Angels vs. Robots.
Suzuki says “with the awakening of consciousness, the will is split into two… actor and observer. Conflict is inevitable, for the actor (minus self) wants to be free from the limitations of the observer-self. Therefore, in enlightenment, the disciple discovers that there is no observer-self, ‘no soul entity as an unknown or knowable quantity.’ Nothing remains but the goal-and-the-act that accomplishes it.”
“The present is the moving infinity, the legitimate sphere of the relative. Relativity seeks adjustment: adjustment is art. The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.”
I imagine my body engulfed in your smoke. On the streets. At night. The city and there is no traffic. I imagine myself engulfed in your smoke. Up my sleeves. My neck. There is nothing but warmth in the cold air.
I remember you being right there. Cigarette. Orange ash. And now that you’re gone, and I don’t smoke, there only seems to
“In leaving something unsaid the beholder is given a chance to complete the idea and thus a great masterpiece irresistibly rivets your attention until you seem to become actually a part of it. A vacuum is there for you to enter and fill up to the full measure of your aesthetic emotion.”
Two moments that always grasp me… the first occurred with our feet bare in the cold water, resonating against us, onto and off the beach. We looked at the sky. We looked at the dark distance where sea met land met sky, all shadow before the light of the city and the light of the stars.
“This Laotse illustrates by his favorite metaphor of the Vacuum. He claimed that only in the vacuum lay the truly essential. The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in vacant space enclosed by the roof and walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, no in the form of the pitcher of the material of which it was made. Vacuum is all potent because it is all containing. In vacuum alone motion becomes possible.”
Today I watched the Sufi on television twirl in circles. Then I watched them sing. Then I watched... and I thought to myself about the Indian influences on the Sufi, and the monism… the statements that there is no distinction between you and God. That they moved… things move, people move, movement is everywhere. When you go into a trance, when you lose yourself. And I remember I was an atheist. And what did that mean? What does that mean? When the Zen monk or nun meditates… they seek stillness. It is the difference between everything and nothing. The absolute stillness of the nun, the constant movement of the Indian dancer. It is the different between God and Nothing.
“The term ‘robotism’ therefore, as we use it, doest not mean…mechanically rigid behavior… Rather robotism is in this context means the suppression of the conscious “observer-self” or conscience, so as to remove all fear and circumspection, all encumbrances to ideal performance. Such a [hu]man, as Suzuki says, “becomes as the dead, who have passed beyond the necessity of taking thought about the proper course of action. The dead are no longer returning on; they are free. Therefore to say ‘I will live as one already dead’ means a supreme release from conflict.”
There are two concepts I created that I’d like to revisit for a moment. Traffic and Flow. No one likes traffic. It is congested, full of metal of exhaust, noise, cacophony even if it is sometimes beautiful cacophony, forms folding over forms, it is the constant mode of tension. And then there is the free flow of energy. From one wire to the next, from one form to the next until there are no longer forms or objects or subjects and therefore no distance. In the electronic age we see this happen often, data moving at the speed of light, instantaneous without conflict. It is the quieting pulse, the silent air. The wanting to do and doing are one. There are no others between you and when there are no others there are no selves. I don’t mean to say that other people compose traffic. Traffic is found in the quietest of rooms, in the vacuum of space in an astronaut’s suit. Identity, the very nature of it, is traffic.
When objects collide… is this traffic or flow?
“It points up vividly the difference between Western and Eastern psychology that when we speak of a conscienceless American we mean a [hu]man who no longer feels the sense of sin which should accompany wrongdoing, but that when a Japanese uses an equivalent phrase he means a [hu]man who is no longer tense and hindered. The American means a bad [hu]man; the Japanese means a good [hu]man, a [hu]trained man, a [hu]man able to use his[/her] abilities to the utmost. He means a [hu]man who can perform the most difficult and devoted deeds of unselfishness. The great American sanction for good behavior is guilt; a [hu]man who because of a calloused conscience can no longer feel this has become antisocial. The Japanese diagram the problem differently.”
The second moment I think of occurs when we held hands. It was the first time you touched someone in years, someone you weren’t close with at least and even with them it was awkward. Instead of stopping then and there… to be grateful that instant, I could only think of seeing you again, of the day when I could hold your hand again. I wanted to move, I am a mover. I’ve moved all my life. It’s what I do. In class, I used to rock back and forth. The others would laugh at me, but I didn’t care. I learned to stop. I used to shake my legs constantly. I learned to stop. I am not one to feel homesick. I adjust to my surroundings in a few days if even that. I move. I am kinetic. Understand? I’m sorry. Understand?
“According to their philosophy, [a hu]man in his[/her] inmost soul is good. If his[/her] impulse can be directly embodied in his[/her] deed, he[/she] acts virtuously and easily. Therefore he[/she] undergoes, in “expertness,” training to eliminate the self-censorship of shame (haji). Only ten is his [/her] “sixth sense” free of hindrance. It is his [/her] supreme release from self-consciousness and conflict.”
The truth is I was full of fear and circumspection and
-- (05:00:00 am): i'm sorry. don't make it into a thing.
HexZeroBleu (05:00:42 am): a thing? at this point i'm lost
-- (05:00:55 am): the waiting.
-- (05:00:59 am): that you are waiting.
-- (05:01:02 am): just let it actualise.
Did not take the time to realize things. Instead I tried to understand them in such away that displaced me, in such a way that I could not see the ground, only the figures rising from it.
--- (09:55:04 pm): okay, well i have experienced both a lot of boys like you and a lot of pseudo-philosophical justifications for behaviours.
--- (09:55:18 pm): and as of now i do not trust you.
HexZeroBleu (09:56:41 pm): you can not trust me if you want. i can't do anything about that. i don't even know how i can gain your trust.
--- (09:56:55 pm): it's not something that you can just do.
--- (09:57:07 pm): or gain.
--- (09:57:24 pm): there's not a goddamn switch on a person that you find and flick and all's intimate.
--- (09:57:29 pm): there's not trust g-spot.
“Occidentals cannot easily credit the ability of the Japanese to swing from one behaviour to another without psychic cost. Such extreme possibilities are not included in our experience. Yet in Japanese life the contradictions, as they seem to us, are deeply based in their view of life as our uniformities are in ours. It is especially important for Occidentals to recognize that the “circles” into which the Japanese divide life do not include any “circle of evil.” This is not to say that the Japanese do not recognize bad behaviour, but they do not see human life as a stage on which forces of good contend with forces of evil. They see existence as a drama which calls for careful balancing of the claims of one “circle” against another and f one course of procedure against another, each circle and each course being in itself good.”
When… you think… usually traffic occurs. I look around me and I don’t see actual, I don’t feel actual things. It may seem as such. According to what I see and hear, it’s the same as any other time… but this is not the case as I feel it. When you stand outside with your hands outstretched in the air… and open your eyes… something else just may open. And you feel immediate. Even you walked into a tree branch (like I have) or have been hit in the face (like I have) or have found yourself in the presence of absolute and immediate horror or awe (like I have) or in the presence of someone who when there changes how everything is, how everything is (like I have) you may know this feeling. I don’t doubt everyone has. It is not the drunken stupor of love or the constant reflective doubt or subtle fears… it is
“Instead of an abstract or objective uniform (visual) code or conduct applicable to all situations (i.e., as figure minus a ground) there is rather a (multi-sensory) equilibrium or balance of properties to be adjusted constantly. The ground must remain tuned. Robotism is instant readjustment.”
What affects me most is not what truth is. Truth is disinterested in the cut on your hand when washing dishing, doesn’t feel warm against your body when you are cold. Truth is abstract, even in your situated knowledge. So do I hope to be a rational being? No. Do I hope to make any real sense of this? No. Not to I don’t move myself in these directions but they are not the primary force in my being alive. You see these words? These words are not my words, only the attempt to pronounce an abstract concept. They don’t touch me back. I can not touch the word truth. I was told years ago to go in fear of abstractions. Not they are not useful, not that I should kill everyone one, but to go in fear of them. Will this lead to conflict? Yes. At first. Abstractions are traffic. Will concepts like goodness be abandoned? Yes, and will be replaced by the purity of your actions.
Daiquiri, you make no sense and bore me.
That is life, abstract voice.
If you were worth pitying I would do so.
I cannot live for you. I cannot live for me. You can’t live for anything.
Don’t come to me when you find hell.
I always thought hell to be a place of immense liveliness.
“Angelism on the other hand ensures a rigidity of point of view which is largely a consequence of linear and visual logic. It is best characterized as promoting confrontation and fragmentation, some of the chief elements in the illusion of objectivity. One emphasizes the eye over the ear. The function of robotism is the reverse. As Lowell Thomas used to say, “On the air, you’re everywhere…” The robotic [hu]man is capable if instant adjustment to any social situation without guilt; since he[/she] keeps his[/her] ear tuned to a collective, a moral identity which we call the audience. Like the attentive crowd, an audience is tuned to ground.”
Hello.
Goodbye.
And though many ignore and forget McLuhan, I keep him close to me these nights. I walk back and forth trying to figure things out.
If I can’t understand things… at least I can feel things… which to me seems more important than meaning. It is before meaning even happens. I don’t want to know what it means to love you. I want to know how it feels like.
Badavdbdabadbadbadbbabab abbddadababadabdababaabdadbdadbdadbddbdabdbwpoidjvlweioijef3029ijf jowaj0wvj j0we9fjm 0f9-09wavm09f0b9z0wg m094u-a0b9djf0aw9jt049t-bn49uz-09bj49j-0a9dbmit4e0-9bm49kpnokg’poab09erbam09i,bk90it0b9yuq30=49i=09bim49u2=049bum09i=09bi430q9u6b=09itmb049u=3069bum9r=09u56,0294u6=b09rbl946i=203496bu8
Understand?
Red. Burn. Smoke. Ash.
Understand?
I miss you.
Understand?
“The present is the moving infinity, the legitimate sphere of the relative. Relativity seeks adjustment: adjustment is art. The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.”
I imagine my body engulfed in your smoke. On the streets. At night. The city and there is no traffic. I imagine myself engulfed in your smoke. Up my sleeves. My neck. There is nothing but warmth in the cold air.
I remember you being right there. Cigarette. Orange ash. And now that you’re gone, and I don’t smoke, there only seems to
“In leaving something unsaid the beholder is given a chance to complete the idea and thus a great masterpiece irresistibly rivets your attention until you seem to become actually a part of it. A vacuum is there for you to enter and fill up to the full measure of your aesthetic emotion.”
Two moments that always grasp me… the first occurred with our feet bare in the cold water, resonating against us, onto and off the beach. We looked at the sky. We looked at the dark distance where sea met land met sky, all shadow before the light of the city and the light of the stars.
“This Laotse illustrates by his favorite metaphor of the Vacuum. He claimed that only in the vacuum lay the truly essential. The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in vacant space enclosed by the roof and walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, no in the form of the pitcher of the material of which it was made. Vacuum is all potent because it is all containing. In vacuum alone motion becomes possible.”
Today I watched the Sufi on television twirl in circles. Then I watched them sing. Then I watched... and I thought to myself about the Indian influences on the Sufi, and the monism… the statements that there is no distinction between you and God. That they moved… things move, people move, movement is everywhere. When you go into a trance, when you lose yourself. And I remember I was an atheist. And what did that mean? What does that mean? When the Zen monk or nun meditates… they seek stillness. It is the difference between everything and nothing. The absolute stillness of the nun, the constant movement of the Indian dancer. It is the different between God and Nothing.
“The term ‘robotism’ therefore, as we use it, doest not mean…mechanically rigid behavior… Rather robotism is in this context means the suppression of the conscious “observer-self” or conscience, so as to remove all fear and circumspection, all encumbrances to ideal performance. Such a [hu]man, as Suzuki says, “becomes as the dead, who have passed beyond the necessity of taking thought about the proper course of action. The dead are no longer returning on; they are free. Therefore to say ‘I will live as one already dead’ means a supreme release from conflict.”
There are two concepts I created that I’d like to revisit for a moment. Traffic and Flow. No one likes traffic. It is congested, full of metal of exhaust, noise, cacophony even if it is sometimes beautiful cacophony, forms folding over forms, it is the constant mode of tension. And then there is the free flow of energy. From one wire to the next, from one form to the next until there are no longer forms or objects or subjects and therefore no distance. In the electronic age we see this happen often, data moving at the speed of light, instantaneous without conflict. It is the quieting pulse, the silent air. The wanting to do and doing are one. There are no others between you and when there are no others there are no selves. I don’t mean to say that other people compose traffic. Traffic is found in the quietest of rooms, in the vacuum of space in an astronaut’s suit. Identity, the very nature of it, is traffic.
When objects collide… is this traffic or flow?
“It points up vividly the difference between Western and Eastern psychology that when we speak of a conscienceless American we mean a [hu]man who no longer feels the sense of sin which should accompany wrongdoing, but that when a Japanese uses an equivalent phrase he means a [hu]man who is no longer tense and hindered. The American means a bad [hu]man; the Japanese means a good [hu]man, a [hu]trained man, a [hu]man able to use his[/her] abilities to the utmost. He means a [hu]man who can perform the most difficult and devoted deeds of unselfishness. The great American sanction for good behavior is guilt; a [hu]man who because of a calloused conscience can no longer feel this has become antisocial. The Japanese diagram the problem differently.”
The second moment I think of occurs when we held hands. It was the first time you touched someone in years, someone you weren’t close with at least and even with them it was awkward. Instead of stopping then and there… to be grateful that instant, I could only think of seeing you again, of the day when I could hold your hand again. I wanted to move, I am a mover. I’ve moved all my life. It’s what I do. In class, I used to rock back and forth. The others would laugh at me, but I didn’t care. I learned to stop. I used to shake my legs constantly. I learned to stop. I am not one to feel homesick. I adjust to my surroundings in a few days if even that. I move. I am kinetic. Understand? I’m sorry. Understand?
“According to their philosophy, [a hu]man in his[/her] inmost soul is good. If his[/her] impulse can be directly embodied in his[/her] deed, he[/she] acts virtuously and easily. Therefore he[/she] undergoes, in “expertness,” training to eliminate the self-censorship of shame (haji). Only ten is his [/her] “sixth sense” free of hindrance. It is his [/her] supreme release from self-consciousness and conflict.”
The truth is I was full of fear and circumspection and
-- (05:00:00 am): i'm sorry. don't make it into a thing.
HexZeroBleu (05:00:42 am): a thing? at this point i'm lost
-- (05:00:55 am): the waiting.
-- (05:00:59 am): that you are waiting.
-- (05:01:02 am): just let it actualise.
Did not take the time to realize things. Instead I tried to understand them in such away that displaced me, in such a way that I could not see the ground, only the figures rising from it.
--- (09:55:04 pm): okay, well i have experienced both a lot of boys like you and a lot of pseudo-philosophical justifications for behaviours.
--- (09:55:18 pm): and as of now i do not trust you.
HexZeroBleu (09:56:41 pm): you can not trust me if you want. i can't do anything about that. i don't even know how i can gain your trust.
--- (09:56:55 pm): it's not something that you can just do.
--- (09:57:07 pm): or gain.
--- (09:57:24 pm): there's not a goddamn switch on a person that you find and flick and all's intimate.
--- (09:57:29 pm): there's not trust g-spot.
“Occidentals cannot easily credit the ability of the Japanese to swing from one behaviour to another without psychic cost. Such extreme possibilities are not included in our experience. Yet in Japanese life the contradictions, as they seem to us, are deeply based in their view of life as our uniformities are in ours. It is especially important for Occidentals to recognize that the “circles” into which the Japanese divide life do not include any “circle of evil.” This is not to say that the Japanese do not recognize bad behaviour, but they do not see human life as a stage on which forces of good contend with forces of evil. They see existence as a drama which calls for careful balancing of the claims of one “circle” against another and f one course of procedure against another, each circle and each course being in itself good.”
When… you think… usually traffic occurs. I look around me and I don’t see actual, I don’t feel actual things. It may seem as such. According to what I see and hear, it’s the same as any other time… but this is not the case as I feel it. When you stand outside with your hands outstretched in the air… and open your eyes… something else just may open. And you feel immediate. Even you walked into a tree branch (like I have) or have been hit in the face (like I have) or have found yourself in the presence of absolute and immediate horror or awe (like I have) or in the presence of someone who when there changes how everything is, how everything is (like I have) you may know this feeling. I don’t doubt everyone has. It is not the drunken stupor of love or the constant reflective doubt or subtle fears… it is
“Instead of an abstract or objective uniform (visual) code or conduct applicable to all situations (i.e., as figure minus a ground) there is rather a (multi-sensory) equilibrium or balance of properties to be adjusted constantly. The ground must remain tuned. Robotism is instant readjustment.”
What affects me most is not what truth is. Truth is disinterested in the cut on your hand when washing dishing, doesn’t feel warm against your body when you are cold. Truth is abstract, even in your situated knowledge. So do I hope to be a rational being? No. Do I hope to make any real sense of this? No. Not to I don’t move myself in these directions but they are not the primary force in my being alive. You see these words? These words are not my words, only the attempt to pronounce an abstract concept. They don’t touch me back. I can not touch the word truth. I was told years ago to go in fear of abstractions. Not they are not useful, not that I should kill everyone one, but to go in fear of them. Will this lead to conflict? Yes. At first. Abstractions are traffic. Will concepts like goodness be abandoned? Yes, and will be replaced by the purity of your actions.
Daiquiri, you make no sense and bore me.
That is life, abstract voice.
If you were worth pitying I would do so.
I cannot live for you. I cannot live for me. You can’t live for anything.
Don’t come to me when you find hell.
I always thought hell to be a place of immense liveliness.
“Angelism on the other hand ensures a rigidity of point of view which is largely a consequence of linear and visual logic. It is best characterized as promoting confrontation and fragmentation, some of the chief elements in the illusion of objectivity. One emphasizes the eye over the ear. The function of robotism is the reverse. As Lowell Thomas used to say, “On the air, you’re everywhere…” The robotic [hu]man is capable if instant adjustment to any social situation without guilt; since he[/she] keeps his[/her] ear tuned to a collective, a moral identity which we call the audience. Like the attentive crowd, an audience is tuned to ground.”
Hello.
Goodbye.
And though many ignore and forget McLuhan, I keep him close to me these nights. I walk back and forth trying to figure things out.
If I can’t understand things… at least I can feel things… which to me seems more important than meaning. It is before meaning even happens. I don’t want to know what it means to love you. I want to know how it feels like.
Badavdbdabadbadbadbbabab abbddadababadabdababaabdadbdadbdadbddbdabdbwpoidjvlweioijef3029ijf jowaj0wvj j0we9fjm 0f9-09wavm09f0b9z0wg m094u-a0b9djf0aw9jt049t-bn49uz-09bj49j-0a9dbmit4e0-9bm49kpnokg’poab09erbam09i,bk90it0b9yuq30=49i=09bim49u2=049bum09i=09bi430q9u6b=09itmb049u=3069bum9r=09u56,0294u6=b09rbl946i=203496bu8
Understand?
Red. Burn. Smoke. Ash.
Understand?
I miss you.
Understand?