Thursday, December 6, 2007

Artsy-fartsy

Gastronomics, a new field of study.

Seriously think about it; arts stimulate the senses with skillful crafting and farts hit two senses. What the artist ate would become a topic of talk and consideration, "is that, sniff sniff, Limburger cheese with a vinaigrette?". This medium also stimulates the ears. Is it a dry puff or a squelch? One large release or a tractor's worth of put-puts? Snobs would have something new to savor in art galleries: community performance pieces. Only those who paid for tickets could enjoy the exhibit and catch the fleeting mingling of artist's wind passing through the halls. Such works would have to consume an Artist's life, days or weeks before their release. Everything the Artist eats would be considered: fiber? -too risky. jalepenos? they'd burn patrons nostrils, adding tactile sensation to the show, good choice. Truly brave Artists would let their audience know what goes on through their insides, revealing some nakedness to spectators (risky in a room of the immature) so their work would not be stifled by pantaloons.
But the sensations these works would give when displayed are just veneer covering the shape of an Artist's greater meaning. Poots are ethereal samples of decay from the human body, records of what we consume. In sampling them we'd come to dwell on mortality, the human condition as exemplified in specific Artists' lives and sensations mysterious. They are not pleasant sensations because death is not a pleasant thing and so should not be portrayed in a medium beautifully. I hope if a museum did open a wing for Artsy-Fartsy work you wouldn't raise a stink.

Aspirations

I want to have works I will peruse and enjoy later in life. It'd be a sweet bonus if other humans enjoyed'em too.
The greatest deeds of mankind so far, that I know of, have been done in videogames. That's not a joke. Videogames are microcosms of existence and take any parts from our reality to make digital similitudes. Architecture, music, storylines, shooting, reading, design, community, comics and more have been done in videogames. What hasn't been included in these worlds continuities can be because the medium allows for any interactions routed through electronics. Pretty inclusive, eh? [I find it difficult to explain my intentions because specific examples would take pages, curt explanation begets inquiry, and the examples are diverse that all-inclusive references must be vague in meaning]
I will occupy myself with realizing some of my imaginings. Whether I'm paid to or not I'll but preferably I'll have sufficient influence before death to disperse labor among other men for projects beyond a single worker's ability. Imagine if others were eager to work with you in the making of a movie or comic so you could avail yourself of ideas and record them in forms that'd re-delight chambers of your brain closed for years. Getting ideas?
Realistically, with little hope, I resign/prepare myself for some shitty job where I'll occasionally need make some promise of what the money will be good for to convince myself to go through the next odious task. But it isn't so fantastic to think, in the course of my lifetime, I could reach sufficient rank in a company or aggregate enough influence by other means to turn out projects in one medium. If only one medium...

Note: I don't well-convey above that it isn't the record of the work only that's desirable. Taking part in the making of something cool, knowing that it will be, and considering coolness (for what's a cool thing made of?) are pleasures in themselves. It's nice to think there's another good thing in the world, something new to enjoy, and I'd a part in it.

Joker or Actor

Sitting at this computer I was across from a pretty woman or atleast a woman who manages makeup well-enough to mask ugliness. Chalk up such observations to idleness, quick wits, or masculine drive. She presented either a pleasant background to the computer screen, akin to a mountain-range an old man may appreciate during lulls in thought, or a distraction from legitimate exercise of mental faculty. While my mind was elsewhere she'd went to chat with a friend at another computer and a fat chick had lumbered over to take what she'd a right to presume unoccupied. So my view was unfavorably replaced. As I gazed around (all these observations before I started writing here) I noticed a guy had just come into the room who looks like a relative of..
The image “http://bostonist.com/attachments/boston_caroline/092807_david_olsen.JPG” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

It is awful like someone were telling me a joke and I get how it could be funny but don't laugh. I'm still drowsy.
A Peruvian waiter the elder of my sisters took a picture of brings to mind interesting possibilities. She showed me his picture because we look an awful lot alike. (sorry it's not available for posting). There's the old German idea of dopplegangers: that we've got duplicates of ourselves somewhere out in the world which we may encounter to fantastic result. If you want to be boring you could leave our phenotypes at similar genotypes owning to a common group of ancestor-traits that're expressed in us both. That idea has some neatness to it: imagine a version of yourself in every culture on earth: Chinese you, British you, Mongolian you, Ethiopian you, etcetera. It'd be like having a superteam. My guess is that a German's genes are what we share.

An existentialist maxim I'm put in mind of is that all of life is a joke so try to get it. Not to mean that there's meaning but that the surprises can all be enjoyed like a punchline. Our lives could be thought of as parts in a game or play and we get to adlib. So let's pretend to be the characters we want written in and then the story will be more to our liking. In absence of justice or morality an existentialist must be pleased with such narcissist-flippancy.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Spalding Gray's Cambodian Monologue

(balding and grey)
His initial intonation held my intention but repetitions began to bore me. His imitation of the Cambodians waving goodbye and phrases he'd repeat in a story were strong examples. But the way he imitated "I'm from South Africaah" was funny.
There were times I wondered why I should care what he thought. Why's he telling me these things? Familiar sensations I'm sure. But after a while I began to transfer more into his telling so that hearing the intimate faster-than-speakable considerations of his mind was like rereading a journal entry, remembering a persona.

Lighting and sound effects were nice spots in the story to shift mood as was him putting on his glasses to read the Cambodian leader's farewell letter.

His telling of the redlight district -though starting with the prospect of it and having some exceptional*images-was devoid of discomforting eroticism. Actual lusty "dirty" feelings do have an inherently private nature so they're awkward when in a situation without outlet. Equivalently awkward is being come on to when not attracted; the want of sex is like a mist in the air, clinging to skin, that one wants to brush away if not enjoying the damp. A girl firing a rotten banana might be an entertaining trick or gross-out; I don't reckon I'd wanna see it. Splat. Eeew, I wouldn't eat that banana but she put it in herself...

*she lathers up and doesn't rinse



Spalding's quest for a perfect moment was an interesting theme. I found in much of his personality I couldn't relate yet it's all the more interesting to live vicariously through him. I don't fret about leaving things around where conveniently stealable (what are robbers stalking me in anticipation?) so I've some curiosity, what does an anxious man do about it? My maxim's "no worries". Things are how they are and lament changes nothing. A sucky situation will be adapted to or a man may die. Even that's not necessarily an evil event; aren't you intrigued by the prospect of existence outside a human body?

It didn't seem that Spalding varied his voice as much as he could. On the flipside, had he varied decibels or such more his intonation may've seemed even closer to uniformity as fewer parts would be far from average. I've heard speakers that start with yelling and seem like they've a lot of range they'll explore then turnout to rely on loudness for emphasis.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Some of what came to mind

Games that simulate war give players some patterns of thought which are of the type that occupy real commanders minds.

Troops are expendable. It's romantic to think that every man sent to fight to the death on our side will not die / no man will be left behind / a commander can possess enough skill to win battles without losing a soldier under him. But in a situation where fights-to-the-death settle matters such an outcome isn't possible. If commanders could decide to keep thier men alive then they would have some ability stronger than all enemy attacks. If some man or group of men were impervious to his/their enemies why would enemies return to a vain struggle?
Once it is accepted that a commander's men will die when they fight every engagement is chilling arithmetic: objective x is worth=# of men's lives. In that math is an odious trait of any but defensive wars, their operators place a value on some thing/s which is higher than their esteem for man. The nobility of the goal becomes irrelevant because at the end of each reason given is the unspoken qualifier "which is more important than the men I expect will die". We war to preserve the Union...to make the world safe for democracy...

When a mind's thoughtless and eyes stare without focus, is a man closer to nirvana?

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_---_-_-_-_-_--____--_-_-_---_------_--__________

Law of non-contradiction: No two premises which contradict can both be true. This law is the basis of all logic.

Paradox: Premises which seem to contradict each other but do not. "Eric was wearing a red shirt on Tuesday v. Eric was wearing a yellow shirt on Tuesday". Wearing a shirt of one color does not eliminate the possibility of wearing a shirt of another color. Eric can wear two shirts or Eric can change from one shirt into another during the course of a day.

In logic definitions decide the truth of an argument. A man may be very confident that what he claims is true and could make very good proofs for his conclusions -using a wrong definition. If the meaning of a word depended on for an argument is not present in its' definition all the justifications relying on that meaning are rendered moot.

When writing these explanations it is very easy to agree with them but tongues need controlled so they don't use familiar but erroneous sayings. Arguments that are regurally used rely on false definitions of words.

Tolerate=to allow a thing that bothers to continue. This word is used to justify arguments condemning critical analysis of practices; it is said "we must tolerate..." when the conclusion argued for is not tolerance but acceptance. "We should be tolerant of other lifestyles" may be said referencing cross-dressing, sodomy, or another action. Such a phrase can be true but is often used to persuade the listener against critical evaluation of the action. A man who does not know whether an action is good, neutral, or evil is in a state of ignorance, not tolerance. A man who thinks smoking an evil practice but does not try to stop a smoker from lighting up is tolerant. A police officer is paid to be intolerant.






Saturday, October 6, 2007

Blindman's tale

Sure, audio doesn't require nostrils or skin to be received but what stories are told through those senses? "Ah, you'd spaghetti for dinner...brush your teeth."

If stripped of other assistance, audio beats visual as mediums for storytelling go. Sound carries all the capability of language; facial expressions and postures can even be inferred from intonation. Where worldless stories can show simple narratives with objects and the like or depict conversations where only the gist is important he's pointing at the boat b/c he wants on it words allow the mysteries of creation to be tongue-probed. Though this value judgment may be annexed by Opinion sound better implies space and texture than sights. Think on bats: their sight is poor but they can tell the depth/density of the world around them by listening to how their yells carry in a space. What creature judges depth with poor hearing and good sight? Our very balance is dependent on internal formulas that accept sonic variables. Radio is also a better medium than a picture-book to tell a story because it can alter moods. Loud/fast noises excite and music stirs the soul. What the light reveals is lesser in ability to move man.

Before hearing This American Life I enjoyed http://www.ilovebees.com/humptydumpty.html

Guys with accents are somewhat amusing to hear b/c of their accents....music keeps stops in talk interesting....background chatter sounds looped...
Why does the chick narrate over the house-woman instead of editing her words for us to hear? The girl speaker is boring, the guy who comes after her talks in a mo' entertaining style. Her trouble entering the conversation reminds me of being around my Grandfather. If you're forceful enough, loud and emphasizing, you're heard. With more men talking passionately words fall loud and pass quickly so there isn't patience to hear halting words or pauses to collect thoughts.

Grossness isn't hipness in jokes. Her pedofile joke did get a chuckle form me. When you told us to listen for what's done with sounds I thought there'd be a lot of sound effects. Are you even still reading this Mr. Anderson?

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Measured Words

Lo’ o'er po' peons earning for eons, paid low, the subsistence of wickedness. In time evil's entirety teeters -tips for its' infamy to tortures infinitely lasting. Almighty Love lets lawbreakers make laws, gave reason for 'em to pause their pawing (thieving) of brotherly labor: to reflect and find reason is telling these heathens their guilty souls sold to Mammon’s maw are marred. With awe then repentance, fearing their fierce sentence oppressors' torment is turned tidily away. Now the provision superfluous allows such abuses and Love in His patience gives bold men the day. Yet coming/dawning the fall fawned over vere what the Lord gave is taken away. Tomorrow is laid the whip-holders in graves; "blessed are the meek for they will inherit the Earth". Between when e how, hours whirled in wrath reaped, hellish as gehenna. As the wicked were spared by the righteous among it will become casual that Father's conquering son is undoer of systems Satanic: brilliant anger shown cursed living men. Wholly is the Earth consumed the holy with abominable. Praise God above! Love! Jesus judges the length of man's trouble.

Better a mother than a laborer

Bear with me; disparate elements come together nicely.


American children go to schools under the pretense we will one day be able to perform a job better or have a preferred career.

In the course of pregnancy a mother is burdened by nausea, additional weight, swelling feet and contractions. A baby relies on his mother's milk for food a time. Because a mother's body carries and nurses her child she is better suited than the babe's father to keep watch over their offspring. During her pregnancy and subsequent recovery (regaining lost health) a mother is worse suited for farming or other forms of toil than her husband. Unhindered by pregnancy or a suckling baby he is better suited to perform labors so his wife has the food, pillows, and whatever else she needs to maintain her and the baby's health.

A woman who becomes a mother will be handicapped in exertions because of her pregnancy and the care her baby requires of her. A woman who has prepared for years to have some occupation will waste her preparation if she is incapacitated by motherhood so that her work is caused to cease. Therein: incentive against starting a family. Yet the life of a man is worth more than works and descendants can honor their parents more than parent's own hands. It is better for a woman to be prepared for motherhood (more prosperous than career) than for her to be prepared for labor.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Babeletionity

Since God came down and confused man's speech we have been unable to understand each other without error. There will never be a one-world language by man's efforts. Language usage keeps fracturing down the ages. By connecting men's thought-machines (computers) the internet let us better show our neighbors +/ over a wider distance our minds. Yet this new method of connection makes no difference to preferences men have concerning what they think about and who they connect with so that overall connection is unaffected. Instead of knowing the guy down the block you know the guy in San Fran whose into the same whatever.

There're some traits of net-communication that have prompted some derivations:

1) Writing being dominant over talking. The writer's intonation is not in his words so he relies on crude facial representations ;) to convey some sense of mood. When men write to one another simultaneously they are unable to see each other's faces to know when someone else is about to communicate (though google chat helps this some with "_____ is typing"). It takes much less time to read than it does to type so the wait for longer messages to be sent is frustrating. Therefore messages tend toward brevity.

2) Writing is done with a keyboard. Unable to freehand (without a tablet and some app....) typers must rely on the symbols of the keyboard to augment their words. Thus l33tsp34k.

3) Availability versus committal. Internet users with broadband or better have more thoughts than we care about accessible in seconds. What keeps us on any single subject is sheer will. Like a man flipping through tv channels or iPod user who doesn't let a song complete we often succumb to desires for what we are interested but not currently engaged in. Consideration lasts for only a few sentences of thought. Hence, "that rocked!" comments on 8 minute movies.

What it is, jive Turkey

Art is the bracket in which are contained works rendered so well they're glorious. The criteria for entry into that bracket is inherent sensory input and spiritual implications. A work may be art because it meets requirements of the flesh (it pleases a sense or senses to a degree only possible for a synthetic rendered with great skill) or the spirit (the work provokes an idea in such a way that the method of deduction is exceptionally beautiful).

Work, however hard, does not become art because of the performance's difficulty or distinctness. Work that's wrought crudely according to sensory perception so questions are raised about art's nature is not by those traits merited so that it may be called art. Old age does not make a work better. Popularity does not make a work worse. The medium an idea is incarnated in has no bearing on its' artiness :)

Though men disagree there is true art.

Turn up this mic

Three things do I deduce doubtless:

1. I exist (whatever I am something exists which questions)

2. God exists (I had a start so I owe my existence to something else, something must exist which owes its' existence to nothing else)

3. Something else exist (however wrong I may be in my beliefs pertaining to this thing there is something I interact with not myself nor God)

In thinking well of the things I perceive, enjoying my interaction, I better infuse myself with that/those thing/s which is good in the pleasure it gives. Yet the other thing is transitional like myself so it is lesser to God. Therefore, my best, surest, greatest pursuit is (connection with)/(excitement over)/(love of) God.



If you want some things more mundane to consider, here you are:
http://www.ronpaullibrary.org/document.php?id=507

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