Archive for December, 2012

Drinking, Love, and Translation

December 31, 2012

; I feel like I’m going back in time, back to all the things that interested me once — drinking, girls, and literature.
; It’s not what it sounds like, I wasn’t a party animal, but all these things seem to hold, actually, a very similar sort of sway over one
; very similar in fact to what we’ve been calling “the visibility problem”
; though I suspect that we were far too specific there.
; all these things are a kind of interruption, a focus on the moment
; “the moment”, the “impossibly thin moment” — that was how we described, in the “visibility problem”, the feeling that one should be able to see how one thinks
; this moment is also an “addition”, it is a new fantasy at the same time that it is an analysis or a breaking apart of an old one.
; all these things are related! —
;
; 1) drinking — drinking is an interruption in normal functioning
; there is a high degree of self-awareness in all drugs, which is not, in fact, as some might think, a “new power” or something
; but it comes from — conceived of conceptually, and naively — the breaking up of experience, a new strange self-consciousness
; I can tell you the exact moment when weed went from mind-expaning to a source of anxiety and paranoia
; — and that is not a physiological shift but rather … one based on concepts, for me.
; less naively, it is the the vivid reencounter of some agent we’ve always know to be there
; — hmmm — well, hold on for a second there …
;
; the great thing about our last thinking of translation was that — and this might sound wishy washy — that we left it “as is” in a way
; translation is a mystery to us, but there is a sense of nobility there, a sense of something breaking apart
; this is the same thing with drinking too — something new arises about drinking, we attribute it a powerful and subtle political effect
; I can’t imagine any kind of politics taking place without some manifesto on drinking, drugs, or otherwise …
; so that “less naively” — we should say that the breaking up of the consciousness is really how things tend to settle
; I still remember very vividly the strange seem of impossible self-awareness: seeing oneself see — that I experienced when I first tried weed
;
; AS I APPROACH THE HORRIBLE NEXUS
;
; At the same time, of course, I recoil in horror —
; I have returned — returned to the horrible nexus — which is precisely the intersection of nobility, drinking, love, and and literature,
; but whereas these things simply rotted there before, in that horrible sense of decadence,
; I feel like our task is clearer now, because we know to be more than descriptive
; yet there is something powerful about this nexus nonetheless…
;
; NEXT: New Nobilities

 

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Translation Neurosis

December 30, 2012

> A well translated text has a powerful but difficult to place effect a person.
> Whenever I think of this topic, I always think of a horrible class I took in college … which involved talking about Alexander Dumas in China.
> That always struck me as a poor translation — apparently the Chinese really liked one of the more obscure Dumas books … The Lady of the Camelias
> It was quite a horrible book … but I guess my point is that a poor translation tends to sink almost seamlessly into another culture
> — what most people would call a “great translation”, then, or “a book of universal (or at least popular) appeal”
> Good lord, what incredible nausea I feel upon recounting that book and that class…
>
> But the effect of a sharp translation — yes, the effect — is neither sentimental outpouring
> Nor simply exoticism, of course,
> But ratgher a kind of sharp, almost political restlessness
> I don’t think it’s exoticism, but a good translation seems to reach back to the beginnings of own’s own langauge, doesn’t it?
> It fills one with new visions — unexperienced — of the incredibly old — or noble — oddly enough without nihilism
> I actually have as my political persuasion, on Facebook, “aristocratic” — which — all snickering aside — is in a sense a position, though vaguely understood
> all but impossible to represent, except perhaps by the voice of translation
> (… yet translation is not merely a voice, but rather, figures, up to things we haven’t thought of before)
>
> A (well) translated text makes one noble, which also means, neurotic, I think this is incidentally what Bartleby is getting at as well.
>
>
> Full disclosure, this is certainly related to what we spoke about before, about the “figure of reflection”, the “narratives of visibility” and how they applied to Kant and Descartes.
> That problem of visibility, we said, was not real but probably related to rigor — it is precisely the sense of a “new subcosncious” that is associated with translation, above.

Kant and (a)holism

December 23, 2012

> I feel like what I’ve been thinking about a big insight these last few days (not really including the previous post).
> It’s basically involves “the observor illusion” — the fragmented and vague ways in which we feel we are able to “do things” — “to do things with things”.
> We know well enough that we respond “naturally”, “subconsciously”, or “programmatically” to things — that’s what I had been dealing with up to now.
> But there is in some sense a more “fundamental” behavior (and fundamental — in what sense? we will ask), which is not how we behave “in the world” but how we behave towards ‘things”.
> Let’s talk about Descartes, and then Kant —  it’s been a good 7 years since I’ve actually read either of these people, so that my understanding is very much an “accepted” understanding, so this is just a vague overview or commentary …
> So the famous Cartesian phrase is, “I think therefore I am”, which assumes, in fact, an ability to observe thinking, to observe myself thinking — ad infinitum?
> “I see myself think, therefore I am”, “I see myself see myself think, therefore I am”, etc.
> Well, not ad infinitum — what we become aware of is this kind of implicit processing, which in fact doesn’t take place physiologically.
> But rather it is fragmented, in many senses — we rely on it, it is “fundamental” in this sense, but it never really occurs in reality, there is the sense that we call upon it when we need it.
> In other words, what power or ability that Descartes is relying on, in order to be able to “observe” or to “reflect”?
> It really isn’t explicit, it is not “fundamental”, it doesn’t “really happen”, but yet, I sense, it is part of our complex relationship to .. things — to memories, images, or something lower? And to be able to work with things.
> Thus, this sense of the “fundamental” is rather interesting, since, denying, as we are, any kind of downwards progression or phyislogical reality, it is really “of the same order of illusion” as everything else we do (eg, our lives “in the world”) but yet we say it is “ordering, fundamental”.
>
> Let’s move on to Kant — Kant is really proposing — I mean, again, in the received understanding — a “holistic’ understanding of the world.
> In other words, there is no “pipeline” of thinking (even if this pipeline is circular) that we are used to thinking — eg, the pipeline from the world, to perception, to memory, to understanding, and maybe some kind of complex circular interplay.
> Rather, he attempted to deduce holistic statements about the overall form of our understanding, so it seems.
> We find what we are looking for, in a sense.
> The problem we pose would be the same: that Kant relies on an unquestioned understanding of the observor and his relationship to … things.
> In one sense, yes, we are accusing Kant of being blind to the very simple question of — but how do you know — how is Kant able to make the claims he is making?
> There is a sense that Kant has aleady anticipated our question, and that his defenders may simply say that we’re missing the point, and that this questioning itself is naive, or precisely the impasse that Kant is trying to get past in his project.
> Indeed, Kant seems to be mostly interested in preestablished narratives of behavior, and why they work the way they do.
> But actually, this question is undeniable, if we are to read Kant carefully, and consider all the leaps that he is making.
> In other words, if we shift focus from the claimed topic of study — some set of human behavior — to the actual way in which Kant argues.
> There, the observor phenomena seems — undeniable.
> Kant, I suspect, was not oblivious to this question, and in fact, because of what we pointed out about (absence of) ad infinitum and what “fundamental” means in this case, it would not really involve a radical change in method — but rather, simply the shift from holism to (a)holism — the shift from dealing with cultral events that seem well-established to events that are not simply “incomplete” or “in the pipeline”, but rather, complete and yet fragmented.
>
> TBC

Coming Back Wrong (Revenents in the Heart of Darkness)

December 20, 2012

> I’ve been trying to work out some issues this last week, mostly involving how the world is basically like “the Matrix”.
> The problem is not falling into a superiority complex, or, more precisely, the problem is performing finitude — attempting to perform a circle, or perform the fear of taking a step — the fear of success and progress.
> (This form of paranoia is actually very different from the “lucid paranoia” we spoke of months ago, in “The Danger of Reading” — this is my own error or my own progress.)
> This is such an old problem that it sounds like I’ve regressed — “true thinking only occurs when thought turns back on itself”.
> And, for all those philosophers who express so much skepticism, it seems as though they never reach the point of doubting themselves.
>
> So the setup is very old or banal, yet perhaps we have discovered a new way of approaching it, of performing this impasse.
> What interests me is the final few pages of the Heart of Darkness, where Marlow returns from Africa.
> He has become a very bitter person — (yet I’ve come to question the validity of my bitterness in the past few days…) — he expresses a loss of apetite, he can’t stomach “their awful food” or their “stupid sense of self-importance”.
> So we can definitely relate to that.
> But he expresses a surprise, when he goes to visit the Intended, he is suprised that certain things have returned.
> First of all, Kurtz himself — his voice, as the wind through the leaves seem to whisper, “the horror, the horror”.
> And, in a memorable final passage, he does make reference to the river, the Intended “spread her arms over the river, the infernal river of darkness”.
> And finally, what’s striking to me here, there is the return of a kind of pathos, as Marlow, who is not really someone open to empathy, finds himself struck by these bouts of “infinite pity”.
>
> For me, he is talking about the return of the subconscious, of all those things that we had once rejected.
> It’s as if everything were starting over again, it’s as if there were a loop.
> I have many drafts here, many of which deal with the return-with-a-difference of the subconscious, which we made a point to empty out.
> — a position that would certainly allow us to “laugh in faces of perfectly respectable people”, as Marlow said of himself — since we noted that the subconscious is a kind of grand illusion.
> — the subconscious is one component, actually, of “The Matrix”, it is that which we insist on finding everywhere, the ordering of cause and effect.
> So we would like to do without the subconscoius, but, at the same time, the subconscious always returns: why?
> It’s perhaps because of our condition of finitude — it’s how we experience and make sense of events. Without the subconscious we would simply be artificially suppressing the nuances of our experience.
> Yet we do not want to here be content with merely cultural analysis, but rather, it returns with a difference.
> Or perhaps we return with a difference too.
> For example, I actually wrote on Facebook the other day:

Paul De Man is easily the world’s most enigmatic dead philosopher. Despite being probably the most influential thinker of the 20c his name is never brought up by ‘intellectuals’, basically because he cannot be caricatured like supposedly ‘mysterious’ people like, say, John Nash or Bobby Fischer, who have basically become cartoon characters — there will thankfully not be any Hollywood or ‘indie’ movies about him. He devoted all his efforts to writing glorified book reports with almost no formal arguments, propositions, concepts, or anything resembling philosophy, relying instead on what appear to be humanistic tautologies. … actually, the applicable trope may be that he ‘came back different’: even in zen, there is the sense that the state one wanted to reach was not cartoony transcendance, and that the most rigorous acknowledgement of our finitude or the emptiness of our minds would cause one to behave no different, but somehow also very differently.There is a lot of pretension in how people who believe they have transcended carry themselves, you could say

> Let’s just regard this as an intersting narrative — but it speaks of Paul De Man as someone who has “come back different”, who avoids any kind of systematic and progressive development out of “paranoia” and instead focuses on criticism.
> So we come back different, but also, perhaps more importantly, the subconscious itself seems to come back differently — and this is the point of the final pages of the Heart of Darkness.

> This is just a setup, the question is, of course, the description of these figures, how they come back different, and how that relates to our understanding of the world as “the Matrix” (and the emptying out of the world) but I’m just going to stop here for now since it’s been so long since I’ve been able to even make a good start.

Vague Orbits (Theoretical Model of History)

December 13, 2012

"If you're as cool as I am and have a favorite wool hoodie,
and you wonder why all your mp3 players mysteriously stop working come winter
...it's because there is a clown car full of lint in the audio jack.
It's not easy being so hip and fashionable."

I just wrote that on facebook, and I am very very excited
because I finally get to listen to music again, after about 2 weeks,
so immeeeeerrrsse my souuuullll in loooooooove ("street spirit")
This is purely coincidental, but I'm also thinking of being less racist.
now, mind you, I've always been against "incivility", public racism,
but how you feel about other cultures inside your head is your own choice
and if you have overwhelmingly negative experiences with a culture,
well, then it would be condescending *not* to be racist --
"not know any better?", "acceptable differences?"
fuck that, they aren't idiots, they are intelligent human beings,
they SHOULD know better but they don't, and they should just -- disappear!

There's nothing wrong with THAT,
but maybe I have some considerations here to the contrary,
namely, consider the old models of power,
of creators and changers -- where does the power go?
Part of what justified racism for me was, at least, that they were in power
this assumes that those in power harness power somehow,
and that there are the creators (those who establish power)
and the changers (those who try to reprogram power)
after all, it seems as though what is most intolerable about people
   is their *banality*, that they think their shit is new or worth it
   their *oppressive* banality!
but perhaps no one is in power, perhaps we are all losers in history
so that, in that expression called "horror" which already expresses two things
1, a sudden insight or realization
and 2, a sense of helplessness despite this realization
a helplessness that always assumed a relentless *human* power
there is a *3rd* component: the horror of individuals in their loneliness.
In other words, inner racism would be less justifiable
   if it weren't allied with weakness, and against the dominant power
   if the dominant power werent' human
but something like the wind of history
and if humans were, in fact, at every moment, asking for redemption
if there were no creator / changer division among humans.

This is actually related to another thing I've been thinking about --
I've realize recently that I've been too naive with my psychological models
I've still been attempting to talk about some feedback cycle
   between perception, memory, and and action
but now i want to avoid talking about the raw details of memory formation
   (and by memory, I mean, memory programming, our "natural" actions)
but rather speak about a kind of "top down" alteration in memory
where the task is changing the narrative
where the primary purpose is political, diverting power away from
   that mysterious and perhaps nonhuman current in history.
To turn the "creator" (teleologic history) into the "changer".
In other words -- Nietzsche said "everything came from war,
   no -- everything *good* came from war"
but this is wrong -- war is simply the condition of power,
and even if this were factually true, it doesn't have to be,
ie, if war represents this massive human organizing, this "creator" configuration
-- Conrad spoke about war differently --
he did say that, yes, that "it was glorified murder on a grand scale",
something about "taking land away from those who had slightly flatter noses than us",
but he also said that there was a "glorious *idea* behind it all,
  something that you can worship, bow down to"
thus evoking this "creator" configuration.
But there is actually far less emphasis on war as an organizing or creative force,
war seems to be simply just how it happened, but not the only way,
correlation not causation.

Our model of history, then, is two-fold
there is, yes, war, and grand systemic things
but we are not economists, we are not so teleolgic --
that is, when, say, a consumer looks at a product, there is a desire there
how? why? who knows? this is not treated by economics
but this desire is only teleologically meaningful as the transfer of wealth.
So that, on the other hand, there is the ... narrative state
which is something not so clear -- no, not so clear at all --
but which may be temporarily aligned towards some system,
-- inevitably -- systems will always form, but they are not the causa-prima
but always, at the same time, carries the possibility of "redemption"
the counter-history, and this is the "vague orbit" --
-- "not so clear at all" --
around something else, but not around the system.

TBC: Practice / implementation!

The Double Transformation (Ode to a Nightingale)

December 6, 2012

I want to outline a strategy for reading, some of it more general than just OTN.

OTN should be read as a real event. We spoke a lot about “counternarratives recently”, our latest essays have basically been the justification of the idea that the touching can also be the significant, but without relying on human as the middleman — but rather, the touching is the psychologically significant even if there is no one around to champion its name.

In my notes, I have written in big letters, “I have returned” — I mean, retunred from theoretical thinking — which we needed — we need that time and those thoughts to come to peace with ourselves and what we do. Because what we do, I admit, is on the border of cheating, politics, and truth. This reminds me of that line at the end of “Ode on a Grecian Urn” — “Beauty is turth, truth is beauty — that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”. “All ye need to know” — very interesting — this line, it seems to me, expresses very compactly this border of cheating, politcs, and truth that we have just returned from.

In other words, from now on, having thought long about how truth could perhaps be there, it’s time we move onto the act of cheating itself — and this means trusting our guts.

OTN is a kind of double transformation: the transformation of the threshold — double since the latter is itself already a transformation, or at least the feeling of being on the verge of a transformation. Thus, transformation of transformation.

Indeed, what’s interesting about a lot of these poems, Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a Nightingale, is that Keats is quite explictly talking about a moment of transformation — it expresses his commitment to the things that we aourselves are interested in — namely, the emptied out mind, the unrooted subconscious, subconscious transformed into memory… In other words, these poems are already very theoretically relevent — they could be understood as a response, even, to our theoretical interests.

This is a big deal — that Keats is talking about an event. This is one of the consequences of our truth / beauty / cheating configuration: the issue of “redemption” and not of “repression” — where the real event is entirely mistargeted, if you will. This is a consequence of our unrooting of the subconscious. In other words, regarding the issue of “reading against the grain” — we will not be attempting to search for Freudian slips or anything, but we will be searching for something quite similar, the “transformation of the threshold”, the transformation of the origin, if you will — if the subconscious is unrooted (removed from it’s root position) so that rememberance itself occupies this position.

.. Original Rememberance — that was one of the unwritten essays I have here — it is an oxymoron, since rememberance in is not the origin, it remembers the origin. And yet it is what we must insist on if we are to unroot the subconscious.

Drinking is very interesting, it is a sense of despair — it is what I called “dreams” in “Dreams and Hyperconsciousness” where I complained that I no longer had ready access to the past, but I must rely on something else (dreams) to carry me there — my own past, the truth of my past, is all but closed off to me, I, oddly enough, need external, artificial stimulants in order to reach that original moment.

But Keats does succeed, the voice of the Nightingale acts as this artificial external stiumulant — or perhaps something else — “Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, / But on the viewless wings of Poesy”. And here, in this conscious, or semi-conscious state, Keats carries on the political effort of rewriting history.

And in this task he is not alone, he is joined by other liberals, other poets. But this is something we already know, this is the infernal machine, tbis is the conscious programming of the subconscious, or, the programming of apparently subconscious memory via the consciousness.  So our real task is specify the second moment of transformation.

To be honest I do not know how to proceed from here — I mean, I have not yet formed the argument — there is always something to discover here if we try hard enough — as we rewrite the origin, along with Keats.

I here suggest that there is a second moment of distortion, which is not, of course, a latent root subconscious but rather a moment of distortion (the uncanny) and not represssion

 

— TBC, FOR SURE —

Critique of the Subconscious

December 4, 2012

We have a hard time working without some notion of the subconscious, yet we are also prone to conventional assumptions. The model of the subconscious that we tend to develop is rather “Hollywood” despite our best intentions. Let’s here attempt to propose a better model of the subconscious.

First of all, there is no reason to assume that the subconscious is somehow a different portion of the brain. The Hollywood version we are often stuck with — well, everything is wrong about that — but, for one thing, it assumes that the subconscious constructs an alternate world via independent means. But our minds are not split into two parts, the subconscious operates in the very same region.

The whole “wish fullfilment” thing is wrong too, or rather, by extension of the above. The subconscious is not an attempt to “reprocess” the conscious experiences of the day, it does not “add onto” the conscious experience. There is the notion that the subconscious takes up and rearranges and adds to our conscious expereince, but this cannot be so.

The fact that this Hollywood subconscious is so pervasive definitely points to something. And this isn’t written from the perspective of someone who has, you know, always been above it all, always known — this is a recognition of my own error. I had unwittingly espoused such a model, not even realizing that it needed to be questioned. This moment feels like a “Eureka!” sort of moment because in retrospect, I ask myself, “Did I really believe in that??”

But — as we were saying, we need some concept of the subconscious because we often do not want to own up to all the things that we do. Well, there are other reasons t00 — as an explanation for certain behaviours, perhaps. Furthermore, we need the subconscious to explain that sense of unthinking naturalness with which we do things. But really, that’s simply just operating by memory. That is, we need not assume an a priori, natural doing, simply because we always do before we think, simply because everything we do is in fact. “natural”, by this observation. In other words, the vast majority of cases, when we say, “subconsciousness”, “memory” is enough, doing by memory.

The subconscious, as a concept, is so familiar to us that we readily look to it as an explanation of many of our experiences. But I want to suggest, instead, two alternative thinkings: (1) Rememberance &  (2) The liminal condition.

Rememberance — Rememberance is the experience of “remembering clearly”. We won’t call it a “flashback or anything”, but rather, I think this is what we called, earlier, “counternarratives”. Counternarratives seems to suggest some kind of leftist political agenda, but actually it is simply understanding itself. To understand something — that means, to cut into it, to, yes, read everything, but also to focus and to differentiate between things. Understanding is paradoxically comprehension (that is, to grasp, to comprehend everything) and focus — and this is because it understands certain things as unimportant even while interpreting precisely. I guess my point here is simply that understanding includes understanding something as unimportant.

So understanding is always “against” something, to the extent that any personal entering into the work reads “violently” in this way. This is differentiated from a kind of mere “processing”, where such a incisive differentiation (between the important and the unimportant, the focus of understanding) is not made. The point is that all understanding (in the strong sense) consists of counternarratives.

Thus, understanding is related to remembrance, a kind of vivid recollection, the image at the core of the counternarrative. This is a consequence of our above claim that, well, the subconscious doesn’t exist. Rememberance is always related to the remembering of the latent operation of a possibly repressed “counter-consciousness” — that is true, but it is itself also an event, and in fact the origin of the subconsciousness. This is actually a necessary consequence of the fact that the Hollywood subconscious doesn’t exist. That is, as a “proof”, consider: even though rememberance is the remembering of a latent counter-narrative, we are assuming that the subconscious does not in fact exist. Thus, that latent counternarrative was planted there, precisely by the moment of remembrance, which is a vision that comprehends or holds together these two conflicting moments.

Liminal condition — If the subconscious does not exist, than the liminal condition, where one holds a paradox together, is the origin, and of utmost importance. We will want to talk about that Keatsian line, “Fled is that music — do I wake or sleep?” — TBC

Time, Space, and the Subconsciousness

December 2, 2012

I think that we have the subconscious all wrong. We view the subconscious as the mystical origin of things, but we actually have everything backwards. The subconscious is actually the origin that is placed there afterwards. That’s the outline of the argument I want to make anyways, an argument that I am not too confident on. Basically, I want to talk about the formation of the subconsciousness, which in fact occurs during consciousness.

Well, the situation here is sort of like the difference between wake and sleep. Our dreams are based on the events of teh previous day, they seem to give a mystical holism to what we experience in a fragmentary way in waking life. The question that Keats poses at the end of Ode to a Nightingale is worth mentioning here: “Fled is that music — do I wake or sleep?”

— Keats speaks of the undecidability of wake or sleep. Now, wake or sleep is an opposition we are familiar with, there are many ways of conceiving of it. I have here in my notes the opposition between “threshold and encounter”: wakefulness corresponds to the feeling of standing on a threshold, of looking out towards something and being on the verge of taking a step, while sleep corresponds to the “encounter” — something that we feel, something that seems to match what we are waiting for. Maybe, desire and fulfillment. But the opposition that I’m most interested in is the present and the past: the present corresponds to wakefulness, the past corresponds to dream. And here, Keats speaks of a moment when he is uncertain as to where he is: “Do I wake or sleep?” I am before something, caught at a threshold: I was not able to follow the nightingale, who now flees over the valley. I recall the first four stanzas poised as a standing at and a rejection of various cliches or transport, a taking up / dismissing which dramatizes the threshold. And yet, at this very moment, I am also caught in a dreamlike world. I, paradoxically enough, encounter the threshold.

The line that interests me about Wordsworth’s Boy of Winander is that line about “enter unawares” — how the elements of waking life enter unawares into the dream life — the very thing we are interested in, the formation of the subconscious. What’s odd here is that, temporally, wakefulness precedes sleep, but yet, in another sense, dream precedes wakefulness — to be more precise, at the moment of action, we do not think through, we rely on our subconscious — and we know, well enough, that the subconscious is really the key to our happiness — I mean, there is some truth to the adadge that money can’t buy happiness, because happiness comes from a sense of belonging, which is why love brings happiness. (The real question is actually whether happiness is really worth it) —

Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake.

There are actually a few things I want to talk about: “the error of desire”, “the uncanny”, “the infernal wheel”.

I halt here, because I am aware that I don’t simply want to give a straightfoward account of the formation of the subconscious, precisely because such an account is based on desire. This is how Freud originally conceived of dreams — as wish fulfillment — and this is also actually the argument given in that essay about paranoia (“The Danger of Reading”) — that dreams are a response to the pain of being at a threshold or of the feeling of fragmentation there. But this is actually not the case, the dream is actually more “logical” than that — which is another way, really, of saying that the subconsciousness really doesn’t exist. The present that fades into the past leaves us with a kind of image of history, so that the paradoxical “encounter with the threshold” is actually a retrospective postulate — as though I had encountered something. The subconscious is purely narrative, purely speculative — in the final analysis it is, indeed, merely memory activation, which is what gives it a sense of naturalness or belongingness. But we actually want to exclude consciousness from this —

I mean, this might sound confusing, but we don’t simply want to say, yes, all that we do is simply determininistic memory activation, which is indeed true on some level, but this would give a totalizing view of the subconscious — there would be nothing that isn’t subconscious. … well, yes, we can never think and see at the same time, and this is our experience… our present always fades into the past, and this disjunction is really what we call the subconscious. So, in that sense, yes, everything is subconscious, the subconscious is simply our lack inability to control, it is a consequence of the passage of time. But there is also the sense of being before something (in the non-temproal sense … and maybe also the temporal one), which we called, “the threshold”, being before a threshold: and this is the moment when time seems to stop, even if it doesn’t. If the subconsciousness is temporal, than the consciousness would be spatial.

… the infernal wheel refers to the construction of our reality based on these two .. vectors, if you will. We’ve long recognized, being a “ball of hate”, that what’s despisable is not the form being constucted but the very construction itself. Which really means that we are talking here, somehow, about the stopping of time, about some uncanny moment, and not so much about reprogramming.

TBC: OTN’s “Forlorn”