Visions of a beach

*

Look at it! Two eyes, two eyes. I sit pinned down, stunned silent. Some dualism of vision. One eye sees while the other observes. While this observes, that sees. This and that. The palm knows everything, I suppose!

*

*

Fishes inside my head. My lover in the water and I can't swim. She swims away while only the blood flows this way. It is a beautiful cosmology where imitations galore. What one eye sees is what all eyes must see!

*

*

Stories abound in this Universe. Opinions are injected into each page, into every page, all going in, in and in. Limitless volume... or really? There are no ears and no eyes, no flavours and no odours. The fabula must live and the sujet must die. It must, expended, die!

*

*

Why must I listen? There are stories everywhere, characters, plots, words, ideas, people, their avarice... their avarice! Idiots! Demons! The inheritance of loss is scarring, the reward for neonatality! Steps and ladders, snakes and bosoms, where are my fortunes?

*

*

Skin and bones, wherewith there struts a holy cleavage, the thin line between illusion and the eternity of godliness! Am I there? I must be there. It is as what I imagined it to be. Be blessed, my child! You are no longer polluted. You are the polluting all-dirt.

Visions of a beach

*

Look at it! Two eyes, two eyes. I sit pinned down, stunned silent. Some dualism of vision. One eye sees while the other observes. While this observes, that sees. This and that. The palm knows everything, I suppose!

*

*

Fishes inside my head. My lover in the water and I can't swim. She swims away while only the blood flows this way. It is a beautiful cosmology where imitations galore. What one eye sees is what all eyes must see!

*

*

Stories abound in this Universe. Opinions are injected into each page, into every page, all going in, in and in. Limitless volume... or really? There are no ears and no eyes, no flavours and no odours. The fabula must live and the sujet must die. It must, expended, die!

*

*

Why must I listen? There are stories everywhere, characters, plots, words, ideas, people, their avarice... their avarice! Idiots! Demons! The inheritance of loss is scarring, the reward for neonatality! Steps and ladders, snakes and bosoms, where are my fortunes?

*

*

Skin and bones, wherewith there struts a holy cleavage, the thin line between illusion and the eternity of godliness! Am I there? I must be there. It is as what I imagined it to be. Be blessed, my child! You are no longer polluted. You are the polluting all-dirt.

Microcosm of blasphemies

Smoke and Nebula have met once! I've come to believe that all smoke and all nebulae have some depth-any amount of depth that is some-and of Smoke's depth, I'm intrigued. He is rich, he is happily settled, perhaps happily joined, too-however small the chance of that may be-and has the one Cloud from that one meeting. Whenever we converse, he reveals not much; he is quick to crack a joke, he is quick to sprout in laughter, he is quick to philanthropy, and his demeanour only tells me he gives away so that he may receive in return the right to condescension. Agreed, altruism is a false virtue; nevertheless, Smoke is, by the looks of it, plastic: the veritable subject of any inquisition on the foibles of human nature, a true man-not the manly man, but the one who has known damage and, thereafter, recovered to completion, a true man.

The phenomenon of sexual arousal

Sexual arousal is not a purely biological phenomenon, a hypothesis that has received twofold confirmation in the form of the existence of homosexual tendencies and the enjoyment of power-play, both of which—however strictly or liberally speaking—can never come to assume a completely corporeal design. While there are those who may argue that homosexuality, by way of being only a product certain circumstances, whose nature can further be diagnosed with the assistance of investigative and psychological techniques, becomes a curable phenomenon; be that (the argument) as it may, homosexuality is a social phenomena and not a biological one, and therefore, its "eradication" will leave in its wake a social bremsstrahlung just as any attempts to alter the body's biological imperatives—whether in measures or means—causes a side-effect.

That being said, I would choose to set aside the case of homosexuality and, with the assumption of its "case" being settled, pick up the subject of sensual power-play for discussion, an eagerness that reflects my enjoyment of the same: I enjoy being dominated as well as to dominate. With the conscious consensus of a partner, I find that I am able to achieve increased levels of pleasure and satisfaction when engaged in role-playing activities that, as a matter of discernment, constitute a non-uniformity of intentions, desires, aggression and/or will—id est, allow one partner to dominate over the other in a matter that is decidedly aphysical and emotional in its essence. While often erroneously, and much to my chagrin, being dubbed as an act of "escapism", sensual power-play suffers from its rejection as a valid form of human expression: while being pushed toward "accepting" a behavioural garb that is closer to an act of prostitution than anything else, misguided social and cultural traditions ensure that an individual's choice of an alternate lifestyle is condemned by the chooser himself, eventuating 1. a scenario in which such practices remain "taboo" despite being secretly common, and 2. the simultaneous muting of the voice that sought to "break free".

The phenomenon of sexual arousal

Sexual arousal is not a purely biological phenomenon, a hypothesis that has received twofold confirmation in the form of the existence of homosexual tendencies and the enjoyment of power-play, both of which—however strictly or liberally speaking—can never come to assume a completely corporeal design. While there are those who may argue that homosexuality, by way of being only a product certain circumstances, whose nature can further be diagnosed with the assistance of investigative and psychological techniques, becomes a curable phenomenon; be that (the argument) as it may, homosexuality is a social phenomena and not a biological one, and therefore, its "eradication" will leave in its wake a social bremsstrahlung just as any attempts to alter the body's biological imperatives—whether in measures or means—causes a side-effect.

That being said, I would choose to set aside the case of homosexuality and, with the assumption of its "case" being settled, pick up the subject of sensual power-play for discussion, an eagerness that reflects my enjoyment of the same: I enjoy being dominated as well as to dominate. With the conscious consensus of a partner, I find that I am able to achieve increased levels of pleasure and satisfaction when engaged in role-playing activities that, as a matter of discernment, constitute a non-uniformity of intentions, desires, aggression and/or will—id est, allow one partner to dominate over the other in a matter that is decidedly aphysical and emotional in its essence. While often erroneously, and much to my chagrin, being dubbed as an act of "escapism", sensual power-play suffers from its rejection as a valid form of human expression: while being pushed toward "accepting" a behavioural garb that is closer to an act of prostitution than anything else, misguided social and cultural traditions ensure that an individual's choice of an alternate lifestyle is condemned by the chooser himself, eventuating 1. a scenario in which such practices remain "taboo" despite being secretly common, and 2. the simultaneous muting of the voice that sought to "break free".

Ramblings... and just that.

A particular bout of frustration brought on a realization of the necessity of some introspection, some incisive thinking that might allow me to control my disciplines more proactively.

I've come to the conclusion that maturity when delayed has different implications. Of course, this is only my opinion that has been shaped by my experiences. In the beginning, one's actions are reflections of one's maturity, and over the course of a decade or so, there is a process of self-integration that leads to those experiences from which we learnt anything to think for us - a "hysteresis" - and that very self-integration I've visualized as an intersection between two lines.

The volume of experiences beneath the intersection becomes, thus, an indication of its "age". When a person matures (emotionally, not physically) at the right time, at a younger age, at a later age:



Maturation, I've realized, is not necessarily a desirable or sought-after outcome of aging - its implications are not quite necessary at any point of time; it's a fact. Say, at a young age, if a child has been subjected to care that is indifferent and practised as a matter of duty more than anything else, the sense of logic within the child is exposed to a field of greater utility than are the other faculties, thereby bringing about a premature logical maturity which, in turn, clouds the other faculties. Of course, I'm only addressing this subject superficially, and even so find it complex and, consequently, intriguing.

Anyway, for a person whose maturity (of any pertinent faculty) has been delayed, the process of learning would have exceeded its confinement to the zone of proximal development (ref: pedagogic psychology, Vygotsky) and have influenced higher-level experiences, thereby corrupting the contents of the instructions. I realize how I could be terribly wrong, but as a result of having arrived at said observations through a gambit of personal experiences, only I can prove myself wrong.

In the event of being convinced that one's feelings, emotions and/or misgivings cannot be evaluated perfectly by anyone other than oneself, a success or a failure on one front doesn't present me with conclusive evidence of my success or failure: perhaps I did something wrong in succeeding so? Perhaps I did something unnecessarily right in the process of being successful? I believe it is because of such questions that I will be able to enjoy traveling, naught else.

Ramblings... and just that.

A particular bout of frustration brought on a realization of the necessity of some introspection, some incisive thinking that might allow me to control my disciplines more proactively.

I've come to the conclusion that maturity when delayed has different implications. Of course, this is only my opinion that has been shaped by my experiences. In the beginning, one's actions are reflections of one's maturity, and over the course of a decade or so, there is a process of self-integration that leads to those experiences from which we learnt anything to think for us - a "hysteresis" - and that very self-integration I've visualized as an intersection between two lines.

The volume of experiences beneath the intersection becomes, thus, an indication of its "age". When a person matures (emotionally, not physically) at the right time, at a younger age, at a later age:



Maturation, I've realized, is not necessarily a desirable or sought-after outcome of aging - its implications are not quite necessary at any point of time; it's a fact. Say, at a young age, if a child has been subjected to care that is indifferent and practised as a matter of duty more than anything else, the sense of logic within the child is exposed to a field of greater utility than are the other faculties, thereby bringing about a premature logical maturity which, in turn, clouds the other faculties. Of course, I'm only addressing this subject superficially, and even so find it complex and, consequently, intriguing.

Anyway, for a person whose maturity (of any pertinent faculty) has been delayed, the process of learning would have exceeded its confinement to the zone of proximal development (ref: pedagogic psychology, Vygotsky) and have influenced higher-level experiences, thereby corrupting the contents of the instructions. I realize how I could be terribly wrong, but as a result of having arrived at said observations through a gambit of personal experiences, only I can prove myself wrong.

In the event of being convinced that one's feelings, emotions and/or misgivings cannot be evaluated perfectly by anyone other than oneself, a success or a failure on one front doesn't present me with conclusive evidence of my success or failure: perhaps I did something wrong in succeeding so? Perhaps I did something unnecessarily right in the process of being successful? I believe it is because of such questions that I will be able to enjoy traveling, naught else.

A reevaluation of (two kinds of) relationships

First kind

Last night, I had a weird set of emotions flowing through me - weird only because they were new, not because I thought they were wrong. First, I shared with T???? the short passage I'd written with 83 Ms. Perhaps it was me hoping to strongly that she would remark (directly) upon how it compared to V's monologue from the movie 'V for Vendetta'. Now that I think about it, T???? may have only been the usual inappropriately-unpredictable bitch she usually is, but I don't care: her response drove me wild. I hope it stays that way, too.

I don't know if I look like a merry-go-round on legs to some people, but I've had it. Some people are not worth it irrespective of how much I might need them. Be it M?, P????? and A????? for what they know about me, be it T???? for whatever I may have needed her for, be it anyone: I've realized that I've been a top-order fool to let myself be cowed down by my need to please others. More than the realization, more than the decision to "turn over a new leaf", what's important is that I continue to understand why it's important to feel that way, to live that way.

Second kind

That, in turn, prompts me to think how honest I've been with my diary, how honest I will be. I who write this diary – is that "I" different from I who embrace the reality, the interpretations of the interactions with which fills up the diary? A day ago, since when the questions have been lounging in the back of my mind, I had this fleeting vision of three layers of existence that I may interact through with reality (at least as I perceive it): the Outermost layer, which is composed of all sorts of spontaneous activities that I must perform, do perform, with any or little reflection; the Middle layer, which is composed of elements such as honesty, reliability and punctuality, amongst others – those entities whose evaluation for the sake of the self involves a comparison against past precedents (or, those entities that exhibit hysteresis by way of being 'path-dependent'); the Innermost layer, which constitutes (and is not composed of) the basal emotions such as joy, sorrow, anger, jealousy, etc. – those emotions that are directly influenced by variations in the quantity and quality of the spontaneous activities.

Why then don't I place these emotions in the Middle layer? Because the constituents of the Middle layer influence my immediate responses to the spontaneous activities; it is the case of an extended cause-effect linkage. Just as in thermodynamics, where there are mass-dependent (extrinsic) and mass-independent (intrinsic) properties, in this structure of the psyche, there is the segregation of response-inducers (RIs) into low performance-dependency (LPD) responses and high performance-dependency (HPD) responses. The LPD responses are actuated by our "sense of the self" in the Middle layer and the HPD responses are actuated by our "sense of the self" in the Innermost layer.

The LPD responses that contribute greatly to the formation of my long-term goals are less easily influenced by day-to-day activities (likewise for HPD) and their subjugation in favour of the HPD responses has kept me happy, etc., on a day-to-day basis but has taken me nowhere I want to be in the longer run. Further (?!), I need to be reliable unto myself first, punctual unto myself first, honest unto myself first, and so forth.

And, to answer the question first asked, this blog (transcripted), I hope, remains both immanent to each layer and transcendental.

A reevaluation of (two kinds of) relationships

First kind

Last night, I had a weird set of emotions flowing through me - weird only because they were new, not because I thought they were wrong. First, I shared with T???? the short passage I'd written with 83 Ms. Perhaps it was me hoping to strongly that she would remark (directly) upon how it compared to V's monologue from the movie 'V for Vendetta'. Now that I think about it, T???? may have only been the usual inappropriately-unpredictable bitch she usually is, but I don't care: her response drove me wild. I hope it stays that way, too.

I don't know if I look like a merry-go-round on legs to some people, but I've had it. Some people are not worth it irrespective of how much I might need them. Be it M?, P????? and A????? for what they know about me, be it T???? for whatever I may have needed her for, be it anyone: I've realized that I've been a top-order fool to let myself be cowed down by my need to please others. More than the realization, more than the decision to "turn over a new leaf", what's important is that I continue to understand why it's important to feel that way, to live that way.

Second kind

That, in turn, prompts me to think how honest I've been with my diary, how honest I will be. I who write this diary – is that "I" different from I who embrace the reality, the interpretations of the interactions with which fills up the diary? A day ago, since when the questions have been lounging in the back of my mind, I had this fleeting vision of three layers of existence that I may interact through with reality (at least as I perceive it): the Outermost layer, which is composed of all sorts of spontaneous activities that I must perform, do perform, with any or little reflection; the Middle layer, which is composed of elements such as honesty, reliability and punctuality, amongst others – those entities whose evaluation for the sake of the self involves a comparison against past precedents (or, those entities that exhibit hysteresis by way of being 'path-dependent'); the Innermost layer, which constitutes (and is not composed of) the basal emotions such as joy, sorrow, anger, jealousy, etc. – those emotions that are directly influenced by variations in the quantity and quality of the spontaneous activities.

Why then don't I place these emotions in the Middle layer? Because the constituents of the Middle layer influence my immediate responses to the spontaneous activities; it is the case of an extended cause-effect linkage. Just as in thermodynamics, where there are mass-dependent (extrinsic) and mass-independent (intrinsic) properties, in this structure of the psyche, there is the segregation of response-inducers (RIs) into low performance-dependency (LPD) responses and high performance-dependency (HPD) responses. The LPD responses are actuated by our "sense of the self" in the Middle layer and the HPD responses are actuated by our "sense of the self" in the Innermost layer.

The LPD responses that contribute greatly to the formation of my long-term goals are less easily influenced by day-to-day activities (likewise for HPD) and their subjugation in favour of the HPD responses has kept me happy, etc., on a day-to-day basis but has taken me nowhere I want to be in the longer run. Further (?!), I need to be reliable unto myself first, punctual unto myself first, honest unto myself first, and so forth.

And, to answer the question first asked, this blog (transcripted), I hope, remains both immanent to each layer and transcendental.

The Persistence Of Vision

There was once a little man, a man of short stature and quick to temper, who lived somewhere in the suburbs of London, weathering cold weather or a hot summer without smile or frown. He had a quick and crisp moustache so fiendishly red that it frightened away the children who wandered into his wide front-yard, and they would run and they would run lest he spot them trampling his leaves. The neighbours did not know much about him nor did they have any complaint, and the little man kept his house and his nose quite clean. While he wished they would only leave him alone and not suffer the pains of company, he would decline tea and biscuits completely politely.

Once it so happened that, returning from the grocer an evening, an old man walking the other way tipped his hat at him, and the little man was overcome by a sudden but freakish curiosity, and so stepped up to enquire: "Good evening, sir!", quoth he, "The sun is too high in the sky although August is nigh gone. When is winter to come?" In reply said the old man: "Good evening, sir, to you! The chap on the radio said winter would be here, quite strong and bleak, before the week after is done!" The little man thanked and set off once more, thinking of the weather to himself when the old man called: "Have a day as wonderful as you are, sir!" The little man, now, he was swift to anger, and turning back, he called in reply: "Why, sir, why! What have I said to earn that curse? What have I spoken to deserve something as terse?" The old man knew not what dragon he had poked and stood so still as to surprise winter before it arrived. In receiving only silence, the little man finished: "As wonderful as I am, you say to me, but the town knows, oh, the world knows, I am no wonderful man but as devilish as they come to be! Lest you fear anything, sir, let us have it clear. Speak not to me again for a madness is here. My madness of your futile attempts at persistence is here."

[caption id="attachment_785" align="aligncenter" width="277" caption="All those who wander are not lost"][/caption]