
to see in you
the Grace and Power
of the Pharoahs;
Closed books open
(We are in Transplant Alley, where the cadaveric donors lost their hearts…) All these beats where the waitress bops in, "Oh, I never would have met you…" v. the Pulsating Inevitable **** ** ****Ding an sich Intractable
The curves and shadows of lamps hanging, moving, over candlelit tables
The FUTURE, ah, me, Rudy, the light, the light is Everywhere? Charcoal giants and guacamole and Moments in rooms lit with music, and 3rd year painting majors and window curtains full of the truth and boxes that played tapes back before the Revolution! Always the same one, the one we saw in the slow progression of airline tickets from carbon red to computer duplicate…
Some kind of strange intuition--to see planes not as an isolated phenomenon (as things moving from place to place) but rather as a holistic flux; a hyle, people as information, the universe communicating w/itself via the Einstein Shuttle. Planes not as objects, but as effectors, as point-to-able localized examples of abstract mathematical and physical principles (vision of the plane like Wonder Woman's: an insubstantial pageant dissolving into a purely conceptual image) visual components falling away, leaving you with only an idea (The paradigm of Relativity!) The motion is toward pure ideation uncon- strained by visual/perceptual bag- gage.(Where's my perceptual baggage? Uh, sorry, it got sent to Buffalo.)
Salad Days? When structure=function. Calm relativity. That sort of thing.
Pre-nap vajrasutra: [there is] A pattern to the Run of the Universe.
Dream about being a professor-- teaching kids how to solve a mystery-- in academic robes, etc. In a library, with Japanese rock gardens.
Asimov's Book of Sexy Tax Limericks
"Time means nothing to a man without a watch." -Will Neustadter
He beats me up
Till he breaks the skin
Good guys lose
Bad guys win
We made friends of rats
(or bolts that lurked by crossties
pretending they were)
and a virtue of dissipation…
Sure things could have been different. But then, we wouldn't have been us; me, mining Rilke's Painland. Stalk in and say, "I think teaching writing is BULLSHIT." Or else, what happens to you? Five years down the road, and you're out on your own. Scary to depend on Academia; but not even scary in a high Creative/Chaotic sense -- look what it's done to the people in the Program?
What's free thought worth in a Gravitic Field? I would rather cut my head off to preserve the lie.
A flexpoint in the curve of Existence; but Roeg talked about it all in "Man Who Fell…" -- technology fails to save those left in the desert…
2 billion people determined to end world hunger…or at least, 2 billion people who were lured, for at least part of the weekend (the only time capitalist wage-slaves are allowed to be conscious…oh, my, excuse me, did I say that? This word processor doesn't have a ThoughtChecker™.) into a conscious dreem™. (Not a real dreAm, but a life™like simulation.)
"The brown brie is not poison. It's just not that good. I'd recommend you only eat HALF a
more more more
Massive technique; a warning to all governments: This Is The First Movement in the Global
Symphony. Corporate? Yes. But when you link music and video, you have bypassed massified
market broadcast TV and birthed a new camera I; a new space for the camera to see from.
Any point is the center, and when the camera points at starvation in Africa, and the
music takes us back to our roots, recent or distant, there…
No accident that the President chose this day to disappear into the maw of Bethesda. You might well criticize him for his lack of action, but can't really when the poor old man is unconscious with a surgeon's hands fondling his resected guts…
"There are not many who remember…"
"There are some bars around Langley where you can still get a smile and a very specific handshake by ordering a Salty Dick without the you-know-what, and asking if J.R.'s been around this evening…"
The first time you visit Dallas, the Plaza, you suddenly realize how really small the whole place is. Pacing off
the steps from the corner, counting off framenumbers under one's breath…
(Connally still looking fine)…238…
(Batter that bolt, O left-handed Lee…)
Just think. If Moses had had a PC… there'd be ten thousand commandments.
1) Partciular Election (by The Big Guy, of course…)
2) Definite Redemption (Available for the Elect only…you DID bring your Platinum Card, didn't you?)
3) Total inability (Us humans, pathetic, hopeless sinners.)
4) Efficacious Grace (Yum. Now in Original and new Extra-Crispy)
5) Final perseverance (Souls are never lost. Unless they were Preterite to begin with, that is…)
Petition the Lord with prayer?
I think not, my friend.
1986 : Ricorso
Across the tracks, there is a chipmunk. It sees us over here, but it doesn't know quite what to make of us--we are not, obviously, going to feed it.
I've moved off some distance from the others. Sheila and Jerry and Ted. Sheila is lying on the concrete platform, hanging her head over the tracks, and Jerry and Ted play at pushing her over. We are all close to madness at this point.
Ben Olmstead (who used to be Professor Olmstead) lies on the tracks. I try not to look. Human beings are unbearably complex when you have to look at all of their insides, rather than just the sheltering skin…
There was no February in 1752.
Check Russell Hoban's "Riddley Walker"
for possible "sooner or later" quotes.
Alt. Hist: 1960 separation was a mere 11,874 votes
Suppose one said that one remembered being on the wet team that took out Turing. Sad little op. Nobody ever checked to see if the teeth-prints on the apple were even his. And we went to such trouble…
Heroes who grow old gracefully… navigating Erikson's 8th stage… conspicuously absent in AmeriKa. Don't age; or if you must age, get out of the way, but keep buying things.
Just another blur in the background of a photo captioned "Life in America."
tiny microthoughts which would ordinarily not rise to the surface (a word evoking the shape of a particular column at 30th Street Station) come up to awareness (w/ice and pigeons & snow swirling outside, worrying about her, curbulence around the edge of cornices,) and drag whole complexes with them nexating back to the hyperconcept.
Lightning fertilizes the primal soup.
"Abbott & Costello in the Ministry of Love" (A Mank/Wells screenplay suppressed for years. Joseph Cotton as O'Brian. Wells as BB…)
"Hic jacet Arturus,
Et rexque futuris" -loose memory
Dust on the Prolegomena…the final unfolded state is the fractal expansion--until then, incompleteness rules, and no global inference can be thrown locally. "Commander Kant's Quality-State Writing System." Combined dispatches. Made to tremble before the spectre of the A-real.
"What's the meaning of the Universe?"
"There's a short answer and a long answer."
"What's the short answer?"
"I don't know."
"And the long answer?"
"You'll find out."
The Word is a virus -W.S. Burroughs
Word is the will made manifest.
Will is the word made immanent.
Love is the Law. Love under Will.
"They have no word for 'transgression' and they have no word for 'crime' and they have no word for 'sin.' But they do have a word that contains all these and a whole connected chain of ideas that I can't even see the tail endsof."
"What is it?"
"Those who joke, confess."
Phantom limbs are labelled lines; neuronal trunks that have ontogenetically come to Stand For a certain type of input. Even in the absence of this input, they are ready to pass along crap, or sometimes just make it up.
"With a particle beam
and some weather machines
she sank the Spanish fleet…"
I seem to remember a line in Rilke either Orpheus or Letters, saying that true love sooner or later will only be able to reach the loved one in the infinite. Check.
They're in the lobby, checking IDs.
"Hey, guys, I'm on your side."
The kid looks at the leather briefcase in my hand. A bad moment. "What about THAT?"
If I throw this away, and tomorrow it's just local fires and a National Guard cleanup, I'm fucked.
"We don't emphasize eugenics…"
"Hmf. You ever try to get laid in Connecticut?"
"You must really hate me." -EK, listening to Talk Around Town. She doesn't get it at all.
You always end up wandering in the desert until that generation which remembers is dead. cf. 60s-90s
"People think they have so much control over their endocrinology…and they don't at all…"
She was alpha…and aleph:
J E L P H D
Buddy's Bits: "Never sleep with the first person you fall in love with. And never fall in love with the first person you sleep with."
In fall, sleep with the first person you love Never with.
Was the Aspen Map really built as part of the Hostage Rescue attempt,: or is that just another Matrix Legend…?
Stealing (something) in a huge truck with Missouri plates. Driving back East; getting stuck in the muddy front yard in the Cove (just after a hurricane?) Remembering: Prometheus stealing fire--fire was the enabling technology of orality, of storytelling (How early fire use? Look up…) Electronic media creates the new Prometheus--the new enabling technology, one for which we are getting our liver pecked out. A bag of ice; a bag of fire. What was in the truck? The Past?
"Drive like a Bostonian."
Der Herrgott wurfelt nicht.
Not only does God play dice with the universe, but sometimes he throws them where you
can't see them.
Einstein argued, till he died, that Barney knows because there are local hidden variables, and that Quantum mechanics is incomplete. Bell, in 1964, demonstrated inconsistencies between the predictions of quantum mechanics and local hidden variable theories. Do we give up quantum mechanics? Do we succumb to the erotic lure of nonlocal causality? And what difference would it make, anyway?
Click any die to roll
In decimal notation, your magic number is…
Click here for extra luck before you roll
Welcome to Digital DiceRoom™
Click on a die for big, big excitement
When a symbolic form reaches the limits of its representational power, a recursion is forced.
"Hey…get the repair droid…the Sontag generator is down…" People running around frantically developing position papers on topics that didn't exist a half-hour ago, that might or might not become subjects for discussion by the time the newscrews get here this afternoon but that by tomorrow morning will be soggy newsprint left in the gutter for the recycling trucks from the dailies…Awareness of parallel action: dangling/decoupling from the egocentric predicament
Weak Verb Finder…"This one's not so bad..it took until the thirteenth word to get to
the main idea"…"Using 'I' 52 times in a paper about abortion."
(Who's writing the paper? A machine?)
"Drills and skills disguised as computer thrills."-Maria Diego…We're going to repeat our mistake!…We do the Vague Finder on Friday, and then next week we do Frequency…There ARE some wrong answers…Error Free…"I don't look at it till they've cleaned up all the errors. You all know how nice that is…"…"You can begin with an outline, and just fill it in!"… the rewards are intrinsic; they love playing with the computer. If only they edited their work better…90% of computer use in higher ed is word processing and spreadsheets. Yagh.
Exercises for Node "Thinkages"
Jack in and upload at least a dozen cross-cultural responses to an ambiguous stimulus. Develop isosemic mappings. Attempt to simultaneously hold all mappings at once. Compare this with an unambiguous symbol. How do things mean? Relative to what?
Til: Introduction to Cyberspace
Aut: Wilkey, Graeme]
Theocratic Chess: Pieces pretend that someone is moving them.
Monarchic Chess: One piece moves all pieces.
Capitalist Chess: Big Pieces move little pieces.
Socialist Chess: Pieces move for each other.
Libertarian Chess: Pieces move themselves.
Anarchic Chess: Pieces blow up the board.
The Magic Heat of the Mind
the Winter of the Afternoon
elevators slowly belaying
from the construction site
girder bare and shrouded
in Civilization's low hanging fog
with a guitar accompaniment)
What dreams of height and isolation
the Remaining Workers have
(view from the roof of Neal Carty's apartment by the Bus Depot)
The most primal force in nature is the sun.(uh, no, it's Gravity. But the force that opposes it is the sun.) (No, it's chaotic organization, the lumping of Eigenfunctions into quarks) (No, it's…it's…cheese!)
Old religion=direct worship.
Dialectic God/dess evolution…"Of course, love and hate are very close." "Of course…why didn't they think of that? If only Hitler had more friends, the Holocaust could have been prevented…" A Joyce, not an Eco. The Lares of the Electronic. The Portage to East Orange of Richard N.
Brooklyn…and they were the immigrants in the garden apartment next door….1940's
paint on the railings…t-shirts and radio…cars and grabass talk home from the
subways…the Navy Yard nearby, clamorbooming and the war rush still high in the blood
what perverse constructions in the psyche could possibly be invoked to explain the passing on of so subtle an idea
there should be a name for that relationship: child of a woman whose delta-t/s husband…
a would-have-been parent? See why we need new words for time travel?
in the throes of your own soul selling dream, imagining the fate of Their sons, Their daughters, the leveraged buyouts that had resulted in their procreation, with or without medals, with or without knowledge, or fame, or availability of other options. Watched from the sidelines, inevitable.
Analytic v. Pastific: Sink V. Rise
if it was wrong it would be a measure of one's brain disease to say it but to say that your writing made me learn something about my writing -- the way alternate pharmacologies will make us look at our pharmacological balance and say, "Yo! Dude! Chill!"
An elemental Rust (never sweeps)
Oh! Thus be it ever, Norteamericanos strung out along the Apollonian mainline—caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, cocaine, Valium®, chlorpromazine USP (getcha cheap generics) MTV, (Real AmeriKan museHack: No words, Rambo's™ ideal screenplay) pledging allegiance to life insurance, God (indivisible) on your dollar, Praising the Power® that Made, rearing under Academentia's snool-daze, wheezing Uncle Sham's unsingable National AntHymn, munching (d)electable Twinkies®, in Groupfear Therapy w/Spurs that Jingo(¡viva civil War!), (s)Praying Conquer We Must™ O, Man-infested Destiny, Amusing Our- selves to Death© with microwave News & satellite Dishes, that yummy TVdinners shall not perish from the earth.
(all trademarks property of their respective owners.)
"In that light, we can see our limits."
The intersection of language boundaries are the intersections of reality.
Objectivist: K=transact w/a "real" world externally present. Method=science-rules, genres & practitioners. System inscribes self.
Epistemic: K=capacity of individual language use and imagination. Voice/Mind= experiential integration. Making meaning of experience through language. Self imagines expression.
cf. Knoblauch & Brannon, "Rhetorical Traditions…"
Albert Magnusson's Dualitarium
- cable tv
- presentational *
- Rainbow *
"Okay.. you look up, see the train, say
'Jesus Christ' and then it hits the bus. Okay? Go." Harry rolled tape. Gus sat
in the back seat with a Ballantine, reading 'The Cat Who Walks Through Walls,'
and stalling on train tracks in a 1980's Greyhound. But then the train, a digitally
reconstructed Amtrak TurboLiner, hit…a brief reception of wrinkling metal, the body
catapulted upward before squashing, jamlike, as floor and ceiling met amid a grind of
metal and squeal of brakes.
"No, no, no. It's 'Jesus Christ' and THEN the train." But all that came from Gus in the studio was screaming wide-eyed, animal, screaming…
It was at this moment that Harry conceded there might be a problem with The Machine.
And suppose one were investigating such an
event, eh? Suppose one had found an "owl at dusk?" How Would You Know? Any effort to
trace back would be futile; the effects would only, finally, be just What Had Happened.
Some, however, speculate that around the one or place involved, there may be a magic circle of duality-of Dasein and Nichts-which might reveal itself through vanishings, sudden curvings of reality, unexplained lacun¾ in life- lines, certain absences. This would require a mindset so totally committed to finding these faint ripples that issues of subjectivity -and paranoia- would necessarily prevent testing and verification. It is perhaps in this that the ultimate security of the time traveller's enterprise safely rests.
What would this say?
What could it not say?
what it could not say
Would there be a certain order?
Thrill to the things that never happened.
Shortly after the invention of time travel, a group of researchers from MIT's
HyperMedia Lab decided to shunt uptime to the 1960's in order to ask Marshall
McLuhan what the effects of this new medium would be. Donning their love beads and
tie-dyed tee-shirts, they ventured back to Toronto, where they caught up with McLuhan in
a diner on Younge street.
"Hypothetically, of course," asked the cagey researchers, "What would be the effect of a medium which, oh, say, allowed information to travel across time?"
"You," he said.
"Three parameter model-item response theory…with a stratified sample, and I knew
I'd have to square the P-value."
-Quant Jox Eat Loudly
Trying to get those last straggling party guests to leave by making unsuccessful efforts to cover up exaggerated yawns: Tacky Yawn Communication
Hypotaxis: "I find myself unable to fully appreciate the
validity you ascribe to your position."
Parataxis: "Fuck YOU!"
Thurn und Taxis: "T…t..t..t.."
To be the church
the oneness out of flux
the dead spirits
in the night
who is it (do you suppose)
lives to sing?
mental defictives &
clingers to &
hangers on &
opportunistic climbing fux
and those whose motives are even less clear; why on EARTH… (where you can fill in the elipses with something like "not hip to X,Y or Z.") The full spectrum of society; a non-monolithic & pluralistic & positive flip side in the multi-experiential aspects of it. IRREDUCIBILITY is a key idea. Satire is another. "To be truly satiric, the blade must be sharp enough to cut the self as well as the opponent. Anything less is simply smug self-congratulat- ion."
"Simply? For you? You make smug self-congratulation a work of all-consuming art."
"Constraint is a feature."
Notes for talk:
Tales of Misery and Immachination…real time programming=children/step-time programming=digital reality -->evol-ution has proceeded to a point where real time is outmoded, cannot match the quantum effects possible to unhinged consciousness. Evolution out into plastic? (Imipolex, flicker- cladding) what is essentially human remains? Contingent v. essential aspects of linguistics, socialization, consciousness conditioning.
Apocalyptic Mode. Minds incapable of aesthetic representation of their own experience (~Jamieson) post-Nodernism
reindeer run, past Christ and Frosty, from schüss of sleigh to bing of bell rings us through a rosy welt's rictus of recombination back to North Pole and ArctoGaea. Hic Nick Picks Ard mam oult, trey fella tan lickleider en den eunuchfarcity fantasty. Trip. Attabay, nivir givin ta these hulaganz, yir Lardshape. Aye, Naffa Pede Anawhere! O, vizer Iris Cicatrix, pompen drunken steins vir waiftressy mitts. Navu aft 'er nadir, swordz inca penhondeliers' immaculent kantreception, yawled threw awl the whicksted worf. Badhegs beg fur poorsieve plots o' drainsad troil. Ya, ekstinct, nalunger. Crasscroft spilllit thirtsty inmades ayrisen wondourlisch. Wandeminded Nevin Peter Airwicked, bayround whelp, whacked wastrel. Away, Atlas, ashrug, at least, aloft the
Dream:barricaded in some enormous, remote death-locomotive on a barren world, surrounded
by vaguely human android/robots. The locals call them "rombies," by which they mean to
indicate a lack of neurogenesis. "Ants with hands," sez one old-timer. We arederailed in
deep sand, almost a Roeg-like feel, a "Walkabout" thing, waiting for reinforcements. The
crew (feels like starship folk, trapped refugees pointedly not violating the prime
directive) swap stories about the old days before the Evil Ones (as usual) came to
Is She in this dream, or not? Crew, local, or robot? Wake up at 5:30, hearing things move.
The windowshades, of course.
The house has had them, it seems, forever. Ancient sea-green outsides toward which curl yellowed ivory interiors. Nineteen fifties shades. Dark in the house shades. Cool, pre-AC afternoon interior shades.
Of course, at 5 in the morning, pulsing through their range-of-motion relative to the screen and the drape, they become aliens in the cargo hold, industrial steamscapes, thwok-ing carbide jaws poised to deglove the unwary.
Before, of course, they will become windowshades again.
"The real story? Of course not. You never get the REAL story. By the time you get
finished prying the truth out of their cold, dead throats, it's already been…corrected."
Zu den Sachen!
-a phenomenological motto
Three Days of the Tuna…Popperian Fallibilism under Seige…"These three Christs walk into a bar…" …born- again bicamerals…narritization as epiphenomenal manifestation of continuously running schemata pushed down into the stack…consciousness rising up and moving out from body through environment, reserving for Consc. higher and higher functions…
The Cat that was my Father
The Animal-Machine sublimation
Exemplary narratives of loss
Ten years ago I wrote more
either I'm pushing for
a big leap
or I'm burnt
Death (a death) is
always a conspiracy
(a con spirare) and this
is the true meaning
"you and me…"
You and me,
we get tapped
for the Hand Loop…
Simplicity, iterated enough, becomes complexity all by
And pretty gosh darned quickly, too…
Teaching is just a way to avoid the responsibility of creative writing, which is what I claim I really do.
"There is no being, only pattern."
No planes, just a collection of spare parts flying in close formation.
Monsters=Parents (Oh, little tome of Bettleheim) The Wild Things are Here.
Language is a power device. One must accept not only the dharma that comes with evoKation but also a whole raft of low-rent rakshasha and djinns of various ethno- methodological etiology, all too happy to sink home
So You Think YOU Can Write teeth.
California is the urge for something ancient;
Something not-quite-nameless crept up on her shore,
In this land that Time Forgot
Rose a Universal Lot
Able only to look forward
to a lamp uplifted just beyond the frame around the Golden Door…
is the age for something urgent;
Something not-quite-mindless slipt up on her shore,
woken freaked with fleeting shakes
from a dream of mighty quakes
Just to catch the Tyger
Blake had captured
on wakeup cable live from Burbank
glibly pitching Frosted Flakes™
A dream, or a Communication, from which I awoke, wondering which strand I'm in this time…then wondering what that means…but writing down some notes, which unfortunately, I left in my bathrobe pocket when I did the wash today. All I remember now is the key phrase: "Surfing the Manifold," which was both the Kantian sense, and a deeper, cosmic sense, in which the manifold was the linked Hilbert space of the Many Worlds interpretation… the surfing being, one would suppose, bodysurfing, or perhaps, mindsurfing, or something like that. (remembering the Silver Surfer & all that…) The remaining notes on the washed paper evoke, but fail to gel. I study them, and have a confusing sense of not having written them…
Just awoke from a dream in which I was watching PBS, and the bumper at the end of the program came up with the title "Sponsored Causality" with a graph that looked like yr standard light-cone, but meant something different….that the causality of any event was infinitely "sponsored" (in some abstract, Hilbertian sense) and that the chain of actualization could retroactively determine causality based on back-branching along the non-local "tachyon cone" for an event.
Causality, in this model, was more like sponsorship, like "making possible;" "supplying certain wave patterns;" "adding to the mix;" "being an accessory before the fact to…"
The universe is, after all, a UNI-verse. One "thing" happening. (What is the sound of one thing happening?) Ripples propagating along lengths of cosmic string, rucked up into these knotted humps we call consciousness, which arbitrarily slice vision-ports into the flux of spacetime and call it an I. And then look around and notice these other "I"'s arrayed seemingly inexplicably about them. How the hell did THEY get there? Haunted endlessly by some ghost-guessed sense of connection, explanation, meaning. The gatekeeping monk flaps her long sleeves. Something translate. Something speak. Nowhere does the circle close, eh? Never been anything else but, buddy, never been anything else but.
Noses and No-no Theism
With all this saccadic flux, what keeps reality in one place? Sucking on the ugly truth. Oedipus v. Malinowski. Hey, c'mere you sexy-as-hell-meaning-making-entity you…an exportable ethos; one that lives to cross the street. Book culture=perfect relationships; electronic="up and running" computer/debug paradigm (cf. Turkle geometry) Trees.Shopping malls.
"Suck my transcendental signifier."
To truly understand the Goddess, one has to embrace all 3 principles: Creator, preserver, destroyer. Not just acknowledge their existence, but rather implicate oneself in her phases of being-admit to oneself that these are also your phases of being. Not so hard with Creator and Preserver—everyone likes to play good cop. Western minds find the Destroyer "alien" [so to speak] and she is the aspect most often translated as demon (Lilith) or antigod. Westerners blanch at Kali eating the dead; we are synched up to the idea of progress and control, and the symphony of recombination is too dissonant for us to recognize. But not for Nature. Or Her. And what she is is what we are.
The heart of the labyrinth, the final mirror.
"I know you—you know me"
You know who I am. You may be looking at me across the room, out of the corner of your eye, or thinking about me even as you're reading this. (I'm the old and distant enemy. I'm the one you've feared from birth…)
You may even recognize me, know who I am. But you may not. How many branches can one fall from the Tree and still "remember." You've had the experience sometimes…at some point you fall, just as you're looking at yourself in a mirror, or on videotape, or reflected in the convex glisten of your just awakened lover's eyes, and in that moment, you will feel the backbranchings pinched away…
And it seems like forever, waking up in the Garden.
Writers, because they are 'noticings' are always noticings of difference, and hence their texts are always, to a greater or lesser extent, Remembrances of Things Past. Even to love the new is always a function of the old: the memory which distinguishes. A truly new medium will require that this change in the same way that time perception changes in dreams; the objects of perception suddenly pulsing with Undifferentiated Meaning, luring the mind down thoughtmoments too tangential for the waking eye. Only when the analytic of consciousness can be suspended can the truly New emerge.
How tentatively we ususally grasp things touching only the thin surface visibility instinctively aware that we will discover, if we slip our fingers too far over the edges, that the universe has grown into, entangled the thing with tendrils we can only feel the first rough inches of.
The function of cities is to crush people. Whether with debris or bureaucracy, since writing enabled the System to expand past the vocal scale, we've been at the mercy of represent- ative governments, dissected functions, and the paper shuffle. The Press of culture is the anxiety of influence. No accident that writers have historically taken to the hills, ponds, and redwood forests.
Created by Print we can Do without Being.
Oh, sez Carpenter, what a blow that phantom gave me. A long cold day in the White Subway. Medium = message. AmeriKa becomes fascist simulation. Once the helmet is on, it never comes off. (Equus) Virtual reality is the idea of fascist perfection, a world we can control, the clean, purified Pynchonic "Electroworld," where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Literary hypertext will always be like PBS or Joyce-never as popular as Steven King or The Simpsons. Get used to it and stop whining. No one can hear you, anyway. And who cares. We're all slaves and tools of the evil tyrant demiurge. Ted Koppel told me.
It is, I guess, a matter of final belief.
Like that apocryphal last episode of St. Elsewhere, where the entire series is just a hallucination in the mind of an autistic child whose dad is really a janitor at a housing project, and the hospital exists in one of those glass snow-shake Rosebud bubbles.
Whenever you look at the large scale structure of matter, you are looking at the time dimension. The spiraling of galaxies, what would in a 3-D cup of coffee be a downward-axis whirpool, is, in 4-D structures, an inward pitching time spin.
"The slow undoing of human rights" —JK
Hey Kids! Want the same cognitive effect as VR without all the expense? Try Uncle Buddy's virtual VR today!
The Buddy System™
(1) Strap two TV sets to your head
(2) Put on a Walkman®
(3) Slip on a pair of asbestos crucible mitts with 20 lb. weights attached (the WeightaGlove™)
(4) Pull on some big rubber boots
(5) Stand on a treadmill
(1) Put on a Guns 'n' Roses tape REALLY FUCKING LOUD
(2) Tune one TV to Carson and one to Arsenio
(3) Walk up the hill backwards while trying to grab things as they go by in commercials
1991 New Yeat's Day
Sometimes, you can look back at your life and say, as if you were a character, say, in a fiction, what it seems to have been all about. Or perhaps, it's just morning after dystopian echolalia. Are we inevitably subverted by the roles the patriarchy delineates? (De-lineates) Can victimizers be victims (yes and no) and can victims be victimizers (yes and no) and can new ways of thinking (doing, being, recording, telling, narrating) have any impact on the whole shmear?
I met her in the alleyway;
she was the heroine
with a thousand faces.
What's the password?