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 Now online (2)belb dariusgriffin ...and 86 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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now i'm more or less off-script and reacting to thoughts i had last night. sinicuichi was also just a reaction i fired off with no pre-roll... sometimes i'll be arguing with myself: should i take the highway or the back roads? highway? back roads? highway? back roads? eventually my brain gets fed up with my waffling and more or less i hear a voice saying: back roads. i've learned to listen to this, because it typically only showed up when i was stuck; waffling in indecision. my brain has charged up like a capacitor and, yes, this one wins. i think. i'm still not sure. it's my best guess, nicely delivered to me at a time when i am too cognitively knotted up to come up with a best guess through my inner monologue. i called these "notions" and there are oodles written about 'em in my bullshit thread. i'll spare ye this time point being: your inner monologue is a product of every conversation you've ever had with yourself, going down to some moment of inception when your parents' voices were fed into your inner-monologger (and then sesame street next). when you think hard on something, you build up layers and layers of neural circuits that represent the constant picking at whatever it is. at some point there are enough cycles in the graph that a feedback loop fires off and you hear a voice that seems external to your inner monologue. i spent so much time exercising yesterday that my body-image essentially did the same thing. also related: t t t t j j j j |
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my paranoia is a slow and creeping thing. i don't wake up one morning and think the dog is named steve. no, i remember that the dog is named thaddeus just fine, thanks.... until... did he call the dog steve? nah. three weeks later... i swear, he called the dog steve again..... that night, lying in bed: did they change the dog's name? why would they do that? are they playing a joke on me? next day: i call the dog steve to see if anyone notices. no one seems to. i decide they're playing dumb three months later: i explode in anger, demanding they drop this charade, i've been onto you guys for months this is an absurd example. but i've lost count of the number of times i've gotten paranoid the neighbors were watching me or some shit. the anxiety causes me to look for evidence... and, of course, look hard enough, and you find evidence for anything. run that along for a few weeks and it's easy to imagine all sorts of nonsense. the answer is to get out of the house and say hello to the neighbors. dispel the paranoid nonsense with actual data from reality. in lieu of that, it's time to start my afternoon workout |
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they is a guy opposite who has a landrover in his driveway facing my living room window and he sits in the front seat revving the engine, i don wonder what he is up to, like is he having a sexual relationship with the car |
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i do the same thing. i'll meditate as the car warms up; perhaps this man does too. either way, he's probably letting the car warm up. i like to drive fast, you know? so i let it all get up to temperature before blasting off -- myself included. if i'm done meditating/settling my posture and impatient i'll rev the engine repeatedly, gently, to speed-up the warmup. do that is when i discovered ~1300RPM manages to generate a standing wave of resonance frequencies that tickle my balls just perfectly. trying to describe the waves of resonance that go through the car is impossible. i have distinct, three-dimensional senses of things settling hear and there depending on the RPM. closest analogy i have is that sort of distinct logarithmic scale of notes you get as you gradually raise the cutoff on a lowpass filter that's self-oscillating (resonance cranked). tldr: yes, it could be sexual. |
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i enjoy writing things in my head because it gives me a chance to see how much it goes to shit when i type it up later.... the way things get lost/forgotten is never dull. i wrote: i don't think thoughts can properly be stolen. the mind is a devilish maze of references to references to references and you can't just take a thought from one brain and put it into another. it wouldn't work. it doesn't even fit. it's like trying to plug a usb cable into a three-phase outlet or a banana into a car's gas tank or any sort of incredibly mismatched technical and/or fruit metaphor. when i wrote "it doesn't even fit" i was having a giggle to myself -- i was referencing an internet meme. i got it slightly wrong, though. misquoted: they . the brain is always things like that. i was thinking (in bed, chewing gum, last night) how impossible it was to transplant a thought from one mind to the other, and i came back to that. i wondered how many people even got the reference.... and there we have it, right there. you could fly every goddamn femtocopter mossad and the kremlin can muster and saturate my brain with them to the point that every word of my inner monologue is more or less clearly, carefully spoken into a steve-albini grade microphone that goes straight to whoever controls flap these things flap..... and, yes, a lot of it wouldn't make a lick of sense to anyone except me. russian intelligence agents are too serious to giggle over memes and thus would never even come to realize that "it doesn't even fit" was the tip of an iceberg. something i'd been joking about in my head for years. how all those jokes melt into each other and remix into new ones... yes, to steal my thoughts, you'd have to have been there for all my previous thoughts. i'm not worried about my mental privacy |
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also: if you took one of my thoughts and put it in mohamed, he'd only understand, like, 70% of it. the rest would be too technical |
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the brain is always remixing things like that. |
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the brain is always things like that. then the fingers mistype. then the message board glitches |
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did you ever have a note books on patches and stuff, ones i spent months and months messing around writing hundreds of pages on different synthesis types and patch types i made i really went for it, just checked it was 8 years ago i wrote the dates in it not really, no. that sort of book-keeping always felt like a distraction. the only time i'd write down patches was when i had zero change of remembering and i cared to remember it. i usually did not care to remember, because i'd do everything in a go (work for eight hours, leave everything on, take a nap, finish it). always, though, there are edge-cases: my circuit bent psr-6 will auto-off after a few minutes of inactivity. getting its state of mind back to the same point is like: 1) type "88" into the patch select 2) switch off data lines #2 and #7 3) switch to patch "42" 4) banana plug data line #1 into data line #3 5) switch to patch "69" i never got my head around much of anything going on with that like i did the prophet VS, so i couldn't go back to it and quickly call up what i did to make the patch. and it shut itself off after a few minutes.... so, i'd get a sheet of notebook paper and write it down. finish the track. crumple up the paper into a sphere of spent context and basketball it into the dustbin |
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