The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of paraheliotropic trees

bonebrushing the edges of the res interna (upper transcend)

Month: March, 2011

The All Together

Someone, some hypothetical someone, some higher power, some higher being, out there, looking down on it all, seeing all, seeing everything we do, the Internet is like that, sort of, sometimes, shadows, shadows of intention;

who is It who sees all? No one real, but someone not real, Imagined?

How I feel about that one

Strange how I feel about that one. L. Could it be one. Such idolatry there, such deep and abiding awesomeness I sense in her, or at least the ghost of awesomeness — on some fundamental level I feel unworthy — whether in wisdom, tongue, or song — she is cooler than me, and I have always been enamored with cool — and looking at dopey pictures of her with her sweet & dopey boyfriend — looking at unpretty pictures of her in the morning or bundled up — and his simple ragged beard —

What elitist craziness that sees in her the epitome & thinking mine own self my own epitome seeks a Nietzchean uberpartner — they call it loving the idea of her — all the wrong things —

Went wrong there somewhere. Reaching. Pedestaling. Walter Berglund idolizing. No one wants to be an idol. We are blood, and piss, and shit, and tears, and fatness, and a host of imperfections — and me and mine Romantic Eye gilding ordinary women with the sterile Perfection — who wishes to live like that forever —

Not like N.S., whom I love with all of her imperfections, not idolized, but loved — love anyway, love when she’s beautiful, love when she’s not, in sickness, in health, in good times, in bad times —

And yet there’s nothing there too.

Others. But not there yet. So long since I’ve — hmm and hmm. Again.


Marxism. Alienation of Work. Everybody has to serve somebody. The hollowing out.

The strange tension & frisson between Now & Then, and how the Young do not feel the push & pull of Now & Then so irrevocably, but only the perspective of a number of decades can give one that Spooky Action At A Distance — that Quantum Entanglement — that strange techne called Memory that imprints and records the Outer World even as the Outer World dissolves into mere imagination and becomes anything else.

So yes. Some of the Characters could be that. In terms of Moving Rocks. The Now & Then tension of a child, moving  rocks, on the beach (first memory of beach ever) — and then the young kid, doing homework or not doing homework and instead playing video games — and then the young working man — and the woman — and disappointment — and not disappointment — and the occasional night music — and the whitening in our beards — the endless new apartments — the flashbulb perfect memories of picture perfect days — me in black, her in white — sweat on forehead, pushing — kids — still, going to work — what have you accomplished by now — cold winds on autumn days, going to work again, ever after strange that you are not going to school —

Ten thousand biographies. Work, and life.

Franzen’s Rules for Writing

Always is

Isn’t that how it always is. Always a surprise. Always a surprise.

Who am I

Ifindmyselfaskingnow and again as I’ve left the streams and rivers of tumultous childhood, youth, adolescence, and find myself now in a flimsy craft in the great ocean of the rest of my life.

I am working a lot. Other people’s projects, which is nice and liberating. Marx never talked about the great pyschological soothing that comes from alienating one’s self from one’s labor.

Perhaps I am not fully actualized. Nevertheless, it is pleasant to turn time into stuff without having to have made the stuff ourselves. Thus — the postmodern trap. The Matrix sucking us in. Simulations. These hands, these appendages, the rawness of our resources — hidden behind the curtain, shipped overseas to Chinese workshops — Foxconn, and factory campuses and the Second Industrial Revolution — whereas I, more clever, or more educated, or having found something narrower to do, moves around logic gates & electrons across sculptures made of sand —

Not really. I touch the very fabric of the law, of power, to shift the world in little ways — modal logic, and its inevitable progeny, responsibility.

Who am I, though? The alienation makes myself an appendage — my cleverness belongs to someone something else — what do I believe? What do I believe in? In Philadelphia now, but what next — how will I conquer it? Bored? Maybe. Not bored. Distracted.

Giving up women for lent. Need to pause and catch my breath. Who am I?

from Pappus of Alexandria

….the soul which by error or heedlessness discovers or reveals anything of this nature which is in it or in this world, wanders [thereafter] hither and thither on the sea of non-identity immersed in the stream of the coming-to-be and the passing-away, where there is no standard of measurement. This was the consideration which Pythagoreans and the Athenian Stranger held to be an incentive to particular care and concern for these things and to imply of necessity the grossest foolishness in him who imagined these things to be of no account.


A kaleidoscope is a circle of mirrors containing loose, colored objects such as beads or pebbles and bits of glass. As the viewer looks into one end, light entering the other end creates a colorful pattern, due to the reflection off the mirrors.

Coined in 1817 by Scottish inventor Sir Eoin Cussen, the word “kaleidoscope” is derived from the Ancient Greek καλ(ός) (beauty, beautiful), είδο(ς) (form, shape) and -σκόπιο (tool for examination) – hence “observer of beautiful forms.”


Biopower, and Abstraction

outlaw — placing yourself outside the protection of the law, and thereby allowing the State to use the full force its power & coercion against you — the right of the state to imprison or coerce is not so much a right as an aknowledgment that the criminal has declared war on the Body Politic by refusing to accept its sovereignty, and in return, the criminal has rejected the Politic’s own self-restrictions & protections normally granted to its citizenry.

Thus, in ancient times, before the Civilized World expanded to encompass the entire world, the traditional punishment was exile or outlawry. Today, where the Body Politic asserts its own comprehensiveness, outlaws are instead incarcerated & and placed in inverted wildernesses known as prisons, where the Body Politic sends its hunters to maintain its power and a different type of control than it exercises within the world behind the prison walls.