I've been trying to chart my work books, but I don't want to see them. At all. Fantastic difficulty. I did the first class and the reminder came up to do the second class and I couldn't bring myself to do it. Part of it is horror. Part of it is blatant stupidity. Part of it is just not wanting to know how much further I am going to have to work to get back to zero.
I just want to put my fist through something. Anything! Not even through, but just break my hand. Null it. But I need my hands, both of them. And I need the ability to ambulate. I need my knees and my elbows and I have to protect them the same way people protect their investments. It breaks my heart sometimes knowing that I can't do what I need to do. It makes me cry a lot. I won't go to "it's not fair" because it's just a fact. I could probably cut a finger off. I think I would save it. Maybe eat it. Cook it somehow like a ham hock. Stew it or something. It's tantalizing and aggravating because I know where the knuckles join and have cut limbs apart before but I don't trust my left hand to operate the scissors on my right hand. Maybe just the pinky.
Gauging my pain threshold. I'm still not sure where it is exactly and I probably shouldn't be losing sleep about it, but I am. I think I get that from my father. How far are you willing to go before you jump to get what you need. Would I have to cauterize it myself? Probably. I don't know why I need to do these things, but I do and its getting more powerful and harder to swallow it down between suggestions. I don't know what that means! It scares me. It's getting harder to pretend to be normal. Normative? Baseline. Nullification. Talked to Martin about that for a while. It was a good conversation.
Relying more and more on emulation and I'm afraid I will be found out. Not about being gay or anything that trivial, but being found out about being a fucking psychopath. I want blood all the time, I don't care how it comes. I need help. I need assistance and I keep saying I can run this car until the wheels fall off, but I've been rolling on brake discs forever. So many years.
It would be easier if I was not aware of the degeneration, but I think a piece of the awareness has lent itself to a belief that I'm making it up and even as I'm speaking I know it sounds contrived. It isn't. It's motor and I know less and less how to change the fucking oil. I don't know what to do about it. I know where to go, but you better believe I'm not going there. Like I need more debt, don't make me laugh. I'll spit ice tea everywhere. I'm not getting interned again! No! I will never put down the ax! If you want it out of my hands you better be fucking prepared to take it from me.
I'm not a gun, but I will put one between your eyes and kiss you while I do it if you think it was going to be that easy. Don't touch me. Do not fucking touch me. Ever. I will break your fingers one by one while I sit on your chest so you don't move too much. Escalation. Take the escalator back down.
I know what's wrong with me, but I need a checkup and I don't know where to get one without the internment trap. I'm not doing that again. We're not doing that again. Just handle it. Just grab your ears and pull up your socks and eat it. Life hasn't been all that bad to me. I'm just tired of having to emulate to squeak by. Doing it by the skin of my teeth and I'm pretty sure some people have started to see through it so I have to work harder at it because the people that I do love I love dearly and want to keep them and want them to keep me to and the last thing that should happen is giving them a reason.
It's tough. Everything worth having is hard. Is a myth. Perpetuated by people who think "difficult" is possession in the material sense or the kid rearing sense. Everything worth having is hard in the interpersonal intrapersonal sense. Having ground you do not need to give inside your skull is worth having. Maintaining relationships with the people you care about and trust is worth having. Put in work, no doubt, but put in secondary work too.
///Amon Tobin - "Back from Space" I wish I could fly, but not just to the atmosphere, to the stars. I want to explore the Oort cloud and be the first man to land on an asteroid and be out there in the zero cold and see the sun without atmospheric interference. I want to see Jupiter up close at all costs and I want to die out there. But I'm stuck here. And have to keep coming back to this fucking planet every time I wake up. Bullshit.
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
Showing posts with label amon tobin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label amon tobin. Show all posts
10/21/13
5/20/13
We Were Looking for Highspeed
spent some time in the foundry. It was important to do. Part of the importance was simply getting the shakes out. Along the path of life I managed to convince myself that it was too hard to use my drawing pad to make drawings instead of doing them on paper but what I realized, after weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks of procrastination, was that I was putting it off to do paper because I knew I would never really try to pick up paper the same way I can pick up the convenience of a drawing pad. Partly because I don't have the pens or pencils I like in my house and at arms reach when I want them, and partly because I don't have scrolls of paper big enough to do what I want to do when I want to do it, and partly because both of those things allow me the saving grace to not have to burden myself with the torture of stepping outside my own skull, and that last one is the big one.
I love living by dreamlight still. It's a wonderful thing. Not without it's own limitations, but when you live in there you never have to worry about showing someone else what it was that you saw while you were there. You never have to do the work. On top of that you never have to slug your way through misinterpretation when you do try to translate dream code into real code and the circuits short out half way and you get flustered and start sweating because you know they know it didn't really happen but it did I swear if I can just show you how it all went down. You're never burdened with that. But it's the same principle as the principle of the fact of the matter and on and on being that you can't get in trouble if you're not conscious. Which is true.
How you got to being unconscious is the tricky part, but once you get there you are literally unable to fuck anything up. There's something to be said for that. The being comatose. The being asleep. Part of why I prize it like I do. The best way to do no wrong is to be unable to do no wrong. So I spent some time though and made a picture that I like and also do not enjoy looking at because it did not turn out the way I wanted to or the way I saw it in my head and more over it is now subject to other opinions that I can or may not listen to, but it's not like I'm making a career so I care and then I don't off and on and more importantly if I simply went to bed instead of drawing the entire issue would be moot. That's me. Butters.
I'm glad I went back inside it though. I had to. I couldn't not do it. Things were gestating for months and needed out. It was time not spent unwell, and there's something to be said for that and I'm saying it now. Or at least trying to. I care because you do. You care because I do. We care because the infinite point of no one does not care? Trying to balance out the word game. It's funny. She's funny. But if you're going to be a recluse, at least try not to be reckless is all I'm saying. If you're house is going to burn down, at least take good pictures.
Twas' fun though.
I don't know what it all means with regard to the original mission. I don't know if I'm gaining or losing ground or if it matters. I'm still trying to lay down the blueprint, not so much to prevent me from recurring farther along down the line of history, and not so much to cut off what created me, and not so much to bring about some sort of internal change, but just to lay down track so someone like me can at least know what may or may not be ahead of them (but more than likely is). That's really part of what I do live for. Delusional or not. I enjoy going to sleep and laying my head on a pillow knowing that maybe, on down the line, I helped someone not completely self destruct. Or at least postpone it a day or two.
If what I do and have done tells one boy that it's not necessarily over when it should have been, but it's also written once it's written and the best you can do is operate within that frame and engage and rejoin society to the best you can do and the rest is garbage time and uncontrollable and largely unpleasant, but unavoidable, then I did something right. Sometimes you get bad gear from the get and that will be how it is. A perpetual game of catch up if you let yourself be consumed by it. Personally, I'm still hoping for the off chance of a nuclear apocalypse. And that's a long, long, long, bet these days. I also thought, though, with my luck, I'd be the first one to die in an Earth purging event. The first person shot in the face by some ultimate virus cleansing crew because I happened to develop a bad cough the day before shit hit the fan. Ha! that would be my luck though.
Just know, you're not alone. I tell and believe the same within myself.. We'll meet again some day, sweetheart, and when we do we will tear this planet down to it's foundations by any means available. And it will be classy as hell.
///Amon Tobin + "Rosies" so where do you wanna go?
1/21/11
Delays for the Right Reasons
I haven't forgotten your playlist. Well, it's my playlist too. I think this year I will use last.fm to help me make my selections as this is the first year I've used it all the way through. Granted the things that get played the most won't necessarily be the things worth including in a year capper, but it'll at least put me on the trail of what I was feeling when I heard the songs lesser played.
I was going to do it today, but I was sidetracked with picture recovery issues and food issues. I do miss having every single day more or less wide open. Well that's not even close to true. Wow, rose tints. I'm just so contented nowadays I feel like every minute I'm curled up in my bed is the minute just after an awesome orgasm and that kind of feeling can take the desire to make further improvements right out of your system.
Every single day was not wide open when I didn't have a job. It sucked. Job hunting was like trying to walk across a bog while looking for a piece of string that, if you found it and followed it long enough, would eventually lead you to a poorly paved stone pathway. I walked across that suck for so long the stone pathway I ended up finding 400 days and 200+ resume's and cover letters later might as well have been gold.
I don't feel bad that I feel pretty good now that I'm out of that hell system and finally into as close as I've been to what I can call "myself" since I knew there was such a thing as a self, but I can't forget that with a little more effort I can feel even better. Right now I've been eating vienna sausages on bread with cheese because I don't own a refrigerator. That's got to change. Did you know that you can spread Vienna sausages .like stiff butter? How gross is that? Not so bad once it gets into your mouth, but be ready to check your gag reflex mid construction.
The good news? I'm learning how to manage my time with respect to work. Expect poetry output to return to between 5 and 7 a week (though I haven't managed to lay them out daily at Auralport I do compose their bones daily during my 45 minute walks to and from work) and I want to be on here at least thrice a week, but for now it may just be on my two days off (whenever they fall, my schedule is kind of screwed up and changes week in and week out and sometimes midweek). I do really need to get back into Bits for Flames because I've been living some tales of interest (futurama reference) and some new characters are populating the universe and they need their stories told too, plus there's a fetal novel skulking around somewhere and I need to chip at it some more since it's two thirds done. That should be numbers, I know, but I'm working on a laptop sitting on my chest in the dark and I can't see the damn numbers and damnit I miss my desktop. I have go to go get that shit as soon as possible because this is not cool at all. I have fucking post partum depression over this shit.
I had another recurrence, in variable, of the dream where my teeth decay out of my mouth. This iteration was ridiculously graphic. It was so intense that when the rest of my dreamland travel came to a close and I opened my eyes the first thing I did was go to the bathroom and check that my teeth were still in my mouth. I mean it was absolutely that bad. In the dream one of my bottom front teeth was loose so I jiggled it and felt no pain so I pull it out, but the nerve was not separate from my gum, it was only completely numbed. The nerve pulled out with the same feeling of pulling thread out of a stitched wound and because I tugged the tooth so hard, thinking it wasn't connected to anything, I couldn't stop the swing of my arm before the unspooling nerve tore out several other teeth that then let this thick black fungal puss gush out of the sides of my molars which then collapsed like sink holes and my entire face just lit up with pain like fire axes. It sucked. It took hours of rinsing before it stopped hurting and didn't taste like ten kinds of filth and even then I ended up having to wrap my entire jaw closed so that the hollowed and eaten out remains of my bones wouldn't fall off of my skull before I could continue on.
Well anyway, what I mean to say is that I am delayed, but I promise you it's for the right reasons. Things are getting closer to being on track and there'll be more love and thought and things to rage and linger over as they do.
///Amon Tobin - "Bloodstone" this song makes me want to write a script for some science fiction noir, but mostly it punctuates evening walks through foreign and rain soaked suburban streets so well it's a little scary, but the kind of scary that makes you grin a little on the inside and hope that something horrible happens before your eyes just as it ends.
I was going to do it today, but I was sidetracked with picture recovery issues and food issues. I do miss having every single day more or less wide open. Well that's not even close to true. Wow, rose tints. I'm just so contented nowadays I feel like every minute I'm curled up in my bed is the minute just after an awesome orgasm and that kind of feeling can take the desire to make further improvements right out of your system.
Every single day was not wide open when I didn't have a job. It sucked. Job hunting was like trying to walk across a bog while looking for a piece of string that, if you found it and followed it long enough, would eventually lead you to a poorly paved stone pathway. I walked across that suck for so long the stone pathway I ended up finding 400 days and 200+ resume's and cover letters later might as well have been gold.
I don't feel bad that I feel pretty good now that I'm out of that hell system and finally into as close as I've been to what I can call "myself" since I knew there was such a thing as a self, but I can't forget that with a little more effort I can feel even better. Right now I've been eating vienna sausages on bread with cheese because I don't own a refrigerator. That's got to change. Did you know that you can spread Vienna sausages .like stiff butter? How gross is that? Not so bad once it gets into your mouth, but be ready to check your gag reflex mid construction.
The good news? I'm learning how to manage my time with respect to work. Expect poetry output to return to between 5 and 7 a week (though I haven't managed to lay them out daily at Auralport I do compose their bones daily during my 45 minute walks to and from work) and I want to be on here at least thrice a week, but for now it may just be on my two days off (whenever they fall, my schedule is kind of screwed up and changes week in and week out and sometimes midweek). I do really need to get back into Bits for Flames because I've been living some tales of interest (futurama reference) and some new characters are populating the universe and they need their stories told too, plus there's a fetal novel skulking around somewhere and I need to chip at it some more since it's two thirds done. That should be numbers, I know, but I'm working on a laptop sitting on my chest in the dark and I can't see the damn numbers and damnit I miss my desktop. I have go to go get that shit as soon as possible because this is not cool at all. I have fucking post partum depression over this shit.
I had another recurrence, in variable, of the dream where my teeth decay out of my mouth. This iteration was ridiculously graphic. It was so intense that when the rest of my dreamland travel came to a close and I opened my eyes the first thing I did was go to the bathroom and check that my teeth were still in my mouth. I mean it was absolutely that bad. In the dream one of my bottom front teeth was loose so I jiggled it and felt no pain so I pull it out, but the nerve was not separate from my gum, it was only completely numbed. The nerve pulled out with the same feeling of pulling thread out of a stitched wound and because I tugged the tooth so hard, thinking it wasn't connected to anything, I couldn't stop the swing of my arm before the unspooling nerve tore out several other teeth that then let this thick black fungal puss gush out of the sides of my molars which then collapsed like sink holes and my entire face just lit up with pain like fire axes. It sucked. It took hours of rinsing before it stopped hurting and didn't taste like ten kinds of filth and even then I ended up having to wrap my entire jaw closed so that the hollowed and eaten out remains of my bones wouldn't fall off of my skull before I could continue on.
Well anyway, what I mean to say is that I am delayed, but I promise you it's for the right reasons. Things are getting closer to being on track and there'll be more love and thought and things to rage and linger over as they do.
///Amon Tobin - "Bloodstone" this song makes me want to write a script for some science fiction noir, but mostly it punctuates evening walks through foreign and rain soaked suburban streets so well it's a little scary, but the kind of scary that makes you grin a little on the inside and hope that something horrible happens before your eyes just as it ends.
9/15/10
The Farce of Human Interest
The upside of funemployment is free time. The downside of funemployment is day time television. I won't come out with a blanket statement about the demographic that watches or is available to watch daytime television on a regular basis, but what I will do is call out the insanity of the supposed human interest story featured on daytime television.
In its thinnest guise it is the paternity specials on talk shows and the daily freak shows created from people with actual problems who somehow think taking their children or families on talk shows will provide some kind of lasting solution to whatever it is that ails them on the inside or maybe just to make a buck and get a tv special pitched at them from TLC. In its thicker, more elaborate manifestations it's the two day back to back experience of the "half ton mom" and the expose' on teenage fight club sex parties and alarmist programs highlighting manufactured cultural tensions and real ones.
And I guess I'm just sick of people calling it human interest. Human interest, the term itself, seems to ask a little more of itself than to simply raise emotion and sympathy and "wow" from the viewer. Human interest should denote a desire or interest to view and understand human-ness or humanity. A term as charged as human interest shouldn't stoop to the ridiculous shallows of daytime television for any reason. Human interest should be about introspection and reflection and I guarantee you the people watching human interest stories are as interested in taking in introspection and reflection as a red head at the beach is interested in taking in an afternoon of sun bathing. Having to be around people purporting to enjoy watching human interest stories is like going to a meeting with 30 yes men. All they're doing is soaking up reaffirmation of their pre-existing beliefs. In the end though, I'm sure that's why the shows are on tv. That and to illicit all of the "wows" and "oh my Gods" from the people that are watching purely for the floor show.
Personally I like to take my entertainment from sports arenas and sit coms. Wow, that sounds snooty. You know what, I'm saying it anyway. It only sounds snooty in the context of the ridiculousness of this modern day reversal. So human interest is an enormous farce that people watch so they can say things and feel connected to problems they don't have and feel a conscience they never acknowledge for the other 130 hours of their week and feel reassured that drugs are bad and teens are dangerous and gangs live in every dark corner of every city and know that they're not so bad because "look at the tv, there're worse people than me." So what.
I don't know. I feel dumber for having brought it up. I suppose the takeaway is: at the end of the day, I just wish we could all stop conveniently naming and pretending and applying euphemisms and have lived with a smidge more awareness of ourselves. I guess it grates me to have to listen to the people that talk to each other and while one rests all they say is "yes" "oh yes" "you know, that's what they say" and then they talk and the other turns into the yes man and by conversation's end no one has actually said anything and no ideas or information has been exchanged. The thing that unnerves me the most is that as personal awareness erodes so does creativity and imagination until the person becomes part of the reciprocating cultural wheel, the ultimate feedback loop, and they're lost as though they never existed.
///Amon Tobin - "Straight Psyche"
In its thinnest guise it is the paternity specials on talk shows and the daily freak shows created from people with actual problems who somehow think taking their children or families on talk shows will provide some kind of lasting solution to whatever it is that ails them on the inside or maybe just to make a buck and get a tv special pitched at them from TLC. In its thicker, more elaborate manifestations it's the two day back to back experience of the "half ton mom" and the expose' on teenage fight club sex parties and alarmist programs highlighting manufactured cultural tensions and real ones.
And I guess I'm just sick of people calling it human interest. Human interest, the term itself, seems to ask a little more of itself than to simply raise emotion and sympathy and "wow" from the viewer. Human interest should denote a desire or interest to view and understand human-ness or humanity. A term as charged as human interest shouldn't stoop to the ridiculous shallows of daytime television for any reason. Human interest should be about introspection and reflection and I guarantee you the people watching human interest stories are as interested in taking in introspection and reflection as a red head at the beach is interested in taking in an afternoon of sun bathing. Having to be around people purporting to enjoy watching human interest stories is like going to a meeting with 30 yes men. All they're doing is soaking up reaffirmation of their pre-existing beliefs. In the end though, I'm sure that's why the shows are on tv. That and to illicit all of the "wows" and "oh my Gods" from the people that are watching purely for the floor show.
Personally I like to take my entertainment from sports arenas and sit coms. Wow, that sounds snooty. You know what, I'm saying it anyway. It only sounds snooty in the context of the ridiculousness of this modern day reversal. So human interest is an enormous farce that people watch so they can say things and feel connected to problems they don't have and feel a conscience they never acknowledge for the other 130 hours of their week and feel reassured that drugs are bad and teens are dangerous and gangs live in every dark corner of every city and know that they're not so bad because "look at the tv, there're worse people than me." So what.
I don't know. I feel dumber for having brought it up. I suppose the takeaway is: at the end of the day, I just wish we could all stop conveniently naming and pretending and applying euphemisms and have lived with a smidge more awareness of ourselves. I guess it grates me to have to listen to the people that talk to each other and while one rests all they say is "yes" "oh yes" "you know, that's what they say" and then they talk and the other turns into the yes man and by conversation's end no one has actually said anything and no ideas or information has been exchanged. The thing that unnerves me the most is that as personal awareness erodes so does creativity and imagination until the person becomes part of the reciprocating cultural wheel, the ultimate feedback loop, and they're lost as though they never existed.
///Amon Tobin - "Straight Psyche"
7/27/10
You've Got To Get Mad
"I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth. Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's no one anywhere that seems to know what to do with us."
Click here to play in new window if video does not play in embedded player.
The first time I heard this monologue was as the lead in to a track by Evol Intent. It's very stirring. In fact the monologue, to me, was so much more intense and meaningful than the token gesturing of the lyrics that followed I wished that, instead of lyrics, they simply allowed more of the monologue to play. The music track is below, synced (not by me) to the visuals. You might have to click through and view it directly on the youtube website if it doesn't play here.
Click thru
Sometimes seeing and hearing things like these and knowing what my own vision is for music and film, I long for a chance to go back in time and make myself put down the calculators and math books and just do the things that came naturally. I wish I could manipulate music and art well enough to create animated films or produce albums or write music. I'm sure I will at some point, but a head start would have been nice.
At any rate, hearing the monologue was so stirring in part because I feel like I am definitely in agreement. I don't think the people being gutted and ground up and swallowed and shat out into darkness in this country need to write to congress or go to sit ins or vote for people that will represent them for five minutes before succumbing (of no fault of their own) to the massive under currents of commercial/industrial pocket padding politics. If people being shafted by the education system would simply express their disappointment, their anger, at being farmed, and express it with a sustained voice and intensity there would be a positive response. Same for people getting shafted in the work place or anywhere else.
The squeaky wheel gets the grease, but so many things really need so much more than a drop of oil. The problem is that people are so content to get their drop of oil, their quick pay off, and then they forget that their problem hasn't been solved. Their problem hasn't even begun to be addressed, but staying angry takes so much effort and why stay angry when you can take your hand job to the bank and buy yourself a big tv and fall asleep again until your conditions become unbearable or swallows another member of your family or short changes you once more.
You've got to get mad, and you've got to be willing and committed enough to stay mad, and that's why I love that song, but I love the monologue even more.
///Amon Tobin - "Verbal (Topo Gigio Remix)" The original song, featuring MC Decimal was good, but this version takes that song and makes it an anytime anywhere "listen to it twice in a row 'cause once is never enough" kind of song. The way the bass comes up and swings and swims around your ears you almost feel like you're lying in a river as wide as lake Ontario heading for a waterfall that crashes against rocks so loudly you can't hear it.
Click here to play in new window if video does not play in embedded player.
The first time I heard this monologue was as the lead in to a track by Evol Intent. It's very stirring. In fact the monologue, to me, was so much more intense and meaningful than the token gesturing of the lyrics that followed I wished that, instead of lyrics, they simply allowed more of the monologue to play. The music track is below, synced (not by me) to the visuals. You might have to click through and view it directly on the youtube website if it doesn't play here.
Click thru
Sometimes seeing and hearing things like these and knowing what my own vision is for music and film, I long for a chance to go back in time and make myself put down the calculators and math books and just do the things that came naturally. I wish I could manipulate music and art well enough to create animated films or produce albums or write music. I'm sure I will at some point, but a head start would have been nice.
At any rate, hearing the monologue was so stirring in part because I feel like I am definitely in agreement. I don't think the people being gutted and ground up and swallowed and shat out into darkness in this country need to write to congress or go to sit ins or vote for people that will represent them for five minutes before succumbing (of no fault of their own) to the massive under currents of commercial/industrial pocket padding politics. If people being shafted by the education system would simply express their disappointment, their anger, at being farmed, and express it with a sustained voice and intensity there would be a positive response. Same for people getting shafted in the work place or anywhere else.
The squeaky wheel gets the grease, but so many things really need so much more than a drop of oil. The problem is that people are so content to get their drop of oil, their quick pay off, and then they forget that their problem hasn't been solved. Their problem hasn't even begun to be addressed, but staying angry takes so much effort and why stay angry when you can take your hand job to the bank and buy yourself a big tv and fall asleep again until your conditions become unbearable or swallows another member of your family or short changes you once more.
You've got to get mad, and you've got to be willing and committed enough to stay mad, and that's why I love that song, but I love the monologue even more.
///Amon Tobin - "Verbal (Topo Gigio Remix)" The original song, featuring MC Decimal was good, but this version takes that song and makes it an anytime anywhere "listen to it twice in a row 'cause once is never enough" kind of song. The way the bass comes up and swings and swims around your ears you almost feel like you're lying in a river as wide as lake Ontario heading for a waterfall that crashes against rocks so loudly you can't hear it.
5/4/10
flat earth round earth
so ive been meaning to read rich dad poor dad. but my current thinking has lead me to believe that whatever is actually in the book itll boil down to flat earth round earth.
flat earth round earth is basically the argument im working on (not really, unless thinking about it all the time can qualify and pass for argument these days. how about monologistifying to myself about. daily. hourly. all right im talking to myself and arguing. there. i said it) but a lot of things fall into the flat earth round earth argument structure. perspectivising. creative writing has ruined my vocabulary. or maybe just english...
so the whole flat earth round earth thing is this: if you live in a world that says the earth is flat you gain nothing from knowing that it is actually round. in fact you would experience increased success and opportunities for success if you at least behaved as though the earth were indeed flat. fast forward to today... the opposite is true but thats only because the consensus is that the world is round.
so where does the modern predicament come in? good question. does a person get farther by fitting into common tracts of experiences? yes. i would argue yes. if your experience is simple to understand in terms that are common to descriptions of experiences in popular media then you do get farther. the more specialized and unique you are the greater your chances for failure.
for a minority of people the devil really is in the details. because they dont fit into common tracts of experience and complications blossom and abound and make progress difficult if not impossible. but in a structured society i guess there is only so much tolerance or should i say "tolerance" for deviation. i.e. if someone has mommy daddy issues, there are only so many kinds of mommy daddy issues covered by common popular experience or media portrayals that will allow people to access, identify, and respond to those specific mommy daddy issues in a meaningful and positive way. when those experiences fall outside those boundaries responses turn negative (like a kid tasting radically different food. their response isnt a like or hate it response as much as it is a unfamiliar [and thus gross] familiar response). when that happens you are living on a round world in a flat universe.
its not that people dont know how to respond as much as it is a response simply is not forth coming that is meaningful or positive (in that meaningful responses are generally posit...) well i just got way too technical. i guess what im trying to say is for every unique world changing personality there are entire country populating amounts of people just as unique or fucked up who will never experience that golden ratio of fucked upness to relatability. thats what im trying to say. flat earth round earth.
basically im seeing life in 4 dimensions and i somehow need to get back to one. enter chemicals.
but before i go, rich dad poor dad. that book. in that book i believe i will read about how planning and temperament and education and savings and taking a longer perspective in general will make a rich dad and that rich dads make rich kids who become rich dads... but i severely doubt that i will read anything that will turn poor dads into rich dads. not that poor dads would know what to do with money to begin with (an argument for another time) buuut rich dad poor dad is basically flat earth round earth framed around money instead of human experience.i think. i assume. possibly. i dunno
i just do not know. im never going to read that book.
the measure of information i know for certain i could probably write in one sentence. that information is coming soon. one sentence. next post. promise.
///amon tobin - "el wraith" twisting turning gripping my brain till it pops into two pieces and then four and then eight and then sixteen and then five minutes and fifty nine seconds are gone and im back to seeing me.
flat earth round earth is basically the argument im working on (not really, unless thinking about it all the time can qualify and pass for argument these days. how about monologistifying to myself about. daily. hourly. all right im talking to myself and arguing. there. i said it) but a lot of things fall into the flat earth round earth argument structure. perspectivising. creative writing has ruined my vocabulary. or maybe just english...
so the whole flat earth round earth thing is this: if you live in a world that says the earth is flat you gain nothing from knowing that it is actually round. in fact you would experience increased success and opportunities for success if you at least behaved as though the earth were indeed flat. fast forward to today... the opposite is true but thats only because the consensus is that the world is round.
so where does the modern predicament come in? good question. does a person get farther by fitting into common tracts of experiences? yes. i would argue yes. if your experience is simple to understand in terms that are common to descriptions of experiences in popular media then you do get farther. the more specialized and unique you are the greater your chances for failure.
for a minority of people the devil really is in the details. because they dont fit into common tracts of experience and complications blossom and abound and make progress difficult if not impossible. but in a structured society i guess there is only so much tolerance or should i say "tolerance" for deviation. i.e. if someone has mommy daddy issues, there are only so many kinds of mommy daddy issues covered by common popular experience or media portrayals that will allow people to access, identify, and respond to those specific mommy daddy issues in a meaningful and positive way. when those experiences fall outside those boundaries responses turn negative (like a kid tasting radically different food. their response isnt a like or hate it response as much as it is a unfamiliar [and thus gross] familiar response). when that happens you are living on a round world in a flat universe.
its not that people dont know how to respond as much as it is a response simply is not forth coming that is meaningful or positive (in that meaningful responses are generally posit...) well i just got way too technical. i guess what im trying to say is for every unique world changing personality there are entire country populating amounts of people just as unique or fucked up who will never experience that golden ratio of fucked upness to relatability. thats what im trying to say. flat earth round earth.
basically im seeing life in 4 dimensions and i somehow need to get back to one. enter chemicals.
but before i go, rich dad poor dad. that book. in that book i believe i will read about how planning and temperament and education and savings and taking a longer perspective in general will make a rich dad and that rich dads make rich kids who become rich dads... but i severely doubt that i will read anything that will turn poor dads into rich dads. not that poor dads would know what to do with money to begin with (an argument for another time) buuut rich dad poor dad is basically flat earth round earth framed around money instead of human experience.i think. i assume. possibly. i dunno
i just do not know. im never going to read that book.
the measure of information i know for certain i could probably write in one sentence. that information is coming soon. one sentence. next post. promise.
///amon tobin - "el wraith" twisting turning gripping my brain till it pops into two pieces and then four and then eight and then sixteen and then five minutes and fifty nine seconds are gone and im back to seeing me.
4/12/10
this is why everyone at your job hates you
yes. ive narrowed it down:
you're a nagger.
and you're so used to sighs of exasperation that it is now how you actually breath regardless of the situational context.
case in point: you rebuffed me for my kitchen practices. i told you that its a bit ridiculous to do so being that ive been washing other peoples dishes since i could reach a sink and could understand that getting beaten was worse than washing dishes every night. then i told you no one has gotten sick from anything ive done in the kitchen. then i told you i would do it your way anyway, and aside i finished the thought with: since i really have no say in this niggling matter anyway.
you, two days later, come up to me on my way to the kitchen where i spend large chunks of my days making your meals and still washing your dishes say that you spoke to my father about the washing thing and handling meat and he said that i dont know when people have been sick. and he was sick just recently on his day off.
of course you dont understand that PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO EAT METAMUCIL EVERYDAY are probably going to have issues with their shitting. and people WHO DONT EAT VEGETABLES ON A REGULAR BASIS will be prone to getting the shits from all the fats and meat by products and processed meats and sugars and greasy sauces THEY SUCK DOWN CONSTANTLY.
but now in your mind clearly my kitchen practices are to blame and you just wanted to take me aside and tell me that after i already told you i would change how i was doing things to accomodate your concerns.
really now.
and then you expect me to believe that every single day when you come home whining about how everyone at work seems out to get you fired its because that some how your nagging, last-wording, exasper-sighing, mole-hill-mountaining, just-cant-sleep-at-night-knowing-someone-thinks-im-wrong self that haunts the house is somehow different from the person showing up at work?
no. not possible. that is why everyone at your job hates you. you've done it so much you dont even realize your doing it anymore.
no one wants to work with the equivalent of marge simpson crossed with the analytical skills of al bundy and the ego of tim the toolman tailor.
///amon tobin - "big furry head" listening to her talk, i can feel my mind trying to bend itself into understanding what is motivating her to say and do the things she is saying and doing and it bends and bends until it cracks in two and clumps of my brain gush out of the side of my head like wet cotton candy, pureed spam, and chewed gum and then the world spins like a top at the edge of a table before flinging itself down around me.
you're a nagger.
and you're so used to sighs of exasperation that it is now how you actually breath regardless of the situational context.
case in point: you rebuffed me for my kitchen practices. i told you that its a bit ridiculous to do so being that ive been washing other peoples dishes since i could reach a sink and could understand that getting beaten was worse than washing dishes every night. then i told you no one has gotten sick from anything ive done in the kitchen. then i told you i would do it your way anyway, and aside i finished the thought with: since i really have no say in this niggling matter anyway.
you, two days later, come up to me on my way to the kitchen where i spend large chunks of my days making your meals and still washing your dishes say that you spoke to my father about the washing thing and handling meat and he said that i dont know when people have been sick. and he was sick just recently on his day off.
of course you dont understand that PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO EAT METAMUCIL EVERYDAY are probably going to have issues with their shitting. and people WHO DONT EAT VEGETABLES ON A REGULAR BASIS will be prone to getting the shits from all the fats and meat by products and processed meats and sugars and greasy sauces THEY SUCK DOWN CONSTANTLY.
but now in your mind clearly my kitchen practices are to blame and you just wanted to take me aside and tell me that after i already told you i would change how i was doing things to accomodate your concerns.
really now.
and then you expect me to believe that every single day when you come home whining about how everyone at work seems out to get you fired its because that some how your nagging, last-wording, exasper-sighing, mole-hill-mountaining, just-cant-sleep-at-night-knowing-someone-thinks-im-wrong self that haunts the house is somehow different from the person showing up at work?
no. not possible. that is why everyone at your job hates you. you've done it so much you dont even realize your doing it anymore.
no one wants to work with the equivalent of marge simpson crossed with the analytical skills of al bundy and the ego of tim the toolman tailor.
///amon tobin - "big furry head" listening to her talk, i can feel my mind trying to bend itself into understanding what is motivating her to say and do the things she is saying and doing and it bends and bends until it cracks in two and clumps of my brain gush out of the side of my head like wet cotton candy, pureed spam, and chewed gum and then the world spins like a top at the edge of a table before flinging itself down around me.
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