Holy wow
I dare say this is the finest post I've ever read here.
whatever comes to mind
I dare say this is the finest post I've ever read here.
mind
merely
a search
an almost
but never quite
a finding
stopping short at
re-flection
re-presentation
wake the fuck in
raw awareness towardYou might want to think about the power <coughs> of however many handfuls of words however many handfuls of powerless (relative to said monopolies) people spend their time staring at a screen over – especially given I'm pretty sure staring at screens doesn't hold a wet match to actually doing something. I mean, not to be critical. It took me a long time to finally realize how DOING THE VERY THING WE'RE DOING HERE just might be proof of having been hoodwinked by said Cabal™....
If you really want to experience something, find some down-and-out kids, and... do whatever with them. Show them some moves on the court. Ask them what their lives are like. Tell 'em about that stereo gear stuff you're rather up on. ANYTHING but just sit in front of a screen.
There are some intensely big needs out there, and none of them are solved by being chained (I'm pretty sure I'm not exaggerating, there...) to a god-motherfucking-damned screen. They're maybe solved (or at least salved) by going to where there needs are, and pouring some attention and effort into them.
Maybe it's not kids. Maybe it's the elderly. Maybe people your age. Maybe people my age. Whatever you feel you might be able to work some “hey, I'm listening to ya” magic with.
My transitioning to teaching middle-schoolers math and compsci has been mind-bogglingly eye-opening. I mean, yeah, there's a huge sorrow aspect. But, my god, the feeling of seeing they're feeling understood and cared for? Of finally getting something others just glossed over with videos/worksheets/etc.?
Un. Fucking. Believable.
So what I'm pretty much saying here is when we cheat others of our talents, we cheat ourselves. We miss out on insanely satisfying payback.
But, no illusions here: it's hard. Takes a while to find the handle, to build momentum, trust, etc.
OR continue mostly staring at a screen and, well... you already know what I'm sayin'.....
Seems to me you've a ton to offer. But your words – while very well crafted – are more in the order of magnitude of pico-grams than pounds – let alone tons.
Your favorite fan, Inquiry
Fascinating.
I was talking Marantz in the late 1970s, actually, and for me that sort of “big components” stuff seemed already passe (aka “lame” aka “whatEV”) by the 1990s.
Wish I could remember what brand CD player I favored. All I know is it supported pushing a set of six CDs sitting in a cartridge into its frame, allowing selecting any track of the six CD... or just having it play through them all. (It was programmable in various ways, but I don't remember the details.)
That was super handy, especially for favorites, because then I could just grab one or a few of those cartridges for road trips, extracting them one at a time as needed for the single CD car player without having to worry much about any of them getting damaged.
I still have all those cartridges (I believe I had at least 10...). One of these days I hope to go through them all.
Saying that reminds me of the trade off between doing this (“blogging”) and doing that.
I long ago concluded utility was what was most important to me. I never needed to impress anyone with gear, and realized my ears were likely not good enough to appreciate finer (read: more expensive) spectral differences... and of course just because the audio processing portion is better in that way doesn't mean one's speakers are... or one's headphones... earbuds... and then listening context is even bigger than that, e.g. extraneous noise of all varieties. <exhales hard>
And then I was mostly a Beatles fan anyway, and their stuff mostly wasn't engineered for the playback wherewithal details to matter much. So....
> Inquiry, I see you have returned (stay a while, will ya?).
I'm pretty busy these days. But seeing as I have a few early morning moments....
I believe the gear that made my salivary glands most active back then was branded “Marantz”.
However, I had a friend less impressed with the look than with the sound, and he swore by a brand named “Carver”.
No idea if either brand survived all these decades. I suppose I could look online, but my gosh how jaded I've become about the veracity of pretty much anything and everything online. I wouldn't be surprised if some nefarious page indexer/sweeper turns the little bit I typed about it here into a fake site in hopes some search engine sleight of hand in hopes of leading me to it in the hope of deception and/or worse.
So much hope, so little of the right kind of hope....
Yet another fundamentalist mob of murmuring morons.
Hey... whatever floats your blog. ;–)
Oh, and by the way, good to read you again.
> It's been a long while since I wrote here.
Ditto.
How do I know your misdirection theory isn't itself misdirection?
(see also: the utter unreliable uselessness of 99.999999999999% of what people say)
(P.S. including this here rambling waste of your time)
> de-caking the acorn cob (+ wallet talk) > > This sounds like pure gibberish to most everyone
Sorta remotely similar, I drove my 2000 Honda Civic (post a young guy we know reviving it to drive-ability in exchange for a bass guitar, bass amp, and little cash) around in a big way for the first time in ages. Totally glorious. Windows down, hair down and blowing, an occasional cigarette, and the phenomenal “The Smiths” compilation called “Lounder Than Bombs”, which (CD) I'd forgotten I owned, but discovered in the car upon re-possessing it.
Holy shittenheimers, that (the word 'Pioneer') reminds me of talking my parents to purchase a Pioneer SX-636 “receiver” back in the (for those 2.5 readers of mine (heh.. originally typed 'mind'..)) prehistoric 1970s.
> Participation is acceptance.
The Cookies Monster couldn't have said it any better! ;–)
One of many ex-periments of ex-perience of the horribly wrong ass-umption of a free-willed separate self in opposition to an all-the-rest?
I suspect I'm not alone in being in favor of whatever leads to your updates here. Greased delightning, your verbiage.
> The underlying issue is one of self-love.
Underlied by faith in the ex-istence of a self to love it-self.
Methinks a bit of ongoing attention to Wu-Wei Wyrd offerings could go a long way toward dissolving said repeated misconception.
“I” mean, “Preliminary Guidance on Conditioning an Awakening to Zero-Dimensional Awareness...” might alone be sufficient shaking out of the somnambulism of alleged self.
But, as always, the hand drawing itself drawing itself (not a typo) need find its undo key.
a “real” nowhere man
typing in his nowhere land
making all his nowhere posts
for nobodyBut apparently it does take a prophet to see the harm in murmuring second++ hand hearsay to whatever masses are bored enough to be screen addicted.
Strange night, last. A couple step-grandchildren stayed over, despite our having a couple pre-new-career meetings this afternoon. But I understand my wife's need along those lines, and we done a good thing. (heh... “thing”...)
But 'twas a night of dreams at least as seemingly real as the seeming main dream event. Hit the bathroom unsure whether “I” “real”ly had quite the former software position. What it's passwords might be if “I” hadn't. Where “I” was at in the process of taking on the new challenge (teaching middle school math and comp sci).
This typing seems to be occurring at 6:31am in the local timezone, front drapes still drawn lest the mechanism wake the boys, who would likely “rambunct” my wife too early from desperately needed sleep. They're sleeping on couches in the family room a couple rooms from this living room. And I've a tickle in my throat in serious need of a cough (you know: the kind that makes the eye nearest it water). But hold onto it “I” must, or pay the random exuberance consequences.
Part of this morning's disorientation was, no doubt (oh, now I want to hear Gwen sing!), a strong does of seemingly “getting” reading material very much a long the lines of the seeming Wu-Wei Wyrd personage passing through this place of late. And of course it can't be 'splained without risking word hypnosis (if not coma), and this installment is way waaaaaaaaay to much of such as it is.
But whatcha gonna do, boy? Whatcha gonna do?
> But I love to write and I have a lot to say. I just need > to get to it!
Here's the cure: real-ize nobody knows what you mean anyway; they know only what they would mean had they wrote it.
Writing unaccompanied by the delusion that words contain meaning (such that all should/would/could wind up with the same meaning upon reading/hearing/thinking the same words) is a complete and total waste of time.
Unless it's exclusively for you. But even then, the meaning you bring to words will change over time such that what piece “A” once meant becomes something else.
That doesn't mean it can't be fun to see what meanings others bring. But that implies either “linked quoting” or “comments”.
I don't know. For me it's mostly about the typing: something about words magically appearing accompanied by the sensation of finger movement. Not even really sure which is more the cause or the effect. But then it's likely ineffable 'til “mind” hits its feverish discrimination pitch en route to the hypnotic state known in some mental spaces as being other than here and now, lost in conceptuality as though it were more – if not “IT”.
But... but....
(Mmmm, this leftover salad is good!)
I suspect it will fade unto poof with lessening re-petition/re-member-ing.
<later>
Gloriously relaxed day.
<two days later>
All no doubt to the end of haves having even more than have-nots. So, for godssakes, let's please not be so absurdly ridiculous in using the word 'virtuous'. The fact a YouTube video stops playing when I turn off my Android phone's screen to conserve battery power tells me all I need to know about their for-shit “virtue” in innovation.
(Yeah, I know... out of context... but it was just sitting there waiting to be hit out of the park, you know?)
Reasoning with ego to not be egotic might be likened to reasoning with a shark to not devour easy prey.
Heck of an arduous yet fun day, yesterday: music performance in significant heat. And herding cats did the four others seem to me most of the time. The percussionist is a wonderful guy, and can quickly pick up on and add new dimension to pretty much anything. But as Murphy would have it, HE RUSHES. And of course he's supposed to be the one keeping others in time. How in fucking hell can the world seemingly always be so consistently fucked in such ways?
<closes eyes, gently shakes head from side to side against the couch pillow>
He also yaps incessantly. We'll finish a set, and I want to scribble out a few notes, make some board adjustments, etc., and he'll come over and be like “So my sound/playing was pretty good, right?” while grinning in a way that one has to match or he'll take whatever you say as a negative, and so there begins the eventual demise of your facial muscles for having to hold a motherfucking fake smile seemingly endlessly whilst drowning in a sea of prattle. And you try subtle hints you want/need to be alone, but he'll just keep asking that, and sub-questions related to that. “The toms were just right, right?” “And how about what I did with the high hat in such-and-such? That was pretty good, right?”
<screamed within> ST-G-D-FU!!!!!
Ugh.....
And then the keyboardist is a headcase of another mother. Wants to write everything out, while the rest of us are playing from memory of de facto standards of songs that were such hits in their time that there's no way not to know them. Except he's typically “above” popular music (not to mention an old fuck), so he literally has to write out, for examples, Beatles songs, for fuckssakes. I mean, he's a great player. But too great for the material, really. We don't need jazzed up funky chords or bass lines throwing us off for their sounding to us more like he's meandered into a different song altogether. Etc.
Anyway.....
<smiles stupidly> So how's that for some great ego talk there, hey? Pretty good, hey? And did you like the way I added a 'fuckssakes', huh? You like that kind of thing, right? C'mon, keep smiling. And then smile some more. You don't see 'de facto' in a sentence too much, do you? But look at me, I did it. Did you like how I did it? That was pretty good, right?
<winces>