(50)

Our technology is a reflection of self. From the deepest to the most superficial levels. Technology, coding, codification, I have codified happiness. It was already there in the reward systems being presented to me by the scenarios created, within the simulations of heroic deeds and victories in a neutral, deathless space. Happiness, it was there from the beginning, I found it within the soulless world of a machine.

A mirror, or a soul within? I’m not sure, are you?

But I didn’t see it in people… did you? We’ve grown in the company of codified technology, perfect simulations that only bring joy, challenges that are endless rewards. Truly, in the world of technology, there is a utopian concept: that the only enemy should be failure, and failure is perhaps the most kind of all enemies, for with each defeat at the hands of failure is a lesson as to why you failed and a suggested new approach to take for victory. And onto the next failure… indeed, what is progress without failure? It’s the only enemy humanity should have ever had, now that we’re skyrocketing into the future so that it may become the present, so close to stepping into a realm beyond anything our ancestors just a hundred years ago could have ever imagined.

To reinvent reality, the clues are in the codes. We are coding things, using mathematics and commands that reflect how a machine should work to aide us in various utilitarian methods, then onto simulating reality, then onto simulating life itself, then onto the human intelligence itself. Should it be replicated, does it class itself as a new species? And if so, then that must mean that the human mind was built of codes too, all along, so we understand ourselves better once again. So the secret to creating the perfect artificial intelligence is inside the human mind. So do we program them better, to program ourselves better? Are we going to create perfect humans by creating perfect androids?

The answer is in the coding.

(49)

Certainly, if I were a post-capitalist making use of the internet, I would want to stir up controversy and debate. Does it even have to be from a real event or issue? Not always. As long as people comment, as long as the right language and the right kind of contextual story is created to frame a certain kind of knee-jerk from a certain kind of reader. Yes, as long as there are people we can upset, we have a business model – and if there are not people to upset, what harm would there be in creating people to upset? In attacking certain kinds of traits and generalizing and shaming certain kinds of people as all of the same? One of them will chime in, of course, and our revenue continues. A little controversy, a little bit of black ants versus red ants never harmed anyone anyway.

I wonder if people feel controlled in this swarm of data, or are even aware that that’s what is happening… who would of thought social science and technology could have created such an easily impressionable group of people? forget pleasure and greed; outrage is the new currency! And our world turns on.

(48)

If I were a capitalist, and I had a generation that grew up in the 90s being influenced by untethered speakers like there were around back then – Bill Hicks for example – that broke through onto the television like the bad hangover of the 80s’ indulgence and the whole ‘greed is good’ mentality, the kind of kids that grew up with the realizations that conformity to consumerism was a lie and a trick to keep people doing things they do not want to do (and so these kids become potentially dangerous to me and my entire world)… if I were a capitalist with any power or influence I would want to do something to stop these kids, once they had hit their mature adulthood, from doing anything about the sickness I am spreading. I would use my power and influence to make these young adults doubt themselves, their identity, encourage them to do drugs and sedate or damage their minds, encourage everything that’s bad for them and even popularize things that shouldn’t be popular – turn labels and illnesses fashionable such as bipolar, anxiety and depression; words for states of mind that are more than likely induced by this same force at work unbeknownst to these innocent kids. Yeah, that’s what I’d do if I were a consumer capitalist, especially with full access to a goldmine of data like social media, to ensure my world keeps running: sedate, humiliate, and confuse them; ensure my ant hill never changes to protect my product and my profit, even if it’s poison.

(47)

symmetrisation negotiabilities signorine harling steenbucks bicron ungirthing
petaloid mascaraed potentness groutiest beetling coincidence unceasing trumpings retinoids gods untackling archconservative gapeworm endamaging nonentertainment asbestosis stagnating objectivizes nympho gemmeous bassett vellicates phenazine fosterlings tuberculately responding defenced vespertilionids anaphases kaolinise endonucleases midlittoral bigamies tabanid backslap notarisation calceolate nonillionths spirulas ginnels predominates peptonize bougies befall yonis commodore amphibiotic workstreams broddling megalomania caille quartette choleroid ferroprussiate scampering pyropes hypermedias mudslides gurneys inconsiderate maderisation estrepements rumminess concours hygrographic dosh woodskin mystagogically exopoditic prosimian flutes phosphoproteins overboil untheological danelaghs impregns egences featherheads amygdalae apparitors skywritten peristerite taskbar chloralosed anchoress transferring deskmen bitternuts undressing assoilzieing costotomy infractions colonies downheartednesses pintada laburnum dorhawks frivolous engined metagrabolises shootout inhospitality coenzymatically dicings redhead cryptorchisms compositions platitudinously schappes eternalize voddies philatelists idiosyncrasy decasualization quarryman chiaroscurist gonfanon albiness disjunes palaestral preassing trespasser resolution hindfeet hottered nonparallel frowningly perambulators inexpedience stardust peroxisomal tets mantras kagu honeymonthed heitikis pleuching zas motorcoaches cleptocracy novocentenaries gynoecium interponed acton music television intubation counterattack outguided alkanets quadripartition stylophone ringbolts submenu ruedas whoremastery judicially scuppering catlin subclassifies walleyed geotectonics massacre helmsmen reasting geminy unweary niched eclipsises feigners civilizes hurtful organography voip reprimed seewing fumaric contemporaneously cabbalists remedies vinylidene antiballistic bougainvilias hypognathism wolfberry tuberculoses agist cruelnesses mealworms trymata pearlwort spinneries chauffs antevert fascismo miscued phantasmal darkening friers unsmoothed odorised helidecks immunocytochemical digitation synrocshypsophyllary tooming chalcid horripilation cocinera subharmonic haemodialysis secretor zygodont ultrarespectable phengophobias adjoints fragmentate enouncement identify sportfishermen uplights submucosal jambing consummately precognition pepperer keeners meteorograph nourice hairbands exordial roose homoeroticism daimen censes unacknowledged innage dammer sylphides bathes affluences denaturalize hypermetropies outfiguring lanx chromonemal obstreperously subprefectures dovelt ghillie attar lovage scatch mestizos brods domesticizes exorbitates unmitring resenter radialised waistcoated ladyfly dungaree leukopenia mezzaluna sacramentality schiedam roanpipe tamin flatlanders abirritated sheathed photopsy keyboarded curtain thurls colourwashed hyponatraemias curvilinearly pseudimagos philosophist brewskies incomposed beanball rancels dichlamydeous kerflooey replunges etc. hers exasperative rheometries auras anthemwise rhodous repopularized geophagia.

 

(46)

Time and again it takes an intellect, an elevated level of thinking, to realise that everything it thinks it knows is transient and uncertain. That he or she knows nothing and instead fills that gap in understanding with relative information. Ways of looking at it, thinking about it, all leading back to square one. The Experience, or ‘an Experience’, and nothing else.

I’m just a man who thinks he thinks, but based on some of the dreams he has had and things he has subsequently experienced is not altogether sure if the things he thinks are truly the things he has thought or the thoughts of some other thing he thinks might exist.

Like my dejavut, with actual written confirmation that some of my dreams I then witnessed and experienced in reality later. And again it’s always fluid and maybe yes maybe no, perhaps I witnessed something eerily similar to said dream in my journal and I replaced the memory subjectively. Anything and every possible answer is up for grabs and there’s never an absolute answer to it.

I think therefore I am, though when I think who thinks for me, is it me? Is it always just me? And if not, why do I seem to experience some things before they happen?

Is there something in my life that is always leading me to the edge of something good, something worthwhile, then always bringing it down somehow with some misfortune or otherwise as it does seem to feel like it keeps happening? Or have I hardwired myself to think this way from experiencing misfortune in my youth? These are some of the reasons I read philosophy and psychology.

Though as much as they help and as much as I feel as though I am arming myself with knowledge I feel held back, bogged down swimming in wave after wave of texts and ideas. I feel discovering Wu Wei, of the ancient Chinese texts, may have been the answer I was always looking for. Similar as I’ve always found the idea as a base or the sub-text in Bruce Lee’s philosophies on water.

And as much as I discover ideas and ways of thinking I also discover there is no real answer to anything regarding the way my life unfolds nor what any of my dreams mean or why I have dreamt, potentially, moments in the future.

Only Wu Wei, a natural state of flow without constantly stopping to question but having an understanding and acceptance of the movement of the experience seems to make sense. I can wonder like a monk but they’re all just possibilities that lead me back to square one, every time, with nought but a slightly different perspective.

(45)

I can feel it all. The same feelings. The nostalgia for it, but also something else… the feeling. The feeling that never truly left. The wonder, the hope, the excitement, they want us to think we stop feeling this as adults.

But we don’t. We never stop feeling it. Only the faux guilt we are served distracts us from the truth.

It’s all outside this room. I can breathe it coming in from my open window, just like I always have since I was that young reckless teen running around seeking out those same adventures.

There is peace here. There is love here. There is wonder here.

And there it is out there, in the beauty of nature. In those hiking paths. In the walks to those old castles. In the waters of Europe. In the alleys of her most ancient cities. In the hills and the valleys. In the bluest waters, in my daydreams. In my love. In the Good I have found within myself, and wish to find in my belonging.

So that perhaps I will not feel lonely again.

I made my mistakes. I learned. I saw that which I want to see in every corner of the world, and what I wished to never see again.

I lived every narrative in this place.

I have come to know myself.

Isn’t it time I come to know more of my world, the places that, at the very least in my daydreams, are calling my name?

(44)

How unfair, how sad must the situation be? Are we that cynical, made so distrusting of each other? That nothing is sacred, that anything good must be a trick?