Nov 26, 2018
i'm pretty sure most of this is a combination of failure to exercise along with being in austin and not really having a set routine. i'm here for one more week but i'm still struggling to confront the things that need doing.
i really hope this is just a failure to exercise and not some deeper bad attitude that seems to seep into and ruin everything. ruins everything!
coded. i finished reading vigor's article on the gerry principle yesterday and i want to write a rebuttal so badly, but also i know that it's not wrong. it's not wrong!! just that there's other ways of seeing things.
really it's pretty ingenious and i appreciate the ingeniousness of it. applaud it, even.
i'm so sick of twitter. i've been doing nothing but checking checking checking the website the past few days it feels awful. absolutely awful. it's part of the malaise, this classy unclassy always on the Internet feeling. writing isn't that, writing is movement, it's coming out of things but damn.
i went and did watercolor yesterday with my sister and i'm proud of them but i also sort of just wanted them to put up on my internet corkboard. i love aesthetic things. i want more aesthetic things.
i really want to finish up the upstairs space. it needs a decent amount of work, but it's incredibly doable. i should do it.
finishing things is incredibly hard. a coworker once told me that the thing that set him apart from other people, his real edge if you will, was that he finished things.
he *finished* things. i don't have that edge and i feel it pretty roughly recently.
Nov 11, 2018
I started a new blog for all things post rational. I’m really worried that my writing style is going to choke it off from mass acceptance but I also think my style is the absolute best thing about it. There’s a way to mitigate the real problem, which is a certain hesitation to dig into explaining. I can usually break through this reluctance when I’m high. Not now though, that’s not an option. It’s ok but I can’t help but wonder if it’s an illusion anyway.
Rastros means traces or signs left behind.
I’m worried that I’m conflating the term context. I need to more rigorously define it, I think. Actually that feels like a great next piece. I’m really struggling with how to open up the discussion into quantum territory — exploring context seems like a good next bridge piece, as I think it will be a good start into the core of what quantum rhetoric is.
This is fun, this journey into the unknown path of slow exploration explanation.
I’m in Australia now, having just finished up the Lightning Summit in Adelaide. The apartment I’m staying in is across from the fair grounds. Today, Sunday, there’s an outdoor concert in the park and I’m having trouble placing the music. It’s old, maybe mid-aughts in the US. It’s hard to figure where this set of people would be in American culture. Forget trying to place them in terms of Australian culture.
We spent a few hours walking on the beach yesterday. I saw a lot of different types of people, small glimpses of overlapping micro cultures and I’m again struggling to feel like I have a good grasp of what the competing factions are. For me, this is the hardest part of traveling to native English destinations, the feeling at home and fluent while also being endlessly barraged by a completely different set of norms. Everything feels just slightly off. It’s a bit nauseating, in the seasickness sense. I like knowing to expect it, as it makes it much easier to enjoy the sensation of.
Nov 2, 2018
You know how sometimes Things keep coming across your view of the world? We call them coincidences but they always feel like an inevitable amount of magic.
Like that odd fascination with seeing the clock, once a day, lined up as 12:34 and then you email me and the timestamp receipt is that, just
Or how I get into a weird, random obsessive hole about a particular elliptic curve thing, like really go superficially obsessive, only to see it pop up again and again later when following an intuition about what's going to be on the table at the lightning summit next week. Bam. Recognition, in the most small of random ways.
Or how all those, my, personality tests say "sexual". Scorpio the house of fantasy and sexual energy, enneagram two with a three wing, sexual variant.
What does it mean?
It's a struggle to see yourself.
The thing I like most about personality tests isn't so much what it says about me, rather, I love the foiling that it provides. The ability to see other people, with my own possible blindspots pointed out, a template to hold up and see the edges through. They're fun in the aggregate, in the lines, in the spaces between you and other people that they create or reveal.
It's not 'other people' in the conjunctive though, other people in the specific, the interactional. Talking to someone and realizing how the lines of difference move through a conversation, through an outlook, a perspective. Where the branches lie, between you and I, and where they're the same and how where you end up at the end of that conversation is a much different place than where you started out and where you would have ended up on your own.
Is that a sexual thing, to be into finding branching lines of difference? Into digging into the ins and the minutiae of existence, at the boundary lines between people?
Something in this interpretation lends itself to communality, to interaction. Can you be sexual in a box, population one? You can logic in a box, you can stoic in a box, you can fantasy in a box, sure, but can you sexual in a box?
Can you? Can you?
And then Reading through 'other people's' blog posts looking for the difference. The spark, the feeling, the what is it that there is here that there is not elsewhere. Because,
there is a thing.
There is a thing here that stands to be delineated and wondering, to myself:
Does 'sexual' define the difference?
Oct 30, 2018
i need to read wittgenstein. i know nothing about wittgenstein, only that i must read him. i must read him, i must. i know that he tweeted. i know that he has only one full book. i know that he is quoted on the wikipedia article for occam's razor.
i have so many books to read. so many blog posts to write. but i need to know this man. i need to know what he thought.
i need to know why i can't stop thinking about him.
Oct 13, 2018
lazer walker and i were at a party and we decided to take a day trip to see the Presidio, which ended up being a ruin on a hill.
we didn't end up making it there, instead we huffy puffied our way up and up. i did the thing i do best, which is figuring out which way to go to keep moving forward. we hunted the top through buildings and schools, and long staircases and steep upward slopes. in a way, it was like finding your way to the Acropolis in Athens.
there were others on the way up, but none were as good at getting up as me.
at one point the trail led through a school that had been shut down for an event and we rang the bell anyway. we wandered around the corner to try to find another in, but eventually the doir opened and we were in a high school gym dance party. everyone was wearing Halloween costumes and damn they could boogie. but so could i! we danced our way out the other end of the school, through hallways of revelry.
we didn't make it to the top before the sunset, which was game over.
Oct 4, 2018
it's a process of universe selection that you can't change. or at least, one that i haven't figure out how to arrest, not yet anyway. even if i could stop it or offer some kind of course correction, i'm not sure that i would want to. what universe you choose to live in is just that: your choice. i can't imagine taking that away from you.
it makes me sad, to know that i'm not cut out for working at big companies. literally cannot do it, am not built for it. it kills me, a piece of me. i hate knowing how much i hate it. i hate knowing that it's not my thing, because i think i've always in some small way wanted it to be a thing i was good at, that i felt comfortable doing. maybe age changes it. i hope age changes it, but also, i think the reality is that i know that i've wasted too much time there already.
Sep 21, 2018
I realized that you don't mind it when I'm myself. Fully and happy and myself. You don't mind when I ask silly questions or make particularly feminine exclamations. I hid them, you know. Not very well mind you because that's not the kind of person that I am, I am.
Or maybe I was right to hide them the whole time until I could get to a place where I feel safe. Maybe this is the place where I can do and be the thing.
Is this the place? Maybe this is the place.
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