Light reading on Parmenides of Elea

When checking out light and heavy and Parmenides, I came across the following English translation of his words and had reactions thereof.

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/parmenides/#WayInq
OMG ... this is anti-psychotic!

"…for this may never be made manageable, that things that are not are./ But you from this way of inquiry restrain your understanding,/ and do not let habit born of much experience force you along this way,/ to employ aimless sight and echoing hearing/ and tongue. But judge by reason the strife-filled critique/ I have delivered”

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/parmenides/#WayCon

OK ... for a man with a hammer everything looks like a nail--this is psychotic.

“whole and uniform”: “Nor is it divided, since it is all alike;/ and it is not any more there, which would keep it from holding together,/ nor any worse, but it is all replete with What Is./ Therefore it is all continuous: for What Is draws to What Is.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parmenides#Interpretations_of_Parmenides

Some encouraging remarks about the not-so-beaten-es-muss-sein path I have traversed and I am round like a meatball.... lol

Welcome, youth, who come attended by immortal charioteers and mares which bear you on your journey to our dwelling. For it is no evil fate that has set you to travel on this road, far from the beaten paths of men, but right and justice. It is meet that you learn all things — both the unshakable heart of well-rounded truth and the opinions of mortals in which there is not true belief.

Oh... Mr. Parmesan Cheese (Easier to remember) is grand-father-in even though not quite enough is left about what he actually said.

Parmenides' considerable influence on the thinking of Plato is undeniable, and in this respect Parmenides has influenced the whole history ofWestern philosophy, and is often seen as its grandfather.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parmenides#Influence_on_the_development_of_science

What is so commonplace today was once-upon-a-time prior ignorance. Wow!

A shadow of Parmenides' ideas can be seen in the physical concept of Block time, which considers existence to consist of past, present, and future, and the flow of time to be illusory. In his critique of this idea, Karl Popper called Einstein "Parmenides".[25] However, Popper did write:

So what was really new in Parmenides was his axiomatic-deductive method, which Leucippus and Democritus turned into a hypothetical-deductive method, and thus made part of scientific methodology.[26]

Sinclair Lewis--Main Street plus reflection

Finally finished reading Main Street and I think it might be a good time to do some reflection on what I gathered through reading.

Everyone has a life story in which someone else's garden is always greener and no suffering could be grander than one's own.

Back to quotes I like from Main Street by Sinclair Lewis:

1. settled into submission to poverty.
2. among the shadows of dead thoughts and haunting repressions.
3. the unprotected houses would crouch together in terror of storms galloping out of that wild waste.
4. An impressive barricade of green and gold wheels, of shafts and sulky seats, belonging to machinery of which Carol knew nothing— potato-planters,
5. Miss Bea was a stalwart, corn-colored, laughing young woman, and she was bored by farm-work. She desired the excitements of city-life, and the way to enjoy city-life was, she had decided, to "go get a yob as hired girl in Gopher Prairie." (Good contrast!)
6. shining with welcome.
7. let her tired spirit be absorbed in the Nirvana of the incomparable sky.
8. the decency of clean bareness.
9. One trouble with books is that they're not so thoroughly safeguarded by intelligent censors as the movies are,
10. My religion is so foggy.
11. overwhelming belief in the brains and hearts of our nation, our state, our town.
12. this high-art stuff that doesn't encourage us day-laborers to plod on."
13. Let's make Gopher Prairie rock to its foundations: let's have afternoon tea instead of afternoon coffee. (What's the tea and coffee thing? Don't get it 8-O)
14. She wheezed in, sighed, gave Carol a pulpy hand, sighed, glanced sharply at the revelation of ankles as Carol crossed her legs, sighed, inspected the new blue chairs, smiled with a coy sighing sound, and gave voice ...
15. the party was again elevated to the decorum of a prayer-meeting.
16. Raymond hasn't an unusually good voice, but don't you think he puts such a lot of feeling into it? (Sounds almost like my writing. lol)
17. poisoned with doubt,
18. herself— overstimulated by the drug of thought, and offensively on the defensive.
19. an intellectual squalor; a swamp of prejudices and fears.
20. a seed to sprout and some day with thickening roots to crack their wall of mediocrity.
21. 
    
22. (This book is very Woody Allen style though Lewis came first.)
23. 
    
24. there can never be genuine beauty without the message from the heart.
25. Carol's hero-worship dwindled to polite nodding, and the nodding dwindled to a desire to escape, and she went home with a headache.
26. God has never done much but creep around and try to catch us disobeying it.
27. Then I found that the Village Virus had me, absolute .... That's all of the biography of a living dead man, except the diverting last chapter, the lies about my having been 'a tower of strength and legal wisdom' which some day a preacher will spin over my lean dry body."
28. And the penalty we tribal rulers pay is that our subjects watch us every minute. We can't get wholesomely drunk and relax. We have to be so correct about sex morals, and inconspicuous clothes, and doing our commercial trickery only in the traditional ways, that none of us can live up to it, and we become horribly hypocritical.
29. Oh, my dear, I haven't talked to anybody about myself and all our selves for years."
30. You are within your legal rights in refusing to be subjected to this summing-up. I'm a tedious old fool analyzing the obvious, while you're the spirit of rebellion.
31. I'm trying to develop my own large capacity for dullness and contentment.
32. in great dignity and self-dramatization, she returned to bed.
33. you always talk so much about getting all you can out of life, and not letting the years slip by, and here you deliberately go and deprive yourself of a lot of real good home pleasure by not enjoying people unless ....
34. You'll find these characters in all these small towns, and a pile of savvy in every single one of them, if you just dig for it."
35. Night witchery and morning disillusion were alike forgotten in the march of realities and days.
36. She was like the revolutionist at fifty: not afraid of death, but bored by the probability of bad steaks and bad breaths and sitting up all night on windy barricades.
37. She was snatched back from a dream of far countries, and found herself on Main Street.
38. The words and the light blurred into one vast indefinite happiness,
39. The night expanded, she was conscious of the universe, and all mysteries stooped down to her. (This is a good way of describing that winter night when I found in myself with the power to connect with stars etc--the universe and beyond.)
40. they said the same things in the same hearty monotonous voices.
41. the only way to be artistic is to present Shakespeare. As no one listened to her she sat back and looked like Lady Macbeth.
42. They had borrowed Carol's manuals of play-production and had become extremely stagey in vocabulary.
43. frightened into paralysis.
44. for three years which passed like one curt paragraph,
45. Her condescension was ruined and her humility wholesomely increased
46. In the plodding course of her life there was nothing changed, and nothing new.
47. THE greatest mystery about a human being is not his reaction to sex or praise, but the manner in which he contrives to put in twenty-four hours a day. It is this which puzzles the long-shoreman about the clerk, the Londoner about the bushman.
48. It has not yet been recorded that any human being has gained a very large or permanent contentment from meditation upon the fact that he is better off than others. (Lord, this is great! lol)
49. she felt herself being ironed into glossy mediocrity, and she rebelled, in fear.
50. The cloud of serene ignorance submerges them in unhappiness and futility.
51. Not till he had climbed to his office and found another sign on the door, another Dr. Kennicott inside, would he understand that something curious had presumably happened.
52. "... How can you expect to do anything with it if you haven't any sympathy?" "But I have! And affection. Or else I wouldn't fume so.
53. Passengers looking from trains saw her as a village woman of fading prettiness, incorruptible virtue, and no abnormalities;
54. raged mutely against the indifferent gods:
55. Do they think they can make me believe that a display of potatoes at Howland & Gould's is enough beauty and strangeness?"
56. "The young do the work while these old ones sit around and interrupt us and gag with hate because they're too feeble to do anything but hate,"
57. making an earnest business of sleeping.
58. He's a servant of reality."
59. "You don't have to stay. I do! So I want to change it.
60. to tear at the shroud of intimacy, to perceive the strangeness of the most familiar.
61. She shut the door on her thoughts. That was sacred ground.
62. he was shocked by Carol's lack of faith, and wasn't quite sure what was the nature of the faith that she lacked. (lol)
63. he had the grace of a cat. (Nice!)
64. I wonder how much of the cement is made out of the tombstones of John Keatses? (Never read Keats other than roses are red. But this sounds good.)
65. the town's principle of perfect democracy was not meant to be applied indiscriminately. (Some variation to all animals are equal.)
66. flamed like a recent convert to any faith.
67. myths that broad plains necessarily make broad minds, and high mountains make high purpose.
68. be bullied and BULLIED by the faith that the future is already here in the present, and that all of us must stay and worship wheat-stacks and insist that this is 'God's Country'— and never, of course, do anything original or gay-colored that would help to make that future! Anyway, you don't belong here.
69. "Though I despise these people who interfere. He must be independent."
70. unheroic heroine in a drama insanely undramatic. (Why can't I build sentences like this?!)
71. But she knew that she still had no plan in life, save always to go along the same streets, past the same people, to the same shops.
72. the house reeked with a colorless stillness.
73. The chart which plots Carol's progress is not easy to read. The lines are broken and uncertain of direction; often instead of rising they sink in wavering scrawls; and the colors are watery blue and pink and the dim gray of rubbed pencil marks. A few lines are traceable.
74. She knew that there was nothing heroic or obviously dramatic in it, no magic of rare hours, nor valiant challenge, but it seemed to her that she was of some significance because she was commonplaceness, the ordinary life of the age, made articulate and protesting.
75. ask why it is, and who first laid down the law that it had to be that way. If enough of us do this impolitely enough, then we'll become civilized in merely twenty thousand years or so, instead of having to wait the two hundred thousand years
76. I may not have fought the good fight, but I have kept the faith."

Edith Wharton--The Age of Innocence

Quotes from The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. I had no idea until somewhere in the reading process that the author was actually female. lol


It was a winter evening of transparent clearness, with an innocent young moon above the house-tops (p. 86).

the Family Physician annoyed with a patient whose symptoms refuse to be classified. (p. 83).

Does no one want to know the truth here, Mr. Archer? The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!" (p. 70).

from farther wounding herself in her mad plunges against fate. (p. 86).

accepted them as part of the structure of his universe. He knew that there were societies where painters and poets and novelists and men of science, and even great actors, were as sought after as Dukes; (p. 92).

wondering if it were lightness or dissimulation that enabled her to touch so easily on the past at the very moment when she was risking her reputation in order to break with it. (p. 95).

plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate. (p. 102). (Wow ... beautiful!)

over many of them the green mould of the perfunctory was already perceptibly spreading. (p. 113).

what would become of this narrow margin of life in which his real experiences were lived? (p. 113).

whose horizon was bounded by the Battery and the Central Park. How should any one coming from a wider world not feel the difference and be attracted by it? (p. 124).

the thought that a barrier of words should drop between them again. (p. 152).

too intelligent to be the slave of such absurd superstitions. (p. 153).

"It's their armour," he thought, "their defence against the unknown, and their defiance of it." (p. 178).

this eager impecunious young man who had fared so richly in his poverty. (p. 180).

What if "niceness" carried to that supreme degree were only a negation, the curtain dropped before an emptiness? (p. 191).

it was the same world after all, though he had such a queer sense of having slipped through the meshes of time and space. (p. 205).

so chained to their separate destinies that they might as well have been half the world apart. (p. 219).

she said, as if it were something visible and measurable, like a crack in a house. (p. 232)

sank back into the thought (p. 274)

There was nothing unknown or unfamiliar in the path he was presumably to tread (p. 278).

it made the righteous reprobation of New York seem like a passing by on the other side. (p. 280).

mouldered in unvisited loneliness. (p. 281).

Its glass shelves were crowded with small broken objects— hardly recognisable domestic utensils, ornaments and personal trifles— made of glass, of clay, of discoloured bronze and other time-blurred substances ... after a while nothing matters ... any more than these little things, that used to be necessary and important to forgotten people, and now have to be guessed at under a magnifying glass and labelled: 'Use unknown.'" (p. 282).

suffer the stupid law of change. (p. 282)

walked listlessly through the room like a ghost stalking through a necropolis. (p. 284)

Conformity to the discipline of a small society had become almost his second nature. (p. 295)

looking over at her as if the slight distance between them were an unbridgeable abyss. (p. 297)

in a state of odd imponderability (p. 307)

He guessed himself to have been, for months, the centre of countless silently observing eyes and patiently listening ears; he understood that, by means as yet unknown to him, the separation between himself and the partner of his guilt had been achieved, and that now the whole tribe had rallied about his wife on the tacit assumption that nobody knew anything, or had ever imagined anything, and that the occasion of the entertainment was simply May Archer's natural desire to take an affectionate leave of her friend and cousin. (p. 308) (This and some following verses are perfectly psychotic!)

It was the old New York way of taking life "without effusion of blood": the way of people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than "scenes," except the behaviour of those who gave rise to them. (p. 308)

The talk swept past Archer like some senseless river running and running because it did not know enough to stop. (p. 311)

so the evening swept on, running and running like a senseless river that did not know how to stop. (p. 311)

Now, as he reviewed his past, he saw into what a deep rut he had sunk. (p. 323)

There are moments when a man's imagination, so easily subdued to what it lives in, suddenly rises above its daily level, and surveys the long windings of destiny. (p. 323)

in the odour of prosperity (p. 324)

"The difference is that these young people take it for granted that they're going to get whatever they want, and that we almost always took it for granted that we shouldn't. (pp. 324-325)

it had never been possible to inculcate in him even the rudiments of reserve. (pp. 326-327)

You just sat and watched each other, and guessed at what was going on underneath. A deaf-and-dumb asylum  (p. 327)

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime. (p. 327)

only a pathetic instance of vain frustration, of wasted forces. (p. 328)

while the stream of life rolled by.... (p. 328)

The boy was not insensitive, he knew; but he had the facility and self-confidence that came of looking at fate not as a master but as an equal. (p. 329)

The day was fading into a soft sun-shot haze, pricked here and there by a yellow electric light (p. 330)

"It's more real to me here than if I went up," (p. 332) (Too much reality is not what people want. lol)

Quotes from The Humans A novel by Matt Haig

Just finished reading "The Humans: A novel", a book about an unprepared alien spy on earth, and found some interesting quotes to share with the Humans or otherwise.

1. She was suffering from grief. A grief for not just the loss of her husband but also the loss of familiar reality.  (P. 250)
2. You had to stay consistent to life's delusions. All you had was your perspective, so objective truth was meaningless. You had to choose a dream and stick with it. (P. 251)
3. Don't try to be cool. The whole universe is cool. It's the warm bits that matter. (p. 258)
4. Make sure, as often as possible, you are doing something you'd be happy to die doing. (P. 260)
5. When you watch the news and see members of your species in turmoil, do not think there is nothing you can do. But know it is not done by watching news. (p. 260)
6. At the subatomic level, everything is complex. But you do not live at the subatomic level. You have the right to simplify. (p. 261)
7. And now I'm here with nothing, but I am myself with nothing. An honest bloody nothing. (P. 271)

onset book

First draft of my book on the onset finally completed. 

In Plain Sight-- Voir

An epic suspense by Ratprincess Bored

In plain sight--Voir

Follow the white rabbit ....

Private eyes, watching you ....

Writ--what's in it?

There's something about Lord Byron.

'Tis the sign from upstairs for the day. So it concludes In Plain Sight--Voir

(Now I have my fun--insane in my own eyes. lol Back to work work. :-|)

P.S., The core of psychotic thinking-everything is coded and signs are everywhere. e.g., Ratprincess Bored vs. Jason Borne-the movie I just watched. (Come to think about it. Gotta check to see whether it's done in my writing.)  

Theories and assumptions

Was reading up Information Mechanics, a theory proposed by my friend Fred and find the following quotes in one of the article particularly interesting. Think I would share with you.

1. A theory is unable to explain its own assumptions. A theory which tries to do so is called a tautology.
2. Space, time, mass, energy ... are put into CM (classical mechanics) and QM (quantum mechanics) as assumptions. For this reason, it is not possible for CM and/or QM to explain any of them; a fundamentally different tool, which does not use those assumptions is necessary.

KANTOR, F. (1986-12-01). Information Mechanics Perspective on Some Assumptions in Classical Mechanics and Quantum Mechanics about Measurement. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 480(1 new technique), 581-584.doi:10.1111/j.1749-6632.1986.tb12467.x

Please see a brief description of Fred's theory below.

Da Eternal Love--object of love

Decided to pull out this love letter again today and found the object of love could be the books or the readers I try to reach with loving intentions.

Is it pure dumbness, insanity, or faith? Donno.  

The only thing I am certain is "I would not be beshamed to confront myself and will not regret in the future having nothing done" because I am doing and have done the best I can despite of constraints. As for the outcome, "I still do not know where it will go" and beyond my control.

Ratology Reloaded: The answer: Rereading Da Eternal Love ... The question I have for myself is that... Was it pure dumbness or was it faith? Is it better to fall freely...

Some useless mumble jumble when the fountain is running dry .... Muse, muse, where art thou?

Da Eternal Love

Waking up in the morning, I saw the weather had changed. I was wondering how cold it would be this year. Would it be colder or milder? I cannot choose nor do I have the power to decide the weather condition. The only thing I could do is to decide my own attitude towards the conditions. I am no pan-determinist but I apprehend that the truth that human being is not omnipotent.

Likewise, falling in love was just a state of mind. It made me anxious and somehow spoiled my life. Should I have stayed cool and calm, no extreme disturbance would have occurred and so much more work could have been done. Flirtation does no harm inasmuch the heart does not become involved. However, I betrayed my best interest and fell into a chaotic phase.

If I wanted to protect myself from being hurt by the same old scenario, I should have held back my affection, blockaded my emotions, and kept you away from my sight. Yet, I refrained from withdrawing. I refused to regress to the infantile stage of "out-of-sight-out-of-mind". I saw that, in the distant future, our fates would converge: not referring to our together-here-after-happy-life, but rather the inescapable end of our life journey. I could not bear seeing myself regretting when it is too late, the words I could have said and the things I could have done.

Some said that my thoughts are morbid and a smile is the response. For I always know that, if life is mortal and nothing lasts forever (not even diamond), I had better strive to live my life for significance. This belief gives me the strength to hold on. Out of the question, you or anyone else could not comprehend what could have and still sustain my faith in love, because neither could I. A friend of mine once questioned me, "How is it possible for you to be in love this way?" There is no easy answer. The only thing I can say, is......

Value does not push men to do a deed; it can only pull one to towards an action.

I have to be the one in charge of my fate, at least partially. Since the day that I realized the insufficiency of my being, I made up my mind to be what I want to be with all my might, disregarding the inevitable agony and distress. I want to be with you and it will always be the statement of my life. It reveals my cathexis in you, regardless my realization in the ultimate destiny, not death but aloneness. I know for sure that, before death, we can never avoid being alone. We will be sitting under the sunset, precipitating our demise. We might be surrounded by people, but still deemed to be alone, just like those in a nursing home.

You always asked me why I volunteered in places like the hospital where bereavement and suffering takes place. The scene might not be pleasurable yet insightful. There, I saw how ephemeral life could be and I learned how precious our infinitesimal life is. Such experiences might have reinforced my fixation in you. Thus, I promised myself that I would always cherish the time with you.

You know something? I am the one who is responsible for the inconsolable situation in which I am trapped. I did not withhold my feelings and just let it flow. I have to take my share of responsibility for the free-running emotion of mine. As a human being, I have the freedom to choose. The price I paid for this freedom is the obligation to commit myself to this engagement. Therefore, when I said to you that "I will be waiting for you", it was also a commitment to myself. I did not and still do not regret it, and, I surely will not. As long as I give myself this try, whatever the cost may be, I am making effort to authenticate my life. I would not be beshamed to confront myself and will not regret in the future having nothing done.

However, in bearing the responsibility, I am also making effort to prevent myself from being vulnerable. When I am responsible, I have the control to make the next movement rather than waiting for the stars to fall. It helps me be stronger. Thus, my days would not be like hell.

I am not like a tyrant. You have your own existence and you make your own choice. I could not force you to accept my affections as they are. I had set no ultimate goal for my trials since no one has power over his own destiny. I am no pan-determinist; however, I believe in fate. I had managed, and, will continue to push my fate some more, although I still do not know where it will go.

Crystal--Jump!

Since I am still trying to get my books out and there is a feeling that my whole body is decaying in the speed of light, I start to all things to keep the writing process and my body moving.

Then, the notion of chakra came upon me and I got matching stones placed on my 7 chakras in the night. (Yes, I am crazy but whatever works to get the writing done.)

This morning, when I tried to go back to sleep after a toilet break, I laid the stones in their usual locations, placed my right hand up on my pillow, and tried to sleep.

Suddenly, the clear crystal standing between my eye brows jumped into my hand. Whether I was dreaming about it or not, I went on trying to get back to sleep.

Then, I found articles like this.

http://www.natureasia.com/en/nmiddleeast/article/10.1038/nmiddleeast.2014.173

UV enabled movement? Lord, I was in bed trying to sleep.

Strange things happen to me all the times but this one crystal jump got my attention---my bed is far from the windows, and should the UV hypothesis holds, doesn't it mean I have to wear sunscreen even when sleeping?

A thought on mortality rate

I always know my life expectancy is supposed to be shorter than the general population. This is the first time I saw it quantified.

Individuals with serious mental illness (SMI), including schizophrenia, schizoaffective and bipolar disorder have 1.5–2.5 times the mortality risk of the general population^1–3 and a 10–20 year reduction in life expectancy⁴ with the majority of the excess deaths being due to natural causes.¹

http://schizophreniabulletin.oxfordjournals.org/content/41/3/644.full

Personally, I believe the differences should be bigger because some could have died before the diagnosis were applied. For instance, I could have taken the shortcut to escape all the non-existing stress during the psychotic onset when not even my shrink knew what was going on in my head since I didn't share it with him.

But since the onset was eons ago , the stats remained relevant. Since the majority of excess death were due to natural causes, if I am this kind of excess, may God bless me a quick and painless death. Amen.

P.S. Excess death? Never heard of this expression before. 

What do I think of?

Please assume the identity of I when reading the events below, meaning you are I.

1. I spent all night, last night, trying to figure out a new word for a section of my book concerning bars and the bar. I came up with barrista.
2. A friend told me about this linguistic thing called cranberry morpheme and I emailed him about the word barrista I came up with based on three words: barista, barrister, and gangsta.
3. After the email was sent, I went on FB and saw this NY Times article share by a linguist friend with the nice pix below.

4. I read through the article and loved the closing remark: "As you learn quickly here in Vegas, the game isn’t rigged, but the odds don’t work in your favor."

What do I think of now these events were singled out and linked sequentially in my mind?

After this point, please reclaim your identity as you and leave me's to be me's.

What do I think of first and what do I think of afterwards?

There were some things I did not mention such as I let the online slot game run automatically as I work on my writing every day. How would unexplicated information like it impact how you thought while you were I? Did the notion of synchronicity surface your mind?

The passing of John and Alicia Nash

RIP. John and Alicia Nash and best wishes to their family.

John F. Nash Jr., Mathematician Whose Life Story Inspired ‘A Beautiful Mind,’ Dies at 86

Spooky probability

Based on rumors, late in the night at that old college of mine, you might be able to hear "Tab, Tab, Tab ... Ding ... zzzzzzzzzzzip" coming from right above you. But walking upstairs to the source of noise, you will find no office, an activity room instead, and the sound of silence.

It might be one hardworking professor on an old typewriter, doing the graveyard shift on unfinished research business long after the terminal retirement.

My adrenaline level just skyrocketed at the foremost formidable ghost story. I might have to work on this thing after my best before date? That's the biggest fear in my life.

You see, if something happens to me. All that I have worked on will be gone with me. This damn business would be unfinished.

I am really into being a spook, ceaselessly slaving away in eternity.

Then, today, I shared links to the complete "Down with Meds" blog, the not-published-Ratology book, the folder to different versions of the final drafts for the still-in-process "Second Book," which retains only selective writings from DWM, and the folder to the "Third Book," formerly known as the introduction chapter about my psychotic onset in the "Second Book."

That shall cut the spooky probability much further down ... I hope ... and Ratology might sing this song to me when the day of duty-free arrives.






PS. The sentence-long paragraph sounds mighty confusing?


Yes, that's the way I like it especially after trying to make myself writing in proper English since the beginning of the Second Book! It's also really annoying that I can't embed multimedia stuff like youtube clips in the book.

I don't know jack: John's revelation

I knew the relationship between John and the word in the beginning. However, it was not until today did I realize John, this one or not debatable, also had something to do with the book of Revelation?!

John is credited as the author of the Book of Revelation, relating his vision of the end of the world. http://www.stjohndivine.org/about/architecture/cathedral-symbolic 

I really don't know jack. 

From Snowden to Ratology Risk Management Plan

Finally gotten all the main content set for the book about my psychotic onset in 2000-2001 yesterday--the original introduction chapter for the first out of 3 Ratology book..

Haphazardly, I came across this interview on Snowden today. Being in Taiwan, I didn't pay too much attention to the news when it first came out. I just knew some guy worked for the US government gave some some information and escaped to some European country.

After listening to the interview, I got some basic ideas about the whole Snowden affair and pondered .... "What's so secrete about it? I knew since Y2K that the governments, wherever I was, records everything about me except I don't know why, what they want to do about it, and how they are going to analyze the data."

There are benefits to it, personally. The FACT that every keystroke was monitored has given me a sense of relief.

In case something happen to me, things in my head would be lost but all the work I have put into the whole damn Ratology thing, all the writing, and all the data collected, will be retained.  

There are people with root accesses to all my accounts. It's a piece of cake to obtain and recover everything I have ever produced. To make it easier, I back ratology-related things up on various accounts in the cloud for fear of server problems on one of service providers. In terms of what they could do with them is beyond my bandwidth and will be none of my business at the point..

What if nobody ever gives a rats ass about me? At the very end, it'd be none of my business at that point just as, in this life, I am just stuck with my paranoid delusional belief. lol

Space Shuttle Columbia

I remember that day when the accident happened.



I was on the eighth floor of St. Lucke's, looking out of the window at the St. John, telepathically communicating with the astronauts while wishing God for a miracle to let all to be safe and sound.



NASA reports new details of Columbia deaths

Death of Death as in Death of a Black Hole

Black holes have always been something so very mysterious to me.

In my much younger years, I learned that after a star much much bigger than our sun goes bye bye, it could turn into a black hole--with things dragging into it failing to escape as if in quicksand, and possibly creating an entrance to another universe.

Then I learned that not only do black holes swallow up stars and give birth to baby universes, they could also help to deliver the birth of baby stars--through the jet streams they spew out after biting more than they could chew.

It had never occurred to me until today that, "Since nothing last forever, could Black Holes, sort of like death itself, die?

That's an interesting new question to me though an old question, apparently, to the others.

In short, yes, theoretically, death itself could face its own death as black holes will die eventually save I won't live long enough to see it and, possibly, even this universe we reside in isn't old enough to behold its occurrence.

Read Quote of Frank Heile's answer to What would the "death" of a Black Hole look like? on Quora

Evaporation, what an interesting kind of terminal death--reminding me how everything died "cleanly" after their death by evaporating into the ether through my body during my second Apocalypse. :-O

Woolfy Style and expectation again

After finishing A room of one's own with the slot game of "the big bad wolf and three piglets" spinning on its own on the side, I found myself in a fog.

Ok, I did find traces of Mrs. Dalloway but "This is the Woolfy style?"

The fog I found myself in was a result of cognitive dissonance. Something expected was missing.

Based on the impression I got from bibliographical info online or the movie, The Hour, there had to be a hint of depression (not quite sure whether it's the right word) in the writing of this legendary lady who went with the river of no return--like what I sensed in Wallace's "A supposedly fun thing I will never do again," which, by the way, was considered as extremely funny and humorous by quite a lot of people.



Since I don't know squat about literature and writing, I have no business to meddle with what might contribute to what I sense in people's writing, or the content.

One thing I know is that Woolf must have had the work done when depression gave her a break, whether she was in the manic phase or not. If it's true, I have to really thank her for managing to bring herself out of depression when not required to be in it. It's because it somehow pains me greatly to read things that are supposed to be on the sunny side while something in the writing tells me, "The author is sort of like ... very depressed?"--whether the authors themselves know it or not, and whether it's my disordered thinking or not.

I was actually pretty afraid of Virginia Woolf--more precisely, reading her work--A room of one's own. It's a good thing that the estimated value of expectation is far off from the true value this round, when I learn that the "my feel" kind of thing is considered by me part of the stuff called a style (whether it belongs to other people's style or not, and whether it would remain so for me or not).





(P.S., Though I said I don't have the audacity to comment on the content, Woolf's emphasis on the progression of the collective does remind me of my call for the mental nation to strive on, helping ourselves and helping others to help ourselves, for the benefit of the future generation of we mentals--in the book I completed that was far too long and thus not published.)

Curious George et al

I think that I knew Adam Bede was written by George Eliot when listening to the audio book.

Apparently, in Du côté de chez Swann, the rare volume of Proust's work that I managed to plow through, writing of George Sand were mentioned.

When I read the Chinese version of Jane Eyre, it never occurred to me the book was written by Currur Bell.

I just encountered these names when going through the rationale of Woolf's claim that in order for a woman to write fictions, she needs to have money and a room.

No, I didn't come to this book because I want to write fictions. I am already beyond sick and tired of writing with my limited English proficiency at this point. I arrived at this book because I have no inkling of the Woolfy style.

Then, I came across this sentence as I was trying to get a sense of this style thing ...

"Currer Bell, George Eliot, George Sand, all the victims of inner strife as their writings prove, sought ineffectively to veil themselves by using the name of a man."

This illiterate thought, "Eh, the name George Eliot sounds familiar."

The sense of familiarity led me to reread the sentence again, which got me confused, "You mean these men were women?" (And, yes, there really can be someone ignorant like me.)

So I went googling around, "Wow, it's true. The authors were female except they used a male pen name. They could have saved the whole trouble if their parents had named them with my name since it's a male name."

Then it struck me--the power of expectation in the process of mindless interpretation.

Midway through the book, I know where Virginia Woolf was going even though I have been reading more for her style than for content. Yet, despite the context and the fact that she explicitly stated that A, B, and C used "the name of a man," upon the presence of A, B, and C, a part of my head already established the expectation that these male authors were mentioned for certain argumentative purpose. As a result, my head almost stopped processing upon the presence of that expectation.

Since the purpose of my reading is to get a sense of the Woolfy style, it's nothing traumatic except, "Shit! How much of what I have learned in life so far is a result of the George et al phenomena?" :-X

Anyways, not quite sure whether this book is representative of the Woolfy style since it seems to be different from the trip Mrs. Dalloway took to get the flowers--as long as it's not like searching through Torrents of Spring for Hemingway's style. lol

(Thought I might post something since it's been a while since my last blurb.)