Showing posts with label Mindfucking My Readers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mindfucking My Readers. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Free Will is a Matter of Quantum Uncertainty

Imagine, if you will, a cat placed within a box. This box has no windows and is soundproofed. Further imagine that you then leave the room, during which time I might, or I might not, poison the cat and kill it. When you come back into the room, you have to decide – without opening the box, mind you - “Is the cat alive or dead?”

The answer, of course, is “I won’t know unless I open the box and observe it. Until such time as I do, the cat exists in a state of quantum uncertainty, meaning that the cat is potentially alive and dead at the same time. The act of observation solidifies the probabilities into certainty.”

This (highly simplified) version of a thought experiment known as Schrödinger‘s Paradox can be applied to the notion of free will*. For centuries, humankind has argued whether or not we have ultimate control over our own actions, or if everything that happens to us and everything that we do is predestined, whether it be by Deity or by the inter-relatedness of cause and effect. Indeed, it could be theorized that entire branches of science and commerce – specifically psychology, advertising, and politics – are highly advanced tools of mental and social manipulation designed test whether or not we have the free will not to succumb to their machinations.

However, I disagree with both sides of this argument, because I feel they are proceeding from an incorrect conclusion. Proponents of free will vs. predestination both like to believe they are the scientists, and if they just look hard enough they will find the evidence necessary to collapse the probabilities into a certainty. They are, unfortunately, incorrect in this belief.

Humanity is not the scientist. Humanity is the cat.

The cat does not understand what is happening to it. It cannot comprehend why it has been placed in the box, or how long it will be there, or what will happen to it while it is there. The cat is completely incapable of affecting its environment: it cannot escape, cannot make its presence known (remember, the box is windowless and soundproofed), cannot do anything other than wait for the experiment to run its course.

If the cat had the intelligence, it might notice that it is utterly trapped and its every action within the box is futile. If it understood logic, it might realize that, having been placed into the box by a scientist, it follows that a scientist will remove it. If the cat had self-awareness, it might conclude that this removal does not necessarily precede the cat starving to death. The cat might even despair, were it self-aware enough, and attempt to kill itself in order to die quickly, rather than suffer a slow lingering death of negligence.

This is humanity. We understand that we are alive, and trapped inside this reality. We cannot change anything about this reality other than to choose to leave the experiment early. Everything that we do, including suicide, is done because we are inside that metaphorical box. It is irrelevant to our existence if we have free will within this box, because the “free” portion of free will is so thoroughly constrained by the environment of the box. It does not matter if the cat has free will to pace within the box, because the cat cannot leave that box.

Humanity has created philosophy and religion in an attempt to explain the box. Some beliefs state that the box only exists within the mind of the cat, and that it can leave any time it desires. Others say that the box is a test, and that if the cat is virtuous, it will be rewarded with a paradise on the other side of the box. Some will argue that the box is a death sentence, and that it doesn't matter what the cat does, because it’s going to die there. Regardless, all of these beliefs try to bypass the fact that the cat is the experiment, and try to make it into an observer.

The cat cannot observe itself in the same manner that the scientist can. The cat can only perceive part of itself, and only while it is alive. Once the cat dies, its observation of itself ends – but that does not mean it cannot still be observed. The scientist which placed it there (Deity, Mother Nature, Causality; call it what you will) will observe it, living or dead, and remove it.


What all this means is that the concept of “free will” is irrelevant. If we have free will, we still cannot comprehend the outside of the box from the inside, nor can we understand our purpose within it. If we do not have free will, it does not matter, because we only have the illusion of free will while trapped within that box. We will only know the truth once an outside force – God, death, whatever – removes us from that box.

The point is not “Have we free will or not,” but “How have we spent our time in the box?”

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Derpy Fett

I put it to you that Boba Fett is the Derpy Hooves of Star Wars fandom.

I swear to God, I did not know this picture existed
until I looked for images to bolster my claim. 

Consider the following:
  • Neither of them have had much "canonical" screen time or dialog. 
  • There are few actual facts about them. 
  • They appear mostly in the background. 
  • Nevertheless, they are deeply beloved by their respective fandoms...
  • ... so much so that a HUGE body of lore has sprung up around both of them. 
  • Their collectible toys are expensive, hard to get, and highly prized. 

Didn't know about this one, either. Honest. 

Discuss amongst yourselves.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Merry Zombiemas

Christmas always makes me think of zombie movies.

No, really, it does. Stop thinking about the hustle and bustle of shopping and think, instead, of silent nights. Everyone has gone to bed; streets are dark, houses quiet. And yet, lights everywhere: not enough to read by, but enough to illuminate houses and sidewalks such that a body could walk around without needing a flashlight. The odd colors cast people and buildings in strange new perspectives. And of course, the crazy shadows and shapes on lawns and roofs formed by unlit decorations. Anyone, any thing, could be out there.  Isn't the true lesson of Santa Claus "You don't know who's watching, so shut up and go to sleep"?

Christmas at night carries that unspoken "Do not wake the house" vibe. Shhh. Be quiet. Move about the house navigating only by the light of the tree and the outdoor decorations. Look outside the windows and see shapes that normally aren't there. Muse upon how it's hard to tell the difference between a house with sleeping occupants and a house that has been abandoned because of outbreak. Try not to think about that scene in 28 Days Later where Jim is watching home movies late at night in his parent's house -- a quiet, shadowed house, much like the one you're in -- when an infected bursts in through the window and attacks him.

Red. Red everywhere. Worse, red contrasted with white. It doesn't get more "blood on the snow" than that. Christmas is a celebration of life while surrounded by death -- snowstorms, bitter cold, hypothermia and starvation and death. It's an embarrassment of riches, a ritualized gorging upon food and presents while lesser animals die alone in the cold. Life is always about eating, about something dying so that another can live. Blood on the snow.

Even the poem "The Night Before Christmas" teaches us to observe noise discipline, maintain vigilance at night, and beware of strangers entering the house via unorthodox and unsecured entry points. It's a good thing Santa doesn't want to kill you all in your beds, is what I'm saying. "If you're good little boys and girls, you survive to see morning" becomes a heck of a moral.

Are jingle bells for merriment, or are they an improvised perimeter alarm? Or did someone have a relative who got bitten, and so they tried to "bell the cat"? Because they don't sound merry to my ears -- they sound frantic.

So for me, the question isn't why Christmas makes me think of zombies. The question is, why doesn't it make you think of zombies?

Friday, June 7, 2013

I have been Ponified!

Meet Powder Flash, my alter ego (and pony version of the huntress picture to your upper left), expertly drawn by the unsinkable Joie Brown herself!

Joie is running a deal where she will draw a ponysona of your choice for only $15, but act now! There are only 5 slots left!

Email her at brown.joie@gmail.com to reserve a slot along with a description of what you want your design to be. Larger/more complicated designs may cost more, but consultation is free!



Powder Flash is Ponyville's resident expert on all things that go bang!  She mixes various explosive powders for use in fireworks, construction, and Pinkie Pie's party cannon.  She uses her ponykinesis to manipulate the precision tools of her trade, and her unicorn magic (which is gunmetal gray in color) allows her to operate in perfect safety by neutralizing combustion until she's ready to try out her custom mixtures. Then, with a touch of her unicorn "powder horn,"  she can set off a a show to amaze and delight her friends!

Yes, I just made a pony that mixes gunpowder and makes firecrackers and other explosives. If you think that she might also have a black-powder rifle in her cottage that she shoots via ponykinesis...  well, you'd be right. ;)

I will stat her up for Unknown Ponies soon!  :D

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Lo! Cometh the Erin-skald

Sits I, upon padded wooden-horse, whilst fingers clicky-box and palm-scroll-point, eyes fixed upon flat-show-me, mini-keg of go-blood perking.

My brain is slowly turning into that of a Viking skald: it can't think of the proper name for things anymore, and so it uses kennings instead.

The dishwasher, for example, is the hot box (not to be confused with the wet box, which is the washing machine, or the spin box, which is the dryer). The recycling container is the ching bin (because when you toss metal or glass into it, you hear a noise that sounds like CHING!). A door is a move-wall, etc.

As awesome as this might be, soon I will be utterly incomprehensible to everyone but James Joyce enthusiasts. What a slog it would be to read a story in that style...

... on the other hand, I am immensely entertained with the notion of a cookbook written entirely in this manner. Every recipe an adventure! Never entirely sure what you're going to get, or even if you're doing it right!


ROYAL HAT BAKING THINGS
(a schedule for cook-making)

Quaff of Coagulated Cow
Thricequaff Toothrot
Quaff Latenight Winterdrink
Victorian Spade Antichoc
Twice Morningcrow Extrusion

Quaff of Purple Bag Elixir
Hemispade Antivinegar
Hemispade Daily Wage
Fourquaff & change Powdered Plant

Dial sunbox to prime numbers. MMA the trinity. Aforethought malice, murder the unborn one, two, then white. King the mix. Pay the king his wage, plant his crops, heat the Coke until Highlander. Testicles. Metal scrotum. Tan for demiglass. Relax upon brassiere. In your mouth, like sex.


If ye cannae ken me thinkmeat shapesongs, then Mark I the MSDS yon.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

WNW: Terrible and Perfect

I have to inflict this on everyone.



After I heard it the first time, I was like this:


This song perfectly summarizes the core of my being, and if that doesn't scare the crap out of you, something is seriously wrong with your brain and you are my kind of person and you can download it here.



After the third or fourth listen, my mother came to investigate why I was bouncing and giggling hysterically. Since she didn't know who either NIN or Carly Rae Jephson were,  I finally had to give up and say "It is beautifully obscene, like an angel made of shit."

I cannot get over how perfectly these tracks synch up. Previous to this, my go-to for "just plain wrong" was a Rickroll mashed to the tune of Smells Like Teen Spirit, but this one surpasses it. Terrible and perfect indeed.  The only way this could be more perfect is, possibly, if someone made the inverse and put CRJ's lyrics to NIN's music.




Fun fact:  After Johnny Cash did his cover of Hurt, Reznor saw the video and said the following:
I pop the video in, and wow... Tears welling, silence, goose-bumps... Wow. [I felt like] I just lost my girlfriend, because that song isn't mine anymore...



I wonder how Reznor will feel about this mash-up. 

Thursday, October 25, 2012

So apparently I'm a munition now

Yesterday I was paid a lovely compliment by Sean Sorrentino when he invoked me in a Twitter dispute:



Yes, you read that correctly: "invoked." Much like an Elder God from the Cthulhu mythos, you summon me by speaking my name:





And that's when what was a political conversation about guns and gun control was suddenly besieged with links to My Little Pony and Hello Kitty gun mods.



Apparently I am a form of madness which can be weaponized in order to break someone's mind, or at least their will to argue, because Mister Animatronic Teddy Bear quickly gave up.

I think I was posting links long after he left, actually...

So yes. I am a Weapon of Mass Distraction.  Instead of a Bunker Buster Bomb, I'm a Paradigm Puncturing Palette.

Y'all have no idea how much this pleases me. In fact, it's given me an idea for a story...
 :D

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Sunday, October 31, 2010

A Halloween Trick

BEGIN TELEPHONE TRANSCRIPT: 10/31/2010  0053 HRS


Unidentified Male #1: Hello?

Unidentified Male #2: Fuck you, Nick! Fuck you!

Nick: What? What'd I do? Who is this?

Unidentified Male #2: You know what you did, you sick fuck! God, I hate you so much right now!

Nick: Matt? Is that you?

Unidentified Male #2: Who else would it be?

Nick: Um, honestly, I didn't expect anyone to be calling me after midnight, so when my cell rang I thought it was my family calling with some bad news. So why're you freaking out, dude?

Matt: Don't pretend you don't know.

Nick: Humor me for a moment.

Matt: [subject audibly sighs] Fine. You emailed me a link to that fucking Maze Game, and at the end of the third level that Exorcist chick popped up and screamed at me. You know I scare easily, Nick! That is so not cool! I thought we were better friends than this! I deserve better!

[pause of several seconds]

Nick: Matt... I didn't send you a link.

Matt: Bullshit!

Nick: Hand to God, dude. Listen to my voice. Am I laughing? No. Would I be laughing if I sent a "scare the shit outta Matt" link and you called me all freaking out? Yes.

Matt: Uh...

Nick: Yup.

Matt: But why did it have your email address? Did you get a virus? Might be time to run a malware scan.

Nick: Hey Matt?

Matt: Yeah?

Nick: I wanna ask you a really strange question.

Matt: Um, okay...

Nick: Is there a part of your body that feels cold right now? Or are you just like hot with adrenaline?

Matt: Oh, um, I'm still shaking from the scare. And I'm covered in cold sweat.

Nick: That's all?

Matt: Well, the back of my neck is really cold and the hair is tingling...

Nick: [voice is firm, almost to the point of shouting] MATT.

Matt: What?

Nick: Okay, I need you to listen to me right now and most importantly, do not freak out on me.

Matt: Um, yeah, saying things like that really doesn't make me any calmer...

Nick: I need you to promise me that whatever happens, you will not turn around.

Matt: What?

Nick: Don't turn around. Just don't. Don't move your head. Keep facing forwards.

Matt: [in a weak voice] Why?

Nick: Do you have that really weird feeling that someone is standing behind you, looking at your neck?

Matt: If I didn't before, I sure as hell do now...

Nick: MATT! DON'T TURN AROUND!

Matt: Okay, okay. What's going on, Nick?

Nick: What you sense behind you is what sent you that email.

Matt: [unintelligible whimpering]

Nick: Urban legend says that there are fear demons out there who send you links to games or YouTube videos that scare you. They feed off of that fear. And the more scared you get, the more powerful they become.

Matt: [unintelligible whimpering]

Nick: If you hadn't been such a wuss, all that would have happened was that you'd jump a bit, the fear demon would get a bite, and move on. But you freaked out so much it's like Thanksgiving over there.

Matt: [unintelligible whimpering]

Nick: If you turned around now and saw it, you'd probably have a heart attack from sheer terror. So don't turn around.

Matt: [weakly] What do I do?

Nick: It's easy. Are you in your bedroom?

Matt: Yes.

Nick: Okay. Remember when you were little and scared of monsters, you'd hide under the covers and feel safer?

Matt: Yeah.

Nick: That's what I want you to do now. Slowly, without turning your head, get up and walk over to your bed. Take off your shoes and cover yourself with your blanket.

Matt: What about brushing my teeth?

Nick: Dude, do you really want to look in the mirror right now?

Matt: Point. Um, should I take my clothes off?

Nick: Dealer's choice. If you do, though, do it quickly. Being naked around this thing will only make you more scared and it stronger.

Matt: [rustling sounds] I'm getting in the bed now. Gonna take my clothes off under the covers.

Nick: Good idea. Now for the tough part: turn off the light.

Matt: Oh god.

Nick: Matt, you have to turn the light off, otherwise you'll never get any sleep and it'll feed off of you all night.

Matt: But... I'm so scared...

Nick: You can do it. Just stick your hand out and turn off the lamp. It'll be okay.

Matt: [more whimpering, then a sigh of relief] Okay.

Nick: It didn't grab your hand, did it?

Matt: NOT COOL, DUDE!

Nick: Hahahah. Sorry. So, you all snuggy-tight in your blankets?

Matt: Yeah. Now what?

Nick: Now you hang up and try to get some sleep.

Matt: How?

Nick: Beats me. But that's the only way to win.

Matt: Okay. Thanks, Nick. Appreciate it.

Nick: Hey Matt, before you go to sleep...

Matt: Yeah?

Nick: Do me a favor and look at your phone.

Matt: [shuffling noises suggest phone is pulled away from face. Screams follow] OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD IT DIDN'T DIAL OH GOD OH GOD

Nick: I'm your Fear of the Dark, Matt. Thank you for turning off the lights and covering your head. I'm in here with you, now. Sweet dreams....

[phone disconnects]


END TRANSCRIPT


(This story is dedicated to a certain someone on the west coast. You know who you are.)

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Hand Armor

No, not armor for hands; armor made of hands. Think of a suit of armor made of multiple Things (of Addams Family fame) imitating Janet Jackson's 1993 Rolling Stone cover, except over the entire body.

Yes, the image in your mind is both kinky and disturbing. At least the hands aren't skeletal or otherwise undead. No, these hands are Constructs, closer to homunculi or golems than undead, and they are joined at the wrist in pairs. When the command word is spoken, the hands -- one hundred in all -- climb over the speaker's body before locking into place though interlaced fingers or grasped wrists. Certain critical areas, like the head and torso, are doubly covered. If the speaker is wearing clothing when this happens, the hands will either tear it away or crawl under it, depending upon its tightness. Whatever the circumstance, Hand Armor needs skin-to-skin contact in order to function.

In addition to looking exceedingly creepy, Hand Armor has several unique abilities:
  • The wearer can command a single pair of hands to detach and operate remotely, as if a Mage Hand spell. 
  • A number of hands equal to the wearer's Wisdom Bonus (minimum of 1) may be commanded to hold objects, such as a rope or a torch. These hands hold objects with a Strength of 10 and cannot be used to fight.
  • The wearer gains a +3 Competence Bonus to the following skills while wearing Hand Armor: Climb, Disable Device, Escape Artist, Intimidate, Sleight of Hand, Swim.
  • If another command word is spoken, all hands (except for those serving as "underwear") disengage from the wearer, clasps each other by the wrists, and form a 50' piece of "rope". While this is in effect, all of the previous abilities listed cease to function, and the wearer loses all Armor Class bonuses.  Another command word causes the hands to return to the wearer.
Armor Bonus: +4
Max Dex Bonus: +5
Armor Check Penalty: 0
Arcane Spell Failure Chance: 10%
Speed: 30ft/20ft
Weight: 15 lbs.

Construction Requirements: Craft Construct feat; Animate Rope; Mage Hand; Caster level 12th; Craft (armor) 17
Cost: 20,000 gp


This freaky piece of magic was inspired by a truly weird dream I had last night. 


NOTE: If you came here via Trollsmyth's Old School Rant post, thank you! Please read another of my posts about the Amazon PayPhrase Challenge and consider participating. Any and all versions of D&D are welcome in the APPC.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Cause and Effect

Once again, Here be spoilers.








In Monday's post, I explained how magic works in the Curse/Or universe... except I left out one crucial element. It's all very well and good to say that Magic is what happens when an obsessed individual alters reality through sheer force of will, but that doesn't really explain why obsessive force of will can make these changes.

At the risk of bringing the wrath of physicists down upon my head, it all comes down to quantum uncertainty and the observer effect. If you don't know what these are, I encourage you to skim the articles, but for purposes of understanding this post all you need to know is that subatomic particles are affected by observation, i.e. the act of looking at something on the quantum scale actually changes it in some manner.

So in the Curse/Or universe, when an individual performs magic there is a huge outpouring of psychic energy -- obsessive amounts of willpower -- channeled through the framework of a paradoxical belief system and focused with ritual paraphernalia. And when this energy flows outward into the universe, it begins sloshing about the Quantum Structure of Things.

Physics says that if you channel energy, then you affect the world through its release. Yet, according to the Observer Effect, observing and affecting are the same thing... so if by observing you cause change, then by changing you must necessarily observe.... thus, psychically changing the universe means that you are also observing it on a psychic level as well. Magic is actually the psychic manipulation of the quantum structure of the universe to achieve a desired result.

Or, as I like to put it: "Magic does not cause effects. Rather, it effects causes."

Remember when I compared the human brain to a network? It's a psychic network, which means that it can link with other networks (thus explaining ESP, telepathy, etc), and therefore everyone, on some level, perceives magic, even if it's the archetypal "bad feeling about this" or the "someone walked over my grave" shudder.

What this means is that, perversely, magic works better when more people are consciously aware of it, which is why human sacrifice has such a kick to it: the conscious sacrificee, if awake, is providing psychic energy along with the magic-using sacrificer. (This also explains the typical "cultists surrounding the chief priest" schtick: the more people watching, the more powerful the ritual.)

Because it all ties into that damned Observer Effect. If only the caster perceives it, that effect has the power of 1 (x^1). If someone else is present to perceive it, even unconsciously, then that effect is squared (x^2), making it more real, in much the same way that an audience watching the performance of an illusionist is a willing party to its own deception ("We all saw it. There's no way he could have faked that!")

Or to put it more lasciviously: A naked woman in your bedroom is sex. A naked woman on the street is a misdemeanor. A naked woman inside a magazine is pornography. A naked woman on the front page of the newspaper is a scandal. A naked woman on national television is that nation freaking out.

So magic is also a network -- perhaps even the network, since it links humanity, and has done so since the very beginning. It adheres to the observer effect, and yet reaches across the planet. How do you define something that is both everywhere and no one place?

You call it n-dimensional. Meaning, "Fuck if I know how many dimensions it has. Probably at least 4, since it can be everywhere on Earth at once without being tangible. But on a large enough scale, "Earth" is a single point. So what else do you call a construct that:
  • Exists as a single point (Earth)
  • Is infinite in length (every human to every other human on Earth)
  • Offers instantaneous transfer of information (magic) between nodes (people) as if distance was meaningless?"
Now, how many of you noticed what I did there? If you said "Palette, didn't you just describe the internet in abstract terms?" then you get a cookie.


Meaning:
  • According to my system, the Internet is the biggest fucking brain on the planet.
  • If it's a brain, then it's linked (or at least is capable of being linked) in some psychic manner to all the other brains on the planet.
  • If it's a psychic link, then the Internet... is capable of performing what we call magic.
  • Of course, to perform magic, you kinda have to be a little crazy.
  • And, well, if millions of people were using YOUR brain to send spam, porn, financial scams and sorts of other crap to each other -- constantly -- you'd be a little crazy too.
So: the internet is a brain, is crazy, and can perform magic. What this means, and what happens next, is the tale that the Curse/Or novel intends to tell.



And look at that, I didn't even need to drag Kabbalah into this explanation. Lucky for you! Because things would have gotten strange otherwise.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Never consume an energy field larger than your head

So where were we?

Right, I was going to explain how magic works in the Curse/Or universe. But first, I shall reiterate my SPOILERS AHOY warning.





Okay, so let's revisit my thesis statement: Networks are n-dimensional constructs of psychic energy. In my previous post, I explained pretty thoroughly how the human brain and the internet and the Kabbalistic Tree of Life are all neural/nodal networks, and I'm sure some of you are going "Palette, I get the bit about the internet, and I even understood the Magister Ludi stuff, but what does medieval Jewish occultism have to do with it?"

And I'd love to answer that question, really. But I can't right now. If I did, I'd just confuse you worse. So hold that thought, because we will most definitely come back to it.


So. Magic. Put extremely simply, Magic is what happens when an obsessed individual alters reality through sheer force of will.


Now, when someone alters reality, she is also altering her perception of reality. Someone who makes reality conform to her will, while at the same time changing the parameters by which she perceives that reality, is not exactly what you'd call stable. A person who constantly changes her point of reference about reality is, by many definitions, insane.

But most (though, creepily, not all) clinically insane people lack the force of will to enact magical change, because their world is constantly changing around them. So there needs to be a focus, a framework, an unchanging bedrock for this crazy obsessive person to stand on while she twists reality to suit her needs.

Hence magic wands, chanting in Latin, summoning circles... or in Camel's case, smoking. All of these foci provide a rigid lattice of "If I do this, then that happens" which helps keep the merely crazily obsessed at the shallow end of the madness pool instead of diving headfirst into the deep end of heavy-duty psychosis.

So okay, you've got a focus. But where does the power come from? What actually makes magic go? This presents an interesting dilemma, because most people, even the freaky obsessed ones, don't have enough emotional/psychic/whatever energy to pour into their focus to make it work. What you need, then, is symbolic tension: something meaningful and paradoxical that you can live your life around which creates a kind of energy.

At the risk of offending people -- and please don't kill me for this -- let's use Roman Catholicism as an example. Imagine someone who goes to confession, oh, once a week. Throughout that week, he's conscious of all the ways in which he's sinned. It's like in the back of his head, he's got a little process running that keeps track of all the things he needs to feel guilty about. At the same time, there's another process that keeps a running list of all of the sins he might commit, so that he can be on the lookout and not do them.

I ask you, how much energy -- mental, emotional, spiritual, psychic, whatever you want to call it -- is expended during that week? Looking out for sin, listing sin, tabulating guilt, maintaining guilt?

One would probably think quite a bit.

That's because it's tied up in what is essentially a paradox: "Christ loves you. Christ wants you to be happy and free from sin. Keep scrupulous track of all the ways you've fucked up so you can confess and be happy."

Again, I apologize if I've offended anyone, but you get it, right? Human brains LOVE paradox. We are all chock-a-block full of hypocrisy, and while consciously we may ignore our self-contradictions we are all aware of them at some level. They sit in the back of the head, spinning like a turbine, generating a ton of energy, which is just waiting to be poured into the right focus and framework. Some people dump that energy into religion, or politics, or sports, or art, and are called fanatics (remember, "fan" is short for fanatic).

Those who are less well-adjusted sometimes have what is basically a trigger event -- such as a near-death experience -- that forces them to re-evaluate their lives. Sometimes they even have epiphanies, mystic awakenings where for one moment they understand the universe. They see the paradoxes inherent in existence and realize they are the engines that drive reality. And in that moment, a person becomes capable of performing magic.

Or batshit insane.

Or both.

Camel's magic is Cancermancy*. Her central paradox is, "Magic gives you power. Cancer eats your body. Kill your body to fuel your magic." The theme of her magic is twofold: One, it exploits all the superstitions and odd rituals that are inherent to smoking; and two, Cancer likes to spread.


So that's how magic works. For those who have been paying attention, this post just explained the "psychic energy" portion of my thesis, with the previous post explaining "constructs". My next (and hopefully final) post in this series will explain "N-dimensional" and hopefully tie all of this stuff together.




* Yes, yes, I know the proper Latin for this is actually "Carcinomancy", because the word Cancer is derived from the Greek. But fuck it! I like the rough way Cancermancer sounds, like someone is coughing up a lung while speaking. If it pisses off the purists, so much the better; tobacco smoking has been doing that for centuries.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Like taking a drink from a fire hose

I am high as a fucking kite right now.

It's not from drugs -- the hardest substance currently in my body is 8 ounces of Mountain Dew. No, right now my high is entirely due to adrenaline and brain chemistry, because I have just put together the final thesis of Curse/Or. This is the Grand Unified Theory of Everything for my universe, and at this moment, I comprehend the entire cosmos.

I'm going to share it with you, because I'm tired of not having posted anything this week, and I was going to have to write it all down anyway. Once this high wears off I may not be able to grasp this particular universal totality, so it'll be a huge help if later on I can refer back to my notes and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

Besides, there's always the possibility that I missed something, and one of you may catch it. If so, please comment. I welcome such criticism, along with questions or requests for further explanation.

However, be warned: SPOILERS AHEAD. If you'd prefer to be surprised by what happens in Curse/Or, then by all means, skip this. But if you don't mind spoilers, or would rather know just what the hell is going on, or (like me) simply enjoy peeking under the hood of someone else's universe, then this is the post you've been waiting for.

Oh, one last thing: This fucker threatens to be dense, and may have all the readability of a lunatic's rantings. If you thought SCSI Logic and Illithics were off the rails, what comes next is really gonna bake your noodle, as I reference all kinds of crap from Hermann Hesse's Magister Ludi to Quantum Theory to Kabbalah and "modern" occult theory. I'll do my best to link things, but if stuff still doesn't make sense, then I encourage you to bug me until it does.




Thesis: Networks are n-dimensional constructs of psychic energy.



Where to begin, where to begin... okay, let's start with Hermann Hesse. In 1943, he wrote a book titled The Glass Bead Game but which most people call Magister Ludi (Latin for "Master of the Game") because, frankly, it just sounds cooler. In this book, Hesse created a 25th century nation called Castalia in which the residents -- nearly all of them Ivory Tower-style academics -- engage in what is known as Das Glasperlenspiel, or the Glass Bead Game:
"... the Game of games had developed into a kind of universal language through which the players could express values and set these in relation to one another. Throughout its history the Game was closely allied with music, and usually proceeded according to musical and mathematical rules. One theme, two themes, or three themes were stated, elaborated, varied, and underwent a development quite similar to that of the theme in a Bach fugue or a concerto movement. A Game, for example, might start from a given astronomical configuration, or from the actual theme of a Bach fugue, or from a sentence out of Leibniz or the Upanishads, and from this theme, depending on the intentions and talents of the player, it could either further explore and elaborate the initial motif or else enrich its expressiveness by allusions to kindred concepts. Beginners learned how to establish parallels, by means of the Game's symbols, between a piece of classical music and the formula for some law of nature. Experts and Masters of the Game freely wove the initial theme into unlimited combinations."
In other words, the Game is an exercise in comparative symbology that encompasses all of human existence and understanding. For an example of how this might work, go to Hipbone Games and read through some of their examples. If you're already confused, go lie down for a bit, because it's only going to get worse.


"Beginners learned how to establish parallels, by means of the Game's symbols, between a piece of classical music and the formula for some law of nature." If you're like me, you read this sentence and immediately thought of the Internet. Anyone who's followed a trail of hyperlinks while websurfing, or lost hours while browsing Wikis (TV tropes is the most powerful of these) understands this concept. This leads to that which leads to those.

And then I realized, this is exactly how the human brain works, too. We may not realize we are making causal or symbolic links when we think of things, but I guarantee you that we do. If we didn't, there'd be no such thing as an object of sentimental value.

And then I thought of the Kabbalah. Specifically, the Ten Sephirot of the Tree of Life, and how they are understood to be discrete levels of creation unfolding into the world as emanations of God, and how this concept has been developed into a model of reality.

All of these are networks. And they're all reflections of the human mind's desire to find connections and causality. They're all neural, if you're willing to accept a suitably broad interpretation of the word, or perhaps nodal. They're all constructs for thinking about thinking.
And none of them truly exist in a tangible state. Sure, the human brain exists, but whatever makes it a mind is still well and truly abstract. Each of these things has measurable qualities, but in their totality are immeasurable.

Thus: the Internet = Glass Bead Game = Kabbalistic Tree of Life = Human Brain = Internet.

But that doesn't quite explain everything in the thesis, does it? I'm afraid it doesn't, and in order to do that, I need to explain what magic is, and how it works, in my particular universe. Since this is already running a bit long and I don't want to fall victim to the dreaded "too long; didn't read" syndrome, I'm going to take a break here and save the crazed occultism for my next post.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Curse/Or Summarized

In one minute, this video perfectly encapsulates and summarizes everything you need to know about the world in which Curse/Or exists.


Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Beard

Despite what you think, I'm not a woman. Not really. I like to think of myself as one, but I'm not. I'm... something else. It's hard to explain, but I'll try.

I have a beard. I have to shave every day. And every day, I look in that mirror, and what I see isn't myself. It's some... thing... that's supposed to be me, but isn't. No, the true me is behind my eyes, like the flesh in front of me is some kind of meat-mecha that the real me is piloting.

Every day I do this. Every day I engage in a ritual that doesn't belong to me, because having hair on my face makes me feel like a man and I'd rather die than feel that way.

I have hair all over my body. My chest, my legs, even my back, goddammit. Every day I shave it, and every night it grows back. And it's dark hair. The kind that refuses to be concealed, even when I shave so close that I make myself bleed and then cover the follicles with makeup. I have to pancake the concealer on, and even then you can see it if you're close enough. And then, naturally, I start to sweat it off. By the end of the day you can see stubble poking through.

People stare at me when I go out in public. I try not to let it bother me, I tell myself that what I'm doing isn't illegal, that I have every right to be myself as long as I'm not hurting anyone, but I can only take the furtive looks and whispered comments for so long before it starts to affect my temper. Some days, I just want to run and hide under a large rock. Other days, usually during my cycle, I'm likely to get violently angry.

This one man... oh my god, I get sick just thinking about it. But he was looking at me. You know how it goes: first he looked at my boobs, then at my legs, and then at my hands. By the time he got to my face, I know what he was thinking. He had this horrified expression and his mouth was hanging open in disgust or dismay or something, I don't know, and he was about to say something but I bit his head off before he could speak.

The sickening part is how satisfied I felt about that all the rest of the day. I had tasted blood, and I wanted more. It wasn't until later that night that I'd realized what I'd done. That I'd reacted in a typically masculine way. I called in sick the next day, because I couldn't face myself in the mirror to shave.

The day after that, I went shopping for silver bracelets. I needed to punish myself, because the courts can't. I wore them every day that week, as penance. Now, whenever I start to feel too aggressive, I put them on. I used to just take Aconite herbal supplements, but ever since Andre Noble overdosed on it, it's been nearly impossible to get without a prescription. The bracelets leave a nasty rash, but I can take them off if it gets to be too much for me.

It's a good thing I have allergies. I just tell people it's contact dermatitis.

I'm completely, utterly miserable most of the time. I've tried killing myself, but at the last minute my animal nature takes over and it always wants to live. All I end up doing is finding new and creative ways to hurt myself badly.

But I have a new plan. I'm going to get a supply catalog for photographers, purchase some developer, and put it in an autoinjector. That way, when I feel the change coming, maybe the silver nitrate will kill me before I transform again.

Because I'd rather die as a woman than live one more day as a goddamn werewolf.

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