Tuesday, January 5, 2010

The pure joy that is existence has been by implication & will be by expression to me unveiled, even in all that seemeth sorrow

Because I have to start somewhere, here.  Ideal not being actually actual, and all that.  Try to follow the one and you get turned around, confused, lost if you don't realize its you that should be leading... its complicated but if you sketch it out the logic is inescapable: propter non per accidens sed causa sequitur hoc Follow the other, if you can, maybe you'll last til you're a little ways out; eventually there you are, unable to keep up.  Either way there you are face to face (again) with your own death. (Long pause). With a little effort I can balance for a while on the impossibly thin edge of right now, Weight palpable of first impressions yet unborn in minds of whom it will not have been dreamt in my philosophy. We live as we dream, alone. (Unexpected, sudden: 404, File Not Found). Whatever I might think , think of what you think of, or think of what I know about you, dear reader – I can take our understanding for granted, I can work on it, build upon it; ethics aside, I can do all these and the link is swift, reliable.  Even with you, Whoever You Are (and by the way, welcome!  In the words of an old dear friend of mine, Leave some of the happiness you bring.).  Reliable that is, until I attempt to prove it exists.  Until I refer to it.  Or actually rely upon its details, reference and assume common understanding of specific particulars.  (Perhaps I misread the error code, now that I think of it...)  Perhaps you know what its like, what its been like wanting to be... sure... of... who or what or the existence of something, someone to save you all at once from meaninglessness and oblivion... (Shit. That's a 403. No authority; no access;  Additionally, a definite apprehension – that I would remain nearly entirely clueless, even should such capable philosophies somehow come to be appropriated – was generated in the hour that has elapsed since, suddenly and gloriously resolute, unheralded, alone, and with seeming confidence I clicked where no me had clicked before, and decided to begin, to begin Now, and Here).

Not with this Server.  Tempts hope. Optimism, like grains of rice strewn in front of you, if you felt compelled to count them....  Does that mean with a different server, or port... 

ha! and i thought it was going to say something austere and sweeping, like, it was six o'clock in the morning  of Tuesday the fifth of January twenty ten when i decided I had to move.  When I finally realized something, though I bet earlier than most, that not only weren't things getting any better here in what used to be my country – in what now is, apparently, my 'homeland' – not only does it seem to not be getting better, folks –

Sigh.  Now i don't want to be so pessimistic. It's too important.  This is where the ideal meets the real like rubber and road.  I don't even drive; heh; good metaphor maybe - maybe.  The here meets the now in this my Blog that I have been anticipating For So Long Etc.., where the as-yet-unformed is shaped by my forward momentum.  Thus we often can catch (if we are observant, and quick) a glimpse of the Truth.  Thus the noumenal world, the web of event, can be busted red-handed in correlation with, and seemingly caused by, the set of possibilities in which it had come to be packaged.  

Thus future event, or anyway, one's experience of future event, which is after all functionally indistinguishable (ok i mean in everyday consciousness, for those well-dabbled smart-asses out there) from, is dependent upon – I want to go ahead and say, is created, is magickally called into being, by – wait for it –

the language one uses to describe it.  Whatever language:  but it appears that meanings are not arbitrary.  So:  here we go:  and: I hope, right now, that I will have been saying: if anyone needs me, I'll be in some New, Sane, Civilized land.

There's the catch.  

Can't solve it all today.  I have a beloved to make love to, thank God.

1 comment:

  1. From the (pro) - antiquarian:
    Well, it seems as though the riddle hits the road...I suppose my palsied feet have wanted much to walk a starry road..//..what happens when seven billion look in the mirror all-at-once? What happens to the glass?
    If fear and loathing fills its countenance alternating with pride and peace...? Alternating with an an atomic oscillation, sextillion times a second? If we all did this? With the exception of those operating heavy machinery...leave a little happiness in the mirror, for whomever comes upon it next...perhaps it will be Nietszche (who this commenter still needs to read) Neat Che.

    And I saved this last third of the posting for a fresh day's initial reading: so it could be valued in a new light and hue.

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