Slippery Alternatives - Liquefied Internals
Livejournal is too daunting and I know I will end up writing too much->pushing beyond the initial creative impulse->copying and pasting the entry to notepad, where it can be promptly forgotten. I only used to go on Facebook to post thoughts when I was pretty drunk, and then I just stopped going on there altogether to write. Sometimes I write on Tumblr, but it doesn't feel very satisfying, doesn't feel like the right fit for long-form ruminations.
Now it seems like, when the writing juices are flowing, there is a burst of desire to post, stream of consciousness, to Livejournal. I used to do this oh so easily back in the day. Such impulsive never goes very far when planned. I feel as if natural aging explains this erosion of creative energy, but I would also argue that the Internet itself is now a kind of pariah to potential creative energy; If you're not there [here], you may miss something.
^ ^
@ @
"
~
*Rare moments last week reminded me of how work can be fun, like playing. I was following an unlicensed food truck around, trying to catch him, picking up speed, Iron Maiden’s “Number of the Beast” cassette playing on the beat up car stereo. There were moments were I did my best to sing along while careening over pothole strewn roads, and experienced flash backs from 2009 (when I used to clean post offices, and sang along to power metal in the car often).
*Art feels more like an obligatory job sometimes. There’s a lot of that feeling lately because I’ve taken on so many projects. I know I shouldn’t say yes to everything that comes at me, but it’s impossible to break my childhood conditioning [accept every opportunity]. Obviously, opportunaties in this case are assumed to be positive, and honestly - when it comes to invitations to show my work in public my usual pessimistic outlook is overshadowed by the persistence of the question, "why not?"
*I hate doing things like checking my "professional" email account, and researching financial shit for my job, renewing my car insurance and wondering if I should look around for a different policy, asking questions about taxes and such out of necessity because I am ignorant but wholly uninterested, poorly pretending to care about pensions and my AXA account - measly nest eggs that will fail to hatch, collecting quotes for services that are necessary but extremely boring and frustratingly mandatory, (similarly) complying with government extortion and corporate molestation. Wish I could flee but looking back at all successful escape attempts from a 2018 POV, it is grimly accepted that there is nowhere to run to;all past breakaway groups were infiltrated, threatened with violence, and/or decayed from inside.
Fulfilling escape cannot be found on the information superhighway, nor can it be found in the fleeting "lift off" moments which occur during the onset of certain psychoactive states. I don't get off on other people's personal drama/local, national, or global tragedies, and neither do I carry the will to convert the spiritually lost/politically uneducated - I can't really care about absurd goals such as beating cancer or making sure no one in the world goes hungry, etc. It's not that these latter ideals are worthless garbage or something, but rather that they are the results of impersonal mechanisms, which cannot be halted by human willpower.
It could very well be due to my upbringing, but these past 5-10 years seem marked by a sense of consensus acceptance of a future that is bleak and devoid of tangible humanity/human joy. If it's not the political tribal war, it's the dying biosphere/rising sea levels. If it's not the slow death of the current economic paradigm and the loss of jobs to automation, it's the acceleration towards superhuman intelligence. I can't really say that I am looking forward to anything epically terrible happening, but prolonged death in a comfortable living room - entertainment cube is somehow more disappointing right now.
In any case, there is a stronger undercurrent of anxiety in everyone and everything, or so it seems to me. Maybe it is just me though. I am quite anxious by nature, and anxiety levels are nearing the point that my mind is over-saturated.
A less stressful environment would decrease anxiety but there is no such place here, right now (except for within yourself). Cyberspace is not the place - social media time begets an urgent anxiety that is so far removed from the Internet I remember.
I always want to say something when I log on, but the anxiety of social media is, for me, even more pronounced after long periods of disconnection, and I flee before I can commit to writing anything. It's very hard to manage. Ignoring social media platforms is not very smart, so I maintain a distant presence.
Being anxious so often is not logical, but then, the advent and continuity of "life" is just as absurd, and yet it persists despite not making any sense. It would seem to me that feeling anxious cannot be stopped. Battling against it is futile in the long run. A while ago I had some experiences where I successfully relinquished ownership of anxiety. Insomnia, for example, became much less all-consuming/terrifying once attention was genuinely diverted away from the struggle to fall asleep. I think I have probably written about this before, and it was probably my last successful attempt at overcoming illogical anxiety.
Anxiety is "overrepresented" because of increased imagination + hyper- awareness of time/cessation (death), short attention span, and regular application of critical thinking. Endless analysis is generated mentally, the body becomes stiff, anger seems to forever be peaking in intensity. Hard to calm down, but even harder to break out of the post-anxiety procrastination state/fog of indifference. Disowning anxiety is more difficult when it comes to more abstract issues, like being in debt (for example), but it is easier to process the anxiety that comes with debt, than it is let's say, the anxiety that erupts with a surprise accident (like a sudden flat tire).
Now it seems like, when the writing juices are flowing, there is a burst of desire to post, stream of consciousness, to Livejournal. I used to do this oh so easily back in the day. Such impulsive never goes very far when planned. I feel as if natural aging explains this erosion of creative energy, but I would also argue that the Internet itself is now a kind of pariah to potential creative energy; If you're not there [here], you may miss something.
^ ^
@ @
"
~
*Rare moments last week reminded me of how work can be fun, like playing. I was following an unlicensed food truck around, trying to catch him, picking up speed, Iron Maiden’s “Number of the Beast” cassette playing on the beat up car stereo. There were moments were I did my best to sing along while careening over pothole strewn roads, and experienced flash backs from 2009 (when I used to clean post offices, and sang along to power metal in the car often).
*Art feels more like an obligatory job sometimes. There’s a lot of that feeling lately because I’ve taken on so many projects. I know I shouldn’t say yes to everything that comes at me, but it’s impossible to break my childhood conditioning [accept every opportunity]. Obviously, opportunaties in this case are assumed to be positive, and honestly - when it comes to invitations to show my work in public my usual pessimistic outlook is overshadowed by the persistence of the question, "why not?"
*I hate doing things like checking my "professional" email account, and researching financial shit for my job, renewing my car insurance and wondering if I should look around for a different policy, asking questions about taxes and such out of necessity because I am ignorant but wholly uninterested, poorly pretending to care about pensions and my AXA account - measly nest eggs that will fail to hatch, collecting quotes for services that are necessary but extremely boring and frustratingly mandatory, (similarly) complying with government extortion and corporate molestation. Wish I could flee but looking back at all successful escape attempts from a 2018 POV, it is grimly accepted that there is nowhere to run to;all past breakaway groups were infiltrated, threatened with violence, and/or decayed from inside.
Fulfilling escape cannot be found on the information superhighway, nor can it be found in the fleeting "lift off" moments which occur during the onset of certain psychoactive states. I don't get off on other people's personal drama/local, national, or global tragedies, and neither do I carry the will to convert the spiritually lost/politically uneducated - I can't really care about absurd goals such as beating cancer or making sure no one in the world goes hungry, etc. It's not that these latter ideals are worthless garbage or something, but rather that they are the results of impersonal mechanisms, which cannot be halted by human willpower.
It could very well be due to my upbringing, but these past 5-10 years seem marked by a sense of consensus acceptance of a future that is bleak and devoid of tangible humanity/human joy. If it's not the political tribal war, it's the dying biosphere/rising sea levels. If it's not the slow death of the current economic paradigm and the loss of jobs to automation, it's the acceleration towards superhuman intelligence. I can't really say that I am looking forward to anything epically terrible happening, but prolonged death in a comfortable living room - entertainment cube is somehow more disappointing right now.
In any case, there is a stronger undercurrent of anxiety in everyone and everything, or so it seems to me. Maybe it is just me though. I am quite anxious by nature, and anxiety levels are nearing the point that my mind is over-saturated.
A less stressful environment would decrease anxiety but there is no such place here, right now (except for within yourself). Cyberspace is not the place - social media time begets an urgent anxiety that is so far removed from the Internet I remember.
I always want to say something when I log on, but the anxiety of social media is, for me, even more pronounced after long periods of disconnection, and I flee before I can commit to writing anything. It's very hard to manage. Ignoring social media platforms is not very smart, so I maintain a distant presence.
Being anxious so often is not logical, but then, the advent and continuity of "life" is just as absurd, and yet it persists despite not making any sense. It would seem to me that feeling anxious cannot be stopped. Battling against it is futile in the long run. A while ago I had some experiences where I successfully relinquished ownership of anxiety. Insomnia, for example, became much less all-consuming/terrifying once attention was genuinely diverted away from the struggle to fall asleep. I think I have probably written about this before, and it was probably my last successful attempt at overcoming illogical anxiety.
Anxiety is "overrepresented" because of increased imagination + hyper- awareness of time/cessation (death), short attention span, and regular application of critical thinking. Endless analysis is generated mentally, the body becomes stiff, anger seems to forever be peaking in intensity. Hard to calm down, but even harder to break out of the post-anxiety procrastination state/fog of indifference. Disowning anxiety is more difficult when it comes to more abstract issues, like being in debt (for example), but it is easier to process the anxiety that comes with debt, than it is let's say, the anxiety that erupts with a surprise accident (like a sudden flat tire).