I'll start with the last one first before I forget because I already forgot once and it took a good 15 to remember and even then it was only because I started thinking about shapes and cut outs of construction paper and slicing bottles in half that I remembered Venn diagrams and then remembered it was a comparison thing, but I'm rambling so let's get down to it. I was wondering where my, sometimes extreme, self centeredness comes from. It does get pretty extreme sometimes. Not to the point where my megalomaniacal, world beater, delusions kick in and I walk all over people thinking they're throwing themselves down there, when in fact, I'm going out of my way to haul them to the ground by their napes so I don't have to touch pavement on my way from my bed to my toilet. Pavement? Yeah because my house will be so huge I will have a second house that is only an enormous bathroom with three floors. The first floor is the pee paradise and waterpark, the second floor is the bath house with every kind of possible bath or shower or steam you can take, including swimming pools, and the basement is the boom box where you can shit in peace featuring every kind of toilet known to man. Sometimes my self centeredness gets out of control though.
To the point where I believe whatever difficult experience I'm going through is not only the greatest problem mankind has ever faced, but the first iteration ever of that difficulty. I get so into myself that if everyone I know isn't asking me what happened or if I'm okay or petting my ruffled feathers they must be blind and stone deaf. But that's not the case. It's not even that it's particularly easy to take up arms and march to the point of attack and scream like the hound of hell "life's not fair!" It's not. Everyone knows it. What are you going to do about you? It gets out of control. And there's nothing I hate more than "who's had it harder" pissing contests. Everyone has and everyone hasn't. Which discomfort do you prefer and at what intensity, becomes the more pressing question. To put it another way, how comfortable are you here versus there.
The most important thing is the "why". Why so far focused inward? What I've come to is hyper focus or big world little world. The world is huge. The world is daunting. The world is not as violent or angry as we make it appear. The anger and violence is just what sticks because you don't come out of a hug with welts and scars, but you do if you're at odds. Violence is the first language and love is violence's child. The branches from the trunk above the roots. Because life has the ability to scar at random and will, and sometimes in love, it is scary. Do you want those scars? That chance? "Is today the day something comes apart and I die?" You stay in for protection. That protection turns into faith. That faith turns into mania. And I close off opportunities for both danger and expansion until I am walled in and have every detail of the compound mapped to a square inch and where every potential threat to my existence stands and where it ranks and then I am stacking pee jars against one wall and logging days against another and getting lung infections and passing out from lack of oxygen because I've sealed myself in a space where air can never circulate. The second part is the crux of big world little world.
Determinism. If it was possible to plot every persons geographic location to a tee and, at some point map out all of the possible outcomes of each persons interactions you could, fairly accurately, play out every persons life from birth to death with some outliers and random pop ups of paths that skewed due to chance and freak probability and I guess quantum mechanical (insert longer lettered science terms and statistics) that make it impossible to do anything with 100% accuracy. But you'd have a pretty reliable, maybe down to ninety nine million out of one hundred million person type of accuracy. Or just look at family tree deaths. You've maybe got a shot at beating the over under, but by how many years? A decade? Two? How hard can you or would you want to torture who you are to get those years. What are you going to do with them? Sit in a wheel chair? Enjoy the massive stress of drastically increasing the chances you'll die putting on your slipper at the side of your bed and slip and fall and fracture your femur and die from the massive infection after surgery? Danger world becomes a lot more dangerous up there. That aside, the determinism factor also drives me inward at 300 pounds per square inch. Determinism is boring. Sure there can be a joy in choosing a path having a pretty solid understanding of where it can and probably will go. Even in small choices, but when the map increases in size and grows to world scope, I see that I am a very small bit of the circuit and no matter which paths I choose I am not going to cover any more ground than those dimensions... unless some other path comes in from outside my circuit and selects me. Pretty much, your circuit is printed at birth. And that is boring and difficult to live with.
However there is no saying you can't shrink the map. The smaller you make it, the more random it appears. The more random it appears the more beautiful each day becomes. Each day begins to hold actual surprises beyond what randomness you can try to choose to inject. Point to point, you can zoom in along the path and detour at will if you so choose to do, but the destination still looms and will be reached barring sudden death of some sort. You know what your ceiling is, you learn your floor, and at some point you understand what your potential is for exceeding them and the costs involved. There is no rule that says you can't shrink that map to the scale where measuring something changes it's properties. And that's where I find myself sometimes. My map shrinks to the point where everything that happens is truly random to my perspective and in that vastly shrunken world I know that I exist and the people around me are almost shadows, coming into and out of focus with a rarity that is extraordinarily delicious and I forget that I am not the only one walking the face of the earth. Nobody but me. NOBD BTME. Sometimes I have to have it though or I will never leave my front door again.
Pride complex is another thing. An entirely different animal to learn to stop feeding. My world once was a world of "no"s. To the point where the energy expended in asking the question was not worth the energy expended recovering from the disappointment. A universe of broken contracts. You can't do that because this. You can't do that because that. You can't do this because you're too this. You can't do that because you're too that. I got fed up, but not in a hurry. It built up over the years and I didn't digest it well and I'm sure some of the reasons were fairly valid, if not entirely truthful. Still, it's like telling someone to not get mad when you're about to give them bad news. Nurtured inside was pride complex. I can't do it? Watch me. Not doing it for them, but doing it for myself, and it started off small and then blew grotesquely out of proportion. Coupling with megalomania it began to beg how far could you really jump if you really really tried?
How far was too far? I can stick it. Fuck it, you're trying to say I can't? Okay, watch this right here. And it bloomed gorgeous. More. And it bloomed gorgeous. But what are you really capable of? Pride complex has ruled me and I it in waves of awesome sorrow and awed joy. There is nothing that beats that high of putting your ten toes on the ground on the other side of a leap of faith in your bones and grit. The only things you can rely on sometimes. The things that never let you down. It is, however, damaging. You become arrogant. A soft, passive, arrogance that tells me no matter what comes down the pipe I will, I will!, be able to handle it with this body and this mind on this island. It and I will head into the woods and only I am returning. The belief will insist, but anyone with any one of their five senses knows there is no way in hell you are coming back. Anyone with any sense in the world knows your odds and that you've put the entire stack on something that breaks good once in five years and there are a lot of hours and minutes to go. I don't see it on my scale because everything is possible there to a fault.
Pride complex kicks in. I need pills? Fuck you, you need pills. Watch me go. I need money? Hell no. Watch me destroy myself solving this, but damn you, I will fucking solve this. Pride complex branches out like ivy. It infects things like blood cancer. Don't want to help me do this? Okay I'll do it without you. But that is not always and many times not the stance to take for many a several reasons I won't go into. Pride complex doesn't only damage the self. It has a fallout radius. Pride complex damages a persons ability to make adjustments. It damages a persons ability to integrate and coexist with society. It damages a persons ability to integrate. It pretty much harms society as a whole.
Yes you are going from A to B, but as you traverse the map and make your choices, your piece of the circuit board begins to function less and less successfully to the point where other pieces of the board have to compensate harder to function as well. When you are offered assistance, for whatever rationalization the assistance is offered, it is in the interest of keeping the entire computer running. Sometimes it's difficult to appreciate that. Sometimes it's difficult to appreciate that this setup or that is there specifically to make everyone's lives easier to a degree, but that degree is there and measurable and quantifiable in every nervous action or choice the people with greater numbers of points A and B and area to cover and allotted (if you take too broad a path from A to B and B to C and on and on, as many points as you are allotted when born there are consequences out of your control. a path selecting you) make. Your space is governed by their space.
Understanding that is one thing. Dismantling delusions of grandeur is another. Growing a map is another. Are they good things? Are they necessary? Should they even have to be? I want to roam wild. Yessir I do. Life's not fair. I'm not on this planet with you. You're on this planet with me. Control. Take what you want, but understand where it comes from. I love you.
///Band of Skulls - "Fires"
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 boredom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boredom. Show all posts
5/19/11
Universal Bodies
I had this thought today while running off to make lunch before 6 P.M. rolled around. It was kind of an irrational thought, so rationale being what it is and people being who they are, I had to go back over it and rationalize it or at least understand why my first compunction was this "wait, what a minute" moment.
Beginning, I thought that I had to figure out why making lunch before six was such a big deal. My own busted food schedule aside, I figure it would probably help the rest of my body organize itself if I did adhere more closely to a strict three ring circus of various food stuffs and the thought of organizing that part of myself lead me to lean toward thinking that further organization would probably bleed from that, through my mouth and then back out of my mouth again into positive work gains. Too technical. Losing interest. Start over.
What struck me was (without all the junk that lead up to it) that the spacing of meals is pretty much universally accepted. You eat when you wake up because you haven't eaten while you were sleeping. You eat around the middle of your day because you've been doing stuff and were probably too busy to cut something up, jam a stick from it's gullet to it's anus and throw it over a spit, or gather something, or you haven't eaten since you got up because it's taken you all day to find and kill enough somethings to skewer, fill a basket (and your tummy), or snag in a net of some sort. Then you eat again before you go to sleep because after you ate earlier you had to do other things that made you tired and things that make you tired also tend to make you hungry and you don't want to be kept awake by the sound of your stomach digesting itself.
So by and large everybody eats a few times a day because when you're not an animal with a stomach that can digest anything (fresh, rotten, bones, pure cellulose, tree bark, whatever) it takes energy to pick and choose and being able to pick and choose and possessing delicate (by comparison) faculties also means you have to spend the time and energy to do so and protect your fragile microcosm. It's easy to understand.
In rushing to make lunch I realized that it doesn't matter what you call it or why. Your body knows what's up. You can cram food into your face at 7 P.M. if you want, but your body knows that what it's eating should actually be dinner and will be processed as such. Your mind can convince you that you should eat again before you go to bed, but depending on what you ate you probably shouldn't and your body knows that. You can make breakfast at dinner time, but it's still, in principle, dinner, no matter what you want to call it. Granted it is all bound by your sleep cycle, so if you sleep for ten hours whatever you eat in the three equidistant spaces of the next fourteen hours will be breakfast lunch and dinner. And that's important. So I guess it wasn't as horribly irrational as I originally thought. If I missed the lunch window I would be feeding myself an extremely early dinner and would run the risk of having to eat again before bed and wake up not hungry enough to eat breakfast and basically start on the slippery slope of a digestive apocalypse. Gastrocalypse, I call it.
Then I started thinking about how simple it is to understand something as universal as why and when people eat and it really got my goat that people can understand the need to put food in their mouths, but they can't understand something else as equally simple and universal as basic human rights. Or maybe human rights are not as simple as eating. Oh wait they are. If you deprive someone of food, you should be able to understand what that deprivation does to you and by extension what it likely does to another object of similar mechanical and chemical make up and necessities even if you don't count that object as a person. I mean if kicking a dog with the wrong part of your foot hurts your foot a little, you should be able to assume that a dog, made out of similar material as you, probably felt it too. Not that I would ever kick a dog. I love dogs. Slightly more than people sometimes.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's baffling the body of things that are universally understood and the body of things that are still, however many generations and iterations of human beings later, up for debate and challenged and I don't think that my own work will help to make those things that should be universally understood about the collective human organism and illustrated and painted and constructed about it will help to further clarify or cement those universals. My body of work to date is teeny tiny, though larger than it's ever been, and if I want to help (and I do, just a little) I have to not die yet. I'm in the first few thousand hours of work toward mastery well enough to make clear every attempt at expression and the induction of clarity and there's still work to be done if people are going to eat three meals a day with any kind of universality.
Slightly selfishly, if I were to die, I feel like I would be ashamed of my body of work. I feel today like I've only begun to fill a thimble and I need several buckets if I'm ever going to put out the fire inside me, let alone across the borders and city limits of my body's ends.
///Susumu Hirasawa - "Condition Boy" ...delusions of an alternate and terribly grand universe are
Beginning, I thought that I had to figure out why making lunch before six was such a big deal. My own busted food schedule aside, I figure it would probably help the rest of my body organize itself if I did adhere more closely to a strict three ring circus of various food stuffs and the thought of organizing that part of myself lead me to lean toward thinking that further organization would probably bleed from that, through my mouth and then back out of my mouth again into positive work gains. Too technical. Losing interest. Start over.
What struck me was (without all the junk that lead up to it) that the spacing of meals is pretty much universally accepted. You eat when you wake up because you haven't eaten while you were sleeping. You eat around the middle of your day because you've been doing stuff and were probably too busy to cut something up, jam a stick from it's gullet to it's anus and throw it over a spit, or gather something, or you haven't eaten since you got up because it's taken you all day to find and kill enough somethings to skewer, fill a basket (and your tummy), or snag in a net of some sort. Then you eat again before you go to sleep because after you ate earlier you had to do other things that made you tired and things that make you tired also tend to make you hungry and you don't want to be kept awake by the sound of your stomach digesting itself.
So by and large everybody eats a few times a day because when you're not an animal with a stomach that can digest anything (fresh, rotten, bones, pure cellulose, tree bark, whatever) it takes energy to pick and choose and being able to pick and choose and possessing delicate (by comparison) faculties also means you have to spend the time and energy to do so and protect your fragile microcosm. It's easy to understand.
In rushing to make lunch I realized that it doesn't matter what you call it or why. Your body knows what's up. You can cram food into your face at 7 P.M. if you want, but your body knows that what it's eating should actually be dinner and will be processed as such. Your mind can convince you that you should eat again before you go to bed, but depending on what you ate you probably shouldn't and your body knows that. You can make breakfast at dinner time, but it's still, in principle, dinner, no matter what you want to call it. Granted it is all bound by your sleep cycle, so if you sleep for ten hours whatever you eat in the three equidistant spaces of the next fourteen hours will be breakfast lunch and dinner. And that's important. So I guess it wasn't as horribly irrational as I originally thought. If I missed the lunch window I would be feeding myself an extremely early dinner and would run the risk of having to eat again before bed and wake up not hungry enough to eat breakfast and basically start on the slippery slope of a digestive apocalypse. Gastrocalypse, I call it.
Then I started thinking about how simple it is to understand something as universal as why and when people eat and it really got my goat that people can understand the need to put food in their mouths, but they can't understand something else as equally simple and universal as basic human rights. Or maybe human rights are not as simple as eating. Oh wait they are. If you deprive someone of food, you should be able to understand what that deprivation does to you and by extension what it likely does to another object of similar mechanical and chemical make up and necessities even if you don't count that object as a person. I mean if kicking a dog with the wrong part of your foot hurts your foot a little, you should be able to assume that a dog, made out of similar material as you, probably felt it too. Not that I would ever kick a dog. I love dogs. Slightly more than people sometimes.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's baffling the body of things that are universally understood and the body of things that are still, however many generations and iterations of human beings later, up for debate and challenged and I don't think that my own work will help to make those things that should be universally understood about the collective human organism and illustrated and painted and constructed about it will help to further clarify or cement those universals. My body of work to date is teeny tiny, though larger than it's ever been, and if I want to help (and I do, just a little) I have to not die yet. I'm in the first few thousand hours of work toward mastery well enough to make clear every attempt at expression and the induction of clarity and there's still work to be done if people are going to eat three meals a day with any kind of universality.
Slightly selfishly, if I were to die, I feel like I would be ashamed of my body of work. I feel today like I've only begun to fill a thimble and I need several buckets if I'm ever going to put out the fire inside me, let alone across the borders and city limits of my body's ends.
///Susumu Hirasawa - "Condition Boy" ...delusions of an alternate and terribly grand universe are
1/9/10
so i dont have to fucking talk to myself
well we're back. again. a lot has changed. a lot has stayed the same. no more girl friend, just friend who does not want to talk to me for the depth of our former relationship. yay. sarcasm. living in a very divisive... divided place. pretty sure this is gonna be the last fracture for the parents. fine. seems life is defined by fractures and scars. its a matter of whether or not we want to call them sentimental or call them scars.
so im back on here. so i dont have to fucking talk to myself in my head. nothing good is ever said in there. there are good ideas but they are formed by me. nothing good ever happens in the other dialog. and i hate having to sit and listen to it. eventually you cant distinguish who is telling who to shut the fuck up.
the hardest part about stabbing is the initial shock of breaking the skin. i mean not slashing but stabbing. once you get past that the rest is gravy. or gory. gory gravy? different tools for different jobs. so what do we want to talk about today. im not sure... well lets kick off with projects. where is the other project standing. suspended indefinitely apparently. how about the other project... still working on it? yes. slowly. the third project? when free time strikes so shall it strike me to work on it. half the time. double promise. which actually only means that both promises are half as strong as a regular promise. too much glue spoils the joint. any model builder worth his oats should know that.
any other goals? saving. money. 4000. settle all person to person debts and move somewhere and pay two months rent and find a job. that is all. thats all? yes. i think. i hate you. anything else new? stop burning bridges. setting a fire and walking away is not necessarily burning a bridge. they dont all rage out into holocausts. but you certainly believe they do. paranoia? hardly. okay. buying cigarettes? dunno yet. maybe later. cya.
///bjork - "i miss you (sunshine mix)" yeah i do. its too often difficult to explain, but this time its simple. i like you better than i like me. just that easy.
so im back on here. so i dont have to fucking talk to myself in my head. nothing good is ever said in there. there are good ideas but they are formed by me. nothing good ever happens in the other dialog. and i hate having to sit and listen to it. eventually you cant distinguish who is telling who to shut the fuck up.
the hardest part about stabbing is the initial shock of breaking the skin. i mean not slashing but stabbing. once you get past that the rest is gravy. or gory. gory gravy? different tools for different jobs. so what do we want to talk about today. im not sure... well lets kick off with projects. where is the other project standing. suspended indefinitely apparently. how about the other project... still working on it? yes. slowly. the third project? when free time strikes so shall it strike me to work on it. half the time. double promise. which actually only means that both promises are half as strong as a regular promise. too much glue spoils the joint. any model builder worth his oats should know that.
any other goals? saving. money. 4000. settle all person to person debts and move somewhere and pay two months rent and find a job. that is all. thats all? yes. i think. i hate you. anything else new? stop burning bridges. setting a fire and walking away is not necessarily burning a bridge. they dont all rage out into holocausts. but you certainly believe they do. paranoia? hardly. okay. buying cigarettes? dunno yet. maybe later. cya.
///bjork - "i miss you (sunshine mix)" yeah i do. its too often difficult to explain, but this time its simple. i like you better than i like me. just that easy.
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