a file which represents a transcription of a braindump during a plane journey at some point in the past.
tell a bit more of the story, plumb the level of it as my mind moves away from it again.
that cohesion; a knowledge, an epistemological certainty about the fundamental interconnectedness of things. well, certainty can imply the prevariation of some doubt; words like 'knowledge' not really express the set of [?]
a hopefulness; hopefulness that seems almost beatific; that entails much of the original simple manifestation of the vision; objects, questions and answers, propelling themselves about a fluid continuum. things start to happen around me, though not often with my direct central involvement; more going on, seeing people around me forming new ideas, conversational connections, engaging small synchronicities. i feel tapped into the ideaflow, in a state i could describe 'nodal', like the chap in 'mpna lisa overdrive'; making hyperconnections, perceiving underlying common themes, conjoining fo threas, something underlying (except without the qualitative of 'under' or 'lying' - something rather in-dwelling-through (thinking gerald manley hopkins) the essence of mind and pattern)
my narrative sense of time starts to shift, events and ideas correspond, 'match up' through time; i seem to be having a lot of other peoples' ideas, a short while in advance, all overlaid. that connotation again, reading to pop off the stack. eddies of tiny synchronicities, many small things in the world - especially textual ones - names of hops, wording on signs etc, become massively significant; as if something designed to be a sign became inbued with its sign-carrying meaning, with the residue of so many gazes, so many infoprocessing brains. not to be machinistic; difficult conclusions to make.
it is a human hope and harmony; something like an anthropic principle, an anthropomorphic fallacy, turned inwards on itself; the way a statement like, "the reason for our existence is to learn the reson for our existence" on the cusp of nihilism, tautological completeness; of the ambivalence of my personal, immediate, physical position with all this; the very good and the very bad things come intertwingled; negotiating one's way along this line, not to fall off, lose the generous clamour of either.
i can connect this to bucky fuller's conversation about us - all of us humans - being touch and go, til the very last minute. all the way? there does seem to be a pre-clusion about a "shift" of some kind, a turning point or turning back or mirror echo effect archetypal and acted out in the threadas of literature, (at least, that's where i know how to look for it and to see it) down centuries; offering a reason for the backbones of religion (recalling the preface to 'madness and civilisation': "the realisation that i am, or you are, christ") that connection to and through Thing, motivator as in Universe. if i knew the word 'true', i should like to use it of this. strange words for concept meshes: yeats' 'a vision', eschaton, singularity, revelation. sounding wild, and sounding like little or nothing to do with humans; this is a probelm; i perceive the techno-gaian aspect to all this, the picture of which we as a network of humans are a part. what structures we can form, such crystallising beauties within them, with this reach, this speed, this dissemination; perhaps, sparkier but more febrile minds cotangent with more central, less ambitious ones; fantastic impromptu collections of ideas, code, things we can make.
but it's not possibly for us - what broadly being us? techno-boho, hacktivists, small cliques of net freaks slowly connecting over the world, recoding ideals. that kind of radicalism, idealism, only working in one's back garden, one's community of 7000. visualisation of community wireless, spin the scope out too far, see the black patches, the infrastructural errors. always stating, 'you are here', working way out, up, through.
recall dmiles saying, "if you can fully understand a story, no matter how small, you can relate it later to everything", having my own story, as one other theme in the massively parallel collaborative story that is everything i know. (connection overload, thoughtful flow).
i try to understand my own, that seems like one of the hardest tasks to give a person; "i've spent my whole life teaching myself to think", i remember crying out to ephidrina, a few days before losing the plot bigtime. the false completion that is coming out of, "i think i can understand everything, if i try"; working towards something, getting the 'work is done here' feeling about it too soon. non-self-aggrandising reflection in this space is difficult. i'd like to press it, because of that sens of irrational certainty i have, and because of the changes. timbl in his book world changes
existential idea wrt every person being able to do what they most wish, as they best can, and tell stories about it all afterwards. exchange and codevelop new stories. in small parts of academic community, imagine ideal subsists, increasing less, commercial override of education concerns. the ideal where working, studying and socialising all become part of the same acitivty, or at least less compartmentalised, more overladen.
the category systems we have inherited, the world-shaping semantics recursive; particularly in schools and colleges, ages and changes. this seems insane; to take small humans, separate them out from family, neighbourhood, friendship context, slam them in a feral little prison almost, monitored, with groups of hweir discontextualised peers of an age, and more or less different backgrounds; confusion cells. dress the little fuckers in *uniforms*, for fuck's sake. what is one looking at?