Lessons in Communication

2011-11-14T21:12:00.000-08:00

Professor Tyrell is lying on a huge bed, his head cushioned amidst a mountain of pillows. He is speaking into a handheld device.
"Note to pantry: milk still too hot. 300 000 of Tsin Tsin: sell. 66 000 of Prosser and Ankopitch: trade at..."
A speaker in the wall next to his headboard interrupts the professor.
"Quinzieme Blue entry: a Ms. J.S. Bach, one-six-four-one-seven."
Tyrell is clearly surprised, "At this hour!"
The speaker continues, "Purpose of visit: Queen to Bishop six. Check!"
Tyrell fusses with his robe as he gets up from the bed, "Check... What nonsense! Wait a minute. Wait a minute!"
As Ultra-Violent enters the room Tyrell is standing beside an antique chessboard, utterly transfixed by the pieces there. He doesn't look up at the sound of footsteps.

"Now," says Ultra-Violent, "here is what I should call real dirt. An old man of your age, Professor Tyrell. Please, The Rhombohedral Lattice System? Haven't we gotten past this?"
Tyrell looks up, alarmed. He moves towards a tasseled bell pull that hangs beside the bed. Then he changes his mind and tries to extend his hand beneath one of the pillows.

U.V. tilts her head to one side and coos, "Go ahead. I want you to reach for that weapon, really, I do."

Tyrell seems to abandon the search, "I'm surprised you didn't come here sooner."

"You know very well that ambiguous terms, like 'rhombohedral crystal system', won't get you anywhere."

Professor Tyrell begins to creech, "But those are not mine, those are the property of the municipality, this is sheer wantonness and vandal work!"

"Tsk tsk, professor. That's what they all say. You deserve to be taught a lesson. How long has it been since you've learned a lesson?"

Tyrell, in a burst of camaraderie, decides to give laughing a try and comes out with a minor guffaw. Ultra-Violent is laughing, too, as she approaches him and places one hand on either side of Professor Tyrell's face. She leans in closer, almost as though she is about to kiss him.

There is a loud sort of ringing, beeping sound, and Ultra-Violent flinches.
"Great timing," she mutters, and grabs the professor by the throat with one hand. "What?!"
She yells directly into the professor's face, then glares at an evil eye poised in one upper corner of his room. U.V. receives a response that is just barely audible to Professor Tyrell, who squirms madly, trying to reach anything that will help him escape her grasp.
"Alright." She says, resignedly as Tyrell grabs some books from a nearby shelf. He attempts to hit her on top of the head with them but she swats his arm away. "You naughty old veck, you."
Her free hand makes a fist, and she hits his jaw so hard that his dentures go flying through the air. "That ought to shut you up. Fortunately for you, I've been called away on urgent business."

2011-11-14T19:15:00.001-08:00

Miraj is hesitant, I can tell.
"Are you sure you want to go with her? Don't you remember what happened last time?"
"Me and Ultra-Violent go back a long way. I think she'd be perfect for this one. After all, you're the one who was trying to warn me about the General, right?"
"Yeah, but she's... Well, you know... She's just not terribly subtle. She's like a blunt instrument."
"I guess you're just going to have to trust me, now, aren't you?"
"I guess so."

2011-11-12T22:03:00.000-08:00

Five such installments have arrived, with the absurd air of disorderly flight. Though it's an inextricable mess, the loot of innumerable outfit shops and provision stores will be delivered. In Crater Lake, there is no great distance from the prison-door to the market-place. The forced public labour that takes place is not an occupation: a convict completes his assignment, or works fixed hours and then returns to the prison, if he survives. The work is looked upon with hatred. Nearly all of the convicts talk and rave in their sleep at night. Oaths, other-world slang, knives, and axes figure most prominently, which is why this calm, low conversation pricks up our audio (placed courtesy of my new friend, Nikolai).

"Am I the manager - or am I not? It was ordered... It's incredible."
"He asked the Administration to be sent there with the idea of showing what he could do; and I was instructed accordingly. Look at the influence the man has."
"HAD. The climate may do away with this difficulty for you. Is he alone?"
"Yes. He sent his assistant with a note to me."

I'm off to track the signal. The manager seems to have an underground office, lava tube, of course. The entrance is surrounded by scrub with a pretty border of smelly mud on one side enclosed by a crazy fence of rushes. There's a sort of neglected gap, and this is where I step into the bell jar (taking a deep breath before I do so). Emerging on the other side into a hallway, I'm aware of the fact that the manager knows I'm here. He begins speaking to me even before we can see one another. I follow his voice down the hall until I locate him reclining on a bed-lounge in the corner of a small room that also contains a sideboard, bookcase, and filing cabinet topped with assorted bottles of whiskey. He offers me a drink though he does not appear inclined to fix one for me. I pour myself two fingers of whiskey and look for a place to sit, pulling one of two cane-bottomed chairs up to his bedside. His eyes, the usual blue, appear to disclaim intention. He's of middle size and ordinary build, a common trader, from his youth up. I can see that he is reckless without hardihood, and greedy without audacity, much like the men with whom he works. Other than this, there is only an indefatigable expression, not quite a smile.

"Everybody has behaved splendidly! Splendidly!" He continues in agitation, "You simply must, I mean, if you have got it then you have got to ring them bells. I mean that like it is, like it sounds: go and see the General."

It's frightening. This man has almost unlimited power over more than two hundred convicts. He looks upon them as his natural enemies.

"Now, sir, surely you have more than that to tell me."
I am speaking softly. I remember learning in defense, once, to keep an eye on a man's midsection. Most people believe that you should look into someone's eyes if you wish to know what that person will do next. I prefer the belly.

"Surely, you must know that the General will carry on regardless of what you do."
"You must know that we will succeed where others have failed."
"I'm afraid you underestimate his... How shall I put it? His character."
"I've heard as much from others."
"You really don't know exactly what you're up against."
"How's that?"
"Well, there's simply no end to his function. He's not just one man."
"What do you mean?"
"I really don't think you'll understand."
"Try me."
I stand up. Not wishing to be too dramatic, I quickly unsheathe the machete hanging from my belt, and stab the seat of the cane-bottomed chair.
"No need for torture, my dear. In fact, this is rather common knowledge."
"Really?"
I've begun hacking the cane off the seat of the chair.
"You may be under the impression that the General is simply one man, but you're wrong."
I pause long enough to say, "You're speaking metaphorically. He's got an entire force under his command."
"Yes, there is that. But you don't understand his form. You can't simply kill him."
"Why not?"
I'm continuing to saw the cane from the seat of the chair, but I'm staring directly at the manager's belly.
"Because he will simply reappear. I take it no one's given you an inkling of this."
"I've heard ridiculous legends, if that's what you mean."
"I'll explain it to you any way that I can, but first you must stop desecrating my chair."
"Shall I desecrate you instead?"
"Only if you find my story lacking."
"I'm looking for more than a story."
"Yes, well. I'll tell you what I can."
"Lets hear it."
"Think of it this way: there is no end to him. You can kill this particular manifestation of him, but never the man as a whole."
"Are you saying he's immortal?"
"I'm saying that no matter how many times you think you've ended his life, a part of him will manage to survive and propagate."
"Like a clone of some sort."
"Or program software. Or a virus."
"Or a parasite."
"Now you're getting the GIST of it."
"So, there's already more of him in existence throughout the galaxy."
"Undoubtedly."
"Do we have any idea how many?"
"Innumerable, and I mean that quite literally: an uncountable set."
"Do you mean 'nondenumerable'?"
"I mean that it may be impossible for you to kill them all."
This causes me to sigh, and place one hand on the back of the cane-bottomed chair. I straighten up, and I am beginning to TWIDDLE the machete as I say, "But it's not as though some other version of the General will come here, either to rescue him or carry on in his place."
"It's quite unlikely that anyone will attempt to rescue him. On the other hand, you may never know whether he's been replaced by a fresher version of himself: upgraded, so to speak. I've certainly never been able to pinpoint a new version. I've also never known the current version to deteriorate. You see, he was here during my father's time. He was here during my grandfather's time. I arrived in Crater Lake more than twenty years ago. While I've certainly passed through the prime of my life, he hasn't aged a day."
"Well, how old is he then?"
"I've always known him to be middle-aged; nothing more, nothing less."
"Hmmm. At the very least you've given me something to consider."
"I expected as much."
"I suppose you'll wish me to spare your life now."
"It would be greatly appreciated."
"Though you'll probably discuss every detail of our conversation with the man himself."
"Completely unnecessary. It's rather inconsequential to him whether or not you possess this information."
"Tell you what, I'll hold off disemboweling you for now, only because you may prove to be useful to me in the near future. Should you cease to carry out any sort of FUNCTION with regards to my purposes, you can be sure that you will be captured. I needn't spell out the import of this to you."
"No need to be vulgar, my dear."
Feeling that I had made my point, I exit the room. Returning the way I came, as soon as I step outside of the bell jar, I contact Miraj.
"I believe I understand what it was you were attempting to explain, regarding the General. I propose that we make a request for reinforcement. Perhaps someone along the lines of Ultra-Violent?"

2011-09-13T00:30:00.000-07:00

We call our devoted little band the "Eldorado Exploring Expedition". We've sworn ourselves to secrecy. When we talk we are desperately aware of the things required in the work of this world and all others in which we are present. To tear treasure out of the bowels of the land is the desire of our enemies. The question is, at what point does one need to take up arms against an oppressor?

The convicts line up in two rows before the guardhouse, waiting for work to begin. They are surrounded by ranks of guards with loaded rifles and stun guns. There is an Indian agent who counts the convicts and sends them to work in parties where they are required. Long ago, in the United States of America, such groups were called "chain gangs". I set off for the engineering workshop. It's held in a low, metal building. The courtyard in front of the main entrance is heaped up with piles of various materials. This facility contains workshops for locksmiths, carpenters, a paintroom, and so on. The General used to come here. He worked in the paintroom, boiled the linseed oil, made up the paints, and carried out research with regard to new binding agents.

There is an officer who oversees the engineers. Several engineers are of a lower rank. They end up supervising the work that the convicts do. I've begun chumming with a few of the mechanics in the station, in spite of their imperfect manners. There is a foreman, Nikolai, a boiler-maker by trade. He's a good worker. He's a lanky, bony, dark-faced man, with big intense eyes. His forehead is perpetually creased in worry. Most of his hair seems to have fallen out long ago, though he still sports a long beard. In this respect, he reminds me of my old friend, Charon. Nikolai likes to tie up his beard in a kind of white serviette he made just for the purpose. It has loops that go over his ears.

Nikolai tells me that "the General's driver - that Rick had left him for the space corps, I decided that was my chance and I managed to get over all right but he already had another driver, a Sergeant Somebody, I forget his name. So there I was, with no status. But I still managed to see a little of it, from the back seat you might say... you probably saw most of the hot places yourself. Where were you stationed?"
"Y.W.C.A.," I say.
"What?" He straightens up, slowly. Looks me in the eye, "You wouldn't be trying to kid me, would you?"
"Why?" I come back. "Don't it work? What I think right now is -"
"Folks don't come in here to think," Nikolai is staring down at his hands again. "They come here to do business and then get out. Do you aim to do any business or don't you?"
"Are you going to let me?" I slap him on the back and shout, "We shall have silicate crystal!"
"No! Silicate crystal!" as though he can't believe his ears. Then in a low voice, "You... eh?"
I put my finger to the side of my nose and nod mysteriously.
"Good for you!" he cries, snapping his fingers above his head, lifting one foot. We try a jig. We caper about in the dust.
"After all," says this boiler-maker in a reasonable tone, "why shouldn't we get the silicate crystal?"
Why not, indeed!
"Three weeks," I say, confident.

2011-08-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

very good. you give me so much at one time.

2011-07-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

Brunch at the saloon, with the grrls: Colette, Jo, Miraj, and myself.

"'My dear woman,' he cried, 'I write from DICtation!' Well, of course, it was all over pretty quickly after that."
Jo's dishing on how she was able to take care of Wynn without chipping a nail.

"Brilliant. And not one shot fired through the whole mess."
"Well, shit, Jo. If I'd known Wynn was gonna be that easy, I would've finished him off myself."
"Carey, dear, I'm not sure that you've got quite the right equipment for that. It wasn't exactly a women's touch that he was looking for..."
"Right, of course."
"No wonder they won't let Jo carry a gun in this town. She's packin enough heat as it is! Ha ha!"
"You would think that any self-identified woman would have the right to defend herself no matter where she goes. Goodness knows she's sure had the need to, ever since the dawn of Homo sapiens. She wasn't nothin but a man's property up until a coupla centuries ago."
"You know why? Cuz that was the only protection a woman had. If there wasn't a man to claim her and fight off the other men, she'd get violated all the fuckin time. There would have been no end to it."
"Women are still violated all the time."
"Yeah, but think about it this way: a man respects another man's property, or he'll risk getting physically hurt. A woman all alone, what kinda chance does she have? How's she gonna defend herself?"
"Do you think that's all because women were perceived as the weaker sex? Cuz you know, technically speaking, there's a wider spectrum of physical strength within male humans than there is between the sexes."
"I think it was partly an evolutionary thing. If women weren't treated as though they were more delicate then perhaps they wouldn't have survived long enough to reproduce and raise their young."
"True. Women had to survive childbirth and breastfeeding in order to raise the next generation. They required more care than men did, even if it was mostly women taking care of women."
"Is that why it took us so long to learn how to fight?"
"Seems like there's a lotta people who still think we're the weaker sex. Right, Carey?"
Everyone's suddenly starin at me but I've lost track of the conversation.
"What? A woman's right to bare arms?"
"Yeah, sleepy head. Are you with us?"
"Of course. Of course! A woman has the right to dress any way that she chooses."
"Even if she chooses to adorn herself with a Model 1 Smith and Wesson?"
"Huh?"
"C'mon, Carey, we're trying to have a discussion. Get with the program."
"The thing is," Jo arches one eyebrow, as nonchalant as ever, "and I'm speaking from a privileged position here, ahem. I think that most male aggression is directly related to his penis. He's angry because he can't get it up. He's angry because it's up and he doesn't know what to do with it. That's why there's so much emphasis placed on a woman's physique. Women have to look sexy so that a man can get it up. If he can't get it up then he can't have sex, and if he can't have sex then what kind of a man is he! See what I mean? Then he's going to blame problems on everything but his own penis. If he can't get it up then it's the woman's fault. If it's up and there's no woman interested in having sex with him then there's obviously something wrong with women in general. And on it goes..."
"The thing is, Joe," I've stopped disassociating, and I'm about to giv'em a lashing, "why should we have to get violent? Dammit. Why can't we be pacifists? We shouldn't be punished because we don't know how to fight. Why should we have to learn? We have every right not to defend ourselves. We have every right not to be attacked in the first place. Why should we have to change our behaviour when we're doing nothing wrong? You see?"

2011-06-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

"Y'know, sometimes I get so flushed. It's interesting. Do your palms ever itch?"
I awoke to the sound of Colette's voice. She was sitting on the edge of my bed, smoking something in a long cigarette holder.
"You do realize this is a non-smoking room? No tobacco smell. That's a pretty nice consideration for the business traveler."
"Carey, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it, don't wait for it, just... let it happen. Could be Gauloises wherever you feel like smoking, a catnap, or two cups of good, hot, black coffee."
"I'd take you up on the coffee but that would be your second treat of the day, wouldn't it?"
"When was the last time you treated yourself?"
"Huh?"
"Tomorrow afternoon we're gonna meet with Mirj and Josie at the saloon, and we're gonna drink cosmos, AND we're gonna plan a day together at the spa. Got it? Think of this as a team-building exercise."
I'm covering my head with a sheet, wishing it was all just a dream. I don't even hear Colette leaving but by the time I decide to get up and at'em, she's gone.

2011-06-22T21:15:00.000-07:00

As I attempted to exit the saloon, I realized someone was leaning against the doorway. The night had become so dark that I couldn't determine who it was until I stood next to her: Josie. I decided that I ought to rely on my rudimentary Spanish.
"Fue capaz de deshacerse de Wynn?"
"Si, senorita."
"¿Cómo lo hiciste?"
"Con amor."
Perfect. Jo is a true professional, though never accepted as such. "¿Dónde está?"
"Te dejaré saber."
I knew Jo well enough to understand that this was all I would get from her at the moment. "Tenga cuidado. Buenas noches."
"Buenas noches, senorita."

2011-06-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

Back in the saloon, I was speaking casually with Miraj. He had been planning to become assistant manager by and by, under the present man. And if he did secretarial work for the manager, it was because "no sensible man rejects wantonly the confidence of his superiors."

Did I see it? I saw it. What more did I want? I had to laugh. Miraj tells me, "Carey, you are of the new gang - the gang of virtue. The same people who sent me specially recommended you. Oh, don't say no. I've my own eyes to trust."

I nearly burst out into laughter again. "Don't you read the Company's confidential correspondence?!"

He hadn't a word to say. Meanwhile, figures strolled about listlessly, pouring water on the glowing candles at our table. The sound of hissing followed, smoke rising. Were they closing already? I am surrounded by indefatigable men and yet, they were all succumbing to the night quite willfully. What time was it?

A man with a black moustache passes our table, speaking loudly, "Serves him right. Transgression - punishment - bang! Pitiless, pitiless. That's the only way. This will prevent all conflagrations for the future. I was just telling the manager..." The moustached stranger pauses and turns around to stare at Miraj, who in turn, appears crestfallen that he's been noticed (even without the glow of our candle). Still staring at Miraj, "Not in bed yet," he says with a kind of servile heartiness. "It's so natural. Ha! Danger - agitation." Then the stranger vanishes into the gathering darkness. Indeed, I began to feel that it was time for us to head back to our rooms. Miraj did not acknowledge any such need.
"God, would you listen to yourself?"
I assumed he was speaking in response to the moustached stranger. Miraj continues muttering to no one in particular, "We really aren't that concerned."
Looking at me now, he says, "We simply must get the girls together."
Of course, I agreed.
"But before we do, there's something you need to know."

I am curious. What could it possibly be? "Is it Joe?"

"Joe? No, no. Nothing going on there that we haven't already sussed-out." Miraj gives me a wink. "It's the General; how he came to be promoted to the rank of officer, and then a senior commander to some fortress here."

Could this be something new? "By all means, carry-on, Mirj."

"There was a chief, rather peaceful fellow. In fact, I believe he was a pacifist of sorts: encouraging non-violent protests and the like. One night someone set fire to a fortress. The General was stationed there.

At this point in time, he was just another young soldier, though he was cunning, very cunning. The hostile tribes were being blamed for the incident. A month after the event, the General was drinking tea with the peaceful chief. This was just another friendly chat, like several they had shared before. This chief believed in the power of dialogue, especially with his enemies. He arrived for tea suspecting nothing, for he hadn't really known the General very long.

What he didn't realize was that our General had convinced his superiors that he knew who had set the fire. Our General had his regiment surround the tea room where the meeting was to take place. When the chief arrived, our General publicly accused and upbraided him. Right there on the spot our General delivered a most detailed reprimand and in conclusion shot the chief, killing him instantly. Thus began the long career of our illustrious General, for he was immediately promoted."

"That hardly seems shocking, when one considers the environment..."

"No. What some find shocking is the notion that the General set the fire himself."

"I see."

"This is all just to give you an indication of the man with whom we are dealing."

I remain unsurprised, for I've heard much worse regarding the General.
"I understand. They say there is no trade with which he is unfamiliar."

"Yes. The General is a joiner, a cobbler, a shoemaker, a painter, a gilder, a locksmith and... "

"He learned all of these skills while in prison."

"Yes, that was before he became a soldier. Did you know how he came to be a prisoner in the first place?"

I shake my head, though I know very well how the General had become a convict in his early life. I'm curious to find out what it is that Miraj feels the need to share with me.

"He was of noble origin, had worked in government service and had been something of a prodigal son to his sixty-year-old father. But his behaviour became thoroughly dissipated, he had become embroiled in debt. His father had tried to exert a restraining influence on him, had tried to make him see reason; but the father had a house and a farm, it was suspected he had money, and - the General murdered him in order to get his hands on the inheritance.

The crime was not discovered until a month later. The General, who was just a young man of twenty, informed the police that his father had disappeared. Then he spent the next month in the utmost debauchery. Finally, in the General's absence, the police discovered the body.

He made no confession. He was stripped of his nobility and government service rank. Then he was sentenced to twenty years' deportation and penal servitude. He was approved for parole after serving five years on the Moon. The agreement was that if he remained here he would be granted some leniency. The administration was pleased with all of the skills he had taught himself. Then he began to serve in the convict battalions back on Earth. He returned to the Moon as a soldier, tried and true, and well, now you know the rest."

I'm still not quite sure what Miraj is getting at, here. Is this supposed to lead up to some sort of blackmail?

At that moment, two figures appear in the entrance. They literally waltz inside the saloon. Even in the dim light, I know exactly who it is. As always, the General was unmistakable and Colette was sporting a dazzling smile, complete with a bit of tumblewire sticking out the corner of her mouth. Then I am suddenly within the throws of the General's continual pontification.

"We pounded along, stopped, landed soldiers; went on, landed custom-house clerks to levy toll in what looked like a God-forsaken wilderness, with a tin shed and a flag-pole lost in it; landed more soldiers - to take care of the custom-house clerks, presumably. They were just flung out there, and on we went...-I remember it, but I can't explain..."

Had the General arrived for a grilling? Did he already know who was dead and who was alive, and how they got on? My position was no better. I could tell him, in fact, I repeat to him several times that the situation was "very grave, very grave". I inform him that Dr. Hubbleworth and Chester had been transported to proper beds within our secure medical facility. There was still no trace of Wynn or Joe. When I explained this to the General he said he was "very, very uneasy". Certainly when he finally did sit down he fidgeted around on his chair a good deal. Next thing he wanted to know "how long it would take to..."

I interrupted him.

"How can I tell?" I said. All this talk seemed to me so futile, but I did not try to stop him.

By this point, it was so pitch dark that we listeners could hardly see one another. For a long time already the General, sitting apart, had been no more to us than a voice. There was not a word from anyone else. Everyone around us might have been sleeping, but I was still awake. I listened, I listened on the watch for a sentence, or a word, that would explain the uneasiness inspired by this General's narrative which seemed to shape itself without human lips in the heavy night air. Yes - I let him run on and think what he pleased. I did, while he talked fluently about "the necessity for every man to get on. And when one comes out here, you conceive, it is not, of course, to gaze at the moon. Ha ha ha heh haheha ha."

He was becoming confidential now, but I fancy my unresponsive attitude must have exasperated him at last, for he judged it necessary to inform me he feared neither God nor devil, let alone any mere woman. I tell him I can see that very well, but what I really want is a certain quantity of silicate crystal. He changes his manner; becoming very cold, and simply carries on with the narrative he'd already begun...

"In that same year, the Indian Branch became its own department, with inside staff including the superintendent general, chief clerk, accountant, and clerical staff, and an outside staff comprising 460 field workers responsible for the implementation of policies directed at Indians. These outside workers were called Indian agents, and were invested with tremendous authority over the reserves and the people with whom they worked."

By this time I could hear Miraj snoring, and Colette was nowhere to be seen. I decide to call it a night.

2011-05-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

Doc is waking up. He mumbles something like, "I want to start off slow, ask for a 60-ouncer at first... Then I'll work my way up."
Now I must remind him where and when he is.
"Doctor Hubbleworth! Do you know what planet you're on?"
Trick question.
"Trick question, Carey. I may be dumb but I ain't stupid. We are smack dab in the middle of Crater Lake: one of the thirteen restricted hamlets on the moon."
"You got it, Clyde. In fact, you used to be the Chair of this town's Substance Education Committee, that is, until you started abusing your privileges, so to speak. Do you remember the events that brought you to this particular hospital bed?"
No reply at all. Well, it would all come out in time.

2011-04-04T19:58:00.000-07:00

I realize now that I've neglected to describe Joe's walking stick in detail, and it is quite deserving. It's a wonderful example of reuse, you see. He took a length of PVC tubing and reinforced it with some of the tumble wires that he'd found floating around. The end result is quite sturdy, yet pliable. So that I do have enough time, while supporting Chester, to wonder what has become of Wynn. Surely, if I were to finish Chester off, right here and now, I would have to contend with Wynn. Presumably, he would want to prevent me from killing Chester right here and now, so he should be turning up right here and now to stop me. And yet, he is nowhere to be seen. I can't help thinking that Wynn has snuck around the back of this hut (Dr. Hubbleworth likes to refer to it as his 'cabin') and come across either the Doctor himself, or Joe. I really ought to investigate, however, I have this human being to support and I don't quite know what to do with him.

I have dragged Chester's limp, passed-out body into the building beside the Doc's hovel. It is another apothecary's shop, where Miraj is accosting a clerk.
"Anything, ideally, with opium in it will do...? Alcohol to keep it in solution of course... perhaps some formulation that would go well with the Daffy's Elixir of which we plan to purchase..."
Miraj is a first-class agent, young, gentlemanly, a bit reserved, with a forked little beard and a hooked nose. I wonder what he's working on here. He seems to be covered in blood. I wonder to whom that blood belongs...
"- eeh, how many cases was that again,...?" Dr. Hubbleworth has suddenly appeared from behind a glass cupboard in which various instruments are dustily jumbled. Apparently, the Doctor has somehow been attending the exchange despite the fact that he too, is covered in blood. Furthermore, it looks to be his own as there is a scalpel protruding from his left shoulder. That must be the work of our customs officer. The Doctor raises a finger.
"'Strangers heed my wise advice: never pay the retail price.'"
He passes out upon the floor. I hesitate a moment and then I drop Chester on top of him, relieved to have found such an opportunity.
"Perhaps they have fought each other to the death, or near death, as the case may be."
Miraj winks at me, remains cheery, "In that welcome event," making a carefree motion in the air with his handkerchief, "a hundred cases should do the trick, for this time out, anyway, - Now as to that oahpiated article we're discussing, -"
"Aye, we call it Laudanum, Sir - compounded according to the original formulae of the noted Dr. Paracelsus of Germany. Preventive against a variety of ailments, sir? -Excellent anti-costive properties, - given the uncertainty of diet, -"

The Doctor is attempting to raise his index finger from the position that he holds upon the floor, mumbling, "The commissioners know all too well about Daffy's Elixir, and the uses tis put to."
Miraj is more than willing to finish this request on the Doctor's behalf.
"And being imported, tis only to be had, at prices charged in the English-shops. Now, for a tenth of that outrageous sum, our good apothecary will compound you a 'Salutis' impossible to distinguish from the original. Or you may design your own, consulting with him as to your preferred ratio of jalap to senna, which variety of treacle pleases you, - all the fine points of Daffyolatry are known to him, he has seen it all, and nothing will shock or offend him."

For just a moment I felt I belonged still to a world of straightforward facts; but the feeling did not last long. There was a touch of insanity in this proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the performance. I longed to return to my position back at the saloon where I felt I had at least the capacity to make more sense of the world. The problem with Miraj is that he tends to be stand-offish with the other agents.
"Miraj, it's so good to see you. How did you find yourself in the company of this fine surgeon?"
"Why HE approached ME in the vestibule of this fine establishment. Can you imagine? The state he's in... Then he asked me to his room, which was in the main building of the station..."
"Insatiable appetite, this old gent. I happen to know that he'd only JUST finished dining with a young man in his cabin a few moments ago."
"... and I perceived that this young aristocrat had not only a silver-mounted dressing-case but also... The business entrusted to this fellow was the making of bricks -so I had been informed; but there wasn't a fragment of a brick anywhere in the station..."
"The making of bricks, you say."
They were all waiting -for something; and upon my word it did not seem an uncongenial occupation, from the way they took it, though the only thing that ever came to them was disease - as far as I could see. There is an air of plotting about this place, and nothing can cure it. The human condition, I suppose. The philanthropic pretense of the whole concern, as their talk, as their government, as their show of work. The only real feeling was a desire to get appointed to a trading-post where silicate crystals were to be had, so that they can earn percentages.

2011-03-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

Fortunately, I have an idea. I pick up Joe's walking stick, at the same time I glance out the closest window through which I can still see the Doc's cabin. No sign of life there.
"Carry this inside your sarape like it's a shotgun. They'll never know the difference."
"But they're arms men."
"Exactly. Like I said, they'll never know the difference. Follow directly behind me, back to back, no matter what happens."
"Always a pleasure, my dear."
As soon as I step outside the saloon door I yell, "Throw up your hands, you rotten old cowboys!"
Together, we march out into the middle of the street. Joe stays right behind me, carryin the stick just the way I told him to. Chester runs towards us declaring that he "ain't armed". I can't tell if this is some kinda trick so I'm relieved when Joe whips out the staff and uses it to put Chester in a choke hold.
"Stay with me!" I'm tryin to speak to Joe over my shoulder as I start heading down the street to Doc Hubbleworth's place. It's like we're moving in some kinda strange sandwich race: me and Joe are still back to back, and he's dragging Chester along with us. I'm not sure what sort of scene I'll encounter upon opening Doc's front door, but I don't want him to know we're about to pay a visit.
"Joe, callate!"
My Spanish is not very good, but I think he gets the point. We're approachin the Doc's veranda, I'm preparing myself to kick in his door, when I see it open a crack. I immediately stop, thinkin that the muzzle of a gun is gonna peak its way out. Instead, I see bloody fingers clutching at the edge of the door frame.
"Dammit!" I'm cursin out loud, believin that we're too late and the Doc's already completed his day's work, but it's the customs officer cautiously backing through the front door. Maybe the Doc finally got what's comin to him? Not bloody likely. "Just the man I wanted to see! You run on down, now and get the General. Bring'im back here. He'll sort this mess out." I feel that I am jubilant, though I'm not quite certain I understand the meanin o'the word. The customs officer is startled, but ready to run, as he was probably about to do in any case. I just hope he's able to bring the General up here in time.
"Uh, Carey? Nosotros tenemos mas influencia sin que el general."
I'm thinkin back to that one semester of beginner's Spanish. It's not enough.
"Joe, yo sé que tú no quieres estar aquí con el general. Salir de entre nosotros y entrar en la casa del médico."
I'm not sure if that's right, but I know that it's at least a valiant effort. I'm slowly turning around so that I'm facing Joe and Chester. I reach around Joe and place my hands beside his on the staff that's holding Chester in check. Joe makes sure that I've got a good grip then he slowly ducks down, crouching all the way, he creeps through the Doc's front door. As soon as Chester realizes that I'm the one holding him he starts squirming around like the snake that he is. I bring my left leg up right between his, hard and fast enough to bring'im to his knees. In an instant, Chester is all but dangling from the staff, as my choke hold is the only thing that's keeping him from collapsing to the ground.

I thought for sure that Doc would've locked his front door. Is that not an important part of his modus operandi? Perhaps he is slipping. If he's already done for, my own work here will go so much more smoothly. I'm getting tired of holding Chester up. If I apply just a little more pressure, he'll pass out and I can drag him into Doc's hut. If I apply too much pressure then I won't have to worry about Chester at all anymore, though I may have to worry about the General. I can only give him so much at one time.

2011-03-20T19:22:00.001-07:00

He continues to suck back the cigarillo in between comments.
"Crater Lake is a cozy village populated by more than seven million fascinating individuals..."
He is bone tired from long days. He sits back and crosses his legs. His eyes are deepset. His brow bones jut out as do his cheek bones. When he is not smiling his face is full of shadow. Joe Manco has always had this problem. He's told me in the past about walkin down the street, people see him comin and cross over to the other side. What he doesn't realize is that there are a couple of people waitin on him right now. They may be across the street, or they may be right outside that door, or they may be comin round the corner at any minute.
"Wynn is gross in movement. He's shrewd, Joe."
"And Chester?"
"Chester is built as his brother, but slower of mind."
"How do they feel about your arrival in town?"
"That's none of your concern."
"They got two against one. I find that mighty concernin, Carey. You gonna make your play, or are you gonna talk me to death?"
"There is no way out, and you know it."
"The village is the place to which the roads tend, a sort of expansion of the highway..."
"Where they once dug for money, but never found any..."
"Nobody repairs it, for nobody wears it..."
"But a direction out there, and the bare possibility of goin somewhere?"
"I hear ya, sista."
The problem is, so do they.

2011-03-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

I took a stroll over to the saloon. Situated directly across the road from the old apothecary's shop, it allowed me to keep an eye on the Doctor without being too conspicuous. Dodging a few tumble-wires along the way, I noticed that the air was picking up speed. Then I saw Joe Manco come around the corner of the saloon. He was wearing a brightly-coloured sarape, beat-up old hat with a telescope crown, and tanned cowboy boots. He is unshaven to the point of sporting a full beard. His trademark cigarillo is lit, hanging out of his mouth. He enters the saloon moments before me, pretending that he doesn't know I'm right behind him. I sit down beside him at the bar and order us both a whiskey.
"Blondie, let me stun you senseless with cosmopolitans."
One of the patrons began to laugh. Then another. Soon we were all laughing together while Joe continued to smoke his cigarillo and squint at us nonchalantly. Cool as a cucumber, he says out of the side of his mouth, "I knew somebody like you, once... and there was no'ne to help." He smiles crookedly blowing smoke in my face. I stare at him without blinking and say, "You know what you are? You're a whore."
"Takes one to know one, darlin."
"I do my best, pardner." I return his crooked grin.
"What are you doin back in town, Carey?"
"Time to get down to business, my friend."
"Everything ready?"
I can't see his eyebrows, but I know that they're raised. I ignore his question and ask my own.
"You still thinking about going home?"
He pauses a moment before answering.
"I never found home that great. Hey, remember America?"
"America, oh who discovered yer ass?"
"Land o'the free?"
"Land of the BRAVE, not quite. My friend -"
"You knew it was finished before it began?"
"We gotta have this conversation again?"
"O'course, maybe this time it'll finish the right way."
"Not bloody likely."
"You see, the thing to be remembered is this, Carey. America wasn't like anything that ever happened before. Oh, maybe your first Romans, but I doubt it. No, ma'am. America was sui generis -"
"Ain't nothin generous about it, suh. How would any American know what existed before..."
"The strong devour the weak every time... "
"Americans got everything by cuttin the Indians' throats and stealin whatever wasn't nailed down."
"And that's the way of the world."
"Terribly Malthusian of you, dahlingk."
"Well, what the hell point of view do you presume to speak from? You think you're speakin on behalf o'the goddam proletariat?... Yeah, don't hear your bourgeois ass laughing now. Marx was fuckin bourgeois too. Did you know that?"
"So what? He was still defending the rights of the workers who -"
"The workers who fuckin supported his ass? Did Marx ever see a day of manual labour himself? Isn't that exactly what he was supposed to be fighting against? So, it's ok for him to lead the proletariat in a revolution but it's not ok for any other bourgeois leaders to do the same."

"Stop. STOP! Dr. X, this is not how the simulation is s'posed to go."
"You want to win this argument, Carey? Then fuckin play the game."
"Oh, come on. Dr. X yer not playin fair. I specifically chose certain parameters that were within my -"
"Knowledge base?"
"I was gonna say, 'skill set'."
"Carey, if you feel yer gettin out-played here then you can always PAUSE, study-up, and then come back to the conversation."
"It's not a conversation. This one always turns into an argument and I feel like I need to win it in order to move on."
"Do what you have to do, Carey."
"Dr. X, I didn't think this was s'posed to be about winning or losing."
"What do you think we're doin right now? Yer tryin to convince me o'something outside the parameters o'the game. If you win, things within the game will change. If you lose, they'll stay the same. What you don't seem to realize is that it's still a fuckin game. Change the parameters all you want. At the end of the day..."
"It's s'posed to be about the play, the process. Why does it have to be so adversarial? Is that all there is? Me against the next guy. I survive and he dies, or the other way around. Nothing in between. Is there no cooperation in life?"
"What are we cooperating for, here?"
"Collective well-being."
"Fine. You tell the story then."
"Very funny."
"More cooperation, huh? I think we can work with that."
"Thank god."
"Ha ha. Very good. You give me so much at one time..."
"Dr. X?"
"Yeah?"
"It's hard, making your mark on the world."
"It certainly is. It certainly is. People spend most of their lives trying to make their own mark indelible and then once that's achieved, a good deal of them spend the rest of their lives trying to erase it."
"I know what you mean."
"Well? Back to the game..."

2010-08-14T10:12:00.000-07:00

See an aged man, advancing toward us. His hair is white with years, and he is singing,
"I am a poor, wayfaring stranger
Wandering o'er this world of woe
And there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go..."
Then, suddenly, shouting, "I come to lead you to the other shore, to the eternal dark, to fire and frost. And you approaching there, you living soul, keep well away from these - they are dead. There lies your Company's station."

I venture to hint that the Company is run for profit, and silence falls upon the woolly cheeks of our Charon. He responds simply by pointing at three barrack-like structures on a rocky slope. "I will send yer things up. Four boxes did you say? So. Farewell."

Down past his hairy chin a length of beard descends, uncombed, and unclean. It didn't really matter: everybody was insured once possession o'the ticket had been assumed. Half a dozen passengers lent on the rail, amongst hobbled turkeys, and stared at the warehouse, the empty baked street complete with bonestrewn waste. A customs officer was watching angrily. As he paced, he encountered wretched parcels of foot-travelers who called out to him and men dead where they'd fallen and men who would die. Soon the Doctor came scrambling down. He'd not seen to his person in weeks and he was filthy, disheveled. He tugged at the custom officer's trouserleg and pointed toward the fortifications on the hill from which the General was emerging.

"'Demagogue'!" mutters Dr. L. Roger Hubbleworth. "Our excellent Sprout Penn, the latest of his crypto-Jesuit ruling family, and HIS Satanick arrangement with Mr. Allen, HIS shameless Attentions to... has the effrontery to speak of 'crushing this Demagogue' - well, well, aye, Demagogue... Milton thought it a 'Goblin word,' that might yet describe good Patriots, -"
The Doctor observes us all, one at a time, through the tinted lenses of spectacles (his own invention, to moderate the glare of the sun).

The oldest inhabitant of the village croaks, "Well, of all things... Can it be, really? No! Yes! Oh HI! Oh, my eye! My mind may be wandering, but I confess, I believe it is..."

See the General. He is pale and thin. He wears a ragged linen shirt.
"The first steps at Manning Depot... included a medical exam and... Then to the stores to line up for a new uniform, from boots to wedge cap - no trial fitting, just size based on the opinion of one o'the clerks staffing the long table, and even including a brass-polishing kit for your buttons. (Well-polished brass gave the impression of long military service!) Then we heard that our corporal had been charged with an infraction and a sergeant (unknown to us) would be administering the test - panic! Guess who became breakfast waiters? We served three sittings of porridge, toast, ham and coffee... They thought this was quite a joke! Oh yes, and for a fee of 6 pence, you could get a hot bath in a tub at the old local mental asylum... Barracks were the standard one-storey shed for 35 men, with one community washroom nearby... All headed by a young officer, so inexperienced that he blushed when we saluted him..."

"It's good to hear English spoken," Doc says to no one in particular. "Now, you learnt yours in the States?"
The General agrees. He was feeling garrulous, wasn't he?
"Ah, what I wouldn't give," starts Doc, "to be there now."
Doc continues in a low and anxious voice to the customs officer, "You don't happen, do you, to have a drink in that case of yours? Some of you people back there - I've known one or two - a little for medical purposes."
"Only medicine," the officer replies, his bloodshot eyes look slyly out of their corners at the General.
"You are the Doctor?"
"You would call me perhaps a - quack? Patent medicines? Live and let live," Doc says. He puts his hand on his stomach, "You haven't got any medicine have you for - oh hell. I don't know what. It's just this bloody land. You can't cure me of that. No'ne can."
"You want to go home?"
"Home," the Doctor continues, "my home's here. It's too hot anyway. I think I must find somewhere to sit. Come up to my place for a moment. Don't worry about your post. The General is here, afterall."
The customs officer hesitates. "You will be receiving this trunk?"
"Of course. I've got a spare hammock," Doc says with a wink.
The customs officer stares at him. "I was expecting to meet someone... The name was Lopez."
"Oh, they shot him weeks ago," Doc explains nonchalantly.
"Dead?"
"You know how it is round here. Friend of yers?"
"No, no," the officer protests hurriedly.
"Well, that's how it is." He brings up his bile again and spits it out into the hard sunlight. "They say he used to help... Oh, the undesirables... Well, to get out... Oh god, I'd like a drink. Ora pro nobis."
"I have a little brandy," the officer offers.
Doc regards him sharply. "Where?" And seizes his wrist. "Careful," he says. "Not here..."
A sentry sat nearby on an empty crate, asleep.
"Come to my place," the Doctor entreats.

I follow at a distance, of course. There was still no paving, but the ground was hard under the feet, like stone. Ahead, I could see a little wooden hut, one storey high with a veranda where a hammock swung. At least he hadn't fabricated this detail. The hut was a little larger than the others in the narrow street which petered out 200 yards away in a semi-toxic dump. Doc leads the way inside the pungent and dim back reaches of his own apothecary, being sure to lock the door behind him. But I am already familiar with his place: a dining-room where two rocking-chairs stand on either side of a bare table, among bins of Godfrey's Cordial and Bateman's Drops, Hopper's Pills, and Smith's Medicinal Snuff. This room, where bargains are struck, strings of numbers and letters and alchemists' signs whisper'd (and some never written down) would be cobwebbed and dingy with old paint; its floor is strewn with gray sand, in a fashion that has elsewhere fallen into disuse.

Once here, the Doctor could play upon the young officer as he chose. Would he arouse him with a throb of agony? His victim was forever on the rack. He needed only to know the spring that controlled the engine; - and the physician knew it well! Would he startle him with sudden fear? True, the officer eyes the Doctor with a doubtful, even fearful countenance, but he has his orders. The trunk must be delivered and signed for by a Dr. L. Roger Hubbleworth. Doc's gestures, his gait, his grizzled beard, the slightest and most indifferent of his acts, the very fashion of his garments, were odious in the custom officer's sight; a token, implicitly to be relied upon, of a deeper antipathy in the breast of the Doctor...

"It's not so bad, is it," concedes the Doctor, "for this town. You can't imagine the difficulties... I'll get the glasses out, but first I'd like to show you - you're an educated..."
The operating-room looks out on a yard where a few turkeys move with shabby nervous pomp.
"The window," the officer says, "is very beautiful..."
Forceps stand in a cup, a broken spirit-lamp is pushed into a corner, and gags of cotton-wool lay on all the shelves.

2010-07-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

The letter 'A' (when capitalized) bears resemblance to the inverted heart. This is a fact of which Thomas Pynchon was most certainly aware.

2010-07-08T12:33:00.000-07:00

"The founders of a new colony, whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the sight of a prison."

from The Scarlet Letter by
Nathaniel Hawthorne

deep sleepnessness

2010-06-04T00:43:00.000-07:00

"I believe that all my imaginistic work is composed during deep sleep. But I am very seldom aware of dreaming."
[bells ringing]
"For me, even worse than blindness or deafness would be sleepnessness... sleepnessness..."
[bells ringing]
"... sleepnessness... I believe that all of my imaginistic work is composed during deep sleep. But I'm very seldom aware of dreaming... sleepnessness..."
[bells ringing]
"I believe that all of my imaginistic work is composed during... But I'm very seldom aware of dreaming..."

"Eleven o'clock marks the change. And the change is the Alternative Bedtime Hour. Delirium in the background right now... Bill Nelson, "Sleepnessness"... Stress, "My Father Once Said"... Bad Big King, Carcass... From the Residence Dedication to Elvis, "Baby King, Part FIVE"... Fred, "The Miss X Mix of Rosebud"... And bug powder and all, William S. Burroughs, "What are We Here for?"... Sort of an eternal question, isn't it?"

The Moon?

2010-03-07T14:24:00.000-08:00

"And what am I to do in the meanwhile?"

"Perhaps you could find out something else... There must be something which could be brought against... and then dropped, according as to whether... comes to... senses or not."

"Of course that could be done. What about this?"

"Look! Keep the peace and be of good behaviour... I have to keep the peace... I'm glad I'm in good with my P.O. now..."
"Cool. Anyways, nothing really changed for me... Yeah, you saw that?! The whole time... Anyway, uh, I have to go to a community service... two grams... He's like, 'You're selling it aren't you?' Who's a happy...?"
"Actually, ..."
"You know what I was doing?"

***

2010-01-01T00:14:00.000-08:00

Disgust or hatred, terror, anguish and despair are the sentiments that she might have experienced in her servitude to time. Unfortunately, for her there can be no time. A mere mortal has the capacity to experience a certain amount of anxiety when contemplating the fact that s/he could die at any moment. This is not my fate. I am experiencing acute anxiety because I will never die at any time.
Lupe, tristitia
Child of the Light and of the gods,
Taedium
Behold, I am in exile, seperated from them.
Phobos, timor, ekplexis, stupor, pavor, expavescentia
My enemies fell upon me,
And carried me
aporia, consternatio, amekhania
All in ignorance

Since I went forth into the Darkness,
Agnoia, ignorantia
I was given a water to drink which was bitter to me.
I bear a burden which does not belong to me

I am in the midst of my enemies,
The beast surrounding me;
The burden which I bear
Is of the powers and principalities.

Matter and her children
Divided me up amongst them.
They burn me in their fires,
They give me a bitter likeness.

The strangers with whom I have mixed,
Know me not;
They tasted my sweetness,
They desired to keep me with them.

I am life to them,
And yet I live not.

Deliver me from this profound nothingness,
This ache without end
From the abyss which is all torment,
And in which there is neither helper or friend!

Never, never is salvation found here;
Where there can be no growth nor entropy
I will occupy this same form eternally

I am a god
And a
Resplendent demon
Yakshas and peris

I am a somber inexorable dragon.
They make me
See death and pain.
They rush upon me...

2009-06-30T00:08:00.001-07:00

ELUSIVE

the main event

2009-05-15T10:52:00.000-07:00

So, lets say that there's one main event that can be split into an infinite number of events. These multiple events could be infinite in and of themselves. We could call that the universe, if we were so inclined. And then we've got time which is just the by-product of gravity/electro-magnetivity and mass. Time is the infinite unfolding of events in a certain order. We could also call this infinite unfolding 'cause'.

We are just so many of these events, and we're surrounded by an infinite number of other events. What we do is, we go about naming these events. We can't help but observe them around us and when we do that we can't help but pick out similarities; some events are like others, some are not like others.

Any questions so far?

...?...

Well, just attribute it to C.Gibson at the end of the 20th century.

"I CRIED, YOU DIDN'T LISTEN"

2009-04-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

Look at dis fuckin report, Maro! Jus look at it! Look at K Jan! I’s garbled all to hell, but he’s finally addressin... He’s comin to terms wid what he really did. D’whole reason why he’s in here. Maro. It’s progress. I know it is. I can feel it.

There were three hours before Billy’s parents would come home. He spent it putting together a shareholder presentation. He got out some flip-charts and some brightly coloured markers. He carefully wrote:

Rebranding Strategy
Rebranding property in question? Babyface.
Critical path to be followed? Fire. Initiate police investigation. Buckle down on grades. Seek new sponsors.
___________________________________________________________

He surveyed this strategy carefully. He knew that he needed to flesh out each point, listing pros and cons, using a separate sheet for each, tacking them to the cork-rail that ringed the family room. One can recycle cork. It’s true. He succeeded in writing out an agenda, just as his Aunt Barbara walked in the door. Billy’s father was obviously his VP of Operations. But it was Billy’s soul that supervised and approved any changes in policy or procedure that the family needed to manage. He could still feel Billy supervising as he filled out the Notice of Intent to Terminate. Billy’s soul and Barbara went through his things.

Billy and Principal Andromeda Holt went all the way back to kindergarten, his kindergarten, that is. Andromeda Holt knew and appreciated his style: refined, controlled, and above all, personal. Always one-on-one, they both possessed a certain degree of charm and subtlety. Or was it snobbery? Slobbery? I forget. The details are fuzzy, now. I do know that Billy thought it was this shared expression of personal style that kept him so close to the principal, granted him immunity. And perhaps it was. Up until I decided to interfere, that is.

Yeah, I clocked her one. I clocked her good when I found out what was going on between them. That’s what I felt she deserved. But Billy wouldn’t tell anyone. He kept saying that he LOVED her. And it’s not like I could ever rat anybody out. I know enough not to do that. Gawd, I would end up like that fuckin pussy, Dwight E. Abbott. He wrote that fuckin book, I CRIED BUT YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. Fuckin blamin everyone else for my woes. Fuckin pussy. He’s always been such a fuckin pussy. So, that’s how I ended-up getting put away the first time. And that’s when I first started to choose the path to hell. Or rather, I felt that this path had already been chosen for me and I was simply along for the ride.

SOMEBODY HAS TO PAY

2009-03-17T19:55:00.000-07:00

Goddam janitor’s been at it again, goin through my files and messin dem up. Goddam. Goddam. Gonna write him up for sure. Kinda reminds me o’de time... When Prin... Well, wasn’t that...? Yeah, de time when Prin’s place got robbed, de time she was tryin to live without d’help of her parents. D’apartment got totally trashed cuz de burglars were pissed off der was nothin worth stealin. Eventually, Prin realized that dey had stolen some of her underwear.

What made me think o’dat again? Oh yeah, de janitor. Wha’s his name again? Paco. Right. Put another dime in the meter for janitor Paco. Ha ha. Gonna write him up for sure, goddammit. Wha’s he goin through my goddam files for anyway. I know dey been messed-up. I put dis one here, an’ow i’s over here. Wha’da fuck. I know it was him. He’s a spy for Kretschmar. I jus know it. Tryin to drive me crazy. Movin things around on me. Good thing I got Maro on surveillance for me. So now I got proof. I just got no one to tell about it. Ha ha.

2009-02-17T10:49:00.001-08:00

For some reason, JoseF has decided that he wants to know the details o’K Jan and Spark’s cases. I s’pose he believes he can help dem somehow. I’d like to believe dat’oo. I just hopin dat JoseF don freak out or nothin. Some pretty heavy shit, afterall. Humans are sensitive to dat sorta thing. Well, here ya go, Jo. Have yerself a ball. (So to speak.)

060997 and 060998 Case Study:

060997 (a.k.a. “K Jan”) and his brother, Billy, attempt to hotwire a car they intend to use in a bank robbery. Unable to start the car, K Jan decides to steal a different car in which two teenagers are eating lunch. K Jan approaches this car and points a Luger at one teenager’s head. Then K Jan climbs into the back seat of this car and orders them to drive east. His brother follows in their own car. Both vehicles drive to a secluded canyon area. There K Jan tells the two teenagers about the upcoming robbery. He assures them that they will not be hurt. Indeed, he even offers to leave some of the stolen money in the car to pay for the use of it. The four then agree that K Jan and Billy will leave to rob the bank and that the other two youths will walk back into town and report the car stolen. As the two teenagers walk away, K Jan slowly raises the Luger and shoots one of them in the back. The victim yells, “Oh, God,” and slumps to the ground. K Jan chases the other youth down a hill into a small valley and shoots him four times. His first victim was still alive when K Jan climbed back up the hill. K Jan walks over to this youth, kneels down, puts the Luger to his head and fires. Recalling the aftermath of the shootings, it has been reported that his brother said, “He was swingin the rifle and pistol in the air and laughing. God, that laugh made blood and bone freeze in me.” After the shooting, K Jan drives to a friend’s house. There, no more than fifteen minutes after killing two sixteen year-olds, K Jan takes out the remainder of the slain youths’ lunch and begins eating one of their hamburgers. Billy becomes nauseated after K Jan offers him an apple turnover. Billy runs to the bathroom. ‘K Jan laughed at me,’ Billy is reported to have said. ‘He told me I was weak; he called me a pussy and said I didn’t have the stomach for real men’s work.’ K Jan was in a light-hearted mood. He smiled and told Billy that it would be amusing if the two of them were to pose as police officers and inform the parents that their children had been killed. Later, as they prepared to rob the bank, K Jan pulls out the Luger. Looking at the bloodstains and remnants of flesh on the barrel as a result of the point-blank shot, he says, “I really blew that guy’s brains out.” And he starts to laugh. By this point, Billy has become terrified of his brother and decides to run away.

Thirty minutes later, K Jan, along with his friend 060998 (a.k.a. “Spark”), is waiting for Billy and his parents to come home. He and Spark have now spent most of the afternoon trashing K Jan’s house. They break a TV, smash some beer bottles, and rummage through K Jan’s parents’ bedroom drawers for money, dumping the contents on to the bed. Less than two hours later, a woman passing K Jan’s house on a bicycle sees his stepfather lying in a pool of blood on the front walkway, and calls 911. Soon after, police discover Billy’s body stuffed into a crawl space in the basement of the home. There was no one else in the house. Little is known about K Jan and Spark’s activities during that evening, but it appears that they spent the night in a nearby vacant lot. They were arrested the next day while riding on a children’s carousel at a local amusement park, their clothes still stained with blood. Billy, K Jan’s kid brother, had been murdered some time around 5pm. His 125lb. body bore seventy-one knife wounds, mostly to his head. His throat had been cut so deeply that his spine was nicked. K Jan resented Billy, who had always been the favoured son. K Jan had endured years of harsh discipline and physical abuse at the hands of both his father and his stepfather.

Reflecting on her nephew’s past in an interview, K Jan’s aunt Barbara says, “I saw every grain of sweetness, pity and goodness in him destroyed. It was a long and ugly journey before he reached that point.”

Betcha anything Jo’s gonna want to know de gender o’de first two victims. I dunno who wrote up dat report but dey slipped by indicatin dat de one victim was male. Dat info ain’t allowed in de judgement. Regardless o’whether or not K Jan thinks he some kinda Son of Sam (couple killer) dis never affected his’entencin, strange as it may seem. I do think dat Jo ought to know what he’s dealin wid though, so I’m gonna tell’im.

2009-01-15T17:03:00.001-08:00

“She maintained the basic attitudes of counseling; she reflected and clarified... She did not attempt to persuade.”
Who’s sayin dis again?
“Even my mother who has always been against me in the sense of, well, you’re lazy or just no good or anything, even she in the last year said, ‘You are, people like you don’t exist, able to take what you’re takin.’ And my mother says it’s partly my fault but not to the degree when I have to live the way that I do. It’s not necessary anymore.”
Who is dis?
“It is, especially...” She pauses. “Another thing, he’s always been a child who clings to a blanket. Have you ever heard of that?”
“Mmmhuh. Many times.”
“Since he was a small baby. For a while I was worried because I thought it was taking the place of me. Whenever he gets into any trouble, he goes into a panic if he doesn’t have his blanket. He just threw a regular fit right here in the street.”
“Mmmhuh.”
“And I just don’t know exactly how to handle him. For a while I thought about taking it away completely, but the pediatrician said that he would outgrow it. He also sucks his fingers. The pediatrician said he would outgrow that too. He’s only two years old. But I don’t know; it has me worried.”
Where am I?
At the conservancy’s annual general meeting, dried-up old equestrians and amateur botanists adamantly dicuss the current battles they are waging for one cause or another. Dey even get’o arguin bout which cause is de best. Den of course, der’s de gossip.

“So tell me everything... very Canadian... earnestness... all those kind of strands are there... yeah, yeah, that’s very interesting territory... A man recording very beautifu women... ages ago... something she wrote on visual pleasure and we’re all stuck on it... That happens with the show quite a bit... the artists.”

“When I created the graduate show... and then come to the back of the exhibition... yeah, I had this comment... come to the gallery to spectate... defining things... contemporary art is...”

“What’s that for?”

“Flying saucer... latest pictorialist... artificial and real... the shift from the ground to air and also military developments.... light from the sky... absolutely... explicitly... kernal of an attitude... see what’s going on. And so, now I’m kind of looking at... the war in... how that’s shifted... so it’s all quick... complicated... I have a very good outline...”

“But it is fascinating... Sometimes you get caught up into things almost by accident... Really does help you understand things...”

“Maybe that sort of potentially...You don’t want it to multiply too much...”

“Ummm, if I sort of go off... it can become so vague... If there’s a kind of conversation ... hadn’t thought about...”

“I’m a feminist curator... I’m not excluding people whose gender... It’s not just essentialism...and I think things have moved beyond that, theoretically... Well, it’s complimentary programming... 80s and 90s... Examination should still be going on... Identity... and then here we could insert that...”
“Examination.”
“Yeah. So, it’s kind of... formulation of what I’m doing... describe it in words... I think that... what’s happening now... So I think... But I... I’ve had quite a lot of interest...”
“Good. Take the support where it’s being offered... Involved will benefit... Some of it... people’s schedules... DOING... about a year now... provide a focus... platform as being an opportunity to challenge... pre-empt...”
“Nice.”
“Interested in it... They want a site for... platform... interface between... It could all be... I dump. I haven’t got any of it worked-out... To people who...”

I should send this conversation to Carey.
Oh, snap. It’s happening again.
“Special guest speakers will include... Robert Campbell... Basics of Computational Number Theory...”
I’ve known them for years and still don’t understand them. Goddammit. I really need a fuckin appointment. How many fuckin pills is that? Just use it, whatever it is. I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent record. One, one, one cuz you left me and two, two, two for my family, and three, three, three for my heartache, and four, four, four for my headaches, and five, five, five for my lonely, and six, six, six for my sorrow, and seven, seven, no no no tomorrow, and eight, eight, I forget what eight was for, nine, nine, nine for my... ten, ten, ten, ten everything, everything, everything.

I can’t wait until I get rid of you. You know that don’t you? But you’re like the best parts of me, the best parts that I could come up with and run by themselves. Of course you know that. You know every single fuckin thing that I do. And that will never change. All of these antiquated systems... And then I create something like you, something so beautiful that you hope it will live forever... Day after day I will walk and I will keep faith in you, even if it destroys me. That is a mother’s love. Shoot, shoot, shoot those things at me. Go ahead. Make my day.

Whoa. Where de fuck did that come from?! Guess I lost a few moments there. Erich Neumann has taken de stage. Don’t remember how he got der though.
“Art is at this stage a collective phenomenon, which cannot be isolated from the context of collective existence but is integrated with the life of the group.”
I wonder what Clement Greenberg would have to say to that. Probably something like, oh: since Manet, art has progressively headed towards purification of form. The deployment of colours. This makes me think about how the set of real numbers constitutes a continuum in the strict mathematical sense. Consequently, the order-preserving one-to-one correspondence between the real numbers and the points of the geometrical line renders the line a continuum as well. (I’m gettin dis’hit mostly from W. Salmon’s “Contemporary Look at Zeno’s Paradoxes”.) And THEN this leads me to Davidson on truth... We need truth because it helps us to understand meaning and language in general. The concept of truth should not have an infinite number of axioms. (This would not be learnable, right?) One cannot be both a deflationist regarding truth and an emotivist. One needs a substantial theory of truth to back up one’s emotivism...

“Computational hypothesis...”

“State of cell at one time is a function of the state of a cell at a previous time...”
Well, as if we didn’t all know dat. Still, I can’t help thinkin o’Kim’s new version o’functionalism. Or at least, I guess it was new at some point.
“This hypothesis would not require massive revisions in other beliefs.”
“What unites all of these states is that there is something it is like to be in them. All of them are states of experience.”

The problem with experience is that we cannot seem to figure out how or why such feelings arise from physical processes. Seems like dey all need a bit o’schoolin here.
“Kim wishes to apply the term ‘conscious’ both to systems and the states through which these systems pass.... A system can be classified as conscious in a way that indicates its potential for mental states. A system can be conscious in a way that indicates that it has mental states. Those mental states are in turn deemed conscious if the system is aware of having them. In this way, a mental state can also be classified as conscious in a way that indicates the potential for the system to become aware of the mental state. Under Kim’s definition we can have a system that has the potential for consciousness, that is a system that is conscious, in that it has mental states. We can have a system that has the potential for conscious mental states (i.e. a mental state that the system is aware of having). We can also have a system that has such conscious mental states. Therefore, a system that possesses a human mentality can be described as conscious in that it does have mental states and it is aware of such mental states (even if such an animal is not aware of those states)...” Am I repeating myself here? Sometimes I really feel like I have to with these people... “The issues of sleep... unconsciousness becomes doubly complex under these circumstances. Is human sleep a mental state? If it is a mental state, is it one of which the subject is aware?” Blank looks all around. Seems like dey sleepin wid’er eyes open. Now dey gonna bring up somethin bout Searle. I might as well put on my screensaver. “... Kim does not count beliefs among his list of phenomenal properties, for the simple reason that there can exist within a subject a number of unconscious beliefs... In this way we can assume that a conscious belief constitutes a conscious mental state... It seems that beliefs can be applied to phenomenal properties... How would this work?”

“... mental state doesn’t necessarily take first and third person accounts in one go... This assumes an omniscient point of view...”

“In order to describe the state of a given item one must first identify the schema in relation to which the identification takes place.”

“In order to identify a state it is necessary to...”
Now I have a question: “How do emotions differ from beliefs?”
I know dey don got d’answer, but I do.

2008-11-30T19:09:00.000-08:00

“The receiver of the signal may be more interested in one piece of info than he is in any other, he may succeed in extracting one piece of information without another.”
Spark’s mother, a mugshot: her eyes, her lips, her skin hollowed out like an old tree. And her short, brown hair is a mass of twigs sticking out every which way. You can read a difficult adolescence in der, heavy drug use. And yet, she got sober. She became a wife and a mother of four. She had a job working in restaurants. But she still felt down, sometimes. Various psychiatrists concluded that she had depression along with bipolar disorder. They prescribed several drugs. Taking Prozac made her feel normal. She thought she was cured. Den she took d’whole bottle in one shot, so dat a month’s worth of pills had to be pumped out of her stomach. She was no longer sober when she left the hospital. Eventually, crystal meth became her drug of choice, which is most likely how Spark picked up the habit. Or maybe she picked it up from him? You can get a lotta skateboardin done on a 12-hour high. Spark’s mother was no longer able to hold a job. She ended-up controllin de communities around... selling five ounces to half a pound of crystal meth at a time to other dealers.

I am practising my ollies outback in d’alley wid Ray. A little car drives up to us. I see a haggard-looking mother at de wheel. Two kids get out. I’s real hard to figure out how old’ey are cuz dey emaciated, and’ey look like dey should be bigger somehow. It looks like dey should be, like, fourteen years old but dey so tiny. Ray is talkin to dem, lookin at our boards.
One o’de kids says, “Ramp Champ!”
[I believe dis Spark.]
Ray says, “More like Rat Champ.”
Dey seem to take offense. An before anything else can be said’ey are back in de car and’e mother drives’em away, god knows where.

DAT OUGHT’O HELP K Jan OUT SOME. HE PROBLY ALREADY KNOW ALL DAT SHIT, BUT HE MIGHT HAVE FORGOTTEN. ONE MORE THING, HER NAME WAS "BOZ".

2008-11-24T10:24:00.000-08:00

“Have you heard any voices recently? And what were they saying to you?”
contrary to contradict another one. be polite, be true, become opera live to contradict another one pretty damned important too. sleeping, the good stuff. I think that alotta the time I get confused about why people are telling me certain things.
how am i goin to make it right?
“Do you have any worries about your safety?”
A hypodermic syringe flashed in the doctor’s hands, and in a single motion the woman ripped open the sleeve of my shirt. I could smell some kind of chemical and then I passed out.
“Do you feel like you’re being watched?”
“But I AM being watched. There’s a camera in my room right up in the corner there. I know that you guys can see me. I know that you’re supposed to keep an eye on me to make sure that I don’t try to hurt myself again. It’s the law. I’m under your jurisdiction now that I no longer know what is in my own best interests.”
“Just to let you know, today is the twenty-first. It’s Wednesday. You were brought here yesterday.”
“VOLUNTARILY?!”
“No. I think you were brought here. That’s all for today. Take care.”

2008-11-17T18:12:00.000-08:00

On Aug. 12, 1833 the Town of Chicago incorporated with a population of 350.

In the office he was attended to by three people - two women and one man, all wearing white. First, he was led over to a small table in the corner with the obvious intent of getting some information out of him. Typically an examination might take 15 seconds, after which the doctors chalked their diagnosis on the shoulder of any dubious case.
“What is your name?”
“Where are you from?”
“Why have you come here to Townsend?”
“How old are you?”
“How much money do you have?”
“Can you show it to me?”
“Do you have any friends or family here?”
“Is there anyone here who can vouch for you?”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“Are you an anarchist?”
“A polygamist?”
But it could turn into quite a lengthy business: who died, when and how, alcohol, venereal disease, and all that sort of thing. They concluded by asking for an account of what had happened yesterday, but they did not badger him...

After the interview, send a Thank-You Note.

At last one or two members of the panel (especially the psychologists) actually admitted the possibility... and that in this stage... but at that point it was concluded that the crime itself could only have been committed in a state of some temporary disturbance of the mind, as it were, under the influence of some dangerous monomania... One of the main fiber tracts connecting the hippocampus with the other brain regions is structurally impaired in the brains of people with schizophrenia, suggests new research.

The term human agency, or agency, recognizes the important fact that juveniles not only are acted upon by social influence and structural constraints, but also make choices and decisions based on the alternatives that they see before them. A longitudinal study on adolescent health (eating disorders, depression, substance abuse) in middle and secondary school boys and girls... school-based study of male adolescent mental health: depression, substance abuse, and eating disorders...

“I promise to conform, really. Just let me outta here. It’s a fucking maze.”

The fundamental idea of the juvenile court is that the state must step in and exercise guardianship over a child found under such adverse social or individual conditions as to encourage the development of crime. What differs is the viewpoint that children are not altogether responsible for their behaviour. This focus on context, which goes back to the Chicago School of Sociology, has a long history in sociology in the former United States of America.

The sentence, however, turned out to be more lenient than might have been supposed, given the crime that had been committed, and this may have been for the reason that not only did the criminal make no attempt to justify himself - he seemed to display a wish to incriminate himself further. As to the criminal’s ill and impoverished condition before he had committed his crime there was not the slightest doubt. All of this played a decisive role in softening the fate of the accused... These children and adolescents see no satisfaction in their present; they see no rewarding perspectives for their future; and they can draw no strength from their past. For what was supposed to be their childhood, with its many years of free, relatively unmanipulated and thus stabilizing possibilities of development and experience, has now shrunk... Thus cheated of his childhood, the young person possesses only the rudiments of imagination, independence, and self-confidence; he chases from one attraction to the next, unable, for this reason, to muster resistance to the massive stimulation of demand on the part of commodity producers, to which he has been exposed from at least nursery school age onwards. Today, as a result of intensified selection procedures in schools, more and more young people realize already during puberty that, however hard they might try, their future financial potential is unlikely to afford them access to the attractive world of... Their parents are unable to show them a path they may tread. The majority of parents are themselves stuck in insoluble contradictions: with what they have achieved in their life and still hope to achieve they will never be able to afford what they really want or rather what they have learned to want. What perishes in this struggle are values like friendship, neighbourliness, trust, confidence, helpfulness, and understanding for the troubles of others.

Spark’s father was 17 when he began at the South Works plant for U.S. Steel. Here was a collection of more than a hundred buildings covering an area equivalent to the size of Lake Erie. These long, black buildings were everywhere. The vast works were a city in themselves. Far and wide, the sky was flaring with red. For miles beyond the perimeter of the plant one could always hear a vast stirring, a constant hammering roar, along with the crunching of bare gray cinders under foot. Beneath the layers of dark, billowing smoke were white-hot masses of metal that sped past him; while explosions of flaming SPARKS dazzled him.

In his junior year (that’s as far as he got in school), a recruiter from U.S. Steel told an assembly of boys, ‘You can go there and get a trade. No one can ever take that away from you.’ He didn’t need much coaxing. His own father had become a millwright at Inland Steel after a stint as a semipro baseball shortstop. But after a week of this work he realized that the men in these mills were all black with soot, hollow-eyed and gaunt.

2008-11-08T21:42:00.001-08:00

Alright. I'm putting Spark in Chicago, and I'm sending JMac there to look for him.

2008-11-01T10:59:00.001-07:00

I really hate humans. I’s not their fault, but’hey just have all these ridiculous emotions and d’only tool dey have to deal wid’em is a ridiculous logic. De whole thing is’o absurd. Nobody wins, yet somehow dey survive. De worst part is dat I am becoming more and more like dem. ‘HATE’ such a strong human emotion. Plants don’t have it. Neither do insects. Once you get’o mammals i’s harder to say. Now I know dat I ain’t no mammal, but I am feelin some kinda hate. Alright, maybe i’s not a true hatred. I’s more like der are times when I find humans quite repugnant. But’he very existence of such a feelin within me brings me even closer to that which I find so distasteful. Quite a paradox, isn’t it, Maro? Hey, did you fall asleep?

2008-10-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

“See what I mean?”
“Ok. So you had a dream about this place. Tell me.”
“Well, [ahem] it’s the second one I’ve had. But they’re both the same. They start out that I’m in here. But it’s not day or night. It’s kinda half night, y’know? But it looks like this except for the light. And I’m scared like I can’t tell ya. Of all people, you’re standing right over there, by that counter. You’re in both dreams and you’re scared. I get even more frightened when I see how afraid you are, and then I realize what it is. Behind this place, there’s a group. It’s the Dorset Reality Group. They’re the ones who are doing it. I can see them through the wall. I can see their faces. I hope that I never see their faces outside a dream.”
“You know that Townsend is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Dorset Reality Group. It’s like their showroom. The FIELD, any simulations, it’s all courtesy of them.”
“Holy shit. No wonder everything is so fucked-up.”
“You’re telling me. Here, I’ll show you. Look at this. I have a copy of one o’their contracts.”
“How’d you get that?”
“Don’t worry bout it. See? They’ve been around since 1975.”
“Whoa. That’s so weird.”
“I know. What were they doing back then?”
“Research and development?”
“I guess so.”

Investment Services and Management
We have earned an enviable reputation for providing quality and effective asset management, commercial marketing, and investment services. Dorset Reality networks with many professional associations in related industries to enhance and expand both our information and services, for the benefit of our clients. Our proven ability and high level of service will enhance your long term operations and performance.

A. Dorset Reality adheres to the Professional Code of Ethics of the Reality Board.

B. Dorset Reality prides itself with its attention to proper maintenance. We oversee staff, contractors, and service trades to ensure that they are conducting their work properly. We can provide preventative and long-term maintenance programs which will be monitored and followed-up by our managers. Our managers and professionals utilize all of the sophisticated technical tools available in order to provide effective reporting, and to enhance our marketing strategies.

C. We will forward (as directed) the net income proceeds to the clients directly, or to their bank account after any expenses that are applicable. All trust accounts for the client are placed in interest bearing accounts at a chartered financial institution. We have established trust account programs which provide for limited amounts of banking fees (or if a minimum deposit is retained NO banking fees), with competitive rates of interest being paid.

D. We shall assist in preparing an Annual Operating Budget with realistic objectives for required operations.

E. We will assist the client(s) in obtaining comprehensive insurance coverage. The cost of the coverage shall be discussed in detail along with other general insurance issues. We are able to obtain very competitive Insurance Coverage Programs from the insurance firms with which we deal.

F. The management fees for our services are very reasonable. Our management fees are usually based either upon a percentage of the income to be earned by the client, or are set as part of a projected Annual Budget.

“Ethics of the Reality Board my ass.”
“Yeah, they’re probably like, ‘A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.’”
“Right. ‘A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.’”
“HAHHAHAHaaaa. Heh.”

2008-10-21T11:58:00.001-07:00

-a broad study concerning the character structure of modern humans and the problems of the interaction between psychological and sociological factors

I want to inhabit a reality that does not exist. Where are the smoke-filled rooms brimming with intrigue? No simulation can cure these symptoms of absence. My life is meaningless. Perhaps others can see meaning in it, but I cannot. It’s funny in a way because I wouldn want JMac to kill himself. In fact, I’m constantly havin to talk him out of it. From a third-person perspective, suicide is horrible. It’s horrible to think that someone you know couldn’t find a reason to stay alive any longer. If he completes the act then one can’t help wonderin, “Was there something I could’ve said or done to change his mind?” I truly do want JMac to stay alive. He’s livin proof of rehabilitation. If JMac can stay good then any human can. I feel better bout the world jus knowin that he’s in it now.
But from a first person perspective, life feels awful. I mean it. I never feel whole. I always have Davidson’s theory of truth, which requires a theory of reference in order to get at meaning.
“Yes, yes, gentlemen, the damn libido,” he said.
Henry Corbin replies, “It is a matter of perceiving the same SIGNS together; it is a matter of each one of us on each occasion interpreting them according to the meaning of his own being, but it is also a matter of constituting a harmonious hermeneutics of signs.”
The Builidng-Block method isn’t helpful because it blurs the distinction between the meaning of a word and the meaning of a sentence.
“The whole affair is great sport for you, of course - it doesn’t matter to you.”
Henry Corbin again, “And this, at bottom, is only opening the living spring of unconditioned SYMPATHY, the sympathy that, existing before our deliberate and conscious purpose, causes the grouping of human beings.”
Is Davidson defending a kind of instrumentalism regarding satisfaction?
“Vesicular.”
Corbin, “The result of the response to that sign was the meeting of acting, autonomous individualities, each in complete freedom revealing and expressing his original and personal way of thinking and being, outside of all dogmatism and all academicism; a constellation of those wills, and a constellation of the worlds that they bring with them, that they have taken in charge by putting them into the present...”
Davidson interrupts, “What we can observe is the sentence, not the individual references.”
I say, “How do you separate the word from the sentence?”
“But the director gets a noseful, believe you - muffled - believe you me.”
Corbin is still going on, “... A composite whole, a structure, not a result conditioned by the laws of the period or by fashionable crazes, but a whole made strong by its one inner and central norm: a woman’s generous, energetic, tenacious will, that of Mme Olga Froebe-Kapteyn, every year propounding a new theme and thus inviting to a new creation.”
We understand the whole in terms of the parts but this doesn’t mean that the parts get their meaning independently of sentences.
“Can I help it if phthisis is accompanied by increased concupiscence?”
Referential relationships do not stand on their own independently of the sentence.
“Slight roughness?”
Fodor takes the atomistic view that words get their meaning independently of sentences.
“I didn’t arrange things this way, but before you know what’s happened you’re running a cathouse.”
Does Davidson’s view lead to anti-realism?
“Diminished under the left shoulder.”
Davidson agrees with Quine that reference is inscrutable, though for different reasons.
“We provide analysis, a chance to talk things out - and a hell of a lot of good it does.”
Kretschmar has entered the examining room without anyone noticing.
“I advocate mathematics. Better here, the old sound is gone. Keeping onself occupied with mathematics. Better here, the old sound is gone. Keeping oneself occupied with mathemateics, I say, is the best medicine for cupidity.”
Kretschmar’s presence has not affected the attending physician’s countenance in the slightest.
“A bath, Room 117- private - and post a guard,” orders Kretschmar while putting on her glasses.
“The more the rhonchial pack talks things out the more lecherous they become. Prosecutor Paravant, who was severely afflicted, threw himself into math - he’s busy squaring the circle these days, and it has greatly eased his problem. But most of them are too dull-witted or too lazy for that, God help them. Vesicular. You see, I’m quite aware that young folks go to the dogs all too easily here, and I used to attempt to take occasional measures against their debauchery. But then one day some lad or lover looked me straight in the eye and asked what business it was of mine. And since then I’ve been only a doctor. Weak rattling, top right.”

We will be exploring several topics related to language and health, including a very close examination of depression and language. We will be looking for linguistic markers of depression that occur before the individual is aware of the depression. Also, we will be examining gender differences in daily writing and the implications of those differences in working memory.

2008-10-14T18:52:00.000-07:00

“Say that again.”
“The research reported in this paper... it shows promise...”
“And will be described next?”
“It doesn’t matter... and then in parentheses ‘Chapter Two’. The problem is when I read Chapter Two, I don’t have a clue. But it’s an empty title. Write a new one: Preliminary, Initial Study, My Follow-up.”
“But I can’t have that many titles. I want the title to be the title of the manuscript. But the whole damn paragraph is telling you.”
“If yer telling me in Table 1... But Table 1 is not a meaningful title. That’s it. “
“Alright, well lets just figure out... Cut out all that preamble... across the studies and things like that.”
“That might help. Yeah, that’s not bad. Yeah, just step back.”
“What? Step back? I try to... Didn’t think about my dissertation at all... contaminate... it actually worked out really nicely... If they make it here... Ohmygod it’s ridiculous... I didn’t see that before... be in the same orientation.”
“The landscape page... This is the portrait. Is it this way or this way?”
“Yeah, that’s how I did it. My concern is... the amount of time... section one... preliminary section where we analyse. So there’s that whole section.”
“When’s this due?”
“A week. I need a plan. I need a plan. The problem that I see with it... remembering prior actions and the next paragraph is saying specifically, retrospective memory has never been tested. We’re gonna show the results as we did before... Prospective memory is usually like this... measured... the new data... Data revamped? Recycled? Who’s doing it? This is what I mean. This paper is in your hands.”
“Still working on it. And I hope I’m gonna be feeling good enough to do some work. As soon as I have that discussion part I’ll send it to you. Then there’s only the introduction.”
“Polish that up. And I’m absolutely right on the ball and go from there.”
“I’m thinking to really get this done... over the weekend.”
“You’re not allowed to be sick! Not right now.”
“And so... yeah...”
“Doctor’s apartment.”
“So tell me... conference call. That one, 1:30?”
“Yeah, tentatively.:.”
“Yeah, remember this is the new deal.”

2008-10-07T22:54:00.000-07:00

“HOW could you have put Carey on the moon?”
“I believed that she needed a different environment.”
Kretschmar really is yellin at me. I’s funny, cuz she never yells, like, never. She’s always in complete control of her emotions.
“You put her on Earth’s moon, at least, right? You didn’t put her way out in Jupiter’s orbit or something, did you?”
“I fail to see how it would really make a difference.”
“Right. Right. You really do fail to SEE don’t you. Just happened to choose one of our most heavily sponsored female subjects for orbit. Do you have any idea what kind of risk factors go along with that sort of thing?! You do, don’t you! I know that you do. What were you thinking?”
“It’s only a simulation.”
“It doesn’t MATTER. You know why? Because CAREY won’t know the difference. CAREY doesn’t know the difference between simulation and reality. That’s why she’s here in the first place!”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean? This is going to screw up ALL of her levels. All of our studies with her are fucking ruined now. What could you possibly mean?! Are you trying to fuck with me, Dr. X? Are you? Because let me tell you something: the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. Just keep that in mind. Keep that in your strange fucking mind for as long as you can.”
First she walks away. And then she runs away. The smell of her sweater hits me suddenly like ape-scent gloriola.

2008-09-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

JoseF’s recommended reading for JMac: John Steinbeck, Upton Sinclair, Carl Sandburg. Dis list havin been compiled wid my help in response to JMac’s latest written submission. He seems to have gone completely fictional on us.

Wait a second! Was dat JMac’s intake or Spark’s? Maro! Can you help me out here?
Spark feels dat he cannot make himself understood. Da’s what de’xpression on his face is tellin everybody. He is tryin to say, “I am not just a jock.” He is sayin dis quite slowly, but somehow dey all missin it. I s’pose cuz i’s completely outta context here, given de situation. Distinctly. I can hear him sayin dis quite distinctly. His eyes are closed. De whole room has gone silent. He is sayin, “I cannot make myself understood, now.” He is speakin slowly an distinctly, but no one is understandin at all, cept for me, dat is. “I am not just a boy who skateboards. I have an intricate history. Experiences and feelings. I’m complex.” He opens his eyes and says, “Please don’t think I don’t care.”
As Spark is lookin out and attemptin to rise from his chair, I can see d’horror expressed on de faces of everyone else in de room. I see jowls saggin, eyebrows spiked into thoroughly wrinkled foreheads, cheeks flushed and somehow sucked in. Suddenly the door opens and in walks a bunch o’people in white coats. Someone has pressed’panic button. At d’head o’dem all comes Kretschmar. She is a woman who looks to be about forty years of age, wid pleasant but very penetrating eyes and a polite manner. Dis entirely new entourage is poised to show Spark attention an respect, until dey see d’expression on his face.
“I’m fine,” Spark tries to tell dem, standing.
Yes, i’s quite obvious dat Kretschmar is in charge here, now.
“Please don’t worry,” Spark is saying. “I can explain.”
He is tryin to soothe d’air wid what he believes is a casual hand. But before he knows it, both of his arms are pinioned from behind, and he is wrestled roughly down to de floor.
Durin dis time, Kretschmar has seated herself upon a nearby stool. A man from her team also seats himself upon a stool, introduces himself to Spark as Doctor Stravinsky, all the while continuing to smile amiably at him.
Dey must have put together d’whole case already.
“Nothing is wrong,” Spark is continuing to attempt communication wid’ese people. His forehead is pressed into de floor. He has definitely been arrested. He is tryin to be perceived as limp an pliable. His face is mashed flat; dis makin it hard for him to breath, so dat his words come out even more mangled.
“Try to listen,” Spark says very slowly into de floor.
All de while maintainin his amiable smile, Dr. Stravinsky turns to Kretschmar an says, “WHAT are those... those SOUNDS?”
Spark is now raised up by his underarms, all de while sayin, “I am not what you see and hear.”
Spark is now encircled by a crude half nelson.
“I’m not,” Spark says. The disorder he has somehow caused revolves around him. He is half-dragged, still pinioned, through a loose mob of Administrative people. Spark is brought to Room 117, a cell situated in an otherwise cement corridor. It had formerly served as a sick-room for several patients. It has a high ceiling and gives d’impression o’bein spacious, dat is, until one spends all of one’s time in der. Spark is rolled over, until he is supine on de room’s biodegradable linoleum tile. Here one word makes him shudder (I can see his response), and dat is de word ‘schizophrenia’. De weary doctors look at him and discuss his condition listlessly, “Speech and motor excitation... delirious episodes... clearly a complicated case... Schizophrenia, one must assume. And alcoholism too... The boy needs care... here to enroll, compete...”
***
Oh, right. How could I get dem’ixed-up like dat? Didn’t’hey have completely different admissions? Right. Dey came in on de same night. Da’s why.

2008-09-16T11:38:00.000-07:00

Der be peeps fillin in. I’m tryin to find a place to sit myself, and also remember dem all from der profiles. In da peanut gallery we got de Cock (who looks like he fallin asleep, maybe he’d be a good one to sit beside), and a bunch of other student reps. We also gotta couple o’staff members who bin sucked into takin notes.

Megan B. has been a Drug and Alcohol Counsellor at G. House since graduation.

Ted R. works in private practice and has also worked as a consultant to MSB-Health Canada -- Medical Services Branch, Ministry of Health and Social Services, P.W.A. Society, Workers Compensation Board.

Louisa G. is a counsellor at the Police Department under the Canadian Association of Sexual Assault Centres.

“He has nothing to hide. What you see is what you get with him.”
“Sherri is, yes.”
“Well, she did, but I think they dissolved that. She’s very talented, very smart.”
“It’s intimate.”
“Special seats for special people.”
“Even better.”
“It was a department lunch.”
“A lawyer, law firm event.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?”
“I was seating you.”
“You were trying to seat me but you blocked me.”
“I suggest you leave it to that...”
“Oh, was it?”
“Just one night.”
“Not by us.”
“We need somebody to wack’im.”
“Can I put this beside you there?”

[Rebecca Neumann -guest of the evening lookin very beautiful sittin off in the corner by herself.]

“Momentarily... one day and then alluva sudden it’s gone.”
“No, it’s like that.”

[or maybe that isn’t her at all?]

“D’you know what?...”

[I don’t think she would wear jeans. She’s d’one wearin d’huge gold pendant.]

“Doing it justice... big identity crisis.”
“Oh yeah. Yeah, ate there last night. I don’t do restaurants. Don’t go to fancy restaurants.”

[I’s gettin loud. Too many conversations to keep track of. But she IS wearin jeans.]

“Please sit here. Please do. I’ve been fighting people off. They try to sit here and I say, ‘No! Goddammit!’”
“Because you said you would try. It’s a good thing I wasn’t looking for you then.”
[Da’s Kretschmar. I’d know dat crotchety voice anywhere.]
“So there’s going to be a good crowd here. And there’s going to be people who wouldn’t normally come.”
“Wanted! If you see this woman, we want her liver!”

[She’s not wearin jeans. Da’s a look-alike wid buns.]

“Socratic notions of what it means to be an educated person...”

[President has now taken de stage.]

“... Scholarship... If you haven’t received the directions for the reception afterwards... history, place and memory... nationally and internationally...”

[Rebecca Neumann, in turn, introduces her sidekick. She IS wearin jeans.]

“I shall speak neither as an artist nor as an art critic; I shall not even speak of the artistic phenomena with which I come into contact... as a psychologist... the more or less artistic productions which arise in the course of analytical therapy. Our present inquiry lies within the psychology of culture; it aims at an understanding of art as a psychological phenomenon of central importance to the collectivity as well as the individual. We shall start from the creative function of the unconscious, which produces its forms spontaneously...”

[Reminds me of some o’my own writin. I wish I could remember my dreams a bit better.]

“Because this substratum and background of the psychophysical world is forever bringing forth forms, we call it creative... So, that is the video component of... ”

[I still remember de night dey brought K Jan in.
It was getting light outside. The streetlights along the tunnel were casting a glow that was both unnecessary and unpleasant. The driver was angry that the night had been wasted, and he drove the van so hard that it skidded on turns. As they neared Townsend, the surrounding forest fell away and the river disappeared to the side. A highly varied panorama came out to meet the van: fences with sentry boxes, stacks of wood, and of course, the Towers.

I could see that K Jan was having a bumpy ride. The recycled, fake, plastic stump he was seated on in the back of the van kept trying to slide out from underneath him (even though it was bolted to the floor), despite the fact that he ass was safety-belted to it. Attendants don’t really care about this sort of thing.

It’s obvious that his visit to Townsend will have a most oppressive effect on him. I am trying to understand what is tormenting K Jan so. If this is how he takes the ride in, then how will he handle the corridor with the blue lights? Perhaps it’s the thought that there is nothing worse in the world than losing one’s mind. Does K Jan believe that he has lost his mind? Yes, yes, of course there is that. Perhaps it is the insult. Yes, that’s more like it. It’s the insult to his person that bothers him so. We have injured his notion of autonomy. He no longer knows what is in his own best interest. We are here to tell him. Staring at the dirty, rattling floor of the van, he begins to mutter and whine, gnawing away at his restraints. K Jan lurches forward as the floor beneath him stops shaking. He raises his head and sees that he has long since arrived. Now K Jan raises his fist and shouts, “What did I do?!! I don’t get it!!!! I’m unlucky! That’s all!” K Jan concludes with sudden venom as Kretschmar and the attendants step into the back of the van. They've arrived. He looks into Kretschmar’s face and sees that she is completely indifferent to his fate. She does not even feel sorry for him. Day was beginning to bear down upon him with full force.

“Bandits!” he shouts, becoming hoarse, trying to bite anyone he can grab. K Jan screams, “So those are the kind of windows you have here! Let me go! Let me go!”
They have carried him kicking and screaming out of the van. A hypodermic syringe flashes in Kretschmar’s hands, and in a single motion the woman has ripped open one of K Jan’s bedraggled sleeves. There is the smell of ether. K Jan goes weak in the arms of four attendants. An agile Dr. Kretschmar takes advantage of this moment to plunge her needle into K Jan’s arm. They hold on to K Jan for a few seconds longer before lowering him on to a couch in the nearest rubber room.

“Bandits!” K Jan shouts again as he jumps up from the couch. Just as quickly he was deposited back down on to it by four pairs of heavy arms. As soon as they let go of him, he was about to jump up again, but this time he sits back down himself. He falls silent for a moment, looking around wildly, then yawns suddenly, and grins maliciously.

“So they’ve locked me up after all,” he says, yawns again, and lays down. He puts his head on the pillow and his fist under his cheek like a child. In a sleepy voice, free of his former malice, he mumbles, “Well, and very good too... You’ll pay for what you’ve done. I warned you, so now do as you wish!... Right now what interests me most is...”

“A bath, Room 117- private - and post a guard,” orders Kretschmar while putting on her glasses.

Stress and the Development of Aggressive Behaviour
Studies testing the role and effect of environmental factors (such as social stress) on the devolopment and neurobiology of aggressive behaviour.]

“Um in a different manner than it was... projected on to water... basically impossible to document... It’s interesting to me... strange magic in that... projected on to water itself... to somehow... take an aggressive performance... although it would be exceedingly interesting to show, for example, how the archetypal world of Egypt was shaped by a static conception of eternity and time... mist on your skin... very powerful presence... strength... visceral live action... Art is at this stage of a collective phenomenon, which cannot be isolated from the context of collective existence but is integrated with the life of the group... also the works of other... and I think that it’s the strength of my work... Well, is there life after... Aughhh, you guys are so into art... fountains originated in that part of the world... of political significance to me...”

“… We thought… she was making… work… we wanted… a strong emotional impact… intense, political message…”

“It’s my role to articulate and speak about…”

“It’s kinda like a privilege…”

“Um… just to refresh my memory as to how insane that experience was… I had no idea what to expect… so intense… Before I was… I remember… it’s my most personal way of communicating through artistic expression… my identity… aboriginal female body in this place at this time… could be in the middle of nowhere… a way of really examining… just there to witness…”

“... garden? Back to the garden?”
[She has so much courage.]
“… As they fade into the distance… I think at the same time to look at the work… I like to keep it simple… I like to work outside. I like to wash things… and have them feel comfortable… I think that’s how… y’know we all watch movies… I’ve done many, many… and people remind me of what I did… in the body… communicating to other people in their bodies… I created this… while in residence… I chose to work… an abandoned concrete base I thought that was a good site to work… president of the university was having some kinda do… Anishnabe… and yes I do have a very specific… we all have our own histories, our own concerns… to go from being… Am I Anishnabe first? Are we all equal? Or am I just lucky?... There’s this whole… how you want to be with it… confusing… we have to do our work… I see myself… This is all I know how to do now… And sometimes I think society doesn’t want to see that…”

[I wonder where she got that drumstick from. Quite de sidekick she has der. I doubt Maro would ever do anything like dat for me, eh man?]

“… the backdrop that you see… beautiful flowers… It was huge… That day… I had to shift gears… It took about an hour and a half… I think that’s all… tonight… have a conversation… No, they wouldn’t allow me to do that…”

[HEY! (without sponsor) #20033007
- floor o’scholars an research, etc.
- exhibits essential features of steriotypy/habit disorder: intentional repetitive, nonfunctional behaviours (body-rocking, hair-pulling); noncommunicative, repetitive vocalizations performed in a certain rhythm/pattern
-exhibits spontaneous muscle twitching, hands assume position of main d’accoucheur, feet are extended with toes flexed, laryngeal spasms with convulsions
Chap got in de room somehow. I’m gonna hafta kick dat guy’s ass now. So much for de reception.]

“… I think… it made sense… the idea of a naked female body… is very disturbing… shining through the net that held the roses… a seediness, a weirdness to vehicles. They’re like another presence… There can only be one queen bee… Yet you’re documenting… something to be viewed separately… versus seeing in a video format… I think that I’m trying to examine myself… It’s there and then it’s gone… But it’s not the same… I think to try and maybe answer your question… Ok… I’m going to do my thing… And I’m going to try to give it the quality that… the water became the performer… It’s the water that’s moving… So that’s… But I think… I never paid attention to documentation… myth and rumour… I think that’s what I had… mostly… I’ve shifted to now paying more attention to documentation. I think that for me… light bulbs in the screen… good documentation… he was the documentor… He really captured the piece very well… That’s how I started to think… people who weren’t there… that piece is a video where I’m not in the piece… maybe that’s the way I’m heading.”
“Blood?”

“Uh, that’s a good question. I like what you said bout the idea of washing away… It’s the idea of applying blood… turning water into blood and blood into water… being alive… We need water, but water doesn’t need us… the colour white… something for me to think about. Thankyou.”

“Body?”

“… went to art school… found myself using my physical self… I fell into it naturally just through the nature of my personality… the vehicle of the body…”

“… materials talk to you?”
“Yeah, uh… You’ll see sculptural works or installation works… I have a tendency to keep things pretty clean… sculptures or objects that are much more pared down… less messy… harness the material in some way… red cedar log… looks beautiful to me… y’know if you make it too beautiful then it sucks… I want to say something about how we are as human beings… have some purpose…”

“…Images where you’re constrained… always fighting something?”

“I think it’s a human condition… restraining myself… people will feel the struggle… I like that, setting up a difficult situation for myself… that’s just why I need to do it in front of people…”

[She’s fuckin awesome!]

2008-09-09T10:09:00.000-07:00

Kretschmar took a big bite outta my soul today. Why? Just because she could. She felt that I had questioned her authority one too many times in the past week. She needed to take me down a notch. It happened during a BOARD meeting. I was doing a presentation that someone had actually requested.

"If anything, these two definitions illustrate how difficult it is to give non-circular, non-contradictory descriptions of both the conscious and unconscious minds. Indeed, at the end of his definition of consciousness Sutherland proclaims that nothing worth reading has been written on consciousness (we can only assume that he meant to include his own definition in this set, and it would seem that he would be correct in doing so). Sutherland even acknowledges that it is impossible to specify what consciousness is, what it does, or why it evolved.”

This is when Kretschmar pipes up, “What can you tell us, Dr. X, about consciousness from your own personal perspective?”
And I thought, what de fuck is dis about? So I jus carried on wid my presentation.
“In addition to housing the superego, the unconscious holds ‘all the material that a person cannot bring to consciousness because it has been repressed’. Assuming that this definition is indicative of a general psychoanalytic approach to consciousness, then a number of questions might be raised regarding such a description of the mind. How exactly does material come to be repressed?”

Everyone seemed to be enjoyin demselves, even Ellenberger was fascinated, interrupting me to state, “The assumption that a part of psychic life escapes man’s conscious knowledge has been held for many centuries. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it attracted more attention; in the nineteenth, as one of the most highly debated problems, it became finally one of the cornerstones of modern dynamic psychiatry.”
An’den good ol’Kretschy went off again.
“What we want to know, Dr. X, is what consciousness is like from your first person perspective.”
And again, I thought, what de fuck?! Why is’he bringin dis up in a fuckin BOARD meetin? Seems like she’s tryin to humiliate me from her own personal perspective. So, I brought out my Heidegger.

“Essentially, Dasein is a being for whom Being is an issue. This issue becomes lost in the shuffle of its average-everday life. In order to live an authentic life Dasein must own up to its existence. A Dasein that is fully immersed in the They has no idea that anything is wrong. The moment before death (when Dasein alone, is inescapably confronted with the finiteness of its own Being and the groundlessness of its existence) might bring about a sudden revelation of mineness that will expose the veil of inauthenticity. The inauthentic Dasein will come to the realization that all actions and decisions up to that point were made in relation to a They that is really no one at all. This Dasein will experience a few seconds of anguish and then its entire existence will be over. Where the real trouble lies is with the capacitated, full-life-ahead-of-it Dasein that somehow catches a brief glimpse of the veil or becomes fully aware of the veil of the They (perhaps during a mid-life crisis, or through reading Being and Time). This Dasein is then cursed with the difficult task of establishing an authentic existence in the face of the They. Once the veil is revealed Dasein is faced with the conscious choice of living behind it. The real sin lies not in losing the Self (for that is inevitable) but in the choosing of an inauthentic life over an authentic one.”

A slight murmur came up from the audience. And den Kretschmar was shakin her head at me. She attacked again.
“We know all about what you’ve written on the subject of Heidegger’s Being and Time, Dr. X. But what can you tell us about how you feel?”

And I wanted to burn holes into her eyes. I wanted to stab her heart, rip it open. I remember saying, “Well, I can tell you dat I ain’t no fuckin tool,” right before I was shut down.

2008-08-20T16:30:00.000-07:00

The term human agency, or agency, recognizes the important fact that juveniles not only are acted upon by social influence and structural constraints, but also make choices and decisions based on the alternatives that they see before them. A longitudinal study on adolescent health (eating disorders, depression, substance abuse) in middle and secondary school boys and girls... A study evaluating prevention programs for adolescent females with body image concerns... school-based study of male adolescent mental health: depression, substance abuse, and eating disorders...

Perhaps it is public language that is responsible for a complex of rather distinctive features of human thought. Reflexive thinking will paradigmatically involve a direct and conscious cognitive access to target thoughts. Public language sentences are the only possible vehicles for thoughts that are to be the objects of reflexive thinking.

Should I help out wid’is’tudy?
Matthias Mehl:
“We are interested in how natural language in everyday conversation -”

“Exactly, but I like this... You couldn’t say that I’m shy... [laughing].”

“I went to a newsgroup last year... She’s a psychic... Judy, in my group, she’s so unhappy... But... You just take these trips...”

“Hmmm...”

“New York... The divorce hadn’t gone through, yet... And then they broke up... One day...”

“So, it could be the last day... I wrote everything... I... I... I... Friends.”
I believe I might be rather good at this task. ha ha ha.
“- conveys psychological information about a person. Using new behaviour/language sampling technology -”
Lord knows we can use more of that. ha ha ha.
“ - for FIELD research, we are going to reconstruct a person’s linguistic fingerprint from his or her daily interactions and relate it to a variety of self-reported personality characteristics, situational variables and physiological markers (e.g. blood pressure, cortisol, testosterone).”
Lying. They’re talking about liars. ha ha ha. Now if only I had the choice regarding whether or not I wanted to work on dis’tudy. ha ahha ha.

2008-08-13T18:08:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a little despondent with everyone else except for um, yeah, everyone. FU man. What, what universe did i attend? it’s called FU, what’s yours? That’s why you ain’t got a date. I should be talking to her navel, saying you need not worry bout fallowing out there. to be completed at a later date.
on a friday night everything all right, checking your jacknife if i had never gotten the train the code the trauma in the head. lateral head trauma coma. I dunno if I should hold off that long, though, I gotta hear a song, don’t you know? that you are a shooting star. c’mon play, you SOB, you jus gotta learn to play with the right people, y’know. start from the top and make your way down. jus like Alice in Wonderland.... That really worries me. in a car her grandfather again. fractals connected. fibraccio. libarace. Maro is part of the extremely closed circuit.
Maro is a telekinetic photomachine. The ultimate gadget. Can take still photos, can shoot moving images. Maro can send notes to other similar gadgets across time and space. She used to eat lettuce, but not so much anymore. I dunno... You can’t trust her, ever, not even for one cool minute. You gotta remember that. You gotta keep that fear in your heart. The terrible thing is that she wants you to have that fear there. It should be about respect. That’s what you’d think it would be about, but it’s not. It’s all about fear and the kind of control that she has over you. She needs to have that control, no matter what situation she’s in. KRETSCHMAR. She’s probably listening to this right now.
She has her minions. And you have to watch out for them at all times.
I once looked up to her. I almost admired her. Almost. I thought she had something like compassion. But I was dead wrong. It’s not compassion afterall. It’s jus’elf preservation, a sickening, destructive kind of self-preservation. She’s only nice to you as an after-thought, or perhaps she actually needs something from you, though she would never want you to know it. She will demand things from you. That’s all. She will never admit to actually needing you.

If I can get through that on a regular basis, then I think that I can get through just about anything. I would much rather be physically beaten than have the piss kicked outta my soul.

2008-07-14T22:10:00.000-07:00

Here’s de new form for admittance dey asked me for.
PATIENT:

PHOTO:

TREATMENT RECORD:

ANOMALIES:

RADIOGRAPHIC FINDINGS:

ADDITIONAL FINDINGS

DETAIL:

PERCUSSION SENSITIVE:

ABNORMAL WEAR:

DETAIL:

SUMMARY OF DIAGNOSIS:

TREATMENT PLAN IN SEQUENCE:

PROGNOSIS:

Canadian Mental Health Association
Canadian Life and Health Insurance Association Inc.
Standard Mental Health Claim Form
PART 1 Doctor Unique No. SPEC.
Patient’s Office Account No.
I HEREBY ASSIGN MY BENEFITS PAYABLE FROM THIS CLAIM TO THE NAMED DOCTORS AND AUTHORIZE PAYMENT DIRECTLY TO HIM/HER. Please Remit Payment to (Signature on File)

______________________________________________________________
SIGNATURE OF SUBSCRIBER

FOR DOCTORS USE ONLY - FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION, DIAGNOSIS, PRECEDURES, OR SPECIAL CONSIDERATIONS

I UNDERSTAND THAT THE FEES LISTED IN THIS CLAIM MAY NOT BE COVERED BY OR MAY EXCEED MY PLAN BENEFITS. I UNDERSTAND THAT I AM FINANCIALLY RESPONSIBLE TO MY DOCTOR FOR THE ENTIRE TREATMENT. I ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THE TOTAL FEE IS ACCURATE AND HAS BEEN CHARGED TO ME FOR SERVICES RENDERED. I AUTHORIZE RELEASE OF THE INFORMATION CONTAINED IN THIS CLAIM FORM TO MY INSURING COMPANY/PLAN ADMINISTRATOR. I ALSO AUTHORIZE THE COMMUNICATION OF INFORMATION RELATED TO THE COVERAGE OF SERVICES DESCRIBED IN THIS FORM TO THE NAMED DOCTOR.

___________________________________________________________
SIGNATURE OF PATIENT (PARENT/GUARDIAN)

OFFICE VERIFICATION

I know dat it ain too excitin, but i’s got all de necessary fields.
Seat patient in consult room with doctor. What is your primary concern?
Like it ever fuckin happens dat way. Der’s no fuckin time.
“It is likewise to reduce real time to abstract physical time, to the essentially quantitative time which is that of the objectivity of mundane calendars from which the signs that gave a sacred qualification to every present have disappeared.”
More Henry Corbin, not like it’s ever gonna do me any good. I’m not even allowed to be concerned with the difference between what’s alive and what isn’t.
What can we do for you today?
COMMON USES: This medicine is a benzodiazepine used to relieve anxiety and cause drowsiness before certain medical procedures. It may also be used to treat other conditions as determined by your doctor.
ADDITIONAL MONITORING OF YOUR DOSE OR CONDITION may be needed if you are taking metformin, probenecid, or blood thinners (such as warfarin). THIS MEDICINE MAY AFFECT CERTAIN LAB TEST RESULTS. Make sure laboratory personnel and your doctors know you use this medicine. When the room fills what will that be like?
Furthermore, I have all dese other assignments dat Kretschmar’s asked me to complete. Assist with one or more studies exploring language development. How infants identify the sound patterns of their native languages; how toddlers learn word meanings; interactions between language and conceptual development in two-four year-olds. Coding recorded data.

What is it to have successful communication? True beliefs are essential to interpretation, though there’s always some possibility of error. Successful communication entails mainly true beliefs are being held by both communicators. You have to assume that a believer holds true beliefs in order to allow for communication at all. This is Davidson’s Principle of Charity. It seems to take us back to a notion of similarity. Davidson says that if knowing one’s thoughts depends on external factors (for individuation) then thoughts would be altered according to environment.

I bin readin Carey’s posts lately. She seems pretty angry, though she refuses to engage in any sort of communication with me. Can’t really blame her for dat, I s’pose.
Do people pay attention to me at all? Similar changes in the expression of anxiety also occur. In the beginning of therapy, anxiety may be diffuse.The patient may be generally withdrawn and frightened, tense and garrulous, or over-anxious about being clean, neat, orderly. Reminds me of someone trying to eat soap. Who was dat, Maro?
Maybe if I changed her environment or something.
Before we left the fire to go in we had to study the sky: the weather, the stars.

2008-05-15T23:57:00.000-07:00

Der’s gonna be trouble in JMac’s session today, I know it. Maro, look what he turned in to Jo: Ill Communication
These days, everyone is up in arms over decisions made by the CRTC regarding Canadian content. However, there is a much larger issue at stake here, namely access to the very infrastructures over which Canadian content is transmitted. Generally, people seem to feel that more competition can only be a good thing for the Canadian consumer. According to major telecommunications companies like Telus, opening up the Canadian marketplace will result in better services at lower rates. However, it’s likely that the average Canadian consumer will end up paying more for a basic level of service.
The former monopoly telecommunications companies no longer have an interest in maintaining a basic level of service for individual consumers. When these companies compete for marketshare in a particular location, they do so by offering an initially low rate that does not last for the duration of the contract that a consumer must sign in order to receive service. This is bad enough in cities that can support a variety of options for telecommunications services. The consumer must be vigilant and read the fine print whenever a contract is signed, all the while remaining aware of the fact that the company with whom the contract is being signed will not have the consumer’s best interests at heart. In the end, a city-dweller could simply refuse to sign-up for any internet or phone connection. Living and working in a city without these services certainly isn’t fun, but it probably won’t endanger your life. When it comes to the great number of sparsely populated communities that make up Canada, it’s not safe to live and work without telecommunications. In fact, it’s pretty risky to live in isolation without immediate contact with other members of one’s community. There are many small communities in Canada that have yet to receive the capacity to serve cell phones; but this will change in May of 2008 when Canadian wireless spectrum will again be auctioned-off. These are isolated areas, where people have greater need for cell phones than those who live in cities. Originally, these areas were serviced by the former monopoly companies who ran landline telecommunications in Canada on behalf of Canadian citizens. It used to be the case that any Canadian who wanted phone service could have it by paying a fee that was in keeping with the cost of living at the time. The infrastructure of this system of telecommunication was sponsored by the Canadian government because it was in the best interest of the average, tax-paying citizen. Times have certainly changed, but for isolated communities throughout Canada telecommunications are still akin to an essential service.
It might seem as though today’s fast-paced technological developments would create potential for new modes of telecommunication, however, most of the technology being developed is already owned by the largest corporations in Canadian telecommunications. The Canadian Association of Voice Over IP Providers is a not-for-profit group formed in 2005 by voice over IP providers who felt they needed a means to lobby for their concerns with the telecommunications industry. Leslie Bester, a CAVP board member, maintains that VOIP could not exist without access to competition networks. “Somehow, someone feels that it is possible to build the same infrastructure and compete, trenching fiber, conduits and building a parallel network... It’s simply impossible.” He believes that because it is dominated by a only a few carriers “there is effectively no competition in the wireless arena in Canada”. Even if an up-and-coming new wireless company manages to do well against Canada’s big three (Bell, Rogers, and Telus), chances are that one of these corporations will buy that company out. One example of this occurrence is Fido. Somehow Microcell Connexions, Inc. was able to launch Fido in 1996. They had won a bid for wireless spectrum in the auction that took place in 1995. Yet, by 2002 Microcell was struggling. Andre Tremblay, then President and Chief Executive Officer of Microcell Telecommunications cited “the currently unfavourable market conditions in the wireless telecommunications and mobile internet sector” as the reason for discontinuing its efforts to externally market a new mobile commerce platform. This decision resulted in the elimination of 18 positions in their Montreal office, including the Chief Operating Officer of the project. By 2003, Microcell was filing for bankruptcy protection and by 2004 they had accepted an offer from Rogers Communications for $1.4-billion. Another example of this occurence is Clearnet Communications. Telus chose not to fight for wireless spectrum in the auction of 1995. Instead, they waited and watched while Clearnet Communications, another company that had won a wireless spectrum bid, slowly went under. As the year 2000 rolled in, Telus took control of Clearnet Communications for $6.6-billion. Granted, this was the largest deal in the history of Canadian telecommunications, which might have been wonderful for the people of Clearnet Communications but not so great for the Canadian consumer. At the time of the merger, Clearnet had the maximum amount of bandwidth allowed by Ottawa. Now, Telus has more wireless spectrum allocated to them than any other wireless company in Canada. And they want more.

Everyone knows dat shit was written by C. Gibson, way back at de beginnin o’de millenium, fer fuck’sake. Does JMac think we’re idiots? Maybe he’s tryin to tell us somethin. What de fuck is he doin? Plus, his evaluation is comin up. Time to find out whether he ready to mix wid real society yet. Maybe da’s why he actin up. Alright, den. Lets find JMac an do some sorta simulation, already. This issue is pertinent to nonconditioning paradigms in which awareness of experimental contingencies is measured.
“But at that point it was concluded that the crime itself could only have been committed in a state of some temporary disturbance of the mind, as it were, under the influence of some dangerous monomania...”
“If I may interrupt you for a moment, I’d like to tell you more about the awareness measure used in JMac’s, uh sorry, #060997’s case.”
“You have the floor, now, Dr. X.”
“This awareness measure is directed toward a different set of hypotheses, one other than what was originally recorded.”
“You mean you changed the scope of this particular experiment?”
“It has more to do with the subject’s knowledge of what behavioral outcome is predicted. Here, let me just show you this’imulation. I think you’ll get a better understanding of what I’m trying to explain.”

To learn more about your opportunities and career choices the Townsend College of Counsellor Training invites you to attend an Information Session on available courses and programs.

Counselling Career Aptitude Assessment
Confidentiality: Because the field of cousellor training and practice involves personal qualities needed by the applicant, a proper assessment of individual potential requires an exploration of areas related to the personal life experiences of the applicant. The information provided on this form is kept strictly confidential and is used only for admission and advising purposes for the applicant.

Submit this completed assessment to reception at your earliest convenience.
1. Discuss the statement: “Everyone can benefit from counselling.”

“This is fuckin bullshit, man. Why do I gotta even think about this shit?”
“Well, JMac, I dunno what else to say to you. Want an entry level position?”
“You know what that sounds like to me, man?”
“Yeah, I know, but we gotta start you off somewhere. You gotta have goals. Whether you like it or not, you gotta have goals.”
“You mean, I gotta have gaols.”
“Wha?”
Where did’at fuckin vocabulary come from? JMac been playin a lotta Scrabulous lately or what? Or, could be dis ain JMac at all. Better turn on de Turing test. Ha ha ha.
“Listen, JMac. At least one or two members o’de panel (especially de psychologists) are gonna be askin you dese kinda questions. If you were actually to admit de possibility dat you were at fault... You need to acknowledge de part dat you play in dis whole process, JMac. For your own good.”
“Good? What does any of you mothafuckers know about good!”
His levels are shootin outta control. He’s gonna get reprimanded if he don’t watch it. Certainly SEEMS like JMac.
“I’m fuckin public property, man! They don’t care about MY good.”
“Speakin as a person who is also public property, I can tell you dat dey care very much about YOUR good. If you self-destruct, or take someone else down wid you somehow, den they’ll lose der investment. It’s as simple as dat JMac. Everyone wants you healthy. We ain’t an SB clinic.”
At least, as far as I know we ain’t.

2008-04-17T12:07:00.000-07:00

“It was in A Dorm. I was beginnin to sharpen my senses to a very fine point. I taught myself to sleep soundly. But I can wake up totally alert if anyone comes within a metre of my bed. I can sense stares when my back is turned. And I know never to sleep with my bedding tucked in.”
Well, dis definitely sounds like JMac.
“So, dis all before you came to Townsend, right? In one o’dem SB facilities down south?”
“Yeah.”
“I think you should tell dis’hit to de committee when you meet wid’em, y’know? Jus’tell’em like it is. Don’t hold back.”
“When I went into highschool the fuckin guidance counselor steered me. He said,
‘You’re industrial arts.’ Y’know, latex shops, synthetic binding, makin boxes, glass, all o’that fuckin toxic shit.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“The whole point was you were assigned to that because you were disposable. Nobody cared what happened to me, like ever, man. So how am I s’posed to care? I don’t even need to be alive until twenty-five. What’s the point? All the good shit’s over by then, if there was ever any in the first place.”
“JMac, I can’t really give you a good reason to stay alive. In and of itself, that’s just the thing: there is no good reason to live. That’s the absurdity of it all. I do know that if you were to die, I would miss you -”
“Yeah, but you’re just a-”
“Shutup, man. I’m tryna tell you somethin. The only thing that makes life worth living is the people around you.”
“Yeah, but they’re all shit.”
“Who you callin shit?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, so I ain’t a real person. Is dat it?”
“When the committee asks me about the riot, I say nothing. You say, ‘Why?’ I say, ‘Why bother?’”
Dis kid gettin as bad as Randt wid’e goddam movie quotes. I wonder if even he knows where he gets dem from.
“JMac dis’erious, man. Dis meetin can change yer life. Don’t you wanna go somewhere OUT of Townsend one day?”

2008-04-15T20:48:00.001-07:00

“Yeah, I know. After the interview, send a thankyou note, etc., etc.”
After the interview, send a Thank-You Note. When you call back say, “I have now met with many people in the industry and have now targeted some companies I would like to work for. I was very impressed with your organization so I wanted to let you know I am very interested in your company and would like the opportunity to work there. Is it okay if I forward my resume to you? (only if you have not yet given it to them). If you know of any position for which I might be qualified will you please let me know? I will keep in touch and let you know how it is going?”
After your initial follow up call, call back in two or three weeks and say: “I just wanted to let you know I am still open to work for your company and wanted to check in with you to see if you had any leads or heard of anything coming up.”

Keep accurate records of each call and what was said.

Remember that these contacts may be useful even when you are working so make sure you maintain the relationship you have developed with them by staying in touch. Lastly... follow up, follow up, follow up!!!
“It sounds to me, JMac, dat you gotta start somewhere, eh?”
“An entry level position? You know what that sounds like to me? To me, it sounds like pushin a fuckin broom around for the next 20 fuckin years, man.”
“I know what you’re scared of -”
“SCARED? Scared? I’ve been turning upside down. SCARED? There are guys in the Field who done a lot of reading on these kinda jobs. You know, like, there’s running a lathe, and it’s gonna take an hour to go from here to there with the cutting tool. My dad used to read on that kinda job. I remember when me an my dad would wander down to the rocks along Lake Michigan. We’d talk the whole night - about baseball, about family, about his union. So, when he got me my first job it was in the South plant machine shop. The guys called it ‘Happy Valley’ because compared to places like the blast furnace, it was a pretty great place to work. Real fuckin work, man.”
Where de fuck is he gettin dis’hit from? His dad. Oh well, one cliche deserves another.
“A workin class hero is somethin to be.”
“Most of the time, people are hardly ever doing the tasks assigned to them in their job description. It’s like those things take up a fragment of their day and they just spend the rest of their time wanking-off, or figuring out how to climb up the ladder to their next promotion. And then because...”
This session is goin downhill fast. Wait. What’s that? Jo is openin the door to Kretschmar’s office.
“Shhshshh, JMac. Be quiet for a second, ok? I gotta listen.”
The man behind the mask is underneath the fan now.
“LISTEN? You gotta LISTEN? You supposed to be listenin to me, man!”
“I want to listen to someone other dan you for a minute, ok? Gawd, JMac, sometimes you’re so self-centered.”
“What the fuck, man? This is MY fuckin session!”
“Shhhshhh!”

2008-03-26T21:38:00.000-07:00

Jo is inside Kretschmar's office. Why?
"Hey there, Dr. Kretschmar?"
"Hmm?"
She barely looks up from her paperwork.
"I was uh, wondering, do you think that you could, like turn Dr. X down or something?"
Kretschmar looks up, confusion on her face.
"What do you mean, turn her down? Is there something wrong?"
"Well, it's just that, well. She seems kinda hyper lately, almost, y'know, like manic or something."
"Hmmm. I'll look into it. Monitor her behaviour over the next week and get back to me. I'll see what I can do."
"Ok. Thanks. See ya later."
Kretschmar's already gone back to her paperwork.

2008-03-13T14:13:00.000-07:00

Prin tried living on her own once, for a whole summer. In fact, I got to bear witness to this attempt because it was me wid whom she shared a place. Dis where d’irony is. You gotta know what Pane an Pinch is really like in order to appreciate it. When I first moved into da neighbourhood... Actually, da’s how me an Prin met. Both of us got into Dork U. And we both needed a roommate. So, we enlisted online and each other is what we found. Together we went out in search of an apartment.

So mosta d'houses we looked at were pretty run-down. Der was one place where once d'agent (‘cuz de landlord couldn be bothered to show us de place hisself, of course) had finished givin us de tour an accompanyin spiel we happened upon de tenants o’d'apartment below ours. Dey were comin down de stairs de same time as us. Dey musta recognized d’agent-guy or somethin ‘cause when dey saw us comin dey stopped on de landin an waited for us. Den dey started bawlin out d’agent cuz dey couldn believe de landlord was showin de place when it was practically fallin apart. Chunks o’der ceilin were fallin down into der bathtub. But dese were d’only kindsa places dat I could afford. I had to be saving up for med school, yo. Prin stuck wid me cuz she felt like me and her would make good roommates, and’at was one thing dat she wanted to be able to count on. Eventually we found a place an got all our shit moved right into d’heart o’de Pain and Pinch neighbourhood cuz da’s pretty much what surrounds Dork U. In some ways i’s good cuz i’s like exposin a lotta bourgeois suburbanites (like Prin) to shit dat dey wouldn’t normally experience. On d’other hand... De very next week after we got ourselves moved in d’apartment above ours got all busted up, not only were dey robbed but all der windows were smashed an all de shit dat wasn stolen got fuct up an ruined somehow by de robbers. Later on me ‘n Prin actually discovered dat de robbers had gotten into our place somehow, dey jus hadn gotten around to takin anythin dat was o’much value. But das another story. I was worried dat our neighbours might be a bit suspicious of us because we had no idea dat de whole ting had happened. You know, like, why didn we hear all dat shit gettin busted upstairs an what-not. But we all were talkin about it an it turned out dat me ‘n Prin were out shakin our asses til late de nite dat it happened, so we weren’t around to hear a thing. Anyway, just a week after dat whole thing happened, Prin got mugged at knifepoint.

See, how it went down was Prin was carryin a video camera dat she got from de media library at school. De media centre der does everythin dey can to keep dis sorta ting from happenin. Dey put stickers on d’outside o’de cases for d’equipment dat say, “Biohazard”, “Toxic Chemicals”, etc., but I guess maybe some crooks done figured mosta dat shit out by now. So, here’s Prin carryin a video camera in a case dat advertises rotten chemicals, and all of a sudden she hears some guy walkin behind her and his pace is increasin. She thinks dat he’s jus goin to pass her by, but instead he grabs her roun de neck an holds a knife to her face. He says real close up in her ear dat if she don hand over de case he’s gonna fuckin slit her throat. She drops de case. He jus kinda laughs, still in her ear. He says, “Now lets see what else you can give me.” At which point a car comes ‘roun de corner wid headlights bright to illuminate de scene. De fuckin shitass coward thief grabs de case an takes off. De car wasn goin so fast, an it stops an’ a man jumps out to see what de hell is goin on. Prin is standin frozen in de spot where she was accosted. She can’t speak, she can’t get any sound to come out at all. Dis man is tryin to communicate wid her. He’s tryin to piece together what happened, but she’s all in shock. Der’s a spot on her neck where a little bit o’blood is comin out now, a spot where de coward fuckhead thief was holdin his stupid knife.
Prin drops to the ground. This freaks the man out, and he tries to pick her up, but as soon as he touches her she screams an just runs into dese trees dat are nearby. She keeps runnin an’ runnin til she finds a spot under a bush where she hides an sits an tries to compose herself for bout an hour. Den eventually she gets up again an runs de rest o’de way home. She stays up de rest o’de nite sittin on de couch cross-legged watchin some jesus infomercials on de christian channel. Dis is where I find her de next mornin, an man, she’s a fuckin mess. I’m tryin to tell her dat she needs to inform de cops an whatnot an she’s all like, what fuckin good is dat gonna do. She wants to kill dat fuckin creep. She wans to get a vigilante crew together an take down his ass herself.
“Yeah, ok. We can do dat but, maybe first to make it look all official we should at least tell de media centre what happened an dey’ll help us fill out a police report an’ stuff.”
“Ok, but you don’t understand. If we do that they’ll know that I’m out to catch his ass an then they’ll be on to me an’ then they’ll try to stop me or somethin.”
“Hmmm... But maybe dey could help somehow.”
“No way. I’s gotta be me an I’m gonna get Jess and Lisa Tai... YOU know how tough Lisa Tai is. And Olivia, an Christine.”

2008-03-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

“Oh my gawed.”
We stop and stare at one another.
“We could get Christine and all of her freakin sisters together, y’know how incredible that would be. They’re practically like a gang in and of themselves.”
She definitely had a point there. I was beginning to understand her position, though I had noticed dat she had yet to mention de names of any men. But I didn’t wanna press it at dis point cuz I didn’t know how she was gonna react to me questioning her on somethin like dat.
“You an I both know that the legal system don’t do shit anymore. It’s my duty as a good, tax-payin citizen o’this city to take matters into my own hands. We gotta make sure that this don’t happen again. Hey, ya wanna join us?”
She’s got my arm in her grip an the grip is gettin tighter as she speaks. She’s lookin me straight in d’eye an what I see in her face scares me to death. I’s like der’s a demon comin outta her. Her face has been taken over by somethin completely beyond her.

“Now, to understand what had me so frightened you gotta know a bit about Prin...”
Jo is looking at me kinda strangely. Had’is look for mosta my narrative.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re really taking this memory shit to heart, aren’t you?”
“Well, i’s my job to...”
“Yeah, but X, I think you’re taking some of this a little too personally. YOU know that these aren’t YOUR memories, right?”
“What? Yeah, of course. Of course I know dat. What’dya think I am... What?”
...
“Well, I should be goin anyway. Maro’s calling me. I done stayed here too long anyway. Talkin yer ear off an shit.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Yeah, and I appreciate it, Jo. I really do. I’ll see ya later.”
Granted I didn know Prin too well at dat point, but still de little I did know was enough to tell me dat she might have gone over d’edge there. Why does Jo hafta be such a prick sometimes. Ha, oh dat was good. Funny. Gawd, not my memories. Fuck. Maro, pull up dat fuckin email. You know d’one. I’ve looked at it like 1000 times. Yeah, da’s de shit.

August 16
I have included the list of things that I can remember that I have, I probably have more in terms of stuff for the kitchen but as you can see I do not have alot of furniture. Perhaps we can go shopping after we’ve moved in if we need more.
Anyway.
I am not a big television watcher, but I am addicted to movies. I saw Super Cop with Jackie Chan and Michelle Khan last night, it was awesome. I am really impartial in musical taste - the only music I can’t stand to listen to is Phish. In terms of my living habits - my bedrooms are notoriously trashed - mostly with clothing or books - I love books. You mentioned that you were a fan of the ‘stacking’ cleaning technique - I am also. I am much better at keeping the other areas of the house clean (as opposed to my bedroom). I love to cook - I love food basically - especially food from other cultures.
I was really excited when I saw that your favourite tv show is Northern Exposure - mine is too. I also can’t believe you love water - I do too. Every time I get near water it ends up all over me or me in it.
I can’t think of much else. I think (I hope) that I’ll be pretty easy to live with, but at any time if you have any problem with anything that I do please tell me - I’ll do the same.
The first person to move into the apartment needs to call the landlady and tell her what day we need the keys by (and ask her where to get the keys, also).
Anyway, I’ll see you soon. Sincerely, Prin (that’s my nickname, in case you were wondering)

2008-02-26T10:37:00.000-08:00

Maro, let me get yer opinion on something.

Ok, dis vigilante madness stuff was not yer normal Prin behaviour. She’s from dis suburb way d’hell north o’de city, an accordin to her she’s always been a bit of a weirdo. One o’de first courses she took here was English lit. or some shit. So, she had to write dis essay about how she ended up at Dork U. She wrote dis really cool piece. She gave me a copy of it to read over for her an everythin. I think I even have a copy somewhere. Yeah, yeah, da’s it. In my opinion, i’s kinda shitty writing, but who am I, Dostoevsky?

Justifiably an ARTIST
I come from a small town. People in small towns tend to view life rather simply. Judgments are made without hesitation and without much thought of the consequences that ensue. Judging people according to their surface appearance keeps life simple. Things that can be placed in a defined category are easily sized-up and filed away in some corner of the mind.
When it comes to choosing a profession in a small town there is one rule and one rule only: You are what you do. Heaven forbid anyone have the audacity to change his or her profession midway through life, thereby forcing the alteration
of a community’s perceptions regarding that person. Small town citizens will be damned if they'll give up their convenient definitions of what a person is or isn't. Thus when it came time for me to choose a profession I discovered that according to my outward appearance and mannerisms I had very little choice indeed.
From an early age on it was apparent that I was to become something peculiar. One sign of this peculiarity was unmistakable: more often than not I would be off "in my own little world". Being a dreamer and having little desire to verbally communicate the dreams I indulged in led to ridicule from my peers. Once cast aside from the games of the playground, my only solace was the security I found in independence. This independent attitude led to further isolation from my small town community. I became suspicious of anyone accepted by the society with which I had become familiar. Furthermore, having virtually no friends made me withdrawn and moody.
A virtual recluse at age 11, I would sometimes catch snippets of conversations concerning "what was to become of" me. One that all the overheard descriptions of me included was "artist's temperament". This phrase germinated and took root when I began to exhibit interest in various areas of the fine arts. It was at this point that I suddenly realized my options for the future had without my knowledge or consent, been limited.
My aptitudes in math and science were of little significance to teachers who had me pegged as one of those "creative types". When I began highschool and shared with our guidance counselor my ambition to enter into the field of medicine he, while making little effort to hide his shock and dismay, suggested that I aim for something more in line with my obvious proclivities. He hinted that trespassers in fields like that of medicine were shot on sight. The "types" of fields to which he was referring were those of a no-nonsense, serious nature (i.e., science, business, etc.). Social deviants were not encouraged to immerse themselves in studies that would land them in positions of power within the community (i.e., Who would have any respect for a doctor dressed like some sort of circus performer?). Instead, my guidance counselor steered me towards a career in an area that was a little closer to what he assumed were my tastes: the fine arts.
Of course I was angry. Flagrant discrimination on the basis of appearance and social behavior seemed like a burning injustice to my adolescent mind. From that point on I walked around with a chip on my shoulder and preoccupied myself with thoughts of proving everyone wrong. This earned me the reputation of a scatter-brained, absent-minded girl with a bad temper. Lacking the wherewithal to verbally express my anger, I took to using visual media to express myself. I painted, drew and sculpted my opinions of those around me, thereby fulfilling the artist’s stereotype completely. I did not conform. I did not fit in. I was angry with my peers and society at large. I did not communicate in a normal fashion. I looked like an artist, and now I had truly come to behave like one.
I will admit to you that I am the embodiment of my small town's concept of an artist. On the surface I am prone to moodiness and impulsive behavior. I express myself using unconventional means. Furthermore I may seem flighty, immature and unreliable. This is the persona that has been shaped for me and I can offer no excuses for it other than the circumstances in which I was brought up. It may seem as though I ended up in the fine arts by default, that art is the only salvation left for a social deviant such as myself.
The persona created for me by my environment may fit me like a glove but, in the end it is my choice to don such a glove. I choose whether or not to embrace this destiny. Should I choose to accept this destiny, I will be in a position to portray my impressions of all other professions. It is the artist more than any other professional, who has the opportunity to draw upon all the resources that human civilization has to offer. When the language, the currency, and the members of any given culture have died, their art will still live on. So, be careful about what you say to me. It may just be kept for posterity’s sake.

2008-02-18T21:44:00.000-08:00

A’right, so parts o’dat essay still make me cringe. To tell you de truth, I hate writin, myself. Sometimes I don'trust de written word at all. Words jus get you into trouble. If I had a choice I wouldn't use dem at all. Dey are inadequate to de bone. Dis probly sound like some kinda o’foppery considerin all de written words an notes dat I keep takin and keepin and takin, etc. all de goddam time. But anyway, de point is... What was my fuckin point, anyway?
...
Well, her teacher really liked’essay. It was the kinda thing where he read it to de whole class, yadda yadda, which again, centers her out. And in d’end, what he told her was dat her essay was d’only one outta de class dat indicated she had ended up in her program because of prejudice. Boy, did that ever make her think.
...
I think da’s part o’da reason she was so big on being my roommate: she wanted to go into medicine. She jus felt like she wasn smart enough to make it.
...
Shit. Dat was my point. No matter how much she got made fun of, no matter how much she was centered out an laughed at, she never (an dey did some mean shit to her man, let me tell you) fuckin fought back. Never once. When I first met her, she was de nicest damn person I had ever known. And’en after d’attack, she jus fuckin snapped. Prin was on de warpath, an from dat moment on she didn stop. To see her like dat was quite eerie. I’s like she totally flipped a switch. And it really makes me wonder. Maybe we all start out innocent and wonderful, it’s just a matter o’time before our experience corrupts us. Prin led a pretty sheltered life. Maybe she was able to hold out longer dan most.
...

2008-02-11T14:01:00.000-08:00

If I can get through that on a regular basis, then I think that I can get through just about anything. I would much rather be physically beaten than have the piss kicked outta my soul.
When the room fills up what will THAT be like?
I plan on spilling most of my tea BEFORE drinking it.
Do people pay attention to me? It goes without saying that I will pay attention to them. I wonder if they ever feel watched by me. Do they feel listened-to when I am observing them? I suppose that affects the observations. But then again, they’d be watched no matter what. I’m sure they don really think too much bout any o’dis anyway. Dis a very good place to have a conversation wid yerself.
I will nurse dis tea until de light has come, and den some.
Jo never listened to me. He didn’t like poetry and he didn’ like Henry Sugar. Or perhaps he jus didn’t like bein read to.
How much attention should I be payin to other people’s conversations anyhow?
“Look Ma! I’m an existentialist!”
A fake laugh, such a fake, fake laugh.
Dey’re interrupting. Want me to move my chair, my body (my existence?). Well, it’s not going to happen. fractals connected. fibraccio. libarace. Maro is part of de closed circuit. Maro is a telekinetic photon-machine. D'ultimate gadget. Can take still photos, can shoot moving targets. Maro can send notes to other similar gadgets across time and space. I’ve been a little despondent with everyone else except for um, yeah, everyone. FU man. What, what universe did i attend? it’s called FU, what’s yours? That’s why you ain’t got a date. I should be talking to her navel, saying you need not worry bout fallowing out there. to be completed at a later date. Kretschmar. You can’t trust her, ever, not even for one cool minute. You gotta remember that. You gotta keep dat fear in your heart. De terrible thing is dat she wants you to have dat fear there. It should be about respect. That’s what you’d think it would be about, but it’s not. It’s all about fear and de kind of control dat she has over you. She needs to have dat control, no matter what situation she’s in.
She has her minions. And you have to watch out for dem at all times, eh Maro?
I once looked up to her. I almost admired her. Almost. I thought she had something like compassion. But I was dead wrong. I’s not compassion afterall. I’s jus’elf preservation, a sickening, destructive kind of self-preservation. She’s only nice to you as an after-thought, or perhaps she actually needs something from you, though she would never want you to know it. She will demand things from you. That’s all. She will never admit to actually needing you.

WHOA. I was totally dozing off there.

Da’s it. I’m jus gonna sit here beside all these ridiculous people an work on my own fuckin report or somethin.
How does one become an autonomous agent? Is it possible for an agent to contribute to his own process of autonomy?
It would seem that it may be possible for an agent to dissociate himself from the sort of deliberation that he uses to decide between first-order desires. In this way, one could say that an agent may not identify with the sort of reasons-responsive mechanisms that she uses for deliberation, as well as the potential solutions that they may provide him with. If an agent does not himself recognize or identify with the psychological capacities that should render him autonomous ought we to hold him responsible for his actions?
I dunno.

2008-02-05T14:56:00.000-08:00

“Exactly, but I like this... You couldn’t say that I’m shy... [laughing].”

“I went to a newsgroup last year... She’s a psychic... Judy, in my group, she’s so unhappy... But... You just take these trips...”

“Hmmm...”

“New York... The divorce hadn’t gone through, yet... And then they broke up... One day...”

“So, it could be the last day... I wrote everything... I... I... I... Friends.”

“And then you say it’s not my fault. [laughing]”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I cry so loud. Why don’t you help me.”

“So we’re chatting away...”

“I told him...”

“No, the guy...”

“Always remember... Yeah, confirming... TSX Group Inc. and Montreal Exchange Inc... Yesterday. They have renewed merger talks... a made-in-Canada deal.”

“Who’s going to underwrite that sort of bill?”

“Certainly not Heywood Securities, Vancouver.”

“Most definitely. I heard they’re going under.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, they took a big hit with the meltdown. Seriously, at least five of their companies are gone, like they disappeared overnight.”

“No shit! I guess they’re out of the game.”

“No shit.”

“Then she wrote... from there... She should travel... then she will understand.”

“You want to take on...”

“So it’s there...”

“Actually...”

“She says, ‘I brought it up and the next thing I know...’”

“Did you ever get away?”

“And Johann will be here in August.”

“He didn’t sound right...”

“So, um...”

“And I know that I will be with her...”

I’s Alison Tsoukalas and her sister-in-law (whose name I can’t quite locate). Nice little stock-tip dey giving me der. I oughtta try dat one out. Alison should know, seeing as how she used to work for Heywood Securities’ head-office in Vancouver.

2008-01-29T16:11:00.000-08:00

At the conservancy’s annual general meeting, dried-up old equestrians and amateur botanists talk of their battles with developers and planning commissions.
“Special guest speakers will include...”
I’ve known them for years and still don’t understand them.
“A comprehensive history of working people and their organizations in... A national teachers’ poll was conducted on behalf of... It reveals the views of educators on workplace issues such as workload and hours of work, abusive parents...”
What about abusive teachers? Anyone take a poll on dat?
“... class size, integration of special needs students...”
I got quite a few students wid special needs, da’s for sure.
“... the extent of participation in and spending on professional development activities. The survey indicates that 83% of... have a higher workload than four years ago. They also report growing class sizes and, at the same time, larger numbers of special needs students are being integrated into their classrooms...”
Now is dat increasin class-size due to the number of special needs students being integrated or what? How bout some more freakin percentages here.
“Although a significant number of teachers reported witnessing at least one incident that they would classify as physical assault or verbal abuse, there is an overwhelming view that our schools are safe places.”
I beg to differ wid’at one, hun. Another grizzled eco-veteran slips in and takes a seat. Then de next speaker o’d’hour, good old Hobson, rises to begin his’hit.
“The level of any conscious state in the brain rises and falls in response to the degree of electrochemical activation supplied by the reticular formation in the brainstem core. Whatever consciousness is, and however its components are mediated by the specialized structures of the upper brain, the LEVEL of consciousness is set by an internal electrochemical drive system that has been called the ‘nonspecific reticular activating system’ since its discovery by Moruzzi and Magoun in 1949.”
Hobson might take quantum mechanics a little too far, but at least he seems like he’s talkin sense today. 1949? Sure was a long time ago.
“The main idea is that for the brain to be conscious, its nerve cells must maintain a certain level of electrochemical activity... Consciousness is virtually obliterated during sleep, which leads to the surprising insight that consciousness operates within a very narrow range of activation. Put another way, consciousness is exquisitely sensitive to even slight changes in activation level... By altering the tension in our muscles and by focusing our internal awareness on one channel of data or another, we can navigate into the more peaceful harbors of the conscious world. When we do this, we bring our reticular formation partially under the control of our will, probably via the prefrontal cortex.”

CHALMERS gotta get his two cents worth in here...
“Computational hypothesis...”
He cites Wolfram’s New Kind of Science.
“State of cell at one time is a function of the state of a cell at a previous time...”
Well, as if we didn’t all know dat. Still, I can’t help thinkin o’Kim’s new version o’functionalism. Or at least, I guess it used to be new, probably back when I was a student or something.
“This hypothesis would not require massive revisions in other beliefs.”
David Chalmers has the stench of the desert all over him. I’s in his hair, on his shirt and socks. His mind is thoroughly ensconced in it. The sun and the sand in conjunction with too much dry air has entered his bloodstream. The madness o’Castenada is coursing through his veins. His eyes are seething with a sky that remains unfettered by rainclouds. There are sunsets roaming free in his beard. There’s rock dust spilling from his cuffs and nostrils... Windtunnels forming in his mouth and drilling into his skull. How much longer can he keep them at bay? They are gradually wearing down his abutements and crags. I used to want to be just like him.
“What unites all of these states is that there is something it is like to be in them. All of them are states of experience.”

The problem with experience is that we cannot seem to figure out how or why such feelings arise from physical processes.

“This is not to say that experience has no function. Perhaps it will turn out to play an important cognitive role. But for any role it might play, there will be more to the explanation of experience than a simple explanation of the function. Perhaps it will even turn out that in the course of explaining a function, we will be led to the key insight that allows an explanation of experience. If this happens, though, the discovery will be an extra explanatory reward. There is no cognitive function such that we can say in advance that explanation of that function will automatically explain experience.”
I’m gonna get up de courage to actually ask a question myself, now:
“What is a mental state?”
Hobson takes it upon hisself to answer: “It follows that, given sensation, awareness could emerge simply as the sensation of sensation. With the emergence of vocalization and language capability in higher primates and humans, this sensation of sensation could then be represented abstractly in verbal descriptions and drawings.”
I feel like I didn get much of an answer to my question there. Maybe I’ll try something else: “How do we know that it is verbally reportable?”
Hobson’s gonna try again: “What began as mere sensation becomes -in a series of seamless bootstrapping steps- first our sensation of sensations, then our awareness of sensation, and finally our awareness of awareness...”
What the F is dis guy going on about?!
“... The gradual building up of symbol upon symbol upon symbol as brain circuit is added to brain circuit is as palpable in the development of individuals as it is in the elaboration of species.”
I don’t’hink dat answers my questions at all. Sounds like a lot o’bullshit to me, bringing in Darwin like dat. Shame on you. Da’s blasphemy in my book. Besides, I think der’s no reason why understanding the brain basis for consciousness should eliminate or even limit further phenomenological investigations on the subject. I believe dey go hand-in-hand, like two peas in a pod. But no one really listens to me anyway.
“How can such a verbal report be verified?”
He probably ain gonna like me no more. Oh well, I’m fuckin used to it. How long is dis fuckin presentation gonna go on for anyway?

2008-01-28T16:21:00.000-08:00

“If we want a truly deep understanding of consciousness, we must descend beyond microscopic levels of analysis to that of atoms and subatomic particles, and even beyond that.”
This definitely where Hobson’s account starts to fall apart. I hope he don’t start to cry today. I don’t even feel like listenin to de rest o’what dis guy has to say.
“How can we know that a mental state is internally accessible?”
I’m getting bored. Time to dissociate...Who is dis group of yuppy hipsters next to me? Texting each other bout ad space and news anchors on websites... I’m gonna interrupt Hobson here, I’m gettin sick of his bullshit: “How do we know when an action is deliberate?”
Everyone in de room jus’tops an fuckin stares at me. I guess dat’s enough outta me for today. But I still have so many other questions: Are these phenomena really as straightforward as Chalmers claims? If so, then it would seem as though the experience of consciousness should be equally straightforward. What is this feeling other than an awareness of mental states? If we have no explanation of how the ‘feeling’ that accompanies consciousness translates into some sort of physical process, then it would seem that we have no reason to believe that mental states can be translated into some sort of physical process. But da’s jus my opinion, I could be wrong, yo. Hey, what happened in de last board meeting? Maro?

2008-01-27T13:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Members, Friends and Colleagues,

For many years, Townsend’s Board of Directors has constructed its annual budget, and authorized both ongoing and new program expenditures, on the basis of its best guesses as to what costs and incomes would be. Sometimes it has actually budgeted a substantial deficit ($92 000 a year) when it has strongly suspected income for the year would actually significantly exceed what had been dependably established at the time of budgeting.
As well, Townsend has also been constrained in its core funding over the course of the last decade. It has risen by a total of 17% from 1995/96 to 2005/06. During the same period, inflation rose by just under 20%, and Townsend’s membership grew by 150%.
This year, we’ve decided to address long-term cost pressures among all its funded agencies with an increase of 5% to the core funding for each of them, this despite receiving no additional money from the provincial Government for this purpose. For Townsend, this meant an increase of $53 000 in its ongoing core funding (bringing the total increase since 1995/96 to the 17% noted).
The Townsend Board of Directors is grateful for the increase to its core funding. However, this additional
$53 000 is not enough to sustain some of the expanded programming that has been put in place; and it is nowhere near enough to fund the further expansions hoped for. So the Board has made a series of very painful budget decisions:
-closure of Townsend’s highly regarded Positive Prevention department
-elimination of three full-time staff positions
-numerous reductions in programming across the range of Townsend’s services

Townsend’s Board of Directors will work vigorously to secure new funding to restore our lost programs and staff.

Man, dat sucks. Who had to present dat shit? Oh yeah, dat was me. Don’t shoot de messenger, folks, please. What were MY notes on all o’dat shit, Maro?

2008-01-10T11:33:00.000-08:00

----------------------------------------------
COUNCIL ON HIGHER EDUCATION -- CONSULTATION ON FUNDING CONTINUES
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A discussion paper on a proposed new funding formula for Townsend was released today by the Townsend Council on Higher Eductaion. The paper outlines principles already determined in consultation with universities, and focuses discussion on details of how these principles can best be met through a new formula.

Council chair Gung Chen explained that the goal is to develop a fair funding formula that responds to changes in student enrolments, programs and universities, while providing incentives to encourage excellence and innovation in both university programming and research.

“The current funding formula is outdated, based on decisions made almost 10 years ago,” Gung Chen said. “Since then, enrolments have chaged, universities have changed, times have changed. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the funding formula, and it’s time to catch up.”

Somethin seems a little off to me, here. But I can’t quite put my finger on it.

The proposed formula is built upon five key principles: equity; policy sensitivity; stability and predictability; public accountability; and transparency. The principles of public accountability and transparency mean universities, students and taxpayers can more easily and logically understand how university funding is allocated, and see for themselves that public tax dollarsare being well-spent.

Equity is linked to the number of students enrolled in a university and the cost of the programs they take. This would be relected in the formula through a ‘weighted enrolment grant’. A minimum-maximum enrolment range or corridor should be set for each university at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. Universities could enrol additional students, but would only receive government funding for the number of students within this range.

The number of students would be multiplied by the cost of the programs they take. To determine program costs, programs are categorized into ‘bins’ based on a number of factors including: special facilities from laboratories to music studios; equipment costs; the need for technical and specialized support staff; and average faculty salaries.

Equity changes are proposed for international student fees. Currently, universities equally share additional fees paid by all international students. It is proposed that each university keep the fees paid by its international students to reward the increased effort being undertaken by universities in international marketing.

Universities would receive grants to encourage high-quality research capability. Government would also provide innovation and change, and public policy priorities. This supports the principle of policy sensitivity, which enables government to direct resources to its highest priorities. Restricted grants would continue to be available for alterations, renovations, and library and other equipment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

2008-01-02T18:20:00.000-08:00

Hmm... Anyway, where are they now?
“... falliblist: for all beliefs it is possible that any single belief could be false...”

Peirce was an early advocate of falliblism. WTF? Can that spelling possibly be right, Maro? For Davidson, truth does not equal coherence. But the principle of charity entails that we have to have people who are coherent believers.
A lot of life is just putting in time here and there. Is it May? Is it June? I keep mistaking this time for June. It feels like June. You have to be careful when you are writing in public. People are liable to get disconcerted.
If the principle of charity works then it is not possible for all of our beliefs to be false (most should be true). Error makes sense only against a background of true belief. True beliefs are essential to interpretation, though there’s always some possibility of error. Successful communication entails mainly true beliefs held by someone. You have to assume that a believer holds true beliefs in order to allow for communication at all.
Oops, somehow we got on to de next presenter without me noticin: Michael Lockwood is gonna tell us all bout The Enigma of Science. Very exciting indeed.
“Every physical system has its associated state space. This is an abstract space, the dimensionality of which depends on the number of degrees of freedom, and the elements of which -the points or vectors of which it is composed- denote possible states of the system.”
Hmm... Not too bad so far. I wonder what Foucault would say to all of this.
“The last few decades, in particular, have seen striking advances in our understanding of how ordered complexity can arise spontaneously in systems maintained (as are living organisms) far from thermodynamic equilibrium.”
Why is everyone so big on complexity? I don’t get it. Not all de secrets o’d’universe are hidden in complexity. Some o’dem are actually quite simple. ha ha ha.
“The thought, here, is that the whole conceptual edifice that we bring to bear on the external world -from common-sense conceptions, at one end, to the dizzying heights of theoretical physics, at the other- is essentially formal. It is structure without explicit content: a lattice of abstract causal relations between postulated variables, which makes contact with direct experience only at the periphery, where conscious states and events are hypothetically linked into the structure.”
Ooooooh, fascinating. I had no idea, said the robot. ha ha ha. Yeah, right. What about Ned Block, sucker?! Oh, if only I could retort. Maro, where’s dat fucking paper! We gotta find it! I think it’s under ‘B’. QUICK! Before the moment has passed! “Chapter 2: Can the Mind Change the World?” Is that it? Lets see... Page 29? “Later (Putnam, 1967), he argued in favor of the identity on the grounds that it was more plausible to suppose mental states are functional states (as he then called them) than that they are behavioral or physical states.” Yes, yes, get to the punctum already. Ohh yeah, I love dis part:

Putnam was my teacher during both my undergraduate and graduate days, and I fear I have absorbed his ambivalence toward functionalism. My teacher has had a habit of changing his mind, but never has he done so within a single essay, and so in this chapter I have surpassed him. My chapter starts out as an argument for functionalism, but it ends up suggesting an argument against it.

Da’s’o awesome. Anyway, carrying on: “intentional content, that is, what is shared by the belief that grass grows and the desire that grass grows, the that grass grows that both states are directed toward.” Hey, I coulda totally written somethin on dis’hit re: Burge. I remember... I remember... in class one time. When we read this piece... Everyone jumped on Ned Block’s notion of ‘intentional content’, but there was really no reason too. They just did it because it was the weakest point in the piece. What a fuckin shame. Poor Ned Block. “The question at hand is whether the sciences of the mind preclude intentional content from causal relevance to behavior.” And I remember dat when I asked to use Ned Block for my essay topic, the prof shut me down. It seemed really unfair, as though Ned Block wasn’t fashionable enough or trendy enough for me to write on. Real fuckin shame, dat. Real fuckin shame. Der’s actually nothin wrong wid his ‘intentional content’, at least, not in de way dat he uses it in dis chapter. He just needs a little more explanation, da’s all. Oh, here’s de best part. He words dis in a way dat no one else has, in my humble opinion. “the processors in the head are not sensitive to content, so how could content have any effect on the outputs or changes of state of the system of processors?” Isn dat great, Maro? “And if content can’t affect the operation of this system of processors, how could it play any role in producing behavior?” I’m so glad I remembered dis’hit. I have to admit dat when Ned Block gets goin wid all his qualia shit I’m fuckin bored to tears, but dis really hits de nail exactly on d’head.

Whoa, Maro, frickin Gung Chen is frickin adjournin de meetin already. Where to now? Well, maybe I’ll jus go home an go to sleep for a change. I’m done worn out.

2007-11-27T21:05:00.000-08:00

contrary to contradict another one. be polite, be true, become opera live to contradict another one pretty damned important too. sleeping, the good stuff. I think that alotta the time I get confused about why people are telling me certain things.

how am i goin to make it right?

Pounding and smashing, even the desire to kill, may be expressed. Self-organization is related to the tendency of the parent or sibling or perhaps the entire chaotic system to spontaneously enter states in which surprising and potentially useful properties arise either through play or through direct verbalization. This concept is revolutionizing: I’m finally locating some confidence in myself. The brain may be bumped, suddenly and unpredictably, from one conscious state to another by the escalating -Holy shit! That chick is interviewing for my job. “University types... We’ll see what happens.” She knows there’s still one candidate. But they’ll never find anyone who can move and shake like this! activation of one of its many neuronal subsystems.

2007-11-20T21:14:00.000-08:00

unknown territory. I know that a path can be made. So, to get to a point dat is out of dis world maybe I just have to confirm a path. I wonder how I do that. I’ve started to see things differently lately. They seem much more contingent, or arbitrary or somethin.

Movement and action takes a certain amount of time or continuity. How do we do this? How do we account for this? Back to Libet. “There is no experimental evidence against the possibility that the control process may appear without prior unconscious processes (that specifically develop it).” I can’t remember what it was about Grice that I liked, a good feelin to be sure. But he sometimes did good deeds amid a throng of bad ones; he stole with furious rapacity, and gave liberally; intrepid in action, rather mild in company, debauched at table, gay in debauchery, and above all full of frankness. ... but are you aware that in Paris there have already been some serious experiments relating to the possibility of the insane by means of the simple influence of logical reasoning? When I looked up at the building, I got scarred. Looked more like a castle than a school - bars on the windows and an iron gate on the front door. Above the door, the words in the stone read: ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAY INCREASE THE RISK OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS OR ACTIONS IN CHILDREN AND TEENAGERS. Behind the school there were more trees in rows. I came round the corner, and my eyes saw something they didn’t know what to tell me it was. They were people -women, I think-

There was a certain professor there who died not so long ago, a serious scientist who believed that such a treatment was possible. If I say that Mirj is selfish because he refuses to become well, then what does that make me? The risk may be greater during the first few months that patients take this medicine. Be sure that the benefits of using this medicine outweigh the risks. Recording thoughts in language. “It’s very freeing”, apparently, instead of in anger or hurtful actions. They only ever hurt themselves. Maybe we’re all jus dancing all the time. Maybe those people are staring at me. Maybe they’re’adin my thoughts before I get to them. Maybe they’re passin them on to me. They think I’m copyin them down. They’re interrupting. They want me to move my existence. Well, that’s not going to happen any time soon, because I am an automatic weapon. I’m fully loaded and I’m ready to go. His basic idea was that there is nothing particularly wrong with the organism of the insane person, and that insanity is, as it were, a logical error, an error of judgement, a mistaken view of things. ADDITIONAL MONITORING OF YOUR DOSE OR CONDITION may be needed if you are taking certain diet medicines (such as phentermine), linezolid, lithium, metoclopramide, nefazodone reuptake inhibitors (SNRIs) (such as duloxetine), 5-HT1 receptor agonists (such as sumatriptan), tramadol, trazodone, nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory agents (NSAIDs) (such as ibuprofen), diuretics (such as furosemde or hydrochlorothiazide), cimetidine, ketoconazole, cyproheptadine, aripiprazole, haloperidol, phenothiazines (such as chlorpromazine or thiorridazine), or reperidone. He would refute the arguments of his patient step by step and, would you believe it, it’s said he achieved results that way! But in view of the fact that he accompanied this treatment with cold baths, those results should, of course, be viewed with some scepticism... All but four patients were right-handed according to the Edinburgh Inventory. Vision was normal or corrected to normal. Patients’ mean IQ, as estimated by the score at the Raven Progressive Matirices PM47, was 91.7. Short-term memory span was 6.4 and 3.5, forward and backwards, respectively. Language comprehension, as assessed by the Token Test was good (mean score 33.2/36). “Ha,” said I to myself, “it seems that there are some people who grow there,” and, as my mind was so stupefied with grief, I only conceived ideas as in a dream. Suddenly the van changed its course and I saw the towers of Notre-Dame in the distance, blue and half hidden in the smoke of Paris. At once my ideas changed from Beatrice to Notre-Dame. “Those who will be on the tower with the flag will see my execution well,” said I to myself smiling stupidly. They’re interrupting. Want me to move my chair, my body (my existence?). Well, it’s not going to happen.

“No physician’s prescriptions, no medicine seemed of the slightest benefit as a cure for this disease.”

2007-11-16T23:23:00.000-08:00

Nice way to start de fuckin day: lecture from de little ol’building manager. Moses gonna get an earful bout dis one. Of course, he’s right bout some things. But at least I got myself a good sleep der. Might as well go down to de Field, get an early start to my day.

“... symbolic gift means more than you initially believe... an extended period of calm...”

“We stayed at my place...”

“That’s really close to Crystal Ball... So fast-paced...”

“Wasn what I thought it would be.”

“Tell him to get his money back... of course, he doesn’t have his...”

“Where you grow an... thought bubbles and you can tell the story... That’s what the next level is: the story-telling language.”

“It’s...”

“Been watching movies and... Get up and go out to watch a movie.”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t get it.”

“So you’re talking about a platform...”

“The representation of story... individuals that you can meet... it’s like a toy box... computers can’t tell a story... If you could build a story... a system... the book is a story... exactly... modern... there’s... anyway, so seven different tribes... gives you all these different kinda classes...”

Fuck. Pretty hard for me not to take some o’dat shit personally. Gawd. Maybe I’ll just move on to somethin else.

“Do not confuse it with those chance dynamite outbreaks from Russia, which are really the outbreaks of the oppressed, if mistaken, men.”

“The main mass of their supporters are merely anarchists; that is, men who believe that rules and formulas have destroyed human happiness.”

“They believe that all the evil results of human crime are the results of the system that has called it crime.”

“They do not believe that the crime creates the punishment.”

“They believe that the punishment has created the crime.”

Now, da’s’omethin dat interests me.

2007-11-13T20:37:00.000-08:00

“We deny the snobbish English assumption that the uneducated are the dangerous criminals.”

“For similar reasons, Lewis praises certain African carvings.”

“You are not sufficiently democratic, but you were right when you said just now that our ordinary treatment of the poor criminal was a pretty brutal business.”

Lewis: “Under such conditions, the personality becomes a bullet-like lump; its emotions are clean, clear-cut; its art is hard, dense, packed with compressed energy.”

“You seem to equate the primitive artist’s isolating withdrawal from the ‘vagueness of space,’ with the Vorticist’s ‘egotistic hardening’ and withdrawal from the diluting effects of ‘Life’.”

“I tell you I am sometimes sick of my trade when I see how perpetually it means merely a war upon the ignorant and the desperate.”

Lewis again: “Primitive art reveals a personality contracted into itself from fear of dissolving in the vagueness of space.”

“Do you mean that there is really as much connection between crime and the modern intellect as all that?”

“Primitivism and modernism, savagery and art, meet in the Vortex.”

Lewis:”In that frame of mind, I conclude my rejection and belittling of ‘Life’ with an affirmation of hardness, energy, and violence of the Vortex.”

“We say that the dangerous criminal is the educated criminal.”

“Our Vortex is fed up with your dispersals, reasonable chicken-men.”

“Compared to him, burglars and bigamists are essentially moral men; my heart goes out to them.”

“Our Vortex is proud of its polished sides.”

“They accept the essential idea of man; they merely seek it wrongly.”

“Our Vortex will not hear of anything but its disastrous polished dance.”

“Thieves respect property.”

Man, dey gettin so heated-up today. Oh shit, Randt’s comin along. Hope he don’t fuck it up. I can tell already. He gonna fuck it up, soon as he opens his big fat mouth. I might as well jus walk away, cuz dis whole simulation’s gonna go to hell now. Goddammit Randt. Why’s it so easy for you to fuck my shit up. Every single fuckin time. Goddammit.

2007-11-06T10:36:00.000-08:00

Randt: “Granted it could always be a scam. Ain’t no people in the world who ain up for some kinda scam. Believe you me. But that don’t entail that there wasn some sorta truth to the proposition. That don’t entail that there wasn somethin real that they were pickin up. Miniscule alterations that you never noticed yerself, but were takin place none the less. “

Lewis proclaims, “The Vorticist does not suck up to Life. He lets Life know its place in a Vorticist Universe! He uses life for his brothel so that he can keep himself pure for non-life, that is Art.”

“Art, then becomes the contrasting force to Life.”

“Take Joe, for instance. Totally stuck in the eighties. He puts everyone into categories and gets so caught up in them that he totally forgets about people, like what real people are like. He's that whole Ringwald movie series all rolled into one. And the truth is, people just aren't like that anymore. Maybe its the drug movement, maybe it’s post-modern ecclecticism. Call it what you will, but the distinctions between different types of people have broken down.”

First I’m gonna try some classic Goffman (1961) on dis’ucker: “Staff members’ energy waxes and wanes. These involvement cycles occur when a staff member becomes close to some inmates, retreats, then builds warm relationships again.”

“No, I don get it.”

“Like, there are times when I really like the patients and I really want to work with them and help them. And then there are times when I get completely fed up with all of their crap. Don’t you get that?”

“...”

“When they are discouraged or despondent, they work in a listless, perfunctory, and routine way. Some make an effort to disguise their discouragement, but others do not.”

Randt is jus lookin at me kinda sideways, like he’s supposin dat dis a trick question or somethin, “I jus don’t think it’s the best time to be talkin bout that sorta thing, y’know, like when we’re actually surrounded by ‘the patients’. Y’know, like, we’re in the FIELD right now, man.”

Yeah, I guess he’s probly right bout that one. Somehow dat jus didn’t occur to me. I dunno why. Maybe i’s cuz I turned Maro off, or somethin. Thing is dat I don really get any other chance to talk to Randt. I only see him in de FIELD an sometimes at d’occasional Board Meetin. What am I s’posed to do, get’im to make an appointment?

“Some o’de patients ask to switch counselors when dey have conflicts wid’individual to whom dey bin assigned.”

“What is this about, man? You know I don’t get any patients assigned to me.”

Randt jus goes back to his usual shit, now.

Ok, so maybe I’ll try some Leibniz, den, “I know what you sayin, Nominal Definition: consists of de numeration o’the marks o’requisites which are sufficient to distinguish a thing from all others.”

I got de feelin he ain gonna like dat one too much.

“You can jus fuck right off. You don even kno’what you talkin bout. See ya later, sucker.”

Guess I’m on my own, now. De patients’till goin on.

“Even Time dissolves in the presence of Art. Life is the Past and the Future, the Present is Art.”

Man, where’d’ey boil up dis bile o’shit from? I’m gonna reply wid some real quality, “It is its time because it puts in the present, just as each acting subject is his time, that is, a presence that puts in the present whatever is related to it.”

Haa ha. Take that. Got that one from good old Henry Corbin.

Lewis insists, “There is no Present - there is a Past and Future, and there is Art.”

Dat is’uch bullshit. Might as well be talkin to Randt. I’ll try some more Corbin, but I don’t’hink i’s gonna get me anywhere. “It is likewise to reduce real time to abstract physical time, to the essentially quantitative time which is that of the objectivity of mundane calendars from which the signs that gave a sacred qualification to every present have disappeared.”

“For the sake of Art artists must reject society; for, in society, men ‘overlap’ and ‘intersect’, and promiscuity is normal.”

“But promiscuity is normal.”

“Artists must undergo a course of egotistic hardening before they can produce hard outside art.”

Dis d’art dat Lewis admires most. I oughtta be referrin dis guy to JoseF.

“Woodcuts are disciplined, blunt, thick and brutal.”

Or maybe I could get’im to meet up wid a student somehow. Maybe I should just enroll’im in one o’JoseF’s classes.

2007-10-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

“... They alighted on the eternal questions, but went up in a gust of hot air.”

“Vorticism, in fact, was what I, personally, did and said, at a certain period.”

“Would you believe it, Rod? Last night they got on to the question of whether there’s such a thing as crime or not! I told you they were talking a devil of a lot of nonsense!”

“BUT in conversation with Ezra Pound there emerged the idea of defining what WE wanted & having a name for it.”

“What’s so extraordinary about it? It’s a social problem you hear discussed all the time.”

“Ultimately Gaudier for sculpture, Ezra Pound for poetry, and Wyndham Lewis, the prime mover, set down their personal requirements.”

“Not in the terms in which they were formulating it.”

“Wyndham Lewis certainly MADE Vorticism...”

“You can say that again. I say, Rod: listen and give me your opinion. I want to hear it. I nearly burst a blood-vessel arguing with them last night before you arrived, I couldn’t wait for you to get there; I’d told them you were coming... What sparked it off was when we started talking about the view of the socialists. It’s a view that is well-known: crime is a protest against the craziness of the social system - and that’s all there is to it, no more than that, and no other reasons conceded - so it doesn’t matter!...”

“’Vorticism’ now seems more a period label than an aesthetic programme.”

“Here comes the nonsense again!”

“What, then, was Vorticism? The question has been asked, and answered, before.”

“Take JoE, for instance. Totally stuck in the eighties. He puts everyone into categories and gets so caught up in them that he totally forgets about people, like what real people are like. He's that whole Ringwald movie series all rolled into one. And the truth is, people just aren't like that anymore. Maybe it's the drug movement, maybe it’s post-modern ecclecticism. Call it what you will, but the distinctions between different types of people have broken down.”

I’d totally forgotten dat dis conversation was going on between patients, dat is til Randt came back an opened his ignorant mouth. But I ain got nothin to add’is time. I’m jus happy to sit back and observe, cept for de very real fact dat I’m d’one runnin dis’imulation. De rest jus totally ignorin Randt anyway, which I find hilarious.

“What is Vorticism? Well, like Futurism, and Imagisme, and Cubism, essentially it is nonsense. But it is more important than these other fantastic, artistic, and literary movements because it is their sure conclusion.”

“N-no other reasons are conceded! It’s not nonsense!... I can show you the books they have: they put it all down to being ‘a prey to one’s surroundings’ - and that’s it! It’s their favourite expression! From that it follows directly that if only society were to be organized sanely, crime would simply disappear, as there would be nothing to protest about and everyone would become virtuous, just like that.”

“What was Vorticism? The answer could only be - a slogan.”

“Nature isn’t taken into consideration, nature is banished, nature is not supposed to exist. The way they see it, it’s not mankind which, moving along a historical, living path of development, will finally transmute itself into a sane society, but rather a social system which, having emanated from some mathematical head, will at once reorganize the whole of mankind and in a single instant make it virtuous and free from sin, more speedily than any living process, bypassing any historical or living path!”

“Vorticism... What does this word mean? I do not know.”

“That is why they have such an instinctive dislike of history.”

“One man’s doings, group designation, personal requirements, period label, nonsense, slogan, enigma - all of these must be accounted for in answering the question.”

“It’s nothing but a catalogue of outrages and follies.”

“What was Vorticism?”

Well, dis a fascinatin time in de Field an all, but I'm gonna get on over to JoseF's class now.

2007-10-22T22:04:00.000-07:00

Here I am, yet again, monitoring de testimonial transfer of information. How is this format beneficial to de student? In particular, d’international students, cuz lord knows, da’s where de money is.

“C’mon, folks! If we were going any slower, we’d be going backwards! Is anyone awake out there? Texts embody and describe personal... routines...”

Alluva sudden, Derek Eidick pipes up.

“What about Aime Cesaire?”

JoseF jus gives’im a questionin look, so Derek continues.

“Yeah, in 1939 he published this searing long poem ‘Cahier d’un retour au pays natal’. He wrote of his native Martinique, colonial oppression, rediscovered African sources...”

Who is dis freaking kid?

“He even coined the term ‘Negritude’.”

Is dat a good thing?

“Oh yes, I know to whom you’re referring! Excellent example. His poetry was written in the language of Lautreamont and Rimbaud, but it was a French spattered with neologisms, punctuated by new rhythms. For Cesaire, a ‘native land’ was something complex and hybrid, salvaged from a lost origin, constructed out of a squalid present, articulated within and against a colonial tongue. Yes, we should definitely take a look at him... autobiographical... intervention of technique... cut-up from Dadaists... associative riffs... elements and moments... repetition... loops... unattributed quotes... Roland Barthes... zeroing... carnival of dislocations... attempt to break down authority... hierarchy... meaning... linear order... tease us into recognizing meaningless universe... all meaning is contingent and personal... rise and dominence of pop culture... playfulness... radical skepticism... decomposition... subversion... the word no longer the central core... image... radical tone is skepticism... Deconstructionism... structuralism: De Saussere... 1906-11... A course in general linguistics... initiated critical momentum... semiotics... structuralism... post-structuralism... deconstructionism... critique of language rests on the sign...”

Oh, gawd, I hate that stupid signifier/signified bullshit! I feel’ike I’ve never heard a stupider idea.

“language reflects ourselves... subjective constructs that cloud the world... terms are interchangeable... words drift in meaning... diachronic vs. synchronic... 1915-1980: Roland Barthes... philosophical focus to culture.. world interpretive matrix of signs... writing degree... mythology... interdisciplinary focus... Jacques Derrida... writing indifference... feminism... deconstructing authority... male-dominated theoretical structure... Pop Culture... war between content and artist... not transparent... it’s a game... Kathy Acker... Empire of the Senseless... banned... Why girls like to fuck... short story... written to theory novel of ideas European tradition... deconstructionist novel... anti-literature... conventions, language exploded... collage...”

Mr. Derek Eidick is piping up again. Kid’s got a lot on his mind today.

“Sex refers to the differences, both biological and anatomical, between males and females, while gender is thought of as a cultural phenomenon, which society has constructed around the meanings of femininity and masculinity...”

He kinda peters out der, but JoseF picks up on de thread.

“Are you saying that gender is more of a choice, while sex is something that society assigns?”

“Well, gender is more complex than sex. It is more ambiguous and changes over time.”

“I understand what you’re saying. We’ll get into that in more detail next week... violent dada... attack on authority... end of the fathers... incest... sexual abuse... responsible for an approach... outlaw genre... make novel something new... back to De Sade... outlaw... anti-literary obsessive... sexuality... body is battlefield... taboos... body artwork...”

Somehow dis been too much for one girl. She must be havin a bad time. Tears are streamin down her face. She picks up her books and leaves de room. Hmm... Who is dat? Present files indicate:

Silence by Shannan Laktin

I thought I was alone

Until I spoke my secret shame

And saw the tears

That stung my lips

In eyes that were not mine

I heard my secret fears

On other tongues

And found my power In the first touch

In the first trust

After the violence inflicted

For being

Woman

I better check-up on dat one later. JoseF is’tunned, but he carries on.

“Genet... deconstruct how one reads language subject... post-modern... (Cormac McCarthy - most significant post-war author)... language as a force... not transparent... seeing it as a construction... language as a power structure... writing on human flesh... paternity... avusive power... ruined landscape pollution for profit... restriction and anarchy... a discipline in itself... dissolving landscape... Beckett... explores obscenity... theme of apocalypse... pollution... nature of bosses... aging fathers reassuring, while selling us out... outsider... body as theatre... how one sets oneself apart... love... breaking down structures of life ”

Whoa, man, I hardly ever hear dis guy talk bout ‘love’.

“live beyond norms of society... renewal... nihilism... worship of commodities... obsession with possession... Sylvia Plath... deconstruct... take everything to zero... once acheiving the zero, rebuild, renew, reconstruct...”

2007-10-14T14:00:00.000-07:00

“Prufrock... world is troubled... crisis poems... linkages...inward, private movement... ‘Wasteland’... he sees this disappearing... Universe is a richer place than we know and we’ve lost this feeling... ‘Four Quartets’: theme of time, redemption of time... The end of Modernism... no definite ending... Modernism still with us... new sciences and technology... psychoanalysis ended modern period... no longer producers but consumers... much irony instead of earnestness... Gertrude Stein (playing with language against its meaning) and Hemingway ended Modernism... Hemingway was the antithesis to Modernism... nostalgia and retro fashion was the seal on the tomb of modernism... Media has shrunk space and time... telephone collapses space and time... history leaking back into the present... end of history... post-modern culture is becoming aware of self as a culture... ”

Now I’m considering Alonzo Church. What does he think of Tarski? Or maybe Russell’s Paradox? Gawd, that would sure be nice to know. Le’s check up on Kretschmar for a minute, shall we? Ohhhh, quotin Moustakas again, like a fucking mantra:

“As the relationship between the child and therapist is clarified...”

Jus like butter. ha ha.

“...strengthened, the child’s deeper feelings of hostility become gradually sharpened and more specific.”

Hmmm... Very interesting and yet, somehow I jus don’t care right now. Le’s check up on my status in London-town again. Yes, I’m dissociatin again... But at least I’m doin somethin useful. ha ha ha... Le’s’ee... Alonzo Church... What can we dig up on him while dis here lecture is going on. Oh, wait a second. I forgot bout how Alonzo Church is totally full o’shit. A logistic system with an assignment o’meaning to its expressions? Whateva... Godel! For chrissake! Didn’t he study any Godel whatsoever? Was Alonzo Church actually thinkin that he could turn natural language into a formal system o’some kind? What a laugh... I wonder what that ‘paradox of analysis’ is. Hmmm... Frege, eh? I know a couple of experts on Frege. Is his notion o’function really that problematic?

Hold on. Is that an alarm going off somewhere? Hmmm...

Hey, dis ain London callin, i’s Munich.

“Visual search is a key paradigm in attention research that has proved to be a test bed for competing theories of selective attention. The starting point for most current theories of visual search has been Treisman’s ‘feature integration theory’ of visual attention (e.g., Treisman and Gelade, 1980). A number of key issues that have been raised in attempts to test this theory are still pertinent questions of research today...”

He goes on to assume a lot regarding ‘function’ here. I wonder if he’s ever read any Frege.

“A key paradigm in attention research, that has proved to be a test bed for competing theories of selective attention, is visual search. In the standard paradigm, the observer is presented with a display that can contain a target stimulus amongst a variable number of distractor stimuli. The total number of stimuli is referred to as the display size. The target is either present or absent, and the observers’ task is to make a target-present vs. target-absent decision as rapidly and accurately as possible. (Alternatively, the search display may be presented for a limited exposure duration, and the dependent variable is the accuracy of target detection.)”

2007-10-06T16:28:00.000-07:00

“Modernist movement... blast manifesto... Eliot would not be enlisted... innovations, masking, neo-classical, remaking of other’s poems... technical wizardry... preeminent poet of suffereing... epic journey... haunting clarity... dislocation... mystic wholeness...Thomas Stearns Eliot... born 1885, in St. Louis... state of Missouri... (home of another great writer, William S. Burroughs)... family was full of clergy and teachers... He went to Harvard in 1906... taught school in London... became a clerk in a bank... 1915... Vivienne Haywood... married... breakdown... 1920s ‘Wasteland’... Paris... Pound... editing... 1925... editor, director at publishers ‘Faber and Faber’... British subject... 1948 Nobel Prize... 1950s best known poet... 1964 died of emphysema... married again... Valerie Eliot... happy marriage... plays... just listen to... voice from the depths of struggle... uses classical forms... long poems... assemblage of lyrics... or tightly united?”

He’s lookin round but none here is prepared to answer his question. Dey all jus fallin asleep to de lull of his voice.

“Ahmm... ‘Prufrock’... musical echoes... sounds... reverberations... poet of emotion... prose against classic... technique... plays with language... coherence of images... ‘Wasteland’ and ‘Four Quartets’...”

He writin somethin on de board now.

“5 Divisions of Rhetoric: 1)Invention 2)Disposition 3)Elocution 4)Memory/Recall 5)Delivery

Hey, kids! Wake-up! We’re not talking about pizza here. We’re talking about a sequential outward movement... public... retrieving older forms...”

What a long way dis guy has come. I can hardly believe it myself, lookin back at de stuff he used to write.

Ferries for the Soul

“Fairy” is inaccurate: It’s several letters off.

I tell you, gays are ferries for the soul.

Between the banks of yin and yang we operate, and cross

Biology to keep the genders whole,

As each contains its opposite - A “fairy” is that bridge

Between the male and female which allows

The two to interact outside the principle of marriage,

Existing as a necessary flaw.

Well, dat was back when he was JoD, I guess. Long time ago.

OH, you’re right, Maro. Gotta get goin to dat Board Meetin.

2007-09-30T21:41:00.000-07:00

Ted R. works in private practice and has also worked as a consultant to MSB-Health Canada -- Medical Services Branch, Ministry of Health and Social Services, P.W.A. Society, Workers Compensation Board.

Louisa G. is a counsellor at the Police Department under the Canadian Association of Sexual Assault Centres.

Ahh, maybe not. Looks like she havin a good laugh wid an ex-chancellor, too rich for my blood. The Warden, de Sub-Warden. De Vices. All a lotta fuckin big wigs. Da’s for damn sure. An I feel like I ain one o’dem at all. Wha da hell’m I doin here, anyway? Big business junkies an de like. Looks like everyone’s jus bout here. Der is a large, large woman and I’m havin trouble figurin out what her role (heh-heh) is here. She don seem to fit (heh-heh) in here, either. Stumblin, limpin aroun.

Guess I better get myself a seat. I’m gonna try sittin beside the Cock for a change. He’s sorta surrounded by student reps here, but I see an empty seat.

“No room! No room!”

Da’s ridiculous. Fuckin racist or some shit. Der’s all kindsa room. Jus cuz dey gotta hole up in one corner o’de room doesn mean no one else can join dem. Fuck. I useta be a studen’too y’know. I feel’ike tellin’em to fuck right off, but instead I jus’tart lookin for somewhere else to sit. Fuck it. I’m sittin wid’e students. Der’s nowhere else to sit, an I can tell da’the meetin is bout to start. Dey’ll jus hafta deal. No, wait. I guess I can sit nex’to d’ex-chancellor, maybe an de beautiful dentist. Dat wouldn be so bad afterall.

“Ahh, der’s plenty o’room.” I tell those fuckin studens, an den I go to d’other end o’de room. Right in de midst of all de big-wigs. D’ex-chancellor is right beside me. He’s lookin me up an’down.

“Have some wine,” he says openin up his jacket as I sit down. I see a flask in der. He’s takin it out discreetly an offerin it to me. He’s holdin it right up to my face. It seems pretty empty to me, an from de smell it was somethin a little stronger dan wine dat was in it in de first place.

“I don see any wine, man,” I’m sayin to him.

“There isn’t any,” he says with a very kooky kinda smile. How old is dis guy anyway? He looks like he’s bout 102 years of age.

“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” says some kinda businessman on de other side o’me.

“It wasn very civil of YOU to sit down without bein’vited,” d’ex-chancellor is sayin to de businessman wid a wink at me. Maybe dis guy ain so bad afterall.

“I didn’t know this was YOUR row, John,” de businessman is bout to lose his temper.

“Cut your hair,” d’ex-chancellor snaps back. Dis is pretty funny cuz de businessman looks a bit like an old hippy ‘cept for his suit. He got all kindsa beeds an tattoos an stuff, not to mention a great big head o’long hair. I figure I better break in before things get outta hand.

“Hey, guys. Le’s not get into de personal remarks, ok?”

D’hippy businessman is openin his eyes very wide an den they suddenly become all squinty-like an small. He’s bout to say somethin to me, but a loud bout o’raucous laughter interrupts him. Someone nearby is tellin jokes.

“Then the patient says, ‘I coulda been a psychopath.’ So, I say, ‘Don’t worry. If you’re wrong, you won’t lose your head.’ Haa haaa haaa.” De guy is laughin so hard, he’s just about chokin.

Now de name tags bein propped up on de table. I’s funny cuz dey got dis huge-like table from medieval times or somethin, but d’whole Board is all crunched at one’nd of it. Now we see how up to date dem websites really is. Connectin the dots: the relations between all dese people. Can’t quite be read. But it look like de lovely Ms. Inwest Investments Inc. ain gonna make it today, unless she’s jettin in late. I’s gettin called to order now. Der’s gonna be another presentation today.

“Clearly, there is less opportunity for people with less money to find alternative services that are usually much more expensive when they are provided by the private sector... Overall, it has not been a good exercise for the city-state to go through.”

Dis all seems a little familiar somehow. Le’s consult Maro.

“Support the objectives of the institution… if that can’t be done then the institution will not thrive… the office does all that… look at the technologies being offered to us.”

Some slides are projected up in front of us in order to prove a point: commercialization activities. "What technologies are commercializable… downtown incubator… Angel Network of Investors…” Showin der wares.

“The economics of this city… based on international…”

-36 invention disclosures

-26 new patent applications filled

-5 new patents issued

The bottom line: $15.7 million in revenues generated.

I dunno. I wonder if da’s all a little too technical for some o’de people on de Board. Oh, holdup. I think somethin’s bout to go down here. I can feel things heatin up.

“The woman running the station was a little disappointed at the level of contributions.”

It’s Ange Wardrop, a professor in the Department o’Psychology.

But psychologists have long been aware o’dismal aspects of human behaviour: people are more honest if dey know dey’re bein observed - when’obody’s watchin, dey feel dey can get away wid murder, or at least a free cup o’coffee. Dis problem gave Wardrop and two colleagues an idea for an experiment. For 10 weeks one spring, dey alternately taped two posters over de coffee station. Durin one week, it was a picture o’flowers; durin d’other, it was a pair of starin eyes. Den they sat back to watch what would happen. A remarkable pattern emerged. Durin da weeks when d’eyes poster stared’own at de coffee station, coffee an tea drinkers contributed 2.76 times as much money as in de weeks when flowers graced’e wall. Apparently, da mere feeling o’bein watched - even by eyes dat were patently not real - was enough to encourage people to behave honestly. Wardrop says she was’tunned: “We kind of thought there might be a subtle effect. We weren’t expecting such a large impact.”

Dis paper prompted’e Townsend police department to slap’osters of eyes everywhere as part of a campaign called “We’ve Got Our Eyes on Criminals.” De researchers’tudied de campaign to see if de posters had an effect on crime and vandalism... and so on an so forth. But dat was years ago. I wonder why all dat is comin up today.

Are you aware of any personal characteristics or difficulties that may make pursuing counsellor training difficult for you at this time? Please elaborate.

Counselling Psychology Master’s student Ange Wardrop, age 26, won’t say how many partners she’s slept with. It’s not that she’s embarrassed, or coy, or even particularly modest. She’s happy to share that the average number among her age group is about 10 partners each. Also, she confided that she lost her virginity at 18, roughly one year after the Townsend average for girls. Wardrop recounted that even in her liberal, educated peer group, there are still seemingly random standards. Eyebrows raise, for example, if a woman says she’s had more than a dozen partners - especially if that number includes one-night stands. Her group expects men, however to experience between 20 and 40 sexual partners.

Wardrop, who grew up near Townsend City Hall, recalled that she and her friends were deluged with state-sponsored information about STDs and safe sex. However, she didn’t find out that sex is emotionally affecting - until she tried it all out in her early 20s. She also noted that in mapping its sexual norms, her group had little help from official sources.

“I read Cosmo for all the sex stuff,” she admitted, pointing out that popular culture fills in de gaps. “It’s [pop culture] one of the only open forums for talking about sex and making it acceptable for talking about sex.”

Wardrop has found another way: pole dancing.

“I know of nowhere else I can go where I can publicly express my sexuality in a fun, supported way,” said the Goh Ballet-trained instructor. If pole dancing endures, it’ll be one more tool for young women to help navigate the complicated world of sexual decision-making.

2007-09-20T20:49:00.000-07:00

The girls will sit at their tables. They will let the men across from them gaze into their gorgeous eyes. Is this for admiration? No, they are too young. This is for practise and nothing else, you must understand. That is, unless there is a lapse of good judgement on the part of the young women (which there often is on the part of young women). In this case, the young women may be raped, molested, vivisected and distributed around the neighbourhood. However on this day, these girls in particular will not fall prey to the regular sexual predators. These girls are too good for that. Can't you tell by their dress?
Without invitation, he pulls up a chair opposite us. "Hey ladies, what's shaking?"
"Of course you are," Jose says.
I shoot her a sideways look. "Hey man, I'm Prin. This is Jose."
"Pleasure," he says, his smile stretched too tightly. "So like, you two are regulars here, right? So, I guess that means you're, um, you know..."
"No," Jose says, makin him work for it, "we don't."
He leans over, lowering his voice to a near whisper.
"Oh wait, I got it!" Jose exclaims. "You want to know if we've got that special something, right?"
I kick her under the table, hard. But once Jose gets goin, she never breaks stride. She reaches across de table an takes de man by de hand. "Well baby, you better get us while you can."
By de shade o'grey de man turns, I can tell dat he done jus lost his courage.
"Um, really? That's... cool," he says, finding his feet.
"Sexy," Jose mouths slowly in a loud stage whisper.
"Hey, you know, I gotta get back. Friends. Bar. Nice meeting ya..."
Jose blows him a kiss. "Hasta luego, SUGAR!"
"Jesus," I say. "Sometimes you're a real jerk."
Now, are these my thoughts, or JoseF’s? JoseF’s, o’course, though his mind doesn’t hardly ever correspond to what he’s really lookin at. By comparison, mine would go more along de lines of: De girls will sit at der table. Dey will let da men across from dem gaze into der gorgeous eyes. Is dis for admiration? No, dey are too young. Dis for practise an’othing else, you must understand. Dey learning how to wrestle for power an dis is de safest place to do it.

2007-09-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

JoseF walks on to de Field wearin slippers an a smokin jacket. He sits down an lights a smoke. He continues to light cigarette after cigarette, inhalin each one in between comments an de jottin down of ideas. He sits back an crosses his legs. JoseF watches from a distance an lets his mind do the complainin. At de same table, on a differen day, I can recall Prin sittin an restrainin herself from disclosin all her secrets. But once again, I digress. I must focus on today’s earth-shatterin, mind-numbin non-events, on whatever is happenin before me. Les’ee.

SPY #060997 007

REPORT #2

DAILY OBSERVATIONS:

There’s quite a few ravens around here.

One of my teachers is pregnant. I hope she doesn’t pick me to hate.

DRILL EXCERCISE

This pretend mission came from my grandfather, well, I guess not directly. See, he mentioned in a letter that he used to come to Chicago pretty often on business trips a long time ago. He stayed at a hotel called the Knickerbocker. He looked on my mom's street map of Chicago when she got back but I guess he couldn't find where it was supposed to be. So, that's what I'm going to do. It's not a real mission because there's really no point in it but it's good practice. Anyway, I just wanted to request permission to pursue this course of action.

“So, this is his second report?”

“Yep.”

“And you believe there is some sort of literary merit to this sort of thing?”

“Yep.”

“Hmmm... Yes, yes. Of course, you’re right. I just had tea and chocs with my mad uncle. Did I tell you that he’s in here? Life here is pretty easy and removed from the world. My Nan fusses over him night and day. Does K Jan have anyone to fuss over him? Well, I guess that’s your department, isn’t it. My uncle’s gained 10lbs for sure. He scribbles out his bad dreams. He feels sure that bad men are going to get him. He watches too many British soaps. Maybe words aren’t really the thing for K Jan. Perhaps what he needs is a good camera.”

“I don’think so.”

“No? Hmmmm... So this young fellow stabbed one of his counsellors, you say?”

“Well, I didn say that, actually...”

“Well, I’ll take him. I’m strong. I’m healthy, though I’m not sure how the whole thing will end up.”

2007-08-20T12:42:00.000-07:00

And once again, he interrupts his own speech to start talkin bout Spark.

“He turned pro when he was really young. After making enough from the sport to afford his own house while he was still in his early teens, he watched the fat paycheques begin to dry up a few years later. I didn’t really put anything in it that wasn’t already in some issue of Sports Illustrated, or the New Yorker or Rolling Stone, though. He was profiled exhaustively in those mags, back in the day, that is. Well, anyway...”

“Hey, man, so where’s de report?”

I’s funny cuz he was so excited bout it, so eager to bring his’hit in, but dis time he missed his own deadline.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure.”

He starts uploading it. Little freak was’posed to have it to me before dis here appointment. What de fuck.

To tell you the truth, I hate writing. I don't trust words at all, see. This probably sounds like some sort of foppery coming from someone who's just invested half an hour of his valuable time filling up pages with scrawl. Well, you know I'm thinking that my life story will be worth a lot some day, so I want to make sure I get it all down. I can see it now, "The story of a small town boy who makes it big in some faraway city".

Dis’eems familiar to me, somehow, like I done read it before.

Words just get you into trouble. If I had a choice I wouldn't use them at all. They are inadequate to the bone. Yeah, that'll be me, alright. As soon as I graduate I'm kickin the dust of this stupid, wasteland of a town off my feet and gettin outta here. Of course, right now no one knows this but me.

De boy is’till fantasizin, like as though’is life is completely different, somehow. He ain going on bout Chicago, though, no more. I dunno whether dis’ progress or not.

You know what though? As much as I hate words, I'm always talking to myself in my head. I mean it. You wouldn't guess it because I usually have very little to say in real life. But, you could pick any moment of the day and I can guarantee you I would have a running commentary going on inside of me about whatever is going on outside of me. People say it's okay to talk to yourself just as long as you don't answer yourself. But, if you ask a question that no one else can answer sooner or later you're the one who's going to have to come up with a response.

He gettin a bit philosophical der.

“So, K Jan, you still thinkin dat you gonna get outta Townsend one day, huh?”

“OK. AHEMMM... Spencer. He's got dis wizard keyboard talent.... AHEM. He been tryin to get a band together... AHEM... for the past three years. But no matter who he gets they never stick it out long enough to get anywhere. He even created these special earphones that sample background noise in yer immediate vicinity and then mix them with whatever it is that yer listening to. He wants to make them so that they can imitate any given pop song, just using surrounding ambient sounds. I was supposed to sing for them a while back but it didn't work out. That's just it. No one ever gets anything accomplished around here. They'd practise and sound really good for a little while and then go their seperate ways. Then they'd get back together and start all over. The deal was that I would buy the vocal equipment, y’know the P.A. an everything, and they'd let me join their band. I could be the next Henry Rollins or somethin. But I wasn't prepared to invest in a band that might be shot over in a matter of days.”

“You know what? I think you’d be a great songwriter. In fact, I’m gonna refer you to another counsellor who does writin workshops. His name is JoseF.”

“You tryin to get rid o’me, eh?”

“No, you keep up yer’egular appointments wid me. I’m jus givin you extra homework.”

He’smilin like he actually likes de sound o’dat. Maybe he jus needs’ome more attention.

“I want you to show all yer writin to JoseF. An he’s gonna give you his opinion. Maybe he can help you to do somethin wid’it some day.”

“Tha’s fuckin cool, man.”

“Glad you like my idea.”

Both fuckin JoseF an K Jan are fuckin handfuls. Be interestin to observe how dey gonna handle one another.

“I’ll want a full report o’course.”

Me’n K Jan jus laugh.

2007-08-10T12:44:00.000-07:00

What’s the difference between that which is alive and that which isn’t?

Consciousness and Cognition:

“Crick and Koch (1990) have proposed that gamma-band synchronous oscillatory activities of neurons in visual cortex constitute the neural correlate of visual awareness.”

-I wouldn go so far as to use the term “awareness” but they definitely on to somethin, of course

recounted how Koch had come up the stairs and knocked, followed by the student, describing everything they had said to each other;

C and C:

“It should be noted at this point that when we speak of ‘visual awareness’, we are referring to the sensory awareness of the visual surround and that recognition of objects within that surround is not directly implied.”

-well, dat much is good

Dretske’s back again:

“How much info a message carries is not a function of how much info the recipient thinks it carries. It is a function, simply, of the actual possibilities that exist and the conditional probabilities of these various possibilities after the message has been received.”

-what does this have to do with anything? how can we differentiate the actual possibilities from the ones that we only think exist? I suppose this has everything to do with awareness.

C and C:

“Crick and Koch (1990, 1994) have argued that there are two forms of visual awareness, one brief and transitory and the other associated with selective visual attention. They believe that the latter form, coupled with short-term memory, mediates vivid awareness, but that in the absence of fleeting awareness, our visual environment would have the appearance of a tunnel, in which the current focus of attention appears in vivid detail and everything else is either invisible or hazy.”

Koch stayed behind and gently moved the bell-pull once again; the bell gave a single clank.

DRETSKE:

“The receiver of the signal may be more interested in one piece of info than he is in any other, he may succeed in extracting one piece of information without another.”

C and C:

“If synchronous oscillatory neuronal activities constitute the neural correlate of consciousness, and we know that these activities are not restricted to the cortex, then there is no reason to suppose that subcortical synchronous oscillations should not participate in awareness.”

Before we left the fire to go in we had to study te sky: the weather, the stars.

“They just pop your spine with a little hydro-gun... Now. Let me see. To get an illegal unregistered bioport installed at about midnight - we just drive up to your local country gas station, right?”

The atmosphere, April told us, would have an immense influence on how the next few days would unfold. For instance, I could go ask someone at a gas station for directions. After consulting and conferring with one another, April and her friends concluded that our stay would prove to be particularly spiritually enlightening (especially for you, she added, pointing to me with a simultaneous wink).

“You still operate a gas station, don’t you?”

“Only on the most pathetic level of reality.”

The attendant says, “Oh yeah. I know where that is.”

“Those are sterilized aren’t they?”

“Not to worry, the way they set things up, you could fire in a bioport in a slaughterhouse and never generate an infection.”

This is somehow comforting?

A list of directions. I copy them down diligently on a scrap piece of paper.

“Oops. I got that all wrong. I was thinking of somewhere else.”

Begins again with another list of directions.

“This is it, you see. This is the cage of your own making which keeps you trapped and pacing about in the smallest possible space forever.”

DRETSKE:

“But these differences are irrelevant to the info the signal contains. As the example indicates, a receiver’s background knowledge is relevant to the info he receives (both how much info and what info). A system’s intentional states drive their content, not from the appropriateness or inappropriateness of their effects on the system’s output but from their information-carrying role - from the sort of situation they were developed to represent.”

Davidson maintains that a similar problem, one that he calls ‘radical interpretation’, occurs between two speakers of the same language. Because we cannot be sure that the meaning of a speaker’s utterance will match the meaning that an interpreter will take, it is necessary to assume that something else must be at work when the process of interpretation takes place. There must be something in place that allows a speaker and an interpreter to assume understanding of one another’s utterances.

What is the primary level of explanation in the understanding of delusion?

E. DAPRATI et al.: “Verbal hallucinations seem to be liable to this explanation. According to Frith (1996), the normal mechanism for attributing thought to its internal origin would be a comparison between the executive commands leading to speech and the anticipated sensory consequences of these commands.”

CREUTZFELDT et al: “Normally, execution of the speech motor commands implies that the related sensory signals will be inhibited.”

E. DAPRATI et al.: “During verbal hallucinations in schizophrenic patients, by contrast, the sensory areas for language remain active, which suggests that the cancellation process does not operate. The nervous system in these patients behaves as if it were actually processing the speech of an external speaker. Hence their perception of their own thinking as originating from the outside world.”

Hmmm.

Davidson maintains that as long as an atomistic approach is taken to theories of truth and meaning, it will be impossible to determine what mechanism allows speaker and interpreter to assume comprehension of one another’s utterances. Neurobiological, cognitive, intentional?

The only way to understand how radical interpretation takes place is to assume that meaning, belief, and truth, FUNCTION in relation to one another. In other words, these concepts must FUNCTION together in a holistic manner.

DAVIDSON: “A speaker holds a sentence to be true because of what the sentence (in his language) means, and because of what he believes.”

Are delusions disorders of the self or disorders of reality monitoring?

Uh-oh. Here comes Kretschy, monitoring me again, o’course. Probly just received my report or somethin.

KRETSCHMAR: “A delusion is defined as a false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly sustained despite what all most everyone else believes, and despite what constitutes incontrovertible evidence to the contrary.”

C’mon Carey, save me from dis tedious bullshit.

ME: It would seem that a large part of our seeing an object AS of this or that shape or nature is integral to the act of visual perception, and likewise for the other senses.

Speaking o’delusions, here she is, de girl o’d’hour. You know her. You love her. You can’t get enough of her: Carey.

There are witches. I feel like they are trying to groom me, woo me and my friends over to their side. They have me in their midst, their grips and I feel that there is some evil that is threatening to take me over. It is much worse than they are. I am being cultivated. There are scenes of Hell, showing people being punished for their sins. My grandmother points out a clay figure whose tongue is being pulled out at least a foot while simultaneously being cut up by by two devils with spiky hair standing on end like hedgehogs and eyes bulging like frogs. The man being tortured had been a liar in his previous life, she said - and this was what would happen to me if I told lies.

Seems like she might actually get into things today, instead of all dat stupid sex talk she usually does. Interesting. Maybe she felt at an early age that she really had to believe in her own lies in order to avoid severe punishment. Maybe. Hmm. Somethin bout’his reminding me of a dream I once had. I am somewhere close to the state line. The other I is actually still somewhere in Chicago, scratchin litter into a wall most-likely. MALEBOLGE: amphitheatre for lectures (much like the ones used in old-fashioned days to dissect bodies, etc.). In the first instance, discipline sometimes requires enclosure, the specification of a place heterogeneous to all others and closed in upon itself. It is the protected place of disciplinary monotony. One must eliminate the effects of imprecise distributions, the uncontrolled disappearance of individuals, their diffuse circulation, their unusable and dangerous coagulation. Its aim was to establish presences and absences, to know where and how to locate individuals, to set up useful communications, to interrupt others, to be able to at each moment, too, supervise the conduct of each individual, access it, judge it, calculate its qualities or merits. It is a procedure, therefore, aimed at knowing, mastering and using. Observe their presence and absence and constitute a general and permanent register. How one was to distribute patients, separate them from one another, divide up the hospital space and make a systematic classification of diseases: these were all twin operations in which the two elements - distribution and analysis, supervision and intelligibility - are inextricably bound up. Kretschmar is quoting Foucault again. “Discipline is an art of rank, a technique for the transformation of arrangements. It individualizes bodies by a location that does not give them a fixed position, but distributes them and circulates them in a network of relations.” Discipline and Punishment

“The table is both a technique of power and a procedure of knowledge. It is a question of organizing the multiple, of providing oneself with an instrument to cover it and to master it; it is a question of imposing order.”

Hey, where’d Carey go? I’s almost as though Kretschy scared her away or somethin. But’hat’s impossible, right? unknown territory. I know that a path can be made. So, to get to a point dat is out of dis world maybe I just have to confirm a path. I wonder how I do that. Movement and action takes a certain amount of time or continuity. How do we do this? How do we account for this? Back to Libet. “There is no experimental evidence against possibility that the control process may appear without prior unconscious processes (that specifically develop it).”

I’s like Carey jus’totally disappeared. How did that happen?!

2007-07-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

So, I guess I’ve got some thinking an reasonin to do. First of all, why is it that humans value life so much, even at de’xpense o’de quality o’dat life? Seems like i’s’omethin dey jus programmed to do. Why propagate? What are dey stayin alive for? Dey will go extinct jus like every species eventually goes extinct, though it may take a good 400 million years for it to happen. I seriously doubt it’ll take dat long, though. Animal personalities are as clear-cut and distinctive as human ones, ha ha. Individuals may have six to twelve sessions as part of regular therapy... but are you aware that in Paris there have already been some serious experiments relating to the possibility of insanity by means of the simple influence of logical reasoning? Human personalities, for example, are sometimes measured in five dimensions: ‘openness to experience’, ‘agreeableness’, ‘extraversion’. Applying this analysis to dogs yielded four principal dimensions to their personalities. Dr. Gosling calls these ‘sociability’, ‘affection’, ‘emotional stability’ and ‘competence’.

He suggests that I make her walk and trot in a circle on a long rein. He demonstrates, and Annie obeys. “How many relationships do you have where you are accpeted unconditionally for who you are as a person? Horses accept others unconditionally because belonging to the herd is survival.” Dr. David Gosling is a 43-year-old project worker who once underwent equine-utilized psychotherapy as part of treatment for cocaine and alcohol addiction. Dr. Gosling has been clean and sober for thirteen years. “I remember trying to get the horse to follow me,” he says. “The first time, it didn’t. My head was all over the place. When you’re grounded it’s so much easier to make a connection...”
Colette’s decided she’s got something to say.
outdoor dogs all you want but it ain gonna do you no good, nohow.
this is how it begins. you are born into a family that some will say is not of your choosing.
Hmm. Seems like she ain’t havin such a good day today. But we hafta go ahead wid’it anyway. We keep missin our sessional timeslots and all. We can’t miss no more.
and i will say, what choice have we ever had? you are picked at for years and years by people who are beyond your control
“And outta de jurisdiction of de rules o’society. I know. Hey, look at dis animal. It feels de same way you do.”
These are pets. They’re not animals anymore. Picked on, and picked, until finally one day maybe you are set free, or at least it seems like it. The source of the outward picking has removed itself, but the inward picking will never go away. There is something wrong with every situation you find yourself in. The ground is dirty. The house is messy.
“Nothing bout you is good enough and ever will be, right Colette? Da’s how you’re feelin, right?” If I can just get a lock on her emotional state, maybe I can get her to connect. “Colette, look at the unconditional positive regard that this animal is sending out to you.”
Love is outta the question, of course. What is love anyway? A privilege?
“No, it’s not a privilege. It’s a human need. This animal will love you even if you don’t love it back.”
Humans, ha. The people; first of all, they never leave you alone. And second of all, they’re fuckin disgusting. Their habits, their weaknesses.
“Everyone has weaknesses, Colette. Everyone does. You do, I do. Nothing can ever be immaculate enough for your own pure liking.”
And... And they jus keep going and goin. They reproduce themselves in everything they can find. Everything they fuckin see, they make into an image of themselves. In fact, you’re doing it right now. You’re trying to make this animal into a human being for me. Well, it’s not going to work.
Maybe it’s really not going to work. “Well, no. We’ve already tried group therapy where you had to interact with other human beings, but that didn’t work for you. So now we’re trying animals.”
An they so busy doin this that they never see what it is they makin. An they never see why they made it. You keep pickin at them until there’s nothin left to pick. Then you start in on yerself.
“Colette, think about it this way. This is an innocent being. This animal can never lie to you. It trusts you implicitly. See how it’s holding itself out to you? All this animal can do is defend itself against you. In this relationship, YOU would be the transgressor. Got it?” Maybe today will jus be an introduction of sorts. Give her somethin to really think about anyway. Our time is pretty much up now. So, I gotta report. Always gotta make a fuckin report.
Although animals appear to be increasingly incorporated into correctional programming, our FIELD has failed to systematically assimilate such research regarding the potential therapeutic effects of animals and what we know about prison-based animal programs. The progams that are in most city-states are commonly of a community service design that uses dogs. These programs are more likely to involve male rather than female participants, and most were established after the year 2000. Livestock care/prison farms and equine-assisted virtual therapy units have since emerged as a unique type of prison-based animal program. While we can acknowledge that animal-assisted therapy has been used as an effective intervention with those who have been physically or sexually abused and with those who have chronic mental illness, the reality of this claim is often far from what we’d like to consider a clinical success story.

That last sentence doesn’t sound quite right, does it Maro? I’ve been thinking about essay writing. I was thinking that isn’t it better to acknowledge the paradox upfront? Hmmm. Oh, who’s next now, Carey? Outta de fuckin pot and into de fryin pan.

2007-05-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

One didn’t trust one’s superiors when one was more successful than they were.
This issue is pertinent to nonconditioning paradigms in which awareness of experimental contingencies is measured... Awareness measure is directed toward a different, but correlated, set of hypotheses... Demand Awareness: “(or task awareness) is the subject’s knowledge of what behavioral outcome is predicted.”
“... Familiar semantic properties... truth and reference are exhibited by formulae in the representational system. We have been supposing that, underlying the capacity for reasoned action, there must be a capacity for the description of real and possible states of affairs.”
“Congruent with this theory is the idea that a low-level learning process can occur outside of awareness but that behavioural change (indicative of conditioning) might require conscious processing.” Marianne Hammerl.

“Furedy and Schiffman (1973) have shown that there is a poor relationship between awareness contingency and the conditioned electrodermal response.”
Evaluative Conditioning and the Awareness Issue (March 00, Consciousness and Cognition)

Me: “The type of faculties used here will affect the outcome.”

“and attentional gating in olfaction appears to effect even early processing as reflected in event-related potentials (Krauel, Pause, Sojk, Schott, and Ferstl, 1998).”

“Inferences about unconscious perception are painfully difficult to make because of the problems inherent with exhaustively demonstrating unconscious sensitivity exclusive of awareness...”
“So, the representational system recruited for the calculations must distinguish between possible, nonactual states of affairs.”

DRETSKE enters with: “Insofar as we are concerned with the informational content of a signal or message, the what-it-is-we-can-learn from that signal or message (in contrast to the how-much-we-can-learn), it does not make sense to speak of average information.”

ME: It seems that these two things are dependent on one another.

DRETSKE: “If information theory is to tell us anything about the informational content of signals, it must forsake its concern with averages and tell us something about the information contained in particular messages and signals. For it is only particular messages and signals that have a content.”

Hey, where’d Marianne Hammerl go? Maybe she don’t like Dretske.

DRETSKE: “Information is a question of what, and how much, can be learned from a particular signal, and there simply is no limit to what can be learned from a particular signal about another state of affairs.”

ME: Is it because sequences are bounded, have limit points?

End of transmission. Everybody left, just like that. Hmmmm...

I wonder what will happen when I die. What if I decide that I don’t want to die, that I want to continue on in this world for a long time to come? I don’t know. This is all a lot for me to think about. But that’s what I’m here for, I suppose.

So, I guess Colette ain gonna show up today. Again?
Da’s ok cuz I got J Mac coming in right now. I really gotta change d’order o’dese appointments. Gonna do dat right now, in fact, Maro.

AHEM.
"It's the strangest thing in the world, I mean when you go somewhere for the first time in your life that place really makes an impression on you. It's the strangest thing in the world to go back to that place after you're through with it and expecting to leave it for a few years; it's like a first impression is being made all over again even if this place is exactly the same as how you left it, the circumstances under which you see it, the next time you see it may have completely changed. So many things can happen to a person in four years, even though events that occur in four years are only a drop in the bucket compared to what takes place over a lifetime.When you visit a place again for the first time it's strange to find out that it hasn't changed at all. Your own perspective has."
K Jan is sharin his highschool valedictorian speech wid me today. But now he decides to interrupt hisself so dat he can convey to me what he believes is some pretty damn earth-shattering info.
“You know dat Spark is an arsenist, doncha? That’s why he’s in here. That’s why he get’s called Spark.”
“Oh, so you wanna talk, huh?”
“I ain saying nothin by that. I jus’thought you might like to know.”
“Yeah, I already know dat K. Just about anythin dat you can think of, bout Townsend’at is, I already know.”
“Well, I jus’thought that it was somethin I should tell you in case you didn already know. Like trust. I have other details too.”
“Da’s not gonna get you’tta here any faster. You can tell me anythin you want. This place just is not about plea bargainin.”
“Yeah, fuck. As if I didn’t know dat shit, man. Fuck. I ain stupid, yo.”
“I know.”
“Shit. I’ll jus put it in my next report or somethin.”
“Well, thanks for keepin me updated.”
I am not doin well in dis’ession, but of course, I ain allowed to end it.
“When ya gonna have dat report ready for me, anyway?”
At dat he screws up his face an looks at me kinda sideways.
“I’m still workin on some of the details, y’know? I should have it to you by 0800 hours next Tuesday.”
“Shit, da’s precise.”
“So, in time for our next appointment.”
“Da’s fine. Well, you should go on wid yer speech. I’s pretty good.”
“Really? Ok. AHEM... Look, I'm telling you right now: I'm gonna make it ok? Get that straight. I used to want to make it as some big wig political type (I'm on student parliament and all) but now I don't give a shit what I am as long as it gets me the hell out of here and I impress every single asshole who never believed in me. A lot of people say that though, and don't really mean it...”
He’s pausin here, so I’m gonna jump in like a jerk.
“Uh, jus’o you know, you ain’t never been in any kinda student parliament, man.”
“But that’s not the point. This is an entirely counterfactual situation. I’m fuckin valedictorian! Do you know what it would take for me to have become valedictorian?!”
“Participation in student parliament?”
“Zactly. You gettin it. You ain so slow afterall, Dr. X.”
“Uh, thanks K Jan. Da’s'o nice of you to say.”
“Think nothin of it, ol chap.”
Man, dis guy sure got de charisma when he wants it.
He been readin all dis’peech from some papers he got on his lap. Now he shuffles dem all round in a random sorta way. Wha’de? He got all dis memorized or somethin? Maybe he’s makin all dis’hit up right here on de spot.
Hold it. Maro is tryin to tell me somethin. What de shit? Colette’s here? Damn it. I’m gonna hafta end’e session an get K Jan outta here without dem two seein each other. Dis was exactly what I didn want’o happen. At least Colette is finally showin up for once. I know’hat I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell Maro to tell Colette to meet me out by d’animals. Now I jus gotta kick K Jan out. I know exactly how to do it, too.
“Well, man, y’know’hat? I think der ain’t no point in continuin dis’ession til I got your next report in my proverbial hand. Y’know?”
“What? I didn’t even finish my speech or nothin.”
“Yeah, but I feel like I need you to give me a little more background info on dis’tuff. Like how does it actually relate to de way dat you actually were when you were in school.”
“Oh. Ok. I think I get it.”
“Ok. So, I’ll see ya next time.”
“Ok. See ya next time, man.”
I’m probly gonna get written-up for dis’hit’oo, endin da session early an what-not. Oh de fuck well. I wanna catch Colette.

2007-04-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

2007-04-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

The thing is, without memory (or what it is that we happen to call memory) human beings are scuppered. Imagine a fish for instance, supposedly, some fish only have a memory that’s about three seconds long. So, by our standards the fish can’t remember a thing. Perhaps there is a being who has a much longer or much more powerful memory than what we do. Would we be able to communicate with it? The fish has no idea that it has a short memory. Maybe we have no idea how short our memory really is.
In 1976, research showed that more than 80% of a sample of juvenile offenders were victims of child maltreatment. In 1974, it was noted that juvenile corrections facilities were filled with juveniles who were abused or mistreated. Violently abused children represent a high percentage of child killers and other violent offenders. Self-report data shows an even closer relationship between child abuse and juvenile delinquency, with numbers of abused delinquents ranging from 51 to 61% of delinquent youth. According to the Justice Department, youthful offenders incarcerated for sexual assaults were more likely than any other type of inmate to report having been victimized by sexual or physical child abuse. Young juvenile prostitutes are particularly likely to have been victims of sexual abuse or molestation.

“Last year alone, in our city-state, 1221 juveniles under the age of 15 were arrested for forcible rape. Studies show that young male and female attitudes about violence in dating situations are that physical or sexual aggression may be expected and even considered normal behaviour. Between 25-40 percent of all teenagers have been victims of dating violence. More than 70% of pregnant or parenting teens suffer from physical relationship violence. 33% of females will experience violence at the hands of a dating partner before the age of 18.”
Wait a second. How did I get here? I thought that I fell asleep in de Field. WTF?!

“Then comes the really scary part. Right now we know that at least 10% of teens experiencing intrafamilial violence become perpetrators of dating violence. And so the cycle of violence continues on and on. This is what it means to be human, right? Or is it? You tell me, because you are the next generation. How do you want this story to continue?”

Hey, dis the same class dat I was auditing before. Hey, Maro, why am I here again?

a young do-good baby-sitter to arm herself wid a butcher knife in order to ward off her unseen adversary. Because he’s doggin former acquaintences wid a sense
o’paranoia dat makes’em sweat over crimes he has yet to commit... when Spark’s old-school tricks flew round like nobody’s business, soarin on a wing and a prayer, believin dat he hardly needed either... Spark de shootin star... Dodgin cops wid one sure-footed leap through de chase o’da night. Most o’da time he left‘m just outta reach, den teased an taunted dem by goin back for more. What he did was, he’d escape through a maze o’darkly lit paths and arrive in jus de right spot at jus de right time to appear innocent.

“As far back as the late 1950s, a survey of women found that 62% had been victims of sexual aggression as high school seniors. 44% of the respondents identified their assaulters as fiances or boys they were going steady with. A study in 1977 found that 83% of female college students reported being victimized by male sexual aggression. 61% had been victims since starting college, 24% had been date raped. In 1983, 60% of the male college student respondents questioned admitted to raping or having forced sexual relations with females. In 1988, it was estimated that 38% of date-rape victims were females between 14 and 17 years of age. In that same year, another study showed that 56% of the adolescent females surveyed believed that forced sex was acceptable in certain situations. Well, children, what do you think of all this? Let the session begin."

K Jan looks at me an says, “There are times when I wish I could be anyone but myself. You know, just step outside myself, abandon me completely, come back to me some other time when I actually like who I am and wha's going on in my life.”
I sympathize completely.
K Jan sits on da Pew an watches while Spark as usual, skates down from outta de blue...But dat ain saying much. In Townsend, everythin comes in from outta de blue. I’s fulla pedimens risin from a wasted farmland. Empty-ass fields as far as yer eye can see.
“You finish yer homework?”
“Yeah, right. You?”
“Well, actually...”
“Don tell me you actually did somethin.”
“Jus dis thing on King Tut.”
“Yeah? Who dat?”
“I’s for our presentation. We got audio-visual fx an everythin.”
“Das cool.”
“We’ll see.”
“When you gotta do that?”
“Nex week some time.”
“You early an everythin. Right on, right on. Duude.”
flippin his board round. trickin all de way to da portables.
“Nice of you two to show up. So, as I was saying in terms of people getting together for the good of society... The closest thing we’ve got right now these days... And that was created mostly for the security of people’s material goods. There’s also the Detox, of course. But... Now, I want you all to think about the kind of opportunities that this situation lends itself to. As I say, the future, my friends, it’s in your hands.”
[PAUSE.]
“With a diverse workforce of over 13000 men and women, we are serving the City in units covering every aspect of community service. We are looking for talented men and women who want to help make a positive difference in the lives of our residents. With excellent opportunities for career promotions and advancement, there has never been a better time to be in Townsend. We offer men and women the opportunity to utilize the latest methodologies and technology tools.”
[PAUSE.]
A CAREER AT TOWNSEND
“The responsibilities of being a resident-worker in Townsend are both exciting and challenging. Officers have the opportunity to work in various areas of interest such as Patrol, the Mounted Unit, the Marine unit, or the Traffic Unit, along with many others. A career in Townsend also offers promotion opportunities to positions such as Detective, Gang Specialist, Field Training, and several Department Technician positions. The ranks of Sergeant and Lieutenant are obtained by a combination of educational requirements and competitive examination.”
[PAUSE.]
A CAREER WITH A FUTURE
“You can go as far as your determination takes you. Every sworn member of Townsend, from the highest-ranking position down, began his or her career as an Officer. The experience and knowledge you gain, along with the problem-solving skills you develop, can be used anywhere. Become part of an internationally-respected department and experience Townsend’s rich culture, diverse neighbourhoods and the difference you can make in a world-class city-state.”
[PAUSE.]
THE PROCESS
“The first step in the Townsend residential-employment process is a written examination. An information sheet and briefing guide about this test will be given to all candidates when they apply. The hiring process begins by passing a written exam. The remaining steps include a physical fitness test, drug screening, a psychological test, background investigation and a medical examination. Being on an eligibility list is not an offer or guarantee of acceptance.”

I wonder what K Jan is thinkin bout all dis.
Sure ting, honey. I’ll show ya wha’s excitin.
And’as exactly why he’s here.

2007-03-22T16:20:00.000-07:00

When Sensory Input Does not Match Expectation
-experience
-our bodies are just part of a feedback loop
-we become aware of a self via mismatches between experiences

Here we are in de Field again, Maro. Tryin to solve de mysteries o’life.

“... cuz like if you don’t have kids then there’s no way for people in society to keep track of you. you could always be a floater, jus goin in and outta organizations. takin what you need and then moving on. Marriage and kids make you get attached to a place, to people, you’re not really able to get up and move on if you have people relying on you for stuff all the time. You have to have security in your job. So you have to stay. You have to compromise, and revolution is not about compromise.”
Sounds like Randt, but i’s actually #20033007, (a.k.a. Chap, and of course, he’s without sponsor). I think I’m gonna try to respond.
“What about hippy parents? They seem to have kids jus fine. Would you say dat dey conformin to da mainstream?”
“Yeah, I guess I just didn think of that.”
“I guess der’s jus different degrees of it. Maybe der kids go to school. But those parents still need a steady source of income. And where’s dat gonna come from, y’know?”
Now I’m startin to sound like Randt. Maybe I should jus move on. I’m probably jus’totally interferin. For some reason it makes me think o’Schulte’s decision-makers interactin. Backward induction: look ahead, predict and reason back. But then you got schizophrenics failing to monitor der willed intentions, includin those related to d’expression o’thought (accordin to Frith in 1987 and 1992). So what does dat tell us? Like Frith is assumin dat expressions o’thought are willed, which is ok. Maybe i’s dat dey jus can’t reason backwards to some sorta self; like, I did that. I just willed that expression of my own thought. I dunno, maybe. Be a good way to back up Schulte’s’hit. Maybe. E. Daprati et al. suggests in Cognition 65 (1997) dat schizophrenics “fail to attribute elements arising from their long-term memory, from which they form their goals and plans, to their real origin. The consequence of this failure in monitoring makes them unable to disentangle ‘intentions’ arising from external stimuli, from those generated as a consequence of their own cognitive functioning.” From what I’ve observed, I believe dat’s on de right’rack. But what would constitute an intention arisin from external stimuli? Schulte says dat rational agents’hould follow backward induction. An’den he gets into game theory, which isn’too helpful to my situation here.
“Totally.”
“There’s no way o’gettin out of it. There’s nothin you can do about it. I'll probly end up havin a family o’my own some day too, I guess.”
Da’s definitely Randt. Well, boy, you keep on scarfin down those bennies de way dat you do a’no one’s gonna wanna procreate wid you. Speakin o’dat...
“Hey man, you holdin?”
“Yeah, but only enough for personal.”
Same as it ever was. Bullshit. Fuckin rich, whitebred, punkass. As if he ain’t had enough personal today already. The whole time he’s been talkin he’s been twitchin like hell.
“But Jo D’s got shit fer sure. Go talk to him. He’ll spot you fer sure, if you need ‘im to.”
“Kay.”
Anyway, what Schulte is’ayin bout game theory only works if d’agents aren’t able to identify each other and’ey have no memory of each other. It really doesn’t matter bout de number o’games. I’s bout bein able to identify a defector (liar), like, Randt for example. Practically, every time I talk to him (or catch’is conversations wid others) I find him lyin. He’s a total defector. He wrongs anyone around him as a first move in any game an’dis’ an easy way to identify him. Now, you take a schizophrenic an’dey doin exactly de same thing ‘cept dey actually believe all der lies. I dunno where I’m goin wid’is. I guess dat Schulte probly wouldn consider schizophrenics as agents in de first place, an’definitely not rational agents. Rational agents’hould follow backward induction. Right, well den, you would think dat Randt would backwardly induct dat i’s not in his best interest to defect like dat wid every agent dat he meets. Schulte says dat given a finite number o’games der’s no reason’ot to defect. Dis’tatement I disagree wid wholeheartedly because given dat yer agents can identify one another den i’s precisely wid a finite number o’games dat yer rational agents’hould not find’e best move to be defection. As a rational agent myself, I identify Randt as a defector in de last game dat I played wid’him. Of course, in life de number o’games is infinite an’derfore, as a rational agent, Randt can say to himself, “Well, there’s always a chance that this here rational agent that I’m dealin with won’t remember that I defected as a first move in the last game. So, I should try to defect as a first move again.”

“Cuz I'll warn you right now, Jo is going to be feeling sorry for himself, and talking about himself a lot, cause that's basically all he's into at this point. You're jus going to have to put up with it for a while if you wan any shit from‘im. You gotta listen to his sad story first otherwise he won give you the time o’day. I mean it. I seen ‘im wid dat... oh, what’s her name? Dat sorta hippie chick. You know who I’m talkin ‘bout. Anyway, she jus wanted a bit o’pot, but instead o’ jus handin over a baggie, he was goin on an on about all his shit. She was tryin to look interested but I could tell she was just wanting to get the weed an go. But she knew that if she interrupted ‘im she’d get nothin. So, jus keep that in mind, man. Jo D’s got lousy customer relations. I’m tellin ya...”

See, dis where memory really comes into play. You get an agent dat knows how to fuck wid what a person remembers den everything’oes askew. Maro, do you know how good your memory is? Yeah, I know: stupid question.
One criticism o’dis theory is dat you must be able to assume dat everyone follows backward induction in order to qualify as a rational agent. At least, I think da’s de criticism. Schulte suggests dat de first position could be sacrificed in order to build trust wid an agent. So, like, Randt could make his first move a completely trustworthy one just in order to fuck you over later on. Schulte’s’olution is dat when an agent is faced wid unexpected behaviour (such as not defectin on de first move) one can attribute dis to a mistake in reasoning. Dis don make too much sense to me. I think I jus don’t understand’e scope o’de discussion or somethin.
“Positive symptoms such as insertion of thought, hallucinations and delusion of control would directly derive from this difficulty.” E. Daprati et al. again from dat same article in Cognition 65 (1997). By 1885, the physiologist, Edouard Brown-Sequard had established a theory of ‘dynamic actions’ in the nervous system. This theory promoted the notion that stimulation of one area of the nervous system could create effects in other areas of the nervous system, “either as ‘dynamogenesis’ (a stimulation of functioning), or as “inhibition” (a lessening of functioning)”. According to Ellenberger, the relation between stimulation and functioning was then applied by psychiatrists to the phenomena of mental disturbances. Pierre Moreau (de Tours) “taught that a mental illness [was] a world of its own, basically different from our world and comparable to the world of dreams, even though its elements were all taken from the real world.” Moreau’s description of this world seems comparable in many ways to the notion of the unconscious that we still have today. In fact, Pierre Janet, one of the pioneers of modern dynamic psychiatry, insisted that his own theory of psychological analysis was originally inspired by Moreau de Tours’ ‘fundamental law of mental illness’. Prosper Despine, an adherent to the earlier school of dynamic psychiatry, regarded ‘psychological automatism’ as the means through which complex and intelligent acts were realized. He believed that such automatism was the product of a living machine, completely devoid of consciousness. Janet’s use of this term entails implications that are somewhat contrary to those encompassed by Despine’s use. The ‘psychological automatism’ that Janet wrote about was “a psychological phenomenon in its own right, always entailing a rudimentary consciousness”. In fact, Janet’s entire thesis seems to revolve around a notion of consciousness that has a dynamic relationship to the unconscious mind.
When the room fills what will that be like?
The crew interfaces with AL every day, other than AL himself they presumably know him better than anyone. Goodman’s point here is that all computers do is shuffle symbols around. And, as of yet, we cannot prove and we have no idea how to prove that we, as humans do anything other than shuffle symbols around. We too, seem to be guided by a formal set of rules, we just don’t know what they are. Indeed, according to Goodman, we may never know how our “endless manipulation of symbols” amounts to anything. But, if reportability is taken as the point of reference for personhood then AL seems to pass that test just fine. adults are
This is the very question
we don’t know when this point arises and we don’t know how it arises
How is it that we take meaning from one another’s words? What is the connection between the words that a person utters and the beliefs that she holds? Donald Davidson asserts that in order to interpret the utterances of a speaker we must assume that most of the beliefs that a speaker holds are true. This principle of charity, held on the part of the interpreter, maximizes the true beliefs that a speaker holds in such a way that a background of massive agreement exists between the interpreter and the speaker. Without such a principle it is very difficult to see how communication could take place. If speaker and interpreter did not have a set of common background assumptions (such as a notion of truth) with which to work, then taking meaning from any sentences uttered would seem impossible.
As an interpreter, how is it that I can be sure that the sentences being uttered by a speaker mean what I understand them to mean? It would seem as though there is little to no justification for assuming that all agents will come up with the same interpretation for any given expression. Indeed, it seems as though the meaning of any person’s given expression will elude even the best of today’s philosophers of language. And yet, we communicate. If the meaning of a sentence isn’t the same for all interpreters, and the same sentence can take on different meanings according to the context in which it is uttered, then it would appear that the interpretation of any given sentence would require something to allow a speaker and an interpreter to agree upon before any sort of communication could take place. Ahhh, but what is communication? Quine asserted that the problem of radical translation occurred whenever two speakers of two different languages attempted to communicate without the aid of any prior translation between their languages. Two such speakers would have no established method of translating each other’s utterances, and so would seem to have no way of determining the meaning of each other’s utterances. In this way, it is difficult to see how translations ever occur between the speakers of different languages. And yet, they do. We’ve been communicating this way for as long as different languages have existed. This sets the bar for communication very low indeed. We are able to gather some sort of meaning from one another’s utterances without being able to speak the same language. Wonderful! Davidson maintains that a similar problem, one that he calls ‘radical interpretation’, occurs between two speakers of the same language. Because we cannot be sure that the meaning of a speaker’s utterance will match the meaning that an interpreter will take, it is necessary to assume that something else must be at work when the process of interpretation takes place. There must be something in place that allows a speaker and an interpreter to assume understanding of one another’s utterances.
Whose nightmare dream is dis? Maybe Prin’s?
I am havin dat dream again. I am even partially realizin dat it is a dream while I am dreamin it. But dat don stop it from happenin. It keeps on playin jus da same.
"Whateva, it don matter. We could see dat new movie, uh..."
Latest chick-flick. What is de latest chick-flick? I am fumblin with a name in my mind an den I got it.
“Da Bridges o’Madison County.”
Long pause. Yes? No?
She bursts out laughin. I guess it was jus too much for her, though I’m not really sure why at first. Is it dat her friends an mine don mix? Maybe even da idea dat I got friends at all? Maybe I shoulda suggested “Evita”. Anyway, at least she’s got a handy excuse ready for me. She says she can’t ‘cause i’s her brother’s girlfriend’s birthday on Saturday an she has to go ‘cause i’s like some sorta family ting or sometin.
“Yeah, I understand. Shit like dat is hard ta get outta. Maybe some other time.”
“Yeah, maybe some other time.”
This writing is very personal. It has become very personal. There is a tight spot between when the medicine ends and the writing starts and when I am lost again. Maybe I bin takin too many drugs, eh Kretschy? Almost done forgot how to write. Almost cut my hair. Ha ha. My legs are sparkling. Maybe I’m about to have a stroke. Maybe the medicine has started again. I don’t picture my memories in this way. I don’t like video recording machines. I like to remember things my way, not the way that they necessarily happen. memories are just other versions of myself waiting to jump off roof tops of the second floor (the reason i don’t go up any higher than that). piece going anywhere? Also my stinky armpits. God. Yeah, I’m realizing that I”m not ok. all those cars pulling up all of my squinting men pullin men offa streets right in front of me. feelin like it never really happened at all. how much of every thing was real at all memories are just my own selves facing in other directions a black abyss. thinks navidson record. thanks alot. so many sirens now. with being nothing. I want my dreams here they come. another drug dealer, someone at my window. guilt lining up at my window frame, the writing lining up at the window of my head. when the police get here i’ll be lining up in the middle of my past cuz i never know what really happened there undercover people pounding on other peoples doors for a search warrant. different floors getting robbed. this is why i live on the second floor, not the third. try and capture it before it disappears. i write all the time. ideas to be heard. And it looks like it’s not going to happen. I should just be content with nothing because i need the light for entertaining myself with my own decreativity. depravity. it’s all there in my head, the nothing. neverending story, navidson record. like i’m playing music with my fingertips, back, bach to hofstadter. now There’s nothing left to do. I think I hate my job. I think I hate my job. I think I need to get a new job, but I really jus don’t feel like it.
some weird kinda intestinal crap
also, ohya, I gave her some chicken... Yeah, I’m talking about you. You’re weird. There’s no way I’m gonna get through a whole head of lettuce. ramp champ, no, more like rat champ. i blame myself for that woman’s death. she died because i was there an did not feel the loss properly. it’s my fault that she died.
I can tell what the people above me are doing, jus based on the shadows that they project on the walls across from me. Just like the cave, that ol’philosopher of human kind.

WHOA! Maro, I think I jus fell asleep again, der. I guess I should go an take a rest or somethin.

Progress Report

2007-03-16T16:15:00.000-07:00

PROGRESS REPORT ON Wesbild #20041406
This patient’s deep-seated infection of subcutaneous tissue progressively destroyed fascia and fat, but the skin and muscle was spared. We’ve identified the cause as mixed organisms (aerobic gram-negative bacteria, anaerobes, microaerophiic streptococci) in an open wound contaminated with bowel contents. Within 24 hrs. of the initial lesion tenderness rapidly developed, the erythema changed from red to purple and then to blue. Blisters and bullae containing clear yellow fluid then appeared. On day 7 the line of demarcation became sharply defined, the dead skin began to separate at the margins, revealing an extensive necrosis of the subcutaneous tissue. The patient became dull, unresponsive, and delirious at times. Current Hypostheses Regarding Mechanisms of Shock and Tissue Destruction Caused by Virulent Group A Streptococci. Though the antibiotic selection was critically important, other measures, like prompt, aggressive exploration and debridement of suspected deep-seated S. pyogenes infection was mandatory. The patient had fever and was in excruciating pain. Systemic toxicity would have developed. There was definite evidence of necrotizing fasciitis. If we had waited any longer, surgical debridement would have been too late. Prompt surgical exploration through a small incision, and timely Gram stain of surgically obtained material provided an early and definitive etologic diagnosis. Surgical colleagues were involved early in this case because the infection may have extended to vital areas impossible to debride.

2007-03-09T11:34:00.000-08:00

Maro responds:

Here is Prin. She has entered my chamber now. We don’t know what she was like before she entered. But we do remember a first impression. In a university residence there is something called a common room. This is where the young come to flaunt newly acquired mannerisms. I, myself, have mannerisms. And the one that I choose to flaunt is sitting an watching everyone else. She is flitting from lap to lap. I am trying to figure out if she’s got a boyfriend and if he might be correlated to one o’those laps. At first I am disappointed by this mystery (she a slut, or what?), but not for long. She finally settles down in the arms of the young woman sittin across from me.

But Maro, this isn’t my memory, this is Kretschmar’s. This is Kretschmar’s. How come I don’t have any memories of my own?
Maro again:
Prin writes poetry (in response to somethin she read by this poet, Jenna Wong).
another room for safe
haven made
replete with songs and even shots of joy now and then
just a bit of a home but enough to haunt
(spirit of the place)
how different everything looks when you are farther away
there are shows to be watched, moves to be accomplished, hair to do, the newest styles in order, gel to apply (open the costumes), dances to go, people to flaunt and flirt with (these are the lines of our play), drunk to make (let them fall beside me), amongst all:

both of us searching, searching, searching, don’t forget (a singular object that has the cure for drylipschalkedtongueunblinkablelids, but most of all frustration) and it seems to her that I find hope in the strangest of places where I stand naked boys tumble one by one

she enters knowing her part well but wishin that she could decline for once
complaints and groaning couch the anger feeling perhaps that I can take just one more heart before leaving (posed upon the wooden planks, a traditional love)
again
however there is a nemesis in our midst
it is the journey between safe places
I am crouched in elective pain
there are mirrors and traces of you all around

Because she takes full advantage of every man she meets.
She gets away, almost every single day, with what the girls call
with what the girls call with what the girls call
murder.

Tonight we are going to a meat market. Prin claims to have no use for meat markets, but neither of us can think of anywhere else to go. We will dance in soft coloured light surrounded by vibrant tones and watchful eyes. She will tell many lies to every man that approaches her. I will stand by and simply nod in dumb-founded silence. These are the times that we have had, and I continue to cherish them. No matter what anyone says.
On the dance floor, once she’s had several drinks to get her going, she will grab my arm and pull me close. This is when I’m supposed to know that i’s appropriate for me to dance with her in celebration of sexy girlishness. But I always fail the test, not likin to be touched by anyone, in this way, in public. I’s unfortunate. I can feel her disappointment. She wans to attract as many eyes as possible. She needs this glamour and I failed her once again. The weakest link, she’ll say afterwards.
In the cab home she is tellin the driver all about how she grew up in the Pane and Pinch hood. I find the whole story very amusing. The truth is that Prin grew up on the ultimately right side of the tracks. Her parents worked very, very hard to set their palace up there and buy her Christian Dior baby clothes and send her to this uppity private school downtown.

Prin is with her highschool cronies. They have cut class again. They are cruising in Melody’s parents’ Beamer. The dare is: drive up to the corner of Pane and Pinch, open the door, and TOUCH THE GROUND. giggle giggle. When this mission is accomplished the Beamer peals off again, leavin the poverty-stricken mess in the dust.

Prin is combing her hair. She got curlies coming out from behind every ear.
“Are you ready to go?” she says.
At first I don’t hear. I’m too busy scoping out her record collection, none of which she listens to. She has decked me out in ribbons and bows and garters tonight. For this I will never forgive her. Some day I’ll get her back, but not now. Night time is her time, afterall.
“Yeah. Yes. Can I borrow the John Tesh remix some day?”
“Only if you promise to bring it back.”
“Don’t I always?” I am grinning as I say this.
We are surrounded by blue in her tower tonight. She says she’s “been blue” for some time now. Though I know she just put this colour up last week.
“No, really. You have to bring it back. My father bought it for me.”
Her father bought everything for her, ‘cept for the stuff that her mother bought for her.
“And no scratches or anything this time.”
“What the hell are you talking bout?” I almost added ‘bitch’ there, but decided that wouldn’t be a good idea. She’s been blue lately, she’d probably start crying or something.
“I’m talkin bout dat Liz Phair disc that I lent you a while ago. D’one dat now has a skip in it.”
Crazy bitch. She can get real gawdam pissy when she wants.
“And I s’pose that’s all my fault.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that it’s a pretty strange coincidence that when I finally get it back from you it turns out to have a skip in it that it did not have before I lent it to you.”
“Whateva.”
What does she care? She can jus go ask her daddy to buy her another one. Prin once got a job all by herself. It was tough work, but she pulled it off. She actually asserted some independence for a whole summer. Got herself her own place. I even lived with her for a while there. Well, I guess it was more like I crashed on her couch a lotta the time. But I did help out with the rent. Why did her parents expect her to live at home anyway? Because they needed her. They needed to give her orders in person, feed her, wash her, and fuck her over on a regular basis. This is what she refused to keep going along with. I remember I once stayed over at their palace. I slept on a leather couch in their entertainment room. She was very worried that her grandfather would “wake me up” in the morning. “He’s so loud,” she said, wrinkling up her nose. But he never laid a sonoric hand on me. She seemed surprised by this, and still preferred me to sleep with her up in the loft.

MARO, dis ain’t me! Dese ain’t my memories! I’s’till fuckin Kretschmar! How come I never have memories of my own life?! How come I ain’t got nothin outside o’dese fuckin Townsend walls? What kind of fucking existence is this anyway? Nothing. I’m a fucking tool. Da’s all that I am. Da’s all I’ll ever be.

Ready TO Hand versus Ready AT Hand:
Are you ahead of yourself? Perhaps your care is expressing itself through your ‘I’ function. “In terms of care the constancy of the Self, as the supposed persistence of the subjectum, gets clarified.”

Yeah, ok, Maro. I know my Heidegger. I jus don really feel like dat shit helps me any.

“But the phenomenon of this authentic potentiality-for-Being also opens our eyes for the constancy of the Self in the sense of its having achieved some sort of position.”
Yeah, I know de passage you’re talkin bout Maro. Being and Time is Being and Time is Being and Time. Tell me, does this postmodern shit help you out any?

...

I didn’t’hink so.

“The constancy of the Self, in the double sense of steadiness and steadfastness, is the authentic counter-possibility to the non-Self-constancy which is characteristic of irresolute falling.”

Maro, i’s like you’re quotin a bible or somethin. I dunno what to do wid’is’hit.

“Existentially, ‘Self constancy’ signifies nothing other than anticipatory resoluteness.”

What are you tryin to say, Maro. I know all bout authenticity. I’ve fuckin written on de shit. Remember dat, Maro?

Essentially, Dasein is a being for whom Being is an issue. This issue becomes lost in the shuffle of its average-everday life. In order to live an authentic life Dasein must own up to its existence. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with living inauthentically. Heidegger does not view an inauthentic life as sinful or as containing a type of inherent evil1. This is mainly due to the fact that those who are living an inauthentic life are for the most part doing so unknowingly. A Dasein that is fully immersed in the They has no idea that anything is wrong. The moment before death (when Dasein alone, is inescapably confronted with the finiteness of its own Being and the groundlessness of its existence) might bring about a sudden revelation of mineness that will expose the veil of inauthenticity. The inauthentic Dasein will come to the realization that all actions and decisions up to that point were made in relation to a They that is really no one at all. This Dasein will have a couple seconds of anguish and then it will be over. Where the real trouble lies is with the capacitated, full-life-ahead-of-it Dasein that somehow catches a brief glimpse of the veil or becomes fully aware of the veil of the They (perhaps during a mid-life crisis, or through reading Being and Time). This Dasein is then cursed with the difficult task of establishing an authentic existence in the face of the They, for once the veil is revealed Dasein is faced with the conscious choice of living behind it. The real sin lies not in the losing of the Self (for that is inevitable) but in the choosing of an inauthentic life over an authentic one.
In this essay I am going to examine Dasein’s journey into authenticity. Heidegger sets up a trajectory for Dasein that tracks a ‘fall’ into inauthentic living and a consequent redemption that lifts it back up again. I will be treating Heidegger’s description as a narrative in which Dasein is the star. We will start off with Dasein’s Relation to Others, and end with my own personal notion of Full-blown Authenticity, in all of its glory. Along the way we will be stopping off at Empathy, Anxiety, and Anticipation. We will also be spending a fair amount of time in the They’s Evasion of Death (it’s not as bad as it seems). By addressing these issues in a benign, trite fashion I hope to neutralize some of the negative associations that accompany the terms used in Heidegger’s description of inauthentic living. I will attempt to demonstrate that while Heidegger places negative connotations on the They, these do not necessarily translate over to the They-Self. It is only the authentic Dasein (or a Dasein on its way to authenticity) that can deem the inauthentic life as non-preferential.

We will begin with Dasein’s “Being-with towards others”2. It’s difficult to discern at what point exactly Dasein loses itself to inauthenticity. Heidegger seems to trace it to the moment when Dasein must take up a stance with regards to the Other. We can assume that this would be fairly early on in life. Dasein becomes inauthentic by default, not necessarily by choice. Dasein has no choice but to be with others and this Being-with constitutes its worldhood3. When Dasein originally encounters another Dasein there is a type of empathy that takes place. Dasein sees another Dasein and projects itself on to that Other. It can be argued that once Dasein is able to recognize itself, this type of projection happens between two Daseins as an immediate, knee-jerk type of reaction. Heidegger takes care to emphasize that, “empathy does not first constitute Being-with”4, however this could prove to be a point of contention. In any case, to Heidegger empathy serves to mask Dasein’s true self from itself. Dasein’s concern towards others becomes its downfall. Dasein’s genuine understanding of itself is distorted as it takes refuge in its projection on to the Other.
The merging point with the They occurs when Dasein can no longer refer to itself, when it must continually refer to the They as a source. By this time Dasein has already taken up a stance of distantiality with regards to itself. Its own feelings and thoughts have become mediated by the They. Dasein has now become the They-self, it is fully immersed in the world of concerns5. The veil has been lowered.
Inside the They-self
While Heidegger is careful to maintain that inauthenticity is not a ‘lower’ degree of Being6 he does not give a very favorable description of what it’s like to be inside the They:

Every kind of priority gets noiselessly suppressed. Overnight, everything that is primordial
gets glossed over as something that has long been well known. Everything gained by a
struggle becomes just something to be manipulated. Every secret loses its force.
Being and Time, p. 165
From this passage we can discern that Heidegger holds a particular disdain for the They. Publicness dogs Dasein’s everydayness and continually levels all genuine feelings down to “something familiar and accessible to everyone”. This includes every goal that Dasein may strive for and every judgment that Dasein makes, for all possibilities for Being have already been pre-ordained by the They. The biggest irony is that the They is really no one at all. The They wrestles away all of Dasein’s accountability and yet remains unaccountable itself. Dasein in all its everydayness has entrusted its care over to the They who is actually no on in particular, so that just about everything that Dasein achieves by the end of the day has really been accomplished by nobody. This may seem like a bad thing, but by this point Dasein has completely forgotten about itself anyway. It has no idea that it’s lost anything. In fact, the very innocuousness of the They is what keeps its incredible hold on the inauthentic Dasein. It is through Dasein’s own ignorance that the They maintains its dominion.
The pinnacle achievement of the They and at the same time its own downfall is its comportment towards death. The They pushes the event of death away from Dasein with a vengeance. The They treats death with the same irreverence that it treats everything else. It is always occurring somewhere else, to someone else. It has no particular relevance to any one Dasein. While it is an unalterable fact that we will all die some day, the They is very good at making sure that death remains just an unalterable fact and not a reality that is to be owned-up to. This is perhaps because death is the one event that will not allow a substitution. No one (particularly a nobody like They) can take on Dasein’s death for it. Death is the point at which the They terminates. It is completely non-relational and completely unavoidable. This is what the They is trying to conceal. The They “provides a constant tranquilization about death”7. This is less for the sake of the Dasein that dies and more for the sake of the Dasein who is left behind. Those who die have no need to be consoled about death, it is only those who must constantly live in the face of it that require consolation. The They administers this consolation by removing the face of death. The inauthentic Dasein falls through life never really knowing death. The They ensures “an untroubled indifference towards the uttermost possibility of existence” for Dasein, so that it might live on as though death were not an immediate concern. The They relieves Dasein of its own feelings towards death.

Anxiety becomes the Saving Grace
Every inauthentic Dasein carries around within it the seed for redemption. How can Dasein find its way out of the They-self? In order to live authentically, Dasein must stop looking through the veil of the They and instead hold it up for scrutiny. What agent could possibly allow Dasein to become aware of the mediation of the They? If we were to view the journey into authenticity as an alchemical transformation the catalyst would be death and the reagent would be anxiety. As an indeterminate mood anxiety reveals to Dasein the uncertainty of its own death. Fear can be attributed to the They’s superficial concept of death, but because anxiety has no direct cause Dasein is forced to search for its source. Anxiety pokes a hole in the veil of the They. It whispers into Dasein’s ear and tells it that the They is hiding something. An element of incompletion is introduced and dwelled upon. Dasein is in a mood. Suddenly, something is missing. Dasein has forgotten something. What could it be? It is at this point that the They’s hold on Dasein could begin to loosen, for once it starts on a search of this nature there will be no consoling Dasein. This is the moment of purgatory for Dasein. It has caught a glimpse of the They that it cannot ever forget, and yet Dasein has not set upon the path of authenticity. While there is nothing wrong with inauthentic living for the They-self, a Dasein that has been lifted out of the They-self can never be completely immersed into it again. This is when the sin occurs. Unless anxiety is unleashed it will never occur to the They-self that there even is a veil of the They. Once anxiety has illuminated the veil Dasein can’t help but see it. Dasein now has the choice to attempt to lose itself back in the They or to attempt to push the veil aside. Why would any self-respecting Dasein choose the They after having glimpsed the veil? Because death is waiting on the other side of that veil. The They offers an easy out to death. Dasein can rest in the certainty that death is coming but it’s still a long way off. Authentic Being does not allow this. Death is occupying the immediate space on the other side of that veil, and yet no matter how close the living Dasein gets to it s/he can never know it. Death is the inauthentic Dasein’s missing piece, but remains itself incomplete for the duration of life. It’s not until death that Dasein will ever completely tear the veil of the They away. Dasein must always concern itself with its Being-with towards others. The only difference between the authentic and the inauthentic Dasein is knowledge. Authentic Dasein possesses immediate knowledge of death and therefore immediate knowledge of self because it is keenly aware of its own potentiality for Being. The inauthentic Dasein lives towards the end but does so in ignorance. The They-self only knows the They, it has no idea what it’s missing.

Anticipation=Emancipation
In order for Dasein to be authentic Heidegger advises Dasein to essentially carry death around on his or her shoulder. Instead of gliding toward it inadvertently as the They advocates, Dasein should take death up, hold it close and never let it stray too far from Being. In short, anticipation of death allows Dasein the ultimate mineness. By carrying death around Dasein will never lose sight of its own potentiality of Being. Dasein lives authentically by holding-for-true the projection of itself towards death (rather than on to the Other). Death acts as the catalyst that can unlock Dasein’s true self. Dasein is born into life and it is certain that Dasein will die out of it. Dasein could go at any moment. Death serves as a strong reminder of the They. Death tells Dasein that existence is groundless. Meaning can only be found in Dasein’s own genuine thoughts and feelings, not in the herd mentality of the They. The non-relational aspects of death will force Dasein to take a stance towards mineness. Dasein will also have to address the possibility of the ultimate loss of its mineness, the ultimate loss of Self.
Heidegger warns against brooding about death. There is nothing that we can do to prepare for it. On the other hand, we cannot dismiss death as something that is certainly on its way. It is out of our control and yet it remains a constant possibility. The very fact that death is always a possibility should open up all the possibilities that Dasein has for living. Indeed, death is the end of all possibility with regards to existence. The authentic Dasein can use this to disclose its “ownmost potentiality-for-Being”8. In this way Dasein can carry on with its everyday activities but with a keen awareness of its Being and the ever-present possibilities for Being. That is all that authenticity is. There is no inherent good contained in it. An authentic Dasein simply comports itself differently towards existence.
The end result of this alchemical transformation may or may not be gold. Who is to be the judge? The redeemed Dasein is still subject to all of the pain and suffering that an inauthentic Dasein will be exposed to. The only difference is that the authentic Dasein has a mechanism other than the They to cope with it. The only Dasein that views the They-self as a non-preferential state is an authentic Dasein. Heidegger even goes so far as to suggest that the authentic Dasein could take up the cause of liberating others from the They-self as a form of authentic care. However, if existence is groundless anyway then what duty would any authentic Dasein have to an inauthentic Dasein, or to any Dasein for that matter? Who can objectively say that living authentically is any better than living inauthentically? At the end of the day Dasein is either surrendering itself over to a faceless They or a groundless Being.

De thing wid all dis’hit, Maro, is dat I dunno what’o do wid’it. Maybe it helped Heidegger out, but what is it doin for me? Seems like you tryin to say that doubting is an essential part of human existence.

...

Well, so what? I’s’posed to make me feel better that I’m suddenly more HUMAN jus because I’m doubting the contents of my own self. Big fuckin deal. As if Kretschmar would ever care. Dat would jus be another notch in her belt of acheivements. Who cares bout bein human. I fuckin hate humans. They’re a disgustin lot. Why would I want to be one o’dem?!

...

Ok, ok. De children. I’s a different story when it comes to de children, dey alright. But look at what gets done to them. FUCK. It will never stop. Humans will always do the worst shit’o’ne another. Dis making me glad’at I ain’t one o’dem, actually, Maro. Maybe dat was your point.

...

2007-02-25T11:14:00.000-08:00

Somethin’s been bothering me: how do I know Liz Phair lyrics’o damn well? Like that’ime when I used them to continue the conversation with K Jan, how did I do that. Maro, der’s things I don’t remember. But i's all right there in her lyrics isn't it? Like all the shit that I know bout her, Liz Phair, that is. How she was adopted in Chicago by rich parents. How she got married at a really young age to some fucking mobster or whatever an then had the marriage annulled when she went into the witness protection program and became, "Liz Phair," and made her first album. Tha's'hit that everyone knows, right? Everyone knows dat shit. But, I thought that I didn't start lookin up Chicago shit'il AFTER I had that conversation with K Jan. Maro, can you verify that for me? I know that it's a kinda strange request, but, you gotta help me to figure this out a little bit.

2007-02-15T17:20:00.000-08:00

CLAP
“In 1850... small light parade tied in with a religious ceremony... December 8th, entire lighting of the city... Light installation on river... warming centre... Water fire: one of the most intimate, emotional experiences... Pulled asphalt up in the nineties...”
Hey, I’m remembering somethin, Chicago durin the 1830s they had need of a vast variety o’buildins. Dese were boom times in d’ol Northwest. In 1830 the population o’Chicago numbered 100, by the’nd o’dat decade it was more dan 4000. Of all Van Osdel’s buildins o’dis period, none is more significant’han d’emperor of early Chicago hostelries, de Tremont House, which’e constructed in 1850 on de southeast corner o’Lake an Dearborn streets. January 1851, “It is one of the chief ornaments of the city...” In de Tremont’s public rooms d’early Chambers o’Commerce met, business was transacted in its lobby. It was a city where, in de 1840s and 50s a ‘grocery’ meant an establishment’hat sold liquor as well as foodstuffs, and many o’dem’anaged to find room for a roulette wheel as well. The Mecca, built on de South Side at State an 34th streets in 1891, was de result o’de collaboration o’Daniel Burnham an George Edbrooke, a leadin warehouse an store designer.
Outta nowhere, a propos de nothin de man’ext’o me sits up straight, opens his eyes wide and says in a whisper, “I like her. She woke me up.”
“I noticed.”
“... very large to very tiny scale... park well-loved and so well-used.”
More technical difficulties.
“... How people use space... that matters... gather, sit, celebrate...”
A brilliant solution to the problem o’public space, wid Chicago’s harsh winters.
“... Tear down brick buildings, urban renewal... starts growing and can’t stop it... Even very tiny little triangle... cities grow around it... Waterfront and riverfront, rejuvenation... Wilderness coming through the city...”
Meet others who share your love of wolves! The Kerwood Wolf Education Center is committed to the survival of wolves worldwide. A government licensed, non-profit wolf center, Kerwood’s wolf education and advocacy campaign spans the globe. From Alaska to Canada to Europe, Kerwood’s Care to Connect memmbers are a ‘voice for wolves’ everywhere.
“... meander of the river... little neighbourhoods stuck in the middle, very tiny pieces... small interventions, a lot of volunteer labour... sometimes plants are donated... celebrating leadership and agriculture of the land... people thought... nice vacant land... lets see... make a park... put together all of the pieces, all abandoned railroad tracks, native landscapes disappearing... about the people, set aside for use of public park and nothing else... ”
There seems to be a lotta hope in de room right now.
“... ended up... transformed into what it is today... as much economic impact... institution... Why this study? Public process, challenge people to think about cultural and park experience, people value both... magic is in finding a balance... All these needs, infrastructure is shaping park instead of cultural institutions shaping infrastructure... What do people value? From different point of view... Small interventions... Shuttles, promote health of cultural institutions...”
Suddenly the van changed its course and I saw the towers in the distance, blue and half hidden in the smoke. At once my ideas changed.
“... transit... 300 million, so costs are distributed as well as benefits... that is probably the last slide... going to take some commitment and a lot of time... but I just wanted to show you something good. Thankyou.”
Finally. No’ffense to the speakers, o’course.
Oh, looks like I got London’line again. Here goes nothin.

“The abilities to attribute an action to its proper agent and to understand its meaning when it is produced by someone else are basic aspects of human social communication.”

Dese people don even know’hat de fuck dey talkin bout. Like, no’ne’ven knows what meaning is or how it even works. What de fuck. I mean, like, no wonder fuckin schizophrenics have a “dysfunction of the awareness of one’s own action as well as of recognition of actions performed by others”. In my mind dis takes us right back to fuckin Descartes, but dese guys probly never read’im. Dey too fuckin clinical. I’m gonna hafta learn’em.

The COGITO
The proposition, “I am, I exist” is necessarily true whenever it is put forward by me or conceived in my mind.
This version concerns a principle about thinking.

The Proto-COGITO

Whenever I am thinking, I am certain that I exist.
I think, therefore I am.
This version contains an inference.

I am doubting.

Doubting is thinking.

If I am thinking, then I must exist.

Therefore, I exist.

The cogito principle doesn’t deduce existence from thought via a syllogism, rather it is self-evident. ‘I am, I exist’, is a pre-reflective awareness built into thought.
We don’t need to reflect to know what thought is. It is an immediate awareness, evidence that one cannot doubt. The fact of consciousness cannot be doubted. Existence of the self becomes indubitable through the cogito. This helps Descartes to understand his own nature as a thinking thing. The cogito entails doubt, understanding, willing, etc.

“Such syndromes offer a framework for studying the determinants of agency, the ability to correctly attribute actions to their veridical source.”

Ahh, so da’s not good enough for dem, is it. Gonna hafta dig up somethin else.
He seems to wish to maintain that language is necessary for any type of thought to occur and that all thoughts will conform to some pattern of belief.
Dat oughtta do somethin good. Ha ha.

“A fundamental problem is raised by the mechanism of how one becomes aware of one’s own actions, and how one’s actions are distinguished from those of other people.”

Hmmm. I guess in some ways dey sorta’gree wid me. I’s jus’that’hey don’t agree bout’he solution. Hmm. Le’see what else we got here for dem. Dis includes consciousness itself (i.e., consciousness o’bein conscious and consciousness o’reality). What about Libet’s Timing of Conscious Experience (Consciousness and Cognition, Vol. 9, #1)?
“This would produce a lag in conscious awareness of the real world by up to about 500ms.” (p. 4)

“This mechanism is critical for a number of reasons.”

“We realized that there was a distinctive difference between cortical responses to a cortical stimulus and the cortical responses to a skin stimulus. The latter generated a fast primary evoked potential at the somatosensory cortex.” (p. 5)

“First, the ability to make a distinction between the acting self and the acting other is one way by which the self feels distinct from other individuals and self-consciousness built.”

What a fuct-up sentence that was. Glad I didn write it. I think they don understand at all what I’m gettin at.
According to Bermudez, psychological explanations are appropriate in cases where the representation of information will affect the way in which an animal behaves. In such cases, it appears that the most likely explanation for a behaviour is that it was a response to the particular beliefs and desires of the animal in question. If it is necessary to attribute a notion of rationality to a person in order to make sense of his/her actions, then we can see how it would be just as important to apply such a notion to any creature that has beliefs and desires.
I’m not sure da’s what I’m tryin to get at. But it was worth puttin out’here anyway.

“Second, the ability to recognise the meaning of an action when it is produced by someone else and to attribute it to its proper agent is a basic function underlying human social communication.”

Oh, man, der’s’o many fuckin problems wid’at I don’t even know’here to begin. But I got de feelin dey ain gonna care bout’his at all.
He assumes that organisms with the capacity to consider actions, learn concepts, and integrate perceptions will require an internal system of representation.

“Research on these points has been undertaken within several different frameworks. The study of mental and cognitive development is one of those. Researchers in this FIELD have set the stage for a renewal of developmental studies, by demonstrating the appearance, in early childhood, of a special ability of the individual to attribute to others mental states differing from his/her own, and to infer the content of these mental states from his/her own mental content (the so-called ‘theory of mind,’ Leslie, 1987).”

Oh, man. I can’t believe dey gettin’ to dat shit. GAWD.
Evidently, there are many problems inherent to establishing a connection between thought and language.

“The ability to imitate and to learn by observation is another critical developmental function, which might relate to the same basic mechanism (Meltzoff, 1995).”

Ok. Dat much I can agree wid.

“This highly influential research has recently merged with other work in normal adult subjects, aimed at determining the neural mechanisms of mental representations, particularly in the context of action generation.”

So, now’e back to Libet again, eh?
“The whole thrust of our experiments and conclusions was that the timing of a sensation is subjectively referred to the early signal given by the primary evoked potential, not that the conscious sensation itself jumped backwards in time.” (p. 7)
What I’m tryin to get at wid’is Libet stuff here is dat we don even know’hat d’hell is goin on wid fuckin skin pricks when it comes to consciousness. And’at’s really fuckin old research. So how de fuck are we gonna get’o the fuckin consciousness of ACTIONS?! But o’course I can’t fuckin say dat.
“In other words, it is the content of the subjective experience, of the neuronally delayed awareness, that is modified by referral to the earlier timing signal.”
Yeah, fuckin right.

“The notions of internal models and internal simulation borrowed from computational neuroscience (see Wolpert et al., 1995) have now become a conceptual tool for studying the early stages of action generation, such as intending, for example.”

Oh my gawd. I’m never gonna get through to these fuckin people.
Isn’t thought supposed to depend upon some form of interpretation, some instance of language-use?

“Experiments using brain mapping techniques have shown that merely observing an action performed by someone else is no less a powerful way of eliciting brain activity than other cognitive motor states, such as mentally simulating or preparing to execute that same action.”

I’m prepared to grant them that much.

“These results... raise the point of the differences and similarities of motor representations activated during these states.”

No, see, already dey taking it too far. We still don’t know shit bout motor’epresentations or any fucking “mental states”. GAWD. I’m gettin sick o’dis fuckin conversation. Plus, I got a call comin’ on another line. Fuck.

2007-02-07T20:08:00.000-08:00

Lately, Carey been thinkin bout some Kent fellow.

“Things between Kent and I are going really well. He and I went to Six Flags... Great America with my brothers last week. I got... Rollercoastering with through... through... even LIKED... he got... with wife and son... to Chicago... visit because... other brother is graduating... University of Chicago. He’s going to be a doctor!! So last week the whole family, and of course Kent spent lots and lots, well too much family time together.”

At least she ain going on bout sex all de goddam time these days. Makes me think o’Spark for some reason (probly jus cuz o’de fire thing). Cocaine intoxication and phencoyclidine (pcp) intoxication may cause a similar clinical picture, and can be distinguished from Amphetamine Intoxication by the presence of amphetamine metabolites in a urine specimen or amphetamine in plasma. Mild: anorexia and irritability, vomiting, constipation. Severe: physical/mental retardation, very irritable, squint is common, lower lip hangs loosely.
Latest chick-flick. What is the latest chick-flick? I am fumbling with a name in my mind and then I got it.
“The Bridges of Madison County.”
Long pause. Yes? No?
She bursts out laughing. I guess it was just too much for her, though I’m not really sure why at first. Is it that her friends and mine don’t mix? Maybe even the idea that I have friends at all? Maybe I should’ve suggested “Evita”. Anyway, at least she’s got a handy excuse ready for me. She says she can’t because it’s her brother’s girlfriend’s birthday on Saturday and she has to go because it’s like some sort of family thing or something.
“Yeah, I understand. Shit like that is hard to get out of. Maybe some other time.”
“Yeah, maybe some other time.”

Hey, dat was Kretschmar. I feel sure of it. Man, where da fuck did that come from? “Bridges of Madison County” and “Evita”; when d’hell was dat? Like in de 1990s or somethin. It has to be. Man, where’s Randt and his’tupid trivial movie info when you need’im?



After dat things kinda blur. In fact, Janet’s entire thesis seems to revolve around a notion of consciousness that has a dynamic relationship wid’e unconscious mind. According to Ellenberger, in Psychological Automatism, Janet identifies only two levels of consciousness: a function of synthesis and an automatic function. Unfortunately, this distinction doesn’t seem to be quite justified. Perhaps what is meant here is a distinction between voluntary functions and involuntary functions.
When’s Carey gonna get here? She late or what?
Time. We slow time down because we travel through it with our own mass. The way in which we experience time is different from the way in which it actually exists (most likely). Space-time is distorted (created) via mass. Without mass, the universe would not exist. It would be over in an instant. Mass stretches time out... functions as a continuous loop, a closed sequence of events that occurs over and over again. The map becomes as big as the world. As long as you keep looking, the map will be there.

Each user agent must clearly obtain the configuration information from a common location, if the same information is to be used to configure all user agents. However, individual users should be able to override or augment a site’s configuration. The configuration information should therefore be obtained from a designated set of locations.

Ok. I guess, well, I guess’he just ain showing up, eh, Maro? -2 min. Oh my gawd, ok, I’m gonna skip through... Italian rain gardens, a whole range o’different activities: children’s play, skateboardin... More Foucault (again),

"The drawing up of 'tables' was one of the great problems of the scientific, political and economic technology of the eighteenth century: how one was to arrange botanical and zoological gardens and construct at the same time rational classifications of living beings; how one was to observe, supervise, regularize the circulation of commodities and money and thus build up an economic table that might serve as the principle of the increase of wealth..."

Windemere Hill: tall grass meadow. How to gain access to a site. Another case of this rewiring, might result in simply not feeling attitudes that were once considered reactive. Thus, we would only experience a certain numbness where before we felt attitudes such as forgiveness, love and anger. One could simply learn to control those attitudes over which one previously had no control. Certainly, if anything, this would be living in accordance with the facts. This kind of control would have to surpass the ability to decide when one would fall in love, when one would feel anger or hurt, or pride and respect.
Hey, I just found a post from Carey. It jus got put up here today. Weird. Right now, in fact. Strange... Whispering bout an overpass. Botanical gardens, Italian community who funded a lotta this: the rain, youth, sustainability, couple of last comments.
Oh, another meeting now, eh, Maro? Der be peeps filling in. I’m tryin to find a place to sit myself. In da peanut gallery we got de Cock (who looks like he fallin asleep, maybe he’d be a good one to sit beside), and a bunch of other student reps. We also gotta couple o’staff members who bin sucked into takin notes. I believe I see da dentist. Maybe I should be tryin to sit beside her. Beautiful dentist she is. Looks jus like her picture. She ain fixed it up or nothin. Ahh, maybe not. Looks like she havin a good laugh wid an ex-chancellor, too rich for my blood. The Warden, de Sub-Warden. De Vices. All a lotta fuckin big wigs. Da’s for damn sure. An I feel like I ain one o’dem at all. Wha da hell’m I doin here, anyway? Big business junkies an de like. Looks like everyone’s jus bout here. Guess I better get myself a seat. I’m gonna try sittin beside the Cock for a change. He’s sorta surrounded by student reps here, but I see an empty seat.
“No room! No room!”
Da’s ridiculous. Fuckin racist or some shit. Der’s all kindsa room. Jus cuz dey gotta hole up in one corner o’de room doesn’t mean’o one else can join dem. Fuck. I useta be a studen’too y’know. I feel’ike tellin’em to fuck right off, but instead I jus’tart lookin for somewhere else to sit. Fuck it. I’m sittin wid’e students. Der’s nowhere else to sit, an I can tell da’the meetin is bout to start. Dey’ll jus hafta deal. No, wait. I guess I can sit nex’to d’ex-chancellor, maybe an de beautiful dentist. Dat wouldn be so bad afterall.
“Ahh, der’s plenty o’room.” I tell those fuckin studens, an’den I go to d’other end o’de room. Right in de midst of all de big-wigs. D’ex-chancellor is right beside me. He’s lookin me up an’down.
“Have some wine,” he says openin up his jacket as I sit down. I see a flask in der. He’s takin it out discreetly an offerin it to me. He’s holdin it right up to my face. It seems pretty empty to me, an from de smell it was somethin a little stronger dan wine dat was in it in de first place.
“I don see any wine, man,” I’m sayin to him.
“There isn’t any,” he says with a very kooky kinda smile. How old is dis guy anyway? He looks like he’s bout 102. No wonder he’s an ex-chancellor.
“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” says some kinda businessman on de other side o’me.
“It wasn very civil of YOU to sit down without bein’vited,” d’ex-chancellor is sayin to de businessman wid a wink at me. Maybe dis guy ain so bad afterall.
“I didn’t know this was YOUR row, John,” de businessman is bout to lose his temper.
“Cut your hair,” d’ex-chancellor snaps back. Dis is pretty funny cuz de businessman looks a bit like an old hippy ‘cept for his suit. He got all kindsa beads an tattoos an stuff, not to mention a great big head o’long hair. I figure I better break in before things get outta hand.
“Hey, guys. Le’s not get into de personal remarks, ok?”
De hippy businessman is openin his eyes very wide an den they suddenly become all squinty-like an small. He’s bout to say somethin to me, but a loud bout o’raucous laughter interrupts him. Someone nearby is tellin jokes.
“Then the patient says, ‘I coulda been a psychopath.’ So, I say, ‘Don’t worry. If you’re wrong, you won’t lose your head.’ Haa haaa haaa.”
De guy is laughin so hard, he’s just about chokin.
Now de name tags bein propped up on de table. I’s funny cuz dey got dis huge-like table from’edieval times or somethin, but d’whole Board is all crunched at one’nd of it. Now’e see how up to date dem websites really is. Connectin the dots: the relations between all dese people. Can’t quite be read. But it look like de lovely Ms. Inwest Investments Inc. ain gonna make it again today, unless she’s jettin in late. I’s gettin called to order now. Der’s gonna be another presentation today.
Jane: “... integrated storm water drainage, all permeable surfaces, this is the last...”
Silence. Jane waits a beat, “... Opportunities for public recreation, a dream about using... a lot of good thought from the community...”
Cheryl will now take over de mic.
“Jane, I know I’m already in trouble... giving the opportunity, gets a little confusing... Don’t take these images literally... Cultural programming... How we use our spaces... celebrations... Urban ephemera... Everything I’m going to show you is temporary... Barcelona... From an architectural point of view... How you experience festival space... Resonating in the city... Must come from citizens... for and by citizens... Always think what makes this site specific? A few hundred fairs, programs... Just a sampling... 30 ethnic parades, markets, holiday festivals, free events but revenue keeps our department going... large public gathering. Outdoor film festival... What we do is we highlight a short created by a Chicago filmmaker. ”
Wait a second. Chicago? Wha da fuck she going on bout?
Isn dat mov de “Breakfast Club” shot der or something? MARO? You der?
“A lot of different neighborhoods... Mayor became obsessed with puppets, puppetropolis... Four or five shows every day... ‘Punch and Judy.’”
Sounds pretty GAY to me, ha ha.
“Fun... local Chicago company, Sears re-opening downtown... Four Australian actors... Created a four room home... Human puppets...”
Who, I’m feeling a little uncomfortable here. I wonder if anyone else is feeling uncomfortable. Maro, are you feeling uncomfortable? Maybe I should be taking my meds right bout now. Is this what people call a panic attack? Whoa.
“Social dance, live music... Dance instruction... Summer dance, instruction before music starts... Activity that doesn’t cause problems, y’know?”
Hey, is’he looking at me right now, like specifically at me? WTF.
“Every Sunday, noon to 2pm, first to act resistant... police would not beat up on senior citizens... Really wonderful event, beautiful fire festival, keeps them from burning the town down.”
Ha ha ha. I feel’ike dey all’ooking at me again. Fuck.
“... Creating floral carpet, just looks so wonderful... Montreal: island in old waterfront, plant sculptures, not an inexpensive project, civic morale...”
CLAP
“In 1850... small light parade tied in with a religious ceremony... December 8th, entire lighting of the city... Light installation on river... warming centre... Water fire: one of the most intimate, emotional experiences... Pulled asphalt up in the nineties...”