I suspect that I won’t have any trouble dying

I hate those guys who always look uptight, or always like they’re concentrating real hard. I object to any piece of such bullshit I find within myself. I don’t think that any of the people that history finds great or brilliant were nerds. Nerd has nothing to do with how much you know, how smart you are. On the same tack, I hate how anyone associated with computer technology is described as a geek, with not a reverence for but another peculiar lifting up of the geek. My vision for the leaders in any field or the members of a leading field is far from geek. The particular tool has nothing to do with the nature of the game.

Looking at myself in the mirror after Ping tonight, I am happy with the body I have been given, and excited at the [mental] suggestion of improving it. And then I stepped back from the mirror, startled by the presence of an unanswerable question : what came before this? Why do I exist? That’s why I don’t look in the mirror too often—almost everyone agrees that it freaks you out. Now, during this writing, I am comfortable, with previous thoughts that eternity is found most nearly by most nearly removing time from the picture…the only thing you can be is the present self in the present moment. Or, rather, you are the present self in the present moment, and that is all, there is no other possibility in this particular moment. It is what it is. And I suspect that I won’t have any trouble dying, if I think like this. Still, glancing around myself once again, it seems hard to believe that consciousness could end. Profoundly paradoxical, confusing, unexplainable. But there’s nothing I can do about it tonight, so I’m going to get some sleep so I can be alive tomorrow.

—the end of the day—

I suspect that I won’t have any trouble dying

Everything we say is said with double meaning

Let this be explicitly said : I feel better saying that my intentions are mostly for some particular end than saying just that they are for that end. For I realize that my intentions are rarely onefold, but rather I am usually aware of several ends I am working toward, or several meanings I intend to convey. As Julian and I have discussed, almost everything we say is said with double meaning, chosen from a set of pre-interpreted alternatives as the favored vehicle of meaning. I mean it as a joke, but I am also aware of its kernel of truth, and I hope that the receiver of the message will interpret the text in several ways. And in life’s actions not so easily spelled out with written language, the same holds true. Upon taking an action, I am usually aware of several of its possible consequences, and aware that what I intend by my action may not come about by it, and that other things may come about by it that I did not intend. Tough decisions are sometimes tough because I am aware that all of my choices entail mixed consequences, mixed in the sense that they contain both outcomes that I desire, and outcomes that I do not. Everything is part good and part bad.

Everything we say is said with double meaning

I hate some of the people in my classes

I recognize that I hate some of the people in my classes. The ones whose discussion of a book consists primarily of the statement, “Yeah, I read that,” with the emphasis on read, the fact that it is over and done with, and that they’re beyond it. Yep; read, comprehended, chewed and shat without digesting…fuck ‘em, I hate that shit. You know what else I hate? The “I am here to serve you” shit. The “I simplistically value you only for the degree to which you serve my immediate function”.

I hate some of the people in my classes

I love to reflect at the end of the day

I am sleeping in a bed that a girl named Brandi was just lying in; it’s my bed. Big John is sad tonight because he’s not getting any female affection. He asked me tonight if I thought it was because of his weight. “It’s the weight, isn’t it,” he said. I countered by looking down at my skinny self and saying, “John, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not getting any girls either.” But it probably is the weight.

Holly and I went to the hockey game tonight, and afterwards, we drank hot chocolate and played Parcheesi in her room. We talked some. It was very nice. And unlike my date with Erica the other night, I don’t think that Holly is anxious to be involved with me sexually, which is a wonderful situation. Some of life is sex, but most of it is not, and I joy in finding those people to whom I may be brother.

I talked with Mike just now, telling him I went to see the game, and that I felt unsatisfied at the overtime tie. He reflected that they just weren’t getting the puck in the basket like they used to…and that he didn’t know what to do about it. He thanked me for coming to the game.

And today I had thoughts of being supple. The realization that it’s good to be easily moldable by yourself, for your mind and body to be flexible and capable of learning. Actively and passively free, willing and able to do what it takes to arrive at the destination of choice.

I realize how I love community, and how I love to reflect at the end of the day. And I regard my method of building relationships as superior to that of my friends. They invest in the short term, the one night stand : they want to get their dick sucked. I generally refuse offers of immediate lust, taking instead patterns of action that demonstrate to people that my interest in them transcends the function they serve in my life. That is a different kind of logic than most people follow. It breaks the rules, extends local definitions of possibility. It honors them, rather than honoring me, and that’s unusual. A relationship that is constructed without taking heed to the sways of the inconsequential will not be broken by inconsequential sways.

And it struck me during the hockey game as simple, that whatever you regularly spend a lot of time doing, you will be good at. First I thought…if I ice skated every day for a month, I’d be a pretty good ice skater. Then I added writing and computer programming and now I add math, social activity, and creativity in general. If you have the needed resources, and you apply the appropriate energy to an activity for enough time, you will be good at what you do, and you will get things done.

“the backlightining of some former girl”…interesting phrase. I am sitting in the dining hall on Super Bowl Sunday and almost every conversation I have heard in the last 30 minutes was about drinking…I was totally trashed, I cannot remember what happened, the next thing I remember we were fucking…that is the theme of this age, apparently. I have been among this for some time, and still I find it foreign. It is uncomfortable for me to be around these people…and I question now whether there has ever been a group of people I feel comfortable around. Occasionally youth groups, occasionally my Colonel White friends…but no, not regularly, not consistently have I found community with groups of other people. More often have I sampled oneness with other individuals (and for longer periods of time than I have with groups) but even here, I identify with Einstein’s comment that one becomes gradually aware of one’s inability to understand and be understood by others.

I see a man with a certain appearance, in this case the distinctive alternate, chain smoker, automotive workclothes, shaggy multi-length hair, dilated red eyes…and he reminds me of the musician who adopts a certain look to accent his talent; and I wonder what talent will contrast my look, my low-key, plain, quiet, jean-wearing self.

I am thinking that in addition to searching information, predicting the future would be a good thing to learn. To be able to know with more accuracy than others what will happen next would be profitable. Imagine betting situations. Sports, the stock market, wars, hostage situations. It would be on par with the materials research lab at Wright-Pat, that aims to simulate the behavior of molecular structures inside computers so that it doesn’t have to be simulated in real life, which simulation is costly and time-consuming. Imagine being able to simulate with a fair degree of accuracy the behavior of human beings…to have a deep understanding of human behavior. From which two thoughts arise : If (1) macrobehaviors like I would want to predict are composed of microbehaviors like those of molecules, then (2) the best I could do would be to make general approximations as to the microbehaviors that produce my macrobehaviors. Another though I have had before is this : if the world is [at least] a four-dimensional space, could I not come up with a method of analysis that would give me some information about other 3-d parts of this 4-d space in which I exist? Let’s try an analogy. If my data were several 2-d cross-sections of a chair, would it be possible to gain some information about the 3-d nature of the chair? I suppose if I had stored examples of chairs I had experienced in one of their 3-dimensional entireties, I could match up these representations and extrapolate that the rest of the chair I was trying to predict would be similar to the chair whose outcome I had already seen. Would this work in 3- and 4-dimensions? That would be like if my data set were several 3-dimensional frames, and I could find in my memory a more complete series of 3-d frames that were similar to the set I was trying to examine. Then I could predict that the future of the set in question would be similar to the past future of my example in memory. Isn’t this what people do all the time? Isn’t that how I make the prediction that since when I pulled the trigger then, a bullet came out, when I pull the trigger now, a bullet will come out? It seems similar. So where a computer might aid is in making connections and recognitions that a person might not. Where the data to be compared are too complex, or of a nature not normally handled well by people, a computer might be employed to recognize similarities that might lead to more accurate predictions.

Frustrating to me still is the nature of prediction and remembrance. The nature of our memory seems to give a sense of heading to the dimension of time…it seems to be moving in a direction, or there seems to be a difference in moving along the dimension of time that is related to the direction in which the movement is taking place. Why is that? Something in me rejects that there is a big difference between remembering and predicting. It seems to me that both are easy within close time-proximity of the moment of prediction/remembrance…easy to remember things that just happened and easy to predict things that will happen very soon…with exceptions on both sides. Sometimes you have a brain fart and can’t remember a part of what just happened, sometimes something unexpected happens, and your predictions of the near future are very wrong. Maybe I am trying to find too much similarity between the two; there are major differences that seem hard to deny. For instance, nearly unchanging records can be kept of the past, in the form of videotape, CD digital data, ink-and-paper writing, where similar records/predictions of time’s other direction do not seem possible. Why is that? Do I give too much credit to the permanence of historical records? Do I too quickly discount the possibility of future predictions that exist with the same permanence and accuracy of historical record? What is the nature of this difference by which, from a particular point in time, I interpret one direction as known, and the other as unknown?

I love to reflect at the end of the day

It’s springlike today

Alright, it’s springlike today, and I associate strongly these days with those of Colonel White. Everything smells of sex and newness. And I am aware that I want freedom, that I want to wander unimpeded through fields and gardens, and that I want the weather to be warm while I do it.

I associate so strongly to those times. And why? Cutting class, writing and doing plays, listening to Tori Amos. Waxing excellent in photography through talent and extra work; cutting class, the art that it was. And while my move to CJ caused me to look at more the negative things about Colonel White, those times had many wonderful occurrences…borrowing money (in quarters) from twenty individuals so that Julian and I could buy a pizza. Cutting class, playing downtown, going to the library.

I image school and teacher as parent. Or did then. Teacher is less of a parent in college but parent nonetheless. And perhaps the freedom I felt this morning was partially because I was walking in the outdoors, free from teachers, not too much thinking about class or school. And it strikes me as important, then, having dissolved my image of God as parent, and currently having my image of Van and Sharon Temple as childhood parent dissolved, that I also dissolve my image of school as authoritative parent. And not only dissolve my image, but transform my relationship. I am endeavoring to become an adult in many ways, to become as purely as possible independent, realizing

It’s springlike today

I hate literary critics

and that stupid fucker who thinks my poem is too linear. Fuck you. People are so high on themselves. Fuck them. What the fuck do I want to hear if he likes fucking nonlinear poetry. It’s this whole modern way of thinking : I am the theorist and you all will have to conform to my preferences if you want to be praised by me. Well, fuck you, and fuck you, too, and fuck you all. (I like that word today.) Plus my friend died and I don’t have anybody to talk about it with. Fuck that. I’ve been not thinking about it, but I just got Kate’s email so I’m thinking about it. I was happy a few minutes ago but now I hate everything and I’m mad at everything. Fuck everything. And know that the literal reading of this text is how I feel…though I know it can sound funny from outside my moment, the moment is not funny in itself.

I hate literary critics

Being familiar with a conversation

I just got back from seeing Larry Flynt. I enjoyed watching it and thinking along the ideas it suggested to me. I like the end : “Larry Flynt still lives in California. He owns 29 magazines.” Which reminds me of something I was thinking earlier today. I would like to be the man who controls everything, who has so much power…I would like to expand the locus of my control to include an incredible area. I want to be able to influence large results. To take a city and decide that I think it should prosper…and then have the resources, the friends, and the ingenuity to make that happen. I want to play the world like a board game. And to keep balanced perspective; to know, even with large amounts of money and influence, that I am [just] a tiny ball of flesh in an infinite universe. For the choice to be mine. For the decision, and the power of the momentary whim, to belong to me. And I want to be excellent equally in the little things, which are really what the big things are composed of. I want to be a wonderful friend, and a fair pool player, and a smooth social operator. I want to create, and be creative. I want to put things together in a fabric where the tendency seems to be that things are falling apart. Since I have rarely found meaning outside myself, absolute meaning, I shall embark to create that which intrinsically I do not believe in, to prove myself wrong, to find my own doubts to be false. I have rejected everyone else’s ideas of meaning as foolish delusions; now I endeavor to construct meaningful illusions of my own. As usual, I am exactly half joking and half serious when I say this.

Just as building Lego structures is aided by having fun imagining playing with Lego’s in your mind, every real implementation is more easily possible when planted in the soil of imagination’s ultimate free reign of exploration. I often imagine participating in conversations before they take place, toying with different eventualities before they actually come upon me, so that once I am put in the actual situation, my response can be automatic. I know what I have to do. So I will implement a similar policy with a broader area of my life. I will play a huge imaginative game with myself, considering first broad eventualities, general alternatives; and so, I will gain a familiarity with the conversation of my life. I always hold that mastery of an area is marked not by knowing all the answers to the questions the area presents, but by gaining familiarity with the conversation that takes place around that area (which is a larger and more realistic task). Being familiar with a conversation means knowing many answers to a single question, and being able to understand the plusses and minuses of each. To do this is simultaneously harder and more realistic than finding single answers to a question. Finding single answers is a small and cheap task; it stops relatively soon after it has begun, and it chooses to remain blind to most of the multitude of truth that lays in waiting. Becoming familiar with the conversation is a never-ending process, and, in its effort to range across many different subjective takes on life, is the only process [of the two mentioned] that has a tendency to approach objectivity, understanding not limited by a single point of view, but understanding as the result of the juxtaposition of many different single points of view.

Being familiar with a conversation