| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • Stop wasting time looking for files and revisions. Connect your Gmail, DriveDropbox, and Slack accounts and in less than 2 minutes, Dokkio will automatically organize all your file attachments. Learn more and claim your free account.

View
 

VulpesLogos

Page history last edited by PBworks 13 years, 5 months ago

VulpesLogos

Gukkering, she still speaks:

 

 

"...if you're agreeable to paying the somewhat larger monthly fee, we can place her in a high-grade isolated chamber with walls coated and reinforced with Telfon-26 so as to inhibit hetero-psychic infusion..."


 

March 8, 2007

Has it been so terribly long since I have dropped a line? I've been dedicated to other boxes. I'm squeaking in the darkness, trying to be as silent as I can while tending this fragile dreamachine. What's in a frequency? Sine waves and sinus pressure.

 

A question I once asked a man without thoughts: what are the mechanisms for moving beyond mechanisms? This rhetorical query stems from my old problem with co-opting completely Maya, or the gnost-Dick Black Iron Prison, as an exoteric literalality. The material world is not a dream, a dance of illusion. The way we receive it may be. But the material world with it's infinite variation and interaction from quarks to cosmos is a divine representation of the One as the Many. Yet there is also a beyond yonder: Non-Being, the Void, as the seeming antithesis and simultaneously the source of Being. Yet "we really mean by this Nothing is some thing beyond the last term(N!) to which we can reduce our purest conception and our most abstract or subtle experience of actual being as we know or conceive it while in this universe. This Nothing then is merely a something beyond positive conception. We erect a fiction of nothingness in order to overpass, by the method of total exclusion, all that we can know and conciously are."

 

What sentence can follow that? Back to the beats - what wetware modifications can highlight that link up to the Nothing beyond the last term? Let's toss an exponent on reflection, find a function which simultaneously diverges and converges at the Origin. Brain beats and black boxes of salt water. Careful attentuation of stimuli overlays as a bass line on which to build the riffs of cosmic conciousness.

 

January 31, 2007

A hum, rattle, and pop whirls in this onomatopoeic romp, splattering syllabalic tattoos of nonsense, all gurgling and churning - a vibratory falsetto of quivering vocal chords. Words warp in this web of wyrd. An intertwingled systems theory of living does not yield practical solutions. Just as the splashing, banging, clicking rhythms of poetry do not easily lend exoteric efficiency - leave that bit to the technical writers. Which is to say there are no simple answers unfettered with unintended consequence. Recall the Infinite Library of this wikiality and extend it to the options paralysis of your quarter-life crisis. Open any book of a course of action and glimpse the spiraling feedback loop of consequence and fate. Decisions take on daunting proportions in a panic over the staggering weight of branching futurity. "What if I choose the wrong major, girl/guy, job, location, etc and don't find out until five years later?" This is the frightening (seeming) wikiality of reality; the intertwingled chaos of slight fluctuations butterfly into recklessly swinging perturbations. And you thought butterflies were just pretty - staring into the eyespots of the abyss of the Unknown. No al-gore-rhythm could solve this mess! Dial up the heuristic then. There are better decisions than others, of course. But ain't no plan works better than a meta-decision, a decision to surrender to the decisions. Carry water, chop wood, it is terribly good. Postulate that no decision is inherently better than any other because opportunity doesn't knock - it always waits patiently on the threshold in the cold, grinning Clear Light because the porch light is out. Just waiting for the agitated climate-controlled monstrosity inside to open the door.

 

And "life is thundering blissful towards death in a stampede of his fumbling green gentleness."

 

January 25, 2007

 

Responding to a responsible response: Are you positing that no person has a singular personality? Yes, that's exactly what I'm positing. Personality is a discontinuous function of genetics, experience, and environment - codify it as substance, set, and setting. "I" am not the same "me" that was im-persona-ting the "myself" of one year ago. But as for my less radical assertions: I still don't see the loss of "singular interpretation" that you are lamenting. Let me give you an example at hand: this conversation like a long distance chess match. No Other other than you could have interpreted, analyzed, and re-formed my argument into your argument to feed back to my argument to sustain the life of this discourse. Voice is not lost, style is not lost, the mixed bag of metaphors are not lost any more than a violin is lost in an orchestra. What I claim is merely a shift in emphasis, such that "Pynchon" no longer signifies a closed set of texts, but rather an open set adrift in a field of discourse that can be vaguely defined "Pynchonesque." Do you get me?

 

Has it really been almost three months since this discussion started? Apologies for my incredibly delayed response to a response to a response. I see your point that "individuality" (if I may use that word) is not lost. And I suppose I was not being clear in my rather trite question...In my opinion we are all individuals, not out of some internal individual unreachable thing which one may call the spirit or soul, but by our reactions to events...events shared with other people but to which we may or may not react uniquely. No one else is me and I am no one else, purely because of a uniqe combination of elements which form me (see my Ubik remix explanation). Here I'm thinking Dewey's example of Abraham Lincoln in "Time and Individuality", which I did a paper on earlier in the semester if you're interested.

 

We've all got a shared something, obviously. Otherwise communication would be impossible. I'd say it's a shared history (history meaning not merely dates and events but a biological, social, psychological, cosmological history) rather than a collective conscience. And I think that's what you're saying here (though I'm not positive). In other words, I'm linked to you through an infinite series of connections, which means that we're not truly 'singular.' (My mistake in using the term! Forgive me.) My fear was more along the lines of the potential for losing the concept of an 'author.' Call me dated or say I'm clinging to the past, but I'm still fascinated by examining one person's writing. I love reading about their life, the books they loved, the classes they took, and looking at how the collective work of all of human and cosmic history has culminated in something by one person. Monkeys may be able to write Shakespeare, but I don't think it would be the same...because for me a large piece of Hamlet is Shakespeare himself. Make sense? - Ceridwen

 

January 24, 2007

 

The Voight-COMT test reveals a deviation among phenotypes within the "organ system" of attention. Organ system, or economy? - The medium is the message and messenger. And you can't kill it. Hypnotizability has a genetic basis, whoduv-thunk-it? But how does hypnotizability relate to attention? It would seem that selected focus of attention allows access to altered states of consciousness - negating the Stroop interference among those who are highly hypnotizable. Focused attention yields selective attention through an alteration of consciousness granting the ability to eliminate irrelevant and yet automatically processed data. What this represents is a metaprogramming of immediate cognitive labeling on the basic level of word comprehension/color perception. A genetic potential for the ability to metaprogram?

 

 

January 23, 2007

I hear rumblings and the "wow-wow-wow" of engagement with the wiki. BookWorm questions the credibility of the wiki in terms of originality. Up goes the banal cry of "plagiarism!" I had forgotten how propagandized was this pet prohibition of Penn State. What is revealed is a false distinction of creativity. No creative act bubbles up fully formed from the void. Creativity is an evolutionary process - a matter of response and interaction. Remixing is not plagiarism, despite the RIAA's vehemence. Plagiarism really signifies an avoidance of the creative process and is solely an artifact of the reward system of the culture of control. Clich├ęd standardized responses - like so many "have good day"s from convenience store clerks - these are the domain of plagiarism.

 

Ceridwen announces "My fear, though, is that we may ultimately produce generations of authors who cannot produce a text without the direct input (through co-authoring, editing, or constant commentary) of several others." A similar lament I recall from some far-off NY Times article not to be linked here. With so much of communication moving online, especially in regards to email, some literati mourned the death of Correspondence. Texts such as The Yage Letters will never come to pass again, though their example I'm sure was much different. The dialog of post has been subsumed by the clamoring pandemonium of wiki. Remove then the legacy of authorship! Certainly there will still be the brilliant figures, elite names that inspire a trembling awe in creative writing majors - ala Herr Ubermensche Pynchon. Yet, this noble idea of the author is itself a relatively modern invention. Perhaps only as old as the novel, but to give it the benefit of the doubt we'll take it back to Homer. However, even then mythologies and narrative were, for the most part, orally transmitted epics - massively sprawling affairs immanent and ongoing. The story and author as a self-contained entity was merely an artifact of some inconceivable future. And we must rightly, I think, move beyond it; place it once more in the realm of artifact. Genre, theme, and a community of idea should and likely will occupy a space of significance greater than the idiosyncrasies of a single mind. We begin then speaking of orchestras of authors, ensembles of poets speaking at the same time. The era of the soloist slowly crumbles. Hail, hail, the gang's all here, mixing metaphors and editing open-source epics.

 

In response to your response on my page...Perhaps I'm simply an idiot, but I'm confused. Are you positing that no person has a singular personality? I'd go as far as to say that there's really no truly original thought, just people spitting out different combinations of things already said by thousands of others, but in that unique combination lies the individual. No other could have interpreted, analyzed, and re-formed the massive quantities of information quite like that one person. And I value that singular interpretation. - Ceridwen

 

January 22, 2007

Plugging in and purring for an interconnection. Link to me, oh baby, baby, can we swap some data? The salt in my ear crunches when the bass hits. Sink down deep, visualize yourself in the middle of an infinite cornfield, smell the papery husk and the give of the soil, feel a hundred tiny cuts on the surface of your face, breathe, lose yourself, and tell me what you find.

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.