Month: April 2003

Perhaps photography has been around longer than we think, hmm?

“When silver is melted, some small lead-colored particles remain at the bottom of the recipient. If these particles are taken and mixed with animal resin, a thick solution will be obtained which must be poured into a recipient where light does not penetrate.

Then, in absolute darkness, a metallic plate can be impregnated with this solution and is then ready upon exposure to the sun’s rays to record the contours of any object that is placed upon it.**”
**Texts found in 1925 by the Catalan historian Pedro Pl?. They were found in the regional library in Granada amongst manuscripts from Alexandria

…wandering around a bookstore (a loop around a core, as though walking inside of a doughnot) pulling random books from shelves and wandering… found a book by a famed philosopher (greek, roman, chinese?) and read it all. CHOMP. left the leavings on the floor… digested argument… (though can’t remember it now. but recollect that it had something to do with some inherent nature of THINGS) mulled over book just read… found another title. this a satiric rebuttal of the original (in penguin-form) full of heartless glee which also CHOMP consuming… contained both in head simulcast… staggered? or enjoying the fullness of brain? this bookstore was abandoned: they didn’t mind the book-consumption… the only people were found in the urination room. where the dream…

What is the essence of a face? Perhaps this is wishful thinking, but what if the increasing digitalization of the representation of identity (in all its many forms, be it: face, fingerprints, DNA, etc.) enables people to bind that representation more tightly to what makes them THEM.

For example, computerized textual analysis now allows for the identification of anonymous authors simply by the statistical preponderance of word usage and grammatical structure. Is this merely another way to identify someone? Or does it express something a little more wonderful? Doesn’t it rather suggest that writing is a unique way to experience the (temporary?) linguistic patterns in someone else’s brain?

Okay, so that was a tangent.

People, in general, don’t walk down the street wearing masks. Socially, there is value in recognizing and being recognized. Why would this not be true also in the “online’ universe? What would be the impact of individuals being able to take ownership of their own genetic code, for example?

…chronic restriction of sleep to 6 h or less per night produced cognitive performance deficits equivalent to up to 2 nights of total sleep deprivation…

This might explain some things. Such as, the mammoth coffee consumption by yours truly and flocks and scores of people everywhere. Among other things. Just thinking about all of those sleep deprived drivers zooming around makes my neck hair curl. Ponder the miracle there.

Never much liked the spidery things. All their wavery arms and their tendrical legs. Oh, and their mandibulistic and bombastical skittering to and fro. Yeah, there’s a certain amount of nightmare stuff leftover from past days of childish womp.

So, there’s something to be said for misliking bees. Bees being things with stingers. But methinks honey is a glorious nectar from which to drink.

Gnaw Gnaw the honeycomb, i go. Grumble grumble, goes the belly: it’s always eating processed sugar these days and no NONO honey to speak of any old way (except for tuesdays, and maybe mondays and sundays?)

there’s so much webstuff or surging surf to keep the mind occupado. is it just a distraction? or is there a purposeful mindliness to this thing…?

An essay analyzing Gulf War I from a Freudian perspective. One would like to think that history wasn’t a result of subconscious emotional turmoil…

Interestingly, the Krishnamurti Foundation of America says something quite similar.

all the world turned into webs of light
so, the connections keep connecting to all the other connections that connect to everything not already connected to the connections. (even the coffee pots in some old buildings where people drink coffee: who knows when to refill it? all the monkeys who cycle through there, methinks)

alternately, while dreaming of pizzas, with a receipt in hand, while waiting in a line of fools (or foodeaters) or lotoseaters or whathaveyou. wouldn’t you know my slice of pizza didn’t come through the pizza drawer. waiting in line for a pieceza that never comes. trying to ignore that utteromen.

walked the clouds (i mean, watched–fooly me) creeping over the western hills, saw their growling darkness. (why in april? it’s the cruellest) woke the arches in glomylite.

aboutface: drowning in paper/electronic madness.

gurgle the free libros, you naawty pilgrums.

“Elephant sets antelopes free“

yay, for the dreamworld chiaroscuros. letting all the lethecicles drainway. can all the springs inside a bag (listen to them jumble all about!); to wit: some deraims (or phantasies) followed me home last night.

and found myself trawling through some kind of mechanised post-indu space. airport? or transgression terminal? or a corncob cavalcade?
(or there i go again, naughty-fellowme, bringing up that) there were important conversations. but foolishly i didn’t peg them down with words, nail those fluttering dreamthoughts to the board, watch their sputtering, spraying green dream ooze everywhere.

so, that’s the ticket indeed. and that’s the question indeed.

what lies beneath the hamper of all our dirty clothes, and who’ll pull the next sock out?

Some photographs taken with pinhole cameras.

If only I had a grand idea like this….