Doing the Unstuck
Mar. 31st, 2004 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oneirophreniaIdaknow...I've been feeling pretty shitty for the past two days. Not horrible, mind you--I've often felt much, much worse--but I'm not at all happy right now. Luckily, I know the reasons behind this sophtware slump and I can now begin editing them permanently out of my programming, since (for once!) they are all well within my power to excise.\
Simplification is the order of the day: the Zen Buddhist ideal of shrugging off all wanting and not wanting, and becoming entirely pristine and clear as a mechanical switch, kinetic energy flowing in and out nonstop and unimpeded by any overly-convoluted logic gates, stimulus/response...not one stimulus out of place, nor any response. The Platonic Ideal of the mechanical cell.
I'm working hard to become, in Herbie Hancock's words, "the Perfect Machine"--but not some kind of incredibly complex, quantum-processing supercomputer that can multitask a billion things at once (which is what I sure as hell was for the past six months, and I can't even begin to tell you how tiring that is).
I'm thinking more along the lines of a simple Victorian automaton, a coin-operated boy if you will: for every denomination dropped in, you'll get a certain set reaction that involves no thinking, no wanting, no dreaming, no expectations, no hopes, no fretting, no wondering, no consideration, no thought at all.
I have found the Zen ideal I've striven for in the last months perfectly embodied in the concept of the clockwork man. Time to once and for all throw out the last of the messy organics and all their mindboggling, hormone-and-instinct-fueled bullshit and replace them all with beautiful, highly-polished gearwork...much as in that dream I had several months ago, in which the facade of the world peeled away to reveal all the gummed-up, rusted Babbage-works that make existence so damned incomprehensible. I, on the other hand, wrenched open my chest and found nothing but well-oiled motors and pendulums, ticking away pleasantly with a minimum of motion and no management whatsoever.
I think I'll go and listen to Doubting Thomas' "Clocks," now.
Simplification is the order of the day: the Zen Buddhist ideal of shrugging off all wanting and not wanting, and becoming entirely pristine and clear as a mechanical switch, kinetic energy flowing in and out nonstop and unimpeded by any overly-convoluted logic gates, stimulus/response...not one stimulus out of place, nor any response. The Platonic Ideal of the mechanical cell.
I'm working hard to become, in Herbie Hancock's words, "the Perfect Machine"--but not some kind of incredibly complex, quantum-processing supercomputer that can multitask a billion things at once (which is what I sure as hell was for the past six months, and I can't even begin to tell you how tiring that is).
I'm thinking more along the lines of a simple Victorian automaton, a coin-operated boy if you will: for every denomination dropped in, you'll get a certain set reaction that involves no thinking, no wanting, no dreaming, no expectations, no hopes, no fretting, no wondering, no consideration, no thought at all.
I have found the Zen ideal I've striven for in the last months perfectly embodied in the concept of the clockwork man. Time to once and for all throw out the last of the messy organics and all their mindboggling, hormone-and-instinct-fueled bullshit and replace them all with beautiful, highly-polished gearwork...much as in that dream I had several months ago, in which the facade of the world peeled away to reveal all the gummed-up, rusted Babbage-works that make existence so damned incomprehensible. I, on the other hand, wrenched open my chest and found nothing but well-oiled motors and pendulums, ticking away pleasantly with a minimum of motion and no management whatsoever.
I think I'll go and listen to Doubting Thomas' "Clocks," now.
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Date: 2004-04-01 01:24 am (UTC)I think something is in the air.
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Date: 2004-04-01 05:10 am (UTC)