I grew up praying. Before meals. Before bed. The blessing of food, the recitation of sins, the asking of forgiveness and the wish list of needs. I stopped believing in the necessity of the necessity of divine forgiveness, and indeed the divine story as taught by Adventism in general, but even though I don't pray much anymore, I'm not sure I've given up entirely on the concept of praying.
I think of prayer the way I think of meditation at the moment. A potentially useful spiritual practice, the utility of which is possibly independent of a particular religious belief system. Meditation, to me, is practicing self-awareness and mindfulness as direct and specific practice in getting your thoughts and feelings under control. Is your mind always racing? Not sure what's going on with you right now? Spending some time sitting with yourself and practicing re-focusing your attention on sitting and breathing will probably help with that!
Prayer, has a similar utility to me, in that it focuses and channels hopes/hopes/dreams/fears/frustrations in a way that acknowledges their importance and potentially their immediate intractability and also lets you get on with your life after doing so. In practice it serves to vent some feelings but also focuses attention back to intent and needs in a way that may help to propel you forward in you life. Prayer can bring clarity and relief.
So does it matter who you pray too? Maybe. Maybe not! For some people the important part of prayer may be that someone out there hears you and cares about your problems. Maybe it's just important to believe someone out there hears you and cares about your problems? Maybe the prayer itself is cathartic, regardless of who's listening. Maybe that's why group therapy felt like such a religious experience at times.
I have a small statue to Bastet in my house for the cats. I burn incense and pray to Bastet for my remaining cat. And for my dearly departed tabby both before and after he was gone. Was Bastet listening? Did she guide my friend to the field of reeds? I don't know, but I felt better.
I have tried praying to Mercury, although I'm not sure Mercury heard me. I once prayed to Hypnos to help me get re-synced to the day/night cycle and had a semi-miraculous 48 hours where I suddenly WAS re-synced. But I didn't keep praying and old habits quickly re-asserted themselves. Maybe the gods are dead and prayer is just a good habit that focuses your attention on improving your life and sets the foundation for other habits? Maybe Mercury winged me safely to my destination. Maybe Hypnos gave me a taste of normalcy because I asked him to.
I am forced to acknowledge that I hope there is something kind out there that hears us when we pray, if only because I'm so desperate for a larger context that will wake up a society content to sleep walk off a cliff. This is an emotional bias I know myself to have. Partly just because the existence of an outside power that gives a shit is a comforting thought, however unlikely my rational mind might find it. So maybe I just pray in the hope that someday something answers. Because that would be interesting. My quiet desire to be abducted by benevolent aliens and relocated to a society where people aren't fucking insane probably comes from the same place.
Maybe whatever god I pray to is just a collection of ideas and principles that are important to me, and praying to and worshiping that unified concept of That Which is Good is how I center my values and define who I want to be in the world. Maybe prayer is good because it helps productively process emotional responses to life and we are the kind of creatures that need to regularly process our emotions in a healthy way. Maybe prayer is good in and of itself once it's liberated from the fundamentalist baggage of guilt and shame. Maybe that kind of prayer can liberate me too.
Thursday, May 30, 2019
Friday, April 19, 2019
poetry in motion
Upon taking out some trash
After years of mental deterioration
After a lifetime of training my mind to be anywhere but present
I threw my old xmas tree,
and a garbage bag
and my goddamn keys
into the dumpster.
Just present enough to render the jingle of the garbage falling as "odd"
My mind slammed back into my body
just as the high security garbage bin gate slammed behind me
and I thought
"Well shit"
Upon loitering near the front door
I encountered a tenant who let me in
with only a mildly awkward stranger danger moment
as it turns out we were briefly walking the same way
I'm sorry lady
I just wanted my spare keys
I threw my others in the goddamn dumpster
Good night, god bless, where are my spare keys
Upon retrieving my spare keys
After opening the garbage gate
which for some reason has three
THREE
strings of barbed wire over the top
I opened wide the dumpster lid
and peered within
"I see them!" I cried
to an audience of nobody
I hoisted myself up
low self-esteem about upper body strength aside
between the two dumpsters
and neatly levered myself to the top
and then adroitly over
it was poetry in motion
but stinky by scent
a descent into stench
in search of lost keys
I was touching it
oh god, I was touching all of it
"Aha!" I cried
betrayed by their own saucy jingle
and though they tried to slip,
slip
slip
further
and further
into the reverently collected refuse of my neighbors
I grabbed them
leaped nimbly to the top
and then over
and then down
poetry in motion
hell to smell
and it was then that I showered
for one million years
poetry in motion
wash this aroma
straight into the ocean
After years of mental deterioration
After a lifetime of training my mind to be anywhere but present
I threw my old xmas tree,
and a garbage bag
and my goddamn keys
into the dumpster.
Just present enough to render the jingle of the garbage falling as "odd"
My mind slammed back into my body
just as the high security garbage bin gate slammed behind me
and I thought
"Well shit"
Upon loitering near the front door
I encountered a tenant who let me in
with only a mildly awkward stranger danger moment
as it turns out we were briefly walking the same way
I'm sorry lady
I just wanted my spare keys
I threw my others in the goddamn dumpster
Good night, god bless, where are my spare keys
Upon retrieving my spare keys
After opening the garbage gate
which for some reason has three
THREE
strings of barbed wire over the top
I opened wide the dumpster lid
and peered within
"I see them!" I cried
to an audience of nobody
I hoisted myself up
low self-esteem about upper body strength aside
between the two dumpsters
and neatly levered myself to the top
and then adroitly over
it was poetry in motion
but stinky by scent
a descent into stench
in search of lost keys
I was touching it
oh god, I was touching all of it
"Aha!" I cried
betrayed by their own saucy jingle
and though they tried to slip,
slip
slip
further
and further
into the reverently collected refuse of my neighbors
I grabbed them
leaped nimbly to the top
and then over
and then down
poetry in motion
hell to smell
and it was then that I showered
for one million years
poetry in motion
wash this aroma
straight into the ocean
Saturday, April 13, 2019
Regrets, a partial list
I briefly dated a guy from Scruff who seemed very sweet. I broke it off because he was extremely allergic to cats and I couldn't see it working since I have 2, and he moved to Japan a couple months later anyway, but I really liked him and I regret breaking it off. The cat thing was probably an cover for insecurities anyway. C.W., it was truly my loss.
I've had an on again, off again thing with a handsome artist that seems like it might be stuck permanently on off again, and even though we were frequently talking past each other and ghosting each other constantly, I regret somehow not making it work. He was beautiful and an amazing painter and once again my insecurities probably got the better of me. Alas. I didn't really try and it is again my loss.
I have a story idea about once a day and I never write any of them. Not all fo them are gold, but I'm never going to be an actually decent writer until I work through being a pretty bad writer. last night's though was time travel envisioned as a fully 3-D space once you're there, where multiple versions of you can co-exist, where travel in these coordinates is travel through time, but not space, you'll still re-emerge in the same spot when you leave. Maybe in that 2-d space only 1-d travel is time travel and lateral movement is dimension hopping. Maybe you look sideways to wave at the next version of yourself, as you like to do, and see down the long line of alternate yous something coming for all of you.
Or maybe you just have an old fashioned diving suit that travels through time, with only a thin tube of air connecting you back to the present.
Anyway, regrets. I haven't made any progress at all on job problems in like a decade. I haven't even put a resume together yet. i think sooner or later the universe will force me to act in a panic on that front and I'll regret not having done it earlier. I pre-regret that.
I would like to be in better shape but depression still has the better of me. I regret not prioritizing my health. And like, my hygiene (gross).
I regret I could not do more for my cat as he was dying. I hope there is a cat afterlife and he is happy there. I have asked Bastet to watch over him, but who knows if she exists or what she chooses to do with her time. I like to think she is kind to cats at least.
I regret being a 43-year-old man who seems to have figured very little of adult life out. I worry that I am going to die this clueless and unhappy. I would regret that too.
I am hopeful to someday be a person that takes more assertive action and has fewer regrets. I have more or less wasted the last 20 years and friends, I experience some regret over that.
This has been a partial list of my overwhelming list of regrets.
I've had an on again, off again thing with a handsome artist that seems like it might be stuck permanently on off again, and even though we were frequently talking past each other and ghosting each other constantly, I regret somehow not making it work. He was beautiful and an amazing painter and once again my insecurities probably got the better of me. Alas. I didn't really try and it is again my loss.
I have a story idea about once a day and I never write any of them. Not all fo them are gold, but I'm never going to be an actually decent writer until I work through being a pretty bad writer. last night's though was time travel envisioned as a fully 3-D space once you're there, where multiple versions of you can co-exist, where travel in these coordinates is travel through time, but not space, you'll still re-emerge in the same spot when you leave. Maybe in that 2-d space only 1-d travel is time travel and lateral movement is dimension hopping. Maybe you look sideways to wave at the next version of yourself, as you like to do, and see down the long line of alternate yous something coming for all of you.
Or maybe you just have an old fashioned diving suit that travels through time, with only a thin tube of air connecting you back to the present.
Anyway, regrets. I haven't made any progress at all on job problems in like a decade. I haven't even put a resume together yet. i think sooner or later the universe will force me to act in a panic on that front and I'll regret not having done it earlier. I pre-regret that.
I would like to be in better shape but depression still has the better of me. I regret not prioritizing my health. And like, my hygiene (gross).
I regret I could not do more for my cat as he was dying. I hope there is a cat afterlife and he is happy there. I have asked Bastet to watch over him, but who knows if she exists or what she chooses to do with her time. I like to think she is kind to cats at least.
I regret being a 43-year-old man who seems to have figured very little of adult life out. I worry that I am going to die this clueless and unhappy. I would regret that too.
I am hopeful to someday be a person that takes more assertive action and has fewer regrets. I have more or less wasted the last 20 years and friends, I experience some regret over that.
This has been a partial list of my overwhelming list of regrets.
Friday, April 12, 2019
the Funky Chicken
I have been in the most ridiculous funk recently. Women are sensitive to "pent up dude feeling frustrated" so they've given me a wide berth, which does not feel good, but also I get it. I don't really like me when I get like this either. People tend to like happy, friendly and loose and I am not happy, friendly or loose right now. There may also be thousands of years of gender dynamics driving some of these responses as well, which also make sense to me. Avoid grumpy dudes, check.
I'm extremely frustrated with where my life is at while also keenly aware it is a result of my endless choices, or rather the hole where a series of choices should be. Further, I am even more keenly aware, a point so sharp it cuts me, that I haven't made significant problem on a few important life things for about a decade now. Frustration, with the world, myself, everything, is probably underselling it at this point.
I don't know what to tell me or you or anyone. I feel extremely trapped in my life right now in just about every way and I don't always have a good grasp on how much of that is circumstance and how much of that is a story so paper thin I could break free if I stared at it really hard.
Of course, I am not a hole where a series of choices should be, I am a series of choices I do not like. Choosing to do nothing is itself a choice, of course. Of course it is. As always, this is a problem of motivation. What is my motivation? Who do I want to be? I don't know. I genuinely have no clear conception of how to answer those questions. All I know is I don't like much of this society, I think it is proudly cruel and selfish and shallow for the most part, and I don't know where I belong, have found little to actually believe in post-Adventism and I have no idea where to start looking for those things, although I think I can rule out "inside my apartment" at this point.
I think I have never fully created the quiet moment I need post-coming out 10 years ago to sort some shit out. Nor will I be able to until my extremely noisy and needy cat finally passes on (I love her, but this is true). But I should probably try harder than I have to get there. This shit ain't getting better on its own.
I'm extremely frustrated with where my life is at while also keenly aware it is a result of my endless choices, or rather the hole where a series of choices should be. Further, I am even more keenly aware, a point so sharp it cuts me, that I haven't made significant problem on a few important life things for about a decade now. Frustration, with the world, myself, everything, is probably underselling it at this point.
I don't know what to tell me or you or anyone. I feel extremely trapped in my life right now in just about every way and I don't always have a good grasp on how much of that is circumstance and how much of that is a story so paper thin I could break free if I stared at it really hard.
Of course, I am not a hole where a series of choices should be, I am a series of choices I do not like. Choosing to do nothing is itself a choice, of course. Of course it is. As always, this is a problem of motivation. What is my motivation? Who do I want to be? I don't know. I genuinely have no clear conception of how to answer those questions. All I know is I don't like much of this society, I think it is proudly cruel and selfish and shallow for the most part, and I don't know where I belong, have found little to actually believe in post-Adventism and I have no idea where to start looking for those things, although I think I can rule out "inside my apartment" at this point.
I think I have never fully created the quiet moment I need post-coming out 10 years ago to sort some shit out. Nor will I be able to until my extremely noisy and needy cat finally passes on (I love her, but this is true). But I should probably try harder than I have to get there. This shit ain't getting better on its own.
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Into the Void
Some people hear all this quiet and try to fill it up with themselves. Clanging, shouting, stomping until the sound of something conscious echoes back from distant cliffs or gets swallowed by the the trees or the waves or the general void.
Futile. Folly. Human.
Hard to be quiet. Alone. With only intrusive thoughts to keep you company. Fears, disquiets, insecurities, all held at bay by chaos and noise and a busy kind of hubbub suddenly free of a downward pressure, bubbling to the surface until they threaten to boil over.
Panic! Panic. Shout, scream, stomp. Until you realize you have survived and the feelings that momentarily threatened to drown you have ebbed and the thoughts, unwanted and unloved, did not linger, having not made quite the impression they thought they would. Sometimes your unwanted thoughts leave out of pure embarrassment.
How silly of me. Terribly sorry. I'll show myself out.
The panic in those still moments though. That the thoughts and feelings you run from are too big too much too much. Followed by a distinct anti-climax. Oh was that all? Uncomfortable yes, but not The End. Feelings in the rearview mirror may be more manageable than they appear.
Maybe you lost your composure for a hot minute. Maybe you survived that too.
If a man cries alone in a forest, does he make a sound? Who cares. Feelings gotta feel. Scream, shout, stomp. This time not to drown the noise but to get it out. Let it out. Everything bound up in your nerves from behind your eyes to the tips of your fingers. Tensions stored carefully, lovingly until, absent outside pressure, released in a great wave. At last. At least.
Until all that is left is the quiet. And the last echoes of you fading away until all that is left is you. Yourself. No stories, just breathing. No worries, just starlight. No thoughts of particular importance. Just you. Only you. No further qualification necessary. End of report.
Futile. Folly. Human.
Hard to be quiet. Alone. With only intrusive thoughts to keep you company. Fears, disquiets, insecurities, all held at bay by chaos and noise and a busy kind of hubbub suddenly free of a downward pressure, bubbling to the surface until they threaten to boil over.
Panic! Panic. Shout, scream, stomp. Until you realize you have survived and the feelings that momentarily threatened to drown you have ebbed and the thoughts, unwanted and unloved, did not linger, having not made quite the impression they thought they would. Sometimes your unwanted thoughts leave out of pure embarrassment.
How silly of me. Terribly sorry. I'll show myself out.
The panic in those still moments though. That the thoughts and feelings you run from are too big too much too much. Followed by a distinct anti-climax. Oh was that all? Uncomfortable yes, but not The End. Feelings in the rearview mirror may be more manageable than they appear.
Maybe you lost your composure for a hot minute. Maybe you survived that too.
If a man cries alone in a forest, does he make a sound? Who cares. Feelings gotta feel. Scream, shout, stomp. This time not to drown the noise but to get it out. Let it out. Everything bound up in your nerves from behind your eyes to the tips of your fingers. Tensions stored carefully, lovingly until, absent outside pressure, released in a great wave. At last. At least.
Until all that is left is the quiet. And the last echoes of you fading away until all that is left is you. Yourself. No stories, just breathing. No worries, just starlight. No thoughts of particular importance. Just you. Only you. No further qualification necessary. End of report.
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
Russian Dolls
"And now I'm stuck with a body that is broken, in a world that is literally falling apart, and a mind that wants to kill me."
"Sweetheart, where is that gorgeous piece of you fighting to be part of this world?"
It is a golden age of sympathetic dramas about depression and I am here for it. The quotes above are from the penultimate episode of Russian Doll, where Alan and Nadia are having their quiet moments of truth before the finale upsets the apple cart again, and those two conversations happen at roughly the same time and they both really spoke to me. In one, Alan is finally admitting he's been feeling broken and had been pulling away for a long time, well before his girlfriend called it off. And in the other Ruth is talking to her ward Nadia, remembering how hard she fought to live and survive the mental illness of her mother and wondering where that fight is now.
They are both echoes of the same kind of depression and detachment and you really get the sense that the author(s) have been through the shit. Sure, on some level it's unsurprising that in a country where rates of suicide, drug use, and depression are steadily climbing, that we're suddenly flooded with excellent dramas with real and frank depictions of depression and the societal detachment that comes with it. It's also beautiful. People who have been through the shit and survived sending back lifelines to those who may be struggling.
Cynically, I'm tempted to assume that "depressed" is just another lucrative marketing demographic, and entertainment media have consequently risen to the task of monetizing our misery. But that cynicism would be more compelling if the writers of many of these shows weren't clearly speaking with love to the intended audience and writing story arcs clearly intended to specifically break through cynicism and nudge people forward.
Respect for the struggle. May you all find your way to breaking free.
"Sweetheart, where is that gorgeous piece of you fighting to be part of this world?"
It is a golden age of sympathetic dramas about depression and I am here for it. The quotes above are from the penultimate episode of Russian Doll, where Alan and Nadia are having their quiet moments of truth before the finale upsets the apple cart again, and those two conversations happen at roughly the same time and they both really spoke to me. In one, Alan is finally admitting he's been feeling broken and had been pulling away for a long time, well before his girlfriend called it off. And in the other Ruth is talking to her ward Nadia, remembering how hard she fought to live and survive the mental illness of her mother and wondering where that fight is now.
They are both echoes of the same kind of depression and detachment and you really get the sense that the author(s) have been through the shit. Sure, on some level it's unsurprising that in a country where rates of suicide, drug use, and depression are steadily climbing, that we're suddenly flooded with excellent dramas with real and frank depictions of depression and the societal detachment that comes with it. It's also beautiful. People who have been through the shit and survived sending back lifelines to those who may be struggling.
Cynically, I'm tempted to assume that "depressed" is just another lucrative marketing demographic, and entertainment media have consequently risen to the task of monetizing our misery. But that cynicism would be more compelling if the writers of many of these shows weren't clearly speaking with love to the intended audience and writing story arcs clearly intended to specifically break through cynicism and nudge people forward.
Respect for the struggle. May you all find your way to breaking free.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Upon Attempting to read Milton
Upon attempting to read Milton
And Paradise Lost
I found myself
unprepared.
As Satan,
arrogant, unrepentant
surveyed his followers,
Fallen and dispirited,
I struggled to retain concentration
on a story I am,
in fact,
quite interested in.
The poetry is uneven,
and I understand
maybe
half the references
and my phone lights up
and suddenly
I am
scrolling
scrolling
scrolling
Wait,
what was I doing?
Ah yes, a text,
fallen from the heavens.
Okay,
but before that?
Ah yes,
Lucifer surveys hell
and decides it might look good
with a few throw pillows
and a lack of heavenly oversight.
And there are so many footnotes.
Should I read the footnotes?
No.
Struggling to maintain
enough concentration
to comprehend
the general flow
of the poem
will probably tax me enough.
Shit,
this is good.
Angels swarm like Locusts.
Lucifer undaunted.
Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch.
Sinister, rebellious.
The cat is crying.
Goddamn it cat
I am reading John Milton.
And my concentration
is anemic enough
without your caterwauling.
ha,
caterwauling.
Wait,
that's just where it comes from.
Where was I?
Milton. Satan. Hell.
Okay, that's 5 pages.
Time for a break.
Why is it so much harder
to make
the time and space
to read and study
than it was 20 years ago?
I should be
at the height of my powers
Arrogant, rebellious
Instead
Atrophied, superfluous
Surveying hell
Alas.
And Paradise Lost
I found myself
unprepared.
As Satan,
arrogant, unrepentant
surveyed his followers,
Fallen and dispirited,
I struggled to retain concentration
on a story I am,
in fact,
quite interested in.
The poetry is uneven,
and I understand
maybe
half the references
and my phone lights up
and suddenly
I am
scrolling
scrolling
scrolling
Wait,
what was I doing?
Ah yes, a text,
fallen from the heavens.
Okay,
but before that?
Ah yes,
Lucifer surveys hell
and decides it might look good
with a few throw pillows
and a lack of heavenly oversight.
And there are so many footnotes.
Should I read the footnotes?
No.
Struggling to maintain
enough concentration
to comprehend
the general flow
of the poem
will probably tax me enough.
Shit,
this is good.
Angels swarm like Locusts.
Lucifer undaunted.
Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch.
Sinister, rebellious.
The cat is crying.
Goddamn it cat
I am reading John Milton.
And my concentration
is anemic enough
without your caterwauling.
ha,
caterwauling.
Wait,
that's just where it comes from.
Where was I?
Milton. Satan. Hell.
Okay, that's 5 pages.
Time for a break.
Why is it so much harder
to make
the time and space
to read and study
than it was 20 years ago?
I should be
at the height of my powers
Arrogant, rebellious
Instead
Atrophied, superfluous
Surveying hell
Alas.
Sunday, December 02, 2018
Random Thoughts
We first demonize people because it's wrong to harm a person. If they're not a person really, then the rules are different, aren't they? We're a fun species, aren't we? So much investment in the suffering of other, carefully-defined-as-lesser people. We think their suffering is both corrective and just because they are lesser. Convenient!
Still thinking about something I saw on twitter about addiction largely being about a life that feels too painful to be present for. That one hit right in the gizzard. That's me and games right there. To some much lesser degree alcohol and pot. I could give up alcohol and pot in a heartbeat for meaningful human connection. Games have a stronger hook.
Beyond that, have I had a painful life? Less painful than some, but more than I admit to I think. My relationships have been incredibly painful to me. I didn't even think about dating for years after each of my long-term relationships. Leaving my religion and coming out of the closet and wandering the earth* isolated and alone has been painful. It's probably less about "how much pain has your life had?" than "are you dealing with your pain?" though. I probably need to deal with my pain. So that sounds fun.
I am still waiting for a divine revelation about what my purpose in life is. I suspect I will keep waiting. It would be nice to find a cause or a community to get excited about again though.
The only prayer I pray right now is "My cat is dying** and I am lost. Help me." I am not sure who I am praying to.
*sitting my apartment.
**There's nothing really to do for her. She gets fluids and meds, but kidney failure is a long, slow decline. I spoil her as much as I can.
**There's nothing really to do for her. She gets fluids and meds, but kidney failure is a long, slow decline. I spoil her as much as I can.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Catching Up
I feel good about actually writing some crap, in terms of needing an outlet. Picking up piano again would probably help me as well. And I still want to learn to paint something, damn it.
The first thing I'm trying to do is Actually Write. Dump the first draft down, accept that it will be a hot mess. The second big task is cultivating an attention span that will let me return for revisionary passes.
I am still not really convinced I have any actual stories to tell. I have for my whole life dissociated and held myself apart from life, like engagement with life on this planet is just something I can politely say, "no, thank you." to. My primary method for this is dissociation, and I wonder if dissociation hasn't left me drooling and incoherent. How much has endlessly scrolling twitter feeds and video games damaged my ability to think. I worry.
But I don't hate my writing. Should I? I worry about that too. Maybe I am only writing for an audience of myself. Maybe that is okay.
Mostly I worry that I will not kick myself into motion before entropy and time say it's last call. I am not living in forever and my biggest life crime against the universe is a refusal to acknowledge the simple fact I have been allotted roughly the same amount of temporal tokens as anyone else and I spend one every second regardless of my delusions, grandiose or otherwise. And I am not spending them caring for others or developing my, in context, limited potential.
When I allow myself to indulge in a belief in the afterlife and reincarnation, I can only at this moment imagine they will have to send me back to like, not procrastinate next time. Which I could only agree is fair.
The funny thing about near death experiences is they seem to indicate the immortality of the soul and life after life, but they also seem to indicate an afterlife with it's own bureaucratic fuck-ups. Christianity posits an immortal god with a smoothy-oiled bureaucracy but with a low tolerance for personal fuck-ups. Given the choice, I find I choose kindly, but befuddled spirits trying to get the paperwork on the deceased right with mixed results.
Of course, it could all be nonsense and this is IT as far as consciousness goes. And I think most belief systems would agree you only get this one body with this one mind once and that is sacred. Best not to waste it, no?
The first thing I'm trying to do is Actually Write. Dump the first draft down, accept that it will be a hot mess. The second big task is cultivating an attention span that will let me return for revisionary passes.
I am still not really convinced I have any actual stories to tell. I have for my whole life dissociated and held myself apart from life, like engagement with life on this planet is just something I can politely say, "no, thank you." to. My primary method for this is dissociation, and I wonder if dissociation hasn't left me drooling and incoherent. How much has endlessly scrolling twitter feeds and video games damaged my ability to think. I worry.
But I don't hate my writing. Should I? I worry about that too. Maybe I am only writing for an audience of myself. Maybe that is okay.
Mostly I worry that I will not kick myself into motion before entropy and time say it's last call. I am not living in forever and my biggest life crime against the universe is a refusal to acknowledge the simple fact I have been allotted roughly the same amount of temporal tokens as anyone else and I spend one every second regardless of my delusions, grandiose or otherwise. And I am not spending them caring for others or developing my, in context, limited potential.
When I allow myself to indulge in a belief in the afterlife and reincarnation, I can only at this moment imagine they will have to send me back to like, not procrastinate next time. Which I could only agree is fair.
The funny thing about near death experiences is they seem to indicate the immortality of the soul and life after life, but they also seem to indicate an afterlife with it's own bureaucratic fuck-ups. Christianity posits an immortal god with a smoothy-oiled bureaucracy but with a low tolerance for personal fuck-ups. Given the choice, I find I choose kindly, but befuddled spirits trying to get the paperwork on the deceased right with mixed results.
Of course, it could all be nonsense and this is IT as far as consciousness goes. And I think most belief systems would agree you only get this one body with this one mind once and that is sacred. Best not to waste it, no?
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Culture!
Had the inspiration for some Culture fanfic today too. First draft of course. Kind of want to write a Star Trek version of the Culture? Culture ship exploring the edges of known space. You can see what I think of pan-humanity as imagined by Banks though. Living the life but ENTIRELY too comfortable leaving major decisions to the machines.
New Incarnate Fragment
Wrote this in the shower this morning. I go from thinking this story is something that I missed the window on to something I just need to write even if it's crap. there's some kind of story I want to tell in there.
There is a post-apocalyptic series that leads to a weird SF series, although I think it's fantasy at heart. I can't decide if I should just skip the post-apocalyptic story and skip to the gods-as-motherships orchestrating the end of the universe or if there are things I want to talk about in both settings.
Thor's ships is shaped like Mjolnir, although it is, for all intents and purposes, Thor incarnate, crewed by fanatical followers. Machine avatars twice as large as a standard human, for smaller-scale presence. Loki's shift-ship in a dubious alliance. Battles with Frost Giants in iceberg-esque ships. The Jormungandr writhing in space, attempting to eat Asgard. Thor's and Loki's final sacrifice. Odin's brutal revenge. The Rainbow Bridge drive.
The other pantheons in their sectors of the galaxy. Each fighting the serpent's forces in different forms. The Greek Fleet after the fall of Olympus. The Power of Z.E.U.S. The music of the Spheres.
The Aztec Fleet and the flagship Quetzacoatl, a rival in size and power to Jormungandr. The Hindu Fleet, led by V.I.S.H.N.U., the massive but nimble Ganesha, the plucky escort Rama.
I don't know, there's something in there. Probably need to do some more reading before it starts to gel though.
There is a post-apocalyptic series that leads to a weird SF series, although I think it's fantasy at heart. I can't decide if I should just skip the post-apocalyptic story and skip to the gods-as-motherships orchestrating the end of the universe or if there are things I want to talk about in both settings.
Thor's ships is shaped like Mjolnir, although it is, for all intents and purposes, Thor incarnate, crewed by fanatical followers. Machine avatars twice as large as a standard human, for smaller-scale presence. Loki's shift-ship in a dubious alliance. Battles with Frost Giants in iceberg-esque ships. The Jormungandr writhing in space, attempting to eat Asgard. Thor's and Loki's final sacrifice. Odin's brutal revenge. The Rainbow Bridge drive.
The other pantheons in their sectors of the galaxy. Each fighting the serpent's forces in different forms. The Greek Fleet after the fall of Olympus. The Power of Z.E.U.S. The music of the Spheres.
The Aztec Fleet and the flagship Quetzacoatl, a rival in size and power to Jormungandr. The Hindu Fleet, led by V.I.S.H.N.U., the massive but nimble Ganesha, the plucky escort Rama.
I don't know, there's something in there. Probably need to do some more reading before it starts to gel though.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Consider Phlebas
The Culture's first major recorded conflict, at least by Banks in Consider Phlebas, was with the Idirans. The Idirans believed the culture's reliance on machines threatened the primacy of biological life in the galaxy and additionally had religious/cultural reasons to expand their empire. When I first read it, I was very much pro-Idiran, because I think they had a point. The Culture had a point too, but again takes it's own rightness as a given.
I wish Banks had expanded on this concept throughout the series, but he never really returned to it. Once the largely atheist Culture wins the war, they never really return to it, the matter more or less being settled.
Still, I think this conflict between religion/atheism and AI and biological life was what interested me in the series in the first place, and it kind of bums me out he never got back to it. Both of those topics are very in my wheelhouse though, so maybe it's just me.
I wish Banks had expanded on this concept throughout the series, but he never really returned to it. Once the largely atheist Culture wins the war, they never really return to it, the matter more or less being settled.
Still, I think this conflict between religion/atheism and AI and biological life was what interested me in the series in the first place, and it kind of bums me out he never got back to it. Both of those topics are very in my wheelhouse though, so maybe it's just me.
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Welcome to the Culture
So I finished the Culture series and am left wanting more. Partly because Banks died too soon and I'll never get to see where he was ultimately going with it, if anywhere. Partly because I think they were never quite what I wanted them to be. I think I kept hoping for a moment of revelation that never really came, but that may have been me expecting more than any novel is likely to deliver.
The Culture is a Pan-Human civilization set in the far future that has endured for over 10,000 years and abandoned scarcity and a lot of the cultural hang-ups that came with it, a long, long time ago. At some point they created AI Minds and gave them ships with near god-like abilities to create habitats with surface areas exceeding that of most planets, which is where most citizens tend to live, in addition to the ships themselves, the biggest of which hold many millions of people. Outside of a few major conflicts, they tend to live long, care-free lives wanting for nothing and working only as it takes their interest. For all intents and purposes the ships run everything and make all the major political decisions, although any big decisions are usually put to a vote to the population at large. Votes basically happen as they need to. The ships themselves have crew, but it's more an indulgence to keep people occupied than an actual necessity, the ships themselves are entirely self-sustaining. Banks originally thought of the Culture as some future version of Earth humans after they'd left Earth behind and spread to the stars, but got so disenchanted by human society on this planet that he eventually dropped it entirely.
The Culture itself doesn't seem to have much internal political drama, but it does have a tremendous self-regard for itself and its freedom and own perceived sense of enlightenment so stories tend to focus on the friction between the culture and more aggressive/authoritarian alien societies. The Culture views itself as the galaxy's conscience, but values the autonomy of a species to rule themselves and have their own ideas of how things should be. Many of the stories center around their Special Circumstances organization, which is more or less their version of an intelligence agency, which will use more violent/devious tactics than the Culture would normally condone to deal with situations that seem abnormally dangerous and/or are likely to result in mega-death crimes (civilian deaths in the millions or billions).
The Culture is not the only civilization in the galaxy, just one of the most powerful and influential at the time. There are many multi-system empires and many that have come and gone before. One of the most interesting aspects of this universe is the idea that there are Elder races who are basically obscenely powerful, but keep to themselves, having long since gotten tired of the day-to-day politics of the wider galaxies. And some civilizations sublime entirely, leaving the material plane en masse to higher dimensions to explore different forms of existence, once they feel like they've seen all they're going to of this one.
By far my favorite part of the series are the ship Minds, and how they talk to each other. They all have semi-silly names like "Fate Amenable to Change" or "Experiencing a Significant Gravitas Shortfall" and end up being some of the most interesting characters in the series.
I am left wanting more, but with a few questions that I wish had been addressed more. Why would people be so comfortable leaving everything to the machines? Where is the challenge/reward in the average life of a citizen? I admire them for their openness and freedom, but they seem obscenely decadent to me. Even their special circumstances agents seem to do it more out of boredom and because even though Ships have Drones (themselves fully self-aware, if less powerful Minds) and Avatars (constructed semi-independent biological expressions of themselves), they seem to need organics to interface with other organics successfully. Their trust in the Minds seems too complacent, especially the trouble groups of them tend to get into over the course of the series.
One feature of Culture life is being "backed-up" where a ship Mind take a scan of your brain and then recreates you if you die. This is basically treated like a save file in the video game. Citizens seem to view this as a form of immortality, but of course they aren't. they die, and then are replaced by someone exactly like them taken from a snapshot a few days before. From the point of view of the Culture, this is ensures a constancy of culture, but it's still death for all practical purposes. There seems to be no belief in a soul that ensures a continuance of experience here. I wish he'd gotten more into the philosophical implications of that, especially in a universe where entire civilizations leave death behind entirely and sublime to higher dimensions. How does it change a civilization to no longer grieve for death, because anyone who dies prematurely can be re-created, and how messed up is it that it's all a mirage? They DO die and a clone replaces them for the sake of everyone else. How messed up is that? Doesn't that bother anyone?
In general I find the intersection of materialism and spirituality in this series a little unsatisfying. This is best exemplified in the concept of subliming, which is here pictured as the end result of ascending the ladder of increasingly technical superiority over the material world. But subliming seems more like a spiritual achievement, it's not portrayed as a technical accomplishment even in the context of the books, they just seem to reach some enlightened state out of nowhere or are deemed ready as a people by previously sublimed races who are willing to help them cross over. The dots between "technical accomplishment" and "spiritual enlightenment" are never really connected in a way that I found satisfying. Although I think Banks might have a blind spot here that western culture seems to have in general, which is this idea that the end result of technical accomplishment will be spiritual growth and peace. Like if we just chart enough neurons it will all suddenly make sense some day. Technological progress is not necessarily the same as the search for meaning and there's no reason to believe meaning and enlightenment is where slightly faster cell phones eventually leads us!
I mean, I'm okay if Banks ultimately had a different take on that topic, I just wish he had spent more time teasing apart some of these things. The Culture sometimes seems to be a commentary on modern liberal values, but never really seems to say that much other than it is self-evidently good. I think I just wish he had spent more time somewhere on digging into whether it WAS good and why or why not.
These are relatively small complaints. I loved the series overall. This series is much like the Discworld series to me at this point. I end up thinking a lot about the questions the stories provoke, but ultimately I'm just happy to spend time there.
The Culture is a Pan-Human civilization set in the far future that has endured for over 10,000 years and abandoned scarcity and a lot of the cultural hang-ups that came with it, a long, long time ago. At some point they created AI Minds and gave them ships with near god-like abilities to create habitats with surface areas exceeding that of most planets, which is where most citizens tend to live, in addition to the ships themselves, the biggest of which hold many millions of people. Outside of a few major conflicts, they tend to live long, care-free lives wanting for nothing and working only as it takes their interest. For all intents and purposes the ships run everything and make all the major political decisions, although any big decisions are usually put to a vote to the population at large. Votes basically happen as they need to. The ships themselves have crew, but it's more an indulgence to keep people occupied than an actual necessity, the ships themselves are entirely self-sustaining. Banks originally thought of the Culture as some future version of Earth humans after they'd left Earth behind and spread to the stars, but got so disenchanted by human society on this planet that he eventually dropped it entirely.
The Culture itself doesn't seem to have much internal political drama, but it does have a tremendous self-regard for itself and its freedom and own perceived sense of enlightenment so stories tend to focus on the friction between the culture and more aggressive/authoritarian alien societies. The Culture views itself as the galaxy's conscience, but values the autonomy of a species to rule themselves and have their own ideas of how things should be. Many of the stories center around their Special Circumstances organization, which is more or less their version of an intelligence agency, which will use more violent/devious tactics than the Culture would normally condone to deal with situations that seem abnormally dangerous and/or are likely to result in mega-death crimes (civilian deaths in the millions or billions).
The Culture is not the only civilization in the galaxy, just one of the most powerful and influential at the time. There are many multi-system empires and many that have come and gone before. One of the most interesting aspects of this universe is the idea that there are Elder races who are basically obscenely powerful, but keep to themselves, having long since gotten tired of the day-to-day politics of the wider galaxies. And some civilizations sublime entirely, leaving the material plane en masse to higher dimensions to explore different forms of existence, once they feel like they've seen all they're going to of this one.
By far my favorite part of the series are the ship Minds, and how they talk to each other. They all have semi-silly names like "Fate Amenable to Change" or "Experiencing a Significant Gravitas Shortfall" and end up being some of the most interesting characters in the series.
I am left wanting more, but with a few questions that I wish had been addressed more. Why would people be so comfortable leaving everything to the machines? Where is the challenge/reward in the average life of a citizen? I admire them for their openness and freedom, but they seem obscenely decadent to me. Even their special circumstances agents seem to do it more out of boredom and because even though Ships have Drones (themselves fully self-aware, if less powerful Minds) and Avatars (constructed semi-independent biological expressions of themselves), they seem to need organics to interface with other organics successfully. Their trust in the Minds seems too complacent, especially the trouble groups of them tend to get into over the course of the series.
One feature of Culture life is being "backed-up" where a ship Mind take a scan of your brain and then recreates you if you die. This is basically treated like a save file in the video game. Citizens seem to view this as a form of immortality, but of course they aren't. they die, and then are replaced by someone exactly like them taken from a snapshot a few days before. From the point of view of the Culture, this is ensures a constancy of culture, but it's still death for all practical purposes. There seems to be no belief in a soul that ensures a continuance of experience here. I wish he'd gotten more into the philosophical implications of that, especially in a universe where entire civilizations leave death behind entirely and sublime to higher dimensions. How does it change a civilization to no longer grieve for death, because anyone who dies prematurely can be re-created, and how messed up is it that it's all a mirage? They DO die and a clone replaces them for the sake of everyone else. How messed up is that? Doesn't that bother anyone?
In general I find the intersection of materialism and spirituality in this series a little unsatisfying. This is best exemplified in the concept of subliming, which is here pictured as the end result of ascending the ladder of increasingly technical superiority over the material world. But subliming seems more like a spiritual achievement, it's not portrayed as a technical accomplishment even in the context of the books, they just seem to reach some enlightened state out of nowhere or are deemed ready as a people by previously sublimed races who are willing to help them cross over. The dots between "technical accomplishment" and "spiritual enlightenment" are never really connected in a way that I found satisfying. Although I think Banks might have a blind spot here that western culture seems to have in general, which is this idea that the end result of technical accomplishment will be spiritual growth and peace. Like if we just chart enough neurons it will all suddenly make sense some day. Technological progress is not necessarily the same as the search for meaning and there's no reason to believe meaning and enlightenment is where slightly faster cell phones eventually leads us!
I mean, I'm okay if Banks ultimately had a different take on that topic, I just wish he had spent more time teasing apart some of these things. The Culture sometimes seems to be a commentary on modern liberal values, but never really seems to say that much other than it is self-evidently good. I think I just wish he had spent more time somewhere on digging into whether it WAS good and why or why not.
These are relatively small complaints. I loved the series overall. This series is much like the Discworld series to me at this point. I end up thinking a lot about the questions the stories provoke, but ultimately I'm just happy to spend time there.
Expanded
As an addition to my snarky post about Expanse Dialogue, I DO tend to like most of the women they write. Avasarala and Ana are probably the two most interesting characters to me. Naomi is interesting, but would be more so if she'd dump Holden. Although I'm still hoping to get through the 3rd book quickly and get past the TV show chronology. I'm really curious where it goes after that and the Earth/Mars/OPA conflict has been completely uninteresting to me from the get-go*. I'm here for the proto-molecule, spaceships, finding new planets through those portals and uncovering the mysteries of ancient alien civs.
*the conflict just seems manufactured, which it is plot-wise, obviously. there's just no inherent tension between those 3 that I find interesting. I don't really understand why Earth and Mars hate each other and I don't think the writers do either. I'm hoping they drop this aspect in the face of greater threats later. Although both of them walking all over the OPA makes sense to me.
*the conflict just seems manufactured, which it is plot-wise, obviously. there's just no inherent tension between those 3 that I find interesting. I don't really understand why Earth and Mars hate each other and I don't think the writers do either. I'm hoping they drop this aspect in the face of greater threats later. Although both of them walking all over the OPA makes sense to me.
Sunday, October 21, 2018
Dialogue from the expanse: a sample
I'm enjoying the expanse books, but good lord, Holden's internal dialogue is tedious. He seems boring on the outside on the show, and when you read the books you realize he is also incredibly dull on the inside!
************
"The thing is, I wouldn't normally go for someone like Naomi. She wasn't immediately physically attractive to me, which is confusing!" said Holden, while making coffee.
"Is that right Cap?" replies Amos, as he looks into the distance, contemplating murder. Amos is not thinking of murdering anyone in particular, he just likes murder.
In the corner, Sgt. Roberta Draper is smirking at Holden. She is cleaning her power armor again. In the kitchen for some reason.
"You see, I know everything about computers and ships, but my main purpose is teaching Holden to see women as complete human beings. Don't you think that's important?" Naomi is talking to Sgt. Draper, desperately trying to convince herself Holden is any more interesting than the toast she ate this morning. Actually, come to think of it, that toast was mixed grain with nuts. Naomi bites her lip.
"Yes, ma'am." Roberta says. She is still smirking at Holden and oiling the joints of her power armor. So many joints. So much oil.
"But I also like curvy Polynesian women, I used to stare at them when I was stationed there." says Holden earnestly. He is talking to no one in particular.
"That sure is somethin' Cap." says Amos, his fingers curled around the invisible throat of an imagined victim.
From the upper decks Alex shouts, "Hey y'aaaaaaaaaaallll. Is flying ships great, or what?"
"Take Sgt. Draper." says Holden to his coffee mug. "I don't know whether to come on to her or flee. Because she is sexually attractive to me, but also large enough to be intimidating. But I already have a totally great girlfriend I am completely committed to. What a conundrum!"
Amos does not reply. He is catatonic, lost in a reverie of murder.
Sgt. Roberta Draper's smirk increases in size until her body is eclipsed entirely. She is the cheshire cat of Mars. Before long they both fade from view entirely. The only sign she existed is some extremely well-oiled power armor.
From below decks, Avasarala yells, "Where's my fucking tea, you fucking incompetents!" She is drunk again and by "tea" she means "gin."
************
"The thing is, I wouldn't normally go for someone like Naomi. She wasn't immediately physically attractive to me, which is confusing!" said Holden, while making coffee.
"Is that right Cap?" replies Amos, as he looks into the distance, contemplating murder. Amos is not thinking of murdering anyone in particular, he just likes murder.
In the corner, Sgt. Roberta Draper is smirking at Holden. She is cleaning her power armor again. In the kitchen for some reason.
"You see, I know everything about computers and ships, but my main purpose is teaching Holden to see women as complete human beings. Don't you think that's important?" Naomi is talking to Sgt. Draper, desperately trying to convince herself Holden is any more interesting than the toast she ate this morning. Actually, come to think of it, that toast was mixed grain with nuts. Naomi bites her lip.
"Yes, ma'am." Roberta says. She is still smirking at Holden and oiling the joints of her power armor. So many joints. So much oil.
"But I also like curvy Polynesian women, I used to stare at them when I was stationed there." says Holden earnestly. He is talking to no one in particular.
"That sure is somethin' Cap." says Amos, his fingers curled around the invisible throat of an imagined victim.
From the upper decks Alex shouts, "Hey y'aaaaaaaaaaallll. Is flying ships great, or what?"
"Take Sgt. Draper." says Holden to his coffee mug. "I don't know whether to come on to her or flee. Because she is sexually attractive to me, but also large enough to be intimidating. But I already have a totally great girlfriend I am completely committed to. What a conundrum!"
Amos does not reply. He is catatonic, lost in a reverie of murder.
Sgt. Roberta Draper's smirk increases in size until her body is eclipsed entirely. She is the cheshire cat of Mars. Before long they both fade from view entirely. The only sign she existed is some extremely well-oiled power armor.
From below decks, Avasarala yells, "Where's my fucking tea, you fucking incompetents!" She is drunk again and by "tea" she means "gin."
Monday, September 17, 2018
Apocalypse Weekend
My interests tend to be thematic, consciously or unconsciously. So I read Inferno by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, and then Surface Detail by Ian M. Banks and then This is the End by Seth Rogen and Friends to cap it all off. I did not really intend to focus on hell, it just kind of happened that way.
Inferno has been on my to-read shelf forever, and only, as it turns out, because I forgot I read it twenty years ago at camp when I was buying used classic SF at the McCall, ID library sales like it was going out of style. Which it had.
I don't always read with too many metrics in mind, but these days there is usually one: is this book good enough to pack up in a box and move with me? Largely because I got tired of moving so many boxes of books, and while my books are precious to me, if I'm being honest not all of them will be read again or recommended to friends, so I don't need to throw out my back for them. Hoarding also runs in my family*, so I try to be careful.
Inferno, sadly, did not pass this metric until the last 2 pages, which gave me pause before I heaved it to the "not staying" box. For one, it's steeped with in jokes from the life of an SF writer as filtered through conventions, so it feels like it's written for a very select crowd of people who've gotten drunk with Niven and Pournelle, a group which does not count me in their number, as I was born the year it was written and I believe the family doctor contraindicated both alcohol and socializing with SF authors in my first year.
Otherwise, it's a more or less enjoyable re-telling of Dante's classic, with an odd digression of venom directed at Vonnegut, who I guess wasn't popular among SF nerds at the time. The main complaint was that he talked in baby talk and his SF conceits were BABY SF, not even college level. I think they were just mad he was classified as SF by some but also popular at parties. I say this with much love for SF and SF communities, but the pathologies of insecurity and in-group behavior are very real even there.
What swung me around on the last two pages was the realization of the main character that Hell was yet another chance to be saved, which is an idea I have liked for a long time, but had forgotten I had picked it up from Larry Niven as I read SF by myself on the shores of Payette Lake in McCall, Idaho. I think one of the reasons I ended up my childhood religion as offered was partly the idea that an all-powerful god was so bad at creating a compelling case to be good and then so punitive regarding failure, a failure that could have easily been avoided by a, uh, more attentive celestial guardian.
So I like the idea that Hell was just another place to "figure it out" because I like the idea that God really never gives up and that given infinite time and infinite patience he/she/it would try to keep getting people to change. Once they've shuffled off the mortal coil and are left with an immortal soul that can still learn and change, what's the hurry? I think constructing a hell is a bit much and potentially counter-productive, but I do like the idea that any redemptive god that exists would never truly give up, although there are disturbing aspects to that too, if you take it far enough. What if they don't want to change and prefer obliteration if they have the choice? Anyway, I liked it for prompting me to think even this much in the last 2 pages so it goes on the "maybe" pile.
Surface Detail is the second to last Culture book and I am sad to be almost done with the series. There was no question of keeping this one, I adore the culture books and this will go on the golden shelf devoted to Ian Banks with all the rest. I went in blind though, and was surprised to discover it was yet another book about hell.
The Culture books have slowly built up a sketched-out mythology of sublimed races and virtual afterlives, playing a little fast and loose with the idea that copied mind states are truly souls that experience a continuous existence between death and the virtual afterlife. The Culture is a radically left and vaguely liberal/libertarian society in the galactic culture at large, and the other races tend to resent the holier-than-thou attitude and relentless do-gooding, especially when the Culture has blood on its hands too. So the ongoing existence of virtual hells, where the deceased, or at least perfect copies of their minds, are quite intentionally tortured forever by computer simulations, presents a source of considerable friction between the culture and like-minded do gooders and races still deeply invested in punishing the "wicked" in the afterlife, even if they have to do it themselves. They agree to resolve the dispute in a virtual war over hell, which mostly concerns the stored minds of the dead, but it all too quickly spills over into the Real as one side begans to fear it is losing.
The story is fun, the characters delightful (especially my perpetual favorites the ships). But it was the stuff about the hells that kept me thinking along the same train of thought as the previous book. Why do that? Why given the chance to create heaven, create hell instead? Leading directly to the obviously conclusion of: why do we insist on creating hell on earth? The greater our technological powers grow the fewer excuses we have, so why? I honestly don't think we have a good answer anymore.
This is the End I have been meaning to watch for years and finally got around to it. As a child of a dark and depressing apocalyptic religion it was right up my alley. It is extremely self-indulgent so I hope you really find Seth Rogen and James Franco charming because it's just them and their friends farting around. That said, it is also pretty funny. It's a pretty light movie despite the darkness of the theme, but there's still a "are we good people?" aspect that necessarily comes up in any sort of christian apocalypse. They eventually figure out that self-sacrifice is the way to a guaranteed blue beam to paradise, which they enact with varying degrees of success. I don't know, I enjoyed it almost in spite of myself.
The part that interested me was how they were all people who had vaguely paid attention to religious upbringing trying to figure out how to deal with all of that turning out to be real with half-remembered lessons from the Exorcist and hazy memories of church. I mean, in that scenario they're basically boned, at least in any Final Judgement worth it's name, but it's kind of fascinating to watch pampered hollywood dudes bring up the idea, even in jest, to even wonder "are we good people? Should we try? Why or why not? Please leave your answer in the form of a 2-hour movie".
I have just recalled, the universe being a heavy-handed pedant, that I watched the second season of "the Good Place" just before reading Inferno. Which is also all about where we go when we die and why. There is so much to say abut the Good Place, but I don't know how to do it without spoiling it. So I'll just mention the part that struck me was the title of one of Chidi's lectures entitled, "what do we owe each other?" as a basis for a multi-part discussion on ethics. "What do we owe each other?" is a very good question.
So that was my weekend on hell. Now all that's left is to figure out: Am I a good person? What does that mean? How would I know? Why would I try that?
I think I am just being reminded that I should crack a book or two about ethics in the near future. Heavy. Handed. Pedant.
*My grandmother's sister, when she died, had a real-estate empire, but also houses and properties just full of hoarded rubbish like stacks of old newspapers, tended by a small pride of housecats. Her kids thought it would take years to sort and sell it all, and as far as I know it is still ongoing. So yeah, I try to be careful with my "I must have and keep that" impulses which are non-trivial compulsions in my life.
Inferno has been on my to-read shelf forever, and only, as it turns out, because I forgot I read it twenty years ago at camp when I was buying used classic SF at the McCall, ID library sales like it was going out of style. Which it had.
I don't always read with too many metrics in mind, but these days there is usually one: is this book good enough to pack up in a box and move with me? Largely because I got tired of moving so many boxes of books, and while my books are precious to me, if I'm being honest not all of them will be read again or recommended to friends, so I don't need to throw out my back for them. Hoarding also runs in my family*, so I try to be careful.
Inferno, sadly, did not pass this metric until the last 2 pages, which gave me pause before I heaved it to the "not staying" box. For one, it's steeped with in jokes from the life of an SF writer as filtered through conventions, so it feels like it's written for a very select crowd of people who've gotten drunk with Niven and Pournelle, a group which does not count me in their number, as I was born the year it was written and I believe the family doctor contraindicated both alcohol and socializing with SF authors in my first year.
Otherwise, it's a more or less enjoyable re-telling of Dante's classic, with an odd digression of venom directed at Vonnegut, who I guess wasn't popular among SF nerds at the time. The main complaint was that he talked in baby talk and his SF conceits were BABY SF, not even college level. I think they were just mad he was classified as SF by some but also popular at parties. I say this with much love for SF and SF communities, but the pathologies of insecurity and in-group behavior are very real even there.
What swung me around on the last two pages was the realization of the main character that Hell was yet another chance to be saved, which is an idea I have liked for a long time, but had forgotten I had picked it up from Larry Niven as I read SF by myself on the shores of Payette Lake in McCall, Idaho. I think one of the reasons I ended up my childhood religion as offered was partly the idea that an all-powerful god was so bad at creating a compelling case to be good and then so punitive regarding failure, a failure that could have easily been avoided by a, uh, more attentive celestial guardian.
So I like the idea that Hell was just another place to "figure it out" because I like the idea that God really never gives up and that given infinite time and infinite patience he/she/it would try to keep getting people to change. Once they've shuffled off the mortal coil and are left with an immortal soul that can still learn and change, what's the hurry? I think constructing a hell is a bit much and potentially counter-productive, but I do like the idea that any redemptive god that exists would never truly give up, although there are disturbing aspects to that too, if you take it far enough. What if they don't want to change and prefer obliteration if they have the choice? Anyway, I liked it for prompting me to think even this much in the last 2 pages so it goes on the "maybe" pile.
Surface Detail is the second to last Culture book and I am sad to be almost done with the series. There was no question of keeping this one, I adore the culture books and this will go on the golden shelf devoted to Ian Banks with all the rest. I went in blind though, and was surprised to discover it was yet another book about hell.
The Culture books have slowly built up a sketched-out mythology of sublimed races and virtual afterlives, playing a little fast and loose with the idea that copied mind states are truly souls that experience a continuous existence between death and the virtual afterlife. The Culture is a radically left and vaguely liberal/libertarian society in the galactic culture at large, and the other races tend to resent the holier-than-thou attitude and relentless do-gooding, especially when the Culture has blood on its hands too. So the ongoing existence of virtual hells, where the deceased, or at least perfect copies of their minds, are quite intentionally tortured forever by computer simulations, presents a source of considerable friction between the culture and like-minded do gooders and races still deeply invested in punishing the "wicked" in the afterlife, even if they have to do it themselves. They agree to resolve the dispute in a virtual war over hell, which mostly concerns the stored minds of the dead, but it all too quickly spills over into the Real as one side begans to fear it is losing.
The story is fun, the characters delightful (especially my perpetual favorites the ships). But it was the stuff about the hells that kept me thinking along the same train of thought as the previous book. Why do that? Why given the chance to create heaven, create hell instead? Leading directly to the obviously conclusion of: why do we insist on creating hell on earth? The greater our technological powers grow the fewer excuses we have, so why? I honestly don't think we have a good answer anymore.
This is the End I have been meaning to watch for years and finally got around to it. As a child of a dark and depressing apocalyptic religion it was right up my alley. It is extremely self-indulgent so I hope you really find Seth Rogen and James Franco charming because it's just them and their friends farting around. That said, it is also pretty funny. It's a pretty light movie despite the darkness of the theme, but there's still a "are we good people?" aspect that necessarily comes up in any sort of christian apocalypse. They eventually figure out that self-sacrifice is the way to a guaranteed blue beam to paradise, which they enact with varying degrees of success. I don't know, I enjoyed it almost in spite of myself.
The part that interested me was how they were all people who had vaguely paid attention to religious upbringing trying to figure out how to deal with all of that turning out to be real with half-remembered lessons from the Exorcist and hazy memories of church. I mean, in that scenario they're basically boned, at least in any Final Judgement worth it's name, but it's kind of fascinating to watch pampered hollywood dudes bring up the idea, even in jest, to even wonder "are we good people? Should we try? Why or why not? Please leave your answer in the form of a 2-hour movie".
I have just recalled, the universe being a heavy-handed pedant, that I watched the second season of "the Good Place" just before reading Inferno. Which is also all about where we go when we die and why. There is so much to say abut the Good Place, but I don't know how to do it without spoiling it. So I'll just mention the part that struck me was the title of one of Chidi's lectures entitled, "what do we owe each other?" as a basis for a multi-part discussion on ethics. "What do we owe each other?" is a very good question.
So that was my weekend on hell. Now all that's left is to figure out: Am I a good person? What does that mean? How would I know? Why would I try that?
I think I am just being reminded that I should crack a book or two about ethics in the near future. Heavy. Handed. Pedant.
*My grandmother's sister, when she died, had a real-estate empire, but also houses and properties just full of hoarded rubbish like stacks of old newspapers, tended by a small pride of housecats. Her kids thought it would take years to sort and sell it all, and as far as I know it is still ongoing. So yeah, I try to be careful with my "I must have and keep that" impulses which are non-trivial compulsions in my life.
Thursday, September 06, 2018
And so
One of the joys of bisexual life is watching your last guy crush and your girl crush get together, leaving you to ponder the folly of the universe and yourself in particular. Because obviously neither of them thought about you too much and you've been kind of a grumpy asshole anyway and who were you kidding?
I go through cycles where I get fixated on someone that, in retrospect was never going to work out, which plays out the same way every time. So now I have some big dumb feelings that need to run their big dumb course. Of course. Again.
It feels like the universe is so bored with teaching me with this lesson that it really half-assed it this time. My nose rubbed in it as if to say, "No! Bad dog! Jesus Fucking Christ, learn the lesson!"
I'm bored with it too, tbh. I know better. When I'm taking care of myself I'm less of a freakshow and tend to click with people better. And I know the click is what I'm going for. Meeting someone and just feeling the connection at some point. You get me, I get you and we will be spending some time together. Or, you smell like home to me and I smell like home to you and we will be spending a lot of time together. Probably naked. Preferably both, but either works.
God, I really let things go this time. Not my finest hour. I complain, but this is the life I've been building for myself. So ... time for some creative destruction I guess.
On the bright side I've recently realized I've been getting sub-par sleep for MONTHS* and have a fix in place starting this week, so I can hopefully look forward to a more awake, less moody context to operate in. I was hoping to start last night but forgot my cat was debuting her new play "At Night we Howl" with repeat performances on the hour. Alas.
*The thing about sleep apnea is it kind of sneaks up on you. One day you just realize you're always exhausted and have been for a while.
I go through cycles where I get fixated on someone that, in retrospect was never going to work out, which plays out the same way every time. So now I have some big dumb feelings that need to run their big dumb course. Of course. Again.
It feels like the universe is so bored with teaching me with this lesson that it really half-assed it this time. My nose rubbed in it as if to say, "No! Bad dog! Jesus Fucking Christ, learn the lesson!"
I'm bored with it too, tbh. I know better. When I'm taking care of myself I'm less of a freakshow and tend to click with people better. And I know the click is what I'm going for. Meeting someone and just feeling the connection at some point. You get me, I get you and we will be spending some time together. Or, you smell like home to me and I smell like home to you and we will be spending a lot of time together. Probably naked. Preferably both, but either works.
God, I really let things go this time. Not my finest hour. I complain, but this is the life I've been building for myself. So ... time for some creative destruction I guess.
On the bright side I've recently realized I've been getting sub-par sleep for MONTHS* and have a fix in place starting this week, so I can hopefully look forward to a more awake, less moody context to operate in. I was hoping to start last night but forgot my cat was debuting her new play "At Night we Howl" with repeat performances on the hour. Alas.
*The thing about sleep apnea is it kind of sneaks up on you. One day you just realize you're always exhausted and have been for a while.
We're on the Road to Nowhere
I just finished Matter by Ian Banks and enjoyed it tremendously. I was browsing some reviews though, and someone said something along the lines of "why does this novel exist? Anything that needs to be said about the Culture has already been said." I was immediately reminded that while I love books, I do not always love the way the culture around books talks about books.
I think there is this idea, which I consider ill-advised at best, pretentious and snobby at worst, that thinks ideas in SF have to be new and fresh. New and fresh ideas are a grand thing and they certainly drive important things to the continuation of publishing houses like sales, but I'm not entirely certain every story has to contain a vital uniqueness to be worthwhile. There is this sense that the ideas in SF. They are going Somewhere and we can't muck about with things we have already discussed when we have to Get There.
Is this true? Are we Getting Somewhere in SF? Are we progressing to an Important Revelation before we die? Is it urgent we get there, mortality still an undeniable reality for biological organisms on this planet? Is "I like this world and like to linger here a while" not sufficient? It is for me, but maybe my tastes are simple. At least, it works for me at the moment. In general I think it's wiser in reviewing books (as Austin Kleon once advised) just to say "this wasn't for me." if you didn't like it. This Didn't Move the Genre Forward in Ways I Think are Important is a fine to argue I suppose, but it rests on more precarious pedestal and obligates more argumentation in support. You basically need to define the start and end points in order to argue for the concept of "forward" for one thing. Where do you think all this is going? Why do you think it is important?
This is all small beans of course. Just part of the greater We Are Getting Somewhere mindset that our civilization is steadily marching towards in a hundred different directions. Progress! Well, iteration, the concept we most like to confuse with progress. Progress of course is a term we like to leave as nebulous as possible so it can reasonably be applied as a descriptor to "the Next Thing I Want to Do."
Are cell phones progressing? Does each new iteration of the iphone get us somewhere? Will the Ultimate iPhones eventually save us all? Is new always better. Is 2.0 generally a categorical improvement of 1.0? Technically it's just the thing that came later, isn't it?
Medical technology is advancing, but what does that mean? We are surely more adept at saving and extending life that we used to be, which is great. But for everyone? Are we better at delivering medical care to more people? If we save their life but leave them bankrupt have we not just destroyed their life in another way? Is it possible that is the more important measure of progress in the medical field?
The sciences in general seem more amenable to a straightforward definition of progress in the steady accumulation of knowledge. Bringing this back around to literature, how would you define progress in literature? How does SF progress? How does Fantasy progress? How does Romance progress? How would you possibly define progress here anyway? I mean theoretically you might say it helps increase our knowledge of the human condition by relating aspects of the same. So maybe it helps us be better people, although, of course, not necessarily!
So how are we progressing as People? What's the point of iterating concepts or technology towards some nebulous goal if we are still petty jerks about everything? What's the point of anything if we aren't better people by the end of it? And how would we define that? Do we all need to agree on what that means or just have a defensible definition?
What are we building here? What important goal are we working towards before we die? In what ways would trying to answer those questions be counterproductive? People talk about it like they know, but I don't think they do. We're too busy talking about what's next instead of what's good.
I think there is this idea, which I consider ill-advised at best, pretentious and snobby at worst, that thinks ideas in SF have to be new and fresh. New and fresh ideas are a grand thing and they certainly drive important things to the continuation of publishing houses like sales, but I'm not entirely certain every story has to contain a vital uniqueness to be worthwhile. There is this sense that the ideas in SF. They are going Somewhere and we can't muck about with things we have already discussed when we have to Get There.
Is this true? Are we Getting Somewhere in SF? Are we progressing to an Important Revelation before we die? Is it urgent we get there, mortality still an undeniable reality for biological organisms on this planet? Is "I like this world and like to linger here a while" not sufficient? It is for me, but maybe my tastes are simple. At least, it works for me at the moment. In general I think it's wiser in reviewing books (as Austin Kleon once advised) just to say "this wasn't for me." if you didn't like it. This Didn't Move the Genre Forward in Ways I Think are Important is a fine to argue I suppose, but it rests on more precarious pedestal and obligates more argumentation in support. You basically need to define the start and end points in order to argue for the concept of "forward" for one thing. Where do you think all this is going? Why do you think it is important?
This is all small beans of course. Just part of the greater We Are Getting Somewhere mindset that our civilization is steadily marching towards in a hundred different directions. Progress! Well, iteration, the concept we most like to confuse with progress. Progress of course is a term we like to leave as nebulous as possible so it can reasonably be applied as a descriptor to "the Next Thing I Want to Do."
Are cell phones progressing? Does each new iteration of the iphone get us somewhere? Will the Ultimate iPhones eventually save us all? Is new always better. Is 2.0 generally a categorical improvement of 1.0? Technically it's just the thing that came later, isn't it?
Medical technology is advancing, but what does that mean? We are surely more adept at saving and extending life that we used to be, which is great. But for everyone? Are we better at delivering medical care to more people? If we save their life but leave them bankrupt have we not just destroyed their life in another way? Is it possible that is the more important measure of progress in the medical field?
The sciences in general seem more amenable to a straightforward definition of progress in the steady accumulation of knowledge. Bringing this back around to literature, how would you define progress in literature? How does SF progress? How does Fantasy progress? How does Romance progress? How would you possibly define progress here anyway? I mean theoretically you might say it helps increase our knowledge of the human condition by relating aspects of the same. So maybe it helps us be better people, although, of course, not necessarily!
So how are we progressing as People? What's the point of iterating concepts or technology towards some nebulous goal if we are still petty jerks about everything? What's the point of anything if we aren't better people by the end of it? And how would we define that? Do we all need to agree on what that means or just have a defensible definition?
What are we building here? What important goal are we working towards before we die? In what ways would trying to answer those questions be counterproductive? People talk about it like they know, but I don't think they do. We're too busy talking about what's next instead of what's good.
Friday, August 24, 2018
How to be Alone and Miserable in Portland, OR
There may come in a time in your big city life where you might say to yourself, "this city is great, but what can I do about all these incredibly inconvenient people?" Do not fear. While there is no ethical justification for wielding your impressive powers of magnetic manipulation to create a fearsome barrier of robots, missiles and mutants between you and the outside world, you too can alienate yourself from human society by diligently following these simple tips.
It all starts with the attitude, specifically a bad one. And a bad attitude starts with personal unhappiness, insecurity and ridiculously poor self-esteem. You don't like anyone and you don't like yourself. If you're having trouble with the former, start with the latter. The good news is, once you get the cycle churning, isolation and alienation will serve as an endless source of insecurity and alienation, feeding your bad attitude. That's right, we've discovered a perpetual emotion device! Of course, as moody introverts we are not inclined to share it.
Don't go out. There are many exciting and soul-destroying ways to stay in. It is important not to improve yourself when you stay in. That may give you potentially interesting things to talk about or, god forbid, a sizable boost of self-esteem that may undermine this whole project. Binge Netflix. Play video games, the more addictive the better. Many modern games are more or less designed along the same lines as video slots as it is very well known that random rewards at the right frequency are very addictive. The more you sit at home mindlessly pulling that lever the less you'll have to talk about and the unhappier you will be. Stay at home. Sit on your ass. Pull the lever. Wonder why you have no friends and never meet people and have nothing to talk about when you do. Let the answering sorrow that attends those questions give you the strength to pull that lever. World of Warcraft is a wonderful game to play when you hate yourself. When in doubt, dissociate, dissociate, dissociate. Dissociation is a wonderful time machine that you exit exactly as unhappily as you entered.
Don't go to parties. Or if you do leave early, because you don't belong there. You don't fit in with those people. You made a complete ass of yourself. They're all just self-interested jerks anyway. Just carelessly happy like a bunch of IDIOTS. Hate them, hate yourself. Go home. Of course, you don't hate them, this is all projection. Just another stupid thing you do to sabotage yourself. Stupid! Why do they invite you to these things anyway? (Don't worry, they will stop).
Never reach out. Never give any sign that you are happy they have reached out. They probably didn't mean it. They probably wouldn't like you anyway. They're probably a bunch of jerks who don't understand what you understand. It probably wouldn't work out. When they start avoiding you in public because they, for some reason, think you don't like them, it will just be another reason to be mad at yourself. Stupid! But also: awesome.
Convince yourself that you are just taking the space you need to get your head together, but resolutely refuse to create a quiet space to get your head together. Procrastination will serve you well here. How can you take time for yourself when you urgently need to clean up a mess you should have dealt with weeks ago? Don't worry, you will get your head together after this crisis. Or maybe after the three you have stacked up right behind it.
Nurture that sense of not belonging anywhere. Ignore any rational thought process that insists that can't possibly be true. Do not look up community events, meet-up groups, churches, sports competitions or community drinking establishments. Loudly lament that you can't find your people anywhere and have no idea where to look. You must be from Mars. They must not be anywhere. Poor you. Poor sad, lonely you.
Don't know yourself. It turns out to be incredibly easy to not find people who share you values when you have no earthly idea what your values actually are. Who are your people? How would you know? You don't know! Good work.
Form an unhealthy relationship with your phone. Pick it up for no reason. Scroll mindlessly. Suddenly wake up and wonder why you phone is in your hand and wonder what you are doing. Oh right, you wanted to check the weather. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Wait, what were you doing? Oh right, the weather. Oh wait. Your brain is mush. You won't be able to get through a sentence in public without habitually picking up your phone to scroll a feed of some sort. This phone is your LIFE, but you couldn't say why. Keep it up!
Blame it on your introversion. Or on extroverts. It is the same thing. Did you zone out while your last friend was sharing a secret heartache with you? I'm sorry, you are introvert and they will have to understand. Were you a fantastic jerk at that party? Such is the burden of introversion. Did you scowl at that woman who had the stunning audacity to be carelessly happy? Sorry babe, total introvert here. Remember, you are never responsible for your behavior so long as you have your introversion to hide behind. Introversion: sword and shield. Wield it well.
If you follow these simple tips, you too can generate the veritable fountain of angst that stems from longing for human contact but rendering yourself unable to generate or sustain it. Good luck you sorry sad sacks. I'd say I'm rooting for you, but I hate you all.
In the meantime I'll be over here wondering "when, oh when, will I find my place in the world?" Just about never if I play my cards right! I'm not only president, I'm also a member.
It all starts with the attitude, specifically a bad one. And a bad attitude starts with personal unhappiness, insecurity and ridiculously poor self-esteem. You don't like anyone and you don't like yourself. If you're having trouble with the former, start with the latter. The good news is, once you get the cycle churning, isolation and alienation will serve as an endless source of insecurity and alienation, feeding your bad attitude. That's right, we've discovered a perpetual emotion device! Of course, as moody introverts we are not inclined to share it.
Don't go out. There are many exciting and soul-destroying ways to stay in. It is important not to improve yourself when you stay in. That may give you potentially interesting things to talk about or, god forbid, a sizable boost of self-esteem that may undermine this whole project. Binge Netflix. Play video games, the more addictive the better. Many modern games are more or less designed along the same lines as video slots as it is very well known that random rewards at the right frequency are very addictive. The more you sit at home mindlessly pulling that lever the less you'll have to talk about and the unhappier you will be. Stay at home. Sit on your ass. Pull the lever. Wonder why you have no friends and never meet people and have nothing to talk about when you do. Let the answering sorrow that attends those questions give you the strength to pull that lever. World of Warcraft is a wonderful game to play when you hate yourself. When in doubt, dissociate, dissociate, dissociate. Dissociation is a wonderful time machine that you exit exactly as unhappily as you entered.
Don't go to parties. Or if you do leave early, because you don't belong there. You don't fit in with those people. You made a complete ass of yourself. They're all just self-interested jerks anyway. Just carelessly happy like a bunch of IDIOTS. Hate them, hate yourself. Go home. Of course, you don't hate them, this is all projection. Just another stupid thing you do to sabotage yourself. Stupid! Why do they invite you to these things anyway? (Don't worry, they will stop).
Never reach out. Never give any sign that you are happy they have reached out. They probably didn't mean it. They probably wouldn't like you anyway. They're probably a bunch of jerks who don't understand what you understand. It probably wouldn't work out. When they start avoiding you in public because they, for some reason, think you don't like them, it will just be another reason to be mad at yourself. Stupid! But also: awesome.
Convince yourself that you are just taking the space you need to get your head together, but resolutely refuse to create a quiet space to get your head together. Procrastination will serve you well here. How can you take time for yourself when you urgently need to clean up a mess you should have dealt with weeks ago? Don't worry, you will get your head together after this crisis. Or maybe after the three you have stacked up right behind it.
Nurture that sense of not belonging anywhere. Ignore any rational thought process that insists that can't possibly be true. Do not look up community events, meet-up groups, churches, sports competitions or community drinking establishments. Loudly lament that you can't find your people anywhere and have no idea where to look. You must be from Mars. They must not be anywhere. Poor you. Poor sad, lonely you.
Don't know yourself. It turns out to be incredibly easy to not find people who share you values when you have no earthly idea what your values actually are. Who are your people? How would you know? You don't know! Good work.
Form an unhealthy relationship with your phone. Pick it up for no reason. Scroll mindlessly. Suddenly wake up and wonder why you phone is in your hand and wonder what you are doing. Oh right, you wanted to check the weather. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Wait, what were you doing? Oh right, the weather. Oh wait. Your brain is mush. You won't be able to get through a sentence in public without habitually picking up your phone to scroll a feed of some sort. This phone is your LIFE, but you couldn't say why. Keep it up!
Blame it on your introversion. Or on extroverts. It is the same thing. Did you zone out while your last friend was sharing a secret heartache with you? I'm sorry, you are introvert and they will have to understand. Were you a fantastic jerk at that party? Such is the burden of introversion. Did you scowl at that woman who had the stunning audacity to be carelessly happy? Sorry babe, total introvert here. Remember, you are never responsible for your behavior so long as you have your introversion to hide behind. Introversion: sword and shield. Wield it well.
If you follow these simple tips, you too can generate the veritable fountain of angst that stems from longing for human contact but rendering yourself unable to generate or sustain it. Good luck you sorry sad sacks. I'd say I'm rooting for you, but I hate you all.
In the meantime I'll be over here wondering "when, oh when, will I find my place in the world?" Just about never if I play my cards right! I'm not only president, I'm also a member.
Friday, August 17, 2018
The 12 Labors
When every soul incarnates on this earth (or someplace like it), the great god Zeus (or some reasonable facsimile) sends the swift god mercury (or at least something zippy with wings) to assign 12 important labors during their time on Earth (or wherever). It is not a punishment, it is not the law, but if you're not going to bother checking off the list, we hope you'll enjoy reincarnation and another exciting opportunity to finish your homework.
These are the labors Zeus (I think) has given you in the year of our lord 2018. They number 12 (ish).
1st Labor. You are to survive your childhood with your spirit intact. There are few true actual, verifiable adults, in the larger multi-contextual cosmic definition of adult, on this planet and so the over-grown children who end up raising you will undoubtedly mess it up in any number of exciting ways. Your job is to survive inattentiveness, over-protectiveness, religious hoo-ha, corporal punishment and all the attendant mind fucks they will inflict on you in order to make you a "productive adult" which rarely happens here. Your job is to learn what is wisdom and what is the unresolved emotional issue of an over-grown child and guard the former while discarding the latter. Unhappy "adults" will attempt to beat the joy out of you over the course of 18 years or so. Do not let them. As you will likely never become a cosmically mature adult over the course of your time here, and the assaults on your spirit will not magically relent over time, you are instructed to continue guarding your spirit indefinitely.
2nd Labor. You must leave your religion. This is not to say you must lose your faith, but you must lose blind devotion to any institution, blind devotion to any institution is by definition religious, and question authority. Especially institutions or authorities that would prefer you not question and instead maintain a blind devotion. Earth is certainly does not lack for institutions who will try to impose a definition of "exactly how it is and it is no different." and holy crap are they wrong. We're all laughing up here at how ludicrously wrong they are, honestly. Zeus is certainly not neutral on the existence and goodness of Zeus, but you also don't have to take someone else's word for it. Think for yourself. The great thing about Zeus is all roads lead back to Zeus (or Athena or the Star Goat or Ethical principles arrived at via Reason and Study or what have you).
3rd Labor. Do not buy what they are selling you. You will be bombarded from an early age, left in the tender care of an sophisticated advertising industry by the stressed out over-grown children that are your parents who are only too happy to let the TV babysit you for 30 goddamn minutes of quiet time, by a barrage of messages indicating you are the best and most central person that has ever existed so long as you buy, buy buy. Products are fun to buy, products are at times necessary to buy, but you may discard the entire messaging industry surround the purchasing of products as the manipulative bullshit it is. Your job is to resist manipulation in all forms, from flattery to insults designed to provoke a sense of insecurity. Humans on earth have developed an extensive machine designed to destroy of obfuscate all context that is not consumerism, so you will have to be vigilant and proactive about resisting and destroying that machine. This labor will last your whole life, so pace yourself.
4th Labor. Give a damn about something other than yourself. People will tell you selfishness leads to the highest good, but they are wrong. Take care of yourself yes, but establishing a context which does not have you at the apex is crucial to walking the Earth as something other than a self-absorbed psychopath, because self-absorbed psychopaths are not fun at parties. You're nice and all, but you're no Zeus. Leave the over-weening, if well-deserved, self-congratulation and adoration to Him. Or Her. Or whoever.
5th Labor. Discover your purpose. You are likely to be born into a society of wealthy hoarders who will tell you hoarding wealth is the highest good and most noble purpose. This is so laughably untrue Zeus can't aim his smite lightning correctly he's laughing so hard (or Athena her bow, or Zarquon his mutation ray). Hoarding wealth looks great to tragically unmedicated hoarders, but there are hundreds if not thousands if not millions of better and more attractive purposes that you will find fulfilling and will help you get laid at parties (getting laid at parties is fine, but not in and of itself likely to be a satisfying lifetime purpose). Not every purpose is for every person, you will probably have to try a few on before you find one you like. This process may take a while so do not give up.
6th Labor. Know what you know and know what you don't know. Embrace humility as the consequence of and only path to knowledge. You're here to learn (see the 10th Labor), and you can't do that if you think you already know everything. Trust Zeus, his messengers, the Goddess Athena and the Benevolent Star Goat Balthazar, you arrive here a blank slate and even the most diligent of students will leave having experienced and learned only a tiny fraction of the greater cosmic reality. The sooner you willingly embrace how little you truly know, the sooner you can get out of your own way and start learning some interesting and useful things in the short time you are given here. To quote one of your most famous philosophers: It's a great big universe, and we're all really puny. Except Zeus. Oof, is he BIG.
7th Labor. Develop whatever personal practice will lead you to internal peace and external kindness. Your time here is too short to spend it at war with yourself and everyone around you. There is a calm at the center of the storm. Find it.
8th Labor. Hold the line against evil without becoming it. There are lost people and corrosive ideologies and flat out evil ideas that are hostile to human bodies and souls alive in this world. They will act and so must you. Your job is to know what is evil and what is not and why. It is further to your job to oppose it in word or deed as necessary, without becoming it yourself. This is, at times, tricky and you are likely to fuck it up. Don't give up! There is nothing evil would rather you believe than it is too hard to oppose evil or too hard to think about silly things like ethics and philosophy. It is not. Know what your ethics are and how they guide your behavior. A well-grounded set of ethical principles will see you through the hardest of times. If your ethics lead you to evil acts or lead you to fail to defend against evil acts then revise, revise, revise.
9th Labor. You must become a better person every day. You'll notice a lack of specificity in the wording of some of these labors. What is evil? What is better? It is part of your job to figure it out. It is a perfectly human response to dissociate and check out and just get by without really thinking about what it means to be a good person and what it means to be better. But your job is not to dissociate, your job is to try. The counter-productive and perfectly human tendencies that inhibit your growth are presented as another exciting opportunity for you to grow and overcome. You may thank Zeus at your leisure. Address all complaints to the Benevolent Star Goat Balthazar.
10th Labor. You have to learn. You have been designed from the ground up to learn automatically every day. Your feelings, your reactions, you instincts, all learned reactions to stimulus. That unconscious learning is a gimme, a value-added product offered free of charge by Zeus, Athena and the grand pantheon of interstellar gods, deities and notable quotables. Conscious learning is then your responsibility. Look, if you're not going to bother, then this whole thing is just a big waste of time. Learn. Learn something interesting and share it with someone else. Zeus commands it.
11th Labor. Help. We're all in this together whether we like it or not. Take care of someone else and they take care of you. That is the deal. That is the best of life as a social primate. Hell is other people but help is other people too. I am sorry, but I don't make the rules. Zeus does! Be a helper. Big yellow birds and kind, be-sweatered men have known for centuries what science is confirming today: helping works.
12th Labor. Die well. Greet the end of your life with no regrets. It doesn't matter than you didn't get it all done, it matters that you tried. It matters that you spent your time well in a way you will not regret at your last breath. Leave a legacy of art, family, friends and ideas who embody what you thought was best in life. Perform your labors and die satisfied. This is Zeus's final task for you, although the Star Goat has also signed off on it.
12ish Labor. More of a reminder really. A rider. An addendum. A "just so you know." You only get the one body and must maintain it yourself. No trade-ins, no do-overs, no fancier models are currently available. We are sorry for the inconvenience.
These are the labors Zeus (I think) has given you in the year of our lord 2018. They number 12 (ish).
1st Labor. You are to survive your childhood with your spirit intact. There are few true actual, verifiable adults, in the larger multi-contextual cosmic definition of adult, on this planet and so the over-grown children who end up raising you will undoubtedly mess it up in any number of exciting ways. Your job is to survive inattentiveness, over-protectiveness, religious hoo-ha, corporal punishment and all the attendant mind fucks they will inflict on you in order to make you a "productive adult" which rarely happens here. Your job is to learn what is wisdom and what is the unresolved emotional issue of an over-grown child and guard the former while discarding the latter. Unhappy "adults" will attempt to beat the joy out of you over the course of 18 years or so. Do not let them. As you will likely never become a cosmically mature adult over the course of your time here, and the assaults on your spirit will not magically relent over time, you are instructed to continue guarding your spirit indefinitely.
2nd Labor. You must leave your religion. This is not to say you must lose your faith, but you must lose blind devotion to any institution, blind devotion to any institution is by definition religious, and question authority. Especially institutions or authorities that would prefer you not question and instead maintain a blind devotion. Earth is certainly does not lack for institutions who will try to impose a definition of "exactly how it is and it is no different." and holy crap are they wrong. We're all laughing up here at how ludicrously wrong they are, honestly. Zeus is certainly not neutral on the existence and goodness of Zeus, but you also don't have to take someone else's word for it. Think for yourself. The great thing about Zeus is all roads lead back to Zeus (or Athena or the Star Goat or Ethical principles arrived at via Reason and Study or what have you).
3rd Labor. Do not buy what they are selling you. You will be bombarded from an early age, left in the tender care of an sophisticated advertising industry by the stressed out over-grown children that are your parents who are only too happy to let the TV babysit you for 30 goddamn minutes of quiet time, by a barrage of messages indicating you are the best and most central person that has ever existed so long as you buy, buy buy. Products are fun to buy, products are at times necessary to buy, but you may discard the entire messaging industry surround the purchasing of products as the manipulative bullshit it is. Your job is to resist manipulation in all forms, from flattery to insults designed to provoke a sense of insecurity. Humans on earth have developed an extensive machine designed to destroy of obfuscate all context that is not consumerism, so you will have to be vigilant and proactive about resisting and destroying that machine. This labor will last your whole life, so pace yourself.
4th Labor. Give a damn about something other than yourself. People will tell you selfishness leads to the highest good, but they are wrong. Take care of yourself yes, but establishing a context which does not have you at the apex is crucial to walking the Earth as something other than a self-absorbed psychopath, because self-absorbed psychopaths are not fun at parties. You're nice and all, but you're no Zeus. Leave the over-weening, if well-deserved, self-congratulation and adoration to Him. Or Her. Or whoever.
5th Labor. Discover your purpose. You are likely to be born into a society of wealthy hoarders who will tell you hoarding wealth is the highest good and most noble purpose. This is so laughably untrue Zeus can't aim his smite lightning correctly he's laughing so hard (or Athena her bow, or Zarquon his mutation ray). Hoarding wealth looks great to tragically unmedicated hoarders, but there are hundreds if not thousands if not millions of better and more attractive purposes that you will find fulfilling and will help you get laid at parties (getting laid at parties is fine, but not in and of itself likely to be a satisfying lifetime purpose). Not every purpose is for every person, you will probably have to try a few on before you find one you like. This process may take a while so do not give up.
6th Labor. Know what you know and know what you don't know. Embrace humility as the consequence of and only path to knowledge. You're here to learn (see the 10th Labor), and you can't do that if you think you already know everything. Trust Zeus, his messengers, the Goddess Athena and the Benevolent Star Goat Balthazar, you arrive here a blank slate and even the most diligent of students will leave having experienced and learned only a tiny fraction of the greater cosmic reality. The sooner you willingly embrace how little you truly know, the sooner you can get out of your own way and start learning some interesting and useful things in the short time you are given here. To quote one of your most famous philosophers: It's a great big universe, and we're all really puny. Except Zeus. Oof, is he BIG.
7th Labor. Develop whatever personal practice will lead you to internal peace and external kindness. Your time here is too short to spend it at war with yourself and everyone around you. There is a calm at the center of the storm. Find it.
8th Labor. Hold the line against evil without becoming it. There are lost people and corrosive ideologies and flat out evil ideas that are hostile to human bodies and souls alive in this world. They will act and so must you. Your job is to know what is evil and what is not and why. It is further to your job to oppose it in word or deed as necessary, without becoming it yourself. This is, at times, tricky and you are likely to fuck it up. Don't give up! There is nothing evil would rather you believe than it is too hard to oppose evil or too hard to think about silly things like ethics and philosophy. It is not. Know what your ethics are and how they guide your behavior. A well-grounded set of ethical principles will see you through the hardest of times. If your ethics lead you to evil acts or lead you to fail to defend against evil acts then revise, revise, revise.
9th Labor. You must become a better person every day. You'll notice a lack of specificity in the wording of some of these labors. What is evil? What is better? It is part of your job to figure it out. It is a perfectly human response to dissociate and check out and just get by without really thinking about what it means to be a good person and what it means to be better. But your job is not to dissociate, your job is to try. The counter-productive and perfectly human tendencies that inhibit your growth are presented as another exciting opportunity for you to grow and overcome. You may thank Zeus at your leisure. Address all complaints to the Benevolent Star Goat Balthazar.
10th Labor. You have to learn. You have been designed from the ground up to learn automatically every day. Your feelings, your reactions, you instincts, all learned reactions to stimulus. That unconscious learning is a gimme, a value-added product offered free of charge by Zeus, Athena and the grand pantheon of interstellar gods, deities and notable quotables. Conscious learning is then your responsibility. Look, if you're not going to bother, then this whole thing is just a big waste of time. Learn. Learn something interesting and share it with someone else. Zeus commands it.
11th Labor. Help. We're all in this together whether we like it or not. Take care of someone else and they take care of you. That is the deal. That is the best of life as a social primate. Hell is other people but help is other people too. I am sorry, but I don't make the rules. Zeus does! Be a helper. Big yellow birds and kind, be-sweatered men have known for centuries what science is confirming today: helping works.
12th Labor. Die well. Greet the end of your life with no regrets. It doesn't matter than you didn't get it all done, it matters that you tried. It matters that you spent your time well in a way you will not regret at your last breath. Leave a legacy of art, family, friends and ideas who embody what you thought was best in life. Perform your labors and die satisfied. This is Zeus's final task for you, although the Star Goat has also signed off on it.
12ish Labor. More of a reminder really. A rider. An addendum. A "just so you know." You only get the one body and must maintain it yourself. No trade-ins, no do-overs, no fancier models are currently available. We are sorry for the inconvenience.
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