Madness


The pharasaic artform, the resonator, is the experiential equivalent of the Newtonian three-ball problem.  There are three media elements.  Any two together will lend itself to the creation of a simple narrative.  But three at once, with no actual connection between them, becomes entirely unpredictable.  As you try to see the whole thing, to frame it in your view finder, and exert maximal grip, it defies a predictive analysis.  Micro-fluctuations become amplified, symmetry is broken by a random event one level down.  This lightweight structure, where meaning arises without effort, this is you-here-now-awareness-attention.  It is a tool, designed like a mantra.  And it must be allowed to run for at least 30 seconds.  Otherwise, that ain’t part of the game.

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Which body is sick in infection? Somatic illness has a collective side.  Mental illness has a somatic side.  Nothing new here, folks.  Move along now.

…might be taken as an index of the health of the Filter Functions of the ACC.  If the ‘I’ mediates between competing social influences, and biological needs, then a healthy self might be signalled by an ease in the use of the term ‘I’.  Switching allegiance between teams and the personal.  That seems plausible.  And then you realize that Johnny switched to the third person.  And that’s a common manifestation.  Again, we can reason our way into these psychotic patterns.

The apocalypse again

Farming humans.  You can. We are a natural process, like a bean plant. You can count on us developing the best possible causal account of the R-world. The internet is a human farm. The infrastructure is ‘for free’. People do what they do best: they try to make sense of things. Are the ideas our farmers?

Of course I’m not frightened of death. I see through time. I realize that I, or my P-world, is/am necessarily finite. My job, always, is to try and make this finite grape thing the best thing it can be. My only point of reference therein is right here. Where I am. My coordinates. From there, you have to figure out what is human and what not.  I’m scared. Its dangerous at the margins.

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