The above a concept I & C & R agree upon to L's distress
The book reviewed above: doomsters and pantheists like me who think rocks are alive until smashed by mthrfckng humans and who think the world needs kill every single fckng one of us to survive and regenerate versus trans-human meliorists who think their AI-driven post-humanism will restore the natural balance of the world, both agreeing current trajectory equals human extinction
Halfway through book reviewed above, reading prompted by long discussions with the four of us and post-vacation Blessed serendipity, thank you G for lending me your copy and, O, if you are paywalled and want a PDF of the review just let me know
Book an intro so if you're versed in this and want deeper digs go elsewhere, but if like me you've avoided thinking about trans-human meliorists who think their AI-driven post-humanism will save the physical world (because I've enough anxiety and dread as a doomster and pantheist without worrying about AI and our collective borg future) but like me think it's time to learn a little more then I recommend you get it from a friend or a library or a local bookstore
Today in my complicity: I am the popping water bubble in a boiling pot my shitlords want me to be
*I can't find a video of Orcutt/Corsano's "Thirteen Ways of Looking" which means I'm not posting the Stevens poem alluded to in the above link, I've deleted the explanation why at the author's request, I thank me
Photo of the author by his daughter, if I'm on vacation I'm listening to Bejar
FILMING THE DOOMSDAY CLOCK
Mary Jo Bang
We were told that the cloud cover was a blanket
about to settle into the shape of the present
which, if we wanted to imagine it
as a person, would undoubtedly look startled—
as after a verbal berating
or in advance of a light pistol-whipping.
The camera came and went, came and went,
like a masked man trying to light a too-damp fuse.
The crew was acting like a litter of mimics
trying to make a killing.
Anything to fill the vacuum of time.
The wind whirred and tracked the clouds.
The credits, we were told, would take the form
of a semi-scrawl, urban-sprawl, graffiti-style
typography. The soundtrack would include
instrumental versions of "Try a Little Tenderness."
Our handler, who was walking backward
in order to maintain constant eye contact with us,
nearly stumbled over a girl in a sheath and pearls
who was misting a shelf of hothouse flowers.
While the two apologized to each other,
we stood and watched the fine spray settle
over the leaves and drip onto the floor.
On the way out, we passed a door
with a small window reinforced with wired glass
through which we could see a nurse
positioning a patient on a table. We swore
afterward we'd heard her say, "Lie perfectly still
1/i like the photosReplyDelete
2/nonpaywalled nyrb revew of adam kirsch's the revolt against humanity
3/it is not only things, but the self itself, which people are morbidly attached to, i have read
it is in an attempt to ameliorate this my own unwholesome tendency in this regard that i have appended jsps to my list of degrees
kirsch's book references a new york profile of pessimistic philosopher david benatarReplyDelete
the piece’s author, joshua rothman, ends it this way:
“On the street, we shook hands. ‘I’m just going to walk around a bit,’ Benatar said. He planned to wander the West Village before heading to the airport. I walked south and, near the World Trade Center, descended into the Oculus, the vast, sepulchral mall and train station that has replaced the one destroyed in the 9/11 attacks. With its towering, spine-like roof and white-marble ribs, it is part skeleton, part cathedral. Standing on the escalator, I watched as a woman with one arm in her jacket struggled to insert the other. An overweight businessman, his ears plugged with earbuds, brushed past me, jostling me with his briefcase. As he reached the bottom, he held the woman’s coat, and she slipped into it.”
[end of quote from Rothman's New Yorker article]
rothman’s ending reminded me of hillel's
“If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am for myself only, what am I? If not now, when?”
to unpack this event a bit – the businessman who jostles him with his briefcase, with earbuds in his ears – in other words, cut off from communication by sound, and not respectful of rothman’s personal space as he passes him on the escalator – in a hurry, obviously – nevertheless notices his fellow traveler’s difficulty with her coat, and takes a few seconds to help her
rothman’s evocative description of the station – “part skeleton, part cathedral” – reminds us of our mortality, and also of our spiritual aspirations, our yearning for eternity
Sublime foto graffy.ReplyDelete
Writing or uttering "JHVH" was once forbidden. Now "MTHRFCKNG" is. MTHRFCKNG is the greater God.ReplyDelete