SYMBOLIC: ADVENTURES IN TEXT
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May 18, 2004
085: The In-Betweener
The In-Betweener was always one of my favorite characters that Jim Starlin introduced (well, this was the first place that I ran into him) as part of Adam Warlock's struggle for his soul. The In-Betweener, split between light and dark, would appear to those who were held up at the threshold and would assist them in making the transition.
I'm waiting for the In-Betweener.
I'm coming out of the morass that I've been snared in (though today certainly wasn't a good day) and am starting to remember what it is like to have my head on fire. I'm not completely comfortable with these hour blocks of time that I have to work with, but I'm starting to understand how they are going to have to work. I'm beginning to be able to hang scenes in my head for several days -- in this case, Markham's visit to Club Adonis to get some information -- and just pluck them back from this hanging space -- the Recovery Sphere -- and "remember" where I was. I used to write so quickly that I would blow through scenes and now the pace is more languid, more like using a brush to paint a landscape instead of dashing off a quick sketch as I blow past the idyllic scene.
I just need the In-Betweener to show up and kick me through this door. I'm almost out, but not quite.
Posted by Teppo at 09:35 PM
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May 10, 2004
084: Trapped in a Reality-Tunnel
I'm having a little neck trouble. I've been to two chiropractors and all I've heard so far is, "Yeah, you've got some brain pressure. Now get up on the machine so we can crack your bones." I understand that they are taking a few days to examine my x-rays and determine the best method of whanging my spine back into shape, but, in the interim, I've got an equilibrium problem. Why couldn't "brain pressure" mean that I hallucinate instead of just being dizzy?
The protagonists of Colin Wilson's The Philosopher's Stone have slivers of metal inserted into their brains in an effort to bridge gaps in the frontal lobs. As a result they become detached from "Time" and are able to exert their wills over reality: bending perceptions, extrapolating truth through lucid dreaming and communicating telepathically across time and space. Their brains have been awakened to a state where they -- the individual -- have been disconnected from the prison of the "I." They've found Robert Anton Wilson's Chapel Perilous.
Robert Anton Wilson has given me a couple of ideas to roll around my head these last few days. His version of the Chapel Perilous is one of them. The second is the phrase "habitual reality-tunnel" and the last is the idea that the origin of UFO sightings will eventually be revealed to be non-extraterrestrial in nature, that UFOs are simply the convergent language to express what is otherwise a "magickal" event. In the same way that angel visitations were realized in the Middle Ages and the expression of psychics and mediums were in the Victorian Age, UFO sightings and phenomena are simply a means of expressing an other unexplainable event. An event which is most likely caused by our brains bending or interpreting reality in a way that is beyond our shuttered world views. When we step outside our habitual reality tunnels, our brains engage with the external world in a way that is beyond our normal comprehension. In an effort to make sense of it, in an effort to communicate it to some other human being, we attach reality-tunnel language to it.
Two things: (1) Arthur C. Clarke: "Any sufficiently advanced technology will be indistinguishable from magic." (2) Joseph Campbell: "God is a thought. God is an idea. God is a means of expressing that which cannot be otherwise be made quantifiable."
Why couldn't the mechanisms hidden in the frontal lobes be stuck in the cerebellum? That way when the axis bone of your spine is out of place, you'd be having UFO visitations instead of just feeling like you're going to throw up.
Don't mind me. I'm just trying to think outside my reality-tunnel.
Posted by Teppo at 08:58 AM
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May 04, 2004
"There are as many translators as there are humans."
Spam agents are getting smarter. Heuristics have been developed which attempt to emulate living responses in the comment areas of blogs, mechanized schema which try to pass themselves off as human beings leaving content which can be considered appropriate. It's spooky to read something like the above comment and find that it very nearly fits with the discussion at hand (which, in this case, had been about the division of humanity from its pre-Babel state into a multitude of tongues). Or maybe they've just got some poor bastard who has the job of trolling the back lots of blogs and inserting commentary and providing links to porn and pharmaceutical sites.
We'll pretend that it's an automatic agent, an algorhythm designed to mimic human behavior, tiny Turing-esque machines churning up the Internet at the bequest of their Porn Masters. The porn industry drives technology, you know, and at this rate, it won't be long before they stumble upon AI. Maybe it's already out there, lurking behind the screen name of "LicksDogsBalls69."
I'm on Chapter 7 this week, starting to work on the mystery. Liz and Markham have cut short their flight and are returning to the city in order to break the mystery before the agents of the opposition find them. Liz has begun her initiation into the arcane world and I've introduced the fortune teller.
I like fortune tellers. It's probably a weakness that I need to overcome, but until it becomes an eye-rolling clique in the work, I'll happily insert one. If I don't kill this guy in the process of demonstrating how the monster works, he'll be a reoccuring supporting character which are handy to have.
So, yeah, busy last week, dealing with the mundane realm of familial visits and yard work. This week: back to the shadow realm. Crowley says of the Moon card: "This is the threshold of life; this is the threshold of death. All is doubtful, all is mysterious, all is intoxicating." That's where I'll be: crossing the threshold.
Posted by Teppo at 09:16 PM
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