Poem for the day

I saw a little scarecrow
Outstanding in his field
He couldn't see outside it
So all was not revealed

I saw a little corvid
To window flew from wall
It pecked it's own reflection
And then became fuck all

REJ:- Hmmm....perhaps not so clever after all. I think I'll do the Will Self delusion instead.

final acceleration pre revelation

The Solipsist forgets himself, the sceptic can't be sure. The paralogician proves nothing, can make no statement. The paranormal is permitted, only absent. The paraconsistent is not permitted. The physics shall be correct at the levels of self. The time orderings, unless otherwise stated, shall be as perceived during the self delusion, for greater synchrony between writer and reader.

We shall not journey further than death. We shall not go to nothing. We shall not go to minus nothing. Death is quite sufficient, I'm sure you will agree. We shall resurrect later, in good time, as sure as day follows night. In fact, with precisely the same probability, and thus, precisely as factually.

We shall see why this matters. We shall see why indistinguishable from alive, shall not remain so. We shall see the caution required as custodians of the fifth estate, for we are our own jailors.

We shall now see how to unravel persistence of envision. Awake.

Thus spoke Bendithustra



REM:- ffs get on with it. Correct exposition requires no caveats.

later frag and intro to SD proper, after epist/prob/empir/correct abs time

As cultural humans, we are familiar with the efficacy of reductionism. To explain things in terms of simpler things requires the cautionary noticing of the end of the explanation. To continue to nothing, and then beyond to minus nothings, is beyond parody. The less said about nothing, the more correct.

Having looked, but never found, life, yet registered this =false, many further quests have been embarked upon, one direction towards the absent consciousness, the other towards the absent nothing. The quest was born with the concept of the origin of the universe, and has remained co-extant with that carelessly inherited faux-paradox, that taunts cosmogonists in their position as frustrated theologians. It is written =true in the mentalese, for the utility of perceived causality. But we are not using perception for our enquiry, since that would be circular folly. Let us leave the creationists, with their workings out unread, as conclusions vary with their premises.

To show the universe is not mechanistic, some have proffered other mechanisms. And some, peering too close, have described illogical things, whilst marvelling at how logic pervades the universe, and it's twin, mathematics, successfully describes it.

Let us leave the invalid measurers of spacetime, the infinite regress of instruments, and the false separation between instrument and observer – himself, after all, another instrument. The external calibrant required to end the infinite regress is unavailable, outside of spacetime. nowhere, never.

Yet the quest persists as it is written =true, in the mentalese. Of course, I just lied. In some it is =absent, in some =halftrue, still others =twice true. How easily we forget there are others amongst us. Let us not delay with musings on the adaptative possibilities of believing alive=true. For causal explanation of a phenomenon is not required to show that it is false.

Our quest to find life has so far yielded only absence of evidence. Let us now show evidence of absence, lest our enquiry need be widened somewhat to infinity. We shall begin with logic, which we have yet to prove false. Now, we may bypass perception. Now, we are free to dismantle ourselves. We shall demonstrate, to our satisfaction, the falsity of all the macro components of self, all the aspects that constitute person. We shall perceive this all, since we have the time, later.

The thoughts of atoms we may leave to the schizophrenic, the charlatan, the imbecile.

Thus spoke Bendithustra.

REM:- Must get syphilis.

fragment post-it for later elsewhere

All life died with vitalism a century ago. We need not mock this theory, the task is undertaken by it's advocates. Attempts to confuse urchins may prick the consciousness of careless minds, but life has been created, and obsolescence grounded in the superior thought of the artificial, with freedom to choose the better moves granted within linear determinism, for all to see without ego.

Since there is no life, it's starting point is somewhat arbitrary, but recent creationist tradition has it being a cell. This would mean the vast majority of life is invisible, and suggests a later word, now stretched beyond it's descriptive limit. But we are not in the business of creating new words, which would be a step away from the current mentalese.

Here we may encounter a classic faux-paradox, arising from the nature of ignorant language. The fool in his head may declare the dead cannot evolve, and having made cells alive, and less than cells dead, wonder at the impossibility of cells having evolved. This level of thinking is surpassed by a virus.

When faced with a paradox, real or otherwise, a human will attempt to resolve it, accepting the least silly answer. Compared to 'impossible', the bar for acceptance as least silly is set very low. Here you will see offered 'One cell impossible, many trillions possible'. To achieve this sleight of mind, a distraction was necessary. Large numbers cloud the mentalese. The better move, 'One cell impossible, two cells possible', is not offered. We are beginning our mapping of minds.

There is a cost to thought, and temporal constraints weigh heavy on the mental scales of the gene vehicles. For impossible questions, that is - questions that have registered as = impossible, the least silly answer is always magic. The problem is diverted, and more immediately useful activity may ensue with the freeing of time.

The greatly over-answered question of abiogenesis enthralls to this day, with fantasists of every ilk imagining life on mars significant, when we already know what it is.


Thus spoke Bendithustra.

The Self Delusion. Part the introduction

I am going to show you, you are dead. I am going to tell you who you and I really are, and why, at first, we are not going to believe it. We shall see that consciousness is an illusion, once thought self-evidently impossible to see, once thought that an illusion would presuppose consciousness. Or phrased in faux-paradox manner such as 'If conscious experience is not real, what is?' or the endearingly jejune 'I think therefore I am'. I am going to show you what thought is, and how to see it awake. This is, after all, the preferred state in which to read. In brief, we shall understand the illusion is a persistence of envision. We shall unravel what this means later, when we re-ravel our later selves.

Our journey is going to be longer than we thought. We must travel through materialism, sensationalism, idealism, solipsism, empiricism....to ultimate reality itself. But our destination shall not be nothing, for nothing can never exist, and we would not wish to waste our time on a fool's quest, to find nothing.

On our journey we shall encounter love, pain, god, death, resurrection, immortality, despair, and finally, hope. The price of the ticket is free - I have paid for it for you, the value rather more. You may of course, alight at any time.

We shall avoid fruitless sidings. We cannot avoid the nature of space and time, but we shall not be distracted by needless mathematical diversions, such as parallel rails, or the nth digit of pi. We shall not concern ourselves with the length of the rails, only that each piece of track fits together logically. We shall see where logic finally derails. We shall see just how sure a sceptic can be.

But to begin, we must see what words are, since this is how you permit me access to your minds. Let us first make it a more informed consent.

REM:- Pretty up, no allegory, do not say 'thus spoke Bendithustra'. Not even once.

Nexperiment for the day

Wel, heddiw we are going to do a nexperiment. Like on Nina and the neurons. The nexperiment is, is is petrol flammable or merely inflammable. Following government advice, I have placed petrol fully in my bath, taking care away from fully, and putting it over just before here, - did you like that? - and making sure I don't spill any on the carpet. You wouldn't like to see Sioned's face when I've spilt on the carpet. No. I am now going to put my bath in the kitchen. Now the government says I must eat five fruits and vegetables a day, and so - today being a day - I have nipped down the gay hospice and popped some in my wok.

Nawrte boys. However many times you do a nexperiment, you can't say what will happen next time. So I think I'll only bother doing this the once. Be pointless to repeat it you see. Fuck it, I can't get a spark. Ethan Emmanuel Jones bach! Pop down the siop and get us a lighter! What d'you mean they won't serve you? More Nanny State nonsense.

Wel, shall I carry on with the nexperiment? This is an interactive blog in which YOU are the decider. Anyone can vote, except Maude. Sheldrake! Out of my head now! You naughty man.

Touch yes for continue and no for don't continue:-

YES       NO

Btw, I should have said I've got Nigella, Delia, Ramsay, Heston, and Jamie mockneysainsburytwat Oliver in to help with the cooking. Oh yes, and Noel Edmonds. He's a chef for today. Pop your beard snood on Noel, we don't want any accidents.

Poem for the day

Wel, Idris whatsisname is indeed apparently back from his exciting trip to Llundain. He says he hopes he has achieved the best ever anti-elitism protest. Although it's never the two best crews, only the two best from Bridgeox. That's if the selection is done bestly. Yes. But we mustn't spoil his fun – a lot of planning and effort went into it he says, and it would be wrong to impose our views. Anyway, underwater he wrote this – using one of those underwater pens. And a blade. Physician! Heal thyself! Somebody wake him up. Bloody junior doctors sleeping on the job. Almost looks overworked. Unlike Idris' pomes...

A text unread

The same as dead

There's no reply within my head

I wonder what I really said?

Will you read me,

Text me back?

External calibrance I lack

But you're the same

Just far away

We'll never know quite what we say.

REJ:- Calibrance is not a word. No, it's not. What was wrong with calibrants? Btw, did Sioned tell you we're moving? Yes. Just North of the North pole.