- Fucking the brain with expensive and sometimes discounted prices, your thoughts? I asked Martin, cracking another value system
Loyalty is a sign of more advanced intelligence. You always have a choice to eat healthy food or unhealthy food. You always have the choice to make it to the bathroom or to pee in the street. You always have a choice to have penetration with someone you’re not in a relationship with or not. If you’re no different than a candy wrapper and fly where the wind blows, you shouldn’t call it hot and wild like the call of nature. It’s something to think about, isn’t it?
Absolute memory is pathological. Every night in my dreams I would walk through the deafeningly dark hallways and walk into my childhood home over and over again. Every night I entered a branch of hell on earth and there was no way I could stop this destructive process. It seemed that I needed to close the gestalt, but I didn’t know which one. My eyes could see. The brain didn’t see. If a person is told the same information every day with confidence that is not true, then one day it will become part of his full life, a memory of a memory. I lie so skillfully that I am able to fool my pathology-filled brain. Fear is the engine of progress. Some fears must go away, while others are already in line for their next era. Fear of starving to death, fear of wasting our lives, fear of being the worst, fear of being the worst makes our lives more fulfilling and dynamic. As I stood in front of the door of that same old rotting house, I saw one image, then felt a completely different image. I thought, what if I came here in a backhoe and destroyed that memory, it wouldn’t be worse, but it would definitely be fun.
- I’m just a straightforward person, said Alice, appreciating the blurry drawing that Gerta presented at the exhibit
We’re flying a broken plane to crash. The extraordinary perception and the fact that they a person can see art that screams deep philosophy in a painting White on White, and another will pass by and spit that people have become so dumb and uninteresting that they cannot step beyond the obvious beginning. There is one convex difference between a straightforward person and an ignorant one. A subtle sense of the world. There is a sharp difference between constructive criticism and giving one’s opinion. Was there a question?
It seems that all the words have been said, the pictures have been painted and the poems have been published. All that remains is clumsy plagiarism and trampled varieties of the same object. A remake is only good when the original falls short of genius. It’s hard to believe, but even 100 years ago some people thought that it couldn’t get any better, that new is well-forgotten old, and all the variations were just an attempt to somehow explain their mortal existence here. That’s not a drill. After watching sublimely intelligent documentaries one must be able to ground oneself and not forget about the perishable, hysterically current life. We can’t and shouldn’t know everything in the world. It’s foolish to take your foot off the neck of a tiger and then try to make a quick escape. Astrology. Numerology, Human Design. Tarot. Magic. We read our data from the tableau and genuinely admire the coincidences like this is a buzz, this is magic. We are so ignorant of ourselves that the more we go deeper inside, the more artifacts lurk behind the double bottom. We know we’re definitely not, but what we are is the question of the next day. I have a thought and I think it. If the brain makes a decision 30 seconds before a person realizes it, should we be so afraid of artificial intelligence? Chasing the elusive red rag, there is bound to be a sacred answer behind it, but rapturously snapping it off one may suddenly realize that one has not had time to formulate the very question.
The black moon had changed its sign, and if I came across a traffic cone, I would steal it. I was walking along with a big soft bear and stammering under its weight, ticking off plans in my notes on my phone. I didn’t fucking need that bear, it was a waste of money and there wasn’t enough room for it in my apartment, but it was my cherished childhood dream and I hunted for it in spite of the hyperbolized stupidity of the situation.
- What scent do you associate doubt with? Martin asked me, tapping an iPad nervously with his fingers.
- Definitely something of the citrus variety, I replied, staring at the black screen of my phone, hypnotizing it for a call
- One gives birth to a void, and the other has to fill it,” he said.
- That’s how everyone lives. Haruki Murakami. 1Q84