This time it was time

Aristotle, the last great thinker of antiquity. Perhaps the last great thinker. He proposed, through his cosmological model, that beyond our, corruptible, consistently changing universe resided a an entity that was unchanging. An aether of existential, incorruptible material that made possible the existence of our Universe. It, in it's essence, is the provider of the chaotic material exchange which we perceive and inhabit, by being a stable, unaltered form. In other words, Aristotle is asserting that, in likewise fashion of a substance not being capable of existing in a singular form, the Universe in general, at least that portion in which we perceive, must have another portion that is inherantly it's opposite, giving it function by relationship. As does anything in existence need its counterpart to give it purpose (or in humanity's case, purpose through perception), so does existence itself need nonexistence to perpetuate. He called this being, or more conceptually, outer layer of the cosmic schema, the Unmoved Mover. This is interesting because, not only is this theory distinctly separated from the 'God Theory' -fucking richard dawkins, neo-darwinist pig scoundrel-, but it is also highly anticipatory to the much later discovery of anti-matter particles. So to review, Antiquity was a time of philosophy. This is before Jesus Christ. And before technology, and before true empirical science. Aristotle in fact, was the pioneer of empirical science and therefore, after him there was only a diffusion of great thought. So, in computing all of this we find that science is moving closer and closer to realizing, through the empirical process, that the world is built up around the philosophy that is presented to us through its mysticism.. That all of the components of the Great Conversation are all leading up to one point. Religion, Philosophy, Art, Science, any human pursuit that involves extracting empirical data from perceived reality, you will find, is all extracting the same reality and is therefore, at it's most basic form, only re-describing the same thing in different ways. Go Godzillaas!

So they were out in the middle of this damn field landscape, abbreviated, infinite piece of environment with rolling hills and whatnot. Totally in the middle of the nowhere of a continent on some hunk of rock's mysterious portrayal of a living planet. This concept was vividly apparent to these people as the earth stretched out for miles. They could see the curvature of it all, folding over itself and holding nothing to it's surface. It was the solace of the land, nothing to be held down. Things seemed to be not at the brink of shooting off into space, but more just intent on slicing through gravity to the point of spacial temperament. Contentment achieved by matter with just sitting, as the rock does, in space. Perhaps it was the lack of living creatures in the vicinity or the barely recognizable plant life. Things seemed to not be driven by the forces that we have defined but by other forces undefinable, unregistered, alien. This place was a good reference point for the rest of the planet. Not just the rock though. Everything. The planet itself is alive with mysterious essence. It breathes with a steady flow, a different flow than the countless planets surrounding it. Not just a molten ball of magma, encased in a rock layer. Not just a combination of gasses. Gaia is alive with the interactions of particles, yes the same as any space of the universe, but this particular space is spawning a vastly alternative form of blind, mindless, motioned arrangements. Gaia is alive with the interactions of beings. Not just things. Rocks hitting other things and supernovas decaying with super-plasmic agility are the result of a facet of pre-arranged forces at work. The forces that are existing, determining all creation, always. Gaia has introduced to us here at the High Chamber of Physical Determinacy an alternative set of forces. The forces that act upon a new breed of things. These things, beings, are not alive with the ferociously chaotic combustion of heat, they feed from it. They are not alive with the constant orbital pattern held together by a gravitation force, but they live from it. The bodies, suits, vessels, trunks, whatever, are indeed working and maintaining their proportional need in the universe of the traditional natural forces, but are also a direct connection to another realm. They are fulfilling their alchemic quotas but there is something existing that is not matter or energy. Perhaps it uses these a-priori prototypes for their own means, just as the planet Earth has been used to support Gaia. It was all visualized in this land that Max, Panther, Sybil and Freed, had found themselves in. For some reason one could not escape the unity of knowledge and understanding, realization and belief. This was the land of the forgotten, yet it supplied the main thrusters for the craft of human development and strict mental evolution.
At speeds beyond sixty five miles per hour, the air felt smooth and generously delivered. As the Pacific Ocean would have felt to Magellan after vigorously maneuvering through the tiny, ferocious spot below South America. Each member was drifting, lost. The confusion had somehow been overshadowed. The intangibility of it all had been deafened by the rational concept that Max would not tell them what was realy going on. He had revealed information to them gradually and at specific points. His words were very well crafted and thoroughly considered in order to obtain the reality that he wanted. He had to make sure that these people were in exactly the right place in their minds. In some ways, he had managed to make them believe that they just didn't actually need to know. And that it as all ju!!!!g whether they understand it or not. Whether they would understand it or not.
They were lost in the form that was necessary. They were lost in their heads, each one possessing full capabilities for structural temperament. For some reason a chamber, or prison had been opened, was opening. Around them were phantoms of the innocent, locked away for eternity. Left to the infinite decay, going insane in the process and here they remained. Max picked them up, captured those magnificent tones, heard the tones of the forgotten. It was this force that was driving him on. The music cursed him, yet he remained engorged by the complex rhythms. He strove to obtain them for his own. He strove to produce them, but they were unearthly. The swiftest of deliveries, the most precise stigmata of jungle force constantly enveloping his brain, pushing him harder into the earth. This celestial music, fueled and enchanted by the divinity of the cosmos-projected through the human filter, seemed to grow as Max grew. It blossomed with each stage of his life and continually left him at least one step behind. Never could he fully capture it or comprehend it. But he certainly gave up on forgetting about it and thinking that it wasn't real. That would be destined to be a quick phase in his life anyway, a fruitless act of convincing himself, but Max knew, he knew what it was and 'coming to grips' with it, accepting it would take his entire life. He had no choice, he was spiritually empowered and required to take this path. The Hero's journey. It was overwhelming, and the sooner he gave himself to the flow, the better off he would be.
Something had led him to this place, this barren nothingness. It seemed incapable of accommodating life, it seemed lifeless. It seemed dead. But something could be felt that was unearthly. Not the kind of place that was simply composed of the elements. The elements in this place had been shifted, altered, manipulated. They could all feel that. This land was in possession of an essence that proved to be evil. The visionary landscape that was unfolding revealed that marvelously. The sky, although dark, was tinted a singing maroon now and seemed to have passed through a vast variety of colors since Sol had moved on. As if the true nature of the sky was illuminated when the sun lay to rest. As if the sun itself, the giver of life and sight, was blinding the eye to the reality of the cosmos. Light, at this point was permitting a bombastic illusion. Deceiving us. The sky rose from the vast land as if it were on fire. Boiling and regurgitating itself. The strange clouds enfolding at rapid speeds created a strict dialogue for the atmosphere. It told countless a yarn.
The enormous flame illuminated the immediate landscape surrounding them, and provided a sort of protection. Max had learned about the few who inhabited, or remained above, the ground. He had learned, from which type of information transfer is unnecessary information; about their attitudes and militia instinct. They were programmed to take things out. Remove them from the land. They were barely human and lived in the endless fields of nothingness until they died and sank into the soil, left to decompose. As everything did here when remaining in one position for too long. These beings, ingrained with a fine code, were fulfilling their destiny. They paid homage to the organism, programmed by the tentacles of a forgotten security protocol. They shot only at night, with high powered sniper rifles in possession of an ungodly range. They were the perfect military machines, they operated their weapons flawlessly and never missed their target. They were linked into a membrane of circuitry that enabled a sole purpose and a sole duty, a sole function. There was an aspect of this membrane however that enabled a maneuvering through it. An avoidance of it was possible. Traditionally this form of 'life' would shoot everything that traveled the twisted highways. They linked into the thoughts of the travelers, sensed their agendas. Their attempts and motives. And based on a protocol system on the complex web of information in the membrane, a shot was fired in a specific direction or not at all. These beings were cosmically intertwined in with the environment, and this allowed for no mistakes. No faults. The only thing guaranteed was that this android life, life that has been discarded, warped and is now a simple vessel for a higher power would hit it's target. Anyways, this flame, this signal, beacon deal acted as a superb defense strategy. For some reason, Max's flame, now a silver, iridescent color, created a cozy radius of safety for the passengers within it. The jeep was custom built, specifically for this land.

The General

Several thousand miles away and weeks earlier, sinking deeply in his office chair, General Arthur Sillivin sat dabbling in the flurry of paperwork that lay on his desk. It was not actually the paperwork that was of interest to him, that was procured by the officers below him and meant practically nothing in this situation. The endless stacks of articles and documents proved as measly evidence for the case at hand in comparison to the little book in The General's hands. He was not relaxed and was managing a definite hatred of his current posture, but was held there by something. He wrote relatively calmly in the book, bound with rusty streamers laced through a thick binding, with a ball-point pen. His hand flew over the page effortlessly, reacting to the pen as if it were not there, making a strict comparison to his face which was relentless with frustration and annoyance. He made elaborate gestures now, as his thoughts became more abundant and intense. Neuronic passage ways opening up and enabling his brain to saturate itself with information. Valuable information worthy of being physically rellayed.
The writing on the page was that of a skilled calligrapher, an enchanting manuscript of artistic reference. The pages before it flowed with the same beautiful delivery. Each letter appearing identical to itself in the different contexts in which it was used but remaining skillfully entangled in the letters preceding it and following it. Skillful at the level of excellence while maintaining the human impurity that makes it beautiful. This manuscript was but the notebook of Dweezle McCoy and it was this artifact that occupied the general's mind and had been for the last six days. Eating away at him with confusion and a severe sense of being lost. After he took his hand away from the page, (or should I say that the hand sort of took itself away from the page) he shook his head furiously along with his pulsating appendage. he felt as though he was thrust abruptly out of a dream . The pain cursed through him and it was mostly an personal elaboration due to the fact that he had felt nothing for a good six minutes, starting after about two minutes into the task. This was one of the things that proved so frustrating to The General. The time lapse as well. He came out of the whole ordeal with a vague and fragmented conception of his surroundings and a hard to grasp memory of what had just happened. He had done this four times before and he remembered the writing via the muscle spasm, burning physical pain, and the intangible frustration of being stuck, with no solution - something that The General was predisposed to identifying and fearing due to his military training and innate problem solving tactics. These effects bothered him and his analytical mind was only able to categorize and inductively infer the concept of The Artifact because that was his mission. Perhaps a mind without the control and efficient functioning statistics that The General was in possession of would simple disregard the whole ordeal, if one was put through the 'ringer' so to speak. But The General was able to pick up on the hyptnotic effects and they presented themselves to him as a vague misunderstanding instead of a planted memory. As if something was sure not the fuck right. But we are way to far ahead of ourselves, all we are interested in is what The General is agonizing over, what is making him furious. Not even the bizarre mental state that he found himself in after picking up the notebook and writing in it compared to the one thing that The General felt like pressing the Armageddon button over. The text that came out of his hand, leaving him with no cognitive connection that it was indeed he who wrote it. This mysterious text was in LATIN. As you can see this upset The General considerably and put him in a bit of an edgy mood.

Dweezle

Dweezle sat on the park bench at Baker Square, across from Filini's. His thoughts had been racing all day and he was in field mode. He was Hyped up, retrieving data from the Stream. What surrounded him, the sounds mostly, resembled something in minor, something deep into it with five flats or something. Certainly not seven for that would be closer to something more familiar. And easier to distinguish, easier to play. Like 5/4 time, its easy to get a hold of once you get into it, but 13/8 is sequentially open to fault, mistake. Its deeper into the whole scheme of it. Dweezle ushered his mind through this realization and switched on his shades. Lighting a cigarette he pulled out a manuscript notebook and began scribing into it, ledger lines enabled. At first it was patient, cautious. He delicately placed his pen down and drew a staff, running his hand above the paper, imagining, feeling out the notebook as a whole, recognizing the full potential of the emptiness that lay before him. He focused his mind on the outer source. Building a channel from the infinite cosmos into the specificity of the world that lay before him, a world that passed through him, as did this channel, this stream of information. It used him as the Conductor, flowing from everything through Dweezle McCoy into nothingness. A blank manuscript behind the curtains of the Euclidean realm. Everything began to quietly phase out of existance. Being reduced to nothing but a simple hum, eventually dissapating. The Conductor set the stage, quieted the audience. The world was now empty, the people, the sounds it was all patriotic towards the darkness. Dweezle emerged in this darkness unable to use his eyes and quite invisible, as it all had come to be. He had endangered his life by coming here but he knew this place well. It was where he thrived, were he existed, his chamber of creation. He had no fear. Fear could not be processed within him. It had been disabled. As for the other people, buildings, streets, trees, garbage cans, lights, elevators, monitors, the sunset, parking meters, it was all stuck in it's own blind vision of time, unable to reroute, trapped within its velocity. At the mercy of the fear of what they are not. Dweezle had become the messenger for all things, embracing them all as what they are, abandoning the human paradigm that laces our perspective, coating it with limitation. Dweezle could remain here, in the completion of time, for eternity, but as soon as he had placed his mind into this dark realm, this vast amount of emptiness, this blank page, the majestic conduction began. At first nothing. Then suddenly, a twinkle. Something very small that is portrayed as being in the distance. Slowly shapes will form . At first they are flashes, glimpses of something familiar. The sound is that which is important, each flash accopmpanies a tone, echoing off of one another, spastically placed at varying distances. This continued with patient timing, Dweezle lowers the wand. The tones, now having established some presence within this world, begin to magnificently compliment one another. At first it is a simple, single toned progression, the shapes attached still resembling something not quite distinguishable, not quite real. Long curves and billows of light circulate around, reflecting and iridescent. Shimmering and forming new shapes, creating a steady flow of light, constantly morphing and turning into itself. Again and again, each moment one of inertia, and yet each moment the Conductor would force it all out of it's equilibrium, probing, massaging. Dweezle again lowered the wand and let his creation be. It pulsated for an instant before he continued.
At this point there will not yet be human specific objects. In other words nothing recognizable will be happening. The world is a place of specific, delicately balanced material that happens to occupy a space in our cerebral allowance. We accept things as either real, or not real. We either fear them, or we do not; accept or refute. The ironic factor at play in this whole game is that for everything we know, there is the true meaning of it that we do not and will not understand; or be able to rationalize in a tangible way. It is only in the final phases of this tonal process that human reality is formed. Only in the top layer, the thin, outer crust of it all, are we allowed any perspective. Dweezle is building this reality that we know from everything it ever was and is. It is all here, as a scene in a movie, a musical score. The infinite moment, spread out, making distance it's bitch, a zero mechanism at the mercy of the moment. It was all being reproduced from the nothing that lay behind it.

He creates light.
He forms matter.
He identifies shape
distinguishing form.
He builds perspective and in the end
He creates himself.

The Qualitative Dependance

Grainy fractions of delinquent observation is the compelling force behind human function. Breaking the delivery of stimulus down into conceivable parts. Parts influencing a whole. Influencing a whole. Not being the whole, of course because the whole is untouchable. We only see the parts. And the alignment of this collection of parts is completely subject to personal experience. Personal observation of the parts. The whole is an image projected onto the curtain. An imaginary and logical organization of the parts a person has seen.

It was Freed, Max and Panther in the car. Well it was a jeep, an uncovered jeep 4X4 deal and wheels with oversized traction. There was a girl too but she was asleep. Her name was Sybil. There was an intense collective heart beat and mutual alarm. The car seemed to be driving itself as two thousands miles of foreign, twisted territory surrounded them in every direction. The men were alert and planning. The dog was alert as well. His eyes were focused and his body was steady as he stood upright beside Max, thoroughly engaged in this epic journey with his comrade. There was an unspoken realm of understanding between Max and Freed, and Max felt relieved to have achieved this. As he always did when people challenged him. When people forced their world onto him, or at least had pieces to bring to the table. This is where his relationships began. The melding of two worlds, flowing and flickering in sincopation. Despite the vigilant attitude that this situation demanded, Max was keeping his mind jointly occupied, fiddling with a sweet viola sonata. (Zing!) The territory around them was subterranean. The atmosphere seemed congested and heavy and the weird looking plants seemed to be pulled by an ocean of water above them. Sometimes a hole in the ground would be seen in the distance with smoke billowing out of it. Max knew it was free laboratory space. Forgotten, uncharted and unwatched by any form of government. The hills that occupied the two thousand miles of radial land were just the same. Unwatched, forgotten and free. It was because of the quality of the land. It had before been a marsh, but ended up being covered with a sulfate compound, allowing a land fill to be built on top of the ground. However the documents and information concerning the land fill mysteriously vanished. And since the instigation of the land fill in the first place was a result of protocol, no one even noticed. It was the Indian drug lords or the people factory chairmen. Doesn't matter who stole the information, they were all occupying the land now, or were. Various accounts had been raised concerning the matter, but further investigatin of the land proved it to be untilable. The solfate compounds covering the swamp gave enough room for the water to breath and gradually produced enourmous bubbles of air to signify hills. There was nothing underneath the outer layer, and when you tunneled through, it was the biggest, brightest, most beautiful room that will ever be seen. Space, hidden quietly from the world by way of subterranean expansion. Some of these basements would be over four thousand cubic feet. And the ground was a dessert. An enormous collection of dust, debris from the surrounding plains of real earth. With random rickety organizations of wood planks and shingles scattered about and the plants that this weird fertilizer produced. Stagnoids.
Whatever, none of this stuff even matters. All that needs to be known is that Max knows a little about this land and what is underneath. He knew of it by feeling more than by sight. He did see visions of a strange realm. But nothing tangible came of them. It was just more deciphering forced upon him. He felt compelled and drawn, he was being led to this land by a mysterious rhythm. And some how he knew of this place's history, it's essence. He knew where to go. Max's reasons for this journey were remaining undisclosed to the other passengers. His reasons in fact would only confuse them more. He knows about the evil scientists in the secret laboratories concocting mythological adaptations of DMT that send you into the depths of a reality that exists within your mind, but are portrayed as a vast awakening to the spirit and to the universe. Sometimes there is not even any interaction or movement. Just pure and driven thought, supremely balanced by the subconscious. He knows of this and of the alternative purposes something like it can contain. He also knew of the stagnoids and the various types of chemical breeding that took place. Was that really pure tryptamine dripping from the pores of that plant? Max knew these things because he had been there at some time that he could not seem to remember. And now here he was again. Of the four people, Max was certainly the most genuinely alert. The others had barely heard stories and were only on their toes because they were told they had to be. Not because they had seen or knew what would happen if they weren't. There were three things that one had to be on the look out for. One was unusually large clouds. One was a jeep or series of jeeps or caravan or any motorized vehicle at all whatsoever. The other was delusions. The air around these parts was anything but healthy. The molecules shifting about were struggling to keep authority over the atmosphere. They were competing with a subatomic enemy and spreading their confusion through the brain waves of human beings. Breaking down barriers to the subconscious, enabling visual realization of your deepest truths. For some this is an incredible vision into the possible manipulation of innate desires. For others it is frightening. Some say it creates a lucid cloud as the structure for your essence. A tangled web of memories and hallucinations for you to presently experience. As if you had been thrust into the existence of a rock.
They were stopped now, nothing could be seen for miles. The sky had become molten and singed the retinas with a piercing lavender essence. Freed was crouched by the lining of weeds that seperated the fields from the condemned road way. He was looking away from the uncovered jeep. Behind him, Max had taken to igniting a spare torch. He was waving it around, building it's tolerant flame and sort of dancing with it. Sybil was awake now and didn't plan on sleeping again for six hours and twenty minutes. She was watching Max and indirectly wondering what he was doing. She watched him gracefully wander over to the jeep and dip the end of the torch into a large cylinder with elaborate tubing that flowed through it into the engine. A thundering pound came from the jeep and it started up. It kept rumbling and instantly, as if it had always been there, a huge flame shot out of the cylinder, powerful and stagnant. Sybil was amazed and looked over to see Freed on his back, eyes like a child. She noticed now that it was getting dark.

Arius Infinitus

I have a time machine. Max was an accountant or something. Maybe a farmer or even a politician. But I can’t say anything in support of him ever being a criminally mal-adjusted sadistic, serial rapist, with deliberate episodes of schizotypal mania and chronic psychopathic tendencies. A complete masochist? Completely dangerous to the order of natural life itself? No, he obviously handled it well. Either that or this was all just a severe mis-diagnosis, which seems slightly improbable considering the firmness they applied to the decision. The decision to put him away. Perhaps his record was a little bit saturated. Sure. But whose isn’t? Who can honestly say one person had more homicidal tendencies than another? I certainly can’t. Too many times have I juggled the option of roasting some motherfucker’s severed head over a fire and eating cereal out of his skull. Or laying complete and utter waste to the people of the establishment that I was somehow forced to find myself in. That’s why I never carry weapons. I can’t trust myself. Know why? It’s because I like myself too much. I always agree with what I say because I’m thinking it, so it must be fucking true. Fucking true. Consciousness, my consciousness, the consciousness, lies on the same plane as everything else in nature. Trees, magnets and human advancement and everything that ever happens ever…is all natural and cannot be changed. Fate is not an illusion. It is planned out. The future is a thing of design. Unless you are thinking, then time is more merciful towards you, you have decisions. You could, for example run over to your neighbors house, cut the electricity, slice the throat of the husband who is now running down the stairs because of all the noise of you throwing a boulder threw their living room window, stomp up the stairs, drag the child into the mother's room where she is screaming and frantically flailing herself at you, throw the child into the corner, grab the wife and rape her, then bash her skull in with the lamp, light the drapes on fire, grab the kid and leap out the window to raise her in the wilderness with monkeys. You could do all these things, free will right?, and also we have the capability for precise execution of a systematically processed behavioral decision network, but human logistics aside, these behaviors now produce a different future than the one of you sitting in your room, sleeping and going to work the next morning. Or the one of the asteroids hitting another hunk of rock somewhere in the andromeda galaxy causing that rock to spin off of its axis, eventually colliding with another rock, et cetera, whatever. And therefore you design it. You the human. It and the future of whomever you encounter. Perhaps even the future of all of everything. This breaks nature in half. It seperates it from its design and puts it in the hands of each person alive. A new design emerges. This is called power. It is a natural human struggle to own precedence over other humans. For when this is accomplished, one can alter more things, manipulate more of the design's network. Money is the new force of nature, but this is a delicate planet. Things that are said not to be natural are in fact what ultimately eliminates the need for the word “nature” at all. Destruction is equal to creation because nothing can do either. Life, on the other hand, is different. With life, you can destroy the form of someone’s soul. Of course, the soul can also only be manipulated into different forms. But murder destroys life. All life. Not just humans. What I mean by the soul is the time a person spends living. Unlike things non-life in nature, life has a beginning and an end. That’s probably also why I would never kill someone. Its more than just a simple respect for life, it’s like I don’t want to give myself power that I’m not given first, and there is never enough authority to constitute or permit the destruction of a person’s soul. Plus, souls as we are defining them for our cause, are the energy for existence. The backbone, the 5th element behind why everything does what it does. The lobbyists for the map of reality if you will. You see, there is no God but only perfect equilibrium between white and black, with all the colors ever to exist perfectly balanced between them. The quality of balancing, the product of the the two opposing forces is Aristotle's Unmoved Mover. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. For this is not about me or God, it is about Max. Max. Max. Max. Max. Max.
Something had happened to the stereo that evening. With all the expenses and rations coming and going, one would actually expect something like this to be fixed on the fly, or at least without anybody noticing it or getting upset about it. Especially because of the importance that that device played in the lives of the people who lived in this place With all the people coming and going, somebody was bound to have fixed it at some point. At least, one would think that somebody would notice at least. The stereo would be broken for six months. People would adjust the volume, or the contrast on the television in an attempt to play some goddamn music. But slowly the music faded and whether or not it was because people forgot or because they were too 'busy' is a question of attitude. Certainly however, it was not because they were uninterested to begin with. Certainly not that. Some would claim they are still interested. But claims are attitude too. What they would be busy with is question of behavior. Behavior and attitude have traditionally been interwoven. However, circumstances might arise to allow for a complete severing of the link between them. In a materialist adaption of the financial schema of American society, I would say that their time was completely wasted. Any justification otherwise will be ultimately subject to rhetoric Armageddon. But in some twisted realm of incongruence with truth not through science but through fantastic visions, time is of some untouched category of dimension and one cannot operate meaningfully within a system if one does not know the system. So, accordingly, if time is of the most bewildering of phenomena, how can one exist within it? Fuck, and reality? Being a human relies on living behind a lucid curtain with existence on the other end, bribing us to touch it. Some seek for the answer to soon. Some wait until they die, falsely convinced of their psychological disorders. But either way, time is a continuum in every direction and subject to multiple conceptions. This is the truth, how trite it may be.
The psychology of a human is twisted. It flows through billions of intersections, checkpoints and through cerebral occupational specialization it attempts a distinct frequency. A frequency that illustrates a malleable picture of reality within the brain: an infinite canvass. The human brain is a perfect example of the amount of potential that can be stored in a containing space. It's size to body size is greater than any animal. But it is only this large because of the structure. The great amount of space that gives the energy a pathway. But this energy, the frequency of human consciousness, can be forever compressed. Throughout contingent research, Max imagined this frequency explaining the birth of the universe or something. He believed it, rather. That it had the potential. This would be one of many quests to invade the catacombs of his mind.

this is the path of the righteous
climb the tower
enable the power
pave the way
hours disintegrate into days

feel the pulse
it crys as the penguins die
remember the stifle
reduce the Eiffel

singing makes me dead
it plays out the match in my head
remember to go to bed
or let the tumors build
they filled,
remember what they said

Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy
Dimensional Calligraphy

Paradigm Prognosis

The premise of Roger French's argument is that "from the Middle Ages onwards, physicians built up their trade into an elaborate professional structure, endowed it with an even more elaborate theory, and contrived to present it with great authority." What this means is that during the Middle Ages, the people practicing medicine developed an elite status of influence that was built on their capability to rationalize and create an overwhelming framework of theoretical knowledge. Rather than being able to directly prove and demonstrate accurate empirical data, the doctors made the patients rely mostly on the fact that they hadn't read and made commentaries on Galen. French presents his argument through a very dense catalog of influential individuals and a history of the scholars and teachers that represent the medical opinions of the Middle Ages. His argument is structured around The Good Story, which represents the degree of persuasion a 'medical doctor' of the medieval times was capable of. The term 'medical doctor' differs exrodinarily from the way it is conceptualized today. Without modern technology, medieval practitioners were trapped in a purgatory of science, both limiting and false in it's application. They were completely reliant on ancient texts of philosophy- Hippocrates, Plato, Aristotle, for their paradigm which in turn became structured heavily on theory. It seemed to be more medical philosophy than medical practice, and it existed at a time when most of the philosophizing had already been done. All these things said, it is appropriate for French to criticize their viewpoint. However, I cannot take his argument as more than an informing historical account. Because of what we have learned in Christian Roots, I have obtained a fair understanding of the time period and am aware of the situation of science and the way it was changing during the Middle Ages. This is why I want to structure my own argument around the nature of the Scientific Paradigm Shift, how it applies to the Middle Ages and some of the reasons for its resistance to detour during these times.
The doctors of the middle ages were somewhat pathetic in their knowledge of reality, which is to be expected by a framework of theory as opposed to one of empiricism. On the scholastic road, too much theory and dialectic discourse can lead you astray from the truths of the actual world, one thing that I feel has been slightly ignored during the Medieval era. Medical theory is appropriate because it uses logic to rationalize a person's physical well being based on the complex understanding the doctor is in possession of - a technique that proved successful at the time. However, when dealing with anatomy, the physicians after Galen were extraordinarily hesitant to perform human dissections, which would have answered a lot of questions but also perhaps it would have conflicted with the accepted curriculum. When they did happen to do human dissections, it was an extremely monitored and specialized occasion for the sake of learning what Galen had stated about the anatomy. Also this hesitation and uncritical attitude would take knowledge away from observable data and into the massive theoretical network set before them by the ancients. It was not until Vesalius, who became one of the most successful physicians of the time, did anyone question Galen as supreme overlord of medical faculties. Vesalius propositioned that perhaps Galen, although being the founder of modern medical practices, was not as accurate an anatomist as he claimed or was seen as. To me, this (along with the works of Copernicus) is the beginning of a paradigm shift marking the Renaissance, and ultimately leading to our concept of medicine today. What drives modern medicine is not so much a network of theories but delicate instruments that enable us to have a strong and reliable source of information. In other words, we can now see exactly what is happening within the body and prescribe a medicine that we know will have a desired effect. Scholars such as the rumored Herophilus and Erasistratus and later with Vesalius, realized our need to understand what was going on inside of the body, not just the obvious, physically observable ailments or what Galen had said about it. And this means dissection baby, not of beasts, but of human beings.
The Empiricists would seem to have a more accurate alternative to medical theory but they were also lacking instrumentation. In the Hippocratic Oath, it is says, "I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work." Considering that Hippocrates was an undisputed authority on medicine and that defiling a human body raises a multitude of religious and superstitious conflicts, this would lead the Empiricists farther away from what would eventually dignify them as holding the leading attitude of science. Since Rationalists such as Galen had paved the way for a medical lifestyle that relied heavily on being able to logically maneuver your way into the medical elite using massive intellect, deception and trickery even, the Empiricists were left in the dust not being able to move past what they immediately observed. Also the road that had been paved by Galen, became such a road that was impossible detour from. People just continued their commentaries on other people's work and promoted a hazardous paradigm.
The works of Hippocrates built barricades around the road on which the history of medicine continued. Before the Hippocratic Oath, there was no stability within the medical community. Anybody could run around posing a a doctor and administering remedies for ailments. In a lot of ways, the post-Hippocratic community did not change save the demand for scholarly knowledge. People were still running around posing as doctors, but Hippocrates and Galen made it so that in order to do so you had to be a selective member. This would later be structured and even more isolated with the introduction of the University and medical degrees. Now the demand for scholastic authority increased. Hippocrates changed the entire perspective of medical science by publicly acknowledging his doctrine as the only medical truth to trust. This led to the future monopolization of the medical community. Medical Theorists were becoming successful, which inspired people to pursue it. The successful would either practice or teach and what they taught was how to practice and how to practice involved mastery of previous works of Galen which were often accompanied by the standing theory. Coupled with this philosophical insight would be the 'tricks of the trade', better ways of telling The Good Story. In order to become successful at an art that had no direct proof, one had to convince the public that what they were saying was true. Perhaps it was not their fault, however. Considering the fact that most doctors felt an obligation to the poor as well as the rich persuades me to view these doctors as having good intentions. But, obviously they couldn't have been completely altruistic, since when they practiced on the poor for free, it gave them a boost in their reputation which was everything.
The doctors of the medieval times were missing some key ingredients to the medical soup which would add to their need for theory. Among many others was knowledge of bacteria. Without this, there was no sanitation. If the Plague was not evidence enough of there misled medical discourse than nothing would be. Two things needed two happen to awaken the medical scholars and bring light to the Dark Ages. One of them is a direct attack on their profession, which indeed happened, killing one-third of their population. The other is a new idea. The medical paradigm was stuck in a rut more or less, biding their time in the waiting room for the microscope to be invented.
In Christian Roots, we have joined the wait and we have all just been convinced of The Good Story. As the scholars of the medieval times had structured their evidence and framework of practice around ancient philosophers and used their methods of discourse (such as logic), so too had we been brought along this historical trail. We have been sucked into the time period and learned to accept certain medical remedies and astrological inferences as having value despite our empirical knowledge. This mirrors the attitude the medical community had during the medieval times.
What we have seen from all this brings me to one conclusion: Things must reach a point of crises or turmoil before they can change or become different. This is apparent within the Medieval medical community. The elite medical doctors had found a niche within the European society. They were financially and intellectual stable where they were. French extracts an opinion that contradicts our acceptance of these doctrines and, although fairly cryptic, provides us with an insightful historical perspective. Personally I think French approaches this subject with a theory of his own, encrypts it on purpose, and rationalizes it with dense logic and handpicked history. This method of analysis is suspiciously similar to the Rationalist method he is arguing against. This seems to be a satirical attack on the Rationalists by sort of beating them at their own game, which ultimately, it seems, is the only game. Despite our current empirical abilities, the majority of Science is and always will be theoretically based. As our instruments become increasingly more delicate, more worlds are opened up, deeper levels that require deeper theories. It is ironic that French criticizes the medical theories of the Medieval times, because in a sense he is criticizing the nature of the paradigm, however it is a good target because of the extremity of time it took to disband ancient methods for more contemporary ones.

"Ora et Labora"

The idea of cultivating the ground has been a part of Christian doctrine since it's origins. When Adam and Eve are still in the garden of Eden, God says to Adam, " I give you all plants that bear seed everywhere on Earth, and every tree bearing fruit which yields seed." (Gen) This builds a spiritual relationship between humanity and the land on which he dwells. This land that, because of God's word, is established as a divine gift can now be treated as a channel to the heavens. It can be realized in it's natural form. It is blessed. After being expelled from the paradise that was Eden, God said, "Accursed shall be the ground on your account. With labour you shall win your food from it all the days of your life." This inserts another characteristic into the relationship of man and earth. Only through labour and struggle, will one be able to perceive and fully extract the beautiful essence of creation. Without work, the land remains barren and lifeless. Without prayer, life in general encounters the same result. Therefore these two things were capitalized on within the developing Christian monastic community. They became the cornerstones of monastic life. It was work and prayer that enabled the Christian monks to sanctify their relationship with God, because we are no longer in His realm. Beauty and heavenly peace are not at our immediate disposal as was the case in Eden. Salvation does not await those who lack devotion. The same goes for the earth, it must be cared for, nurtured, caressed and loved before it relinquishes its magnificent potential.
This concept was what drove people like At. Antony to develop monastic lifestyles involving prayer and work. Although St. Antony and the others around his time were mostly alone, living their own secluded lives, they set the foundation for what was to be an overwhelmingly popular form of spiritual discourse.
The monastic idea spread heavily into Europe where an Italian nobleman named Benedict abandoned his Roman studies for a monastic lifestyle. It was the contributions of St. Benedict that really paved the way for future monastic gardens. He developed the Rule of Benedict, which came to be the precepts under which all Christian monasticism was governed. It was under this Rule that Christian monasteries were really given a chance grow and along with them, the gardens as well.
Taking into account that Christian rule had spread considerately through the developing Western culture by the Medieval times, it is no surprise that the development of garden design in it's popular form was coupled so strongly with increasing monastic popularity. Gardens became a place of spiritual reflection, artistically organized so that the observer feels a sense of comfort and peace. Interwoven within the essence of the garden is also the time and devotion that has been dedicated to constructing the garden, perfecting it. The observer gets a since of wholeness, allowing them to receive God's words and decipher them. The garden is an escape from the false mechanics of society and the evils it brings, giving the individual a chance to focus on interpreting scripture in both a meaningful and spiritual way and even, philosophically. Because of this, as Benedictine monasteries became entire complexes, serving a vast amount of purposes along with the needs of the community, they began to incorporate ancient Roman and especially Greek statues and artifacts into their gardens. Other influences from the Greco-Roman culture like fountains and geometric design, allowed the monasteries to return to the roots of Christianity and embellish the method of spiritual cleansing that cultures the world over had integrated successfully into their paradigm. From the practices of Eastern cultures to the more direct influences of western thought such as the gardens where socrates was allowed to contemplate and use the full potential of his mind, Medieval gardens were governed by the same underlying principle. Geometric design for example, perfect circles inside of squares inside of circles perhaps, or even the artistic placement of statues, fountains, and relics all placed in symmetrical designs, aspiring to both human creativity and the symmetrical geometry that occurs in nature.
As western culture expanded, gardens evolved from being a private reserve for individual monks to massive vistas of political and religious power. Gardens became a tool for displaying a person's social status. Architects were brought in to artistically perfect the visual essence meant to impress those who are doing the observing. These 'power gardens' evolved from 'princely gardens' that were established to open the gardens up to a wider audience, intending their attention to be directed to their 'princely' creators. These gardens would become so complex in their layout that flowers were often forgotten altogether. This attitude is seemingly distant from the spiritual demonstration of St. Antony devoting his body to the earth and his mind to the heavens.
The Renaissance garden at this point has become a tool for climbing the human hierarchy. In other words it has become corrupt with human fault as does anything when presented to the public. Opinions and the control and money that is manifest within those opinions has become the primary motive for constructing these gardens of the Renaissance. In a way they have become saturated with the things they tried to escape. The corporate struggle of society was now fully present within the Renaissance garden, taking away some of the purest aspects of what the earlier monastic gardens represents.
To this day, the actual act of gardening holds, in it's essence, the concept of being crafted in God's image. This establishes the role of the keeper of God's creation. Humans are destined to become God's. To plant the seeds of life, allowing the natural forces to play out.

Aristotle made revolutionary steps in practically every discipline that he pursued, but perhaps one of his most recognized and relevant accomplishments was his documentation and categorization of The Animal Kingdom or, as I personally prefer to call it, TAK. The scientific community is vastly Aristotelean in its general pursuit. In a lot of ways, we as a species, are predisposed to this categorization of the world, especially as represented by Aristotle's work on animals. The dialectic influence he received from Plato gave him a specific insight on the world, ultimately enabling him to progress into unclaimed intellectual territory. The type off insight I am referring to can be represented by a statement in his History of Animals: "But no creature is able only to move by flying, as the fish is able only to swim." This passage can represent both positive and negative aspects of Aristotle's account on animals and his methods in general. It shows Aristotle as observing the fish and the birds as operating under the same forces in the world but giving advantage to the fish, in saying that they do not have to worry about walking and flying, only swimming. It was in this way that he came to his conclusions about the categories things go in. He arranged it all into a hierarchy that gave advantage to certain creatures but only in respects to the creatures that he designated to be similar - ultimately distributing the balance of aptitude within the structure to each animal. This type of attitude towards animals and finding behavioral connections between them would pave the way for the Theory of Evolution. On the other hand, the passage above can also give us information about the way he handled his data. Only through logical analysis of the immediate empirical data could one generate such a thought. This establishes cause for criticism. To Aristotle, if it makes logical sense, it is a true statement. In more contemporary styles of thinking, the truth of something is reliant upon an abundance of factors other than the tautological proof of it. We must precisely measure, calculate and test our hypothesis before granting it a presence in even the realm of could-be truths.
Aristotle was completely ahead of his time insofar as his general attitude towards the creatures of the Earth, especially in comparison to human beings. His general idea, and what seems to be an undertone in his work on animals in particular, is this concept of all beings having an interconnecting tendency in the same overlapping network. Or, he is viewing it all as being from the same mold. So, behavioral traits like communication, habitat, food consumption and biological traits such as size of limbs, internal organ structure, and cavities of the heart are all compared under the same microscope. In other words, no animal or animal part, even when divided into categories, ever verges away from the general category and map to which life itself is at the mercy of. For example, he will divide animals into two categories 'gregarious' and 'solitary', then from gregarious comes the sub-category containing 'social' creatures which is distinguished from gregarious by the general "Property of having some one common object in view." (HOA Bk. 1 mm5)
He then further distinguishes this 'social' category as containing humans, bees, wasps, ants, and cranes. Furthermore, Aristotle dives deeper and isolates those that are governed by a ruler such as humans and bees. This differs from even some contemporary views that may express the notion that a human civilization is separate from a bee hive or any other type of social animal that is forced to survive by teaming up, communicating ideas and working towards the common goal of survival for the species as a whole. That perhaps these dumb beasts are motivated by a natural force to which humanity is somehow immune, through the ability to perform complex mental processes or something. With social creatures, a form of government is established, and the animal follows a heiarchical pattern, it is a common trait, as much a natural part of humanity's form and genetic code as any other animal's. Aristotle asserts in his analytical pursuit of TAK that we are all driven by the same force and that humans are much more the same as other forms of life than we, selfish in nature, are sometimes willing to admit.
Aristotle is touching on some advanced ideas, especially with his biological endeavors that wont become fully appreciated until many centuries after his death with the popularization of the Theory of Evolution. He is approaching TAK at first as a whole, and then dividing it into sections, usually identical in form but opposite in function or, two sides of the same coin. He does this while not loosing the initial conception of the whole. This deductive form of analysis presents an attitude that seems to hint at various intellectual and spiritual constructs that have driven the ultimate human paradigm of knowledge. Eastern philosophy and the teachings of the Dali Llama for example and even through the works of Fibonacci and the more contemporary disciplines formed because of his work such as Chaos Theory, and even Einstein's Theory of Relativity seems to be reinforced by the same general principles of everything existing on the same level, operating under the same outline. Time and space. Human and bee.
What I think is interesting about this is that Aristotle's framework for observation is lacking in both a-priori type empiricism and spiritual swaying. His information of TAK is gathered by a strict attempt at hardcore empiricism which is a known characteristic in Aristotle's world. In the time after Aristotle's death, the western school of thought became increasingly more saturated with Christian influence. Considerable advancements in technology were initiated and nurtured during the time after Constantine's initiation of the church into governmental affairs, but it wasn't until Copernicus suggested a heliocentric model of the universe that any progress was really made in the understanding of the physical world. This was because in order to understand the world as it is, you must make claims about the way it was or has been in the past. Conveniently enough, the map that is drawn out as a result of biological analysis and how organisms formed for example, contradicts the map that the Christian religion has provided. In order to pursue an explanation of the world you must question the authority and spiritual belief of the church. A belief that western culture has prescribed to. So the study of the physical sciences was gently ushered out of the western paradigm of science. When the heliocentric model of the cosmos was introduced, public opinion of the world was derailed from it's religious shackles and forced into a paradigm that would evolve with humanity as just another insignificant spec in an infinite vastness of space. This is an attitude that is seemingly becoming more and more parallel to Aristotle's a posteriori approach.
Aristotle's methods have been questioned as more contemporary methods for scientific discourse have been introduced. The modern instruments available in the periods after his death allow for a much more precise measurement and have the capabilities for creating much more solid claims. Aristotle simply lacked the convenience of these instruments and had to rely solely on empirical data. When regarding his accounts regarding TAK, he seems to be approaching it all as though he were an alien being, observing a new world for the first time. He is making claims based on his observations that are sometimes publicly recognized as lacking firm support, but they are claims that follow a logical pattern and are very developed for his time. The shortcomings that are frequently discussed within the scientific community I believe spawn from an inadequate experimental method available in the mentalities of the philosophers of ancient Greece. They were more focused on the intellectual side or even 'metaphysical' side of the mind and the issues it tends to address. It was their paradigm. It is to be expected, especially from a student of Plato, whose dialectic teachings focused on strict intelligence and stray from empirical resource. It seems proper that Aristotle would approach physical science the way he does. However, in a lot of ways, Aristotle solidified Plato's abstract insights on the world with insight of his own coupled with a more intricate system of logic. Plato's system was there, it was just not as defined.

Something within us is swelling. Ambiguity strengthens humanity's approach. Dissolve into the aether, sufficient enough for me. Our Copernican views will hold osmosis, bring water to the equation and reverse polarization. This is how we eat. What are these enchanting dillusions, the spot light is bright. Its brightness is actually overwhelming and in this matrix we are buoyant.

"Everyone is the same Simon. You must come to realize this. It is only the situation that determines and creates the illusion of difference or uniqueness. We are all of the same mind, being put through different situations. Imagine this concept, it will help you in your travels. If you seek the Promise Land, there is something you need to know. It is wise of you not to spit on your own deck. Two of your lives, the ones you have and have had as of right now will capture you as twice the amount of your currency. And exponentially you will grow in intellect as with age. But with twice the time comes twice the intellect, in one more of your lifetimes, the one you have lived up until now that is ', you will be twice as mature. It becomes a gradual process as time progresses and along with it, the criteria for human ability within the social stratum, that is the stimulus to our perceptive-receptory. Our brain builds receptors, and remember this wonderer, it builds them from external stimulus, things happening outside of our realm. We take this thing, this material object, this fact and shape it, form it and ultimately fully perceive it. To the Max, an artifact. Be true to this essence of which was extracted from the material realm. Become engulfed by it. Reap its eternal structure, for the tendency of your Arrangement of Attributes is to bound things up, that is why the physical realm cannot provide the path for you. You must trust your opinions and realize what is possible within what you know. "
"This all seems well and fare strange cosmic philosophy machine, but what of purpose?"
"Telas. Or the method by which something justifies it's existence. This justification is not for it's own purposes but for those of humanity's. You are the beholder, therefore giving it purpose from that extracting the form. We distinguish characteristics, identify differences and specify categorization. It is in this process that things obtain a singular form, distinguishing them from things that have other forms. Therefore one thing cannot have the same telas as another, for it would then occupy the same realm, it would be, in other words, the same thing. Connectablility plays it's part here, enabling relationship. Things can now be said to only be defined by their relationship to other things, for nothing can exist by itself. It must coexist with one other substance in order to have placement. The only thing that exists in an isolated nature, is the universe. For it is reasoned that nothing can exist without something else, therefore everything can not exist without the universe defined as one thing. Also, you know of nothing until you have identified it. Your ancestor, the hominid, experienced this first hand. In your world, there is nothing physical of which has not been identified. For the early man, he knew not of things until he identified it's telas. This led to explanations despite connectability."

"Okay, the delta is beginning again. Thank you wise one."

Is this for a blog or something?

I hail from Afghanistan and I am an accounting guru. Yes indeed. Indeediblydubidibly so in fact. My favorite form of elephant is the Indian sort, actually I think pretty much every kind of animal or anything that comes from India looks pretty weird. And by /wɪərd/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[weerd] of course I mean really great and not just great but awesome. Fucking awesome. Except for all that magic crap, I am an ACOUNTANT. I don't have time for these, inductive, means of explaining the universe. I actually dont have any time for knowledge of logic either because I only deal with numbers. And Pythagoras can fuck himself because I don't know philosophy either. All I know is that the primary Afghan import is morphene baby or other derivatives, so anyways it makes all this 'accounting' (and by accounting I really just mean sitting in a bomb shelter listening to big band music) a whole hell of a lot easier. I have summed up quantaties of digits and the like. Yes, definately quantaties of them and numbers as well. I am part of a big organization. And when I say big I mean probably the biggest. Its huge. Anyways my counterparts are all doing work like me, but we dont have to communicate. Sometimes I tap on the wall and I know they are there because I can here tons of other tapping. And when I tap louder they tap louder, and sometimes when I yell they do to but they only yell the same things as me which makes me think that they dont want to talk. But fuck them and fuck sarcasm to. THey are just assholes. But because we are all so busy counting...and stuff...like....that we don't talk any more. There is someone who takes all of our papers with numbers on them. In the begining they told us that for the guy to take our numbers we had to send it through this tube in the wall. Then they all started laughing which was kind of weird. But anyways, at the end of this tube is a bunch of fire which is kind of weird also.

intertwibed

dillusions of using that other shift key
dreams and memories
of simple magnitude .
they occupy alternatively identical experiences
keys and machines
trees and my Emory .
touché on the L(l)ord's fillet hitherto it checks my mate
which is everything sensory.





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