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mimesis


The Theme of Mimesis
in
Representational and Symbolic Art






contents
Full Transition
Science
Government
Business
Faux Banner
Conclusion



Part One
Full Transition into Postmodern Content



I am
        an alarm clock ticking
        on a shelf in a silent room
        moments pass without anyone
        knowing an essence of empty
        space beyond the living
                                                    alone.



Her CD player breaks. She says "all my things are breaking."
When people change, their belongings break, to make room.
New things to come; energies emitted affect old possessions.
Visualization fixes the mind; old and new follow dutifully.

Her energy is scattered, uneven, threatening breakdown.
Mercury in retrograde. No woman is an island, but... wait.
Chi is the magical elixir in the psychic veins of vampires.
It flows like blood. It never stops. But we think it does.

Interfering with our physical systems, we block the self.
To everything there is a reason and a season to everyone.
Meditation is, overcoming an ill-perceived need to act.
Never move too quickly lest you forget to take the facts.

Her dad read what she wrote and thought it was sweet.
She didn't know he read her online journal. But he did.
Thought compromise results in candidacy for mediocrity.1
She wishes her parents kept a journal she could read.

She is ashamed of nothing she writes, or does. And yet...
Sometimes she feels uncomfortable and a bit exposed.
But she feels that being vulnerable is one her strengths.
I know this much about her now and it's a better world.

"I'd like to get to know you."
"No you wouldn't."
"Yes I would."
"No you wouldn't. Not really."
"Yes I would. Why do you say that?"
"Because very few people really want to know others. They just think they do. We're all very screwed up. Everyone. And when people find out who we really are inside, they're usually shocked and disgusted."

She's the most unusual and interesting woman I have ever known (of), lyric, sensitively sensible, well-grammared for a postmodern writer, web-performance artist.

She makes love to a female mannikin with a dildo strapped to it, admitting she actually orgasmed, stating that she is now officially a pervert. I concur.

I love female perverts.
Even God loves female perverts.
If a god exists.

Either there is no God, or He is a cruel and malevolent Being. (In this latter case, it may be that She is female.) If you need proof of this, all you have to do is consider the case of a man and his dog. I mean, what kind of just and merciful God would create a man with a lifespan of fifty to a hundred years and a dog with a span of twelve to twenty? That's just plain mean. A friend of mine suggests that maybe God meant that we lose a number of dogs during our lifetimes so that we are able to adjust to the idea of death ahead of time. I respond by suggesting that if God were truly benevolent, It would have made dogs live as long as humans do and given the shorter life span to women. She got mad at me and stormed out of the room. Touchy bitch, ain't she? It's the heat.

Ninety degrees. With the humidity at about a thousand percent. Too hot to work. But I'm doing it anyway. And this is the result. Self-referential pieces of crap. Oh, fuck it. I'm going out and sitting on the porch.

"Where are you going?"
"I'm going out back to sit and read."
"Whaddaya think? You're on vacation?"
"I am on vacation."
"Then why were you working this morning?"
"I always work on vacation."
"Then how is it a vacation?"
"When I'm on vacation, I don't worry about the work."




A Revelation of Obscurity

the light of life


Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite 'em,
And little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum...
And great fleas themselves, in turn, have greater fleas to go on;
While these in turn have greater still, and greater still, and so on...

Augustus DeMorgan,
A Budget of Paradoxes

I'm so obscure a novelist I haven't written one yet.
filmmaker David Cronenberg
I'm also an obscure novelist. But I have written novels, obscure ones. Most of these novels are so obscure, no one has read them yet, which is a relief, because even I don't like them. They're too revealing--in an obscure way. (You have to know the code.)
I struggle periodically with the idea that maybe I am being too revealing of the "mechanics" (for lack of a better word) of construction on my website, that I'd be better off presenting more "literary" material as content, without the parenthetical comments.
This is nothing more than the old self-doubt trying to reassert itself. I resist self-revelation; I want to remain obscure. Yes, the original intent of the website was to present my "writing," but my work has evolved, to include more postmodern content.
The website, mine and sites in general, is a postmod phenomenon--as is, of course, the Net itself. My content, "mechanics" as well as "literary," is not only a reflection of the general content of the Net, but a metaphor for it as well--perhaps a poor one, but...
On my website I'm creating a microcosm of my self, which itself is a microcosm, of the world, which is a microcosm of the universe, which is... Somewhere amid the infinity of sub-atomic particles lay the answer to the riddle of existence (i.e., Light).

My strategy is to get my work into a condition and a position where it is available to be viewed by people. Whether people find it and choose to consider it or not is another matter altogether. That is not my concern; that is a matter for fate. If I get my finished work into a position where it is available, I have done my job. Doing more than that is being pushy. Sales and marketing are pushy practices I despise.


I Am Not Myself Apart

This is not me. But sometimes,
this is me. But then, it's always
me, sometimes. Sometimes, not.

I am other people, when I am not
myself--or rather, others are, not me.
Or rather, other people are not me

sometimes, but sometimes, they are.
It's so confusing, being, someone
I'm not, so much, more for others.

I am a pastiche of people, unlike myself.
Their experiences fail to motivate me, as
my own experiences as often also will not.

Everything I am, inner and outer,
the world is, intermingled.
To see me otherwise is to mis-

understand.
                   I have lost the ability
to separate myself out
                                    from a mass
of humanity experiencing
                                         my pain.

When I say I am a psychologist, or
a writer, or a webmaster, this is
what I mean: I'm more than myself,

an artist reflecting a world without
considering the toll it's taking on
a particular individual I don't know,

except in part, partial revelations I am
part of and partial to. I am a parcel,
to be, delivered, piecemeal, split

apart,
personas of the world decollated,
never knowing to whom they belong.

I am a reed shaken in a cosmic wind.

The Egyptian word for "reed" in the story of Moses' birth was erroneously translated as "red." In actuality, Moses parted the reed sea, of which there are many occurrences in and around the Egyptian area that the Hebrews then populated. It may still have been a great feat to have parted a reed sea, but not nearly so fantastic a miracle as having parted the Big Red One. (So, I guess, if this theory is to be believed, the Red Sea then didn't get its name from the plankton that supposedly makes it look red. Another theory shot to hell.)

"Why theorize at all if the plans we make are subverted by a more developed future?"
"Well, of course, to bring that future into being."

I Can't Stop Thinking

I have plans all over the place, and I make feeble attempts to execute them.
But things I do everyday turn out to be the significant enterprises of my life.
This is obvious, but that's not the way I see it as I plan and execute my day.
The plans seem more important, representing my most imaginative thought.
All I will never do, never finding time, is displaced with doing daily tasks.
My journal, then, documentation, becomes the most important thing I do.
It preserves thoughts, plans' essence, fantasies at the pinnacle (or depth).
Their counterpoint in my psyche is my house, always a metaphor for me.
Its condition is an indicator of my mind's condition, and so I work at it.
I try to keep it up, but often fail, my day divided into early, midday, late.
In the morning I write, and dedicate myself to heady things, office goals.
In the afternoon, I move around, clean, develop my living area, or go out.
In the evening, I relax, watch tapes, read, listen to music, or surf the Net.
But mornings, afternoons, and evenings frequently turn into metaphors.
Sometimes I keep regular hours, and/or eat right, periodically growing.
My life and thought proceed along diurnal patterns as if I were normal.
Sometimes I get the hours screwed up, eat poorly, and/or get depressed.
Day is night, night day. I dream about a star that illuminates the darkness.
I sleep through mornings, or afternoons. I'm free, to be, whoever I am.
I freewheel my own way through life, only at times restricted by patterns.
Sometimes, mornings, I meditate, and afternoons become my mornings.
My evenings become afternoons, my nights evenings, mornings nights.
(I can't meditate afternoons, evenings, or nights. I fall asleep, thinking.)
Listening to music when I can't sleep, I become transfixed with patterns.

Overheard in a music store:

"Hey, man. Where you been?"
"I been busy."
"Yeah. Well, I hate to tell you this, man, but it's your own fault cause you never come to practice. The guys voted you out. We got a new bass."
"Too late. I already quit. Come and see my new band 'Fistfucker' at Sorry's on Saturday night."

My own music is in the past, sandwiched between a spontaneous youth and an anal business career. What a crazy time that was, all of it. I want to revisit it, but my art won't let me. I'm trying to figure out why.

They say I'm crazy, but I have a good time.
I'm just looking for clues at the scene of the crime.
--Joe Walsh, "Life's Been Good"
I keep going over and over my past and present and that of those who seem to relate to it. It's what I do, and I'll keep doing it, until I get some realistic answers, or at least some good questions:

1

A Driven Efficiency

When I was working for employers, I was persistent (as I still am, but not nearly so much now, having become lazy--or sane). I was a systems expert. I learned the processes and procedures of any given company by doing the work myself for a time, analyzing every single detail, and then systematizing it all to achieve the highest efficiency in production and product quality. No one appreciated what I did, the long hours of analysis and patient observation and execution I put in in order to understand, qualify, and quantify the process. My apparently obsessive activities (and probably they really were such, for the most part) were dismissed as futile overkill, and I was even ridiculed at times for them by both workers and management. But management liked the results I got, however much they might have questioned my methods. I took inefficient systems and, through working directly with them, executing tasks over and over again until I got them exactly right (when anyone else would have settled for 'good enough'), I made them lean and mean, capable of producing a high quality product with a minimal number of workers. I pared down work crews while other managers kept increasing theirs as workloads increased. But workers don't like it when you do this kind of thing. They feel that you're giving them more work to do. And maybe in some cases you are. But what you're really doing is reorganizing the way they spend their time. I never asked anyone to work more than an hour for an hour's pay. In fact, when you consider the paid breaks and inevitable workplace banter and social interaction that you're never going to stop, they worked far less.
I find myself doing this same thing now, in my own work. I continue to develop and refine procedures, spending hour after hour in repetitive activity on my computers, trying to find exactly the right way to do things. I used to do this same thing in my writing, searching for each perfect word or phrase, but I don't do that any more, partly because I have developed enough skill to find the right ones from the start, but mostly because I approach art from a whole different (postmodern) perspective now. But activities more scientific than writing, like computers, demand more exacting accuracy. [Computers may be a postmodern phenomenon, but their inner workings are still thoroughly entrenched in modern rationalism, and probably always will be.] My tendency toward obsession pays off in this area, when I will, eventually, find the perfect way of doing some task, while others would go along being just good enough. My work methods stick with me as I ease my way through my postmodern life. I try to shake them off, but they just won't let go.

2

A Radical Thesis

The older I get, the more I experience life, the more I realize that we are not separate people. You are much more me than you may ever know, and I sometimes don't even know it myself, so that when I think I'm expressing myself, I'm really expressing you. Any more, it's getting so that I don't know which of us are really me--because we're not.
So, when you criticize me (or when you praise me; it's the same thing, really) for contradicting myself, or for writing about myself as if I am a number of different people, or for not maintaining a consistent point of view, or a consistent tense, or even a consistent gender, or for...for whatever (maybe for too often not finishing ideas), be careful. You may be criticizing yourself somewhere in among the persona I often think I am alone maintaining, when in fact we are living our lives together as we echo each other in the behavior we act out and write about.
I am an unconscious cultural anthropologist who thinks he is reporting on inner states of being that are his own, when in reality they are experiences he introjected when he wasn't paying enough attention. Somehow, in one way or another, you have gotten into me and I spit you back out, in actions, words, and phrases, thinking I am expressing my own opinions, my own self. I have been accused of pretending to be someone I am not. But who? How can I be anything else but you? Any given thing I say or write or do may not be me or have originated as a function of my being, but usually I think it is. And so do you, except when you accuse me otherwise. You see. You see the truth more clearly when you think I am not being me. But you think it in a different way, as if I cheat experience by robbing yours, when we all rob each other, daily, in every way. Without our mutual experience, we are not a human species. Any animal can exist alone, coming together only to mate. But we are together all the time, even when we think we are alone. I express this inner state, the same state we all exist in, all the time. We are not alone. We're not even separate, least of all when we think we are.
*
introjections

My website is like an Acker novel: a pastiche of fact, truth, and exaggeration; psychological study, research, and investigation; hopes and aspirations; dreams, visions, and intuitions; some of it is imagination or creative fiction, some of it is stories about myself, some of it is stories I've witnessed of other people or events, which is which being not important. It is all data, difficult at best to separate out into categories of real-world rationale, but impossible at the deeper levels of the psyche. The world is filled with phenomena that fill my mind that wants, in its turn, to fill the world again.

Sometimes I believe one thing, sometimes I believe another.
Opposition doesn't scare me. I embody it like a completion.
How deceptive it would be, then, to pretend I am different,
when I am actually the same, as every one of you, identical
thoughts pass through my brain, identical feelings affect me.
Who do you think you are, when I feel the same as you do?
Do you think I'm stealing your essence? Of course not. Why?
Because you think you're separate. You suffer that illusion.
I am everyone. How more than that should I say everything?

It's like a neighborhood you pass by on a bus route. Seen only from the main thoroughfare, it looks quaint and intriguing, containing imaginations filling in the spaces you can't quite see, exaggerations in the form of persona-building in the service of the ego, like Anais Nin journals, the truth being distorted just enough to make herself look "better" or different than she really was. This is creative nonfiction in its most liberal sense.

Art tends toward truth, when you see yourself as a separate entity.
But art is never the truth, which always communes in immediacy.
There is no truth in illusion, of which art, and the world, is a part.

My most recently developed (self-)definition of my art:
a unifying vision progressing from journals
and onto websites via projects and pastiches

notes for my "new" website system
a meta-layered hyper-subtext
web-novel

subtext

If I am a text, then the (literal) "text" (i.e., my writing) is subtext, that part of me that is "rendered," as if it were a literal text, but which is below (as in subliminal) the real (physical) me; in other words, the psychological me. All of this is true if the physical me is a text. I know that the definition of a person as a text includes and often is restricted to the psychological self, but I want to see it differently--and so, I do. I want my physical self to be the text, if only metaphorically.
note: if my definition of subtext is an actual text, then a sub-subtext must exist, that which is read between the lines (or pixels), which corresponds to what we think of as the subtext in a more traditional text, like that of a book. This could get confusing, playing with definitions like this, and that's the point. Clarity is not so accurate a method of rendition when it comes to reporting on the state of the human mind, at least not my mind. Actually, not anyone's. Clear and levelheaded writers are not reporters, they're creators, fiction writers, trying to convince their readers that what is not so clear really is. They conveniently leave out facts that diverge from their theories/visions of the way they want the world/the human mind to be. I cannot report everything either (no one can) and so I settle for a metaphor to express my greater (more comprehensive) vision. Thus, I am an artist, one of whose personas is that of a reporter on the complexity of the human condition.

hyper

In that the subtext, via links, is self-referential and other(websites)-referring, an intricate labyrinth of interrelated material, the website is a hyper-subtext. [It's also hyper in the sense that sometimes in my writing I tend toward a mild mania (which offsets my somewhat more depressive non-computer life); thus I exhibit a bi-polar disorder, computer v. "reality."]

layered

The site combines truth, creative fiction, semi-autobiography, pastiches of fact and fantasy, etc., all layered (in the sense of 'deposited,' like a variety of leaves of multiple colors fallen from various species of trees) onto a framework of semi-structure (which is represented/symbolized by a menu/sitemap.)
-truth: journals
-fiction: novel excerpts, stories
-creative non-fiction: notes, special sections (like help, FAQ, etc.)
-persona development: things that I am, but not always necessarily literally, often only partially literally, and sometimes only internally, as if I possess certain (even physical) traits, but only psychologically, never revealing them to the world, except now, via the website.
meta

A lot of what I am exists beyond me (and sometimes, even, beyond the world). I try less and less as I get older to separate out what I am from what others are. The defining of identity is an illusory practice. When we decide who it is that others and we are, we create fictions, because none of us is a truly separate entity. We exist as a system that extends, certainly across the surface of the Earth, and in a far more subtle and mysterious way into outer space.

web-novel

I want to be a book, a novel, and the perfect metaphor for this vision of my self is a website. I adore books in general, and novels in particular. I love the "containedness" of books, how they put a front and back cover on a text. But I don't want to limit myself to an artificial mode of expression that presents a formulaic, or even a merely physically limited structure. I hate conventional plot resolution, as if life can be rendered definitively and conclusively in so many words and characters. On a website, you are intimately connected with the rest of the (Web) world. The Internet is a metaphor for Jung's collective unconscious, extended to include consciousness as well. In a very real sense, the Internet is the developing brain of advancing life on earth, and the World Wide Web is the collective human conscious mind. Not only do I want to be a part of this great experiment, I want to be it. I want to be everybody, not only individually, but all at once. But, of course, except in meditation, which never renders itself accurately in words or even in subtext, I can never actually achieve this vision. So instead I choose it as a metaphor for my art.
All of this is me, in a variety of manifestations and degrees of completion.

3

A Delicate Exposition

Originally (this goes back a very long way), I would take the raw material [which in previous ages would have been the stuff of visions and prophecies (however accurate or inaccurate) or in more recent times would have been the stuff of a burgeoning psychology (however accurate or inaccurate)] and I would have reworked it excessively, slowly transforming it from it's idiosyncratic state into an ordinary product conforming to consensual expectations, replacing the more bizarre and (apparently) alogical fragments with similar, but more "normal" images and/or ideas. The result would be art consistent with mainstream standards--and just as boring.
Then, as I became immersed in a developing postmod culture, as I began to loosen my grip on an overly controlled technique, I began to allow the odd ideas and images to remain, to stand for what they were in and of themselves, or for what they themselves stood for. Still, though, I reworked the art, especially for standards of grammar and punctuation, and to maintain, at least, an internal consistency.
But then, as I began to recognize an erratic universe for what it was, caught in the throes of entropy, 2 I loosened even further my childhood-developed grip, by allowing the apparent wayward, accidentally-encountered (if anything is really ever accidental) elements to account for themselves, devoid of a necessity for explanation and/or justification or rationalization. (So why am I doing it now? Insecurity. Self-doubt.)

I would consider myself a reporter, of the human condition in general and my own in particular, except that I am criticized (correctly) for exaggerating. Exaggeration is a fundamental key to fiction. You start with literal truth, such as factual information on the human condition and typical human stories. You exaggerate the facts into generalizations about human nature and the stories into plots with structure and resolutions. And you end up with fiction.
Often, I exaggerate my own and others' facts and stories. Everyone does this--all but the most meticulously honest people (who tend to be so self-righteous as to be boors). As humans, we are subject to the whims of id and ego. We want to be honest (superego), but we want to look good (ego) in order to attract people to us so that we may satisfy our base desires (id). Therefore, to be honest, we tell the truth, but to make ourselves look good, we exaggerate it. We are all fiction writers of the facts of our own lives and those of others who relate to us. Mostly, we tell these exaggerations only to ourselves, allowing others to assume what and how we are through our behavior, which we allow to be dictated by the exaggerated self we have convinced ourselves we are. In a few small instances, we communicate exaggerations directly, via words, often attempting to further convince ourselves as much as others that we are who we would, rather, like to be. (This is what I'm trying to do now, and almost every time I write. I'm trying to tell the truth without exaggerating, but between the lines, I'm unconsciously exaggerating so that you will think the better of me as you read these words.)
My exaggerated and therefore fictive self is presented in my work (especially in my fiction, but certainly as well in my "autobiographical" stuff). I try to show you a side of myself I want you to see. I would never write--or at least show you--stuff I felt was (too) embarrassing. For that stuff, if I write it, if I even allow myself to know it, you will have to wait until I am dead and then convince the executor of my estate to show you my unpublished journals. And even then, you will only get a glimpse of the non-fictive me. The greater bulk of what I am is never written, even if I would want it to be. I am an artist, not a machine. There are not enough hours in the century. And I keep most of it well hidden, even, as I said, from my own self, while exaggerating the rest of it, to make myself look good, to both you and me.
So, I am a fiction writer, no matter how much I try not to be. (Virginia Wolf said that we start out as fiction writers and develop into autobiographers. But do we ever really leave the fiction behind? I don't think so. We only change our format or our genre. It's all fiction.) I create stories composed of more or less true and exaggerated facts strung together in (often feeble) plots. This is my work, my website, and my life. We all do this same thing, more or less. But I am more honest (he thinks) about it, maybe, because I see glimpses of the truth of human nature, that we exaggerate ourselves, and I tell you of it here (and admit to it myself), so that you (and I) might see through the facade to the "truth" that lies beneath. To do this, you must decide which elements are facts, which are exaggerations, which "true" and exaggerated facts are mine and which belong to someone else, which parts of me are the real me and which have been borrowed, how long ago those parts that were borrowed were borrowed, last week, last year, ten years ago, in childhood when I formed my basic personality, how those parts were borrowed, via psychological conditioning, psychically, in dreams and visions, intentionally as a part of an ego plan still remembered or long since forgotten, as when, for example, I might have admired and thus emulated people or fictive personas (writers, artists, movie actors, celebrities, idols, etc.) because I wanted to be like them. And when you make these decisions about the "facts" that comprise my (overall) story, keep in mind: everyone does this, not just me. You do it to and for yourself as well. This is the code we create. This is the code we must break (through) if we are to understand any person (or ourselves). Don't just read a given text (every person is a text) and take it for granted that what you are reading is factual. Find the exaggerations and follow them into the depths of the psyche, see how it functions, and examine the psychology thus revealed. This is where the truth lies, not in facts, but in the inner vision. Exaggeration is a tool, one side of a two-fold process for getting at the truth, the other side being interpretation of the code that it creates.
I also use de-exaggeration as a writing technique. I de-emphasize my strengths and pretend to a naiveté I do not really have. It's an anti-ego, or a low self-esteem thing. Or else this is just another exaggeration made to make me look like something I am not.
People think that I am not a lot of things.
I'm not.

People think I'm not religious, mostly as a result of how I criticize organized religious activity. But they don't know. I go to church all the time--when I watch tv. Television, for me, is like a religion. It tries to tell me what to believe, which, like most churchgoers, I resist, but it points me in the right direction. And occasionally, when I am afforded a particularly poignant insight, I might (temporarily) believe that I am saved.


Thoroughly Postmodern


I think
I want
to cry
I don't
know
why
(?)

A lot of times in my past I have been wrong. But a lot more times in my past, the world has been wrong, both in general and as represented by particular elements/persons in it. I must remember this conclusion at those times when I seem to want to think that this situation is one way or the other. But the problem is thinking in the first place.

Any more, all I have to do is stop thinking and I enter another world. Meditation has become an effective way of life with me, almost a second nature (it should be first), when I will stop my mental activity. I no longer have to sit and wait for it to happen, but when I do, it's even more profound. Stopping thinking also stops complaining.

I used to complain about how info gathered from the Net was superficial. But any more, I don't care. I no longer seek out in-depth information. My transition from modernism to postmodernism is nearing its completion. I would rather watch tv or films than read, a complete reversal over a twenty year period, a short time in cosmic terms.

I no longer want, to do research--or rather, I do it on the Net and settle for whatever I find. Diversion and shallow thought no longer bother me. I now see academia for what it truly is--just another form of preoccupation. There is no deep thought, only a real, deep feeling, which is the whole point of life, as any good filmmaker knows.

[Women know it too--better than men. They're hard-wired that way. It's a result of evolution, which in its profound wisdom determined that feeling is far more conducive to the efficient raising of offspring than reason is. And, after all, there is no more basic purpose of life than to propagate it. It's built into the genetic code. It's almost a religious experience, feeling.]

The Holy Grail was code for Mary Magdalene, who was the vessel that carried Jesus' seed (his child) into France. The search for the grail, thus, is the search for the bloodline of Christ. The Tarot contains this symbolism.
When Christians believe that the transubstantiation is a literal fact, that bread and wine is converted into Jesus' flesh and blood, the entire conception of metaphor is lost on them. If the first case is a sacrilege, so is the second.
Religion becomes perverted in this way. Adherents lose the feeling and replace it with reason, which becomes perverted over the millennia. No better example exists than that of friendship, which defies reason altogether.

Ex-Friends

I was loyal, to a fault. They were not. Now I wait, for others
to reveal a dedication I have shown before I recommit again.
For some reason, I am being haunted, by memories of people

I have known, who said they were my friends, but were not,
acting out, agendas they didn't know, they had, playing into
mine, a need, to be taken advantage of. I wish I'd not known

them. They're no more at fault than I, not knowing the going-
on inside. But I am even smarter now, and maybe so are they.
I doubt it. My worst fault was in not knowing how to choose.

"Do you have any gay friends?"
"No."
"Why not? Haven't you ever met any?"
"Sure. I've known a lot of gays."
"Then why aren't they your friends? Are you homophobic?"
"No."
"Then why don't you have gay friends?"
"I've had gay friends. I'd still have them, except for..."
"What?"
"I got tired of them hitting on me."
"That's not a problem. Just tell them you don't like it."
"I do. They never listened."
"Well then, they weren't your friends, were they?"
"Exactly."







Part Two
Science as Symbolic Art



Time Machine

The present exists as a meditative state.
Every other state is a past or future one.
Living, in the present, is a meditation.
Living in the past or future is time travel.



Enclosed Within, A Body    

A psyche is, a planet
she sees, solar system
approach, rendered without
lasting, briefly, too long.

Psyche is, a galaxy
collection, finity
star cousins' customs
gravity-bound together.

Psyche is, universe
of galaxies of dust
composed all of nothing
but energy and space.




Magnets have been used therapeutically in medicine for nearly 2,000 years. Iron atoms in red blood cells are believed to respond to magnetism. When a magnet is placed on a patient's body, blood flow through the area is enhanced.
 
--Wired News blurb
So, maybe there's some science behind the cult that proposes wearing magnets on your body to alleviate certain symptoms. I've always thought that was just another gimmick to sell cheap worthless shit. Live and learn.




First Britain allows cloning, and now Canada allows stem cell research. If the U.S. keeps screwing around, it's ten-cent morality is going to cost U.S. business some big bucks and a cloning gap is going to develop.

If "junk DNA" is capable of being "cloned" or "rewired" and ancient forms of man/animals are reconstructed, then this could be a big step on the way toward Tipler's reconstructed universe. Understanding this possibility, it's not hard to imagine how an "intelligent" universe interconnected via "robotization" could create in an infinity of time a virtual model, or even a real version, of the entire history of everything. I want to think that Tipler's theory is one big religious rationalization, trying to create immortality where no possibility exists. But I just don't know. Maybe it is a possibility. (Basically, what he says in his book The Physics of Immortality is that an advanced civilization (ours?) can begin sending miniature robot spacecrafts out into the universe with the mission to build copies of themselves with the ultimate aim of populating the universe with a computerized network of artificial intelligence. Once the network has reached a critical mass, it would be possible to virtually recreate the entire history of the universe (and then some) by programming every possibility, every thought ever thought and action ever taken. He does the math. The potential exists, or so he says. Then, when all these thoughts and actions are stored, it will be as if we are all alive and thinking (and acting) within the universe's computer net--which at that point would not be all that much different than what exists now (and forever) in reality, especially if the existing stored content were located on machine in the vicinity of where the thoughts/actions originally occurred. This book is published, not as science fiction, but under the guise of actual science. Far out, man. This is art. [Hey. If we can program molecules (and we can), anything's possible.]




Part Three
Government and Politics as Representational Art


Representative John Conyers writes a letter to the attorney general, asking him why he recused himself from the Enron case and not the Microsoft case.
 
Wired News, 2-15-02
The right wing of government has no one to better represent it to the American public than Donald Rumsfeld, and no one worse than John Ashcroft. Rumsfeld is outspoken and straightforward and if we don't agree with him, at least we don't get the idea when he speaks that he has something to hide. He plays his politics up front. Ashcroft, however, looks like he's trying to hide the most terrible of secrets. His very appearance reeks of dishonesty, guilt, and heavy-handed dealings. He gives even law enforcement officials a bad image. And that's not an easy thing to do, despite 9-11.
People don't trust Ashcroft for the same reason they don't trust many cops: they fear a hidden agenda. They listen to him complain in a public forum about how the hands of government are tied by antiquated laws and police procedures and they intuitively know what he is talking about: he wants more freedom to apply a heavy-handed authoritarian control over the citizenry, an agenda many conservatives agree with.
At the same time, in a logical disconnect, typical conservative and libertarians complain (what else are they good for?) about our loss of liberty, how we are never free from the constraints and interference of the federal government. To this end, they evoke the spirits of our forefathers: what would they think; what would they say, if they were here to see what we've gotten ourselves into; our founding fathers fought to be free from such intrusive governmental influence.
Who are you kidding? Don't be both blind and stupid. From the earliest days of our government, people were complaining in the very same way about the very same things. If our forefathers were here today, they say "What the fuck are you people whining about? Look how good you got it!"
We forget as we project our lifestyle backward onto the past, wanting to think our predecessors were the same as we are now, how much more difficult a life they had. They'd die to have had what we have now. As a matter of fact, they already have, many of them struggling to be free, not so much of government as of misrepresentation.

Our representatives don't represent us very well. For example, recent reports say that congress can't handle the volume of e-mail it receives, which means that previously it never represented the true views of its constituents, who previously never really had an easy access to their representatives. Most people who must sit down to write a letter can't be bothered; it's too much trouble. And making a phone call is intimidating for many people, because they must speak on the spur of the moment; they feel a certain anxiety. But with e-mail, the means is easy and the motivation is spontaneous. The fact that congress can't handle it is indicative of the fact that they have never before been presented with the true nature of constituents' feelings and opinions. And the mail they receive can't even begin to be the full range of opinions, since it represents only those who care enough to send e-mails in the first place.
But let's face it: our representatives, most of them, don't really want to represent the whole voting base anyway. They want to represent the people who put them into office--not the voters, but the people who gave them money to run their campaigns, and they want to represent themselves, which amounts to saying the same thing. That's why most of them became politicians in the first place, to better their own positions, by appealing to and appeasing the interests of the people who could actually do something for them, the people with the money.
If you don't have a sizable bankroll, you can get adequate representation only if you work at it so hard and so long that you might as well run for public office and, in the process, forget about why you wanted to in the first place, as you become entrenched in the network that allows you to accumulate a little bit of wealth by doing favors for those who have it. These are not ordinary people, politicians. They're diseased and contagious, as are the people who inform us of their activity.

The Myth of Democracy

The government is not the people.
 
a tv talking head

Hey, asshole, I have news for you. In this country, the government is the people. Where were you in civics class? I know you don't believe it, I know very few Washington bureaucrats do, when they see the functioning of day-to-day governmental operations as it excludes the people, but those operations are unconstitutional, doncha know. If the government is, as you say, not the people, then we are a country of assholes like yourself, believing in a myth. If the government is not the people, then why not? It's supposed to be. If the government is not the people, then you are the reason why, you and all the rest of your flunky administrators who prevent it from representing the people through your inept or clandestine functions, selling it to the highest bidder, you fucking asshole.
I look at reporters who do the news (or what passes for it these days) and the talking heads they interview, and I realize they don't look like me and they don't talk like me. What am I supposed to think about this? I notice this same discrepancy in businessmen and government officials. How can government officials represent me when they have no idea who I am, when their appearance and their allegiances preclude under- standing? How am I supposed not to feel disenfranchised? I look around me in the real world and I see a whole lot of people just like me, masses represented only in a token manner, with no real currency in the "mainstream" system. The disconnect between the corporate-governmental culture and those who report on it and many of the people in this country is very real, as real as it is in third world countries and as it was in Feudal times. And instead of the situation improving, it's getting worse each decade. Democracy has forever been changed by the concept of the corporation, so much so that the cabinet and congressional committees are just another form of boardroom. And tv is the attempt to bridge the gap, because it keeps people more or less placated as it lies to us by making it seem that we are a part of what's going on in business and politics when, for most of us, that couldn't be further from the truth. The run of the mill reporter is a stooge, and the real reporters (like Drudge or Nader) are made to look ridiculous--because they look like me and the masses of people I look like, common folk. We can't have any important information to impart. We're not polished enough for television.
Society (i.e., government) allows business (i.e., greedy individuals with corporate power) to scarf up all of the wealth, a natural consequence of the primary evolutionary motive (survival of the fittest). Government should be constructed so as to ameliorate the human condition, to balance our primal motives with our higher aspirations, so that prosperous conditions, or at least an equality of opportunity, is more generalized across the human population. Or should it? That's what the best governments try to do now, intentionally, but only to a very small degree. Without their intervention, we would still be in the "dark ages." The natural course of unconscious evolution is a feudal system, where a few most survivable individuals control masses of subservient serfs. But consciousness introduces a new motive: equality, which doesn't exist in the "natural" world. Our advancing state of being seems to want to say "Let's alter the course of evolution to make equality apply to every member of the species." (Ultimately, this will be applied to all species.) And if we allow this idea, then why not allow genetic engineering? We're already well on the way to complete control over our own destiny. We started the process when we became conscious.
The fact that government enables the vested interests (business) to predominate creates a cycle that feeds upon itself. The poor get poorer, have less of a vested interest in the society, do not feel so compelled to play by its rules, break the law more often, rebel against the mainstream sensibilities, become more easily marginalized, and threaten the social structure. The "well-vested" citizens then call for "social action" (its not really "social" action if it excludes a large percentage of the society from the decision-making process) to keep the "rogue" elements in line. Only government can mediate the escalation of this problem--a liberal government, or a liberal segment or motive of it (i.e., any government action which acts to alleviate this problem is by definition liberal). The vested members of society only weaken the mainstream position when they act to counter these liberal tendencies. The more conservative these members become, the more they accentuate the divide. The more they call for "law and order," the more they alienate the marginal citizen groups among whom the largest number of lawbreakers reside and maintain allegiances. When rehabilitation is abandoned in favor of punishment, the society moves toward an inevitable split that ultimately will not benefit the vested interests, which depends upon the masses for its support. Who else are they going to feed off of and sell things to?
Who will determine the course of genetic engineering?
Why, business, of course; that is, the rich.
An intelligence exists beyond us, programmed into the DNA that perpetuates serfdom. But, by that same argument, it is our DNA that has brought us to this point where we can begin to consciously manipulate it. This is self-determination.
The vested interests control and benefit from the science.
This is the wisdom of the ages, the evolutionary motive...
unless we act, consciously, to alter it.

Vested interests, of course, are not only conservative Republicans. Democrats are not much better, although, given the choice between the two, the interests of the masses are better served by the latter--but not by much. Everything else being equal, though, I'd rather know a Democrat than a Republican. Andy Rooney once said that he was against abortion, but he liked people who were for it a lot better than those who were against it. I feel the same way about Democrats and Republicans--though the difference between them is not so great.
Let's take up the case of a Democrat in the news. First of all, before I start, let me state that I am no fan of Gary Condit. He's exactly the kind of sleaze I've spent my life trying to avoid. But I'm not too fond of the rest of the characters in this exploit either. I'm sorry for the Levy family, but come on. Under other circumstances, Mrs. Levy would be as much the butt of media jokes as Linda Tripp was. As she appears on television, it looks like they got her all doped up on Valium or Lithium or something. Understandable, but give me a fucking break. I know they want to keep Chaundra's name in the news and are using the notoriety of Condit's public image to that end, but it's basically a dishonest strategy, and anyway, I think Chaundra's not dead at all,3 but hiding away somewhere trying to get Condit in a lot of trouble, causing him at best to lose his seat in the Senate, acting out a well planned out revenge. How could she, you ask, do that to her family? Come on. If my mother acted like hers, I'd do it in a minute. A double revenge, and a bid for fame as well. If this is the case, I applaud it. This is exactly the kind of ruthless behavior America needs to counteract the complacent, vested interests that the Condits and the Levys represent. And even if it's not the case, they all get what they deserve, the fat-cat bastards. Let them suffer. They make me sick. Now, if we can only zero in as well on the rest of Washington.
And then there's Anne Marie Smith. What a bitch! She pretends to be so innocent, having been pushed out into the public arena by unnamed forces. Give me another break. This is an obvious case of revenge, which I don't mind at all. Let Condit take it like the womanizer that he is. But let's not lose site of the fact that Smith is as much of a sleaze as the rest of them as she projects her own hurt onto Condit when she accuses him of being nervous and under a great deal of tension during the Connie Chung interview. I didn't see that in him at all. In fact, he looked quite calm, cold, calculating, and (ineffectually) in control. I did see the behavior she described, however, in her own self. This was self-description, denied and projected. She was quite nervous, under a great deal of tension. It showed in her face and posture. She's a classic case of a spurned lover out for revenge. Condit must be exceptionally stupid to think he could get away with what he did. He should lose his seat in the Senate for that reason alone. But, obviously, that is not a reason for the Senate to get rid of him, or for his constituents to vote him out, otherwise three-quarters of the congress would never have been elected in the first place, except that they have been able to keep their arrogant stupidity from showing publicly.

And then there's those two great presidents of the twentieth century, William Jefferson Clinton and Richard Milhouse Nixon. I have a fondness for both men, despite their foibles, their flawed personalities (or maybe, ultimately because of them), and the fact that they are politicians in the first place. [Cliinton I've liked pretty much all along. Nixon I had to learn to like well after the fact.]

Nixon was a lesson in perseverance. He paid for his mistakes. He outlived his own shame until it aged into something finer, something called courage.
 
Enid Shomer, The Other Mother
Nixon and Clinton both made BIG mistakes. At the time, I thought Nixon was the something akin to the anti-Christ. But I was young and impressionable. He wasn't so bad, I guess. Certainly not any worse than a lot of people we have since come to know and understand. Politics is a dirty business all around. After some time had passed, Nixon attempted to reclaim his dignity, and to a degree, he succeeded. As we grow old, we reflect and introspect. We see the beginnings of this same process in Clinton nowadays. After our primary careers are ended, we ruminate about their consequences, and try to put the most positive spin we can on them while we sort out the negative elements, if only privately, to atone for them. Our lives become retrospectives in this sense. It's what the waning years are for, to mull over past events, learning from them as we continue to mature and, hopefully, to develop a wisdom that eluded us earlier on. This is what I, myself, am doing now, so I have almost an empathy for these two men as I learn to deal with how much of an asshole I've been in my own life. Everyone who has not become intransient will do this same thing. Developmental intelligence dictates it. Too bad the process is so disregarded by our youth-oriented culture. I was young when Nixon was president. I, too, didn't yet understand. Clinton, Nixon, and me. Three sides of the same two-sided coin. A moderate liberal, a conservative lawyer, and a radical who falls between the cracks.

The Difference between Liberals and Conservatives

True conservatives know they are always right, are not happy unless everyone believes exactly as they do, and will go very far out of their way to make others conform to their way of life; True liberals feel they are mostly right (in the sense that feeling is at least as important as the power of reason), are quite happy to allow others the option of believing what they want to believe, and will not go very far out of their way to convince others to change, preferring to live and let live.
True liberals thought it was funny when Soupy Sales on his tv show told kids to steal money from their parents and send it to him; True conservatives thought that, at the very least, he should have lost his show and that criminal punishment would not be out of line.
Conservatives tend to be hawkish and like to impose their will on others by force of police or military action. Liberals tend to be meek and mild-mannered (but don't let that fool you. That's what Clark Kent was).

There's a poem by Mary Karr in the new Atlantic Monthly (May 2002) that defines the meek (who will inherit the earth). It argues that the meek are not peasants or serfs (nor, by analogy, the modern masses), but rather warriors (also by analogy, modern military, government and corporate sycophants), who halt and freeze at a mere word from their commander, reigning in their activities to await their instructions. It is not a unique idea that we misunderstand the Bible, but it's definitely unique that we misinterpret the nature of the meek.

And then there's, perhaps, our meekest president, Jimmy, The Peanut, Carter. The continued vilification of Carter by the right-wing press is just one more example of how conservatism fails to recognize good people. Sure, Carter wasn't a very effective president, but that's not the main criticism they have of him. That argument wore out years ago. Their most common attacks center on his liberalism and almost always criticize his person, as if he were some kind of benign demagog. They can't stand it that he has consistently, during and especially since his presidency, demonstrated a practical morality that eludes even the best of them. Okay, he doesn't live in a real world. But he knows the real world, and he strives to make it a better one, which is something that conservatives only think they are doing, when they are doing pretty much the opposite (and which Democrats mostly always try to do, but completely botch the job). Republicans fool themselves by thinking that peace and security can be won with a gun. The only things that can be won with a gun are returned gunfire and the animosity of the defeated. Carter offers diplomacy and tact, traits that seem more and more to be lacking in the conservative movement, especially as it is reported by right-wing "journalists."
Politics is a dirty business, which makes all politicains dirty. Politicians in this sense are always their own worst enemies. One of the things that endeared me to Clinton, after I started out hating him, was what the Republicans did to him, the dirty politics disguised as righteous indignation. And now, despite starting out liking them, I hate what Gephardt, Hillary, et al. are trying to do to Bush, pretending to be so concerned with running an investigation into what he knew and when he knew it, when they know damn well their only motivation is to win the next election. This is the seedy side of politics, and I dislike it immensely. It turns my stomach.
On the other hand, it serves a higher purpose: party politics motivates investigations where there otherwise would be none. Competition for office promotes the system of checks and balances. Never mind that most of what is investigated turns out to be a pig in a poke. (The really evil people get away with it by spinning the issues, or else they cop pleas--or else they're too far behind the scenes or too isolated by buffers to ever be gotten to.) It's the rivalry that creates democracy, when it isn't subverted by backroom shenanigans (which it almost always is). In short, politics is not about representation. It's about power. And Republicans, because they tend to be willing to use power more indescriminately, tend to be better at it--in the short run. (It doesn't hurt to have big business on your side.) In the longer run, democracy does work, checking the excesses by voting the bastards out. But in the meantime, lots of little people get squashed.

I have no problem with conservative politicians exercising their power and influence to protect big business interests. I seldom agree with their opinions, but I understand them. They're protecting their investments and those of their support base. But I have a big problem with why conservatives in general feel that they must impose their values upon everyone. People have every right to try to influence others; people have no right to impose their values. That's not what democracy is all about. Conservatives, generally, are far less democratic than liberals are. (But then, I guess liberals are far less republican.)






Part Four
Business as Antithesis



A marketing executive dressed in hippy
clothes is still a marketing executive.
 
Mr. Science, PBS radio


"I'm going to adopt a new philosophy. I'm going to do something different everyday, with respect to task and time scheduling, I mean."
"So, what's new about that?"
"Right. I mean, I'm going to adopt that as a formal policy, because it's what I do anyway, after I schedule my day in the same old way and then disregard the schedule. Except, I'm going to keep those same old "core tasks," writing, posting, reading, therapy, and maybe a few others--because they work."
"Sounds like the same old thing to me."

A pathologically independent teenager dressed in a business suit that he forsakes for jeans and a t-shirt in the evenings and on week-ends is still a pathologically independent teenager, except that he's grown old.

Despite a repeated and dedicated effort at it, time management and scheduling never worked for me until after I stopped working for an employer and started working for myself. Even then, it took me several years to get it all straightened out and several more to modify my expectations to the point where I could establish a workable system. It seems that I had been thoroughly programmed by employers who had been way too demanding, and after I freed myself from them, I tried unwittingly for several years to carry those demands with me into my personal agenda. You cannot effectively manage your time if what is expected of you far outdistances your ability to get it done, even if, or maybe especially if you are the one who is doing the expecting. All you end up doing is chasing your tail, and thinking something is wrong with you because you can't make an obviously good time management system work for you. You come to think of yourself as incompetent, when after all it is the system that you're working in, the bare-boned, understaffed workplace, where the real incompetence exists, or its model that you adopt in your personal work and life. When you come to terms with your real (as opposed to ideal or fictive) capacity, then you see how effective time management can work for you. [I write about this as if I manage my time effectively all of the time. Actually, I manage it well about 25% of the time (which is a big improvement). The rest of the time, I'm too bored to be bothered. Now, if this had only been the case when I was working at a job. I could have dealt with that situation. I could have, at least, understood what the problem was. As it were, I was too busy to ever have seen that I was bored. But as it turned out, I was bored and didn't know it. I was too busy to know I was bored--and it would have been to death if I hadn't crashed first from stress-related illness.]


* * * * * * * * * *

Companies, bowing to popular pressure, now go out of their way to give you the possibility of opting out of their mailing list sales program. Privacy statements abound. I have a pile of them on my desk that I intend to respond to, to be removed from mailing lists and to prevent my name and information from being sold to other organizations and individuals. Given all the other things I have to do, I know I'll never get around to doing this. So I think that the privacy policies do not go far enough. Companies should be required to ask your permission to allow them to sell your personal information and to send you bullshit advertisements. If they were required to do this, the bottom would drop out of the mailing list sales business. This, in itself, should be an indication of how much of a value it is to the citizens of the world. Never mind that it is of some (dubious) value to businesses. When did we cross that line that this was a democracy of the businesses, by the businesses, and for the businesses? Actually, it's always been this way, but now it's been theorized and legalized. The great minds of the twentieth century decided that in order to have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, we must be prosperous, and that prosperity is essentially created by business, not by free and independent individuals.



Capitalism may motivate productivity and initiative, but there are areas in which it stifles advancement. One such area is research into natural supplements. Because drug companies can't proprietarize the substances, they won't do research on them. And the government sees no benefit in funding the research. Thus, we (citizens of the earth) are left without the benefit of proper research on a collection of potentially valuable substances. Combine that with the bad press created by drug companies who want the competition (herbal supplement distributors) stifled, and you have a situation that is anti-health. (Drug manufacturers are anti-health to begin with. If we have health, we don't need them.)



I don't know why I never realized this before, but the corporate monoculture is not a postmodern phenomenon. I, and other postmodern writers I have read, have been assuming that it is, as if the corporation, which has contributed so much to postmodern format and content, has become the essence of the movement, when in fact it has become its most profound antithesis through its agenda to level out the disparity between the widely varying components. The monoculture phenomenon is a reaction (or a proaction) by the corporations to negate the effects of postmodern multiculturalism. And the sad thing is that they seem to be succeeding. When Elton John says he won't make any more records because of the state of the music industry, he is bewailing the corporate monoculture. When independent bookstore owners complain that they cannot compete with the superstores (cf. You've Got Mail) and authors complain they are being pigeonholed/edited into a declining number of narrowing categories, they are bewailing the corporate monoculture. This is the next stage beyond postmodernism. The Monoculture. The next victim: Afghanistan, which is a millenniums-old multicultural environment being enticed by a benevolent war (as Bush would have the local people believe) into the twenty-first century. (Actually, before the Taliban began the reign of Terror, they were already well on the way. Witness the recent news spots that show the Afghans, freed from their oppressors, pulling out stocks of old Michael Jackson tapes and selling them in the streets.)


random notes

"Don't project your unconscious fears and/or feelings onto me. They're not my feelings. They're yours."


Business should not be the problem, it should be the solution--not only for businessmen, but for everyone.


I wouldn't want the government wasting my hard earned tax dollars on munitions to kill people with--except that none of my meager income is my hard-earned money any more, and all of it is tax-sheltered.


The only way to guarantee working citizens of the world an adequate minimum wage to insure their survival is to limit the maximum wage that is earned. In any given system, there are only so much resources available for wages and salaries. The more the big guys get, the less the little ones get.


Life is free. We all agree, deep down.
You might think it's not, but that's just
social conditioning overriding basic nature.
The Kapitalist Kulture makes you believe
it costs lots of money to support your life.
I look forward to a time when digital
existence is ubiquitous, when we access
each other as free individuals, without
artificial corporate pecuniary filters.


"Due to popular demand, we are extending our special offer."

I keep seeing this popping up in ads all over the place. They rub it in my face so much that I feel I have to comment. Don't they know how obvious this is? It means: we didn't get enough of a response last time, so we're going try again and maybe this time we'll be able to dupe more of you into buying into our scheme. I must work, though. Otherwise, they'd stop using it. People must still be that stupid.


If it's required to be done right away, then there's probably something wrong with it. If it can't wait to be fit into my (non)schedule system, then it can't be that important. Anything that's so important that it demands immediate attention probably has something to do with someone getting some of my money. Anything of real value can be done at any time. Real value is not time-specific. It is ubiquitous and timeless. If it really has to be done right away, then it better be in my own self-interest to do it. My own personal financial matters are the only things that I can think of that are of such immediate importance. If it's going to cost me more money if I hesitate, then that's the only reason to act immediately, except that I might actually want to do it. Your financial matters are not important to me. Don't act toward me as if they are. It'll only slow me down even more.


When I discover that an advertiser has sneaked an ad into a format that I had been assuming was the mainstream content of the medium I am perusing (such as those surreptitious ads that appear in the headlines crawls at the bottom of your tv screen or ads inserted into newsletter bodies without a word of transition, or tv commercials that pretend to be content), I immediately make a definitive mental note: never buy that product.







Part Five










[Click on the footnote number to return to that respective point in the text.]

1. "Once you start compromising your thoughts, you're a candidate for mediocrity." --Neil Simon, Biloxi Blues

2. It's a questionable choice of words, but I believe it to be a correct one.

3. I know this is in very poor taste, especially in light of ensuing events, where they found Chandra's decomposed body and she has been, in fact, dead all along. But, hey, what can I say. I'm an asshole. What? You didn't already know that?

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