Ub 04 (part 2)

Of all the sins in the world, all the horrendous addictions, I would love to say that mine is the least egregious- a fanatical pursuit of knowledge.  However… mine is the first, the first human sin… Or am I imagining that I am so good as to be able to perceive the minute fluctuations of morality that exist constantly in my soul?  Is there a Goodness in the world?  No! This is indisputable!  Goodness is only a front, is only the radical side of evil, that of self-preservation, and that it proliferates from that single Angelic principle loyalty, truth, honesty, modesty, meekness, god-fearing naturally, and of course, love.  We have lied continually that there is a paragon of good, but the rigidity with which we assign the novelty of Godhood is a conflagration only of the inner darkness which we flourish in and cherish, a loathing happiness in the futility and finitude of a human existence.  Beautiful.  The beauty of such an existence is pivotal on the unique aspect of it.  That is, that death is power and that it will be the only standard, reducing all things to nothing, means that the life of something cannot be taken for granted.  It will never lose its value in a wash of eternity, never be some sort of commodity, never be a trite thing about emotions thoughts, or imagined advances… but a complete and unfinished work.  That is Evil, a hole which is large enough to swallow itself and therefore be filled. Do not deny that there is a sense of evil, of untruth, of chaos and futility about all things, for if God existed, he would be the exemplar of such a reasoned through proposition about reality. 

I have indeed been over this before, in an eternal sense, but I do so wish to turn from it.  After all, what man wants to contemplate eternity over death?  Death is the end, eternity, a fresh hell every thousand million years, something horrendous to behold.  but I contest that the best philosophy, theology, and mysticism is the best representation of  pre-life, of our origins, not to something which can, in theory or in practice, can never be known.  Logic has an arrow as well, and it is always pointing backwards in time.  And in any event, logic is what defines reality, as a historical subtext, and even proponents of Intelligent Design  seek logical, scientific ends for their theology.  And creationism was a standard, until logic could provide alternative answers… thereby we come to the belly of the beast, that of God, and his existence.  There are only three avenues to pursue in the course of an all powerful, omniscient God, and they are as follows: necessity, excess, and fantasy.  Yet all of these logically come to the conclusion that  he cannot exist.  It is simple:  logic demands that he can’t.  and if logic says that something is true one way or another, then omnipotence becomes impossible.  If god must exist, as I have said before, what else is he then but some ingrained law of nature?  Life from life, intelligence from intelligence, souls from souls, all natural laws; which is then, if nature  can exist without God, or if it is God, then he must be unnecessary.  Nature is logically needed, and so god must not be natural, and so therefore artificial.    He is unnecessary, which could therefore mean that he can be in existence, and retain all his powers, but we could exist without him.  Such an unnecessary god certainly must keep his created beings, assuming it was him and not nature, in constant earshot, always keeping them aware of his existence, lest  he lose control oft them, which, in actuality, he never had in the first place.   How strangely human…so then it can be followed that he is some sort of fantasy imposed by humans (and surely if he is imposing it, that does not mean that he isn’t in any sense human, as I have shown) and we live happily in a world of lies, mysteries, and only so much to be done.  I have made mention once before that a coin is only a two sides thing, and reality has infinite sides, but then either god or human, man or machine, beast or breezy sunlit day in Essex where the waves are crashing against the rocks, it is all neither a creation nor a natural facet.   Yet artificial is always going to be a statement about the nature of an object.   Damn!  Ah well, I can be happy to disregard the Unnecessary infinities, and embrace that it is all just a bauble in the.  It ends.  A lingering sadness, for me, mere disappointment from you the reader, but least it be forgotten.  That futility is the last refuge of purpose, a heroic, dare say romantic idea…it is only beautiful when there is nothing, and impossibility consumes reality, just as it bore it once. 

And what if nature was created, by Satan, the god of Ftility and unoquivocated Evil?   In the imperfection of the perfect natural world, such a doomed being, struggling against the unnecessary fantastic and all-powerful God, would be a catalyst for reality.  But then that is giving way too much character to a mere mouthpiece, for Evil is an entity that is unidentifiable, it permeates all lives, and affects all things.  And it should, that we may loathe it, and in spiting it, driving away the pressing blackness with our fantasies, we create a portrait of Life, so desperate and hungry and entity will never be known further than the substance we know to live, yet fail to manifest  is the Object.  It is in such a way that all is “I” or that All is “You”  the world may we see that life is given such a broad and short conception.  We speak of the life of nonliving things, the analogies of mind and body, and eventually come to the position: only we ourselves can prove we’re alive, and only to our own minds can this be known.  It comes by such a miraculous paradigm of living death, another heroic and romantic ideology (I say again that romance is what I identify with) , that we either are dead to life, chained by futility to the ending of our own beings, or living to die, proving that by this miraculous futility we can know one thing, that we are, and then to see that we Aren’t , in the  bleakest  sense.  ‘YOU’RE GONNA CARRY THAT WEIGHT’, the final  words of Cowboy Bebop, a landmark  show that uses music and good obscurantist tactics to show what it’s saying.  So freedom is just thought?  Perhaps, and what would be better, to be a god where thought and action were one thing, and to be bound ever the tighter by laws of non-contradiction and so then, our all-powerful  identity compromised, or for a body to be free of us, we ourselves bound to chains of thinking, our mind a mechanism and nature chaotic and free, unpredictable and  alive?  Such a position isn’t going to be argued  in any lecture halls, yet like I said before, we only know roughly 3.75% (oh my fucking God that took a long time to find!!!) of the universe figured out, plenty of room for Freedom to roam, and our minds left in its own kennel.  Yes, our lives are not arguments for ideologies that we created, but rather stories ,and worldviews are backdrops to the activity.  A story has always the same thing happening in it, page by page, and so then, we too may be bounded in the covers of reality that is closing in on us in the distant future.  And even better, the idea that something be lost, a meaning, a life, and never to be found again, presents a kind of existential crisis that makes living so imminent, and a moment in time can be beautiful because it fades away and never returns.  But then never implies an eternity, something which is pointless to talk of, because it make all things worthless… so memory is erased, and impossibility may keep recreating reality, maybe it’s identical, maybe it’s not, yet there is a limit to the logical abilities of impossibility.  If it replaces possibility, then all meaning is lost, and so it would at that point end for eternity, it would destroy itself, and only an illusion would be playing forever.  But then at what point would the line be drawn from this conception of the multiverse and Christian dogma?  The whole point is that if anything remains forever, it is  dead, it is worthless, and it is deserving of hate.  So then, god, you are worthy of hatred, may you be so pleased to have fully become humanized, a polarizing political bureaucrat, a skeethy (made up word alert) car salesman figure, a consistently disappointed father person, and a totally off base stoner Rastafarian. He wins again, because he can lose those whom lose him.  He does nothing, mankind does all his work for him, and he gets all the credit.  Congratulations, may you remain happily dead forevermore!  No, all infinity would be unable to happen for more than a single instance of impossibility , just enough to create the tactile, nostalgic, and futile world we live in. 

I came upon a poor, defenseless idea, you are aware of the kind—the kind that most people just look askance and when confronted about it just say, “OH, I’m sorry, I can’t right now…”—the kind that, in all honesty, is the stuff of heroism, the basic social strata that is needed to build a foundation to humble greatness, what we consider philanthropy.  But at any rate, there is a premise, and a following conclusion: that all religions are in place to protect life, and such is the case of life that, subtlety and without notice, demography is shaped, much like a glacier slowly carving, mountains.  All truly religious impulses, Agnostic, Atheist, Anabaptist, Episcopalian, Eastern Orthodoxy, Et al, all protect life because that is the resource that people fight over, and with it, control.  It isn’t anything unusual, in truth, that life is honored, as to all the other morally great things, but control is a tricky thing in the minds of humans; especially this is the case with a subconscious mass of a shared sense of self identity, as in a religion or national pride.  Yet it is this same sort of detached disassociation from the unpleasant prospects of commitment that allow heinous activity to continue; and in all truthfulness, humanity is by far, the top of that particular list, whether we wish to see it or not.  So, in essence, I seek to challenge Soren Kierkegaard in his assumptions of this extreme and extemporaneous consideration of acts of religious (or, as I pointed out, antireligious) sentiment. 

Devotion is not a sentiment that can be mirrored by people, but by lap animals, or soldiers, comrades, those that lose self existence and transcend humanity.  Nothing is wrong with trying, but it cannot be done.  Human is what you got. Saying that anything like this with the catalyzing hysterical reliance on insanity, whether rationalized every iota or swimming in a Jello pool with ceremonial coy; is dangerous.  Detaching Hegelianism by trying to deconstruct the (interestingly enough) ‘inheritance’ factor of the process is tempting; we want irrationality, we see irrationality, we know irrationality exists, and for certain, I myself have shown that it needs to occur, at the very least one time.  Subconscious impulses are themselves an insane thing to quantify and diagnose because, like was also remarked, Freudian, or for that matter, Adlerian, or Jung’s theories have no negative empirical consequences.   One can try to negate the effects of the river, or go with it, but in truth, all you have is a water simulation, no two ways about it.   Me and Kierkegaard had similar, if not the same motives: make others think for themselves, and then try and exemplify that half of a human which isn’t utterly predictable.  However, aestheticism is without a doubt, the same as religious impulse, a subjective experience that is supposedly captured by an action, in cases of painting, music, theatre, and I need not continue.  The connections between all the harmonizing effects of mathematics, language, and theology (All of which come under new names of late: physics, Memes, and philosophy, respectively) are all formed by an attempt to capture these ‘moments’, which are all neurological, pun intended as well as not.  Brilliance, dejection, and hope are all just these things which make us “do”; and if we are how we act, then I suppose this type of dilemma was imminent, pervasive and concrete.  Soren, too many unnecessary distinctions.

But stupidity and determination to remain thus will achieve the same effect:  control in losing control. That was to be the main theme, that people disguise self control with acts of supposed ‘faith’; by assuming that something is out of their hands, they absolve their guilt.  People often cover up pain with pain.  People loath emptiness inside them, interestingly, the exception for Taoists, which seek peace in that inner void, very novel. Yet still, all of it in the name of saying, unequivocally, “what problem?”  They give control to make believe that they mustn’t do what it is that’s right and true.  That anyone would think that there is nothing wrong with any idea, that there is something exemplary with any persona beyond reason is well, beyond reason.  The more chaos, the more that must be done and remain unaccomplished because they have left it up to something bigger than themselves.  Not that there is any way to fill some problems, acknowledgment is often the only way to address a problem such as “what is 2/0?  OR ‘0/0’ for that matter; is it anything, nothing, or a very particular undiscovered something; is it even a damn number at all!!? Nihilism, possibly, but that would be putting far too much faith in the idea that there is nothing worth searching for.  Search as if looking for something worth finding, that is what keeps the world alive, as Voltaire put it, and I re-quote, “Let us cultivate our garden’.  805 words, I’m positively giddy at the prospect! I never really expected to get this far with a mere epiphany or two! I can keep adding small changes, like the nest egg won’t stop growing; a veritable garden of prose, how noble! All the way up to 868 words. 

No reliance on anything but pure                                                                               Any proper self correction, a reference to an identity that exists separate from

 function for living,                                                                                                                 the body, is good enough to be alive.  So, AI, the universe, Mobius woodcuts,

not minding the shallowness of every                                                                    

 contrived reality                                                                                                                    difference

a new plant put into the soils of

emptiness, a willing page, a proper

oh, there we go, another 42                                                                                           it’s all enthralling!  But then death and life, another distinction without a

words! Fine, here’s some more.                                                                                  But let’s mock these maintenances, destroy something in beautiful death that gives life  in the same

                                      Forced, shallow, broad ocean of existence

                                                            Bu1 3nough

 

 

Half and half of insanity, and even more so is the need to be on that marker.  1 only is halfway into something, then halfway out, half in the center of things, half on the outside.  You can slice it as thinly as you like, but there is always going to be two, at the very bottom of things.  Mind and matter, life and death.  Heaven, and earth, oh and hell too, which really is extra, a place of utter humanity, chaos. But I am babbling, going on about the last of things I care to write about.  With a whimper does all greatness go, all actors show their bravado.  But aren’t we all puppets, or by some miracle, freedom is only given to select few?  But no, if one is free, he would be freeing others accidentally, or entrapping himself.  The world is far too complicated for anything other than information to pass without notice, and it too, will end and be forgotten, as is its nature I deem.  After all, nothing is more worthless than eternity.  Nothing ever increases except the things that never increase in value, but always are a debt.  Space and time, matter and energy, work and stupidity, all things that ever go on in greater numbers.  It would take an infinity to remove such things from the universe completely, and so it is, impossibility is a double edged sword, that is the abrupt beginning and end.  Is there a fullness of life in this plane, stuck between the Abyss and the Great Beyond?  Surely not, and can anyone lament not being deprived of the uselessness of hope or despair?  I should pray not…

Now, about that movie (yes, I did watch it); It works so well that I should be so compelled to write out the whole number, in its entirety.  A joke of course, there was more than one number.  I still would like to see T-shirts, this ought to be, truly, a cult classic.  The cinematography was brilliant, and yes, that word is used pretentiously and possibly incorrectly; sometimes the dramatic motions of camera shots really was comical, to tell the truth.  Nonetheless, that there be a different take on numerology, as Sol stated that is what it did deteriorate into by the end.  Interesting that of so much, that the numbers generated by Euclid only showed up by someone’s dabbling with the numbers…  Determinism sure is a bitch.  It really was novel moviemaking, and that is to be taken exactly thus:  it was an un-rendered book, and it would have been enthralling as a book.  Spirals were a sufficient answer to my biting disdain for the ‘perfect’ numbers, pi and so forth.  These are all approximations given by nature to a certain degree, ellipses are far for realistic, and then even these ellipses have elliptical orbits.  Spirals may very well be the answer to that particular dilemma, though fractals are A. more elegant and striking than spirals B. more chaotic and easily producible than spirals, and C.. the universe appears more fractal than just about anything else, one the same levels (neurological, cosmic, floral, ect.) That the computers would call out god’s name is ironic and interesting, that they are all in heaven, computing their little asses off… cute.  Max sure made a big deal about his hand twitching, but really, wouldn’t he have been used to it by now?  Anyway, the whole thing was well done, good music and all that.  I like how they rigged up this thing for his injections; they were really pushing for the whole drugs and sex thing in a movie about math.  It really is comic.  Oh well.

Ants are fitting, because they are wholly blind and stupid creatures, yet together they can accomplish nearly human intellectual works, their cities, their cultivated aphid herds and fungi gardens, their problem solving skills and intense language.  Human brains operate on exactly the same principle, and the collective effort of all the different areas of the brain (You better have read that chapter!!) are assessed and passed of as one thought.  Even the most complicated ideas only give shadows of this network.  But, all art is imitating life, and life is never satisfied. A coup de etat will happen in the best of us, and so a whole new dynamic is revealed.  A few words closer, so close… 739, to be exact, and until now wrong.  You see it was the extr two words of self reference, “until now” that utterly changed the nature of it.  It begs the question: why settle for perfection?  Being only .00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001×10-13  off would be enough to give us all the error to create and destroy and go on forever.

Having said that, why not forever?  Because then, and after such a period, the perfection would be realized, an impossibility.  No matter what, time therefore is finite, for we can never seek, or rather, attain the impossible because we are the full grown progeny of god and his ilk, so we need him not, and desire him not, only do we desire to love the ubermensch.  In a form, they worshiped the past, that which Nietzsche loathed , while he sought the future; and although futile, is not any act worth doing in remembrance, ceremony, or heroism suffused with that bleak light that we mortals contemplate as ‘eternity’?  We see glory as that light, yet so low and sad are our terms for forever, lower than computing perfection, lower than surviving only to live in the spirit of spite.  When we seek others glory, it truly is in that void of personal accomplishment, as was stated by a brilliant thinker.  If I leave it as that, I can write a small memorandum that will tally enough to put me over the top. 

1948

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