Power, Performance, Panopticon

 So I am sitting down with someone assessing matters of Deleuze and Foucault it would seem, which isn't this inherently underhanded matter, though I fancy the assumption. Meaning, matters of critique in relation to the performative interest me. That is, I was among the collegiate debate at a time when NYU, Fort Hayes, and to a lesser extent, I was in a half-dedicated way, experimenting, while researching. Like art in relation to power, the performative is a critical matter in relation to formations of panopticon network, ever expanding among cameras and smartphones. Rockefeller gave a warning shot to me directly among our discussions over a short period of time, and yet, I just don't think anyone could follow what I was working on. It's not this matter of intending on winning as some victorious glasshouse figurine, merely caught up in ego. Rather, this would be a pattern among western culture, of these oscillations, these interactions between innovative interests and commercial interests, between fall-in-line, and create out-of-the-needed-box of sorts. So there wouldn't be this matter of antagonism or a need for enemies, regardless of the other. Rather, I'm just someone who isn't afraid to go at it, incessantly. Like Napoleon Dynamite, I've got skillzzz. I can mind fuck everyone, much like my band mates in the Slow Club era would note. It's an abstraction existence, much like among sterility, like the first hours of work, my eyes simply glaze among the sobering nothing. I like it. Like pickled ginger, it cleanses the mindful pallet to reconsider the whirlwind of creative endeavor, of this imagination play, of this key to learning, translating into interesting results. Of which, among hardened positionings the embrace reads like McBaise, of drain these waters always. I'm not so concerned. Rather, I am remaining toward cultural interest and this relation between power, performance, and panopticon. NYU, among the performative, of non-conventional approaches, won that year at both national tournaments with Zizek. Not to say it meant much. It didn't, but it was neat. The performative became this veil to the panopticon veil, that all teams realized, when dealing with a team immersed in the performative, there was little chance, even when everyone attempted to take on networked approaches, like sharing expando files. I think though, even though one offer the veil to the networked-veil, much like I can offer performatives of writing, performatives for the camera, for the ears and eyes, veiling as they observe, that still would offer a simple neutralizing form. It's not enough in relation to addressing the tower of the panopticon and opening society toward needed changes that stimulate needed developments, commercially, institutionally, and culturally. Living, that pulse. that dynamic resides, only when we serve as agents of change, otherwise we are merely looking living and hardening among a safe, sterile, predictability. I'm an 80s kid. I want to reside in a society with a pulse, among people, even among everyday society, out of their cell, interacting between, expressing in a meaningful way, rather than as snowflake spirits stuffed into meat bodies. Aristotle doesn't really get it for me, anyhow. So yes, even in New Orleans, Chicago, and the like...you want the panopticon abraision? I wonder why?  How could this be used, for which Foucault is useful, in relation to that play. Give the order of the sun a burst, into the performative, into the narrative computation, of the newer institutional design, that minds cultivated by static medium, will by design, subject to. We have been here before, of which the artistry opens the cells and a renaissance commences, of a living that entices those of the tower to mingle, eventually, though not likely of my stubborn generation. Rather, the buddings, who can push matters much further, have the instrumentation they need, to do what is expected of western society, to continually utiliize what is needed to open the societies up, among the given tradition, this seat of power, that the performative in relation to the panopticon feed into. That is the panopticon isn't power at all, rather it's a pressure play, that can do well, in intensifying a creative type to drum up the needed instrumentation. I wouldn't see this as a failure for anyone, if we think about the patterns, throughout periods of western society. Still, when the panopticon continues, which doesn't have to involve in direct measure of power, but networks and the everyday level, in-need of being their own panopticon pressure, I'll perform in just the right way, within that context of Foucault. Which I imagine with the youth discussing how Deleuze and Foucault's concepts compare, which would serve as fallacy when we consider Deleuze's thoughts on discussing philosophical thoughts in the first place, still, the inquiry, can be that play, to somehow get at pretending one knows not of what a network does, even as one utilized the performative to veil to those veiling. This life is a lot like the American Gladiators, of meat puppeteers, of scripted cheering, of personas that are not even real. The contestants, are simply sought out in relation to what could be potentially weak in relation. Meaning, I used to sit at the TV and watch the show while my sister made fun of me for watching it, and yet, there was a lot there about our human existence and life experience. I think of the Gladiators of ancient times as well. We are taught to runaway from things it seems, like sex, drugs, and rock, once upon a time, now fully embraced at your local hot topic, if those even exist. Then, comes this new message to runaway from struggle, and join in among a network that can make everything just as it needs to be. The entire matter is one and the same, choose on the basis of fear, on the basis of your sentiment, so the meat machine can hold you as an encased soul. It's absurd, as if Plato's conception for example couldn't be? This psychological panopticon playing the same tune, to embrace a pulseless society, to celebrate the tower of panopticon, and yet, that wouldn't be western tradition, and there would be a cost in relation to the behavior. There are new things happening that feed into key avenues that hold interests for people. Libriatics, regardless of how we want to critique, which is inevitable, demonstrates that we haven't done it all, there are these matters that need to be developed, of which when the innovation comes through, those in a position to begin the commercial process have a responsibility, if there is any sense of that now. I say this, as I take note of the continuing panopticon, the continuing orientations in relation to my writing, all attempting to deflect what would be required to even hold a meeting of the mind, which would involve debates in relation to informatic methodology, which a colonial mind, of this language form I am using, couldn't actually respond to such activities of a language working from a dynamic form of arrangement, by design. 

We'll see! If it is simply the irrational mind that is now to have their day in the fall of Rome rendition of a repeat, then it doesn't matter what I did, or how I challenge matters, I can simply be erased, or at least more veil to networked veil play will occur, as the performative raises to the networked performative. If we are holding to what was of the behaviors involving western tradition, then the innovative activities do matter, including ensuring there is respect for someone who drums this matter up; which would mean, this keeping tabs culture, among utilizations of a smartphone, would be a disruptive measure to American society, of which that ability and activity would be focused on and strictly limited, and violations punished.  It's all new though, so I wouldn't harbor anger, even if the performative, among polemics, among the show the cameras, the eyes and ears, desire, as they incessantly follow, is more than will to offer the failing success for the successful failings. When you need to be empowered in that way, and in relation to activities that were the actual result to western success; when you can skip the books and join in on a network's irrational treatments, then it seems, especially in relation to me, you are on your way, and I, a mere waste, and yet in terms of actual tradition, seems like I've been doing what is needed. 

It's not my place though to determine, so in the meantime...ART! Check out the art section of the site. As for the colonial heads gunning still, maybe one day when there is rigor to those noggins, they can finally get matters of narrative computation and dynamic language. Will it happen, at this rate of the Rise of Rome play in the West, there is serious doubt. When you can even offer modelings, and yet still, there isn't this out of the colonial waters moment, of realizing ones language among their "headspace" is of a static cultivation, now of a defunct institutional form, and I can judge that. It's a transitioning hell, to challenge what you know with, including dismantling underlying assumptions never challenged, toward something that once interacting with the matter, your relation to the society shifts, and I think this is for the better, considering the newer capacities that emerge from it, of which our existing commercial and institutional forms will not be able to compete or even respond to such power. It's coming. The cats out of the bag, so eventually, that matter will take on some form of fruition. What that will be, I'm not sure, but again, in the meantime, check out the art. For one of the projects, in a way that is intended to be, simply a fun take on a newer institutional form library, I'm using informatic models in relation to Deleuze to inform art themes. 

 In terms of influence, among our age of controversy, of a play of colonial context, I am happy to feed into these matters, again of a performative veiling in relation to panopticon veiling, and yet, once the newer institutional form is taken into account, of narrative computation, the meaning, is entirely unexpected.  And there are positive influences among this path taken, and recently, since I like considering the conepts of other artists, Tyler the Creator, is certainly inspiring my responses to the tabs on the phone crowed, that like to hover around us, the hyper creative ones. Not as hatred but rather, veiling to the veil, the nondisclosures encountering the performative, of the activities aiming to gut out the creative process, such as reference 1, reference 2, reference 3 (MGMT), reference 4 (McBaise), reference 5 (McBaise).  

Panopticon Flow

And when you are a network with phones, testing...enter Cuba's panopticon, of the way of emphasizing the citizenry no longer, as the very act assembles the irrational agency associated with cosmetic authority. It's a shame what's happening to America, all the time, and yet, there is a cost to the behavior which is associated with all the terrible repeats of his-tory by design. It's something I did with polemics, but this is the bridge, so this isn't that. Rather, even today, it's that lose-lose bind, of understaffing to absurdity, and let the network with cell phones keeping tabs, waltz in with plenty of questions (among a holiday rush crowed), so all can tank your department, which is a loss, or of course, one can clap back and keep matters afloat, which too can be used to cherry-pick anecdotes and run with characterizations. Again, a lose-lose can be power for a certain value system driving the networked play. The Panopticon is the lose lose. Good or bad, the eye, like the Ronald Firbank book openly embracing subhumanism, sets the irrationalizing embodiment, targeting, people of process into a lose lose, where regardless of what they do, the eyes will command the one to be subject to networked play...unless....Unless....you are the artist, of a production that presents to the eye. Then that counters to the lose-lose bind intended, by those dolled up in the mirror, and yet, orienting toward those on a margin in ways where it is clear what's going on. The nice-nothing entitlement on the surveil the other plan, and the other, on the "she bleeds" plan, which without the counter to the despotic axiomatic, the language lent, can be used in ways that are violent, to be sealed tight behind institutional walls.  She bleeds, isn't as "nice" it would seem, in terms of the glasshouse, fully sipped up crowed. Yet, to be an artist, would certainly require these processes, these flows, these ways of connecting in a dynamic, interactive sense, and yet among our society, it is the institutionalize movent of developing one's endogenous growth in such a way that the transform into a block of ice, or if one doesn't like to play with words on a page, they can watch the TV, of story upon story, without cohesion, until all is irrationally on fire. It's fire and ice, with no in-between it seems. The Panopticon doesn't have to worry so much about the fire, among the TV crowed. They destroy themselves. Rather, there are the reader types, the intellectual types, the one's even considering the inner-workings of a grid system, that become an threat of interests, and so the new day for the panopticon, via our fine smart phones, has come into play. There hasn't be any regulation, so it is an all out free for all, in terms of civil society incarceration, via networked play, and without any measures to ensure it doesn't happen. It's happening for sure, but okay, it's more of a time to pretend today I think. So we pretend. For me, I'm simply the curious cat to all of this, to observe, the folks empowered by the smart phone play. Tight lipped, and yet those non-verbals at play. I don't really care about it too much. That is, I'm not so paranoid over some measure of one being out to get me, though, the behavior itself is certainly destructive to the basis of citizenry. Much like to be the "guy" in a panopticon prison, where there remains that push for a play of psychology that intends on propping up cosmetic authority. Where one is to experience the encounters with a surveil team in such a way where there is to be an exposure and veil. Where the watch tower is keeping notes for those who are in their cell behind bars. I think if you write, or if you keep to yourself, it's an easy feat for team panopticon. However, for the artist, for any matter of flow, not well contained behind bars, there becomes this instrumentation that by design, deflects the construct of the panopticon, as the self-motioning of the artist, the process, indicates, what the irrational file-stack cannot, of one deriving happiness not from the panopticon network, but rather from something that isn't so materialized, or in-need of a network's play of dirt empire. I think of this in relation to behaviors in the US that have paralleled Pre-WWII Germany, where there was surveillance, note taking, book keeping of people, their movements in everyday civilian life, that could be used, all of course involving anecdotal methods of construct, even if dolled up as "systematic." I think of the artists who before the holocaust were killed in CO2 chambers in the name humane care, to help those who can't help themselves. It's always the artists who the panopticon guns for. To work the panopticon doesn't have to keep tabs on everyone. They can't!  They just need to hone in on someone on a design, likely without much a network to push back in relation, that can endure the treatments, and respond to the abrasions in a way that achieves panopticon psychology. It works among these words, so long as the relationship to the language remains in an established, colonial position, and there isn't a visual to counter the surveilled play, including axiomatics, in an unsaid way.  In short, if the threat is painting Mickey Mouse, we all know who then is full of it.  The oddity of this, would be when one doesn't have a record, or a superb academic record, it wouldn't matter, as the axiomatic, and the good word among the axiomatic, can still be used to solicit irrational minds in supporting, until there is a visual cue, to where minds, of irrational ease, sober up, and take note of what counteracts the deceit fed to them by "upright" "professional" personalities.

 

Again, it's not a polemic, and I do consider this a part of the bridge, in that there is a conceptual consideration, of a life among the Panopticon, in a cell, drying up the process, and then to take note of someone putting on a show in their cell. Someone, where the officers recognize quickly this isn't someone who is an actual threat, but the artist, addressing the panopticon network. This is the cosmetic play, that wants to use us to establish measures tied to totalitarian regime, the grouping, that like a particular column, would like to see the kids at heart destroyed, and their toys upon their own grave stone. When everyone can be plastic or else? Strive, race among your plastic brethren. Hold it down in such a superficial way, as a group guts the life out of any societal arrangement. Then again, the artistry always manages to reiterate the value-system of process, to raise awareness, of these matters intending on orienting minds to the surface, to dry matters up, until there is nothing left, including human value that our economic activity veils. Still, for a time, mesmerized by the mirror play, enjoying the panopticon life, the stack-file duty, eventually, especially among the artistry, a synapse occurs, and these matters of ancient agency re-emerge into a socializing consciousness, and these underhanded games cease. There becomes this cognizance of where we are headed among these so-called victors carrying on as if they painted a blue sky blue. To me, conceptually, it's the one in their cell, that has been putting on a show, first among themself. Then, eventually the creativity grows, where one has a set of skills that open one up to these processes, of which then those enforcing among the panopticon recognize the psychology at play, now juxtaposing with the show, of which those of the process are released, able to dance and create, full circle among their respective floors. The members of the tower take notes, collect, and continue to take their aim, and yet, that process running through, far greater than the aim a network does all to embody, juxtaposes, raising a challenge. To document the process, when one doesn't even have a rigor of process among themselves, of hypocritical and ignorant measure. It doesn't work. It never has. The artist, by design, becomes the nemesis for those of irrational agency, doing all to repeat, to a point where in the early stages of this, a grouping follows to target artists at all costs. Hold to the isolation, hold to the embodiment, and yet, such fine plays of isolation is mere breeding ground for the intensity of creative flow that destroys the panopticon network. 

 

With art, there can be this play of all eyes on the process, which doesn't help a network doing all to cultivate all eyes on the embodiment, to place one into question, on the basis of what can be embodied, characterized, so long as one can stack the file enough. A lot of good people have been destroyed behind institutional walls with that play, even when they have good records. There's power, among associations with the panopticon, and yet, it will always remain vulnerable to the power of artistry. The visual articulating the rigor. The visual articulating the inner-desires, which by design, would be oriented toward one's process, which wouldn't be a threat at all to anyone. Even as they openly express their sour grapes to the panopticon network, looking the upright part, and yet on that underhanded play. The process of artistry, the process of mindful rigor translated into visual design, eventually spin what a group intended to come around to the one they target, into a go around that amplifies as they fail to hold the rigor to even respond what is exhibited for all to see. The guards in the tower, can't embody, if the process immerses, meeting at the visual, and then dismantling underhanded assertions, all of which rely on flawed, racist, methodology. To be a nice guy, of direct assertions, as a group stacks a falsified file of anecdote, of a groups quick text to a moment that could be collected, one morsel at a time, of  racist construct. Artists can catch the play, and can certainly feed into the group activity, to offer the panopticon momentum, the come around, so the art can fire the go around right back at them. Hell is an art form away for the no hell in sight. From the dark ages to a renaissance...he attempts to dry up the womb of which he arrived, and she bleeds. She wins every time, but we can always strive.  There is a lot of humor to this activity at this point. It's stupidity. It's ignorance, dolled up as otherwise. Stupid embracing stupid in the mirror, so let them bask in the light of their time. They are destined to their successful failure.  With surveillance, they can be the universal. With material they can possess something among this rock spinning around fire. Have it all loves. You have file stacking and concrete assemblages. I have art and multiplicities. I have expression in the moment, as I bleed, and you have silence for an eternity, as you keep it tight. I'm interested in my art, so why so interested in me, to the point of outright surveil. I've been told by this group I'm a nice guys, so why not mean it? Maybe, I should embody as nice, to embrace the body as a cell, rather than a receptor; or maybe, I should break the glass when the panopticon is a bit too enthusiastic of my work in such a superficial manner. Artistry wouldn't actually desire endorsement. Rather, one remains oriented toward their process, and despises when networked measures aim to disrupt that, even in the name of "support."  To cultivate the process only to embrace those who aim to gut out the process, wouldn't make such since for one's artistry, so let her bleed. Express in a way that wouldn't be of mere sentiment, but rather of challenges even to those of actual systematic methods.  Find that Panopticon Flow, when the embodied play, into a cell, isn't a threat or a concern, of one with the rigors and skills to open up the cell, and to cultivate a process full circle, to assert measures, that even axiomatic play couldn't counter. Be free, in a substantial sense, and put on the needed show where those in the tower hop out to join festivity, the renaissance, of a new dynamic opening up, of what the West once was.  The irony is there isn't this disdain for the panopticon, but rather the tower lights up, and the artistry is ready for a show, following what a nicety would mean, of which matters of process respond. So one is to be a sweetheart and nice, like a child, and yet, that wouldn't be possible in relation to matters of rigor, so the artist, drops trow, and then spreads their production on a wall in a design that disrupts the eyes to the surface and the superficially nice play. There can be something interacting between, rather than something stuffed in a meat body, in-need of saving. A body doesn't have to be a cell, so spread the productions at a level that keeps the mindless meat machine at bay, which requires orienting eyes back toward the rigors of mindful process. Design is everything, when considering the play of colonial power.  Live as a process. Design as a process. The eyes have their tabs on you, bleed out, embody poorly, step out of the cell, then spread onto the walls, to display among the eyes matters unexpected and new.  The challenge alone usurps that absurd colonial form, that intends on violent repeat. It doesn't happen when brilliant thinking emerges, which simply must, go unacknowledged among personalities too proud to ever come around as the go around chases them right down the panopticon stairs and straight out the door. It's simply a matter of time, as this entire pattern has happened before. Material is no match for the innovative processes.  She always returns.

Not as some us-them victory, but rather, the interests invests into what becomes a mutuality, by design, not likely, by the generations caught into a dichotomy of their time, but the newer groupings, that have yet to even opt into some kind of panopticon induced rigor mortis. There can be a differing approach and a sound reception of newer form that could improve matters.  A dead leaf, will simply feed the budding greenery at best, if one gets it, but if a glasshouse, all measures taking root, would remain encased. There would be no getting anything other than a delusion of one's trajectory as the guiding force, among a budding that finds silent humor in these successful failures, guiding the way toward the sky and sun, as if their emergence wasn't a consequence of an already given.  Actual influence, would never be on the stage, and far removed from the gloss of a manufacturing lie. One, considering the ebbs and flows of this life, actually concerned with influence, in a way that actually helps their society, would be very much focused on and in-tune with this youthful budding, of a group that doesn't need a spectacle but newer instrumentation, newer cultural forms, of substance, rather than show, which takes a lifetime to produce, so the sourcing, of actual help, would be the responsibility of the group before them; But when everyone can be their own Marilyn in the mirror, who has time to uphold the very measure that has resulted in what we have from the previous generations. 

Meaning, this is the consideration, of how those who left the panopticon tower from a previous movement, all find mutual interests, among the hallways, as the cells open up and people embrace an interactivity between, and yet, that interaction dries up. Soon, all return to cells, and the residents of the tower return. So when I consider the generational dynamic, this is what I mean, of the interactivity stagnating. When the generation before, attempts to hang the stars and moon, paint the blue sky, for the younger generation, to attempt for everyone to play it by the numbers, to play it nice, safe and sound, to encase matters as mere embodiment, to return to the panopticon tower, that hand off to the newer generation, marks the generation before. I'm just not into this notion that everything has been done before, even when my own work, exhibits it has not all been done, nor am I into this notion that the fading to grey personality on stage is the actual focus for what is needed. Again, there is a budding, of which actual influence is very much focused on handing off, not an all been done scenario, but rather newer form that changes a lot that a younger group can pick up and push matters toward further development. We'll see. It's a story of time really, far removed from the hopes of individualizing ego, and entirely omitted from the superficial hollowing of glasshouse ambitions and utopic futures aiming to distract among the rootless spectacle.

 

For fun, cross-apply the panopticon inc vid, and dead kids on a playground with dancing officers, and Ramones simulacra rat race.  It could be gestalt, then again, it could be a consistency of patterns in relation to written record.

J.R. Grey Beard, Same Haircut

Strangers, than fiction? I have no words. There is someone looking after the Red Baron, now Grey. The playhouse. The pool. The snacks. The gesture was very much appreciated. The brilliance of the moment, noted. Still, I was born into something entirely violent and ignorant. I have to fight the matters related to me, to address something that could go very wrong for a lot of people. I have to do this, and it is beyond measures depressing. I simply wanted to be with someone, and it wasn't going to happen. I know who he is. Where is he? J. R. knows who he is. I can die alone just fine. Where is he? I never let him go. He stays with me regardless. Does he even get that?  And it wouldn't be this universal type of matter, as the very sensation, of our disappearing act together is overwhelmingly present each moment we share, at a distance, far, far, away, among the mirror, and yet, underlying the illusion of it all. I think of an image, to figurines, reaching outward, looking, pig-tales tied to each other, pivoting outward, seeing poignantly as the sensation grips the blindness. I think of new college, the checkered floor, though of some grand measure. Walking. Footsteps. Hollow echoes. Moments can be shared for a fleeting moment, but never to encounter each others echoes. We are on the rock. Spinning around a ball of fire. We could pretend to hold each other for this moment, but again, this is a disappearing act. How we connect, mysterious and uncertain, even if promoted otherwise. Our responsibilities, never among these distortions, but rather ingrained. I wouldn't cling among the assertions of such notions. I wouldn't need to survive, that is. None of us survive if we are being brutally honest with each other.  We can consider, we can assert, we can hold a basis, and yet, echoes among a chamber of disharmonious harmony. I think of the sound of waves from the ocean, of some frightening scene, like blood waves. A beautiful sound, and yet, among even the sweetest sounds of a chorus, a sobering hand dealt. Hands reaching out in the distance, a dark rolling visual approaching, and people on this fine hour's shore, attempting to blind themselves with artificial light and chessboards, to preoccupy.  I think this is love, though far removed from the manufactured form presented in the Hollywood machine. It's an overwhelming substance, fully demasked, embracing that unpretending hour. It's a moment when, depressing events emerge, and one is sitting in some form of industrial desolation, worthy of T.S. considerations, listening to the Verve on repeat. Bittersweet Symphony, only among a distant and hollowing echo chamber, encountering other voices, other rooms, remembering best friends and family members we care about, among some cold and distant sensation comforting, like fly fishing. We all experience that tug I think, and wonder. It's never literal and cliche. It's deeply layered and veiled. I think even in this echo chamber we come to age, when we stop considering our ambitions, and enter into a forum considering the ritual among us and before us. We listen to the distant laughter. The coffee pot returning to a needed production, the vacuuming in the distance, the fleeting conversations no longer. We disappear despite a coming of age. What is to become of that?  And I wouldn't want to be caught up among these words, among this form of language arrangement. Rather, I think of the little prince, among our distancing sounds and visuals, as we disappear even among our closest remembrances of experience.  It's our given progression, fading to grey, embracing dissipation, and yet, we seem to be doing this together, even when all, the assurance, the comfort, veils the actual experience. It's okay for matters to remain open. Opening up as closure, seems more in-line for matters needed, than some false sense of embrace' Even as the youth steps forward for the new arrival that has sounded off before, again and again. It's some type of differing phase, hollowing from the arrogance of youthful assurance. It's care among the hollowing, among the ritual as we disappear. We are no longer on the stage. The stage wasn't there, even as the younger crew embrace the spectacle.  Their hands are on the wheel looking forward, and our ears, hearing a distant roar, among turbid hues, among dissipating echo chamber. Our bodies, our health, our ambitions, our desires, our lives lived, as good as the dirt. There's a beauty among this, that is far removed, from those mesmerized by their time. We have too much grey to be getting older. We are simply old I think. It all comes with new baggage, and I think it is more interesting then what we had before. It all falls apart as we pick it up. 

And of course, the reason remains insofar, so matters are at that opening, of what may or may not be the case, between oscillations interacting. Again, it falls apart as we pick it up. 

Informatic Key

 In terms of endogeneity and exogeneity, I will be working with an informatic key, that works from a basic, generalized model, where the concepts do serve as some informational precipice for interactive thinking. That is, based on consistency measure, the terms by informatic design, reasonably serve as the contextual backdrop in relation to exogenous and endogenous materials. The informatic model itself, is derived from a professionally curated work, of colonial cultivation. With this informatic key, I can then derive concepts from exogenous and endogenous materials explored. 

Informatic Chrysalis

I don't take this form of language arrangement seriously. I hold an interest in terms of the impact of this form's rigid structure, like that of the Deleuze model where a Language::Based::Abstract becomes impacted on the basis of Single::Assemblage that would form concrete notion. I think in the opening of this ::Bridge:: as I shift modality, there is this polemical residue, which the structural arrangement will address. Meaning the work begins with a movement away from the colonial cultivation, as the initial phase, of the informatic, would be a transitional state, away from colonial institutional form. The modality, the mode, wouldn't be this self-deemed assertion, rather, the method and the comparative modeling, of colonial form in relation to informatic form will be the dynamic. This hasn't been done before.  The bridge itself, would involve something like that of Deleuzian Refrain, of which matters interact between some form of endogeneity and exogeneity, like a consideration of, a between, among poles.  Obviously, when we are interacting between an endogeneity and exogeneity there will be unexpected patterning, likely of a notion of chaos, of which we can respond in a variety of ways, at the Colonial level, and at the DeColonial level, of informatic form. The informatic models guide and structure, while among the colonial cultivation, even with AI, we have enhanced capacities of rapid growth, like that of a bush with some form of fertilizer. The unstructured form can grow rapidly, from inches to feet overnight, to offer an analogy. The informatic form, quickly reshapes the form into something meaningful, something guided, something that can work in relation to a larger scheme among an entire landscape.  Similar to the landscape, I think of matters associated with modernity, post-modernity, his-tory, grids, systems of codification, capitalism, circulations (like labor and capital), and the materializing forms driven by the synergies. We have a new forest. This would be an informational forest, unkempt. I think there is a lot to explore and discover in terms of informatic experimentation and discovery, of which yes, there is the modeling form itself, like libriatics, but then there is the interactive form, of the informatic in relation to the existing institutional arrangement, like that of philosophy cultures, that works with something that might be a manifestation of Deleuzian influence, though I can't really say for sure. That is, to offer sobering insight, we are not of a Deleuzian time, any more than we are of a post-modern time, as there is this newer capacity to arrange the language differently. A time, where the basis of even education wouldn't need to begin from a book, nor would one, considering the flaws of the colonial arrangement advise this basis for anything educational. The book, of the colonial arrangement, would be a raw material that needs to be refined, before use. I do believe academia needs to begin with some form of informatic chrysalis instead. There is now the opportunity and capacity to begin with consistency measures first, to identify key concepts, establish socially normed methods, of which we explore those concepts, based upon such measure. 

Shifting modalities

This transition from a narrative computation modality to a "Philosophy Cultures" modality will be exciting, but the transition is difficult. We "humans" are fortunate in terms of brain plasticity, so the modality can always shift, which remains interesting to me, of dynamic spaces opening in relation to some form of interactivity. Still, I think of this notion, like "we are creatures of habit," so there isn't simply conscious control among the experimentation, even if there is conscious control.  Still, there can be structures that counteract habitual patterns as we rewire.  The structuring, even for the Philosophy Cultures site, does something like this I would think, as we address single assemblage and linear understanding.  All in all, this is enjoyable. It's my very own basketball diaries to Gilbert Grape and beyond.  It's not a conventional existence, but I can't go for the safe and sound, when a ding in the universe can be had. If I went the safe and sound path, and I'm not knocking it, but if I did, I would likely wilt out of sheer boredom.  I have to cultivate a process that pushes the rigor further.  Granted, after years of pushing matters, I am easing up with philosophy & art. It's time. I've turned a bit grey, and I know someone else who is entirely grey, and there are people I grew up with, who I've seen at work, and we are all chickens who missed the spring now. One foot in. Only a matter of time until we blossom fully into our potential as chicken of the sea. Canned. And as the mirror fades to grey, the meaning involves modality form. A dynamic modality does seem to open one up to a better livelihood, regardless of reflections in the mirror. Not of superficial smiles and happiness, or "reassuring" literal universals ad nauseum, but a gratifying sense concerning something underlying the fade. I appreciate the shifting modality. Life isn't this mysterious, inexplicable form, even among this sensory chaos. Between the superficial polarities, there is this pulse to matters, so greying doesn't bother me, and I don't sense this linear passage of time, fleeting.  There's just this new emergence among an ongoing process that is something to look forward to, that offers a genuine sense of gratitude among the inevitable frictions of a mirroring world in disarray. There is this interaction between them, so I can be okay with both. I can also have fun being a lively curmudgeon of a desired humorous grumpiness that is sobering and yet uplifting. At least, that seems to be my flavor. Optimistic, even if I say the world is going to hell in an artisanal handbasket if we are lucky. What can I say?  I enjoy a good artisanal handbasket like enjoying a good development of shifting modality. Something with an interesting pulsation, at least; Something like a tea kettle heating up, or my shoes on spin cycle, of some unexpected patterning, among the expected. This is what I mean. 

Comparative Modeling & Tacit-Form Philosophy

 This is a philosophy of tacit-form, rather than explicit form. A good analogy for conceptual understanding, could be riding a bike. The PowerPoint presentation on how to ride a bike would be the explicit form of knowledge. Where one would explore and silo as much knowledge as the could on how to ride a bike. This, however, would not mean that one actually knows how to ride a bike, as the determination could be understood with the tacit-form. One enthused about riding a bike, would soon discover they haven't understood the maneuvering involved in their distinct center of gravity.

Meaning, there is a distinction between the explicit form and the tacit form. One who, for example, is a champion of bike-riding at the X-games, or Olympics, wouldn't have to be an explicit-form expert to remain a tacit-form expert. Nor would their motivations have to align with the explicit-form to demonstrate excellence of the tacit-form. Much like an excellent bike rider, of the tacit-form, doesn't mean one would be the best candidate for being a bike mechanic, likely a book of knowledge involving a heavy emphasis on explicit form. This isn't to say an individual, over time, both emphasizing explicit or tacit form, wouldn't cross over and develop into a well-rounded form, the established emphasis and difference would remain. If one is a professional bike-rider, competing, that wouldn't be the same emphasis as one who is repairing bikes. So when I say tacit-form, in relation to philosophy, I have this difference noted.

The focus, wouldn't be of the trivial play of category, which is what the colonial mind, of static cultivation, considers when delving into this notion of philosophy. All of us remain predominately influenced by this limited institutional form of arrangement, so there will be these trivial plays often, of philosophical notion belonging to authorship, and the discussion on the basis of the static cultivation, which is misguided in relation to my "philosophy cultures" activities. That is, there is a dynamic form of language arrangement, that would need to be explored, of measures, organizing on a basis that would surpass the very abilities of the human mind. Still, the human mind, remains needed, considering one needs to contextualize and curate tacit-form methods, to figure out what forms achieve best, for a particular task. This to me, isn't profound. This would be like one learning to maneuver a bike or skateboard, and then formalizing the activities into a form embraced by social norm. I don't care what Deleuze had to say, or what Deleuze book was written. I care about the methods that establish some measure, some consistency measure of generalized form to be more exact in my current interests.

Something that actually establishes a sound basis, which a mind of static cultivation, even among the age of reason, post-modernity, and the like, bound to an arbitrary and universal arrangement of the language, could not achieve, by design. I think of this form, as a bike, or skateboard with square tires. There is the illusion of maneuvering, of what we deem knowing, and yet, the arrangement impedes actual dynamic maneuvering (of arrangement), of what is clear among our animate design, of any foundational basis involving and evolving interactivity. So here I am, among this analogy, on a dynamic-form skateboard (round wheels) maneuvering with the dynamic arrangement of the language, among a networked tradition ready to critique, among static-form skateboards (square wheels) with limited motion, norming my work in a colonial manner, which doesn’t actually work. The explicit-form shared has followed suit, tested for the trivial verbiage, and yet, I am maneuvering in relation to tacit-form, in relation to understanding a distinct relation with a center of gravity, interacting with the dynamic arrangement of the language. The goal, for me, at least for now, is simply to produce emergent models that will serve in relation to the informatic quantum, of books. The process essentially would be a dynamic form of comparative modeling.

I say cultures, like that of a petri dish, where there are ways of controlling cultures, with tacit-form arrangement, but among that form, there remain uncontrollable aspects, among the explicit form. So it is odd when one wants to test the waters with me on the basis of explicit-form. I will chat to chat, but I'm not taking the conversation seriously, nor am I that concerned about saying something that would be deemed, among this odd notion of "age of reason," as being "intelligent" among the explicit form, which isn't possible in relation to the static form of language cultivation. To be able to interact with unstructured information in this way. This is like being a new type of gardener. Much like the work with the tacit binder, I can take an unkempt bush of information and transform it into some kind of topiary. This could be useful?  This wouldn't be my call or place, but as I have already demonstrated, the dynamic form has newer capacities in relation to language arrangement. I do think there is the potential to creatively respond to critical challenges with these newer capacities, as well as opportunities for significant institutional development, both public and private. 

Considering Bridging: The Firth of Forth

 

I think of philosophy cultures in this way. The models offering structural integrity, with rhizomes fostering added supports and extensions, and the bridging, like that of a cantilever, of some synergy that runs through, allowing matters of process to proceed, like a rail line. The waters, something of experimentation, something of the process being explored that can result in the process being channeled. For example, narrative computation resulting in informatic interactivity and likely newer institutional development, as an evolving transitional. This, obviously being metaphorical, is not to be essentializing, nor would this be of summative assessment, but rather, there is always that need for a vision, in relation to mission(s) and objective(s). I think the Firth of Forth Bridge is a good vision. Even in terms of bottom-up and top-down structuring managing balance to establish a process running through, the successful design corresponds. 

Considering Rhizomatics: Tatius and Shallow Justifications

"The narrative climaxes with a trial of morality against the backdrop of love, betrayal, and the quest for redemption, weaving a narrative that exposes the shallow justifications for acts of violence and the pursuit of love." [Part 10]

• The end would involve phenomena in the mirror.
• There would be no worthwhile means in relation.
• The means in relation to shallow desire. 
• The end in relation to stabilizing accord. 
• The visions of an end established as evolving phenomena vs static phenomena
• The means in relation to the end involving static phenomena
• How to determine the shallow justifications?
• For example, the end as innovation, unforeseen design manifesting, would involve evolving phenomena. 
• Results manifested would include ongoing and developing benefits

*Note, I say Rhizomatics, as the Deleuzian approach fosters an accessibility among evolving phenomena. There is a context of multiplicity in relation to singular assemblage record. The justifications for such activities wouldn't be shallow, and working in relation to the needed wellspring of developing benefit. There is depth to the activity by design.  This links to my narrative computation involving agency and the nodes "initiate" and "justification."