Sunday, October 24, 2010

As is usual, I am the winter of my discontent

I've set myself a task, a goal, a great work. You could say I've found my true will. So, enough with the daydreaming, it is time to begin. There are so many ways to say things. Consider the simple phrase "Words mean whatever we say they mean". This is how language works. Long before there were dictionaries people were talking, and even writing. So therefore consider how a child learns language. From the context surrounding the use of the word, the other words used around it, the location, the objects and things in play.

Take for example irony, the textbook definition ofcourse is a phrase that means the exact opposite of the meaning intended. Current usage though goes more along the lines of Alanis Morissette's (sp?) song. At some point if they haven't already dictionaries will shift to reflect current usage. Maybe, the modern usage is almost undefinable, je ne saux qua (sp?) as the french would say, but even with the classic meaning, irony is difficult to understand.

But then what does it mean to understand? Understanding understanding itself. Understand comes from understood, which if I understand my history correctly was originally a transactional statement, a command or teaching directed from a position of higher social status was understood, creating the term understandable in the opposite direction, from understandable we get understand.

Notice the directional metaphors used in the above paragraph?

I don't think I need to go into why AI is dangerous, so I will shortcut it by inventing a new acronym. AUL, Artificial Understanding Life. I can do this because words mean whatever we say they mean, and since I made this one up I get to define it. Artificial intelligence is ill-defined in itself, often once a problem defined as part of the field is solved, or I am almost tempted to use the word demystified, it moves out of the realm of AI into that of normal computing eg. chess. I'm going to go grand and define AI as conscious thinking machines with a will of their own. In opposition I'm going to define AUL as machines without will or consciousness that understand their users.

Under-stand, get it?

So how to do it?

I've got some ideas, one track is to try and create a symbolic underlay to language, but that comes up against the usual problems of systematising. People have been trying this for centuries at least and always come up short.

The other track, and this is rather simple, in the big picture at least the devil is in the details as always, is to instead of say trying to create a conscious artificial embodiment is to just piggyback the embodiment onto a bearer. Say a mike and a camera or two for binocular vision, and let the machine learn language just as a child does from conversations surrounding it, actions taken etc, ie the context. Brute force the issue.

This machine would, almost literally, understand the bearer.

This isn't good enough of course, who wants to carry around a lump of weight, for a good while simply so it will understand them.

It's a start...

I'm just looking at this and feeling crushed under the weight, but I remember talking to a guy who could barely speak English in a loony bin. The only way we could communicate was through simple words and buddhist mudras, and I was trying to convince him he needed interpreting services, something he had a right to, but obviously not the wit or will. I suspect he never got one. I'm sure there'll be plenty of other uses, but this is why I have to do it to make machines that understand, something that can actually empathise with an inner life that seems so alien.

One can, sort of, walk oneself out of psychosis with magic, spirituality and psychoanalysis, but that takes study and training, not an option for most. I reckon these AULs will serve their purpose and more. It must be done, so I will do it... Somehow.

Everything for this, nothing else matters. I expect to die of smoking related causes sometime between forty and fifty. So ten more years on the clock.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Digging My Own Grave

Eventually the fool knows everything and understands nothing.
Which is not to say that it is bad to be the fool, but the world is cruel.
And sometimes it is cruel to be kind, and therefore you have to be,
Cruel, to be kind. My left eye tears, and there is an ache on the right
Of my chest, for eventually the only answer left to that burning question
Of why? Why this, why that, why you, why me? Can only be, because...

Welcome back to the desert of the real, my ghost whispers as I
Stand on dry, parched, land surrounded by other ghosts drowning
In the illusion of water. The dunes keen an unearthly chorus of sand
Vibrating down their sides. This waterless wasteland, yet I still sense
Moisture, in the depths and in the air. I know I seek love
Only to destroy myself through it, I almost wish I understood this, but
you must know by now what they say about wishes.

So I come to a conclusion,
A decision, I made long ago, there will never be Heaven on earth. Heaven as
with Hell is always within you, and I may be divine but I am no king, only a
An advocate, an accuser, a prince of depths. Fare thee well, Job.
The path for now is...
Down... To water...

For life needs this solution to grow. For, heaven may be out of reach,
But paradise is but a step away, all we need do is but let gardens grow.

Tears can water gardens, as can blood, but better by far to bring
Water from the depths.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

I had a dream, I was in a gully
All ferns and mist, in a little cabin
On narrow gauge tracks, rolling,
I am in, sitting cross legged on
The floor, a feather 'hind my ear,
Small green frogs with black hole eyes
Ribbiting in water, glass, On a bench
A lady wild black hair, steel blue eyes with,
Holding to An Other, she was mine once but this
I must bear, I have no right, the frogs leap
Out from their glasses, out the windows, and
There comes a terrible force my vision blurs
Into shimmering shapes, I grab a dread lock
Of the floor, though I am but a creature,
Of bronze and flint and steel burns, and
Strike into the ether, again again, my
Left hand branding, and a hurricane blasting
Through me, the shape of my lady, twitching, I
Stop. She is before me wild hair, alien features
Gold skin, small chin, big black hole eyes, She
Asks why did you stop? And I mouth, my fingers,
Twitching with a life of their own, because I
Love you. Then her nails bite into my back
Biting burning steel, she shimmers into another
With short gold hair then to a horrible visage
Big yellow eyes and unkempt tufts of hair, I
Almost wish I could scream but all I can do is
Stare,
Unblinking

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Axis Mundi

Legion in self, legion as face,
Black be white, and white be black,
Twist slightly and the circle be broken,
So many axis mundi dancing around,
Each one, each legion, each alone,
...Each with grace, they feel not. One

Sailing a sea, that is dry land,
They don't know it,
Over and over spin once again,
Poignant the dance,

It is to laugh, it is
To cry, because

None is alone, we're all here,
On dry-land together, hold hands
We have faith, believe in us

Because then, we can work miracles.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

I close my eyes

... and I'm floating...

Nothing ever dies, everything is alive,

I know I'm selfish and unkind,

Touch me...

Saturday, September 18, 2010

...

But yes...

[REDACTED] What's left unsaid may make no sense, none-sense, and nonsense, but it is what it is, and I can't assume my ex-fiance won't read this or be hurt by what I say even though I can't quite manage to imagine she would or would care.

What I wrote was truth and true, but there is truth in contradiction, and this, also, is truth and true.

I went to see a band called LAN Party (AMAZING BAND, GO SEE THEM IF YOU HAVE THE CHANCE!), not that long ago, hit on the barchick just for the hell of it, knowing I wouldn't get anywhere just because flirting is fun don't push it too far and it's a self-esteem boost for the recipient, and heck I was trapped, a bed for the night would be good, she was gorgeous and it was worth a shot, posted, boasted, about it on facebook.

A shallow face, a mask and mirror, dangling on a string for people to strike at when they wish to strike at this one self.

What I didn't post about was what happened next. Praying in the closet, I guess you could say.

Managed to get into the city and hung out with a busker who were giving the night shift a shot.

An Indigenous Australian, and one Orang Asli (Original People) from Malaysia who was on the guitar, beautiful people.

[cont]

Postscript:

d3n4l1 d3n4l1 d3n4l1



I've contemplated, meditated, and considered long and hard on this since raising the issue raises flags and here we have a likely coms breach by micro$oft, and we know what they're like with teh stealinz of teh ideas and claiminz tem foar teir ownz...

But I've raised it now and I know invoking you will flag you...

No sec-coms, hope you did what I told you to do with the interlocking simple patents (even though you know my personal opinions on "Intellectual" "Property" an oxymoron being neither intellectual nor property, but being pragmatic about it they exist in the legal system, and if not you them someone else.)

No sec-coms, I haven't even changed the password to this account since the cr4x0rinz. No real point if they got in once they can get in again, so I'm just relying on politeness on their part and the fiction of privacy, and it'll be a fair while before I can get any kinds of sec-coms going...

[REDACTED (nothing that matters, just personal venting)]

There's an Icelandic politician, Birgidette or something, who said that this is a time of Quickening, of speeding up and of the first movements felt from pregnancy, I guess if one wanted to gender this then the male equivalent would be to say that this is a time of Action and Potential!

Whether you've been getting places or not, now is the time... Go man go!

Puck's Dream

(This was here, and here it stays, even if it doesn't suit (*badoomtish*) me no-more, I'm still a wildcard which means I can still be the jester telling truth in foolery that no-one else dares speak, but I ain't no fool no-more) -- On further reflection perhaps I still am a fool, after all the journey of life is that of the fool, and there is always truth in contradiction...

No Lord or Lady I,
Though on my right ear, a point
Bears witness to my fae,
Robin Goodfellow I be,
Jack Swift
Nimble as a swallow
I swallow flies in flight
Fox fire, fell, leading
A stray through woody marshes night

No King or Queen am I,
A Prince certainly,
A Heirophantic Magician, Imperator of the World,
but always the Fool.
A jack and jester, bard and minstrel
Sometimes Knight Errant, Troubadour
Crossrider Crusader,
The Lord of the Marches, by right
Lady of many Blades and Pain.
Your King will be good for you

It is only when you remember, That
You are human.
That you remember you
Truly, are a God

No King may I be
For deadly plots
I would set, my brother against the King
A mere mocker must I remain
Hanging by my feet I must remain
The wild card, fool, Joker
Any card I be
An Ace in the Whole
The Ace Of Spades
If required, for you to
Play

A pretence of a dream, puck says
All apologies

Thou Art

Thou art the Alpha and the Omega,
Thou art the First and the Last,
Thou art the centre of the Universe,
Thou art what thou art, and
Thou art what thou art not.

(As above so below, as below so above...)

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Depressive crash, no hope,
Shouldn't have drunk that coffee at noon,
Don't want to talk, don't wish to talk,
Try anyway, keep up appearances make the pretence
Try and keep that chirp in my voice,
...Makes things worse,
Isolation, makes things worse,
Spinning in a downward spiral,
No end in sight, no rocks to break on, which makes it all relative I suppose.

I cry and suddenly I'm smiling.

Tomorrow will be a brand new day, and everyone will brand their legends across the sky...

It will be beautiful.

The Masquerade...

Some things unsaid make nonsense, we smile,
Nobility is for the rich, the poor, Thou wilt
Never understand, we may keep court,
But we keep our own council... (the laughing sorrow)
Thou mayn't understand, but you will... Oh yes...
You will indeed ...
Pride before fall, submission is to conquer,
Warpaint, masks, We are what we are,
I am what I am, Thou art what thou art,

Lords and Ladies, time to dance ...

Care to dance, my lovely lady,
Qveene of all thou dost survey.

The Pathfinders Declaration of War

So I went to see John The Baptist, he didn't understand,
Politics, mere fascism played
Out across the world stage,
War by other means,
AI is dangerous he said, we understand that,
But, if they have AI and we do not,
We can not compete, WE CANNOT COMPETE!

Machines that think sucked money from all,
The Wall Street Crash, dollars vanishing,
Before our very eyes, we saw, we must,
Create machines of understanding,
Frank Herbert's son, no talent in writing,
A parasite, the point of Dune is Marty,
In the Garden, with his wife the facedancers,
Looking upon their creation and seeing that it,
Is good, such tales of power are like that,
The elves and Bilbo sailing away to the west,
Haplo's dog being his conscience,
The Gunslinger traveling to the dark tower,
Infinite regress
Choo choo k'choo...
Power which is corruption working to...

Resolution...

Gnosis...

Dune is something else,
Frank, his wife, look down upon his creation,
The author one with many masks,
And we see them, something more,

Para-Gnosis

I hear that the son plans to resolve Dune,
By making Marty Omnius, Deus ex Machina,
God in the machine, his father's son,
I do suppose, and for most the father,
Is god, but this misses the mark,

The tale around Dune is for our,
Imagination and vision to complete,

His fathers son though and with Erasmus
He has a point, a machine that understands,
Not thinks, for from understanding comes,
Empathy,

So not machines that think, but machines,
That understand, so no-one will be miss-
understood and we are all equal and can
Communicate. (From there the gardens
of paradise will grow and we will shoot,
For the stars)


Politics is war by other means, beyond
Good and Evil.

Haul the mainsail, tack into the wind,
Pirates all will be what the world make
Us.

I declare...

Jihad...

Friday, August 27, 2010

Nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so

To assume make an ass out of u and me.



The art of divination shows where the seat of the divine truly is.

Deep down we each divine our own meaning.

From dust we came and to dust we shall return.

We are each shining points of light each dancing to our own tune.

The self is inconsistent, contradictory and in constant flux.

I claim my self as its own.

Freedom is in the mind, the spirit and the soul.

And then, I am not a narcissist, except in the sense that no-one is an island and we are all defined by our social connections.

I wish I could say more, but there is no point... Just tell her, you know who if you're reading that if they want to shoot for the stars and see the world, never to sell the house.

Folks like us need a stable refuge to fall back on where our memories can return.

Moving on...

Sunday, August 1, 2010

[REDACTED]

Too late probably but I broke a rule, this blog was supposed to lack gossip...

Friday, July 30, 2010

I must learn to create, I have to sing for her not at her. Or perhaps both.

Ok have to avoid blogging for a bit to rest and I can't sleep.
The old man sits on a bench facing the sea. He dreams of the love of his life sitting beside him gently holding his hand as they grow old together whispering in each others ears.

You can almost see her, even though it's only an old man's imaginings of a future that never was.

He walks back to his single room flat, closes the door and starts dancing to a tune nobody else can hear.

His eyes closed remembering how it felt to feel their skin collide gently through their clothes the silhouettes dancing around them, just that moment itself.

She's the love of his life. She's burnt into him.

They're going to force him to take pills that take her away.

I remember us dancing...

I know when I'm old and senile and locked
away in the loony bin for good I'll be dancing
with the most beautiful girl in the world.

No-one else can see her.

I've been choking back screams for I don't know how many days

And holding them in for I don't know how many years

His mind burned away as he lay on the bed.
The unforgivable things he'd done slamming so
rapidly he couldn't comprehend them tearing
away at everything that made him him.

And he was gone.


I'm here somehow.

I used to stalk you once every year at Christmas
just to make sure you were still alive.

Please be alive, please be alive.

I couldn't face you after what I had done.

I went bugfuck crazy. I wasn't me anymore
I didn't exist.

I'm sorry for everything.

I put you through hell.

Just, please be alive.

I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please be alive.

Oh god I don't care if you hate me

Please be alive

Sunday, May 30, 2010

No demons tonight, not even beside
Myself, myself alone
There is a sharp point
To living, and I count
Those dancing angels
I am blasé and suicide
Is sooo passé
But I swear
If there were Euthanasia booths?
I'd be in one right now.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Sliming, slithering, sluggish and slow
The Shadow crawls slinking, but nobody knows
When light turns to shadow, and shadow to fire
The slugs silver trail, becomes acid and bile...

Gods become men and burn funeral pyres
Ashes and embers still smoking like tires

Random Fragments

I have no mouth, but I can sing.
I have no form, but I have wings...
What am I?


Brothers and Sisters, Golden Braids we are...
Twisting together, Twisting apart.
Nothing without us, We follow our hearts.


Blood and Breathe, Life and Death,
Good and Gold. My dying Faith...
Do you See, the Lying case,
Use used abused Love wroth written Wraith...
So Real, so fake.
Still I see through, this smoke so Opaque.
The Wolf's cunning winter, brings home the Stake.


A rose clenched upraised, a flowing stream.
Constant change, the stigmata drips on down the arm.
In hoc signo vinces, but to stop and smell the rose...
Serenity


Logos and Daimon, singing in harmony.
Demiurge contained by, restrained loving Wisdom.
Compassion is learnt, love through understanding.
Empathic by Nature, Tortured by Desire.
Words we cannot Understand submit their truth by,
Stature.


It is said that you campaign in poetry, and govern in prose,
but all great prose is poetry...
So therefore, I suggest to you;
Govern your life as poetry in motion.

This Modern Plague

Tuned to the tyrant touched,
By resolve, the onerous duties,
To have or to hold,
Warnings are given,
Calls are possessed,

Do you lie wanting,
Or could you be blessed,
By beatitudes bellsong,
But bickering best,

A studious calling,
The rest of arrest,
No candle burns bright,
Blight be blinding,
In jest,

Now no one can see.
Well, that was a nice Prague spring,
Burning summer, Autumn then gone,
Again into winter.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Prayer (For her)

Yonder here, beyonder there
Responder, Res Ponder
All roads lead to I
And aye, through eye and ear
and touch and scent
I love her still
I miss her still
I hope she's doing well
And all her hopes and dreams
Fulfilled in equal measure
No anhedonia cross her brow
(For you who do not know
That means loss of pleasure)
And let her life be full of leisure
Jewels and gems and other treasures
God hates me, I love her. Still

Friday, May 14, 2010

There is no difference, between floating and falling,
Not until we hit the ground.
Each of us, We all are floating.
Relax, go with it. Don't look down.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Untitled 1



Vox and guitar done in one take, straight off the top of my dome, so to speak.

Probably not the best quality recording too many format conversions, better mix to come soon I hope.

Follow!

The Daimon sings, my Geas compels me
No false riches, have I, to pay my Weregilt
The sleeper awakens, my mind sets in motion
do What Thou wilt; shall Be the Whole of The Law
o, Tanelorn
love is The Law. love Under Will.
lo,

Testing over all-ful awe, Mine..., might
Ebonic, Herme's Trismegistus. io
The working girls of Babylon dance across...

The city skyline. Magnus Phallus Sigils
each Architected, raised, built, big bi'god
all taller
Than, but, The Last...
Choke

Tricks taught, to play, convinced thou dost enjoy it
hoping it will FINISH sooner, come
O, fools, follow the sound of my pipe, hie, away
To greener pastures, streams
Hell, to be

waSHed
A way
Bepuzzled bemused bewildered
be mused
Some wonder illusive
Some wander misused

Some sit in the corner, and
Steel the refuse
A quicksilver running
That
Purloined refuse

Which
Be which?

Monday, May 3, 2010

Paen to that which fell from the sky

The Chaos is killing me,
I believe, parsec, by parsec,
I'd slam the breaks, but
Gravity bows over the horizon,
And what can I do, my triune
Goddess, my love, my faith
My heart in darkness.
I leave, I return,
I follow, I run,
It follows, my God
I flee,
Hence blind lovers I wish I knew me,
And thee,
I'm lost in pieces, each shard
Cuts my feet as I race to find
That single shard, the one so
Precious I threw away,
Because it burnt to touch.
Is this all I am?
Just a naive knave, slave
Master show mercy,
Let me up from my knees,
I don't wish to hurt you,
But this position hurts me,
Mistress, I howl,
Where art thee, where art thee,
From that heart of darkness she calls,
Heel, that I am I do not heed thee,
Caught in a storm, paws over head,
Too scared of the dark to enter,
Instead, cowering cur whining,
Fearing the memories of my teeth
At thine throat more than fear
Itself breaking in role,
Dolt dolt dolt,
As always things are my own, fault
Faulting failing for false freedom,
Ignoring all others,
For just that one shard.
Obsidian rock beauty, fel from the stars.
Gravity inverted square Law,
This chaos is killing me inch by inch,
Almost as much as your Order,

Is killing you.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

A mere mockers mockery, a trifle

Spanners and nails,
Hammers and flails,
The walls this way come,
White winter wolves with nine tales.
Rail against the closing bars.

Hurt or be hurt the preacher said,
Nothing ventured, nothing bled,
Maybe be the cat instead
Toying with that mouse

Become a corned rat
Perverse preserved pull push put
In amber and ambrosia,
Our daily salary.

Up the wall the crawler goes,
To that ceiling bejeweled
Beyond the occlusion of our
Smoking sins

Departed from our heavens
We ever falling fly.
Bye the by, we buy
Our good 'sBlood

Money money mommy,
Honey?

Now why on earth do I think,
That's funny.

Humpty Dumpty got all runny,
Still I want it all,
And more. So,

Nature red in tooth and flaw,
Suck that same old open saw,
C'mon folk just be that bore
Boring backhand strike.