Friday, May 21, 2010
All The World Wants to Know
(1)
TGIF again as I attempt to resynch booze/blog night with the approaching weekend. Last week's effort was certainly premature, and the result was a severe hangover. Even the next day was somewhat hungover. So the current plan is for a short night.
Kootch is pretty much back to normal. So was I until I downed a shot of Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi. Designed to make my (totally forgotten) blog psychologically pleasant rereading, the booze worked. But the reread generated the need for more... booze... you know how that goes... So I'm back, buzzing.
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First project tonight is music. Hangover music. Simple and soothing. Mozart Piano Concerto 1,
second movement. Enjoy.
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Second project: Comments on (2) below: Forked! Muddy waters! Deep psychological Doo-doo. Worse than current oil-infested gulf waters! Bathe at your own risk! Even the Dolly Lama may have taken exception, as he appeared on Today for the first time yesterday. (But I am delusional, of course.) I like the Dolly Lama's willingness to update Buddhism in keeping with modern brain science. But has The Dolly ever done LSD? All the world wants to know. 'Science' has yet to describe an LSD Trip in the simplest terms. I have done so. Would The Dolly agree?
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And then there is 'Existentialism.' So sad! So sad to discover that The Jewish Monster your dumbass mother believed in and taught you to 'pray' to, doesn't really exist: Angst. Despair. Absurdity. Alienation.
Rat fuck! My reading of Existentialism is that it is not so much Philosophy as Psychology. Another way of putting it is that Existentialism is left-brain thinking mixed with too much right-brain thinking. (Raw Logic, marinated in Emotional Sauces.) And I have done a little reading of the subject: The Myth of Sisyphus, for example. I liked it. I also read The Outsider. I liked that too. Both books no doubt infiltrated my subdural environment to some extent, although I could not today describe any of the main themes except in the obvious case of Sisyphus rolling a rock up a hill. The subject infiltrated me at the time, filling some or other void. I soaked it up.
But I never 'became an Existentialist.' There was too much else to consider.
TGIF again as I attempt to resynch booze/blog night with the approaching weekend. Last week's effort was certainly premature, and the result was a severe hangover. Even the next day was somewhat hungover. So the current plan is for a short night.
Kootch is pretty much back to normal. So was I until I downed a shot of Canadian Mist and Diet Pepsi. Designed to make my (totally forgotten) blog psychologically pleasant rereading, the booze worked. But the reread generated the need for more... booze... you know how that goes... So I'm back, buzzing.
----------
First project tonight is music. Hangover music. Simple and soothing. Mozart Piano Concerto 1,
second movement. Enjoy.
----------
Second project: Comments on (2) below: Forked! Muddy waters! Deep psychological Doo-doo. Worse than current oil-infested gulf waters! Bathe at your own risk! Even the Dolly Lama may have taken exception, as he appeared on Today for the first time yesterday. (But I am delusional, of course.) I like the Dolly Lama's willingness to update Buddhism in keeping with modern brain science. But has The Dolly ever done LSD? All the world wants to know. 'Science' has yet to describe an LSD Trip in the simplest terms. I have done so. Would The Dolly agree?
----------
And then there is 'Existentialism.' So sad! So sad to discover that The Jewish Monster your dumbass mother believed in and taught you to 'pray' to, doesn't really exist: Angst. Despair. Absurdity. Alienation.
Rat fuck! My reading of Existentialism is that it is not so much Philosophy as Psychology. Another way of putting it is that Existentialism is left-brain thinking mixed with too much right-brain thinking. (Raw Logic, marinated in Emotional Sauces.) And I have done a little reading of the subject: The Myth of Sisyphus, for example. I liked it. I also read The Outsider. I liked that too. Both books no doubt infiltrated my subdural environment to some extent, although I could not today describe any of the main themes except in the obvious case of Sisyphus rolling a rock up a hill. The subject infiltrated me at the time, filling some or other void. I soaked it up.
But I never 'became an Existentialist.' There was too much else to consider.
