Monthly Archives: November 2006
living with people you meet online.
right now I”m in deep with an idea,
a fiction. and to couch it in words half dripping
with meaning, under verboten skies, the dreams
of depicting within verbosity
only a few will pierce this viel. but meaning?
what is meaning? what we bring to the table
what we signify, or something far more, far greater, than the sum
of these disparate parts?
I happen to think we are thee totality of our parts, that the sum of a man
is the sum of the self at its moments of full expression.
and who the fuck is Howard Campbell?
here it is and I look back through my own posts, the posts of others, of admitted neurocam agents, of various convergences in subculture,
and I see this Vonnegutian fiction of Howard Campbell jutting out of myspace, and in sooth twas I, perhaps, who incited this shit somewhat, but still I had no hand in the greater memetic placement.
weirdness abounds, is it weird enough for you Hunter?
do they still stalk the wild buffalo?
no one gives a sht any more.
nothing but soulless, nothing but the yibber jabber.
the redundance, the infinite regress, the ///
mimesis of memetics
fuck, that fractal math was suspect from the get-go, but on retrospect staring at fractals choking the hallucinatory masturbatory experience, you see infinite regression as some supernatural equation, when really it’s just lust of the dice.
fractal motherfucking madness, I saw Regina and it was Yannic Silver. better silver than sulphur.
er, whatever… the words beat their way onto the page at this point, I am an unwitting avatar.
but yeah, we’re staring at the name above the title
wondering why I haven’t blogged about the whole
moving, living with fictional characters.
truth is I knew McFing, back in Kansas
Knowing Howard Campbell
it’s quite a bit the same.
Reality twists to accomodate
That’s pretty much the way of things.
I wish I could say that I found that bit of wisdom in the Tao.
It sounds like something you’d read in the tao.
but it’s more like something I would say in person.
anyway. peace. tell me what you think.
Flames licked the cedar logs filling the air with scent and blasting heat. He sat in the overstuffed chocolate leather armchair with the heavy cloth bound first edition open on his lap. On the side table was a notebook, a pen, his brandy and the Hebrew-English Dictionary.
He was reading silently, he had learned the hard way long ago not to read aloud from these tomes. He replaced the cloth bookmark and bent around to scribble a note about arm positions in the beginning part. He took a sip of his brandy and adjusted the blanket over his legs before returning to his reading, repressing the urge to sound out the barbarous name. Yes, he thought to himself, this will make for an interesting Saturday -those witches won’t know what hit them.
There are probably people on MySpace and Livejournal who only have you friended so they can get inside your trust-barrier, discover all your crazy secrets and laugh about you behind your back.
There was nothing for me to argue with. I’ve been through all those thoughts time and time again, ages ago.
No man, no baby, no other person is the answer to my existence. I am the answer.
My soul is not pure or impure. And depression is not a death sentence. My depression is meaningful and functional.
This brings to mind the idea of warring mytho-timelines, the timelines recorded and enforced by Europeans and those remembered and fought for by Moors and Amer-Indians. A very interesting way to move the ethers, if you don’t mind me saying.
(He asks for clarification.)
Well, what I mean is…
Its kind of complicated, but…
In schools here in America, we are taught certain things about the past that we inevitably rely on as “The Truth” (at least early on until we realize how much of history is bullshit that is made up by “the victors”). One of those things we are taught is that the only people who lived here in America before Columbus “discovered” it were Amer-Indians.
When you start to insert a different opposing timeline into the collective unconscious, I personally think you can change a lot this way. You change the way people think about the past and in that way, oddly, you begin to change the past.
Does that make any sense?
To rewrite the mythology of history is a big thing.
I’m very fond of the faerytales. They are pretty and they do provide a measure of meaning in an otherwise meaningless world. It’s too sad to most people to think there’s no meaning to existence other than what we give it and what we take for ourselves, but I find that rather empowering. I was wondering around wondering about my purpose in the grand scheme of things until I realized that meaning was not going to just arbitrarily seek me out and find me and that I had to define my role for myself.
So that’s what I’m doing daily.