The book of Lord Schist
was on the short list
with his rock-solid verse
that shouldn’ t be missed.
His writing is terse
and it comes with a twist
he gives all those who curse
a slab on the wrist.
The book of Lord Schist
was on the short list
with his rock-solid verse
that shouldn’ t be missed.
His writing is terse
and it comes with a twist
he gives all those who curse
a slab on the wrist.
The woman on the cardboard is fading.
Her elven hair has caught dust. A thousand squirrels run from underneath her.
The year is almost over. On the shelves: nylon socks. Now I am present here.
My groin is stationary at this orange table.
The machines are roaring. The microwave.
Coffee. The blinds. The cold air.
Freshener gets sprayed here with some frequency.
Parasite subdivide erudite
blundering souls with no rewards
the stillness of aging!
halflove
The rocky hills and mountains, like teeth outside of me
the hum of household machines
and me, still there, faithful to the secret
of being the present person who sat
there and felt that
The constant buzzer of pain
that ugly fleeting empire
sending out its cavalry
to agitate my nerve tissue, to sabotage
every sound, every smell, every taste
and make me want to be replaced
but fail.
My husband is obsessed with woodworking, now he doesn’t have time for me. I think he’s filing for divorce.
Artists critical of society nowadays have the strange habit of begging institutions of same society be the ultimate arbiter of their work.
Instead of their real audience, that has yet to be born.
They don’t believe me, and they split
One they goes on and on repeating it
The other they says, spitefully, cope!
I despise them, and become a misanthrope
“Everybody is a philosopher in their own way.”
Everybody is an artist in their own way.
Everybody is a doctor in their own way.
Everybody is a lawyer in their own way.
Everybody is a pilot in their own way.
Go fuck yourself in your own way.
The cattle is furrier
The mountains are sharper
The birds cry louder
The houses are homelier
And the women
I told her over tapas
That I have two papas
between olives and anschovis
Oh, well, c’est la vie
When one of your parents unintentionally buys a single size mattress for a dual size boxspring but it doesn’t really matter because the other parent isn’t there anymore.
I saw it in a dream. It woke me up to take this note.
I use the free website annotation tool hypothes.is to add comments to websites. Made for education, it can also “enhance” (for lack of a better word) public discourse. If nothing else, it makes you read articles more actively, like you’re engaging in a conversation with the author.
Example:
Cioran once said that he was glad that the concept of suicide existed because otherwise, he would kill himself.
Perhaps this also applies to transhumanism: without the concept and idea that it is technologically not impossible, of eternal life, we would just have to live forever.
So why does it? If you have it in abundance, it fails to give meaning in the obvious ways it does when we need it to meet our basic needs. The thought that the result of our endeavour – the amount on our bank account – is subject to inevitable inflation of meaning, is hard to bear.
So we explore other pathways: consumption of expensive goods and services, and comparison to other people’s “wealth”.
This is an impulse that doesn’t care about the consequences. Think environmental and social inequality. In other words: it corrupts.
Those essential services, the doctors nurses shopkeepers farmers truckers, plus we the people sitting at home playing with themselves or each other while connected to the global brain via the Internet – that IS the economy now. It might be hard enough to save that economy, so let’s stop talking about the abstract beast ‘economy’ which was nothing but an upward redistribution scheme selling the masses fake happiness to compensate for their fake work.
Your “talent” is not some magical force you can tap into, it has always been built up over time. You did that. Every talent you have, you have accumulated and that process started when you were conceived, in your mother’s womb. “I don’t have talent” is never an excuse. It is never too late to start building talent. Make the world your womb. Stay hard.
Currently, there is a new virus outbreak originating in the United States. The scientific name of the virus is MOFO45. Precautions include: being nice to each other, reading books, and in severe cases applying a WHO-approved mouthwash.
Profit maximization is a ‘clean’, strong forcing idea, i.e. one that allows for the abstraction from local context. It binds human actions together in a social structure that proves very hard to disentangle. Communal welfare cannot abstract from life in this way. The internal motivation hinges on local outcomes and thus erodes, leading either to societal collapse or suppression, which represent more primitive forcing ideas, namely following orders and immediate survival.
Culturally, the watershed moment will be when people begin to prefer AI over other people. Only if and when that happens, will there be something like a 4th industrial revolution – a revolution that ultimately overcomes homo sapiens itself. From: Kamiel Choi, our last century.