Tropic of Capricorn exerpt

I have a friend who talks to me from time to time about the Miracle of Golgotha of which I understand nothing. But I do know something about the miraculous wound which I received, the wound which killed me in the eyes of the world and out of which I was born anew and rebaptized. I know something of the miracle of this wound which I lived and which healed with my death. I tell it as of something long past, but it is with me always. Everything is long past and seemingly invisible, like a constellation which has sunk forever beneath the horizon. What fascinates me is that anything so dead and buried as I was could be resuscitated, and not just once, but innumerable times. And not only that, but each time I faded out I plunged deeper than ever into the void, so that with each resuscitation the miracle becomes greater. And never any stigmata! The man who is reborn is always the same man, more and more himself with each rebirth. He is only shedding his skin each time, and with his skin his sins. The man whom God loves is truly a right living man. The man whom God loves is the onion with a million skins. To shed the first layer is painful beyond words; the next layer is less painful, the next still less, until finally the pain becomes pleasurable, more and more pleasurable, a delight, an ecstasy. And then there is neither pleasure not pain, but simply darkness yielding before the light. And as the darkness falls away the wound comes out of its hiding place: the wound which is man, man's love, is bathed in light. The identity which was lost is recovered. Man walks forth from his open wound, from the grave which he had carried about with him so long. In the tomb which is my memory I see her buried now, the one I loved better than all else, better than the world, better than God, better than my own flesh and blood. I see her festering there in that bloody wound of love, so dose to me that I could not distinguish her from the wound itself. I see her struggling to free herself, to make herself clean of love pain, and with each struggle sinking back again into the wound, mired, suffocated, writhing in blood. I see the terrible look in her eyes, the mute piteous agony, the look of the beast that is trapped. I see her opening her legs for deliverance and each orgasm a groan of anguish. I hear the walls falling, the walls caving in on us and the house going up in flames. I hear them calling us from the street, the summons to work, the summons to arms, but we are nailed to the floor and the rats are biting into us. The grave and womb of love entombing us, the night filling our bowels and the stars shimmering over the black bottomless lake. I lose the memory of words, of her name even which I pronounced like a monomaniac. I forgot what she looked like, what she felt like, what she smelt like, what she fucked like, piercing deeper and deeper into the night of the fathomless cavern. I followed her to the deepest hole of her being, to the charnel house of her soul, to the breath which had not yet expired from her lips. I sought relentlessly for her whose name was not written anywhere, I penetrated to the very altar and found - nothing. I wrapped myself around this hollow shell of nothingness like a serpent with fiery coils; I lay still for six centuries without breathing as world events sieved through to the bottom forming a slimy bed of mucus. I saw the constellations wheeling about the huge hole in the ceiling of the universe: I saw the outer planets and the black star which was to deliver me. I saw the Dragon shaking itself free of dharma and karma, saw the new race of man stewing in the yolk of futurity. I saw through to the last sign and symbol, but I could not read her face. I could see only the eyes shining through, huge, fleshy-like luminous breasts, as though I were swim- ming behind them in the electric effluvia of her incandescent vision. How had she come to expand thus beyond all grip of consciousness? By what monstrous law had she spread herself thus over the face of the world, revealing everything and yet concealing herself? She was hidden in the face of the sun, like the moon in eclipse; she was a mirror which had lost its quicksilver, the mirror which yields both the image and the horror. Looking into the backs of her eyes, into the pulpy translucent flesh, I saw the brain structure of all formations, all relations, all evanescence. I saw the brain within the brain, the endless machine endlessly turning, the word Hope revolving on a spit, roasting, dripping with fat, revolving ceaselessly in the cavity of the third eye. I heard her dreams mumbled in lost tongues, the stifled screams reverberating in minute crevices, the gasps, the groans, the pleasurable sighs, the swish of lashing whips. I heard her call my own name which I had not yet uttered, I heard her curse and shriek with rage. I heard everything magnified a thousand times, like a homunculus imprisoned in the belly organ. I caught the muffled breathing of the world, as if fixed in the very crossroads of sound. Thus we walked and slept and ate together, the Siamese twins whom Love had joined and whom Death alone could separate.

Just great. Now I know that I really don't know what I want.

And there are so many advertisements faking me out.
Ass, titties, big macs, delicious pizza... social interaction being shown to me on sesame street, sit-coms, my little ponies.
The part of ourselves that encodes the "primal chao" or whatever you want to call it, the core of ultra-introspection... lies (verb).
It lies and says the easiest thing to keep the other liars happy. (as well as itself)
IF that makes any sense. I'm not even high.
There's a liar in every head, and its the language user.
I suppose that's why people are interested in nuerolinguistic programming, because it's studying the physiological reactions that are "truthier" than words and logical-rationality (I don't even know what logical-rationality is anymore...)
That's when I start defining logic with terms and it gets dialectical and impossible to say anything true without 300 pages and a flaw in the extrapolation of whatever axioms I've set at the beginning of the treatise >.<
Flawed circular logic and I can't run away from it.

Non-philosophy, Non-euclidean geometry, dada art
The only things that contain truth that isn't being put through the mesh of lies.
Or so I SAY. >.<

I'm hungry.

Thank you lesswrong for rocking my world even harder. Gonna cry now, yay, systems.
http://lesswrong.com/lw/5sk/inferring_our_desires/

Nah, not going to cry. Read some more, and it's like what - how did I let words get past my liar and to my sacred chao?
Feelings of helplessness, unknowing, fear, stagnation.
Sophomoric reversion, bouncing between mature and childish, do I really? What do I even mean, this ramble is nothing but a smear of word-dash on the crimson tide rising... a false-hood-try-hard-wanna-be.
I get attracted to


........................................................................................

Just writing to myself

EDIT: Gonna read this (article on inferring our desires) (I haven't even read it and I am posting a link to it on my blag, wtfak)
So 11 days have passed since I wrote my last post.
I've been getting randomly obsessed with details... and ponies, but now that the season two tension is over, my mind is clearer and I feel free to begin working on something again.
I wrote down some ideas and the technologies that I want to use in order to realize them into the world:
Open source hardware site - I want to make availiable kits in a novel way, maybe something like the baby of woot, etsy, threadless and adafruit.
A new image board written on with node, maybe with web sockets.
Maybe an imgur image favoriting site, there's lots of lulz uploaded there.

anyway, no shortage of ideas, just need to feel like I'm participating in the creation of our world.

I've joined the IRC chats on freenode #node.js, #express, #couchdb
and I hope to document my journey from zero to working simple application, and maybe produce some condensed screencasts of the experience.
I don't really know javascript that well(and therefore any of those other technologies), so it's going to be a challenge.
I need to figure out:
-How to get express + couchdb talking
-How to write in the Jade templating language

I should also mention I am a database noobie as well, I have barely even looked at SQL...
It feels like I am trying to eat an apple in one big bite, and I still have that nagging "why?" at the back of my mind. It's fun to do new interesting things.
I need to set goals I suppose, like "Read a Jade tutorial today" and "Watch all the XYZ screencasts" or whatever...

I suppose I just feel overwhelmed and need a way of breaking things down into bite-sized pieces. It takes a while to grok things, a very long while...

To roll my own... or not

That is the question I am asking myself...
After editing my abovesobelow site I realized I should get a content management system like wordpress, django or something, but then I realized that I do want to learn how to write back end code (even though I've written a teensy bit already)...
To roll my own content management/blog type software would be great, maybe even search npm (node.js package manager) to find all the little lego pieces I need in order to do it.
I do have some unique ideas (that have seemed to have leaked out): Amazon's @Author allows people to select passages from books and ask the author questions.
I sorta wanted to do that with a news site where certain parts of the article could be highlighted and be commented on in particular, maybe between
tags. And the "hot" paragraphs/sentences would change color (towards red).
But that's just a novel little idea :)

Oh well.  Maybe I'll sit down with a notebook and pen and try sketching some goals out and weave some sort of node.js + couchdb or python + couchdb magic to get there... either way couchdb has won my heart over (without me even doing anything useful with it yet, maybe it's been my couch situation or the philosophy of relax or REALLY how it takes advantage of the HTTP protocol and melts with javascript so... sexily :)

Anyway. Signing off.

Node.JS implementation of BitTorrent DNA content delivery?

I want to know what people think of this idea. I am working on the feasibility myself, but seeing node.JS applications that do distributed computing, I figure there may be a way to do distributed content delivery using BitTorrent and node/websockets(maybe?) technology.

After having the idea in the bathroom looking into the mirror, I googled _bit torrent for streaming_ and came across:
BitTorrent DNA
and further to our interests:
DNA video streaming
Here's a clip from the DNA Client section of the site:

Description

BitTorrent DNA is a single 280KB executable file that must be present on the end user’s machine to take advantage of peer network acceleration. It operates in conjunction with a browser plugin which works with Microsoft Internet Explorer and Mozilla Firefox.
Platform Support

BitTorrent DNA is designed to run on versions of the Windows platform beginning with Windows 98. Browsers supported include Microsoft Internet Explorer 6 and later and Mozilla Firefox 2 and later. For streaming, Adobe Flash 9 and later is supported.

BitTorrent DNA is not yet available on platforms other than Windows. If an application runs on multiple platforms, it must verify that Windows is the current platform before accessing BitTorrent DNA. If the user is not on a supported platform, the application should use standard HTTP for download and bypass using DNA.

This sucks for 2 reasons, limits users to windows machines and it requires a download and an extension to be installed in the browser.


I have a feeling that it may be possible to do something similar with Node.JS
(Here's a BitTorrent client written in javascript.)
and perhaps Socket.IO, but it's just a feeling as I have barely scratched the surface of these technologies.

Therefore the title of this article ends with a pronounced question mark. Just an idea, think about it smart and good programmers out there.... do it (and please let me know what you think or do!)

(It's because I like to watch cartoons...)