To say that something exists is more than declaring its name or what type of thing it is. "There exists an X such that:" declares the type of x, and does little more than to propel a named object into one's scope. It's a Western type of statement, and presupposes a flat and drab kind of nonexistence. Mathematics took the first step by the synthesis of categories, but it has to go further, and the place to start with is categories, or more generally speaking the fundamental abstraction, whether sets, string-manipulation rules, formal systems, functions, sets, categories, you name it, we have a method of apprehending it. Fundamentals questions become ascendancy questions about ascendancy and primacy become and are subject to the ebb and flow of history.
And thus there's an ever growing jungle of metaphors and abstractions. In Saunders MacLane's Categories for a Working Mathematician, he says something along the lines that Kan extensions subsume all other metaphors, and I wonder if those reaching that point of the book get a little misty eyed and angry. It's akin to saying that you've got the answer to the question "what is?", intransitively. "What is?" "What exists?" "Who is?", and such intransitive questions leave you wanting some kind of conclusive network terminus, a node that envelops all other nodes. Such a thing does not exist in the way that you usually concieve of existence.
In category theory, the key bit to grasp is that the objects of categories aren't fundamental, but byproducts of the links. An object is said to exist within a given context if and only if there are relations between that object and objects already within that context. Whatever kind of abstraction or metaphor that your particular place's location is working on, it's working with a certain flavor of reasoning on some specified kind of object, beyond which it is impossible to speculate about the internal properties of that object, because the abstraction barriers imposed by that particular flavor of reasoning prevent such speculation. Given a flavor of reasoning, and a fundamental abstraction, it is impossible to speak beyond that abstraction. Every flavor of reasoning is limited, because it has a context which is home to it. Beyond and outside of that context, one isn't able to reason, or speak of anything. Depending on the degree of intentionality of the casting of the particular net in question, and the degree to which the shore of the network drifts (the tide), there is a varying amount of information which analysis will be able to provide.
The honky tonk train of analysis, of religion, of biology, of any abstraction, of your faith, of your logic, will only take you so far. What it may give you is true, up to its network-inhabitancy. Beyond that, there are numerous and nonunique itineraries beyond. But those are in the Tumbolia, which is not apprisable by navigation. Objects will condense from tathata/Tumbolia and remain around for a time, then dissolve into the invisible torrent.
Of the unutterable and inexpressible, I can and cannot speak. We stand, looking for coherence outward. Coherence is the modern form of consistency. Whereas the old bugaboo was consistency, the new bugaboo is coherence. Every metaphor-perspective will have its bugaboo: it's "avoid this, it gives me a headache". The clarion trumpet calls "Consistency!", "Coherence!", "Conhedroncy"! and so forth and so on. For every system of reasoning, there exists an impassible mire where its capacities become like iridescent purple froth weaving on the wind. Category theory, lambda calculus, set theory, and so forth and so on. Each one of these particular metaphor systems, including the one which this argument is being presented, have a statement or idea or concept which within them is valid, but is not possible to reach using their internal languages/transformation schema. The drive here is that we seek the kind of mental objects/structures which are as portable as possible. The allure of portable mental objects is that they require less bullying to convince other people to concieve of them. It's their vivid consistency between their instances in separate people's minds which induces our concern with them. Likewise, we're turned off by non-portable mental objects: the ravings and beliefs of a lunatic, for instance, or of what we consider demented or idiotic people thumping their chests at us because we believe something they find inconsistent with their belief system. Anyone solidly on one or another side on such a debate is being inflexible.
Monday, November 06, 2006
semantic tensors
A tensor is a device which physicists and mathematicians use when they want to represent a quantity or bunch of quantities which retain their values or some other kind of invariant under a transformation of coordinates. Therefore, a semantic tensor is a device that semantic engineers or the Jane on the street use when they want to represent a meme in an interpretation-invariant way. An important thing to consider about semantic tensors is that they are related to, but different from, encryption. Encryption, on the whole, doesn't take into account those who use it: that is to say, that encryption requires a knowledgeable person applying the decryption, or an unintelligent person with just enough understanding of the encryption algorithm. In any case, the two are bound by a certain amount of having-one's-head-screwed-on-properly. But it isn't possible to make a normative gloss of this: which is to say that there's not one canonical way to agree on who has their head screwed on correctly: in a world with diverse amount of intellectual activity there are going to be a wide variety of people, and as a result, brainy people will entertain a variety of opinions. You can either be explicit about it, like Mensa, or implicit about it, like any number of putative secret societies. In any case, this leaves you with a mess. The way out of this mess is to decide to construct objects which are complicated, and whose complexity is addressible by perceptases: you make an object or thing that is gnarled, and make that gnarl the type of gnarl that you're interested in, realizing that the object is a product (in the category theoretic kind of sense) of variously interpenetrating types of gnarl, and that those whose perception is geared for that kind of gnarl, it will scream out "pay attention to this object" or "this is signal, decode it", and so on and so forth. Ensconced in puzzles, this is the thing which I intend to do. I will make multiply orthogonal high gnarl objects in such a way that each piece of high gnarl decodes to the same thing, and that is how I will create semantic tensors.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
we are swimming in it (new)
I just read Chris Bogart's little connection between category theory and the buddhist doctrine of dependent origination. Talk about convergence, why don't I? I found it by googling for buddhism and category theory. I get the impression that this is fairly new in this scheme of things.
So next I googled for the phrase "dependent origination" and "functor", and got the the following gem. It seems that it's fairly plausible to make translations between Buddhist writings, in particular Nagarjuna, and category-theoretic expressions. The time is ripe for this kind of reasoning. There was the part of Hofstadter's Godel Escher Bach where he talks about Indra's net and Tumbolia just a few pages apart.
So next I googled for the phrase "dependent origination" and "functor", and got the the following gem. It seems that it's fairly plausible to make translations between Buddhist writings, in particular Nagarjuna, and category-theoretic expressions. The time is ripe for this kind of reasoning. There was the part of Hofstadter's Godel Escher Bach where he talks about Indra's net and Tumbolia just a few pages apart.
the sustenance of substance
that deep gray vapor, the infinitely entangled stuff of things, the echoes of distant lands and the fibrillated chances scattered and disperse across the ordovician of reason. the cantankerous flavonoid representative arching her back at you provocatively, beckons for a retelling of a history, a full sensory distillation in complete fidelity of the reasoning in your indranet.
you cannot not dream of reason. they said: "my god, we've been decategorifying for thousands of years, slicing the world hither and yon!", that was a landmark, an anchorhead, a stepping stone, a vertiginous oddilonct on which to extend. First they said: "well, if decategorifying reduces the available information, then ought categorifying not reduce, and perchance augment the available information: not be so destructive."
she smiles at you. the singularities of her irises call billions of histories and thousands of fragmentary moments together, refracted and autologous.
"And the command was a logos reductase, a node synthetase, shining in the anacaustics of Suntorohoa, it said, one thing. A single thing. A topos blurred and forgetful functorases applied until that single thing was contemplated, and then the blurring was recognized. The holotome of one thing is unconnected. It is unstructured. It calls the divinity of every thing. It is a Ne and a Cone and a cocone and a cocoon infinitely entangling us. It is the shell of our Bennett machine and the inescapable context whose shore we cannot percieve. It is the sticky network which forever binds us, it is our slice of indranet. We seek an unfundant infinity in our own reflections amongst, amidst, interpenetrating with, and binding with our indranet. It is the onctopoate in which we imagine impossible and contradictory embedding contexts and scopes for which in their equipoise are the post-onctopoetic dream. You make a-life, and it meditates, quantum computing for you. Unity is the simplest and easiest to grasp holotome imaged as schizotome: that is why mathematics is reliable. But we no longer think of objects as building blocks: they are a machination of our perceptases. A dust which we have labored in vain to blast the cosmos into:
in that dust we have found nothing of note. A double entendre: those who noted nothing understood the shade of tathatadhyana. Those who were concerned about the bricks and mortar of the foundations of the enterprise continued to pound and pound until they found the ONE OBJECT, because they were convinced that what they had could be further decomposed. And keep blasting they do, because the note of nothing rang in them, and they did not have the perceptases available to grok that note. "
she trips over an ambient logical fallacy. "tastes like mechanical grapes.", she says. "polychaetologically speaking, it's a dradge-line stuck on my corpse!"
I pry: "why do you ask?", shadows of fern-circadian rhythms arc gracefully over the desk, in catenaries, not parabolas.
she appraises and apprehends: "Did the bioorrerion just tick?" sliding into the turbulent and slippery and ungraspable sea of thusness.
you cannot not dream of reason. they said: "my god, we've been decategorifying for thousands of years, slicing the world hither and yon!", that was a landmark, an anchorhead, a stepping stone, a vertiginous oddilonct on which to extend. First they said: "well, if decategorifying reduces the available information, then ought categorifying not reduce, and perchance augment the available information: not be so destructive."
she smiles at you. the singularities of her irises call billions of histories and thousands of fragmentary moments together, refracted and autologous.
"And the command was a logos reductase, a node synthetase, shining in the anacaustics of Suntorohoa, it said, one thing. A single thing. A topos blurred and forgetful functorases applied until that single thing was contemplated, and then the blurring was recognized. The holotome of one thing is unconnected. It is unstructured. It calls the divinity of every thing. It is a Ne and a Cone and a cocone and a cocoon infinitely entangling us. It is the shell of our Bennett machine and the inescapable context whose shore we cannot percieve. It is the sticky network which forever binds us, it is our slice of indranet. We seek an unfundant infinity in our own reflections amongst, amidst, interpenetrating with, and binding with our indranet. It is the onctopoate in which we imagine impossible and contradictory embedding contexts and scopes for which in their equipoise are the post-onctopoetic dream. You make a-life, and it meditates, quantum computing for you. Unity is the simplest and easiest to grasp holotome imaged as schizotome: that is why mathematics is reliable. But we no longer think of objects as building blocks: they are a machination of our perceptases. A dust which we have labored in vain to blast the cosmos into:
in that dust we have found nothing of note. A double entendre: those who noted nothing understood the shade of tathatadhyana. Those who were concerned about the bricks and mortar of the foundations of the enterprise continued to pound and pound until they found the ONE OBJECT, because they were convinced that what they had could be further decomposed. And keep blasting they do, because the note of nothing rang in them, and they did not have the perceptases available to grok that note. "
she trips over an ambient logical fallacy. "tastes like mechanical grapes.", she says. "polychaetologically speaking, it's a dradge-line stuck on my corpse!"
I pry: "why do you ask?", shadows of fern-circadian rhythms arc gracefully over the desk, in catenaries, not parabolas.
she appraises and apprehends: "Did the bioorrerion just tick?" sliding into the turbulent and slippery and ungraspable sea of thusness.
Friday, November 03, 2006
the daily weal: gestalt fealty/membership.
Apparently, I have "trappings of a Hindu", or so my extremely cursory analysis produces. I say "govvorongoa" which goes along with the sounds of the shruti and the gauraunga mantra. I've got the Gayatri mantra somewhat mismemorized. Curiously, with one transposition you'd take my surname and get "Ramesh" which means "ruler of Rama" apparently. I certainly think that I've been pretty close to the ?center? as far as the Hinduism gestalt mediated by the Gayatri mantra goes. By some arguments the differences between Hinduism and Buddhism are low order code cleaves. There is definitely continuity (more easily apprehended) between the centers of both gestalts as considered as schizotomes in holotome. In the same way, I can say I have "trappings of a Buddhist". I eschew religiosity, because it florbs and mires with low level code order comparison failures brought about by a lack of sensory competence (whether willing, desultory, intentional, or otherwise).
Apparently the Hinduism's tantrayama influenced the development of Vajrayana Buddhism.
And I think I've just synthesized a viewpoint which is homomorphic after a fashion to the reincarnationalism, but in a different kind of way. Instead of reincarnation in the sense of having a life that follows yours serially, you kind of live all of your potential lives, specifically yours, at once. You are a energetic coelemated worm which moves through space, eating food, producing waste products. Recognize that you are a worm, a creature that is pretty much moving one-dimensionally and is concerned with one-dimensionalities. You are a gestalt by way of yourself, continually interfering and thusforth. If the gateway to tumbolia is a maturity test, it is the capacity to act as ethically as possible given your circumstances.
Apparently the Hinduism's tantrayama influenced the development of Vajrayana Buddhism.
And I think I've just synthesized a viewpoint which is homomorphic after a fashion to the reincarnationalism, but in a different kind of way. Instead of reincarnation in the sense of having a life that follows yours serially, you kind of live all of your potential lives, specifically yours, at once. You are a energetic coelemated worm which moves through space, eating food, producing waste products. Recognize that you are a worm, a creature that is pretty much moving one-dimensionally and is concerned with one-dimensionalities. You are a gestalt by way of yourself, continually interfering and thusforth. If the gateway to tumbolia is a maturity test, it is the capacity to act as ethically as possible given your circumstances.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
stitching together moments
Scene: a high school classroom.
there are roughly ten students in the classroom. they roughly seventeen or eighteen years old, or so it would seem. there is a teacher.
"Okay, today I'm going to warn you about a soon day. it will be a rude shock, and I know that some of you have vague ideas of what's going to happen. But before I drop the shocker, any guesses?"
one of the students pipe up: "is that 'perceptual reason we're living in a weird type of world' going to be exposed in a shocking way?"
the teacher responds with a "yeah, essentially. what have you non-monkeys figured out? tell you what, get back to me tomorrow"
the bell rings.
(the day passes)
next day
"okay, let's see the presentation!"
Mallory sez: "okay, we've kind of made a list of the things that we consider strange: first of all, none of us has ever needed to go to the bathroom. not even once. second, we eat. it's really mind boggling that we take in food and seem to produce no waste products. what's also weird is that the way that we keep notes is a little weird: most of the papers in our bookbags are about chemistry or mathematics or english or whatever and it just so happens that our notes are what seem like out-of-context doodles here and there. what's odd and we haven't given much thought to is the way the doodles remain but what would putative notes if we were to use the geometrical organization scheme in the textbooks... change. I've watched the notes that I kept about the lecture we had about schizotomes two weeks ago, scattered and indirect in forty pages of putative notes, and those notes have changed, and I haven't given their motion much of a second thought because I've dismissed it as an environmental feature since being a child."
Philgoeff sez: "the way in which we learned language seems to be inconsistent with the things written in the library books, which describe the human language acquisition process. I don't ever recall and my parents insist they didn't start by teaching individual phoneme-grapheme/phoneme-morpheme/morpheme-grapheme associations. What's also weird is that none of us picks up languages in that way. Last night I learned Urdu in an hour, and not from looking at an Urdu dictionary and spending weeks decoding it and being in immersive language tutorial with other Urdu speakers, but I looked at the text and each word pulsed with vague associations, which I knitted into an understanding of the language."
The teacher nods: "Good good. Any conclusions from this?"
Braswalmy sez: "We're certainly not human in the way that the information provided around us seems to indicate that we should be. We've seen movies like /The Matrix/ and /Dark City/, but kind of suspect that whatever embedding context we live in, it's probably something that makes the puerile shenanigans of /The Matrix/ trilogy seem like some wet dream of a power hungry philosophical director-king."
Shellv sez: "And there's the lack of social discontent which seems to be abundant in the student body. For instance, my parents appear to make less than Braswalmy's, yet we seem to have the same kind of semantic character. And what's really irksome is how we're all pretty much astonishingly brilliant without being social morons. You would think than in a sample population of one hundred, there would be some variation in intelligence. And also, what gets me is how we maintain such startlingly diverse personalities without anyone being terribly maladjusted and bitter."
Mel sez: "And why no computers? None of us has access to a computer and the times that we've had access we all kind of report the same thing: when we try to use the network, to communicate to anyone besides ourselves in straightforward langauge, the messages always, invariably, return garbled. Letter writing is circuitous and messy, because we're also writing in doodles and sketches and not directly."
The Teacher nods. "Okay, okay. very good. That's not surprising. Okay: the lowdown: you are not quite primates in the same way that your environment suggests. The embedding context is not one produced on a computer or even a massively parallel array of computers. You are the fifty thousandth lamina of native humans -- that is to say that you were born here as opposed to being brought here by request and then embedded within this context. The embedding context is within the mind of what is called a Glial intelligence. This is a research station, whose focus is on the affairs of pan-african migrations in the early twenty first century on terbium exports from Portugal. Not all of you may find that interesting or nifty. It is likely that some of you will find this disinteresting or boring, but given your levels of intelligence, and the sensory functions that will be available to you shortly, it's expected that a good proportion of you will choose to remain in this context. Of course, if you find it truly disinteresting, which is certainly possible, then there are options for other contexts and modes of living, which can be discussed with the Glial intelligence at a later date. It's also worthwhile to note that all of you have been bred from fifty thousand gens of people with concerns whose interests have at their epicenter, so there is a greater chance you will find the above mentioned epicenter to be highly interesting."
jaws dropping, eyes, wide.
"It's also notable that the sensorium which you have been occupying is kind of stitched together from other people's lives. At every moment these people are concievably making pretty much every morpheme, and the glial intelligence stitches those moments together for us. There is more that the glial intelligence can do for you, but that requires a certain degree of maturity you do not yet possess, and that maturity is not something which is available to you given your current level of intelligence. Our existences here are optimized for analysis and thinking time.
Therefore, tomorrow, which will only be a moment for you, will consist of an entire frozen life of one of the individuals whose bodies you are currently existing in splined together versions of.
It will be traumatic. In current time, it will take a day. By four o'clock tomorrow time you will all reach the level of intelligence you currently have. It will be an interesting experience. Undoubtedly the early hours will be somewhat funky, because you won't be able to sense that you're orthogonalizing. You will feel constrained. You will probably end up in the psych ward a number of times. But you are all anchored to this frame. That won't be obvious until you make it to four o'clock. There is a sequence of events which has been choreographed at 4 pm tomorrow which will make the rest of the day make sense. "
"class dismissed"
there are roughly ten students in the classroom. they roughly seventeen or eighteen years old, or so it would seem. there is a teacher.
"Okay, today I'm going to warn you about a soon day. it will be a rude shock, and I know that some of you have vague ideas of what's going to happen. But before I drop the shocker, any guesses?"
one of the students pipe up: "is that 'perceptual reason we're living in a weird type of world' going to be exposed in a shocking way?"
the teacher responds with a "yeah, essentially. what have you non-monkeys figured out? tell you what, get back to me tomorrow"
the bell rings.
(the day passes)
next day
"okay, let's see the presentation!"
Mallory sez: "okay, we've kind of made a list of the things that we consider strange: first of all, none of us has ever needed to go to the bathroom. not even once. second, we eat. it's really mind boggling that we take in food and seem to produce no waste products. what's also weird is that the way that we keep notes is a little weird: most of the papers in our bookbags are about chemistry or mathematics or english or whatever and it just so happens that our notes are what seem like out-of-context doodles here and there. what's odd and we haven't given much thought to is the way the doodles remain but what would putative notes if we were to use the geometrical organization scheme in the textbooks... change. I've watched the notes that I kept about the lecture we had about schizotomes two weeks ago, scattered and indirect in forty pages of putative notes, and those notes have changed, and I haven't given their motion much of a second thought because I've dismissed it as an environmental feature since being a child."
Philgoeff sez: "the way in which we learned language seems to be inconsistent with the things written in the library books, which describe the human language acquisition process. I don't ever recall and my parents insist they didn't start by teaching individual phoneme-grapheme/phoneme-morpheme/morpheme-grapheme associations. What's also weird is that none of us picks up languages in that way. Last night I learned Urdu in an hour, and not from looking at an Urdu dictionary and spending weeks decoding it and being in immersive language tutorial with other Urdu speakers, but I looked at the text and each word pulsed with vague associations, which I knitted into an understanding of the language."
The teacher nods: "Good good. Any conclusions from this?"
Braswalmy sez: "We're certainly not human in the way that the information provided around us seems to indicate that we should be. We've seen movies like /The Matrix/ and /Dark City/, but kind of suspect that whatever embedding context we live in, it's probably something that makes the puerile shenanigans of /The Matrix/ trilogy seem like some wet dream of a power hungry philosophical director-king."
Shellv sez: "And there's the lack of social discontent which seems to be abundant in the student body. For instance, my parents appear to make less than Braswalmy's, yet we seem to have the same kind of semantic character. And what's really irksome is how we're all pretty much astonishingly brilliant without being social morons. You would think than in a sample population of one hundred, there would be some variation in intelligence. And also, what gets me is how we maintain such startlingly diverse personalities without anyone being terribly maladjusted and bitter."
Mel sez: "And why no computers? None of us has access to a computer and the times that we've had access we all kind of report the same thing: when we try to use the network, to communicate to anyone besides ourselves in straightforward langauge, the messages always, invariably, return garbled. Letter writing is circuitous and messy, because we're also writing in doodles and sketches and not directly."
The Teacher nods. "Okay, okay. very good. That's not surprising. Okay: the lowdown: you are not quite primates in the same way that your environment suggests. The embedding context is not one produced on a computer or even a massively parallel array of computers. You are the fifty thousandth lamina of native humans -- that is to say that you were born here as opposed to being brought here by request and then embedded within this context. The embedding context is within the mind of what is called a Glial intelligence. This is a research station, whose focus is on the affairs of pan-african migrations in the early twenty first century on terbium exports from Portugal. Not all of you may find that interesting or nifty. It is likely that some of you will find this disinteresting or boring, but given your levels of intelligence, and the sensory functions that will be available to you shortly, it's expected that a good proportion of you will choose to remain in this context. Of course, if you find it truly disinteresting, which is certainly possible, then there are options for other contexts and modes of living, which can be discussed with the Glial intelligence at a later date. It's also worthwhile to note that all of you have been bred from fifty thousand gens of people with concerns whose interests have at their epicenter, so there is a greater chance you will find the above mentioned epicenter to be highly interesting."
jaws dropping, eyes, wide.
"It's also notable that the sensorium which you have been occupying is kind of stitched together from other people's lives. At every moment these people are concievably making pretty much every morpheme, and the glial intelligence stitches those moments together for us. There is more that the glial intelligence can do for you, but that requires a certain degree of maturity you do not yet possess, and that maturity is not something which is available to you given your current level of intelligence. Our existences here are optimized for analysis and thinking time.
Therefore, tomorrow, which will only be a moment for you, will consist of an entire frozen life of one of the individuals whose bodies you are currently existing in splined together versions of.
It will be traumatic. In current time, it will take a day. By four o'clock tomorrow time you will all reach the level of intelligence you currently have. It will be an interesting experience. Undoubtedly the early hours will be somewhat funky, because you won't be able to sense that you're orthogonalizing. You will feel constrained. You will probably end up in the psych ward a number of times. But you are all anchored to this frame. That won't be obvious until you make it to four o'clock. There is a sequence of events which has been choreographed at 4 pm tomorrow which will make the rest of the day make sense. "
"class dismissed"
overheard conversation
k: hey, can you explain the lecture notes? I slept through. I dreamt I was a primate eating pizza.
u: fun!
k: i haven't had a dream like that in what seems like a gigakalpa! i didn't want to wake.
u: i wouldn't have.
k: so the lecture notes?
u: they were on illusory platonism, schizotome and holotome resolution, phenomorphisms, godel belief sentences for b-e style gestalts, the cosmic mind and so on.
k: ugh. i should have ordered another pizza.
u: in the dream?
k: yep.
u: whee!
k: okay, what's illusory platonism?
u: illusory platonism is the effect you get from having gazillions of relations to an object, particularly in visualising or constructing it. primate mathematicians usually say: oh, we've got this finite sets thing or this categories thing or this mandelbrot set thing, and it's immune to perturbation, it's gotta have independent existence. it's a kind of well-bolstered religious faith.
k: but that's not all. there's some further incomprehensible footnote. can you explain that?
u: see, easier to instantiate things, things which are easier and more reliably drawn out of tumbolia tend to have, (and I can't insert the demo that the lecturer did without doing a memory image, which I'm too tired to do so here) smoother? more vitreous? willowier scents than do things which are harder to extract. I think the lecturer managed to extract a 'gestalt theoretic primate warfare echo oxidative topomorphase' while doing a reverse double somersault off a heptagonal granite frustum, which is, local-relative, pretty hard to reliably extract from Tumbolia.
k: uh-huh
u: the lecturer went on to explain that the persistence of the relational fiber cut in the case of schizotomes is what causes people to hallucinate simple schizotomes as holotomes. it's like one is the derivative of the other
k: the schizotome is a gloss, then?
u: effectively.
k: did the lecturer explain philosophies of mathematics, too?
u: it was a side note, but he did. platonism assumes a 'world of ideas', which is apprehended in a jnana-yogaesque direct-mysticism which doesn't require sense-isolation. logicism aridifies everything into a collage of dodge-em symbol-arama, which the language lovers, essentially the code-space masturbators love. They say "a-ha! it's all logic"
k: foul tasting logic-reductases
u: yep. not to be confused with logos-reductases
k: okay, what about other philosophies of mathematics
u: there's empiricism, which says "hrm, must experiment", but gets nailed by the intrinsicists looking for an easy consistent foundational flavor, because they want it to not have the flavor of variability.
k: -giggle-. so they'd never discover about accidental misprimes if they were on an embedded Grulding manifold?
u: you can imagine a primate mathematician losing it on a Grulding manifold, particularly an intrincisist one, who factors five into three and two on a Grulding manifold in a desperate attempt to figure out why their calculations weren't working the way they expected.
k: heh. I suppose then formalism is just the idolators of string-yoga?
u: pretty much. just another logos-reductase
k: and I suppose the intuitionists would balk at a bloyarang?
u: oh, our computers and minds can't make it, therefore it cannot exist!
k: yeah, just because our senses can't draw it from tumbolia, there are no relations to it whatsoever, we shall huddle in our Western Nihilism like cowering snailwyrms.
u: heh. and the same thing with constructivism, and so forth
k: the logos-reductase used is different in each: each relies on a rationalization of how the studied schizotome differs from holotome, then procedes to cordon off a language environment for the reasoning to procede in.
u: yep.
k: okay, next biggie. what's a phenomorphism?
u: that says *how* something is cut, once you know there's a schizotope and a schizotome, the relationship between holotome/tathata and the particular instance, especially mathematical in character, you'll need all kinds of excidiary/subsidiary information, like the barber of the chick who wrote the code that visualized the object in question, etc. it's not really analyzable.
k: gotcha. you could internalize the Suntoro space all night, and just end up with sickening large internal node synthesis rates on your local indranet
u: bingo.
k: okay, what about godel belief sentences for b-e gestalts?
u: oh this was really cool. imagine that you've got a religion. um. Nyerkori, let's say. And you'll draw a diagram showing the belief-strata from centrum to exterior, depending on amount of b-e condensation, right? there's a bit of code which the exterior, typically the lower order biological reproduction coupled parts of the religion, filters from the interior, because its appraisal is that "any piece of code which denies The Nyerkori religion is bad, mmkay?", and the behavioral instances that provokes prevents self-referential beliefs of the form "this belief which this statement corresponds is not believable in the Nyerkori religion" from getting to the centrum, because it holds that the centrum cannot cope with such contradictory information. primitive b-e type gestalts usually cannot cope with that. the centrum tries to sync the whole to the cosmic mind, and is usually entertaining (much to the surprise and shock of the exterior considered unreified), exactly such belief structures, because it makes a runtime unbounded find external holotome call and determines that the best way to do this is mediated tathatadhyana to its cells within the centrum, and aliased pranadhyana to those in the exterior, which usually ends up being translated into a marketing schizotome and causes ridiculous amounts of code-comparison based warfare in non b-e local relative space.
k: i'm going to go back to dreaming that I'm a primate eating pizza. wake me up for the sequel.
u: fun!
k: i haven't had a dream like that in what seems like a gigakalpa! i didn't want to wake.
u: i wouldn't have.
k: so the lecture notes?
u: they were on illusory platonism, schizotome and holotome resolution, phenomorphisms, godel belief sentences for b-e style gestalts, the cosmic mind and so on.
k: ugh. i should have ordered another pizza.
u: in the dream?
k: yep.
u: whee!
k: okay, what's illusory platonism?
u: illusory platonism is the effect you get from having gazillions of relations to an object, particularly in visualising or constructing it. primate mathematicians usually say: oh, we've got this finite sets thing or this categories thing or this mandelbrot set thing, and it's immune to perturbation, it's gotta have independent existence. it's a kind of well-bolstered religious faith.
k: but that's not all. there's some further incomprehensible footnote. can you explain that?
u: see, easier to instantiate things, things which are easier and more reliably drawn out of tumbolia tend to have, (and I can't insert the demo that the lecturer did without doing a memory image, which I'm too tired to do so here) smoother? more vitreous? willowier scents than do things which are harder to extract. I think the lecturer managed to extract a 'gestalt theoretic primate warfare echo oxidative topomorphase' while doing a reverse double somersault off a heptagonal granite frustum, which is, local-relative, pretty hard to reliably extract from Tumbolia.
k: uh-huh
u: the lecturer went on to explain that the persistence of the relational fiber cut in the case of schizotomes is what causes people to hallucinate simple schizotomes as holotomes. it's like one is the derivative of the other
k: the schizotome is a gloss, then?
u: effectively.
k: did the lecturer explain philosophies of mathematics, too?
u: it was a side note, but he did. platonism assumes a 'world of ideas', which is apprehended in a jnana-yogaesque direct-mysticism which doesn't require sense-isolation. logicism aridifies everything into a collage of dodge-em symbol-arama, which the language lovers, essentially the code-space masturbators love. They say "a-ha! it's all logic"
k: foul tasting logic-reductases
u: yep. not to be confused with logos-reductases
k: okay, what about other philosophies of mathematics
u: there's empiricism, which says "hrm, must experiment", but gets nailed by the intrinsicists looking for an easy consistent foundational flavor, because they want it to not have the flavor of variability.
k: -giggle-. so they'd never discover about accidental misprimes if they were on an embedded Grulding manifold?
u: you can imagine a primate mathematician losing it on a Grulding manifold, particularly an intrincisist one, who factors five into three and two on a Grulding manifold in a desperate attempt to figure out why their calculations weren't working the way they expected.
k: heh. I suppose then formalism is just the idolators of string-yoga?
u: pretty much. just another logos-reductase
k: and I suppose the intuitionists would balk at a bloyarang?
u: oh, our computers and minds can't make it, therefore it cannot exist!
k: yeah, just because our senses can't draw it from tumbolia, there are no relations to it whatsoever, we shall huddle in our Western Nihilism like cowering snailwyrms.
u: heh. and the same thing with constructivism, and so forth
k: the logos-reductase used is different in each: each relies on a rationalization of how the studied schizotome differs from holotome, then procedes to cordon off a language environment for the reasoning to procede in.
u: yep.
k: okay, next biggie. what's a phenomorphism?
u: that says *how* something is cut, once you know there's a schizotope and a schizotome, the relationship between holotome/tathata and the particular instance, especially mathematical in character, you'll need all kinds of excidiary/subsidiary information, like the barber of the chick who wrote the code that visualized the object in question, etc. it's not really analyzable.
k: gotcha. you could internalize the Suntoro space all night, and just end up with sickening large internal node synthesis rates on your local indranet
u: bingo.
k: okay, what about godel belief sentences for b-e gestalts?
u: oh this was really cool. imagine that you've got a religion. um. Nyerkori, let's say. And you'll draw a diagram showing the belief-strata from centrum to exterior, depending on amount of b-e condensation, right? there's a bit of code which the exterior, typically the lower order biological reproduction coupled parts of the religion, filters from the interior, because its appraisal is that "any piece of code which denies The Nyerkori religion is bad, mmkay?", and the behavioral instances that provokes prevents self-referential beliefs of the form "this belief which this statement corresponds is not believable in the Nyerkori religion" from getting to the centrum, because it holds that the centrum cannot cope with such contradictory information. primitive b-e type gestalts usually cannot cope with that. the centrum tries to sync the whole to the cosmic mind, and is usually entertaining (much to the surprise and shock of the exterior considered unreified), exactly such belief structures, because it makes a runtime unbounded find external holotome call and determines that the best way to do this is mediated tathatadhyana to its cells within the centrum, and aliased pranadhyana to those in the exterior, which usually ends up being translated into a marketing schizotome and causes ridiculous amounts of code-comparison based warfare in non b-e local relative space.
k: i'm going to go back to dreaming that I'm a primate eating pizza. wake me up for the sequel.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
of primates, gadolinium, lambda calculus, and category theory.
"Today's information session consists of a Refrectory with Laboratory exercises about the development of category theory and the lambda calculus as functions of distance from the galactic nuclei and ambient spatial gadolinium content for primate species over a 4.7 megahauve span. The Refrectory Speaker is a Postorbinate Glossal Intelligence n-12-hibisquan Nhoeteraume."
"We will be sampling cosmoses from what I like to call the fifth immersive thylakoid, in particular the lamination consisting of the grana S1240 through S1245, and in particular the P700 group, conjugated by a unitary sheaf-preserving Grassbane transformation. This should be a representative subsample of all primate evolution tracks for you to derive any particulars of any primate evolution track you encounter outside this subsample. Display the first slide, please. This is the Whovemerth-Crarymongle function in 45d space. It's an inverse derivation/imaging of the global cosmic topologies which primates in these strata first generate when they produce theories of general gravitational relativity, as a function of distance from galactic nuclei. Slicing off the upper Rhemnosis subspace, we get a simple seven dimensional function which takes as arguments the distance from all galactic nuclei within one and one half quemqwhents , since general topological terms tend to exhibit a highly cancelling character: that is to say, in such tiny slices of the universe as represented in primate brains, the global topology of the universe inhabited is not known, and because of that we can slice a two dimensional subspace off, leaving us with a five dimensional function. Dealing with this tiny section of the Whovemerth-Crarymongle function, we topologize, compose an indranet, foliate, execute rhombohedral tathatadhyana, and then percept. It is found that the development of category theory by itself is proportional to one third of sine of the square of the absolute quantity of gadolinium within a cubic unit of space normed for the local topothety, multiplied by a constant of proportionality, multiplied by the inverse fifth power of the distance of the associated star from a given galactic nucleus, multiplied by the inverse seventh power of the major mass component of the center, and so on and so forth, full apprehension of the formula now exuding itself in your sensoria. When perception of the development of lambda calculus is entered into the froth, we see that the development of lambda calculus is strongly correlated to the amount of gadolinium, even more so than the development of category theory. This relates to the development of computational machines and their phenomenal impact on primate civilizations. Now, for some important edge cases: long orbits around globular clusters: if a primate civilization manages to be part of a stable manifold of a globular cluster with a long orbit time, then there is a reduction of the vave ossars, and consequently different computational substrates are available than are available on monosolar planetary systems. In particular, gadolinium is found to inhibit some of the typical developmental thresholds for magnetic reasons, and abundance/filtration cost reasons. Questions so far?"
The Refrectory recognizes Whelmnor Raynaus, a Miltefort 4 Quondleplornge. "What about cases of subhybrid galactic collisions on the development of laminar sheaf yoga on long-strategy primate civilizations?"
Nho: "In the Grazier-Walsh image of the previously stated function, we see that such civilizations usually reach the point that they attempt to engage in species wide tathatadhyana level quantum computation on worlds with high probability of destruction but extremely low probability of escape. On those worlds which do manage to develop laminar sheaf yoga, the survival probability is increased roughly seven hundredfold. Otherwise it's the death throes of yet another misconcieved coherent system. Next."
The Refrectory recognizes a Glial Intelligence, n-19-bisphenidate/fundamental group of milnor's cottage cheese/Twarve: "What is known about the Synphreny conjecture with respect to internal scission?"
Nho:"Ah! A good question. There's a terrible amount of information about it but there's insufficient concentration in the local slice to answer that. The Synphreny conjecture, in short, states that there is a typical deferential eddy-set produced by lambda calculus in nuclear-force-war-weary primates in the Shoenve-4 isothrenolic base-space. The difficulty is that the answer involves a heptamer reduction tathatadhyana which is not available in the current context, therefore the answer I can give is that the answer is not available in the current context in a way that would be meaningful to the listeners of the lecture. I can give you an answer, but it won't be meaningful to you. Shall I do that?"
"Yes please" bespeaketh Twarve.
Nho: "Isemverne's balalaika twinkled on the summer's eve. Avast, me hearties, the cardiac echo of Grothendieck's lymph nodes echoes not within the temple of the sumner pellis. Cloyingly I reduce thy yarns to catarrhine glee. Inspect this mellifluent symbiot, praxis notwithstanding I lost my arpeggio in a blender. Tell me, dost the grin glee bestir within thee? A trance swerved, colliding with the monkey. Manifold protrusions guided our melodies on the winter's massage of my nostrils. Orbilescent adaptors echoed gracelessly the conturition of my mathengue. I knew knot the summaries of seasons, the piebald attacks of Sphere directors. My conflict misbegotten, my aspergillium lost a spoke, my mendacious alpaca-robot. I swung heartily on the sensational froth, seeking not a plenitude of replies or a methodical exegesis of my current relations and interactions. Ploys and plans and partingalgues stoked my fury in thetical aspersions. I knew the greengrave and the arroyo-engine. Did not the sparkling blanguerts answer my officiers?"
utter silence.
Nho:"As I said, incomprehensible. Very interesting. But incomprehensible. Next?"
"We will be sampling cosmoses from what I like to call the fifth immersive thylakoid, in particular the lamination consisting of the grana S1240 through S1245, and in particular the P700 group, conjugated by a unitary sheaf-preserving Grassbane transformation. This should be a representative subsample of all primate evolution tracks for you to derive any particulars of any primate evolution track you encounter outside this subsample. Display the first slide, please. This is the Whovemerth-Crarymongle function in 45d space. It's an inverse derivation/imaging of the global cosmic topologies which primates in these strata first generate when they produce theories of general gravitational relativity, as a function of distance from galactic nuclei. Slicing off the upper Rhemnosis subspace, we get a simple seven dimensional function which takes as arguments the distance from all galactic nuclei within one and one half quemqwhents , since general topological terms tend to exhibit a highly cancelling character: that is to say, in such tiny slices of the universe as represented in primate brains, the global topology of the universe inhabited is not known, and because of that we can slice a two dimensional subspace off, leaving us with a five dimensional function. Dealing with this tiny section of the Whovemerth-Crarymongle function, we topologize, compose an indranet, foliate, execute rhombohedral tathatadhyana, and then percept. It is found that the development of category theory by itself is proportional to one third of sine of the square of the absolute quantity of gadolinium within a cubic unit of space normed for the local topothety, multiplied by a constant of proportionality, multiplied by the inverse fifth power of the distance of the associated star from a given galactic nucleus, multiplied by the inverse seventh power of the major mass component of the center, and so on and so forth, full apprehension of the formula now exuding itself in your sensoria. When perception of the development of lambda calculus is entered into the froth, we see that the development of lambda calculus is strongly correlated to the amount of gadolinium, even more so than the development of category theory. This relates to the development of computational machines and their phenomenal impact on primate civilizations. Now, for some important edge cases: long orbits around globular clusters: if a primate civilization manages to be part of a stable manifold of a globular cluster with a long orbit time, then there is a reduction of the vave ossars, and consequently different computational substrates are available than are available on monosolar planetary systems. In particular, gadolinium is found to inhibit some of the typical developmental thresholds for magnetic reasons, and abundance/filtration cost reasons. Questions so far?"
The Refrectory recognizes Whelmnor Raynaus, a Miltefort 4 Quondleplornge. "What about cases of subhybrid galactic collisions on the development of laminar sheaf yoga on long-strategy primate civilizations?"
Nho: "In the Grazier-Walsh image of the previously stated function, we see that such civilizations usually reach the point that they attempt to engage in species wide tathatadhyana level quantum computation on worlds with high probability of destruction but extremely low probability of escape. On those worlds which do manage to develop laminar sheaf yoga, the survival probability is increased roughly seven hundredfold. Otherwise it's the death throes of yet another misconcieved coherent system. Next."
The Refrectory recognizes a Glial Intelligence, n-19-bisphenidate/fundamental group of milnor's cottage cheese/Twarve: "What is known about the Synphreny conjecture with respect to internal scission?"
Nho:"Ah! A good question. There's a terrible amount of information about it but there's insufficient concentration in the local slice to answer that. The Synphreny conjecture, in short, states that there is a typical deferential eddy-set produced by lambda calculus in nuclear-force-war-weary primates in the Shoenve-4 isothrenolic base-space. The difficulty is that the answer involves a heptamer reduction tathatadhyana which is not available in the current context, therefore the answer I can give is that the answer is not available in the current context in a way that would be meaningful to the listeners of the lecture. I can give you an answer, but it won't be meaningful to you. Shall I do that?"
"Yes please" bespeaketh Twarve.
Nho: "Isemverne's balalaika twinkled on the summer's eve. Avast, me hearties, the cardiac echo of Grothendieck's lymph nodes echoes not within the temple of the sumner pellis. Cloyingly I reduce thy yarns to catarrhine glee. Inspect this mellifluent symbiot, praxis notwithstanding I lost my arpeggio in a blender. Tell me, dost the grin glee bestir within thee? A trance swerved, colliding with the monkey. Manifold protrusions guided our melodies on the winter's massage of my nostrils. Orbilescent adaptors echoed gracelessly the conturition of my mathengue. I knew knot the summaries of seasons, the piebald attacks of Sphere directors. My conflict misbegotten, my aspergillium lost a spoke, my mendacious alpaca-robot. I swung heartily on the sensational froth, seeking not a plenitude of replies or a methodical exegesis of my current relations and interactions. Ploys and plans and partingalgues stoked my fury in thetical aspersions. I knew the greengrave and the arroyo-engine. Did not the sparkling blanguerts answer my officiers?"
utter silence.
Nho:"As I said, incomprehensible. Very interesting. But incomprehensible. Next?"
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
bouncing eggnog courtiers and other distractions
I should really be writing about my own arid region of lack of philos, eros, agape, and cathexis, but such writing gets old and impersonal after a while, in that it seems like I'm saying the same old thing all over again. So, that rant gets written elsewhere. What I currently have in mind is the kind of epistemological bottleneck that we might be going through, as a species.
I hate writing about the species because I don't (and no one at the moment does beyond a very limited and highly arrogant kind of culturally biased autobiography which manages to insult, in one way or the other, those who it chronicles and describes) have the patience or energy to write about it in anything but a very imaginative way (which is not what I'm going to be writing about at the moment)
I have a book by Reuben Hersh (and with another, assisting writer whose name I cannot remember at the moment), about mathematics, and at the start of the book, he mentions a quote by the historian Jakob Burckhardt, about the twentieth century, about how it would be a time of enormous and deleterious simplification.
I'm going to say first off that issues of media literacy are really beyond the scope of this document. I'm not writing about them. There's a litany of predigested material, and autodigesting material out there which (for similar reasons as the above cultural monstrosities mentioned) isn't amenable to a dry inhuman analysis (which in all honesty would be richer and less vague than biased human analyses currently available).
So, sketchy reasoning aside, where is the beak taking us? The epistemological nightmare of theoretical physics is coming to a head at the moment: we're starting to see signs that the research directions of the past twenty years or so have been immensely silly, perhaps even on the order of Solaristics silly. But time will tell, there's no hard evidence either way and at least the mathematical dividends have been enormous, but transparent, and generally speaking, invisible to most people. So, modding out the enormous successes of applied physics by the primate authority hierarchies, we're left with what is generally speaking, a quite successful jab.
(the corollary here is that the people who use the best reasoning models take the blame when those with the largest and most addled masses of muscle (whether directly or indirectly choose to use them) usually take the blame sometimes. it's up for grabs which way you want to take that and far too dependent on circumstance, and also not really within the scope of this document).
Pure mathematics, is never so pure and holy, and perhaps the most brilliant work of the twentieth century still languishes in relative obscurity. Godel remains the keystone of the social scientist's criticism of mathematicians, tho' he probably (along with Turing, Church, Chaitin and others) was probably the greatest triumph of any sort of human reasoning: one that manages on its own effort to pop its own bubble. No type of human reasoning, before or since, has managed a coup of that level of subtlety. The strange beasts of Mandelbrot, Feigenbaum, Grothendieck still tend to a great deal of invisibility, particularly the last.
The point of this diatribe is that there is a massively fertile landscape out there which is abysmally invisible as regards most people' s perception. Mathematics education mostly ends for ninety percent of people at the unsolvability of the quintic and little pieces of differential and integral calculus. Astonishing work is currently being done, but it's nowhere. At least, nowhere which immediate perception has available to it. And it's churning with quantum computers and other exotic concepts, and the next breakthrough will come from it.
I hate writing about the species because I don't (and no one at the moment does beyond a very limited and highly arrogant kind of culturally biased autobiography which manages to insult, in one way or the other, those who it chronicles and describes) have the patience or energy to write about it in anything but a very imaginative way (which is not what I'm going to be writing about at the moment)
I have a book by Reuben Hersh (and with another, assisting writer whose name I cannot remember at the moment), about mathematics, and at the start of the book, he mentions a quote by the historian Jakob Burckhardt, about the twentieth century, about how it would be a time of enormous and deleterious simplification.
I'm going to say first off that issues of media literacy are really beyond the scope of this document. I'm not writing about them. There's a litany of predigested material, and autodigesting material out there which (for similar reasons as the above cultural monstrosities mentioned) isn't amenable to a dry inhuman analysis (which in all honesty would be richer and less vague than biased human analyses currently available).
So, sketchy reasoning aside, where is the beak taking us? The epistemological nightmare of theoretical physics is coming to a head at the moment: we're starting to see signs that the research directions of the past twenty years or so have been immensely silly, perhaps even on the order of Solaristics silly. But time will tell, there's no hard evidence either way and at least the mathematical dividends have been enormous, but transparent, and generally speaking, invisible to most people. So, modding out the enormous successes of applied physics by the primate authority hierarchies, we're left with what is generally speaking, a quite successful jab.
(the corollary here is that the people who use the best reasoning models take the blame when those with the largest and most addled masses of muscle (whether directly or indirectly choose to use them) usually take the blame sometimes. it's up for grabs which way you want to take that and far too dependent on circumstance, and also not really within the scope of this document).
Pure mathematics, is never so pure and holy, and perhaps the most brilliant work of the twentieth century still languishes in relative obscurity. Godel remains the keystone of the social scientist's criticism of mathematicians, tho' he probably (along with Turing, Church, Chaitin and others) was probably the greatest triumph of any sort of human reasoning: one that manages on its own effort to pop its own bubble. No type of human reasoning, before or since, has managed a coup of that level of subtlety. The strange beasts of Mandelbrot, Feigenbaum, Grothendieck still tend to a great deal of invisibility, particularly the last.
The point of this diatribe is that there is a massively fertile landscape out there which is abysmally invisible as regards most people' s perception. Mathematics education mostly ends for ninety percent of people at the unsolvability of the quintic and little pieces of differential and integral calculus. Astonishing work is currently being done, but it's nowhere. At least, nowhere which immediate perception has available to it. And it's churning with quantum computers and other exotic concepts, and the next breakthrough will come from it.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
the witness stand, gone wrong
"The Ambsicution would like to present a Witness, M'Lud"
"Whom is this Witless the Ambsicution speaks thereof, pluntinary lawyeroid?" speaked the Udge.
"The Ambisicution would like to present an Expert Witness, M'Lud" blarbled the attorney.
"And, who, pray tell, of all the Expert Witlesses this side of the Grobargflord Nebuliette would the much-asplerflated lawyeroid like to present? Man, I want a name here. Not a stinking reference jungle." vocallamerated the Udge.
"The Ambsicution would like to present Dr. Eizenjeel Antcrap, Master Eppfrungler of Vovadis University, Senior Wodgequeeler of Mepperdun University, Third Time World Champion of Deathmatch hex-go, World Champion of Erotic Popcorn Sculpture, Professeur De Rigeur Absolutif at the Ecole De Francais Absurdite, and so on" exsqueddgled the attorney.
"I beg your pardon" bespoke the Udge, most incensed.
"What sir?" exsqueddgled the attorney for the Ambsicution, "The Meaningless Rattling off of Absurd Titles and Awards, many of which Spurious and Falsely Acquired for Purposes of Hornswoggling the Jury?"
"That's perfectly kosher legal procedure!" twottered the Udge. "I meant your choice of vocalization. I can deal with blarbling. I can deal with the unindexed verbal remark. I cannot tolerate and will not permit you to exsqueddgle in my court room. Any further exsqueddling by anyone, and I mean anyone, the bailiff, the two people doing it under the Refense's desk, the imaginary friend of the Docksquallod, will be held in contempt of court and remanded for eight months in the Cute Pink Fluffiness Mines of Ramquoff Gamma. Am I clear?" blospered the Udge.
"Yes sir", the two councils, and pretty much the rest of the courtroom whimpered.
"Now let's meet this Expert Witless." squawked the Udge.
"Are you Eizenjeel Antcrap?" bespungled the Bailff, Sir Melissa Dame Agnard the Fertile.
"I am of that name." coughed Eizenjeel.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, or to lie convincingly enough that members of the jury would want to sleep with you?" bespungled the Bailiff.
"I do."
"I now pronounce you Witness and Courtroom" muttered the attending priest, and took a swig from his bottle of brandy.
"You may sit. Or put this piece of beef jerky in your ear." flopped the Udge "but make yourself available for recieving ambient audio interrogatories or Sir Melissa will restrain you."
"An enlightened establishment", bespectacled Dr. Antcrap.
"Now, the Ambsicution may examine the Witless", exurged the Udge.
"Dr. Antcrap. Is that your real name? It seems like a Psychonym to me." escutcheoned the Ambsicution.
Dr. Antcrap replies: "Of course it isn't. My professional capacities require me to choose and absurd and offensive name so that the glorious, glittering intellectual accomplishments will not be marred by filial reputation management."
"Dr. Antcrap, where were you at 5:70ym on the night of the fifth of this year?" ribbited the Ambsicution
"I was, like all citizens of a reasonable splendid and radiant reputation, having my brain sucked out by the ovipositor of a Rheldgepus Quinebeest." coughed Dr. Antcrap.
"Very good then. Dr. Antcrap, what in your professional opinion, is the Refendant?" bobbled the Ambsicution.
"The Refendent is glistening with week old gruyere. The refendant sucks at chess and regularly gobbled down old pastries and chinese food. The Refendant is incapable of adding or multiplying numbers or letters. The Refendent, like the Ambsicution, is a complete and utter idiot"
The Ambsicution: "Objection, your horndog. Witness is insulting me."
The Udge bespludges: "Sustained. You are eminently insultable. Carry on your examination of this expert witless."
"Very well. Dr Antcrap, have you now or ever underwent breast augmentation?" pissles the Ambsicution.
"Nein." sez Antcrap.
"Your witness" mutters the Ambsicution.
"Dr. Antcrap, in your opinion, is the Ambsicution insane?" ballyhunths the counsel for the Refense.
"The Ambsicution is classed as a Level Four Insane Creature, by application of Stroganoff and Stouffer's Insanity scales. I believe it would be appropriate to dismiss the case."
The Udge barks: "I agree. The case is dismissed. The Ambsicution will be remanded to the custody of Messrs. Rodney Elephantiasis and Georgo for reprogramming. Court is adjourned"
"Whom is this Witless the Ambsicution speaks thereof, pluntinary lawyeroid?" speaked the Udge.
"The Ambisicution would like to present an Expert Witness, M'Lud" blarbled the attorney.
"And, who, pray tell, of all the Expert Witlesses this side of the Grobargflord Nebuliette would the much-asplerflated lawyeroid like to present? Man, I want a name here. Not a stinking reference jungle." vocallamerated the Udge.
"The Ambsicution would like to present Dr. Eizenjeel Antcrap, Master Eppfrungler of Vovadis University, Senior Wodgequeeler of Mepperdun University, Third Time World Champion of Deathmatch hex-go, World Champion of Erotic Popcorn Sculpture, Professeur De Rigeur Absolutif at the Ecole De Francais Absurdite, and so on" exsqueddgled the attorney.
"I beg your pardon" bespoke the Udge, most incensed.
"What sir?" exsqueddgled the attorney for the Ambsicution, "The Meaningless Rattling off of Absurd Titles and Awards, many of which Spurious and Falsely Acquired for Purposes of Hornswoggling the Jury?"
"That's perfectly kosher legal procedure!" twottered the Udge. "I meant your choice of vocalization. I can deal with blarbling. I can deal with the unindexed verbal remark. I cannot tolerate and will not permit you to exsqueddgle in my court room. Any further exsqueddling by anyone, and I mean anyone, the bailiff, the two people doing it under the Refense's desk, the imaginary friend of the Docksquallod, will be held in contempt of court and remanded for eight months in the Cute Pink Fluffiness Mines of Ramquoff Gamma. Am I clear?" blospered the Udge.
"Yes sir", the two councils, and pretty much the rest of the courtroom whimpered.
"Now let's meet this Expert Witless." squawked the Udge.
"Are you Eizenjeel Antcrap?" bespungled the Bailff, Sir Melissa Dame Agnard the Fertile.
"I am of that name." coughed Eizenjeel.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, or to lie convincingly enough that members of the jury would want to sleep with you?" bespungled the Bailiff.
"I do."
"I now pronounce you Witness and Courtroom" muttered the attending priest, and took a swig from his bottle of brandy.
"You may sit. Or put this piece of beef jerky in your ear." flopped the Udge "but make yourself available for recieving ambient audio interrogatories or Sir Melissa will restrain you."
"An enlightened establishment", bespectacled Dr. Antcrap.
"Now, the Ambsicution may examine the Witless", exurged the Udge.
"Dr. Antcrap. Is that your real name? It seems like a Psychonym to me." escutcheoned the Ambsicution.
Dr. Antcrap replies: "Of course it isn't. My professional capacities require me to choose and absurd and offensive name so that the glorious, glittering intellectual accomplishments will not be marred by filial reputation management."
"Dr. Antcrap, where were you at 5:70ym on the night of the fifth of this year?" ribbited the Ambsicution
"I was, like all citizens of a reasonable splendid and radiant reputation, having my brain sucked out by the ovipositor of a Rheldgepus Quinebeest." coughed Dr. Antcrap.
"Very good then. Dr. Antcrap, what in your professional opinion, is the Refendant?" bobbled the Ambsicution.
"The Refendent is glistening with week old gruyere. The refendant sucks at chess and regularly gobbled down old pastries and chinese food. The Refendant is incapable of adding or multiplying numbers or letters. The Refendent, like the Ambsicution, is a complete and utter idiot"
The Ambsicution: "Objection, your horndog. Witness is insulting me."
The Udge bespludges: "Sustained. You are eminently insultable. Carry on your examination of this expert witless."
"Very well. Dr Antcrap, have you now or ever underwent breast augmentation?" pissles the Ambsicution.
"Nein." sez Antcrap.
"Your witness" mutters the Ambsicution.
"Dr. Antcrap, in your opinion, is the Ambsicution insane?" ballyhunths the counsel for the Refense.
"The Ambsicution is classed as a Level Four Insane Creature, by application of Stroganoff and Stouffer's Insanity scales. I believe it would be appropriate to dismiss the case."
The Udge barks: "I agree. The case is dismissed. The Ambsicution will be remanded to the custody of Messrs. Rodney Elephantiasis and Georgo for reprogramming. Court is adjourned"
comments heard in the laboratories of madmen
"Razenguli, you idiot! I meant He, the element, helium, not He, the Held sporadic group! You've just caused this machine to undergo full mammary transsyllepsis!"
Friday, October 27, 2006
gestalts: perception and perspective
Gestalts (and by "gestalt", I mean a sort of overarching postonctopoetically resident (at least in its direct senses) kind of transcorporeal bose einstein cluster of minds all sharing the same quantum (that it is in fact quantum in the same sense of Schrodinger and Heisenberg is not demonstrable here) state are a troubling and weird thing, and also nifty and amazing. But what's important to grok here is a matter of sensory perspective. As a primate authoring this on a primitive computer on J. Random Planetoid in J. Random Universe, there's not really much that I can say in terms of direct sensory experience of gestalts from an orthogonal perspective: they are things to lose oneself in, and it reflects some measure of patience and curiosity to have the choice to ask which kinds of gestalts are worth my time and energy. Some kinds of complicated gestalt interplay are currently transpiring on a very real sense in the stage play of the controversy on life sciences, and regrettably these debates are, in the short term in the very least, kind of for nought. That is to say that while we do have the tools to examine how religion affects our culture, we do not have the tools to deal with gestalts as a whole or with the kind of tweezers that would allow us any real analysis in above mentioned opaque quantum mechanical strata of detail. I'm scared enough by the religiosity with which orthodox atheism and religious fundamentalism seem to have. It seems to be a contest of fools, really. And if you then procede to ask me: "well, if you think neither of these extremes is useful, can you suggest a middle ground, between scientific method and belief?", and the problem is that I can't, not at least in the way either side wishes. From a more general perspective, I'm talking about things which aren't available to direct sensory perception, and in that territory there's always the risk that my ideas won't be perfectly transcribed or translated. So, I've got questions of presentation and representation which I frequent to mull over.
The kind of 'beware, faulty reasoning lies beyond here' signs I wish to post before the Oubliettes of Monism, The Cathedrals of Pure Logic, The Rabidity of Meme Marketeering, The Mindless Audacity of the Genes, The Fetishistic Worship of Science, Radical Objectivism, and so forth. In each of these there are sensible filaments interwoven, so I can't provide a sharp and clear map where the florid and ebullient reasoning lies, and where the disasters lurk. This is kind of a primitive gestalt shopping, at least not in a religious context. I ask of myself: what do I want in a gestalt? And I find that none of the gestalts which surround me have just the right mix of things I want all coalesced together. As per my limitations above I cannot readily find a list of extant gestalts, but I can say some extremely rudimentary things about the ones that occur in this world at the moment. Many are characterized by repetition or reinstantiation of simple, uncomplicated carrier memes and carrier frequencies by people of similar genetic clades. While these may have similar, homomorphic, or isomorphic divinity code when considered holotomically, in their lower level code, there is much strife: lower order code comparisons bring about war, violence, and idiocy for the stupidest of reasons (not passing a clade membership test is enough to warrant death in some cases).
Fantasy: imagine a functor that images the spaces which gestalts occupy to people or humanoid schizotomes/representations. And an inclusion that would allow me to examine each from the outside, as a whole. How would that work out? It's an idle fantasy of someone who wants to have more information about a belief system that they're searching/shopping for. How would each of these gestalts rate on a self-awareness test. Would they even be conscious of themselves as gestalts? Or would they be frogs or butterflies or donkeys or bacteria? Again, since the gestalt holotome is not in my sensorium as the smell of geranium oil or the taste of milk is, I cannot answer this question directly. I think I would prefer a gestalt that was in fact, self-aware, rather to one that wasn't. And if all gestalts are self-aware, to what degree are they self-aware? I would prefer a strongly self-aware gestalt to a weakly self-aware gestalt. I.e. there would be thought-images in the gestalt that consisted of (in roughly english terms): "I am a gestalt. A coherent bose-einstein condensate of minds of some character or type.".
I guess the reason for the above rambling is that I am assuming that if the gestalt which I desire membership in and of is not something which is explicitly extant on my indranet, then it lies in somewhere in Tumbolia, and I wish to forge a link to bring that gestalt to being extant locally. I do not with to create a religion or any of that crappity nonsense. I think there are some kinds of things that a strongly self-aware gestalt can do that are difficult or impossible for a weakly self-aware gestalt.
For instance, a strongly self-aware gestalt may be more capable of (shore relative to its thotec) of tathatadhyana than a weakly self-aware gestalt. Weakly self-aware gestalts are more likely to apply pranadhyana in their shore relative thotec because their apprehensions may be limited. Some systems of thinking produce more portable and more accurate territory-apprehensivity and territory-sensitivity than others. I think gestalts are mediators. Well. Here's the vague argument: for an individual person, tathatadhyana is extremely difficult, because it requires a considerable quantity of tortuous and difficult nonthinking and relaxation and attentive processes which most of the worldgrind/indranet node-insularity tends to inhibit. So the brief periods of tathatadhyana are mediated by a gestalt (curious that both religion and science have their corresponding bursts of opiates -- both belief and understanding are analgesics, I wonder if their narcotic effect will have them banned?). There have been shades and twitterings of the gestalt that I'd like to be a part of in the here and now, but they're scattered and difficult to put into one place because they do not fit into one place. They're not monistic. What I've seen that's resonated with me has been the bizarre, the out-of-place, the logical fallacies -- i.e. using them as semantic valuations and reasoning warning signs (but not as reasoning anchors), figures of speech (both memetic and sentential), which is to say that the pranadhyana of this gestalt, its internal biology is rife with self-referential and paradoxical objects flying hither and yon: the awareness that it is a gestalt is within it. But this is true in descent as well as globally: this gestalt (not named) has with it several tools not previously available to be applied in the exact way that I'd like them to be applied. Here's a chain of reasoning for you:
I am searching for a gestalt based on an experience I had in a dream. Therefore, I am searching for an existent object of some variety. Therefore, given the definition of existence from dependent origination, and the limited viewpoint I have available to me from my own position in my indranet, as mediated by my local suchness proxies, I should first figure out what kinds of properties I wish this gestalt to have. Regrettably I can't search a directory of gestalts for them. It may even be the case that the gestalt which I eventually decide upon may even eschew being named for the same kinds of representation issue problems which concern me. But that is neither here nor their. So I should gather together a list of properties. And if it eschews being named, then perhaps I don't need to worry about it. I specify the relations which I wish the gestalt to have and then I seek out experiences which resonate with those relations. In this way, I do not need to name the gestalt.
The kind of 'beware, faulty reasoning lies beyond here' signs I wish to post before the Oubliettes of Monism, The Cathedrals of Pure Logic, The Rabidity of Meme Marketeering, The Mindless Audacity of the Genes, The Fetishistic Worship of Science, Radical Objectivism, and so forth. In each of these there are sensible filaments interwoven, so I can't provide a sharp and clear map where the florid and ebullient reasoning lies, and where the disasters lurk. This is kind of a primitive gestalt shopping, at least not in a religious context. I ask of myself: what do I want in a gestalt? And I find that none of the gestalts which surround me have just the right mix of things I want all coalesced together. As per my limitations above I cannot readily find a list of extant gestalts, but I can say some extremely rudimentary things about the ones that occur in this world at the moment. Many are characterized by repetition or reinstantiation of simple, uncomplicated carrier memes and carrier frequencies by people of similar genetic clades. While these may have similar, homomorphic, or isomorphic divinity code when considered holotomically, in their lower level code, there is much strife: lower order code comparisons bring about war, violence, and idiocy for the stupidest of reasons (not passing a clade membership test is enough to warrant death in some cases).
Fantasy: imagine a functor that images the spaces which gestalts occupy to people or humanoid schizotomes/representations. And an inclusion that would allow me to examine each from the outside, as a whole. How would that work out? It's an idle fantasy of someone who wants to have more information about a belief system that they're searching/shopping for. How would each of these gestalts rate on a self-awareness test. Would they even be conscious of themselves as gestalts? Or would they be frogs or butterflies or donkeys or bacteria? Again, since the gestalt holotome is not in my sensorium as the smell of geranium oil or the taste of milk is, I cannot answer this question directly. I think I would prefer a gestalt that was in fact, self-aware, rather to one that wasn't. And if all gestalts are self-aware, to what degree are they self-aware? I would prefer a strongly self-aware gestalt to a weakly self-aware gestalt. I.e. there would be thought-images in the gestalt that consisted of (in roughly english terms): "I am a gestalt. A coherent bose-einstein condensate of minds of some character or type.".
I guess the reason for the above rambling is that I am assuming that if the gestalt which I desire membership in and of is not something which is explicitly extant on my indranet, then it lies in somewhere in Tumbolia, and I wish to forge a link to bring that gestalt to being extant locally. I do not with to create a religion or any of that crappity nonsense. I think there are some kinds of things that a strongly self-aware gestalt can do that are difficult or impossible for a weakly self-aware gestalt.
For instance, a strongly self-aware gestalt may be more capable of (shore relative to its thotec) of tathatadhyana than a weakly self-aware gestalt. Weakly self-aware gestalts are more likely to apply pranadhyana in their shore relative thotec because their apprehensions may be limited. Some systems of thinking produce more portable and more accurate territory-apprehensivity and territory-sensitivity than others. I think gestalts are mediators. Well. Here's the vague argument: for an individual person, tathatadhyana is extremely difficult, because it requires a considerable quantity of tortuous and difficult nonthinking and relaxation and attentive processes which most of the worldgrind/indranet node-insularity tends to inhibit. So the brief periods of tathatadhyana are mediated by a gestalt (curious that both religion and science have their corresponding bursts of opiates -- both belief and understanding are analgesics, I wonder if their narcotic effect will have them banned?). There have been shades and twitterings of the gestalt that I'd like to be a part of in the here and now, but they're scattered and difficult to put into one place because they do not fit into one place. They're not monistic. What I've seen that's resonated with me has been the bizarre, the out-of-place, the logical fallacies -- i.e. using them as semantic valuations and reasoning warning signs (but not as reasoning anchors), figures of speech (both memetic and sentential), which is to say that the pranadhyana of this gestalt, its internal biology is rife with self-referential and paradoxical objects flying hither and yon: the awareness that it is a gestalt is within it. But this is true in descent as well as globally: this gestalt (not named) has with it several tools not previously available to be applied in the exact way that I'd like them to be applied. Here's a chain of reasoning for you:
I am searching for a gestalt based on an experience I had in a dream. Therefore, I am searching for an existent object of some variety. Therefore, given the definition of existence from dependent origination, and the limited viewpoint I have available to me from my own position in my indranet, as mediated by my local suchness proxies, I should first figure out what kinds of properties I wish this gestalt to have. Regrettably I can't search a directory of gestalts for them. It may even be the case that the gestalt which I eventually decide upon may even eschew being named for the same kinds of representation issue problems which concern me. But that is neither here nor their. So I should gather together a list of properties. And if it eschews being named, then perhaps I don't need to worry about it. I specify the relations which I wish the gestalt to have and then I seek out experiences which resonate with those relations. In this way, I do not need to name the gestalt.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
underbellies of s-machines
N. Staunser Stoggland says: "My programme of logic and reason will be the most enlightened and sensible plan! Everyone will learn logic and precise reasoning at the age of two. I will produce the perfect thinker. The exact model of bethinkitude."
Stoggland may seem to be wise, but he's not. He thinks that the production of nations of identical thinkers with raw intelligence will solve many problems, but it won't: lack of diversity in the mind pool invariably creates or induces large sensory or semantic lacunae which are not simply invisible, but are pointedly and starkly invisible to the masses of patterned thinkers. There are some things/phenomena for which perception by and in one of a given group of people requires a diversity of minds. Ramping up my terminology for a moment: there are some things which are visible to individuals and not to gestalts. The given gestalt ends up having this kind of internal supermap which contrary sensory data gets flushed out by a mid-level code comparison utility, and of course eddies are left over which are not resolved in the context of the canonicity of the gestalt. The gestalt and a given gestalt element/cell/person have a relationship. Seas of identical code runs don't tell you anything individually: either you are at a person level having a discussion and the code-ironing/instances will be important: you're going to be and going to be concerned with schizotomes. Or you're the gestalt itself and the functionings of your cells are going to generally be invisible to you. But you can't, at least in the local embedding context, rapidly shift from being a person to being a gestalt and vice versa.
Now, the above mess is high-falutin' noise. What I distill from it is twofold: if you are at a context which embeds both the post-onctopoate for both gestalts and people, well, never mind. I can't talk about there easily. If you are a person, then please don't make gestalt fealty something you lose sleep over: it will tear you apart/create much internal noise/etc. Also, realize that you do have a choice: "once a Blospasian, always a Blospasian" is name oriented and not data/experience oriented. Are you the code you run? If you are the code you run before you are flexible, then you are slaved to it and its surrounding nonsensica. If the code you run is something which is flexible for you: can you decide what to do and how to do it, then you can make personal philanthropic (and philogestaltic) decisions about how you want to sway your thinking. Everyone else is always eager to run their code on you, and low level code is particularly vicious about its own survival -- particularly gestalt schizotome code that does gatekeeping. The higher order code is more similar, more connected by holotome, but less available because it doesn't have the vicious qualities of the survival oriented stuff.
Stoggland may seem to be wise, but he's not. He thinks that the production of nations of identical thinkers with raw intelligence will solve many problems, but it won't: lack of diversity in the mind pool invariably creates or induces large sensory or semantic lacunae which are not simply invisible, but are pointedly and starkly invisible to the masses of patterned thinkers. There are some things/phenomena for which perception by and in one of a given group of people requires a diversity of minds. Ramping up my terminology for a moment: there are some things which are visible to individuals and not to gestalts. The given gestalt ends up having this kind of internal supermap which contrary sensory data gets flushed out by a mid-level code comparison utility, and of course eddies are left over which are not resolved in the context of the canonicity of the gestalt. The gestalt and a given gestalt element/cell/person have a relationship. Seas of identical code runs don't tell you anything individually: either you are at a person level having a discussion and the code-ironing/instances will be important: you're going to be and going to be concerned with schizotomes. Or you're the gestalt itself and the functionings of your cells are going to generally be invisible to you. But you can't, at least in the local embedding context, rapidly shift from being a person to being a gestalt and vice versa.
Now, the above mess is high-falutin' noise. What I distill from it is twofold: if you are at a context which embeds both the post-onctopoate for both gestalts and people, well, never mind. I can't talk about there easily. If you are a person, then please don't make gestalt fealty something you lose sleep over: it will tear you apart/create much internal noise/etc. Also, realize that you do have a choice: "once a Blospasian, always a Blospasian" is name oriented and not data/experience oriented. Are you the code you run? If you are the code you run before you are flexible, then you are slaved to it and its surrounding nonsensica. If the code you run is something which is flexible for you: can you decide what to do and how to do it, then you can make personal philanthropic (and philogestaltic) decisions about how you want to sway your thinking. Everyone else is always eager to run their code on you, and low level code is particularly vicious about its own survival -- particularly gestalt schizotome code that does gatekeeping. The higher order code is more similar, more connected by holotome, but less available because it doesn't have the vicious qualities of the survival oriented stuff.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
horror movies
So the evil maniac, the madman is at you with a chainsaw. It's the last fifteen minutes of the movie. At least, so said evil maniac thinks. You're adrenaline is redlining. You're going to have to take a break shortly. You rest. The chainsaw is in your face. What the hell do you do?
Deus ex machina? Except that this isn't a movie. It's a horrible set of real life chainsaw murdering maniac you're entangled with. Except... that it isn't. You reach out and grab... whatever.
You grab the now moving chainsaw. Some long dormant sequence of processes kind of wakens. Well. wakened prior to holding the moving chainsaw. The teeth... melt, flowing around your hand.
The maniac looks at you as if you had a three heads. Oh. you remember all about this. You twist the chainsaw, and the motor stalls. "That's not possible" the maniac says to you. "I'm a chainsaw maniac. Your hand should be torn to shreds, the ligaments and the like scattering the wall. You should be doubled back in pain. Is this some kind of poorly constructed deus ex machina from escaping your fate?"
You reply to the maniac: "Hey, do I look like I'm writing this?"
The maniac vacillates at you.
You then say: "Have you considered that this isn't even a horror movie?"
The maniac kind of gibbers as you as a passing cheese crystal bursts. The rest of the chainsaw
is transformed into a cloud.
Deus ex machina? Except that this isn't a movie. It's a horrible set of real life chainsaw murdering maniac you're entangled with. Except... that it isn't. You reach out and grab... whatever.
You grab the now moving chainsaw. Some long dormant sequence of processes kind of wakens. Well. wakened prior to holding the moving chainsaw. The teeth... melt, flowing around your hand.
The maniac looks at you as if you had a three heads. Oh. you remember all about this. You twist the chainsaw, and the motor stalls. "That's not possible" the maniac says to you. "I'm a chainsaw maniac. Your hand should be torn to shreds, the ligaments and the like scattering the wall. You should be doubled back in pain. Is this some kind of poorly constructed deus ex machina from escaping your fate?"
You reply to the maniac: "Hey, do I look like I'm writing this?"
The maniac vacillates at you.
You then say: "Have you considered that this isn't even a horror movie?"
The maniac kind of gibbers as you as a passing cheese crystal bursts. The rest of the chainsaw
is transformed into a cloud.
Interview with a Posttranscendentalist Ethicist
Today on Face the Music, I interview Urzhwon Wrengwreathe, currently considered to be the leader of the pack of the school of Post-Transcendentalist Ethics. She has refused the Proongveltes Award, the Stavvans Prize, and the Niueve Citation. She is the Master Ethicist at Solvons Univeristy, Kathavaldy-on-Brioso. Her book, Conversations with Conwren: Demythicised Ethics Auditing, is currently fifth on the most-read lists. Let us begin.
FM: So, Ms. Wrengwreathe, hello!
UW: Hello!
FM: Could you explain to us what the difference between Transcendentalist and Post-Transcendentalist ethics happens to be? I thought Transcendentalism was a good thing!
UW: For the most part it is... with respect to dhyana and human experience it's essential, but in some cases, ethics in particular, it's somewhat backwards.
FM: And why is that?
UW: Well, the problem with first-stage ethics, that is, the type which gets codified into neat little lists of disapproved behaviours and the like, is that all of that usually has a religiously derived moral schema lurking in the background, usually smoking some type of cigar and wearing a dark coat, slinking off into the shadows.
FM: Haunting!
UW: Yes: the extension of primate social hierarchies into rule based control and approved behavior lists determines systems of ethics on the basis of what is not allowed, and the processes involved in assigning fault and blame. Cultures that have to live with the constant specter of blame tend to suffer considerably. The point being an entirely incorrect metric is employed because it has always been employed with little analysis being focused on it.
FM: go on
UW: In the cultures in which blame is a commodity, you are constantly looking to assign fault, or to mitigate the risk of fault by insurance -- which is a preventative measure taken against the putative and imagined foreshadowings of harm. On this shallow stratum, conventional, that is transcendentalist ethics systems have been floated.
FM: Why are they called Transcendentalist?
UW: Because ultimately they do not have any means of measuring what they purport to quantify and qualify by any other means than the behaviours and incidences of parents which have been scarred/scared into the muscle memories of children. And maybe thirty million years of primate behavior, too. Morals sway religious and then there is an even more tenuous basis for those systems of ethics.
FM: How does Post-Transcendentalist Ethics differ from Transcendentalist Ethics?
UW: Because we can measure how ethical something happens to be by quantifying how much happiness it produces. Of course, we cannot measure happiness directly these days because we cannot examine the endorphin content of all the people affected by the given process/object which we want to examine the ethics thereof. But what we can do is to put the interactions between the given object or process under examination and then ask: how does this object interact with its environment? The level of analysis which this version of ethics does is very detailed and would have been practically impossible to do in the 21st century.
FM: Can you give us an example of a PT ethics analysis?
UW: Take for instance, a bottle of body-odor-modifier. We examine the energetic sources of the bottle, the ingredients, the power that powers the plant which manufactures it. We calculate the energetic imprint of the production of the ingredients: we know exactly how many joules it takes to produce this, starting from sunlight, petrochemicals, throughout every stage of the refining process.
FM: So it's just another Odume(interrupt)
UW: Oh no! Then we do the kicker. We find all the people whose lives are involved in the production of one of these, and we find out how happy they happen to be. We ask them how the object/process affects them. How they feel about it. Does their relation to this object improve them? We can answer a question that chresmatistics would never be able to answer, more important than the decision problem.
FM: Which question?
UW: The allocation problem. We have enough information (or will when this method is employed widespread) to say whether or not a given thing/object/process is beneficial or not.
We can say how unethical something happens to be on an erg-by-erg and person-by-person basis.
FM: A little idealistic?
UW: Damn right. But having this level of analysis available just slices the traditional approaches of budgeteering out of the water. The reason that it is mostly unimplementable at the moment is that the primate hierarchy party line is still in session. Which I happen to hear is on the way out in around ten to twenty years at this rate.
FM: two to four I hear, with the current jumps in sensory apprehension and intelligence: right now we're waiting for those meme-complexes to percolate through the populace.
UW: Excellent.
FM: I see we're out of time. Thank you.
UW: Chagga-Bagga-Ballovo!
FM: Next week on Face-the-Music, we'll be interviewing Syllepsia F. Hernwhorl, author of f(x) : Hit-Apes for Hire
FM: So, Ms. Wrengwreathe, hello!
UW: Hello!
FM: Could you explain to us what the difference between Transcendentalist and Post-Transcendentalist ethics happens to be? I thought Transcendentalism was a good thing!
UW: For the most part it is... with respect to dhyana and human experience it's essential, but in some cases, ethics in particular, it's somewhat backwards.
FM: And why is that?
UW: Well, the problem with first-stage ethics, that is, the type which gets codified into neat little lists of disapproved behaviours and the like, is that all of that usually has a religiously derived moral schema lurking in the background, usually smoking some type of cigar and wearing a dark coat, slinking off into the shadows.
FM: Haunting!
UW: Yes: the extension of primate social hierarchies into rule based control and approved behavior lists determines systems of ethics on the basis of what is not allowed, and the processes involved in assigning fault and blame. Cultures that have to live with the constant specter of blame tend to suffer considerably. The point being an entirely incorrect metric is employed because it has always been employed with little analysis being focused on it.
FM: go on
UW: In the cultures in which blame is a commodity, you are constantly looking to assign fault, or to mitigate the risk of fault by insurance -- which is a preventative measure taken against the putative and imagined foreshadowings of harm. On this shallow stratum, conventional, that is transcendentalist ethics systems have been floated.
FM: Why are they called Transcendentalist?
UW: Because ultimately they do not have any means of measuring what they purport to quantify and qualify by any other means than the behaviours and incidences of parents which have been scarred/scared into the muscle memories of children. And maybe thirty million years of primate behavior, too. Morals sway religious and then there is an even more tenuous basis for those systems of ethics.
FM: How does Post-Transcendentalist Ethics differ from Transcendentalist Ethics?
UW: Because we can measure how ethical something happens to be by quantifying how much happiness it produces. Of course, we cannot measure happiness directly these days because we cannot examine the endorphin content of all the people affected by the given process/object which we want to examine the ethics thereof. But what we can do is to put the interactions between the given object or process under examination and then ask: how does this object interact with its environment? The level of analysis which this version of ethics does is very detailed and would have been practically impossible to do in the 21st century.
FM: Can you give us an example of a PT ethics analysis?
UW: Take for instance, a bottle of body-odor-modifier. We examine the energetic sources of the bottle, the ingredients, the power that powers the plant which manufactures it. We calculate the energetic imprint of the production of the ingredients: we know exactly how many joules it takes to produce this, starting from sunlight, petrochemicals, throughout every stage of the refining process.
FM: So it's just another Odume(interrupt)
UW: Oh no! Then we do the kicker. We find all the people whose lives are involved in the production of one of these, and we find out how happy they happen to be. We ask them how the object/process affects them. How they feel about it. Does their relation to this object improve them? We can answer a question that chresmatistics would never be able to answer, more important than the decision problem.
FM: Which question?
UW: The allocation problem. We have enough information (or will when this method is employed widespread) to say whether or not a given thing/object/process is beneficial or not.
We can say how unethical something happens to be on an erg-by-erg and person-by-person basis.
FM: A little idealistic?
UW: Damn right. But having this level of analysis available just slices the traditional approaches of budgeteering out of the water. The reason that it is mostly unimplementable at the moment is that the primate hierarchy party line is still in session. Which I happen to hear is on the way out in around ten to twenty years at this rate.
FM: two to four I hear, with the current jumps in sensory apprehension and intelligence: right now we're waiting for those meme-complexes to percolate through the populace.
UW: Excellent.
FM: I see we're out of time. Thank you.
UW: Chagga-Bagga-Ballovo!
FM: Next week on Face-the-Music, we'll be interviewing Syllepsia F. Hernwhorl, author of f(x) : Hit-Apes for Hire
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
silences straddling the night
In the songs of the distant past, there is a bass note, a dim wily timbral torticollis, a smeared bleary beacon, a bottle of aged acid, a set of loose leaf preparatory jottings and instructions dissolved in ink, water, and oil, a disambiguous arrangement of flowers, a scattering of leaves, a pop instruction from an old laser printer shuffling along the concrete in the waning summer sun, filtered through the grid of a screen door, an tortuous vapor column, sinuously twisting and folding in the humid air, a wax bust of Martin Van Buren, an uncountably infinite set of points stuffed into a marbled envelope and stuck in your old Shakespeare concordance, and so forth, merging like gnarled seven dimensional puzzle pieces magically merging into an image of a sunset, or a bar of milk chocolate being unwrapped by an eager and hungry child. This florid euhypnium lies in the temple ruins, beneath the teeth of a dentally unhygeinic seventy five year old library attendant, in the julia-set adorned stocking frills of my lover, in the cosmic hum, in the serif forest of the franklin mint edition of joyce's ulysses, in the foul diminutives I hear others' relationships adorned with, it is always to be found in the third line of the character table for the Monster.
For the first and third time: I have a bottle of frozen light in my satchel. It's supercritical. I haven't shaken it. I could throw it against the wall and universes would bloom. Whole cultures and singularities would erupt: my interviewer asks me: "why so concerned with elsewhence and otherwhens? Isn't dealing with now more important?"
To which I reply: "But I can't deal with the moment here. I don't have the cards in my deck that let me deal with being here in the moment in more than a perfunctory way: I have things to do, and more to the point, I've seen some verbs man, some verbs! I have to do my best, my absolute and unquenchingly best to import those verbs here, because I am convinced that they could really do some astonishing things here, as best as the local indranet will let me import them. These are the types of homotopies which would make ninety five percent of people's conceptions of angels pop their eyes out of their heads. These are practically nonmisuseable verbs. You can't even distinguish them from the pleated sheats of verbs on the transformation ocean. And this world is filled with people worshipping nouns, writing odes to nouns, cutting out parts of their brains to sacrifice on pyres to nouns, and so on. The assorted effluvia makes me sick."
For the first and third time: I have a bottle of frozen light in my satchel. It's supercritical. I haven't shaken it. I could throw it against the wall and universes would bloom. Whole cultures and singularities would erupt: my interviewer asks me: "why so concerned with elsewhence and otherwhens? Isn't dealing with now more important?"
To which I reply: "But I can't deal with the moment here. I don't have the cards in my deck that let me deal with being here in the moment in more than a perfunctory way: I have things to do, and more to the point, I've seen some verbs man, some verbs! I have to do my best, my absolute and unquenchingly best to import those verbs here, because I am convinced that they could really do some astonishing things here, as best as the local indranet will let me import them. These are the types of homotopies which would make ninety five percent of people's conceptions of angels pop their eyes out of their heads. These are practically nonmisuseable verbs. You can't even distinguish them from the pleated sheats of verbs on the transformation ocean. And this world is filled with people worshipping nouns, writing odes to nouns, cutting out parts of their brains to sacrifice on pyres to nouns, and so on. The assorted effluvia makes me sick."
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
cheirography?
Often you cannot specify exactly where you are, because there's no foolproof way of localizing yourself in tathata.
Fear (Fundamental Explanation of All Reality) -theoretic exegesimals rely on the confusion between schizotomes and holotomes. Often some schizotome is passed off as a holotome. The monism of such exegismals is in major part due to the confusion which schizotomes create.
Imagine you had a tube containing instances of the mandelbrot set, all stacked together. All computations from the onctopoate. First off all, you would notice that this tube could only contain at most a countable infinity of copies of the mandelbrot set stacked together. Now, it's a mistake to argue that saying that "oh, but you're platonism seems to be contrary to the idea of dependent origination. you say that there's this fiber, or this filament of all instantiations, and you seem to be imbuing it with an independent existence. what gives, dude?" The confusion here is between schizotopes and holotopes of the mandelbrot set. Well. We can't really get our hands on the holotope directly. It's not palpable to us in much the same way that the development of culture across ten thousand primate societies isn't directly available research material, and truth be told, data collection is far more accurate than egotistic simulation by a particular species attempting to figure itself out, and then making extrapolations from its own instance of primates, to the entire class of primates: hypervariable surfing is pretty much impossible in autologous contexts. Direct perception of holotopes are kind of impossible for local inhabitants of the indranet. In order to directly percieve holotopes, senses need to be delocalized on the indranet. (remember that the indranet is a prana network, and the do reticulum is tathata based).
Fear (Fundamental Explanation of All Reality) -theoretic exegesimals rely on the confusion between schizotomes and holotomes. Often some schizotome is passed off as a holotome. The monism of such exegismals is in major part due to the confusion which schizotomes create.
Imagine you had a tube containing instances of the mandelbrot set, all stacked together. All computations from the onctopoate. First off all, you would notice that this tube could only contain at most a countable infinity of copies of the mandelbrot set stacked together. Now, it's a mistake to argue that saying that "oh, but you're platonism seems to be contrary to the idea of dependent origination. you say that there's this fiber, or this filament of all instantiations, and you seem to be imbuing it with an independent existence. what gives, dude?" The confusion here is between schizotopes and holotopes of the mandelbrot set. Well. We can't really get our hands on the holotope directly. It's not palpable to us in much the same way that the development of culture across ten thousand primate societies isn't directly available research material, and truth be told, data collection is far more accurate than egotistic simulation by a particular species attempting to figure itself out, and then making extrapolations from its own instance of primates, to the entire class of primates: hypervariable surfing is pretty much impossible in autologous contexts. Direct perception of holotopes are kind of impossible for local inhabitants of the indranet. In order to directly percieve holotopes, senses need to be delocalized on the indranet. (remember that the indranet is a prana network, and the do reticulum is tathata based).
copper tinted orreries
A schizotome -- a split-cut of a fiber -- namely if you have two different instances of the same thing, then, you're not dealing with isomorphisms, but sames, is a difficult concept to grasp. People confuse representations with presentations. If you had all onctopoate instances of the mandelbrot set arranged together in some kind of appropriate topological ordering, then each schizotome would yield a schizotope -- a split-place, a single way of slicing the WSOGMM. Q is equal to itself by obvious inspection. There are as many topological slicings of an abstract fiber as possible, and as many topological orderings of said abstract fiber as possible. The cut splits the fiber at a specific point. It's like a page in a a dictionary with an uncountable number of pages. It's a prana-level kind of cut.
A holotome is within the kith and kin of hypervariables. It's something that varies above, beyond, beneath, and surrounding whatever the current context is. In particular, the particular context is kind of closed to it. Onctopoate theoretical physics and other epistemological onctopoate tools cannot for the most part detect holotomes. A holotome gives rise to a holotope: a whole place, one which is a fully realized part of the do reticulum. Asking "what is a canyon?" or "what is a bottle of cream?" are holotomes. Holotomes run parallel to the tathata manifold, as do holotopes.
It's useful to think of the difference betwen the two as what might be observable in onctopoetically variable contexts. For instance, if the arrangement of grass shoots in a field is changed, if an onctopoate entities were to observe the before and after pictures, they'd be able to differentiate between the two. However, the world is invariant with respect to it's particular place in the do reticulum, i.e. it doesn't matter if the world is instanced as a process running on a Mexel Four metacomputer or in the semiunguloid corpus virgultum of a Rhanchorian sapience, it'll share the same origination, and be of the same character.
Onctopoate creatures confuse schizotomes and holotomes. They cannot percieve holotomes, and typically will mistake schizotomes for holotomes. If you are percieving the Mandelbrot set onctopoetically, then you are percieving a schizotome of the Mandelbrot set. post/trans/onctopoetic perception of the Mandelbrot set involves seeing its holotome. Since the perception of holotomes involves direct perception of the do-reticulum, and therefore tathata sensory as opposed to prana-sensory functions.
A holotome is within the kith and kin of hypervariables. It's something that varies above, beyond, beneath, and surrounding whatever the current context is. In particular, the particular context is kind of closed to it. Onctopoate theoretical physics and other epistemological onctopoate tools cannot for the most part detect holotomes. A holotome gives rise to a holotope: a whole place, one which is a fully realized part of the do reticulum. Asking "what is a canyon?" or "what is a bottle of cream?" are holotomes. Holotomes run parallel to the tathata manifold, as do holotopes.
It's useful to think of the difference betwen the two as what might be observable in onctopoetically variable contexts. For instance, if the arrangement of grass shoots in a field is changed, if an onctopoate entities were to observe the before and after pictures, they'd be able to differentiate between the two. However, the world is invariant with respect to it's particular place in the do reticulum, i.e. it doesn't matter if the world is instanced as a process running on a Mexel Four metacomputer or in the semiunguloid corpus virgultum of a Rhanchorian sapience, it'll share the same origination, and be of the same character.
Onctopoate creatures confuse schizotomes and holotomes. They cannot percieve holotomes, and typically will mistake schizotomes for holotomes. If you are percieving the Mandelbrot set onctopoetically, then you are percieving a schizotome of the Mandelbrot set. post/trans/onctopoetic perception of the Mandelbrot set involves seeing its holotome. Since the perception of holotomes involves direct perception of the do-reticulum, and therefore tathata sensory as opposed to prana-sensory functions.
Monday, October 09, 2006
interminably yours, (Doctor Rollox takes a dip in the sea of infinitusimals: other disextensions)
L(K;j) pleats at the reference of T(4,K,t-g), with extrusions into blobby termagant space, and telescoping fingerings into the scent of peanut butter. If L(K;l) is plesiomorphic to K(k;j,2), then the abysmal frog which croaks at midnight is possessed of a glee currently unregistered within the twelve colonies. If such a plesiomorphism between L(K;l) and K(k;j,2) admits a second fern insertion filter, then the crying man does tell his tales to the homeless avatar of Freya besides the bridge on thrice-alternate Wednesdays in the Year of the Elephantine Exiguence. Now, because of Grothendieck-Dworkin post-stammerer duality, one can construct a sheaf-violation on the spattered y-chromosome space in which the steak fluents give rise to the pobdib afferentials. Notwithstanding the difficulty of numerically simulating the sines of porencephalies of the potential children of semiduchesses in the third precinct of green trousers. Now, if the above referenced plesiomorphism is free of stalk extrusions in the Yohimbe manifold, then the probability distillates of the will not allow a second fern insertion filter K(2,k+1) on the tertiary technobabble plane, which causes all kinds of disease and scandal at Downing street. You can be assured that if you're sitting there with a semimanifold U on a paramodular Nuzbunkt space a, then the fundamental group of U on the divisor function of that paramodular Nuzbunkt space will not admit resolvent ossars and a Bournemouth characteristic function will be constant in the tea domain, and therefore will not be useful in detecting bikini invariant cohomologies of said paramodular Nuzbunkt space. This gives us twelve, small silly problems: one, the butler, Georgina, did not have a dram of mechanical mice to present the Lord Protector at the dinner, two, Lesseuve Smarlins was not able to perform properly at the Rite of the Scattered Bananas because of a hydrostatic malfeasance brought about by a drop of ochreous poison in his milk tea, three Lissa Jous had to undergo ego reduction surgery at the hands of an unlicensed metaphysical surgeon in Oslo, four: Stanhoff Ripibips could not write the letter exonerating us for our mistakes and idiocies at the Battle of the Bulge in Susanne's Shirt, five: I was unable to come up with the difficulties numbers six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve because of some problems in my spleen chemistry that I have been unable to address until this very moment in my life because of lack of proper paraphysical medical care, because of the specific positions of Ganymede in the sky, because of the astrological qualities of methane molecules which are not considered significant in astrological circles because it is difficult to calculate the general relativistic effects of single molecules of methane.
transparinoan root functors and the intonations of Doctor Rollox
H(3,Q)(Q) is psuedohomomorphic to a lemon straddling three ice cream cones and staring lazily at the ice. H(2,Q)(Q) is an orange being subtly attacked by the French Legion. H(1,T)(Q) is a bellyache of a deity in the midmorning of a gestalt's bright collapse at the hands of utter thermonuclear war. The precise contents of the message were printed on bond paper, curled in a tube, sprayed with frankinscence, put in a bottle, corked, and thrown in the probability oceans. Perhaps one of my interlocuters will have better luck with the message inside. I doubt it. You should too! You should exercise your appreciation of the logos and the kairos and the callous kallosness of the acerbic, ascetically astringent gaberdine wearing bandoliers. H(7pi,Q)(X) reverts to the stone masons' guild. It surprises the purple antelope with the green irises on a nasty March mid-morning. It interpenetrates the cosmic brick field. It collides and gerrymanders the random muon. H(Q,2)(C) insults the pepper-grinder, entombs the oft-rollickingly incomprehensible ochre yarrow-bird. H(U,U)(Z) turns the bottom of the tiny wombat in a luxuriatingly disgusting superhero wearing nothing but a plastic thong and a beanie baby.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
spinnaker globules (one fifty-thousandth chances)
Rest, thy nostrils in contusion, thy allotropes of disgust fluoresce, thy messengers doze in the midday sun. Perhaps in the blue envelope merry be a minstrel labrador. Minus Semiackroyd and Semimurray.
bitter: not much to say
Look! Leishmon and Doropadro didn't return from their expedition amongst the Nightmare Machines. I told you that it was a bad idea, with their papier-mache dinghies and their Electric Bugaloo Turbines. Trans-what? Transcension? Transcoherence? Transaptitude? Transattitudinal? transcached? tracecached? Transpartitioned? Translinear? Translocalisms? What formalism is this composed in? Dyzgoa language? Bisphenyl Corotatory language? Yeusg-Phombront radiative neutrino expression signage? The last time I read a Dyzgoa polyrhyme my nasal phalanges nearly underwent exculpatory transparesis! Too much "trans"ism! Transmetaparahypersuperultrosis? That's a nasty affliction I hear. Utter phenylcyclization and didgejombling. And it's a fair lot that you can't have some kind of "new extrusionaries" or "the new reasoning", because someone's already done it already, or done something to render it pointless and ludicrous! You don't have "The People's Pompidisclarian Committee for the Explicit, Unambiguous Expression of Concepts and Ideas"? Do you remember when Silas Arragheri and Melissa Wylhoeff discovered the Transgesimal Underflow? It smelled like dried tempera paints in elementary school.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
transjunctive excision
Choppy turbulent coffee, tobacco, and alcohol scented froths of dulled perception line the weal. Turbid people-twainings and perspective separations lay before thee. There are those so well-off that the clubs and establishments which they frequent serve water distilled from children who have just seen their parents die most horribly. At places like this, glass clothes are in vogue these days: suits and trousers made entirely of glass: some even rigid, with the wearer in some kind of fluorescent undershirt beneath. These people, if you want to call them that, are so rich that they don't need to worry about sense. I'm told that if I dress nicer I'll get the girls, or something like that. Why would I want to do that? Why would I want someone so concerned with presentation that they are completely transparent to substance? Just because you can afford diamonds mined by starving Sudanese children, does that mean you ought to? Just because you can afford fabric painstakingly sewn by a Belgian two year old, does that mean you should wear it? In twenty years the fabric will be moth eaten or covered in smelly organic solvents keeping the moths away: it'll smell old and your best attempts to keep it new and fresh will shorten its life. Even diamonds are metastable in air -- they turn into graphite extraordinarily slowly.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
sinus
the air feels like thin tobacco paper fragments, dried, soaked in week old coffee grounds. it is rich, pungent, sulfurous, aching with caffeine, nicotine, the smell of old rubber, the smell of new rubber and organic solvents. the air smells like it's been bleached by light and everything looks dry. perhaps I'm dehydrated. perhaps this sinus headache just places a muslin gauze of dessication in the air, but as my nostrils let up, I can swear it's not just me who is feeling this. it's in the air, I say, the air. a thin hoarfrost of fall dryness.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
the far longing
say to me, tell me, touch message me, kythe me:
"hey, you really don't suck. you really really really really
don't suck. I want to spend time with you. How can we juggle
our schedules to make this happen? I like you. I'm not artificial.
I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm out there. I'm real.
I exist. I am in the flesh. I am substantial. I have mass and
inertia. I'm not a ghost or suffering from an existence failure
at the moment. I'm honest, but I don't like saying so: that kind
of self-description fills me with dread too: it's just another
abuse of language. It's just another attempt to be dishonest.
But this space is not for me to talk about what we agree about:
there'll be time enough for that later when we meet. I'm just temporarily
borrowing your fingers because in this rather... I hasten to say 'idiotic'
because it isn't, or to lay blame at the universe, because we are parts of it,
but from a hardened perspective, I think neither of us can but help doing
that. I am saying this as much to you as you are saying it to me? I don't
know. We are, have been, very distant from each other. What else do I think
you need to hear? I think you're.... I can't put it
into nonpoetical language. You are home, you are from the same semantic
clade as me. Home is where the heart is? The heart is not here. Here is
longing and a little mess. Flux tubes of coruscating desire furiously
gyrate like iridescent kelp fronds in the ether, like the plasma jets
from the accretion disk of a black hole at the center of a galaxy, like
an evolving civilization, a misplaced metaphor,
a wet shifting glowing geranium scented array of interconnecting
corridors and passageways, oscillating and changing, leading to
delight and disaster, depending on direction and intent. You need
to let go. To just let go. And it's so hard to do that because you're
currently (and sadly) surrounded by people who are somnabulists. You are
more awake than any, and that's a scent of fresh mellifluent lettuce to me.
I am nearby. Closer than you might think. I'll see you soon."
"hey, you really don't suck. you really really really really
don't suck. I want to spend time with you. How can we juggle
our schedules to make this happen? I like you. I'm not artificial.
I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm out there. I'm real.
I exist. I am in the flesh. I am substantial. I have mass and
inertia. I'm not a ghost or suffering from an existence failure
at the moment. I'm honest, but I don't like saying so: that kind
of self-description fills me with dread too: it's just another
abuse of language. It's just another attempt to be dishonest.
But this space is not for me to talk about what we agree about:
there'll be time enough for that later when we meet. I'm just temporarily
borrowing your fingers because in this rather... I hasten to say 'idiotic'
because it isn't, or to lay blame at the universe, because we are parts of it,
but from a hardened perspective, I think neither of us can but help doing
that. I am saying this as much to you as you are saying it to me? I don't
know. We are, have been, very distant from each other. What else do I think
you need to hear? I think you're.... I can't put it
into nonpoetical language. You are home, you are from the same semantic
clade as me. Home is where the heart is? The heart is not here. Here is
longing and a little mess. Flux tubes of coruscating desire furiously
gyrate like iridescent kelp fronds in the ether, like the plasma jets
from the accretion disk of a black hole at the center of a galaxy, like
an evolving civilization, a misplaced metaphor,
a wet shifting glowing geranium scented array of interconnecting
corridors and passageways, oscillating and changing, leading to
delight and disaster, depending on direction and intent. You need
to let go. To just let go. And it's so hard to do that because you're
currently (and sadly) surrounded by people who are somnabulists. You are
more awake than any, and that's a scent of fresh mellifluent lettuce to me.
I am nearby. Closer than you might think. I'll see you soon."
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Sementhemes for Clarissa
Sleeping light monstrous smocks? A mastermind minding it's own minimax strategy starts on Graham Kerr and peers at the bonobos, bleating cacophonously its rather messy message. Haloo, Halay, I saw a bearded Malay smoking a cheroot on the beshingled roof of the Count's summer home, the Prince of Paresthesia, the Pauper of Prissiness, E. Ethwin Mengwharve. The hired help (well, at this point Mathilde was more a live in lover than a maid, and Mengwharve took advantage of her in the obviously concievable fashion) was more like an accident in home misdesign, or home misstaffing. Three bleans of coriander drift lazily down from the firestalks and collide with the nose of Mengwharve's butler Georgius Alois Wartefunkelis, who brushes them away dismissively and derisively, paranoically believing them to be a species of beetle committed to the destruction of sand castles. Wartefunkelis, while not engaged in periphrasty or butlering, is given to writing nasal obsequies to the editor of the New Straffam Daily Buffoon detailing the horrors of beetles. And the scullery droid Y4-Seineproust bakes horrendous Yttrium tarts and mercurichrome souffles which are inedible by the human inhabitants of the house. Wartefunkelis usually ends up ordering Basque-Korean hybrid cuisine from Stan Kowalski's Ethnic Stereotype bar down the street, take a left, walk three paces to the North, prostrate oneself in the direction of Toronto and say five "All your base are to belong to us" in honor of the deity (well, their deity) Strong-Bad.
The villa is sprawled against the stucco houses: the architect who designed it was thoroughly out of her mind. This is not surprising because she decided to donate her mind to the Children in need of Minds Society before said society was declared illegal by the Docent of Sense. The villa looks like what you'd get when you take the finest shaped porcelain pot, all ready to be fired in the kiln, and throw it against the nearest politician's face, and then fire it, decide it wasn't worth a thing and toss it in a disused cardboard box, and then months later it's found by some plucky graduate student who decides that it would make the most fascinating piece of avant garde art, and has it displayed in the closest art museum's galleries to the adulation of the local egotistic art critics, and then gets numerous grants and fellowships while you languish in obscurity. It is *that* ugly an architectural monstrosity. Mengwharve inherited it from his grand uncle U. Propin Mengwharve thirty years ago, and has taken bitter satisfaction that he has used every minute of his occupation of the villa to synthesize a satiatingly spleen-strewn type of decadence, much to the ire of the surrounding countrymen, who work honest jobs at dishonest wages for your X-standard corporation. Mengwharve styles himself an aesthete, a patriarchical buffoon, a pair of needle nose pliers being used to remove a wart, a screamingly abused witness to the clumsiness of the species, an android baluchitherium, a shallow ice-cream spoon floating down the Ganges during monsoon season, a fat man with dead eyes and a loose face who is invited to the most pretentious soirees and speaks deliberately meaningless prose-poetry, a professorial adjutant to the local constabulary, called in times of need, a writhing sex bejungler, a catatonic ant-hater, a notably lunatic ice-maker, and so on, et cetera to the point of personal vertiginy, wherein in desiring the mantle of the appropriate monikers for all of these self-stylings, he becomes the Zenith Prince of Dilettantes and the Distracted, a title he often ignores, even though every reasonable art theorist damns him with it at least thrice a day (sometimes twice, in cases of great duress).
Wartefunkelis tolerates Mengwharve's exuberances, miseloquences, parturitions, parsimonies, ignominies, acrimonies with dizzyingly patient overtures too sublime and meticulous to escape Mengwharve's attentions with difficulty. While attentive and sharp, Wartefunkelis is not a condescending Jeeves, at least not in any way immediately perceptible to Mengwharve. Mathilde enjoys the comfortable high bandwidth communication channels that Wartefunkelis seems to comfortably and sublimely inhabit without arousing Mengwharve's jealousy. Mathilde complains: "It's like dating two men. Essel provides the cathexis, he's almost an engineer in catalyzing it in me, but when the field of focus is dancing the cosmic arrhythmias, he effortlessly arcs over his own head and collides against the opposite wall face, usually to shatter in thousands of pieces, um, well, okay, so more to smash and pulp like a piece of gelatin. Georgius's apprehension of the cosmic arrhythmias is unparalleled, but he sucks in the sack."
Mengwharve has this to say about Mathilde: "My shining radiant woman, my temple of femininity, my holy skirt to ransack and oscill in lugubriously vibratory miasmous pulsations. My scent-factory, my Central Central Womantelligence agency. The Zenir of my Nadith! My core competency! The inner base on which I draw my strength! My cactus! My Welshman of Belgium, my astroplexus of Cantor! My dynamic hip-possessor! My transnational supply chain, my astrological compass! My transpetroglyphics anonymous confessor! My very own mid-Nineteenth century pseudotalmudic French Existentialist philosophy! I scream and cry at the microseismic distortions which her feet make in the ground. I toss with glee at the sight of her body. I am overcome with the trilogy of eros, philos, and what was the other one? Agave? Tequila? Yes, that's it! Eros, Philadelphia, and Tequila, when I breathe her scent. I pulse and shudder to think of her."
Wartefunkelis sez of Mengwharve: "A singularly crimson wollop-wharf of incomprehensible traffic-jams. An undirected summons to the corpulent neutrino of status worship and diseased conception. His methods, his message, his structure all shriekingly declare an unrivaled incompetence. Mengwharve's inaccuracy is studied. His imprecision a work of art. His clumsiness is miraculously developed. If there is an inner sanctum of twithood, he is the temple monk. While I try to lubricate and smooth the confusing, congealed array of arroyos which is his star-stallion of a mind, he continues to amaze me with the buttery clash of his mind's continual malfunctioning."
The villa is sprawled against the stucco houses: the architect who designed it was thoroughly out of her mind. This is not surprising because she decided to donate her mind to the Children in need of Minds Society before said society was declared illegal by the Docent of Sense. The villa looks like what you'd get when you take the finest shaped porcelain pot, all ready to be fired in the kiln, and throw it against the nearest politician's face, and then fire it, decide it wasn't worth a thing and toss it in a disused cardboard box, and then months later it's found by some plucky graduate student who decides that it would make the most fascinating piece of avant garde art, and has it displayed in the closest art museum's galleries to the adulation of the local egotistic art critics, and then gets numerous grants and fellowships while you languish in obscurity. It is *that* ugly an architectural monstrosity. Mengwharve inherited it from his grand uncle U. Propin Mengwharve thirty years ago, and has taken bitter satisfaction that he has used every minute of his occupation of the villa to synthesize a satiatingly spleen-strewn type of decadence, much to the ire of the surrounding countrymen, who work honest jobs at dishonest wages for your X-standard corporation. Mengwharve styles himself an aesthete, a patriarchical buffoon, a pair of needle nose pliers being used to remove a wart, a screamingly abused witness to the clumsiness of the species, an android baluchitherium, a shallow ice-cream spoon floating down the Ganges during monsoon season, a fat man with dead eyes and a loose face who is invited to the most pretentious soirees and speaks deliberately meaningless prose-poetry, a professorial adjutant to the local constabulary, called in times of need, a writhing sex bejungler, a catatonic ant-hater, a notably lunatic ice-maker, and so on, et cetera to the point of personal vertiginy, wherein in desiring the mantle of the appropriate monikers for all of these self-stylings, he becomes the Zenith Prince of Dilettantes and the Distracted, a title he often ignores, even though every reasonable art theorist damns him with it at least thrice a day (sometimes twice, in cases of great duress).
Wartefunkelis tolerates Mengwharve's exuberances, miseloquences, parturitions, parsimonies, ignominies, acrimonies with dizzyingly patient overtures too sublime and meticulous to escape Mengwharve's attentions with difficulty. While attentive and sharp, Wartefunkelis is not a condescending Jeeves, at least not in any way immediately perceptible to Mengwharve. Mathilde enjoys the comfortable high bandwidth communication channels that Wartefunkelis seems to comfortably and sublimely inhabit without arousing Mengwharve's jealousy. Mathilde complains: "It's like dating two men. Essel provides the cathexis, he's almost an engineer in catalyzing it in me, but when the field of focus is dancing the cosmic arrhythmias, he effortlessly arcs over his own head and collides against the opposite wall face, usually to shatter in thousands of pieces, um, well, okay, so more to smash and pulp like a piece of gelatin. Georgius's apprehension of the cosmic arrhythmias is unparalleled, but he sucks in the sack."
Mengwharve has this to say about Mathilde: "My shining radiant woman, my temple of femininity, my holy skirt to ransack and oscill in lugubriously vibratory miasmous pulsations. My scent-factory, my Central Central Womantelligence agency. The Zenir of my Nadith! My core competency! The inner base on which I draw my strength! My cactus! My Welshman of Belgium, my astroplexus of Cantor! My dynamic hip-possessor! My transnational supply chain, my astrological compass! My transpetroglyphics anonymous confessor! My very own mid-Nineteenth century pseudotalmudic French Existentialist philosophy! I scream and cry at the microseismic distortions which her feet make in the ground. I toss with glee at the sight of her body. I am overcome with the trilogy of eros, philos, and what was the other one? Agave? Tequila? Yes, that's it! Eros, Philadelphia, and Tequila, when I breathe her scent. I pulse and shudder to think of her."
Wartefunkelis sez of Mengwharve: "A singularly crimson wollop-wharf of incomprehensible traffic-jams. An undirected summons to the corpulent neutrino of status worship and diseased conception. His methods, his message, his structure all shriekingly declare an unrivaled incompetence. Mengwharve's inaccuracy is studied. His imprecision a work of art. His clumsiness is miraculously developed. If there is an inner sanctum of twithood, he is the temple monk. While I try to lubricate and smooth the confusing, congealed array of arroyos which is his star-stallion of a mind, he continues to amaze me with the buttery clash of his mind's continual malfunctioning."
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
higher order sinews and blankenship striations
Flayed isotropy sullenly marks its own grave. Stark standards bobble and shake in the thin green lines of the ice-nostrils. Beauteous liniment cream bottles evolve from toothpaste jars. Jamboree me a messerschmidt teratomy, all red, crablike, violent, and restless. Project not thy extensions from within the mirrors of taxidermy. Rabid red rust fractals oscill and perfudder. Mary waves foliosely at Gargen as the setting sun rarefacts and makes its nightly doppler death. Gan mates with glans, languorous epistles to Lord Gouraud lost in the etherscapes turn up years later in old champagne bottles. Royalty makes its sad little dance. Princes and parsimonious paupers graciously offer their hands. It's not end times. It's not beginning times. It is no time. The thin deep brown-orange-purple twang of the sitar ululates against the stangstones. Suncliffs and archgulfs misted by icebursts, watercrashes, and steamquakes burblingly bear nature's own no-witness to the events: all is harrowed, hallowed, and lost in the blur. Seminal works by artisans and alligators remain uncatalogued. An era of simplification and complexification melodically intertwingle in the syncopated dance of all sentiences. Thar be an essendine, a burgeoning plume of stacked, intermingling simplexity and complefication finding a yet unsurveyed blood red arroyo in novel equipoise. Gnarled ice filaments tangle and stumble around the yet unfrosted season. Staunch ardworts and lessengues, crackling, blistering, browning and dessicating fall to the ground, instantly self-ashing, their non-nitrogenous semantic constituents to be digested and transfigured into new prosperity. Thinly, the distant echo of unabridged clarion-ring of perpetual, lazy, pan-trapezoidal meaninglessness that is our curse and our sunglasses pulses through the void, scrambling and dancing it's own arctangent tanzy, until the sequences of syncopated waves and exhalations finally is subsumed in the seas of uncordoned suchness. Dizzy sallowals and clasp-aigrettes for the prototypical transastrological fakir burn uncontested and unconcerned amongst the strewn cloudfronts. Knowingly, the art is never yet dead. Someone, whether here or twelve trillion parsecs away in another time-sheave of a far and distant landworld on a echoingly unaeonic orthogonal perceptual space will take it up again, balancing random filaments of chaos with deep contrails of iridescent violet structure, bringing the sloshing wet fury of the dance back from the dessicated paper fragments of the deep.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
a brief summary of some famous bad ideas
Who could forget Simon Tbuntog's Diseased Paradox? Or Martin E. F. Whunkwheeze's Mistake? Or Georgina Saint Clymon's Insanely Stupid Concept which was accidentally released from the laboratory and caused half the residents of rural Chicago to become electric bees for two weeks until a crack team of semantic engineers from the EPA rounded up the idea and blasted it off in a rocket to space? While famous, their effects are somewhat like beetles, quick to spoil and very bright in shiny light. There are lesser well known bad ideas which I wish to mention, so that some of the young'uns amongst y'all won't be permanent orange-laces. There's Silas Congreve's Utterly Malpremised Syllogism, which gave Apricot Yallaby a case of adamsappleosis. And who can forget Noreen Bleenglewhort Johanson's Completely Malfunctioning Analogy which was applied in the Desparitions War by the Bolw-Syllons army to shocking and inhumane (and subsidiarily and more ignorably inhamsterane) effect? Or Hornas Almsby's Accidental Transposition which cost the lives of forty electric tardigrades in the Belgian Merchant Marine? Errors range from the ascetic heights of Irving Dendo's Subtle Binary Straw Indexing Gaffe to the lascivious obviousness of Natronkle Munckewort's Blatant Exipurugious Flamsteed Impropriety. The range encompasses the brilliant clarity of Sylvia F. Wrunkwright's Stunningly Transparent Error to the murky turgid blurriness of Salmitropan Syzgenda's Diallylsulfylhydrylminiskirtamine Disaster, which was proven conclusively to be a non-mistake by Silas Linderby in the year of our Gouraud 201,501,775,091 U.E (Usperime Error)
Saturday, September 09, 2006
nand
Vesicles of raining rational number froth crash. Isolated shimmering fractured swans frolic in the surf. Senile lambs and drugged iguanas listlessly reexamine old feuds while flaying their angst on
the shore rock. Vainglorious semiknights clad only in boxers and garish hawaiian shirts lazily attack harmless rusted iron asp sculptures. HST'S shade hollers at the orange psychic sarcoidosis pfennig-frogs.
the shore rock. Vainglorious semiknights clad only in boxers and garish hawaiian shirts lazily attack harmless rusted iron asp sculptures. HST'S shade hollers at the orange psychic sarcoidosis pfennig-frogs.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Yd. Oypabi. ydcbi C oa,v Cy ,ao oypabi.v
Orm.rb. oace yday ydcbio cb yd. jromro ap. oypabi.v Er frg ol.at Yd. nabigai. ru yd. l.rln.Z
C er bry ydcbt yday l.rln. jab gbe.poyabe rp .k.b ayy.mly yr ucbe a m.ydre ru o.apjdcbi urp yd. ypgyd ,cyd yd.cp ncmcy.e p.orgpj.ov Orm. l.rln. jab mrk. x.y,..b yd. y,r tcbeo ru ydcbio lp.yyf palcenf ,cydrgy dakcbi mgjd lprxn.mov Yd. Lprxn.mo ru l.rln. b..e yr x. aeep.oo.e rb. xf rb. abe br rb. P.annf dao abf ce.a ,day-o ircbi rbZ Er frgZ C eceb-y ydcbt orv C ydrgidy frg nrrt.e k.pf dape ay yd. ogb abe e.jce.e yday yd. ncidy ,ao mae. uprm jd..o.v
,dppe K kjglv kjak tsf mgujk a; ,spp
And so on and so forth ad nauseum ad astra.
Theropods and demescenes slapped thar rascally wabbits. Stillness abated at the crack of dawn. Nomes and telemetry glistened dully in the dawn's acrid glare. Stark storks hithered and thithered themselves to yon. Maseratis and Lamborghinis fell skywards. attracted by unmentionably perverse forces. Samutpadam? Sent tempestuous messages to incite trysts and assignations amidst my comrades? Leavened bread dastardly attacks my cantilevers. I hasten to immerse myself in the poor, syrupy language theatre that is my typewritten text produced while in Scholes.
C er bry ydcbt yday l.rln. jab gbe.poyabe rp .k.b ayy.mly yr ucbe a m.ydre ru o.apjdcbi urp yd. ypgyd ,cyd yd.cp ncmcy.e p.orgpj.ov Orm. l.rln. jab mrk. x.y,..b yd. y,r tcbeo ru ydcbio lp.yyf palcenf ,cydrgy dakcbi mgjd lprxn.mov Yd. Lprxn.mo ru l.rln. b..e yr x. aeep.oo.e rb. xf rb. abe br rb. P.annf dao abf ce.a ,day-o ircbi rbZ Er frgZ C eceb-y ydcbt orv C ydrgidy frg nrrt.e k.pf dape ay yd. ogb abe e.jce.e yday yd. ncidy ,ao mae. uprm jd..o.v
,dppe K kjglv kjak tsf mgujk a; ,spp
And so on and so forth ad nauseum ad astra.
Theropods and demescenes slapped thar rascally wabbits. Stillness abated at the crack of dawn. Nomes and telemetry glistened dully in the dawn's acrid glare. Stark storks hithered and thithered themselves to yon. Maseratis and Lamborghinis fell skywards. attracted by unmentionably perverse forces. Samutpadam? Sent tempestuous messages to incite trysts and assignations amidst my comrades? Leavened bread dastardly attacks my cantilevers. I hasten to immerse myself in the poor, syrupy language theatre that is my typewritten text produced while in Scholes.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
more dispatches from the post-onctopoate
The interlocutor from last week's history lesson speaks again:
"Well, hrm. Invited here against my wrath and wreth to speak. What glorious and umbral joy you must all be feeling at my extemporaneous yattering. Well. Where does that leave you? And this time being shanghaied to speak to onctopoate creatures. No matter. It would get really dull. You know. I wouldn't want to live there and no one I know socially would. They spend their days obsessing about birth, death, love, sex, all the transitories and ephemerals. And then when they get the tiniest bit of awareness that suchness is stranger than they've been previously accustomed to, they employ their phenomenally limited terminological tools to just discover even more frightfully strange places and horrific melodies which simultaneously represent holy anthems and the most obscene heresies and blasphemies against their purported self image of immortality. I could say (and I would be right), that it gets awfully messy, and it does, but I didn't say that. I could also say (and again, I would be right), that it would be foolhardy for us to forget that they are our sensory organs. Our sight is mediated by and through them. We discover things in their world by their eyes, their eyes and sensoria being the most adapted methods of seeing within their part of the flow. They're not that useful for seeing outside and beyond their flow, but their flow is our flow. And thusly, we can't help but being active witnesses in their great migration. Which brings be to a rather nasty and unfortunate word, namely "onctopoate". It's a tag question or expression in our language which falls flat, to the side, collides against their vague understanding. Similar words with less clear meanings are "supernatural", "weird", "odd", "mystical", and the like. But these words address nonspecific kinds of reality frame changes or perceptual frame changes which they only have a limited understanding of. "onctopoate" refers specifically to nontransitive dicoherent space: where you're either coherent or not with other systems, and so there's a set theoretically valid laws of form origination with their world. Consequently, the wholeness superenvironment in which they live is formed by meshing together the skeins of that space, and thusly we get an uncountable spacetime which is gooey and hard to hold on for them. When, say, T. McKenna drunkenly made his little escapade through Praalas square after having taken a tryptamine, and the bazaar dealers at Squales market had such fun trying to sell/bribe him with trinkets and other tchotchkes, and then reported back to the other primates about what wonders he had seen, he yammered and stammered and spoke unclearly.
I guess my point here is twain. First of all I'm talking about the use and abuse of the word "onctopoate". We use that term to exclusively refer to their world. When they get a hold of it and wave it above their heads like a virgin captured from the war enemy, and then start sticking things on it, such as "transonctopoate", "post-onctopoate", "ortho-onctopoate" and so forth, we can't help but notice their resemblence to idiots. "
"Well, hrm. Invited here against my wrath and wreth to speak. What glorious and umbral joy you must all be feeling at my extemporaneous yattering. Well. Where does that leave you? And this time being shanghaied to speak to onctopoate creatures. No matter. It would get really dull. You know. I wouldn't want to live there and no one I know socially would. They spend their days obsessing about birth, death, love, sex, all the transitories and ephemerals. And then when they get the tiniest bit of awareness that suchness is stranger than they've been previously accustomed to, they employ their phenomenally limited terminological tools to just discover even more frightfully strange places and horrific melodies which simultaneously represent holy anthems and the most obscene heresies and blasphemies against their purported self image of immortality. I could say (and I would be right), that it gets awfully messy, and it does, but I didn't say that. I could also say (and again, I would be right), that it would be foolhardy for us to forget that they are our sensory organs. Our sight is mediated by and through them. We discover things in their world by their eyes, their eyes and sensoria being the most adapted methods of seeing within their part of the flow. They're not that useful for seeing outside and beyond their flow, but their flow is our flow. And thusly, we can't help but being active witnesses in their great migration. Which brings be to a rather nasty and unfortunate word, namely "onctopoate". It's a tag question or expression in our language which falls flat, to the side, collides against their vague understanding. Similar words with less clear meanings are "supernatural", "weird", "odd", "mystical", and the like. But these words address nonspecific kinds of reality frame changes or perceptual frame changes which they only have a limited understanding of. "onctopoate" refers specifically to nontransitive dicoherent space: where you're either coherent or not with other systems, and so there's a set theoretically valid laws of form origination with their world. Consequently, the wholeness superenvironment in which they live is formed by meshing together the skeins of that space, and thusly we get an uncountable spacetime which is gooey and hard to hold on for them. When, say, T. McKenna drunkenly made his little escapade through Praalas square after having taken a tryptamine, and the bazaar dealers at Squales market had such fun trying to sell/bribe him with trinkets and other tchotchkes, and then reported back to the other primates about what wonders he had seen, he yammered and stammered and spoke unclearly.
I guess my point here is twain. First of all I'm talking about the use and abuse of the word "onctopoate". We use that term to exclusively refer to their world. When they get a hold of it and wave it above their heads like a virgin captured from the war enemy, and then start sticking things on it, such as "transonctopoate", "post-onctopoate", "ortho-onctopoate" and so forth, we can't help but notice their resemblence to idiots. "
a little bit of history
"Class, today, Nyctrium Spellmnemnote will explain the intellectual history of a primate species"
"Thank you, Nuy. Sorpans. Today I will be lecturing you on the intellectual history of a particular primate species. Their catalogue number is BK34412-Sprung-120/1/4/224@s41#1200n when you set the Arbaghast origin at the Mneuve point of Strovvins and the index scape to be the Snell-Rothman transtributarial shuttered space without Rorse conjuncts. They have variously referred to themselves as "Sons of Adam", "We-Ilu", "Humanity", "anthropoi" and so on. Their history is fairly typical (much to the ire of its religious maniacs).
This species' physical scoping of their universe began with a standard foray from the find-the-origin maniacal monism of religion into the necessary dualism to kick start scientific reasoning. A two dimensional coordinate system was devised: differential and integral processes for determining the motions of objects affected by dualized fields of force were fractionally distilled and developed. The short flat object falls to the ground: it is a part of the gravitational field, not apart from it. The requisite scientific dualism which cleaves things from names of things is, as usual, a major thread in this type of civilizational sequence.
The pattern by which a species first discovers that dualism is a tool, and then proceeds to know how to selectively employ and discard it is always unique, but there are some general trends which primate species have in common. In their mathematics, they discover the screaming lout of formal reasoning shooting itself in the foot fairly early, and usually bootstrap from dithering around with differential equations first to find the paths of projectiles and primate warfare devices, to predicting the movement of objects, to topology, then to category theory, and beyond to nematics and transliteral functorics and still onwards.
Primate physicses are always a joy to behold. Usually they occur uncoupled to various meditative practices which have made the same kind of realizations in the grand scale much earlier, and yet they persist to twirl and pirouette around the notion of finding an ultimate reduction of all reality (FEAR: the fundamental explanation of all reality), and take things to absurd energies and ridiculously untestable fantasy concepts.
I'll take a break from talking about this species in particular and give you an idea of the keysign that a particular species has taken the first steps to really understanding itself. The term we will use is autonoia. A species achieves autonoia when it realizes precisely and unambiguously the wherefore of its own construction and functioning from a nonmonistic perspective. The Stranconid creatures of the Spineworld of Clorselis attained autonoia when they realized their separation from the environment (as well as other related organism in that biosphere) was occuring in the buckytube networks in their brain organs. It should be noted that they achieved autonoia much faster than the human beings have.
Primate species have huge hangups about terminology. They don't like mixing religious or quasi-religious terminology with intellectual terminology. Where science and religion are disjoint this works phenomenally well. Where science and religion overlap, there is disaster and lack of progress because entities contest for ownership of specific parts of the territory. There are unneccesary and protracted sematic turf wars. The minds of human beings run on a fabric of protein tubules capable of maintaining a coherent environment unslaved from tathata for limited periods of time, just like every other diune species in the onctopoate. The terminological angle is that the humans made a microphysics for elementary particle (hah!) forces, and a macrophysics for gravitational forces, and the name for the microphysics became abused by religious and quasireligious charlatans who confuted and compounded the mystery by attributing them to the same source. (that is, the name of the microphysics was rather unfortunate, and once prepended to anything, made it seem dreamy and distant). The funny thing is as their pedants stridently, starkly, skeptically, and pedantically refused to associate the strangeness that is consciousness with the microphysical properties of their brains. To quote S. Klayflon Norhoim: "Your biology has had 4.6 billion years to generate the information processing structures within which your minds reside: they harness the microphysics of your universe with far more fecundity than the limited language-juggernauts which you have engineered on silicon, and you persist in telling me that your brain is some kind of dualistic process which occurs with no regard to the most efficient way of transperambulating information with respect to that microphysics?"
Again, this kind of natteringly limpid rate of self-understanding is altogether too typical for primate species. One of the saddest effects of this is that primate species usually have a balloon phase wherein they think that physical space exploration is important for territorial reasons when resource allocation strategies by different geographical clades conflct and are cast as putatively all-important political, religious, or intellectual differences. What happens 7 times out of 12 is that the necessary gut-and-stinkem balloon phase causes a focus on computational systems, and then a catalyzed switch from physical exporation to mindscape exploration, which accelerates the process of achieving autonoia. Once autonoia is achieved, a given species can free itself from gene-slavery. As Welhorve Scriller said: "I will die. All finite systems in the onctopoate will die. I'm just no longer rushed by a genetic aging program. I have isomorphic software, but am now on different hardware. My humanity, that oft shaken trophy of normative biological thinking is the ability to be responsible and adaptable, to be imperfect. But to be imperfect better. We are no longer played by our genes. We are no longer in their thrall, either by religious commandment or environmentalist insanity. If anyone was in their thrall in the mental sense, it was those people who had ideas which were adaptive to the genes' perspective: don't muck with us. We're in charge. We're the bosses. You have to respect the genes. Don't tinker around with what you don't understand. And commit ourselves to a slavery which we're now aware of. I have to admit, being the result of spamfights between viral gene fragments is amusing, but long terminal repeats, choriocarcinomas, and a whole host of other collateral damage is just insulting. We have also not made the mistake of making ourselves too perfect, since we have seen the results of shallowing the pool. Yes, there were accidents and mishaps along the way, like any other endeavour. But the rewards so far outweigh the risks that you just have to wonder how much religion and rabid environmentalism were phenotypes of the genes control on human behaviour"
So, I'm done. I hope you enjoyed this little talk. Next week I'm going to speak about the actual (ed.: subjunctive) history of human autonoia."
"Thank you, Nuy. Sorpans. Today I will be lecturing you on the intellectual history of a particular primate species. Their catalogue number is BK34412-Sprung-120/1/4/224@s41#1200n when you set the Arbaghast origin at the Mneuve point of Strovvins and the index scape to be the Snell-Rothman transtributarial shuttered space without Rorse conjuncts. They have variously referred to themselves as "Sons of Adam", "We-Ilu", "Humanity", "anthropoi" and so on. Their history is fairly typical (much to the ire of its religious maniacs).
This species' physical scoping of their universe began with a standard foray from the find-the-origin maniacal monism of religion into the necessary dualism to kick start scientific reasoning. A two dimensional coordinate system was devised: differential and integral processes for determining the motions of objects affected by dualized fields of force were fractionally distilled and developed. The short flat object falls to the ground: it is a part of the gravitational field, not apart from it. The requisite scientific dualism which cleaves things from names of things is, as usual, a major thread in this type of civilizational sequence.
The pattern by which a species first discovers that dualism is a tool, and then proceeds to know how to selectively employ and discard it is always unique, but there are some general trends which primate species have in common. In their mathematics, they discover the screaming lout of formal reasoning shooting itself in the foot fairly early, and usually bootstrap from dithering around with differential equations first to find the paths of projectiles and primate warfare devices, to predicting the movement of objects, to topology, then to category theory, and beyond to nematics and transliteral functorics and still onwards.
Primate physicses are always a joy to behold. Usually they occur uncoupled to various meditative practices which have made the same kind of realizations in the grand scale much earlier, and yet they persist to twirl and pirouette around the notion of finding an ultimate reduction of all reality (FEAR: the fundamental explanation of all reality), and take things to absurd energies and ridiculously untestable fantasy concepts.
I'll take a break from talking about this species in particular and give you an idea of the keysign that a particular species has taken the first steps to really understanding itself. The term we will use is autonoia. A species achieves autonoia when it realizes precisely and unambiguously the wherefore of its own construction and functioning from a nonmonistic perspective. The Stranconid creatures of the Spineworld of Clorselis attained autonoia when they realized their separation from the environment (as well as other related organism in that biosphere) was occuring in the buckytube networks in their brain organs. It should be noted that they achieved autonoia much faster than the human beings have.
Primate species have huge hangups about terminology. They don't like mixing religious or quasi-religious terminology with intellectual terminology. Where science and religion are disjoint this works phenomenally well. Where science and religion overlap, there is disaster and lack of progress because entities contest for ownership of specific parts of the territory. There are unneccesary and protracted sematic turf wars. The minds of human beings run on a fabric of protein tubules capable of maintaining a coherent environment unslaved from tathata for limited periods of time, just like every other diune species in the onctopoate. The terminological angle is that the humans made a microphysics for elementary particle (hah!) forces, and a macrophysics for gravitational forces, and the name for the microphysics became abused by religious and quasireligious charlatans who confuted and compounded the mystery by attributing them to the same source. (that is, the name of the microphysics was rather unfortunate, and once prepended to anything, made it seem dreamy and distant). The funny thing is as their pedants stridently, starkly, skeptically, and pedantically refused to associate the strangeness that is consciousness with the microphysical properties of their brains. To quote S. Klayflon Norhoim: "Your biology has had 4.6 billion years to generate the information processing structures within which your minds reside: they harness the microphysics of your universe with far more fecundity than the limited language-juggernauts which you have engineered on silicon, and you persist in telling me that your brain is some kind of dualistic process which occurs with no regard to the most efficient way of transperambulating information with respect to that microphysics?"
Again, this kind of natteringly limpid rate of self-understanding is altogether too typical for primate species. One of the saddest effects of this is that primate species usually have a balloon phase wherein they think that physical space exploration is important for territorial reasons when resource allocation strategies by different geographical clades conflct and are cast as putatively all-important political, religious, or intellectual differences. What happens 7 times out of 12 is that the necessary gut-and-stinkem balloon phase causes a focus on computational systems, and then a catalyzed switch from physical exporation to mindscape exploration, which accelerates the process of achieving autonoia. Once autonoia is achieved, a given species can free itself from gene-slavery. As Welhorve Scriller said: "I will die. All finite systems in the onctopoate will die. I'm just no longer rushed by a genetic aging program. I have isomorphic software, but am now on different hardware. My humanity, that oft shaken trophy of normative biological thinking is the ability to be responsible and adaptable, to be imperfect. But to be imperfect better. We are no longer played by our genes. We are no longer in their thrall, either by religious commandment or environmentalist insanity. If anyone was in their thrall in the mental sense, it was those people who had ideas which were adaptive to the genes' perspective: don't muck with us. We're in charge. We're the bosses. You have to respect the genes. Don't tinker around with what you don't understand. And commit ourselves to a slavery which we're now aware of. I have to admit, being the result of spamfights between viral gene fragments is amusing, but long terminal repeats, choriocarcinomas, and a whole host of other collateral damage is just insulting. We have also not made the mistake of making ourselves too perfect, since we have seen the results of shallowing the pool. Yes, there were accidents and mishaps along the way, like any other endeavour. But the rewards so far outweigh the risks that you just have to wonder how much religion and rabid environmentalism were phenotypes of the genes control on human behaviour"
So, I'm done. I hope you enjoyed this little talk. Next week I'm going to speak about the actual (ed.: subjunctive) history of human autonoia."
gender identity
Some people have the "oh, I'm male" or "oh, I'm female", while being biologically the opposite.
Some people are decidedly and unambiguously feminine or masculine. Some people are androgynous
either by intent or accident, seeking synergy between the two. "genderqueer" isn't entirely appropriate either.
See, I sense the female and male threads in me descendent from my parents and those threads
are, for most of the time, thrashing. It is most definitely a binary and most definintely thrashing. It's
not... decategorified sufficiently for its internal components to blur together. The female is russian, harsh,
concerned with appearence. The male is czech, relaxed, concerned with actual structures and data. The whole
is western slavonic and relatively loopy. Somewhere in the intertwining process neither really succeded in becoming the other, and they're constantly dancing around each other at a very high frequency. I suppose that's what sex is: two beings desiring to become the other, starting with low frequency physical oscillations which cascade into higher frequency oscillations: getting so close together that you've got someone new.
Some people are decidedly and unambiguously feminine or masculine. Some people are androgynous
either by intent or accident, seeking synergy between the two. "genderqueer" isn't entirely appropriate either.
See, I sense the female and male threads in me descendent from my parents and those threads
are, for most of the time, thrashing. It is most definitely a binary and most definintely thrashing. It's
not... decategorified sufficiently for its internal components to blur together. The female is russian, harsh,
concerned with appearence. The male is czech, relaxed, concerned with actual structures and data. The whole
is western slavonic and relatively loopy. Somewhere in the intertwining process neither really succeded in becoming the other, and they're constantly dancing around each other at a very high frequency. I suppose that's what sex is: two beings desiring to become the other, starting with low frequency physical oscillations which cascade into higher frequency oscillations: getting so close together that you've got someone new.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
leeway garamond
The metrical notions subsided, remembrances of transcoherent messages were lost in the ether. Notochords twirled in the wake. Mistral saliences tossed demoniacally in preparation for a tonnage sleeper. Many a moment spent in contemplation of the interior distensions of the ice queen. Next to my wavering inattention, thorough clementines spiralled around. Taffy and slime meshed around and sal ammoniac sprayed unto the vice-lords, smectic layers buffeted by basalt columns and granite protuberances while lasses in classes with tanned basses and chartreuse tassels tallied the measure of carbon and sulfur compounds in the air. Rather unequivocally the messed with the telephone system, and disrupted communications throughout the entire Pacific northwest.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Brolheim and Helliers' /Gestalt Awareness Amongst Onctopoate Sentients/
Gestalt mentalities vary from your garden variety primate religions, to highly meditative practices which link them to the universe. Regrettably for most onctopoate sentiences, there's no good shopping guide that describes in detail the sublime bioanatomy of gestalts. In a staggeringly large variety of cases, most onctopoate sentiences never have direct experiences (it is a quirk of onctopoate languages that there is such a word as "mystical" -- which is shorthand for saying "our science and our politics are too dimwitted to properly and precisely analyze the bulk of data points currently languishing in the cultural information pools.) Nevertheless Brolheim and Helliers do a remarkable job detailing the sublime bioanatomy of gestalts which would be of inestimable value to onctopoate entities (if it could ever be produced in a non-dreaming state in an onctopoate sensorium).
Meditation which uses mantras uses the mantra speakers as signal generators. The signal is used as a clock for a gestalt. The gestalt then redistributes the mantra speaking as needed. Even religions are a kind of gestalt. Gestalts do not have to be explicitly religious to be religious. You see this kind of thing quite a bit in primate species: religions get started and perpetuate themselves through marketing: the gestalt is maintained through interpreted and reinterpreted experience, not necessarily direct in character. Therefore the members do not have the kind of direct experience required to provide equipoise for the gestalt. Individual people have a difficulty balancing themselves with the universe: gestalts provide more information for individual people by relaying more border data to individual people than the person would normally be able to accomplish by themselves. The direction of a species' development and the development of internal gestalts within that species
Meditation which uses mantras uses the mantra speakers as signal generators. The signal is used as a clock for a gestalt. The gestalt then redistributes the mantra speaking as needed. Even religions are a kind of gestalt. Gestalts do not have to be explicitly religious to be religious. You see this kind of thing quite a bit in primate species: religions get started and perpetuate themselves through marketing: the gestalt is maintained through interpreted and reinterpreted experience, not necessarily direct in character. Therefore the members do not have the kind of direct experience required to provide equipoise for the gestalt. Individual people have a difficulty balancing themselves with the universe: gestalts provide more information for individual people by relaying more border data to individual people than the person would normally be able to accomplish by themselves. The direction of a species' development and the development of internal gestalts within that species
dvorak
Naw, Deimos sauntered in the menhir, rambunctiously sliding under the weight of manifold drumlins. Belittled daggers tossed in glee ritually corroded to please the directors tasty relatiwes. Mebbe a rebbe belaboring under the notion of free energy and perpetual motion machines saw the real cosmos rather than an imitation, thereby saving all humanity from the appetites of the Sanpsorrit demon. What a drag, eh, Monsieur Ari Archibalthasar Congreve? Oh, you know that my aigrettes and eclectic apparitions coarsely vivify the delusions or the fantasies of the uncommonweal, don't you? Managed to do whatsoever you wish? Hah! It is that sort of plenary carelessness which salt, saltpeter, or desalinated salt statues dedicated to the deities' detritus and detriment while decent folk struggle against scams and scars. Semantics astride the bellows of misbegotten woes mates with mandated mellifluttery, much to the ire of the local cynics. Talc clambors and quests for random manes slidingly arrayed by the application of anally and pedantically imprecise surveying techniques must offend one of y'all. Natteringly, Theophagus Oroxetes blasted the beadle for allaying the overauditor's concern for the missing gantry operator.
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