Perhaps the two-part combination of restless inactivity and the smoldering heat is to blame for my recent lack of motivation, or perhaps better put, inspiration. It's insufferably warm, and every day feels like a Sunday afternoon. Time beats slowly, the ebb that carries us from moment to moment has skipped its cue and it seems to have left me cemented in a fraction of existence that I am desperate to escape. Pressure flows inwardly from all sources and there seems to be no relief in sight, this damned heat carries it all with itself and diffuses it within my mind, along my body, it consumes the world around me in a blaze of ignominy.
When will the summer end?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The loudness of flesh.
There are times when I can't fathom how human contact takes place, or perhaps more succinctly, how human beings could stand it. Flesh scrapes against flesh like nails over a chalkboard, the skin of another exists loudly, like a thousand supernovas expanding before you. It may sound like a terribly foolish thing to ask (and perhaps in retrospect I will kick myself for ever writing it down for anyone to see), but why does wanton desire exist in a rational setting? It is mildly disturbing that perhaps those who are more indulgent with the matter would be quick to laud it with a loud plaudit while completely disregarding all forms of sensible consideration- of course I am not denying that the desire to feel one another isn't there, but the fact that it involves each other is sometimes disheartening for me.
How should I better explain this? Humanity is immured within its own pagan temple, we are at no loss of offerings, burnt sacrifices and incense to lay down zealously; however the temple renders no praise to any god, the temple is swollen and ancient, it is fat and rotting, its very worshipers endeavor against it in a slip of madness and confusion. Flesh pulsates like a wound, from within it writhes and rips the muscle tissue raw, it is perhaps too bloated, putrid even. Again, that is not to say I have no desire for flesh, it is not I who harbors this madness, but the madness itself harbors me, I am bound to it by physiological function, it is desirable, it is natural, but when faced against conscientious consideration, it's almost disgusting. I believe it all has to do with the noise of existence. All objects generate their own harmonic waves based on the vibrational pattern of their atoms, perhaps even deeper still by the vibrational pattern of their strings.
There is a certain noise that follows as a 'thing' is constructed to serve a function (rather than being inherently 'it') by way of geometry, how the separate lumps of matter are placed together to form a possible object; the atoms coexist and are arranged in euclidean (and non-euclidean) geometry as we all have come to know; the sound waves are amplified and though you could not directly experience it as a part of everyday life, it is there. It rings loud and true and sometimes low and meekly, but everything bears its own noise. Even darkness which we have come to so comfortably define as inaudible and mysterious bears a tell-tale pitch, that is how we know darkness overcomes us, the eerie hum that an opaque wave of sheets carries permeates our minds more than we'd like to allow it. I recall an afternoon when I was leaving my car and I was walking towards a the train station, something, that at this point was still unknown to me, beckoned me to fix my vision and full attention upon a green pick-up truck adjacent from my own vehicle. I did not know it then, but I slowly realized how loudly it existed, its ugly gaudy colors, the elongated and thick shape of the frame, the black windows and battered wheels, and of course if that was not enough, a careless man managed to bump against it, making contact with the vehicle suddenly thrust me out of the daze it had swept me into, I was aware once again of my surroundings, but particularly of the man that bumped against it. The man now existed too, not as an extension of the matter around him, that is to say, not as another geometric creation of atoms, but he was an entirely different entity, he could move, yet he existed with less fanfare than the vehicle ever did, perhaps it was his silent way of walking, his timid expression, he was a little like me, perhaps he too wanted to coyly slip between the cracks of space and time merely to observe... yet he did not, be it on accident or on purpose, deterministic or otherwise, he touched the car and by extension he touched my mind, my thoughts- though all of this was quickly overshadowed by what followed merely moments later when the vehicle's automated alarm system was activated. The noise was everywhere, the car's noise was everywhere, it penetrated the matter around it and that which was not penetrated merely reflected it making it ten times as loud and clamorous. It was the boisterous roar of existence, such a simplistic example, but there it was, it was no longer feint as it had been for the rest of my life, it was just everywhere. The sound prompted me to react, quite negatively at that, because I could not bear it, I felt the contemplative silence in my dissipate and my thoughts slip away into oblivion, it felt as if all there was or ever would be was that infernal resonance; and such is the way of flesh.
For all its hubris, it is clear that its charm shall never escape me and though it may blare, sometimes incessantly, to refuse its beauty too would be foolish. It is the indiscreet indulgence in its paroxysm that always coaxes memories of the loudness of flesh.
How should I better explain this? Humanity is immured within its own pagan temple, we are at no loss of offerings, burnt sacrifices and incense to lay down zealously; however the temple renders no praise to any god, the temple is swollen and ancient, it is fat and rotting, its very worshipers endeavor against it in a slip of madness and confusion. Flesh pulsates like a wound, from within it writhes and rips the muscle tissue raw, it is perhaps too bloated, putrid even. Again, that is not to say I have no desire for flesh, it is not I who harbors this madness, but the madness itself harbors me, I am bound to it by physiological function, it is desirable, it is natural, but when faced against conscientious consideration, it's almost disgusting. I believe it all has to do with the noise of existence. All objects generate their own harmonic waves based on the vibrational pattern of their atoms, perhaps even deeper still by the vibrational pattern of their strings.
There is a certain noise that follows as a 'thing' is constructed to serve a function (rather than being inherently 'it') by way of geometry, how the separate lumps of matter are placed together to form a possible object; the atoms coexist and are arranged in euclidean (and non-euclidean) geometry as we all have come to know; the sound waves are amplified and though you could not directly experience it as a part of everyday life, it is there. It rings loud and true and sometimes low and meekly, but everything bears its own noise. Even darkness which we have come to so comfortably define as inaudible and mysterious bears a tell-tale pitch, that is how we know darkness overcomes us, the eerie hum that an opaque wave of sheets carries permeates our minds more than we'd like to allow it. I recall an afternoon when I was leaving my car and I was walking towards a the train station, something, that at this point was still unknown to me, beckoned me to fix my vision and full attention upon a green pick-up truck adjacent from my own vehicle. I did not know it then, but I slowly realized how loudly it existed, its ugly gaudy colors, the elongated and thick shape of the frame, the black windows and battered wheels, and of course if that was not enough, a careless man managed to bump against it, making contact with the vehicle suddenly thrust me out of the daze it had swept me into, I was aware once again of my surroundings, but particularly of the man that bumped against it. The man now existed too, not as an extension of the matter around him, that is to say, not as another geometric creation of atoms, but he was an entirely different entity, he could move, yet he existed with less fanfare than the vehicle ever did, perhaps it was his silent way of walking, his timid expression, he was a little like me, perhaps he too wanted to coyly slip between the cracks of space and time merely to observe... yet he did not, be it on accident or on purpose, deterministic or otherwise, he touched the car and by extension he touched my mind, my thoughts- though all of this was quickly overshadowed by what followed merely moments later when the vehicle's automated alarm system was activated. The noise was everywhere, the car's noise was everywhere, it penetrated the matter around it and that which was not penetrated merely reflected it making it ten times as loud and clamorous. It was the boisterous roar of existence, such a simplistic example, but there it was, it was no longer feint as it had been for the rest of my life, it was just everywhere. The sound prompted me to react, quite negatively at that, because I could not bear it, I felt the contemplative silence in my dissipate and my thoughts slip away into oblivion, it felt as if all there was or ever would be was that infernal resonance; and such is the way of flesh.
For all its hubris, it is clear that its charm shall never escape me and though it may blare, sometimes incessantly, to refuse its beauty too would be foolish. It is the indiscreet indulgence in its paroxysm that always coaxes memories of the loudness of flesh.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Siao-sin.
I have found that as of late the mornings on our timid little island have been nothing short of unbearably pleasant. The weather has cooled down considerably in sharp contrast to the objectionable heat wave that had washed upon us, a most welcome change. Perhaps more importantly the cold also marks a stark silence in all things; it is as the birth of the universe, after all the fanfare and loudness of existence and creation in a fraction of a second comes the deceptively simple quiet.
The universe was a cold, opaque space merely 3 minutes after its conception, emptiness proliferated in what little space had expanded and though its fearful symmetry had since been devoured by the violent rapt and strewn fabrics of reality it was very much at its preferred state. Yes, nature, though ruthlessly fair and neutral in its adjudication had already chosen its natural disposition, the tense span of its dimensional gamut was a strain it could not bear and thus a separation was immanent, this is in fact how the world as we know it eventually came to be, it splintered from a 10 dimensional universe to a 4 and 6 dimensional universe; imagine if you will a small bed sheet wrapped tightly upon a large bed, if you somehow managed to successfully cling each corner the strain would be so great that eventually the sheet would either rip or pull one of its corners free, returning to a state where less potential energy is amassed. The most natural state of energy is to be free, no matter how one would endeavor to seduce it into captivity one would always fail to harvest it for long, water trapped behind a dam wants to flow, helium inside a balloon wants to escape, an object traveling at high velocity wants to collide with another, it is just how nature behaves. And so it is the same with us, man wants to fall, man wants to escape, man wants to flow, man wants to suffer violent collisions at the expense of his own being because buried within us is the same inherent desire for freedom, the kind of truth that not only sets you free but disintegrates your body and your mind flinging your atoms free from its physiological obligations and dissipating your consciousness into the visible world and what lies beyond the infinite dusk at the edge of our universe. However to achieve this one requires more than just introspective devotion, one could swear off living in accordance to all sorts of social norms and never truly live his idealized vision of personal freedom and perhaps therein lies the mistake. What matter of freedom do we speak of when we describe it? Is it limitless possibilities? Boundless decisions unaffected and untainted by conscious objectivity? Is it a derailment or a complete segregation from the norms imposed on us since the day we are born? Is it shedding arbitrary morality and growing into our own version of it? These variables are too great to simply dismiss, these and many others simply stare at your face and taunt you as if boldly proclaiming that thousands of years of social evolution and human history could never be subjugated by a mere thought or action, however, and bear with me here for the idea sounds somewhat romantic, this is not at all the truth. These are addendums, side notes, annotations, footnotes, a mere supplement designed to drown the will to understand and replace it with the will to faith. What is freedom then? Freedom is knowledge, understanding of reality, to truly posses the cognition is not to simply see or hear but to pierce mass and matter and look within the constructs built around it and to realize that it is all utterly meaningless. All exertions end in nothing and our desires for freedom or captivity are all vanity because the truth is the one thing that immanently transcends all that is and ever will be, and this truth is nature and its own inherent properties, the nature of man is to distort and aggrandize itself and the value of its perception whereas the nature of reality is simply to be without the pretense of conscientious expectation of any kind, nature remains inherent unto itself, and this is the mystery I have uncovered, an idea so simple and austere most would choose to bury it beneath the weight of a higher expectation, a weight that is no weight at all, but an illusion as empty as dead space, and not nearly as beautiful. Embracing the emptiness of our struggle in no way cheapens our conscientious experience, not at all; it is the only way to merit it purport.
It is precisely in this silence where I could ever hope to see such a thing, these fleeting moments of stillness will soon slip into the coils of time, and they will forever leave traces of the truth imprinted on my mind.
The universe was a cold, opaque space merely 3 minutes after its conception, emptiness proliferated in what little space had expanded and though its fearful symmetry had since been devoured by the violent rapt and strewn fabrics of reality it was very much at its preferred state. Yes, nature, though ruthlessly fair and neutral in its adjudication had already chosen its natural disposition, the tense span of its dimensional gamut was a strain it could not bear and thus a separation was immanent, this is in fact how the world as we know it eventually came to be, it splintered from a 10 dimensional universe to a 4 and 6 dimensional universe; imagine if you will a small bed sheet wrapped tightly upon a large bed, if you somehow managed to successfully cling each corner the strain would be so great that eventually the sheet would either rip or pull one of its corners free, returning to a state where less potential energy is amassed. The most natural state of energy is to be free, no matter how one would endeavor to seduce it into captivity one would always fail to harvest it for long, water trapped behind a dam wants to flow, helium inside a balloon wants to escape, an object traveling at high velocity wants to collide with another, it is just how nature behaves. And so it is the same with us, man wants to fall, man wants to escape, man wants to flow, man wants to suffer violent collisions at the expense of his own being because buried within us is the same inherent desire for freedom, the kind of truth that not only sets you free but disintegrates your body and your mind flinging your atoms free from its physiological obligations and dissipating your consciousness into the visible world and what lies beyond the infinite dusk at the edge of our universe. However to achieve this one requires more than just introspective devotion, one could swear off living in accordance to all sorts of social norms and never truly live his idealized vision of personal freedom and perhaps therein lies the mistake. What matter of freedom do we speak of when we describe it? Is it limitless possibilities? Boundless decisions unaffected and untainted by conscious objectivity? Is it a derailment or a complete segregation from the norms imposed on us since the day we are born? Is it shedding arbitrary morality and growing into our own version of it? These variables are too great to simply dismiss, these and many others simply stare at your face and taunt you as if boldly proclaiming that thousands of years of social evolution and human history could never be subjugated by a mere thought or action, however, and bear with me here for the idea sounds somewhat romantic, this is not at all the truth. These are addendums, side notes, annotations, footnotes, a mere supplement designed to drown the will to understand and replace it with the will to faith. What is freedom then? Freedom is knowledge, understanding of reality, to truly posses the cognition is not to simply see or hear but to pierce mass and matter and look within the constructs built around it and to realize that it is all utterly meaningless. All exertions end in nothing and our desires for freedom or captivity are all vanity because the truth is the one thing that immanently transcends all that is and ever will be, and this truth is nature and its own inherent properties, the nature of man is to distort and aggrandize itself and the value of its perception whereas the nature of reality is simply to be without the pretense of conscientious expectation of any kind, nature remains inherent unto itself, and this is the mystery I have uncovered, an idea so simple and austere most would choose to bury it beneath the weight of a higher expectation, a weight that is no weight at all, but an illusion as empty as dead space, and not nearly as beautiful. Embracing the emptiness of our struggle in no way cheapens our conscientious experience, not at all; it is the only way to merit it purport.
It is precisely in this silence where I could ever hope to see such a thing, these fleeting moments of stillness will soon slip into the coils of time, and they will forever leave traces of the truth imprinted on my mind.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The atoms of my youth.
My fascination with the unseen universe started at a more or less early age. I must have been around 6 years old when I first started to notice how structure and symmetry, as I would come to know it future years, play a large role in how everything exists.
My first experience was right at home. A television set is relatively simple on the outside: a large glass screen, a rectangular box that encased the screen in order to protect it, several inlets for RCA plugs, small buttons arranged neatly next to each other for various controls, and a corked rod with a small hole in it where you could attach a coaxial cable to receive data. As we all know, the inside is a completely different story, once you remove the plastic covering the television set has, there is another world within, in fact, it almost resembles a small city. Transistors, capacitors, diodes, all arranged atop a relatively small board plastered with magnetic strips that allows information and electricity to flow freely between the aforementioned pieces, and above the board lords a giant cathode tube; a tube which contains an electron gun (quite appropriately named since it the source of electrons in a cathode tube). Its main function is often taken for granted, the process that happens within is fantastic; the electron gun fires off an electron beam which is bent, accelerated and deflected to form the images we see on screen. One of my earliest experiments I recall was pouring a glass of water into a television set in my mother's bedroom, oblivious to the catastrophic results, my inquiries lead me to understand that systems depend on subsystems to function, and perhaps more profoundly, to exist at all.
The second encounter with a concrete example of symmetry and order came in the form of entomology. As a child I was (and still am) fascinated by insects, particularly ants. These little arthropods are meticulous in their planning, their execution is flawless. I would spend hours watching long lines of ants travelling from one place to another, they would occasionally bump into each other, however this would not dissuade or confuse them, they would simply feel each other for a moment and continue on their way. I remember thinking how mechanical their interactions with the outer world and each other were, when it came to foreign objects they needed only to probe its outskirts, sometimes not even nearing it to determine whether or not it was favorable to approach, in fact they rarely often ventured from the chemical trail left by the first scouts that had already explored the area. Their nature fascinated me and to this day it still does, such a high degree of order is worthy of admiration.
The third, and perhaps most meaningful encounter with the unseen world came when I was in the 6th grade. I must have been around 11 or 12 years old and it occurred in my science class. My teacher began to tell us about these very small objects known as atoms, she told us that there was such a great number of them contained in the universe, and even in the air around us, that we would go insane if we were able to see them. It was a particularly gripping statement, I had never considered everything around me as anything other than what it was, everything around me was simply defined by its function, as far as I knew, the world was an empty husk that man had filled with purpose. Looking back on it, her claim is perhaps one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard, as a child I believed I could see atoms. Sometimes when our eyes are still or focused, a thin, fuzzy layer of dots seems to cover our visible field, being an impressionable child I could only assume that these were atoms and that I was witnessing them fill the world around me, they swirled and danced elegantly swallowing everything up with their invisible graces and there I was, a boy who for no apparent reason was fortunate enough to see it all happening. Of course, presumably I am more educated now and I know this is not the case, but at times, when in the peaceful quiet of my solitude I ponder, and I often find myself staring into infinity only to find myself still trying to catch glimpses of the atoms of my youth.
My first experience was right at home. A television set is relatively simple on the outside: a large glass screen, a rectangular box that encased the screen in order to protect it, several inlets for RCA plugs, small buttons arranged neatly next to each other for various controls, and a corked rod with a small hole in it where you could attach a coaxial cable to receive data. As we all know, the inside is a completely different story, once you remove the plastic covering the television set has, there is another world within, in fact, it almost resembles a small city. Transistors, capacitors, diodes, all arranged atop a relatively small board plastered with magnetic strips that allows information and electricity to flow freely between the aforementioned pieces, and above the board lords a giant cathode tube; a tube which contains an electron gun (quite appropriately named since it the source of electrons in a cathode tube). Its main function is often taken for granted, the process that happens within is fantastic; the electron gun fires off an electron beam which is bent, accelerated and deflected to form the images we see on screen. One of my earliest experiments I recall was pouring a glass of water into a television set in my mother's bedroom, oblivious to the catastrophic results, my inquiries lead me to understand that systems depend on subsystems to function, and perhaps more profoundly, to exist at all.
The second encounter with a concrete example of symmetry and order came in the form of entomology. As a child I was (and still am) fascinated by insects, particularly ants. These little arthropods are meticulous in their planning, their execution is flawless. I would spend hours watching long lines of ants travelling from one place to another, they would occasionally bump into each other, however this would not dissuade or confuse them, they would simply feel each other for a moment and continue on their way. I remember thinking how mechanical their interactions with the outer world and each other were, when it came to foreign objects they needed only to probe its outskirts, sometimes not even nearing it to determine whether or not it was favorable to approach, in fact they rarely often ventured from the chemical trail left by the first scouts that had already explored the area. Their nature fascinated me and to this day it still does, such a high degree of order is worthy of admiration.
The third, and perhaps most meaningful encounter with the unseen world came when I was in the 6th grade. I must have been around 11 or 12 years old and it occurred in my science class. My teacher began to tell us about these very small objects known as atoms, she told us that there was such a great number of them contained in the universe, and even in the air around us, that we would go insane if we were able to see them. It was a particularly gripping statement, I had never considered everything around me as anything other than what it was, everything around me was simply defined by its function, as far as I knew, the world was an empty husk that man had filled with purpose. Looking back on it, her claim is perhaps one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard, as a child I believed I could see atoms. Sometimes when our eyes are still or focused, a thin, fuzzy layer of dots seems to cover our visible field, being an impressionable child I could only assume that these were atoms and that I was witnessing them fill the world around me, they swirled and danced elegantly swallowing everything up with their invisible graces and there I was, a boy who for no apparent reason was fortunate enough to see it all happening. Of course, presumably I am more educated now and I know this is not the case, but at times, when in the peaceful quiet of my solitude I ponder, and I often find myself staring into infinity only to find myself still trying to catch glimpses of the atoms of my youth.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
An ad hoc introduction.
This is a personal blog that I will be keeping. In many ways it'll serve as a cathartic tool; to expunge just what I am not quite sure yet. To begin, some days I feel as if my sense of self is slipping, my mind disassociates itself from what is known as "I", perhaps it is the same symptoms D'aquili explained in one of his many research papers on the state of consciousness and perception relating to the world around us (or at least, what we perceive to be 'around us'). A temporary dissociative loss of ego would perhaps be the best way to describe it, the differences between myself and the natural world around me narrows, I no longer identify with rhombos (which will be my name from hereon) and perhaps it would be folly to call it a feeling, so let us for now dub it an eloquent kinship for all things universal and subatomic that overtakes me. An atom is no longer an atom in function, but an atom in being, its existence is no longer defined by its relationship to other objects in existence but rather relative to itself, to its essence, to what it truly is- which I am starting to realize we do not understand all that well, if at all. The precedent for this confusion has been set for well over a century with Thompson's infamous discovery of the electron and the subsequently inspired experiments, such as the gold foil experiment, that have in a way complicated our understanding of the building blocks of matter. Of course, it is now evident that we need not be confused by a mere set of three elementary particles (electron, neutron and proton) but a whole host of bosons, fermions, mesons, and quarks- who also, by the way, exist in a rich variety of 'flavors and colors'- as well as plethora of exotic subatomic particles that have been considered elementary since their discovery, an event that has left scientists somewhat baffled as they attempt to sort out which of the thousands upon thousands are indeed actually elementary.
Barring any further digressions, I believe this serves as an adequate introduction to the dilemma at hand, which is still, I am afraid, somewhat vague and nonspecific. It should bear repeating then that this exists mostly as an archival tool designed to keep my thoughts ordered as sometimes an idea would overtake me and it would seem as if nothing else matters... in fact sometimes my only desire is for the world to fall apart, to crumble at its foundations and leave only me and my thoughts so I could consider and expand them forever, I wish for everyone to disappear, relationships of all manners become inconsequantial and all that matters is understanding these almost prophetic epiphanies, these bits and crumbs of understanding that tear off ever so quietly and succintly from the frayed, yet unbearably elegant fabric of reality. I listen and watch for them every day in the folds of space, I can't help but be fascinated by their existence. All in due time, I suppose, because when there is no time it is apparent that we have all the time in the universe.
Barring any further digressions, I believe this serves as an adequate introduction to the dilemma at hand, which is still, I am afraid, somewhat vague and nonspecific. It should bear repeating then that this exists mostly as an archival tool designed to keep my thoughts ordered as sometimes an idea would overtake me and it would seem as if nothing else matters... in fact sometimes my only desire is for the world to fall apart, to crumble at its foundations and leave only me and my thoughts so I could consider and expand them forever, I wish for everyone to disappear, relationships of all manners become inconsequantial and all that matters is understanding these almost prophetic epiphanies, these bits and crumbs of understanding that tear off ever so quietly and succintly from the frayed, yet unbearably elegant fabric of reality. I listen and watch for them every day in the folds of space, I can't help but be fascinated by their existence. All in due time, I suppose, because when there is no time it is apparent that we have all the time in the universe.
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