Friday, April 22, 2011

Today's Virsyntaxial Sermoan

It is interesting to note, even if in a 'fictive networks' sort of modality, the touchings, no, the caresses, between my beloved syntaxis and the world. The lowest hanging fruit I can think of are the various traditions of the tetraskelion, or svastika, as relating to the four winds and the four directions, or cardinality, which, as I see in my little plasma window into the subconscious, could easily be given a  3rd dimension, and it is strangely humourous to note small unimportant aspects of the history, which are in turn covered by my own beloved irronism. Things like, for instance, in Guido Von List's Runological fantasies, he added an E stave called Eh, and a G stave called Gibur! Jibbering Memesy? Yes! (haaaoow weird). Now we are really getting into the weird, dark side, of Masonic~, or rather, dear, dear, impeccable reader, the Irronic thinking. G or Gibber as Generativity unbounded, ie, the aconceptuality of language, and its virality as Gestive Wind. Just pull any old weirdo jewish mexican mystic out of the toybox of history and kiss them, Monkeys are debased humans from Lemuria, from ancient men who bred with beasts? Oh, I love you, Samael Aun Weor-(do), but no, no no. Nice try though!

Another low-hanging fruit would have to be Deleuze and Guattari's "Schitzo stroll".. and I really don't want to get into a deep, although valuable I'm sure dubroglio about the specifics, but let's just say, a jellybean is sticky on the inside, or perhaps, in a Rutger Hauer Bladrunner way, "I've seen things.." Jellybean fountains made from wild corybantic chassis of frozen ink, chickens coming up out of the sink, etc.. You know.  You can dig up all kinds of Lemurian monkey chatter on this stuff:

Turning to Deleuze: how different Deleuze's meanderings are from the Wordsworthian stroll. A meandering walk first appears in the opening pages of Anti-Oedipus, an early work by Deleuze and Guattari. There the schizophrenic's motion through space is juxtaposed to the neurotic on the couch—think here of Wordsworth contemplating daffodils "when on my couch I lie." There is a shift from what is happening in the mind (very Wordsworthian) to what is happening to bodies (more Deleuzian). Anti-Oedipus works against the Oedipal machinations in Freud. One of the major twentieth-century critiques of Freud has been his inversion of the political. For Freud, power gets played out in the psyche rather than on the streets:

Oedipus says to us: either you will internalize the differential functions that rule over the exclusive disjunctions, and thereby "resolve" Oedipus, or you will fall into the neurotic night of imaginary identifications. Either you will follow the lines of the triangle [mother, father, me]—lines that structure and differentiate the three terms—or you will always bring one term into play as if it were one too many in relation of identification in the undifferentiated. But there is Oedipus on either side. And everybody knows what psychoanalysis means by resolving Oedipus: internalizing it so as to better rediscover it on the outside, in the children. (Anti-Oedipus 79).

Yes, the cursor, or the browser, or the linguo-languo framer-machine, emoti-sense-socket assigner
has an internal index, and then further, and external reality index. Wow! That is really hard to figure out..
Not. Maybe Samael Aun Weor was right. Hee. At any rate, no, no no.

Let's just move on. The labyrith! Humwawa! I have been Giburring on about Humwawa for years. I will be like at a party, maybe trying to talk to some girl, and I might say, so, you know about the ancient deity called Humbaba, or Humwawa. That goes over real good. Some guy will come up, and say, did you just mention
the ancient lord of the forest? No, no no. Just walk away. But there is something to it. Humbaba's face is inscribed with a meandering labyrinthine line. Our very body is a historical subjectivity. Reality is a digestion, a passing through in which transformation is constant, and not always positive. In the sense of ontology, Being, follows a twisting line, gibbering in the forest is akin to gnarling.

I found some interesting material in the book on Epicurian recruitment on motivation. Syntaxis definitely involves a motivational plane to its construct. I keep it a construct, because this is fun project, and not the actual project of 'Consciousness Studies'.. Let's be clear about that. This is more or less literary, or artistic in nature, a kind of 'critique of critique' if you will. In other words, or perhaps in Freudian terms, though I really hate this, Syntaxis is the knowledge that space and time is the only critique of human subjectivity, and in that sense, there is only one narrative, STRUGGLE! Attis, as castrated, because he remembers being a woman?
No, it's the fact that generativity, memes, are transgendered, and transcendant. If we call language an aconceptual vehicle, we could also call matter itself conceptual. Matter, like language, is crumbly, and easily disturbed. The smallest things might have the largest consequences, and the largest things may have no consequence at all.

Well, we'll keep all that under consideration. Moving on, the greek meander pattern. And even the word Syntaxis itself, is the latin word for essay. Culture as Rhetoric. Biology, and cultus, as an intertwining commentarium upon the rhetorical figure of our own understanding. The Politics of Experience, making one's way without and within, as against, and aided as well by abstract machines, or objects. Alan Sondheim has figured all this out in minute and exasperatingly beautiful terms, and connects it to physics etc. He eschews might decomplexifying impulses, but I can assure you, this in no way detracts from my interest or respect for him. Do the work, read the Sondheim.

Alan has a term for delibidinized cultic quanta. Is it delodge? I forget. But libido, or eros maybe is like a power for many of these assemblages, and coding is a great functionalist metaphor, etc..

Anyway. I kind of just get tired of thinking, and want to drift.

Years ago I had a vision of a sort of Henry Mooresque glass sculpture whose entire surface was a computer screen, and in which objects might be seen from any side. A 3-d computer screen. I saw glass brains with mermaids inside. I even made them into material synthesis machines where 'real things' could be made inside, but the original idea is still news. To this day, there is no technology like this. It is more or less, a simple 3d object like a dxf of obj file, but the screen gives it a relative value based on an actual volumetric form.
Imagine an odalisque, or buddha, or octopus for that matter full of bouncing kaleidoscopic balls, imagine being able to see the real through the screen as well, a real real, and perhaps a filtered real. Imagine a glass tree where blood drips from the insides of the branches down into the well of the trunk, then see creepy turtle demons down there playing waterpolo with the Emperor's head!

Video genies in cathode bottles.

Go in peace Irroneams. Wander as Guido Von List wandered
in the Rongo-Rongo lands of gnarly wild fasciast. Be as a Lemurian monkey
swinging on transparent siphoneuphoric vines through


image wild spaces
and make them!

Don't wonder upon the stickiness of the jellibean,
but wander there, be the dance of the fly
who oils heir featsies.