inquiry

whatever comes to mind

> “To awaken to our origin prior to ego is the subtle > flavour of zazen.” > > We have feet, but we're not our feet. We have personality > traits, but we're not our personality traits. The > transformation that Zen practice brings isn't a tweaking > of our quirks, an attempt to change — improve! — > our personality. It's no longer identifying with that > personality. We don't have to identify with our own > personality traits any more than we identify with someone > else's.

Boom. Not sure I've ever seen it stated better – inasmuch as it could be stated, of course....

> I slept great last night. Amazing what turning the heater > off before I go to bed does for my sleep. I am definitely > a cold sleeper.

Same for partner and I. How I ever slept clothed in previous incarnations astounds me.

> the rabbit asks, “why are you here?” > > i answer, “i walked through the doors.”

In a sort of lightly twisted nod to my childhood do I feel compelled to add:

The rabbit replied: “What's up, monk?”

> photograph. 5 may 2018

You know... slight hints of the vicinity of my shower drain when thoughts of cleaning begin to seep to mind....

> i think of poetry more often than not. while i stopped at > a corner of a blossom-covered street, i spied two young > sparrows ripping leaves off a small plant. at a downtown > square, a child chased pigeons into traffic where two > were killed by cars. a woman walked down the street > while talking on a cell phone erupted in laughter. i > thought about the woman my grandmother used to be before > alzheimer’s altered her brain. this is all poetry.

'Tis a blessed curse, is what I want to type... but certainly more the former than the latter.

> That is to say this, blogging. It isn’t addictive.

Oh? So then why do my keyboard chicklets feel like used syringe tips while typing this? ;–)

> .::DEFCON 201 Meet Up — February 2020 — Hackers Lonely > Hearts Club::.

Oh, man.. that sounds sooooo cool. So wish I were enough a participant for it to make sense to attend... but, alas, I barely have time for what I'm already doing in life. But the thought of it: oooh, chills!

> I Do Not Belong Here

I keyboardly beg to differ – especially if “here” means “write.as”....

(NOTE: there was no evidence it did.. it's just those words seemed the least metaphoric of the post, and thus most arguable....)

> In the end, the feeling of being stalked has prompted me > to commit to stalker-free social networks like MeWe. While > this is not a solution for everyone, for some like myself > who does not have the expertise to set up a self-hosted > instance of Friendica, Diaspora or Pixelfed, MeWe offered > a good solution. They do not give a crap about my data and > are providing a service to their customers. Me. You. Not > some data-sucking stalker like Mark Zuckerberg.

I'm rather glad I've been able to acclimate to – and accept – a place like this being sufficient for my community and/or blabberistic needs.

> everything in the cosmos is interconnected. our separation > is bridged through compassion and kindness; to others, > ourselves, and the world around us. it travels further > than the pealing of a temple bell.

Fortunately, the separation is an illusion right up there with the snake in the rope, the fire-brand-tip-generated circle of light in the dark, the barren-woman's son, etc., etc.

> building geometries

Ohmygosh, what a beautiful negative space instance!

And I'm very happy that #daishinstephenson led me to letting go 26 march 2018!

> tree and plant shadows on wall

And yet all the same for being shadows on mind's wall....

> the onion giving way to the knife. the sounds take me back > to a place, nearly seven years ago, where i was made eggs > and toast by a man who loves me still and i danced in the > kitchen while waiting.

Beautiful post overall.. but the above was my favorite part... the slightest curling shavings of memories of Fleetwood Mac's “Gypsy” coming loose in this sector of mind, to no doubt blow hither and yon in dance about my feet on the sidewalk of my day....

> 300g blueberries 1 tsp vanilla extract 40g maple or agave > syrup 250g firm tofu 1/3 tsp stevia 1 vegi-gel or agar > powder sachet 2 bananas 60g sunflower spread 20 crushed > biscuits (digestives work best)

For the love of the sound of a turntable needle being dragged across the vinyl of where gathering storms of thoughts were huddled in the sharing of one crumply tired filterless cigarette....

The supposition of a subjective object just slightly more or less than a-fractal-and-a-half-down-(the-recursive-modeling-chain) thinks it types while hearing a train passing a quarter mile away.

In-formed, it – and all the seeming rest.

This seeming activity, too, and everything about its context – as though there were others, places, times, experiences having been writ.

Partner <hides screen> wanders into the living room from the bathroom, talking while tooth-brushing, something verbally blanket-wrapped-important to her that couldn't be less important to me, especially as I type something even less important while dreaming of dreading my having initially considered it important was merely yet another cob pipe dream whose meds still haven't arrived.

And so it <hides screen> seemingly goes on, this

(I could have called it something, but in fact how could I have called it anything while too anxious to hide the screen again as she stood there in her robe in the bedroom doorway.. looking this direction.. (or so I imagined whilst myself too chickenshit to look to be sure).. the pale stench of suspicion diving low into and along the coffee-stained carpet, seeking faux steel tall vertical lamp bases.. she's still shuffling around – now at the very end of this couch seeming beady-eyed fulfillment-starved into the screen of her phone whilst my mind screams she's poorly covertly angling to see what I'm typing, why I'm typing

<later after babysitting a mind having exploded into engaging her in deflective conversation>

So I sip me some <whatever this 80 proofer “is”> (i.e. is named). Tasty. Effective.

I like my peat neat.

> I think its much better to get a basic blog somewhere. I > use Write.As now because it provides this blank slate of > a canvas where I can create.

I like the clean interface too.

But the fact of the matter is I hardly see it, because I compose offline in vim – because vim's where I belong.

Once I'm satisfied with the content, I run a script that appends the latest to another file, and puts the same in a singular file that I can quickly display in the browser (for a subsequent Ctrl-a/Ctrl-c) via Ctrl-o while parked in a blank tab, then pasting the copied into the buffer presented at write.as by virtue of being perpetually logged in.

<mental note to eventually have some milk with those cookies>

Like I think I mentioned before, I'd API it into place, but just can't see paying that much more when a few keystrokes from time to time suffice.

Mostly, I rather like the cast of characters, their regularity, and (although this drove me nuts for a few months before I somehow finally “got it” (i.e. blogging)) their seeming aloofness to others' posts and/or detachment from whether anyone else is reading. It feels like adults going about their textural business.

> I just read “Mike's Thoughts” (a blog I adore) and am > thinking about how often I have moved in my life. About > how I, too, am more or less living out of a 40L backpack > (even though I am “static” and don't move very > often anymore). I am thinking about why I moved so much, > what I did in fact get out of it, and if I will ever be > “SLOWmadic” again.

Having painstakingly listed them all for a dear high school friend less than a month ago, I can type with relative certainty I've endured 22 stays in my life – a couple times returning to the same place (e.g. the parentals) in that count.

> Tired if Instagram. Tired of Facebook. Tired of > Twitter. Tired of Slack. > > Just... Tired.

           "When in ennui... *write*!"
                          - Anon

> I decided I was sick of looking at the RPi and mostly the > enormous monitor perched on my desk that took up 40% of > that desk, so I unplugged the monitor and put it in the > walk-in closet. The Pi remains, because currently it is > the only way to charge the (near-useless) iPhone. This > “dance” with buying new products because old ones > were sold to me not as advertised or just don’t plain > work at all is getting REALLLLY fucking old. Technology > is getting really fucking old. I want to be content with > just HANDwriting offline and be done with it.

Oh, all deities combined, yes....

But then I suddenly remember I have a stack of paper notebooks of various kind – including the royal, spiral bound lineage – in the lowest sector of the Ikea standalone closet next to m place in bed, and I never look in them anyway. And maybe I will someday. But I doubt it.

It turns out now is too important to waste it on then....

> Meds are arriving sometime today.

Heh.. just back from checking the mailbox to see if mine arrived... I guess it'll be tomorrow.

> The coffee is now brewed, is delicious. I try to buy coffee > whole bean these days, but the past few months I haven't > really been “up to it” because there are only a few > types of whole bean coffee that is also organic at Schnucks > (my grocer) and usually they are pricey, so I just go with > organic ground stuff. Boyds Red Wagon Roast from Portland, > OR. is my favorite. Really wish they had that whole bean.

I must have the basic, underlying makeup of a drug addict, because regardless the ingestion domain, I tend to be more about the active ingredient than accompanying aesthetics. I mean, yeah, of course I prefer better tasting to worse, but I don't recall ever losing a single drop of sweat to evaporation over it.

> Walking home half an hour with the remnants of > freezing storm Ciara in my face. Work trip to Bucharest > cancelled for fear of being quarantined there because of > Coronavirus. As you were.

I've still no concrete basis to believe there really is such a place as Bucharest. Sure, I've heard the word all my life. But I've also heard of Oz all my life. So.

But damn, what a great sounding word, full of energy and grit – and something I can't quite put my finger on that has me imagining a few female residents thereof knowing a thing or two about shaving.

> But I go through a lot of coffee. The sooner the better, > I say. Another thing I go through a lot of is tobacco. I > will have to start up my “cellar” pretty soon, and > then I will not be limited to only D&R Vengeur blend leaf > 24/7. I like mixing heavy aromatics with high nicotine > blends and I am going to more or less stick to those two > types of tobaccos when I start my cellar. More/different > blends can always be added later.

And here I thought I was sophisticated because I used to smoke Camel straights... (you know... the so-called “Turkish Blend”™...)

Sipping some red wine from – of all places – Aldis. Good schtuff! Partner grabbed a bottle of it yesterday out of curiosity.

I'm also fresh off a shower, thereafter in a bit of a panic for realizing there was one more thing I needed to install (“WinSCP”) in order for a long-running “integration” to work on a new machine... so I did that with some time to spare.. although I'm pretty sure my nervous system was none the better for the low grade hysteria.

Fucking software development....

Speaking of which, I was happy to see I'm just seven days away from an automatic write.as subscription renewal. My God, what a deal for having gotten in for just $1 a month a year ago. My fun and joy here has far exceeded that.

But, of course, a deal's a deal. ;–)

Plus you never know when you're the type for whom interest can suddenly plunge to negative infinity.

This is an almost ideal moment, by the way.. sitting in the office/man-cave, door open, partner in full view working on something of her own, some sort of pizza in the over, great red wine going down, and post-shower clean as a whistle!

> I'm a 24-year-old introverted, music-obsessed, book-nerdy > girl living in the nor > > I’ve been a long-time reader of blogs and now thought > it was time to try my hand at this thing. My main > ramblings—I mean posts will be about books of the fantasy > variety and songs of the whatever is occupying my mind > that day variety, but expect it to lean in the Christian > direction. I’m the greenest of the green newbies here, > so bear with me while I figure this blogging thing out. My > name is Erin and welcome to Sword and Song.

Welcome, Erin!

And FWIW, I heard it's not easy being green long before you were even born... ;–)

> As a video editor, Christopher composed national > commercials and focused on motion graphics. As a digital > artist he pursued perfection with the voodoo known as > undo. Exploring the analog world of paints, wood, and > paper, he has become fascinated with the magic of the > process. Christopher is now conjuring freely and embracing > the spontaneous results. Through his art Christopher > is investigating his own mental health. Perfection is > unattainable and the pursuit of it results in shame, fear, > and anger. Christopher's work is also developing themes > of recovery and wellness.

Oh, just little matters of taste.

For example, I'd have put a comma after clauses like “As a digital artist”.

I'd maybe try to sound a little less passive, a little more now, so that in place of this:

> Exploring the analog world of paints, wood, and paper, > he has become fascinated with the magic of the process.

I'd go with something more like:

Christopher is fascinated with the magic of the process of exploring the analog world of paints, wood, and paper.

But, honestly, I'm not writing expert. Some things just sound a bit more grab-ya-by-the-nads to me.

> This definitely has me in the mood to have a GOOD > aromatic, though. Like Paladin Black Cherry, or Lane > Very Cherry. Gotta get some aros on the P&C shopping list > soon. As well as some English tobacco. In fact, I might > just build up my cellar in March. Spring is good smoking > weather, of course, and a good time to experiment with > some different blends.

You've got me feeling like quite the 'bacco heathen for settling for satisfaction in Newports when I dabble to do me.... :–)

> so honestly, what is the point?

It's simultaneously whatever you think/believe it is, while staunchly nothing at all....

And now is the blue sky hiding behind the clouds. Or is it the clouds are covering the blue sky? Is it still blue when I can't see it?

See how it's however we see – aka model – it?

In related news, the following has been “doing it” for me, of late:

                      2.21
      I see no differences or separation.
           Even the multitudes appear
          as a single formless desert.
            To what should I cling?
                   
                      2.22
               I am not the body.
             I do not have a body.
         I am Awareness, not a person.
          My thirst for life bound me
             to a seeming of life.
                   
                      2.23
        In the limitless ocean of Myself
             the winds of the mind
      roil the myriad waves of the world.
                   
                      2.24
           But when the wind subsides
             in the limitless ocean
     the ark of personhood is swallowed up,
      along with the universe it carries.
                   
                      2.25
            And how wonderful it is!
       In the limitless ocean of Myself,
                waves of beings
        arise, collide, play for a time,
      then disappear--as is their nature.

> I still wanna write the “next great American novel”, > still want some level of recognition, and as Duane > “Master of Disaster” Peters says: “I still gotta make > my mark”. I don't know if I will get there, though. I > don't waste my time with doubt because if I have the > creative juices TO write a great book, I wouldn't waste my > time with doubting how well it could do. Or the reviews > it would get. Or the feedback I would receive. To simply > DO the thing would be enough.

You kind of are doing it, here – just not in accord with the polished novel archetype.

> The Siekielski brothers’ excellent work was on the > headlines for weeks to come, but — as one could expect > — it changed nothing.

How could it when news is “without”, whereas change can only come from “within”? (Never mind the fact that most news is merely self-righteous variation on the theme of “shit's fucked up” – as if reading/hearing that indefinitely could lead to much beyond deafness of ears....)

I'm vaguely remembering someone tossing about a phrase akin to “be the change” in these parts semi-recently. That sounds closer to what could possibly work, albeit only were it occur at masses scale. But how could that possibly come to pass – especially when most think simply repeating such a phrase in their head is the same as literally be-ing change?

<goes back to looking forward to non-existence>

> Kundabuffer

Holy cowbells! I've not seen that word since the last time I read Gurdjieff's “Beelzebub’s Tales to His Grandson”!

> The problems of poverty, income inequality, climate > change, racism, oppression, misinformation can all be > talking points but the messaging has been loud and clear, > if it doesn't suit our self interest, then it doesn't suit > anything else either.

Bingo, Ringo!

Huh, a certain quietness about the place.

I gauge my time left (to type) by how engaged my partner seems.

And I've probably had just a wee little bit much wine.

But it's my favorite white – as racist as that no doubt sounds to ultra-woke American “progressives”....

<rolls eyes>

I do look forward to pulling the plug on all online activity. I could be writing all this by hand into a paper journal, and it would be “reaching” pretty much the same number of reply-capable people. So, like, what the fuck am I paying for this for? Everyone – like me, I guess <blushes> – is just clamoring to be read. Next to no one reading. I mean, maybe some glancing, maybe some skimming, but nothing rises to the level of acknowledgement. So it may as well be paper in a “bloody book” (which of course was a reference to a line in A Hard Days Night...).

> The phone is necessary for a comfortable life. The speakers > I am getting (cheapest pair of Polk Audio on BestBuy) > are NOT necessary for a comfortable life, but I would > be willing to spring $89 for a set of good headphones, > so what is the difference if it is for speakers that I > can actually use with my tube amp?

Gosh.. I had a friend in the late 1970s who possessed some of the best gear of that time. The words 'Harmon Kardon' come to mind. I think that was the amp. Can't remember what brand of speakers or turn-table.

But he was “on the spectrum” (not words I recall being used in those days), so to speak, and thus relatively gosh-danged finicky.

In fact, his bedroom walls were covered in album covers and what I'm vaguely remember being called “pull outs”. There was some Buddhist-ish book whose title I can't remember we'd pour over, doing what he fondly referred to as “yoga breathing” – which was basically hyperventilating. But, well, you had to do what you could as an adolescent in the late 1970s, gas prices being what they suddenly were after being essentially nothing (by comparison) until it was finally our turn to drive.... <waves/winks at Murphy>

He, um... well, maybe I should respect the dead by not relating any stories. But, oh my, he was a handful for the rest of us in public. We were more into drinking coffee than alcohol at that age, maybe a couple cigarettes, and he'd not smoke, but had a real penchant for throwing lit matches at napkins he'd crumpled into the ash tray. And you never knew when he'd suddenly raise his voice in a way that typically silenced a place....

He was into a lot of music, but I'm recalling above average predilection for The Who.