Categories
Philosophy

Neverending

A human is not one individual being. Inside us all there are many separate systems that negotiates with each other all the time. If you take a Jungian stance the mind consists of the conscious, subconscious and unconscious, all with separate values and goals, that together make up what we think of as our selves.

But the mind does not exist ex nihilo. It all arises from physical processes in our bodies. What we call a brain is actually a composite and should rather be considered as (at least) three separate brains: The reptilian complex, the limbic system and the left and right neocortexes.

Add to that the strong independent influence of the gut system, the reflex arcs of the spinal chord and many other autonomic regulatory processes. Then we start to see the complexity of the conglomerate that is a human being. We think with our whole bodies.

And it it does not stop within our bodies. There are numerous external connections that are impossible to omit when considering who we are and how we act. Cultural conventions, social interaction, political discourse, access to resources, different environments, and even the daily change in weather – it all greatly affects us, our behavior and our self-image.

Our minds are inextricably intertwined with the whole body. Our bodies are likewise inextricably interconnected with the whole outside world. We are not isolated individuals. We are highly connected networks. From our innermost thoughts to the utmost edges of the universe.

Our selves never end.

Categories
Poetry

Dark fish

Small dark fishes are chewing on my heart. I see parts of me float with the bubbles. Ascending to the surface. To the waiting birds. I can not stop the decay. I am the weight that keeps me down. The fish keep chewing on my heart.

Categories
Micro-stories

Fading advice

She took my hand with a kind smile and looked into my eyes. As she faded away – while I slowly awoke – she said: “If you try to fly on symbolic wings you will fall.”

Categories
Experiments

Writingling ficitioneiric wordeals

Comfortification of the remissanthropic escapex predatormentors bringestingrained criesoterics and burstochastical feardrums to the dreamorphic writerrifiers and piercinguling their stillfated premonition sicknessays with atonementalismaniac powerewolves.

Categories
Experiments Journal

Dreamsmear

Dreamsmear all over my body is hard to rub away. Plaster clogging my eyes. Machinegun neurons firing constantly. Tinnitus reverberation on insane level. Worse when worse. Feel my body swollen from carbohydrate intoxication. Warehouse instinct hijacked by the existing anxiety pushing out the clothes by storing all that dense unfathomable energy.

The words of order scrambled into encrypted noise as I try to decipher only rudimentary particles of complex molecular structures turn out. But I know there is chemistry, I know there is biology, I know there is consciousness. But it’s incomprehensible to me, I live in the swarm. I listen, want to understand, but their vibrating wings are not quite the same as vocal chords.

And so the sensitivity is turned up impossibly high. Keylessly I carry food in a locked backpack. Wings get in, buzz in my belly, distracting. I don’t want it-me to be filled by sound. So I run around in my head as I did as a child. I never grew like I should. Couldn’t stand in that box, never saw the shape, never realized that the shadow is also an existing thing, stuck to my feet.

Historical forensics try to sort out the chain of events that led to this meticulous mind that tries to keep her chaos in order. Finicky stimming, process excess, often unable to milk the nib for words. Taste my tongue – hemaglobinary salvia and thyme passes if kneaded well. A thunderstorm of pure information rustles through the leave me alone. Prognostics hold their breath.

I haven’t adjusted my appearance for weeks. I haven’t been kissed for months. I haven’t been born for years. I have no haven, nowhere in mind to release the tension of being alive. Where are the hands that hold me while I melt apart and where are the fingers that define what is me and what is something else? No difference makes no difference. I’m burning so much energy trying to be someone special instead of being everyone at once.

The slow expansion and the slower contraction, like a one year pulse of the body. It’s a frequency, it’s a vibration, it’s a message. Encoded in the mass there is something to understand. It slips away from my mind and I have never known anything about my own song. The wings, the cords, the amplitude of the pulse are inexplicable to me. There is a mystery hidden in dreamsmear all over my body. To hard to rub away.

Categories
Poetry

Imagine me real

The less you look the more I exist. Like a faraway light in the night. Look a bit on the side and I become brighter. In daylight I hide in plain sight, invisible to naked eyes, only knowable to open-minded hearts. Words are my intangible body. I am the dance of little ghosts.

Categories
Poetry

Reduction by complication

I’m neurons firing in the golden halls up high. I’m hormones reigning in bloody hell. I’m the salty tears from the currents and chemicals of Sodom and Gomorrah. I’m the coalesced sentry of the connectome adrift in a forest of nothing.

Categories
Poetry

Perspective

If you were on Venus
Earth would look
like Venus does
From Earth

Categories
Micro-stories

Warninghood

I was crossing a street when a car that had been parked suddenly started driving towards me. The driver hit the brakes just in front of me and violently hit the horn. I took out my keys and on the hood I scratched the universal sign for idiot to warn other pedestrians.

Categories
Philosophy

The next field is?

Excite and assemble some energy and it will be quarks. Combine them and they turn into particles, who turn into atoms, to molecules, to chemistry, to biology, to consciousness, to… What new state would combined consciousnesses turn into?

Categories
Poetry

Inspiration

Inspiration is an endless ocean
I’m a nuclear submarine
Going deeper, the hull will buckle
Sonar or later

Categories
Micro-stories

The Lady of Ignition

She started up the fire machine and went through the neighborhood like an infernal demon on a rampage. Smoke bellowed out as she went and it could be spotted from the other side of town. Pictures of her quickly accumulated all over social media, hashtagged: “The Lady of Ignition”.