OK - this thing has obviously turned into something different than I intended. It was going to be didactic, and apply modern reasoning methods to the plight of the world - make things better. A real scientist or engineer could do this. But I am neither. It is much easier to be a hack poet, and throw all the other types of metaphors in the same drawer, since, not much is expected of a hack.
So, site changes.....
well, I can no longer be StonedJwaysByKways. The idea was sort of like I am muti-dimensionally stoned; stoned on messing with my chemistry, my knowledge, imagination and words, and of course, consciousness.
But I am not up to it. I'm simply too dumb and lazy to be that stoned.Trying to do that did change me though. When I was in high school, back in the 60's, there was this famous kid. He had eaten way too much acid and never came back. He, should have been a junior, but he was in 8th grade. Sometimes, he would just take off running. He wasn't stupid though, he was just in his own world. He hung out with 11th and twelfth graders as if he were one. He just lived in his own world that sort of overlapped with ours. We were very proud of him.
I'm that famous kid now. I don't understand anything anymore. I can easily confuse a G minor 9th chord, with a black and white photo. Words change into other things, thoughts change into other things. It's like all the "Glass Bead Games" at once. Instead of a Godel machine, it's a meaning machine, cranking out every possible string of meanings in parallel, each one bit different from the next, longer and longer proteins of meaning. See what I mean, there really are proteins of meaning. There really is semantic Brownian motion turning our gate into a drunk walk. I have to remind myself when I work; "that component is not a chime, control statements are not amino acids."
This clicking feeling under my fingers, it is the keyboard of my computer, it is not my piano, .....
When I am driving; this is not a painting, if you smash into someone, someone could get hurt, at the very least there will be tedium, something you have to do.
So - Lost In Symbols, that's the new me. I am sure I'm lost and I'm sure of nothing more than symbols.
J-ways by K-ways? I hadn't gotten so far on K.
More than likely, what you'll be able to see here is some sort of pathetic unraveling of sanity as defined by the great "Blue Book" on humans. The hammy death of K-Mart personality. (even that; think kitsch, hammy death of a K-mart personality? makes that cow shaped creamer look like a Michaelangelo)
In some other world, "60 Minutes" has a man on, whose mind is perfectly normal, they have traced this back to the structure of his brain. You can see the source of the disease and the REASON he acts that way.
Teacher, why does this passage mean that?
Because, foolish child, "A" is like an arch, it points up, and in this case is followed by a space, so the first word, is "A". Now for the second word, ......
Lost in symbols - I just string them together - if you ask me what they mean, I'll string together another group - "I laugh alone in a dark house" - I say what I want - I talk to my stairs -
I am a micro-performance artist - I am the fool unwinding himself in stutters -
I am obscure, I am anonymous, I am of no consequence. YEA!!
I will say what I want!
Send people here to feel better about themselves. "Look, his punctuation is like a hillbillies teeth. The more he smiles, the worse it gets."
"Why does he post this? Why doesn't he have a life. So sad." -
I want to exercise my Russian heart (since I can have anything (worth wanting) I want). I revel in being a dog. I will press my face against the glass, and you can continue eating. Ask the Maitre d for a different table, it will only encourage me.
I don't apologize.
In my lunacy, what makes sense; is. I can have what is worth having. Everything else, I will not get. That is how I will get over desire. The remainder, I will give, for spite.
Watch how I disappear.
I will not suit up today
I will not clean my weapon and load
it and make sure I have my bayonet
I will not defend my self today
I am going to whistle
I am going to stand naked in the middle of the
battlefied
and whistle.
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To someone somewhere sometime
I appeal to two groups in particular
but don't want to restrict any other
if you can be of help.
To the first group:
You are all the other me that branched
off into a slightly different universe.
First off, I hope you are doing well.
Listen, we should all get together and
see if there is some way of "pooling" our wealth
you know, I would certainly do it for you.
My world is pretty bleak. I'm running out of time
and (I hate to admt it) I still don't think it was worth it.
Everyone is so busy and afraid in my neighborhood.
I should be, but you know how we are. So, any of you got
any ideas? If you are me, and in a universe with this blog and
accidentally bump into it, recognize me. OK? Do something if you
can. Read all about my troubles and give me a hand.
I'll do the same for you, I'm always on the look out for someone like
us that justs needs a little encouragement. Thanks.
Second group:
You are something like an archaeologist in some other world or future world.
It's trivial for you to enhance reality for people. Make it easier for them to drive it. You will
detect my blog in some sort of archaeological sifter. You will say, look what we have here,
a silicone age man painting on the walls of reality. Poignant. Let's fill in some of the blanks for
him. As you know, I live in an age of waste, because we don't understand what is precious. We left the old gods in place and just rearranged the religion. Wall Street, Madison Avenue, Chernobyl, you know, you're a scholar. You will know this is not a conceit. This is not the first you have found in your sifter. Maybe you are laughing, because, you have already started doing that. I admit, I am funny here, and must be funny there too. I'll look - I do think there have been some things that are too unlikely to be called anything other than at least a simple structure; interesting coincidences. I hope you know what I mean.
I'm the kind of brute from the silicon age that works with it. My Faust, needs a process, an interlocutor, a sentient agent. As you know, we started using applied AI during my age. So I don't need answers, I need someone to talk to. That's what I'd trade my soul for. Poignant eh? Maybe there's a movie about you, where you run into this guy from a long time ago, and no one knows how to communicate with people this backward, but something about him. You start feeling like you know him and identify with him and feel compelled to help him by breaking through, finding the rare algorithm. Maybe you don't have movies that corny in the future. Maybe this is just more "Ubi est Gaulia" (bet you haven't heard that one in a while). If so, sorry, any crumb will be appreciated.
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DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
- Donne
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