Someone says: “Given that the world is divided into mental or physical spheres…” And the fatal step has already been taken!
Dualism opens a chasm then wonders how to close it.
Man is a problem to himself.
Would we have motivation without emotion?
Even logic is a product of will.
Some disconnected thoughts strive after aphorism…
Most systems produce attitudes unsuited to freedom.
Opinions that cannot be defended are not worth holding.
Firing-patterns: thought from the viewpoint of an electrode.
Asking a question could indicate the overcoming of a problem.
Certain optimists hope to change what people want by not giving it to them.
Arguments from design appeal to natures not disgusted by biology.
We learn the result of refusal to learn from history, from history.
For believers incapable of life, its postponement until after death seems a useful option.
Many praise virtue, yet dislike those who hold its mirror to their faces.
Love your enemies: so they may hate you even more.
Deception is parasitic upon truth.
Dissatisfaction with my writing
shed in these
words like dead leaves
scattered across whiteness.
I imagine a multi-gun salute fired into my grave, instead of over it.
Someone in a dream insists “Special relativity is all very well, however the time I am referring to is the same throughout the universe!”
Trust is needed by infants, but an open book can be filled with lies.
Lacking knowledge of either parent a child may be partly an enigma to itself.
My freedom feels greatest in actions of least importance.
Moves of chessmen are determined, not the game.
Art is one of the better ways to waste time.
A culture should leave space for activities which lead to its advance.
What I reject philosophically can still affect me emotionally.
Alienation could lead to identification with the oppressed.
Explanatory power might make a theory more harmful, especially if it is false.
I return to this moment won from death
in defiance of entropy.
Does saying “I have a body” rather than “I am a body” imply the perspective of a soul?
It might be convenient to have gods who do the loving for us, while we carry on exploiting each other.
It seems some believers already take that approach?
Can society afford a conscience if its pleasures are built upon suffering?
A depressive view may be accurate: yet reached without depression.
Atheism can feel emotionally preferable to dogma.
As a child, I found myself trapped in an environment of malicious authority.
My nervous system formed under threat.
For the alienated, interaction with others often has a hint of self-betrayal.
Can I love humanity when I hate myself?
The cosmos tells us we are nothing; the ego tells us we are everything.
Both, in a sense, correct?
In the mirror of life a universe becomes visible to itself.
What use is knowledge if I remain unaffected?
Will is a manifestation of energy, subject to chaos.
No one sees the world whole.
Sometimes one speaks in order not to say anything.
In my environment sensitivity was a drawback.
Survival may be paid for with the soul.
I am often more suspicious of things people want to believe, than those they don’t.
While the mind can bolster us with feelings of power, it also leads us astray.
Dreams shape a world of which we seem directly aware, without intervening sense organs.
How well a belief works might prevail over questions of its truth.
Our brain has a certain range of interpretation. We divide time into units, but such units are not properties of time. Events remain unbounded: we frame them for comprehension’s sake.
Experience allows knowledge to override appearance.
Unreasonable doubt can be as unhelpful as unreasonable belief.
Would a born sceptic have communication problems? Learning a language requires acceptance before critique becomes possible.
Doubt comes after trust.
Are demands for certainty a legacy of metaphysics?
The irrational precedes the logical.
Spiritual need could spring from the horrors of life.
One issue after abuse: can I allow myself to be loved?
How long could people stay together before beginning to lie?
Might a relationship shorten if they insist on the truth?
Would I remain creative without some tinderbox of pain or unease?
Do verbal descriptions of feeling tend to have imperfections resembling those of linguistic translation? Does the analogy mislead?
Language was not designed for analysis. Studying a mechanism steps beyond using it.
Beware the plausibility of a question, just because it may be asked.
“Fabricated Concerns Ltd.” The name of a company in a dream I had.
Even poets hold “workshops” these days. Is art genuflecting to labour?
I prefer “art for art’s sake” to “work for work’s sake.”
Magical thinking shows a mind’s effort to protect itself from powerlessness.
Do atheists pray to their own subconscious?
A God outside the causal nexus cannot be deduced from inside it?
In some sense the supernatural undermines the mortal. Heroism exists without immortality.
Each moment is an end.
One day even computers may become depressed.
For me the appeal of Utopia is that if I am going to suffer melancholy I should prefer it to be in comfort.
Is there time in a void? Time exists in relation to matter.
People are a perennial disappointment. Some are distinguished by a fathomless lack of depth. The vacant head might pass for enigmatic.
Would precognition imply a future ready to be seen: a finished universe? Slices through static eternity.
How many times do we feel something is going to happen that does not? The correct hunches get remembered.
A sense of immortality coming from our dreams, where we seem to defy nature. Back to an age when laws of physics had less meaning for us.
I can easily envisage circumstances which could cause me to renounce my disbelief in the supernatural. Can believers say the same about their own openness to correction? A belief able to cite conditions for its falsifiabilty has more claim to reason.
Whatever indeterminacy affects this table at a quantum level, it retains painfully determinate abilities to impress itself upon my shins.
Space has no taste
but swallows everything.
We tend to take more interest in a truth which reinforces our bias.
Swept by pity for history: imagined in a stream of suffering bodies, helpless as mine.
A frigid jewelry of frost lay slick on the pathway. It was lit by distant city light, glowing like a frontier post against infinite night.
Does love open us wider to life, or confine us in petty cares?
Demanding too much can spoil even what is there.
Happiness is transitory. Love on passing moments.
The eternal only touches us in moments.
A perfection of moments.
Can we hope for more?
It is easy to forget being less than half our adult size as children. I remember when fields seemed wide as plains to me, and the world sat farther from our house.
If a hero requires a cause: what would a hero do in utopia?
In the existence I seem destined to lead, many feelings are a drawback.
Does a happy person ask if they are happy?
At my school any pretext sufficed for bullying. Yet perhaps this was more a sign of animal health than my own isolation from the pack.
Tasteful eclecticism as a method of avoiding totalities.
If the unknown is more exciting than the known, one could find searches for new information tinged by anticipation of inevitable disenchantment.
But do we really know any part of the universe?
In that case we could face disenchantment at the impossibility of knowledge.
Novels can spoil us for real people.
So much time spent sleeping: what we might give for some of it at life’s end. Though, if we try to live without sleep, that end will probably come a lot sooner.
Intellect may be sabotaged from within. (31/12/1978)
My going to parties: as evidence for the incorrigibility of optimism. (1/1/1979)
Sunlight on evening grass. Little pats of warmth touched him, like faint invitations to desire. Being alone felt somehow wrong.
He stood waiting, as life slipped past. Wounded awareness. A sliver of the infinite. Wanting to give love, while there was still time.
Yet he knew, watching the sun lower behind trees, that this would be another night of going home to silence. And a last stare, in the bathroom mirror, at his characterless face: which sealed him off from those girls he longed to know, trapping the bird of soul in clumsy flesh.
Inexperience made him shy. Shyness kept him inexperienced.
Happiness often seemed a product of action.
Passing a block of flats where he spent childhood years, there came an impulse to look inside.
On its first floor stood a small boy. He climbed past the infant, quickly reaching the top landing. Outside that door to his old flat, a strange feeling he still lived here moved through him. And a memory of how those large windows in the stairway would sound when hit by gusts of wind on stormy nights.
Love can be a faith. Its main drawback being the other.
Do not fall in love with a mask hoping to find something behind it.
He heard splintered impacts as myriad raindrops scattered across concrete. A storm had crept over the area swiftly. Suddenly roofs were lashed by a sweeping curtain of water, which rose above pavements in fine spray. An angry rushing noise reached its furious peak, then fell, via flickering hiss, to staccato mutters. Soon only dripping gutters and pipework were audible.
Dark cloud now clustered along a distant hillside, amid bristling trees.
He turned away from the window.
An open notebook lay on his bed. “One has to choose to live,” read the last line.
Once we dislike a person their virtues become even harder to bear.
He sat in a hard plastic chair. The room had doors on each side. One way led to offices, unseen by the public. Another to a waiting area.
He had been summoned here, but not told why.
A man entered, leafing through a large file. He spoke without eye-contact.
“I asked you to attend to inform you of the decision of the Commission.”
Who were the Commission, he wondered. What did they know about him?
“As empowered by the Act of 1976, section 25, it has been decided that, in view of your persistent and wilful inability to obtain suitable employment: you should be charged with failure to maintain yourself. Which carries a possible penalty of a fine and/or a period of imprisonment, not exceeding three months.”
So the state would have its revenge against an offence of nonconformity. He must grovel before the dismal god of work?
What to do next?
He wanted to be a writer or artist, but could not see the path forward. Some way beyond his current isolation and depression. A critical inner voice undermined such hopes. With fear that any feelings of potential were just another illusion.