Friday, June 23, 2017

Anticipatory Gestures

Overall the project of the class is to create an institution. Part of the institution is its material life, and the form of this, for the class, I want to be a manual.

A long time ago, I had thought my dissertation was going to become a work showing how to take two ways of thinking about probabilities and imagined consequences, the Monty Hall problem and Pascal's Wager, and fully integrating their logics under a particular kind of concept: the parafinite. Religion, for me, became a matter of opening doors into universes and worlds I had no idea existed and yet were the TRUTH, but in order to arrive in this particular way of feeling and/or being TRUTH, you had to get there through assent/consent and following consistently and insistently the actual, historical and/or in-the-past-existing of your particular way's way. To say it smoother, you become who you are by following whatever random course got you where you are now, without understanding any of it until it's nearly too late. And, even then, when you made what you think was the right choice, you still have to see out the consequences until the end. That means you will come back and forth on what you think was right until you get it. And then you're past that and already into the new indecisions, the new doubts.

This is what I had seen, in so many places, because it was the story of my own life and the story of so many other people, whom I notice because my cipher chose this. If my cipher had not made that decision, but instead made some other decisions, in some worlds I am already king of Mars and in others I am just an outline of chance possibilities. I cannot control what my cipher chooses, but I have started to understand and notice that we can choose our ciphers.

And each of them really do make changes in what you can see, what you experience, who you become, who chooses you.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Schizosophy 2

It's been a while since I've written something philosophical. Most of it is mystical.

At this point, I am unable to really understand myself apart from the limitations imposed upon my sense of self by the English language, the only language I know how to write and think and speak in. Other languages I get to much lesser degrees. But English has taken me pretty far, just not far enough as I now get is out there. And all the rest of my self that goes past language, it's forever inaccessible to me once my self-understanding becomes too rigid, too constrained, particularly within the one language.

Surfaces

A splash from a fish landing back into its lake
A gouge where a foot planted and twisted to keep a man down
A scratch where graphite sharpened to a point makes memory

A whisp of cloud separated from the host now twisting
A bruise where veins ruptured from pressure and wrenching
A smile beneath falling hair yet above an abyss endless with imagination

A music just so slightly cast about by fans
A scab closing up skin from beneficial but clumsy piercing
A yawning peaceful release from reality and memory giving joy through one's hands

Glances are not stares
Focus is not appreciation
Beholding is not passive

Dancing is permissible
Wrestling is inevitable
Struggling in the tension
Balance in the sway

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

The Dragon and The Cat

The Dragon speaks in the Language of the Making
No Cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.

Both have their 'good' and 'bad' reasons for how they speak.
Both have their 'good' and 'evil' reasons for how they act.

Both share a refusal for reduplication, but a penchant for eccentric cycles.
They swerve in and among legs and trees, hideaways and sheaves.

The Dragon spreads out his wings. He has never felt his wings so large as this.
The Cat spreads out her limbs. She has found that moment to nap before the hunt.

I could never redo something exactly the same way.
Even if I loved doing it, and wanted to recapture it,
it came out different, frunged, smudged, out of bounds
like a persistent nervous shaking beneath everything
or a kid jumbling the puzzle pieces to start over
all over my whole body and air around me
so that nothing ever happens
the way I liked it
but instead always ever happens
the way it is itself

They both get this about me,
but they both take advantage of it, too

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

hidden gems


A scene from Jem and the Holograms, S1E14: "The Music Awards: Pt. 2" written by Christy Marx.


Monday, June 12, 2017

ode to a dying god

hold still, there's still some time . . .

what if your god when you first met
was just a child, a stranger who set
down with you and soon you find
that he destroys it all, mess so fine
you cannot do anything but pick
him up and hold him and then he
goes and dies and says goodbyes
and shrivels up a teenager
staring into any light who grabs him
dancing away his brilliance
in other demigod stars

what if your god dies
in your arms at night softly
with no hiccups and coughs
just lying there, slight spasm
you feel inside, you cannot help
since your god made you to feel her
dying all the time

what if your god teaches you
there's a secret to the game
what if your god teaches you
there's no name behind the name
what if your god teaches you
that dying's all the same
what if your god teaches you
how to leave the game

like he did

like you must

for the long last slow
goodbye into goodnight
is how you suffer eternity
as one falls into a black hole

only, you will see yourself from outside
and you will freeze in eternity surrounded
in flames and images of your last mistakes before
judgment day wipes you away from trace and
all these nothing-but-sand-bars

what if your god as an adult
from your future coming backwards into you
teaches you the real meaning of

good bye

and

hell oh

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Epiphany

Dynamic tension
Parafinite expansion
Scales of reality
Self-destruction
Autochthonic life
"mole my totem"
Sexual difference
Walking in the woods
Everything is Nothing
Backwards forwarding
The long shadow
Hope is not faith, but greater than both is love.

I am not the Author of my life, on this side.
I am the Author of my life, on the other side.

On the other side, I am not the Author of my life.
On this side, I am the Author of my life.

There is a Tower in my mind, in the distance
I am coming to it closer and closer, every day
come along and take a ride
it's alright
baby, it's all right
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