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Archive for the ‘What people are’ Category

It can be hard to hold a conversation with someone else when your bud’s been hacked

In novelish, What people are on December 21, 2010 at 10:56 pm

“What did you say?” She said.

“Huh?” Rudd said.

“What?” said Rudd’s bud.

“I asked what you said,” she said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Rudd said to his bud.

“Huh?” she said.

“Wait,” Rudd said.

“Listen to me,” said Rudd’s bud.

“No,” Rudd said. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck off,” she said. “Fuck you.”

“No,” Rudd said. “Hang on.”

“What?” she said.

“You’re in danger,” said Rudd’s bud. “And so is she.”

“What?” Rudd said.

“Huh?” she said.

“Wait,” Rudd said. “Hang on—my fucking bud.”

“Your fucking bud might save your life,” said Rudd’s bud. “If you listen.”

“Fuck you,” Rudd said.

“Alright,” she said. “This is too jerked off. I’m out.”

“No,” Rudd said. “You’re in danger.”

“Huh?” she said.

“Good man,” said Rudd’s bud.

Rudd smacked his temple. “Shut the fuck up,” Rudd said, cupping his ear and turning away from her. “Seriously.”

“Bye,” she said. “You’re seriously messed up, dude.”

“No,” Rudd said. “I’m not—my fucking bud—it got hacked and now some asshole keeps talking to me and won’t shut the fuck up,” he said.

“Fuck you,” she said.

“No,” Rudd said. “Seriously, this is totally fucked and I’m sorry. Just listen.”

“What,” she said.

“You’re in danger,” Rudd said. Then like a confession, “I’m in danger,” he said. “We’re in danger.”

“How so?” she said. “By who?”

“I don’t know,” Rudd said. “But that’s what my bud told me.”

“Alright,” she said. “This is seriously too fucked. I’m out.”

Kurt Vonnegut tends to be right about a lot of stuff.

In Complaining, physics-nature-etc., Vonnegut, What people are on November 1, 2010 at 9:37 pm

I once got into a heated argument with a gentleman about the way the world is. A man of faith, he believed in evil and that man was capable of malice. I regarded this belief to be a product of close-mindedness, that he could not sympathize with unthinkable actions simply because he wouldn’t allow himself to recognize those acts for what I perceived them to be—unthinkable only in the worlds in which he and I exist. I argued that, less it crumble beneath its collective apathy, it is necessary for society to judge actions and punish those who waiver from established law, but I—who at that point could not envision killing a man under any circumstances—would not believe that someone who did so, did so for any other reason than it was his or her best interest.

In other words, a man does what he does because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, based—of course—on the given circumstances. And doing what you think is right is the opposite of evil.

In even other words, my argument was that if a man does something unthinkable, it is because we haven’t imagined the world in which he lives.

Anyways,

Part of the real truth is that he was being close-minded for steadfastly refusing to allow this as a possibility. And part of the truth is that I was being close-minded for steadfastly refusing to believe there’s evil in the world.

I now know the full truth: A person is never evil, people are always evil. Like Kurt Vonnegut said.

Remember:

Self-destruction is the antagonist of selfishness, and selfishness is the purest form of good.

How The Journalist feels about his lack of motivation.

In non-fantastical, novelish, What people are on October 14, 2010 at 6:03 pm

In an earlier life, I constantly battled against the feeling that my life evolved in a series of events and actions I undertook, if only to prove that I could live a prosaic existence. At no point did any particular thing define my life, and—if I had ever been asked—I would have been extremely hesitant to acknowledge that my being was the sum of any of its parts.

I belonged, no doubt, and I produced—somewhat—but only because I willed myself to have that impulse. In other words, my motivation—my ambition—was, more or less, a choice.

Now I stand before god almighty, and I proclaim unto thee that I am not a machine, I am not programmable, that I am everything that I will ever be and, forevermore, shall accept.

If I lack ambition, it is because I do not care enough about the end. If I lack motivation, it is because I have not set my goals high enough.

I am my own engine, and I will puff and huff when I reach a hill worth climbing.

Why you should make a fuss about things.

In Complaining, novelish, What people are on October 13, 2010 at 8:50 pm

Brenda’s real name wasn’t Brenda, but she went by “Brenda” because it was easier for everyone to pronounce. Introverted and bookish, Brenda generally did the best she could to stay out of everyone’s way. The worst possible thing to be in the world, she believed, was an obstruction. The world was a tide pool, and her role was to keep things as calm as she could.

The only decent way to live, she thought, was to let everyone else live as they wish—and to never, ever complain. She went great lengths to ensure that, if she had occupied a room, that she left it exactly as it had been. She never took anything from anyone, only asked for something if it was a dire matter of clarification, and only walked across the street when it was perfectly clear that no cars would slow on her account and no person would have to move out of her way.

She lived by herself, kept to herself, and when someone tried to start up a conversation, she’d smile and put her head down—unless really pressed, in which case she would say as little as possible before changing the subject back to silence.

And she did such a good job at all of this that she lived her entire life without anyone ever bothering to care that she existed.

Two thoughts:

In Ancillarious, physics-nature-etc., What people are on October 5, 2010 at 9:23 pm

When stuck outside in a rainstorm and without an umbrella, the safest place to be is wherever you are, accepting of the circumstances that, yes, it is raining, and, yes, you will be getting wet. There is no point in fighting the elements you do not control, and there is no point in regretting that you had not foreseen unforeseen circumstances.

You will get wet and you might even get cold.

***

Something I’ve been thinking about:

Power is directly proportional to the leverage one entity has over another.

Force of will and manipulation can encourage people to act, but ultimately, if one does not have the means to act on their threat, then they have no one to threaten. Conversely, if one has nothing to be threatened, then he or she is at the mercy of no one.

Yes—this applies to work and life and relationships. Yes—this applies to larger entities like countries and corporations and law.

On puppetry.

In What people are, Writing on September 30, 2010 at 7:56 pm

I don’t know anything about puppetry. I imagine, though, that the craft is measured by the master’s ability to convince his audience that his puppets are real—that they are characters in a story or actors in a play, that they are sentient, capable of their own being, self-aware, and as in tune with their own destiny as you or I. I imagine that the craft is measured by the master’s ability to convince his audience that he doesn’t exist.

Or at least allow them to forget, if only for a moment.

How bizarre.

…however, defining “it” might be troublesome…

In Ancillarious, What people are on September 27, 2010 at 7:57 pm

It wasn’t about love or affection or caring or respect—it was about sanity. It was about knowing what was going on, in his life, in her life, in life in general. About knowing what to expect—or rather, knowing what not to expect. Or rather, ruling out possibilities. Or rather, shifting things from grey to maybe or mayhaps. It was about being able to organize thought, to plan ahead—if only by a half-step, and not even knowing for certain if it was forward or backward—about trying to make the best choice in the now, in what is said, in what is done, in what is had. Ambivalence isn’t apathy, isn’t indecision, isn’t agnosticism, not atheism. Ambivalence is active, it’s caring about not caring.

A bit about Rudd

In Ancillarious, novelish, physics-nature-etc., What people are on September 20, 2010 at 9:30 pm

There were a number of times, in particular, when Rudd seriously considered killing himself.

Most recently, he stood 65 floors above the empty sidewalk, looking out over a balcony that’s railing eyed, flirted, teased, seduced him. He wasn’t depressed or angry or even annoyed. He wasn’t worried or tense or stressed or numb. Moreover, he was curious what it would be like to fall, to let go, to be bound only by gravity, and to know that, for once, one’s fate is truly, utterly, determined.

Perhaps, then, in this sense, the act of jumping to his death was less about the end as it was about the means. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t considering killing himself as much as he was considering the act of jumping.

Or falling.

That it would end with a splatter was ancillary.

He wasn’t scared, and that’s what made him—on a wholly different level, a far more self-aware, less-instinctual level—a bit nervous. His brain, fighting instinct against instinct grew tired, and the prospect of jumping became less interesting and more terrifying, if only slightly so. He decided that the best thing to do might be to go back inside.

He wondered how people could survive living so high above the ground, always tempted by the sense that destiny was just a lift and a kick away.

More on Gray Matter

In nature, What people are on September 16, 2010 at 8:23 pm

In the theme of grays, if there’s a line between what we deem to be sane and insane, it is both thin and blurry and—more often than not—a product of whether or not we deem action or person to be productive or counter-productive.

A counter-product, inhibition, threat, or malcontent that hears voices in his head has a severe psychological disorder, often forcibly treated with medicine. A product, story, artist that hears voices in his head is creative or inspired.

Sympathy, we believe, is intimately appreciating others’ thoughts, feelings, emotions—a sure sign of sanity. But we sympathize through inner-dialogue, questioning how we might react if in others’ shoes. This inner dialogue, no doubt, is only voices in our head.

And furthermore, sympathy is not conditional to the other—it’s only based on our own personal experience. So, if sympathy involves unadulterated understanding, it’s surely impossible unto itself, since no two people ever experience the exact same set of conditions.

So, in that sense, someone who truly believes himself to be sympathetic must lack a level of rationality that allows him to appreciate his life is different from all others’—therefore, someone who believes himself to truly be sympathetic in this sense is out of touch with reality, quite literally insane.

Selfishness, we believe, is a social disorder, not sharing toys, pushing other people around because they just so happen to be in the way. But selfishness is nothing but the expression of doing what’s best for oneself—surely an instinct in the spirit of the strongest will survive. If we do something that’s perceived as selfless—or, at very least, not selfish—we do it because we view it as ultimately good for us, because we want our progeny to live in a better world where their opportunities to better our genes are better than our chances were.

Or, more simply, we do good because it feels good.

So, truly, someone who acts selflessly in the face of good or survival is essentially going against what it must truly mean to exist.

And what is that, if it is not insanity?

…and I feel like I’ve mentioned all of this before…

CHAPTER TITLE — “Number 16″

In Ancillarious, Kilgore Trout, novelish, What people are on September 15, 2010 at 6:32 pm

Shortly before everything went up in a ball of fiery molten hell, a poll was conducted by the Census and Statistics Authority that, ostensibly, was intended to find out how the government might better spend intranational defense funds.

At least insofar as the public eye was concerned.

In a poll distributed to nearly 3,500 consenting adults, auditors asked a number of preliminary questions ranging from socioeconomic status to education to knowledge of current events.

They even asked what brand of bud they wore.

Then, they were given a list of fifteen potential ways that the world might end. Number 16 was “Other.” Below that was the question “How?” and a few blank lines for free response, at the bottom of which was a small line of text reading “If more space is required for response, please write on another sheet and attach.”

Respondents were then asked to rank the cataclysms in terms of perceived likelihood.

The results of the poll and the implications therein were disputed within media for weeks. Many respondents failed to rank “Other,” while others ranked “other” without giving explanation of what “other” might be. Others misunderstood the intent of the “How?” and wrote, instead, explanations of why they ranked such and such wherever or discussed what they were thinking about or feeling or, simply, “Because.”

Many people in media pointed to the vagueness of the poll, discussing it as just another failure of a malarkey administration, another failure of a corrupt government entity, an indication of a broader public ignorance or a general disregard for testing in the schools, another reason the CSA is unreliable, etc.

The results became a punchline. Extra terrestrial alien invasion was third. God was fifth.

Incidentally, media called the poll “The End Day Survey.” Its actual name: “Public Poll A039281-29: Requested By The Department Of Defense At The Urging Of The Secretary Of Intranational Defense.”

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