hello, my name is mad

What's the point? (a roboversation)

2014-07-11T15:00:00.004+09:00

--------- Music by Shunsine: https://soundcloud.com/aj-moseley ---------

What it Means to Be Mighty

2011-08-31T04:56:00.000+09:00

Actually... what does it really mean to be mighty? Of course, dictionary.com will give us an explanation of mighty as something having tremendous strength or superior power and magnitude. This, however, does not entirely encompass the REAL definition of the trait. If you would be so kind as to bear with me...

One who is mighty, is much mightier than simply one who is of tremendous strength. And the only possibly way for that sentence to be true hinges on the matter of whether or not that truth is inherent in the word mighty. Both may have tremendous strength, but the mightier is always almost instantaneously noticed, most often because of his or her or it's might. To ascribe someone or something the quality of might implies that that thing has power and strength AND MORE. MORE that cannot be described so simply as "power" or "strength". MORE that perhaps cannot be quantified but nonetheless carries with it a relevant influence on the outcome of any given interaction.

In this dark, incalculable layer there is a presence that the mighty exude that wraps those in its proximity into a stiff awareness of it. Each individual instantly forms a relationship with this might. The Id takes the wheel and forces its host into a state of determination to unearth what it is about this person that stimulates their own Ego to drop all other mental material and obligations to pay attention to this person/thing.

And, more importantly, when the mighty one is a person, her surroundings are almost invariably going to be mentally and spiritually weaker. The mighty one detracts authority simply through presence. The mighty one is not the life of the party, but the party leaves along with her. The mighty one transcends cultural and sociological boundaries and resides on a mental plane all her own. And most importantly, she has the power of might. Might that can only be evoked in a situation of extreme pressure or sensitivity. When it seems that there is a draw, or a catch, or a trap, or a stalemate, or that all hope is lost, the mighty MIGHT act. Whatever she might do, might not work. It might be horrible and make everything worse. It might backfire. It might do a great many things good or bad. But it might work. And in this very moment, we can realize that the only possible reason that this person is seen as mighty is because they've done something that might've worked, and it did.

That is mightiness. That is why the mighty one prevails over the tremendously strong one. Or the more prolific one. Or the exceptionally significant one. Because when it came down to the wire, and there was nothing left to lose, and every aspect of domination was apparent, mightiness won. Someone who can succeed on the edge of might is of awe to the commoner, and in line with her own existence. She is a candidate for her own transcendence. The mighty one, unlike all others, is driving her own car. Though she or any other could on occasion lose control, they have the ability and are therefore the only ones in position.

To have the courage to be mighty is the only way to ingest what it means to be yourself. Mightiness comes in virtually every scale and level of existence. No matter how great or small the occasion, there is opportunity for might. And since no one can ever claim thyself to be mighty, and since the observer discerns the might, the mighty must carry themselves with might, always.

And in a statement that's much less obvious than the one I opened with:

""One day, only the mighty will remain::

This is the Weight of Our Responsibility

2011-08-19T01:23:00.000+09:00

Hello my most worthy blollowers. Welcome to the last moment before you realize what role you play in the necessary evolution of your species...

We are all here because those before us have behaved in such a way that our being here has become inevitable. Homo Sapiens Sapiens have only recently (in the biological sense) ascended the stairway to sole proprietorship of this planet. Our evolution was undoubtedly many years in the making (whether that's the "first" unearthed remains of our most genetically similar ancestors - http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/02/0216_050216_omo.html / http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn3814-dawn-of-human-race-uncovered.html - or the divergence of our genus into our modern biological humanity and that of our hairier brethren, the primate family - http://www.nypost.com/p/news/international/item_KSVcJUoawxktxk6UzgGFtK ) and the most significant factor in this evolution has been, and always will be, evolution itself.
Mutation.
Infinitesimally minute genetic anomalies that ultimately trump the peers of their host and reign into the next generation ad infinitum.

However....

Times are changing. Fast. Information does not need to be hand-delivered or ridden on horseback across seemingly endless expanses of land. Information can be transmitted and received at nearly the speed of light (the speed of silicon = the drift velocity of electricity through an elemental medium {see: http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/electric/miccur.html}).
The whole principle of language is founded on the necessity to share and exchange information in order to better suit for survival. Whether that survival is physical or social is irrelevant, it is pivotal to existential health. Since our earliest glimpse at our heritage, mankind has used language in some form to pass on information to subsequent generations. Information that cannot be passed on genetically.

In very recent history (<100 years) mankind has "evolved" mentally (and thereby technologically) at such an astonishing rate as to effectually nullify natural genetic evolution. The whole cultural landscape of the surface of the planet has changed so drastically in the past century due to technological progress that a few generations of genetic evolution have done noticeably nothing in contribution.
Soon, information will be downloadable. Learning will be a near instantaneous process. The need to pass down information to most optimally suit the coming generations is lost in translation, the need has passed. We have evolved out of it.
We can now glean our information from technology. We needn't our parents or ancestors to teach us the ways of this life. That life they once lived is long gone.

We are here. We remain. This is our life. And before we are ready to give it up, our life will belong to a whole new species that once wasn't. We will become the machines that we are creating. And though we call them machines now, this term is crude and will fade as we continue to merge with it. Synthesized intelligence will overrun organic intelligence and we will have no choice but to marry ourselves to it physiologically if we desire to survive (which we will be able to do for thousands of years).

Thus, our responsibility to our species will rely on our ability to preserve an original humanity so that it doesn't disappear before our ultra-advanced electromagnetic optics. For in this original human, this mind that knows logic, but is not bound to it, is the key to our transcendence. In the darkness of the human mind is an Other. An Other that knows no logic and can inherit information from other sources. Immaterial sources. Eternal sources. This Other MAY be rooted out and absent in our next form. There is no room for it in a tightly knit and monitored system of reason and rationality. It has no logical meta-necessity other than to ensure the presence of entropy and in-understanding in all perception. It is the light within it's own darkness, and through it is ascendance. Through it is salvation.

Our time is running short. Do not fear the coming change, but expect it nonetheless.

A Carefully Chosen Fate

2011-07-27T16:18:00.000+09:00

The sensation of death is no doubt perceived by every living thing in a different way. Despite any infinite combination of commonalities, the logical supposition remains: we are perceptual individuals. Our mental representation of the universe in each of our individual minds is, at its core, unique. It won't be until a trial is conducted wherein two genetic clones participate in an identical replication of lifetime events that any sort of certainty regarding the actual possibility of perceptual cloning can be determined. But until then, the approach that each of us takes when our consciousness kicks belly up and finally faces the drowning of the sun will forever remain uniquely and eternally our own. Thus, our lives are inevitably bound to determining the unique result of our individualities. And I gotta tell ya, believing my way into a dualized afterlife that I've willed into existence through my inability to let it's presence fade is not a particularly inviting endeavor.

And as a sandwich cannot be eaten without anyone to eat it, nor can death be endured without dying.

Eat the sandwich. Enjoy it. Do not swallow it whole. Or spit it out if it doesn't taste good.
Consume.
It is your only sandwich and you are the omnipotent being who is solely responsible for determining its taste/texture/color/presentation/bite/zip/juiciness/penislol/kick/temperature/originality/attitude/angle/scale/tangy constitution.

Make the bed you will eventually sleep in. So long as you can keep at least a few toes in the light, you won't be able to create enough gravity to pull you into it's belly.

...Maybe

Is It's Destiny Within?

2011-07-01T18:01:00.000+09:00

Photo:Martin Lisec
http://www.martinlisec.com/pics/illustrations/tex15.html

In our shared future, what will become of the shadowy, elusive darkness that resides within the present unconscious? Shall it be shared with the hive? Or will it be shaved off in the rapid accrual of data and the accelerated merging of minds? Though we may map the physical mind, all those delightful, unknown friends of ours continue to dance through the endless stage of our unconscious, watching their marionette strings multiply in front of their colorful, twisted smiles. When we merge, we will effectively replicate everything of the human mind of which we understand; that wonderful human mind that sits isolated and ironically estranged from the infinite sea of unconsciousness that swirls around it, formless and ubiquitous.

Alas, I worry not.

...It's so much fun already, the fruit of the future begins to beckon as it ripens...

what i've learned i must mind

2011-06-20T15:48:00.000+09:00

it's the fear of my own fears manifesting themselves unintentionally through simply the opportunity for them to exist. and this wouldn't be a problem if the fear i don't want to believe exists weren't something i was very intensely interested in. if this is at all directly correlated to my own mental evolution inevitably digging up these roots in the grounds of my very existence, then it would seem that what i would lose by drawing back, and not forcing myself into this expedition, would be perhaps the worst thing of all for my interpersonal development to sacrifice: the ability to compel myself. the courage/curse to explore that which lies precisely beyond my realm of understanding, and wholly without a constant form. though the sanity of my writing may it times from here stray, i hope the reflected path can at least derive some sense from the accelerating plummet...

Photo Courtesy Si Clark -

http://www.bipolarartists.com/Si-Clark_pages/Si-Clark_images_pg_01.html

a glorious brew

2011-06-16T02:35:00.000+09:00

it is my birthday. such a glorious brew is stirring in my mental stratosphere today

i dont mean it to be

2011-06-10T15:50:00.000+09:00

but it is. the third time, in this case, is where i aim to exceed myself. the first time, i deceived myself of the hollowness of my attempt. the second time, i waved at the attempt merrily as it passed me by, drunk with my own sense of jolliness at the revelation of the third time. and though this third time has not yet approached me face to face, if this is not something i dare to understand, then it would behoove me to ready myself for the blow.

I smile; this will not be the first time i aim to strike with patience.

ILLUMINE

2011-04-19T12:03:00.000+09:00

Please, by all means, enjoi.

The foundling stages of a certain palate I'm not too excited to paint with

2011-03-30T15:27:00.001+09:00

To see my failures reflected in the one-named Sun is too sharp a prick to simply ignore. Too bright a laze to squint through to the other side. And in such a moment of unavoidable discomfort I find myself inescapably face-to-face with a beast that I have created of my own negligence. This beast knows no pity. It knows no remorse, or forgiveness. And as it presses its jagged fingers into my soul and clinches the breath from my gasping lungs, I know that it is not in the wrong. This pain is much deserved.

The Sun then resumes her post of placid observation, orbiting herself in defense, and perhaps also an unacknowledged sense of curiosity. A patience I can not understand permeates her entire being. And though its foundation and form escape me, I yearn for it ever greater. To know its secrets and speak its language sits nearly atop that long list, so difficult to chip away at.

And there I remain, agonizingly becoming my most dear enemy, as this is my only option, save the sacrifice of all I've ever come to know. And the Sun naturally acknowledges her own relation, though this particular hole is dug far deeper than her light can penetrate. And down here in the thick of it, I am alone.
Soaking in my emotions.
Shivering from my nakedness.

I smile. ...for what else can I do?
Sure, some comfort would be nice. But that won't make me stronger. Maybe a little forgiveness might dull the pain. But that won't singe the wound shut. I must stitch up myself. I must suck the venom from my own veins. I must find the courage to paint with these colors or they will forever plague me. Haunting me. Quarantining my ability with an ever shrinking boundary, until all I've left is the defense I so loathe to employ.

And all this, from a reflection. All this, from my own words off a subjective wall. So one is inclined to question: given the subjectivity, why the torture? Why the pain? If it's at all an accurate reflection, why the disgust?

The answer is not so clearly a solution as it is rather a questioning rebuttal. If the most sombering requiem ever writ were to hear in itself a sharp, unpleasant note, would it not loathe the musician's fingers for that brief, fleeting moment? Moreover, can the existential narrative of a soul be understood in such an analogy?

Of course it can.

Such an analogy simply depicts the reservation of beauty within a lived reality. This, of course, exists interweaving throughout every life in its infinite individual form. In this way, my pain is akin to this painful note. My life to this instrument. My soul to this musician. My sound to those ears to whom my music matters. In this case, with this song, played directly for the Sun, whose luminance never ceases to awe me, Yes. My pain is real.

In this madness of my own creation, I am learning to swim. Learning to drain the ocean, it appears, comes next.

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A Supposedly Important Thing I'll Never Fake Again

2011-03-30T15:22:00.001+09:00

Let me tell you what confidence is. It's staring in the face of an illogical choice and finding a reason to justify doing it. Of course, the logic therein only constitutes the concern with harm of some sort thereby committed to someone or something of value. In the case of harm done to an opinion, personality, or some other humanly endowed intangible, confidence is socially proven to both impress and segregate. The first effect is as obvious as the second, though the second takes differing forms. And in the case of the second, the long term residual on any given personality has the latent power to expressly compound attitudes towards the confident one; this of course trending through negative as well as positive mentalities.

I couldn't have said it more obviously myself...

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Something That Happened To Someone Else

2011-02-14T10:29:00.000+09:00

The following is how I've been spending my intellectual solitude as of late:

ctmu.com

After my rapid consumption of Steven Hawking's latest and greatly awaited The Grand Design, I came instantly into awareness of its severe dearth of metaphysical "meat". In terms of scientific coherence, obviously, one can accurately estimate the weight and value of what they are buying in Design. However, it is NO hidden triumph to KNOW that science is not a force. It has no life or breath or individual soul. Its soul is mathematical, algebraic. What science does for the existence of the universe is akin to the influence of language on the deconstruction of love: it breaks it down, quantifies its elements, values their predictive capacity, and ultimately reconstructs its substance in scientific terms through which its true inner heartbeat is unavoidably excluded. The soul of the universe is not within its language. The soul of the universe IS that it IS language. And to say that the language of the universe is something that can be scientifically determined is to say that science itself, a physical system allowed to be born through the laws of reality, is contradictably capable of surpassing its metaphysical father in grandeur through its capacity to define its very own origin, which it cannot possibly do if it wishes to remain a part of this reality, which in its own defense, it does.

The Cognitive Theoretical Model of the Universe allows reality to exist as it is, without squeezing it into a clearly comprehensible framework and forcing out all it's most valuable qualities. Our minds exist within this reality, and science within our minds. To claim that our minds are greater than reality in any capacity is to void ourselves from the very ontological conversation in which we are trying to participate. To go any further one must have some reasonable understanding of the foundational elements of the ctmu, and I wouldn't dare take away Langan's privilege of explaining it to you himself, though with all do respect Mr. Langan, an editor with a different opinion than yours might do the dissemination of your knowledge a favor or two. And so, when you have digested as much as you can stomach, if not its entirety, I won't need to ask you to initiate the discussion, you will know how very few of us there are...

(here is best for your Grand Design:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/0553805371/ref=sr_1_1_up_1_main_olp?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1297647754&sr=1-1&condition=used
...easily worth the addition to the ol' wall-o'-reads)

The Communication. Chapter 1

2010-08-24T07:26:00.001+09:00

The man, now slightly short of breath, received the response that she had become disoriented. For a moment he smiled inside at the uncanniness. Alone in the room, he stretched. His joints had been slowly gaining a taste for it.
This time it was pleasurable.
She told him to wait a while. He had plenty to do in the meantime.

The thruway must run through four dimensions. No longer could an overhead view explicate the nature of the communication. To and fro, as well as about, over, beneath, through, away from, by, with, because of and turning in to (to list a non-exhaustive menu). He to her. She to him. And through infinite relationships involving every combination of the three.
But.
Nonetheless.
The man received the response that she had become disoriented...

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It beckons...

2010-08-19T08:33:00.001+09:00

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The Return

2010-08-19T08:32:00.001+09:00

And the day went on, and easier it was than I ever thought it could be, to return to a similar place as yesterday. Except today the dream units were four-fold. The second I remember the most colorfully:

I was laying in the darkness under a large bed. The light was on in the room around me, though I couldn't tell to what purpose the room served. A red apple sat on the ground near my head under the boxspring, teasing the nearest edge of invading light. Then a pair of women's feet walked by wearing tight little black flats. I couldn't tell due to the overhang of the bedspread, but for some reason I felt like the feet didn't have legs attached to them. The apple shimmered and faded into a reddish-gold as faint little wings appeared at both its sides. The apple flew away and up out of sight, leaving me a little disappointed that I didn't know where it was going.

Today was different in that after each dream, my awareness of the circumstance was immediate. My wits entirely about me. I shall let the dream simmer a bit... Perhaps some advice is in order...

... I think I'll go crook some hanging pictures...

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Not all there

2010-08-18T09:16:00.001+09:00

I've always indirectly known Carl Jung to be a great many things, but never, until today, a sandman. Nevertheless, because of today's brief reprieve I've been experiencing a strange and comforting warmth; a settling of psychical debris.

The agitated, neural history books have released much of their energy and allowed a byproduct of soothing release to course my body over. I shall repeat this event. And I shall do my best to bring here the inevitable sum of dreams endured for the sake of dreaming. Focus and preparation can do naught but nil for bypassing the egoistical censor, but they can also most certainly provoke the beast to stirring.

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Grand Imperceptible Motion

2010-08-03T06:34:00.000+09:00

And so one day, because of his surrendering to the surrounding sounds, he found himself staring, not with his eyes, but through them. And through this foreign-born vision he saw a net of colors and light that shifted without moving. And he realized, for the first time since he could remember, that it was reality that mapped the mind of the grand architect. It was reality through which being was, and is can be. And everything fit back into place again, and was whole.

An Unfortunate Truth

2010-06-17T15:32:00.000+09:00

It is a shame that resentment is so often inspired by that which is loved. Then again, if the world were any other way, it would just be too easy...

A moment passes

2010-05-18T06:47:00.001+09:00

And a dizziness arose...
He stumbled around for a moment, grasping for consciousness, and then everything separated. Time was at once distinct between present and future, past and beyond. And he centered. Addressing the present directly, he carved a new path in his projection and no longer considered the future as it could be, apart from the now; but rather, as it can be, through the now. And his steps grew firmer, and the twitch in his gaze began to grow in the intensity of its vibrations, until it stretched tightly into focus.

His presumptions of the coming thereby proved both more precise, and more accurate. An abstract foresight, reshaping his instincts. And he became like a creature of time, wrapping it around himself and flowing through his days, bonding more and more purely to the nature of each moment as they endlessly bleed by, less and less random as they go...

Defined

2010-05-10T19:36:00.001+09:00

Madness: The state of absence of a direct system of interpretation between an individual's (or group's) rationalization of reality and what is openly accepted as the logical nature of reality. Madness: sanity's un-identical twin; only diagnostically interpretable through an observation of symptoms whose combined amalgamation fails to exemplify the depth and breadth of the origins' substance.

Madness: the literal and unsilent silence of which volume's defining is derived.

Twas The Night Before Crazy

2009-10-10T10:33:00.000+09:00

If there was nevern't a more lethal poison, than he who seeks one is truly lost. For the discoloration lives inside a most perfect notion. And as the spirits become one, and the black and the white melt into grayness, and Love's touch is felt most purely, the invasion is already underway...

2009-09-12T04:31:00.000+09:00

His interest in hats is merely a profession. Should he lose it, he would have nothing else do with his time! Actually that couldn't be further from the truth. He would undoubtedly have much to do with the time, assuming of course he kept on good terms with it. However, unfortunately, it appears to still be six o'clock. I do, though, wonder how he got that teacup so sparkling clean when there has been no time to wash it between whiles...

2009-09-10T03:51:00.000+09:00

A smile always helps one through the day.