monday, february 1

picking coffee grit of a burst filter out from my mouth. i keep drinking this coffee, i am drinking it well past what is probably considered 'unacceptable'

writing this against my own thoughts, something goes wrong in my thinking, everything is too assured & implacable & deaf

i think have too much regard for my authority on the complex of emotion / cognition / sensation => reaction / event => history & potential + milieu variously addressed as 'me', 'my life', and as a certain fragmentary permutation of 'human nature' or 'reality' or 'the universe'

a privileged vantage does not imply infallibility or even accuracy, why can't i really understand this

i am often wary => therefore dismissive of interpretive biography -- are the foundations & inner invisible arrangement of X really so & so explicable? -- without considering that anything X could write of it would be equally false, or equally true: it can't be evaluated

it is an observer effect kind of

it is a problem of simulation / embodiment

a thought process is examined by other thought processes, which displace the thought process and 'beg the question'

feeling bad about 'how i am', generally / habitually / conclusively, is an arrogance i think, and it implies a sort of comprehensive study / refined intuition i am frankly incapable of

at this point overly dramatic thoughts occur to me, lurid:

• 'self' is a false construction, held only under fevered contortion
• and self-reflection is really another sort of perception, like sight or memory
• and the miasmic unlifting condemnation / precipitating taxonomy i see myself refracted thru is just the obscurent inverse after-image of once catching something in me too horribly bright but which has now safely set

which culminate overwrought & exaggerated, if i find it hard to hold in my mind, calm & level, the inevitability of eventually not existing, if it is easier to admit the innumerable threads to nonexistence that trace about & swadle & tempt to picking, continuously, of indefatigable cloth, then it is that accident & intention are not the threat to the invariability / analytic-closed-form my judgement presupposes, not like that of an innate / inexorable / unaccountable expiration

in symbols

i) the derivative of time == is ==> disintegration

ii) and this moment == is ==> never going to happen again

iii) ∴ my feeling bad about 'how i am' == manifests ==> the historian's fallacy

and okay this post is too much