streaming consciousness

Prayer might be more than just wishful thinking.

hardie karges — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 02:12:13 +0000

The similarity between DNA and language may be more than just coincidental. Species may actually get what they need, by hook or crook, words or visions, rather than just live or die by quirks of fate or a roll of the dice. This is what we all want, what we all really believe, deep down in our hearts, whether creationists or scientists, that there is something special about us as humans and that we have some role in creating and maintaining that specialness. Though maybe hesitant to cop to it, scientists would not be searching the heavens for other Earth-like planets, much less radio frequency signals, unless they thought this particular manifestation of biology were something divinely ordained and not just coincidence. Nevertheless, our culture defines us whether our DNA does or not, and is certainly more flexible and adaptable. This probably overrides all other considerations. Somehow I just don’t think they’ll ever find a ‘rocket science’ gene. We made all that up.

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SCIENCE FRICTION

hardie karges — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 21:52:17 +0000

Voices echo in my head without precedent, without antecedent, residual background radiation left over from the Big Bang, thoughts and ideas bouncing like ping pong balls in a mind too full for thinking, a brain too drunk for drinking. Quit re-normalizing equations. Maybe mass IS infinite at the speed of light. Meaningless infinities my ass; maybe more physicists should get more metafizzical. I’m pregnant with ideas, ready to give birth. Those who can’t create, consult; those who can’t shine, reflect. Radio waves are the enemy, jamming somebody else’s thoughts into my brain. TV will live your life for you if you let it. Now Internet wants to do the same or worse, creating a life of its own within the limits of conspiracy. Still I persevere. Prepare for the best; avoid the worst. Fear of success is the greatest handicap of the sensitive male. How do you score points when your best offense is a good defense? Beyond the call of the sexual wild, the call to merge with the void, beyond the sleepy call of nature two or three times a day depending on circumstances, my world is finally at peace with itself.

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I recognize many of the cheap motels in Hollywood movies and music videos,

hardie karges — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 20:19:02 +0000

the cheaper the better, full of character and characters. Nobody wants to see the inside of a Westin or a Hilton, except maybe Paris. They want to see the crud in the cracks and the stains on the sheets, lives of the cheap and dirty. I know those rooms inside and out, the chewing gum under the table and the burnt spots where a cigarette butt hung on the edge of the night stand for dear life, despite the warnings not to smoke in bed. They have to tell you that, in the cheap places. In expensive hotels, it’s understood. Actually the only thing wrong with the cheap places is the people who inhabit them, all too often on a permanent basis, too self-satisfied in their grungy life-style. I never stay at the cheapest places just for that reason, though sometimes they’ve got real style. Sometimes just a few bucks more a night is enough to keep the riffraff away and provide a qualitative difference, too, though. It’s not that I don’t like poor people, but generally not the type living in cheap motels. They can be real low-breeds, regardless of how high-bred, like heroin addicts watching the pile of pubes just growing higher in the corner if left undisturbed by human hands.

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Bragging rights go to the victor,

hardie karges — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 00:19:59 +0000

language rights go to the majority, all things being equal. Nothing is equal. Language follows the path of least resistance, at least theoretically. Like animals evolving smaller as the world fills with species and the competition gets fierce, so words reserve their options until the last possible moment, eschewing bound forms and forced marriages. The occupiers usually take the language of the occupied, all the better to force their hands, unless they’re also part of a local migration, which will make them the majority of the populace, or unless the local language is just too damn hard. Such is the case with Thailand, where a Farang would never be expected to speak the local language, maybe not even allowed to. This is all voluntary, of course, the tyranny of the majority, dreadful freedom. Society is united by its lowest common denominators, the greatest good for the greatest number, and the rare birds are left to flounder in brittle cages, taking solace in mirrors and nourishment from crumbs on the floor. It’s cold in here and somebody keeps shitting in the nest. Shine some light in dark corners and let some fresh air into musty corners.

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We stand at the crossroads,

hardie karges — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 23:35:31 +0000

trying to flag a ride from some cowboy with shit on his boots who says he knows where he’s going, but I’m not so sure. The future is pure mathematical probability, clean and pristine, equations on a blank page. The past is a pool of blood, god-forsaken and friendless, nothing but a mother’s love, until someone came up with the brilliant idea of what the world might be like if everyone treated each other like brothers and sisters, choosing to acknowledge our commonalities more than our differences. The rest is history, extended families united by religion, safe and secure within the commonly acknowledged borders, part of something even larger beyond those borders. A devout Muslim is friend and brother to any fellow Muslim regardless of country, just as are devout Jews and Christians, particularly those of the same sects. Same-sect marriages work well where many others fail. Communism used to be the same, camaraderie across borders. This is where capitalism falls short. You just can’t get that excited about something ‘trickling-down’ to you, no matter how much better than everything else it might actually be. It’s just not inspiring. Equality, justice, peace, and abundance are inspiring.

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I hate desks and all they stand for,

hardie karges — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 01:12:33 +0000

holding up the gawk-box and the scanner, the spread-sheets and ledgers, the ash trays and paperweights, the right angles and the wrong height, the calendar and the deadlines, all the anxiety and my drawers full of shit. It all just keeps piling up, stuff that I’ll never use but can’t seem to get rid of. For me a desk is a place to stack my feet so that I won’t forget them. A desk is a place to have creative sex. A desk is a monument to the ingenuity of the Western imagination, cubism transferred to the study instead of the studio, on carpets instead of canvas. It’s all part of the human dimension- memory, causality, and isometric projections on to the blank stage and the blank page. We live in three dimensions of length width and depth because that’s what we are, square pegs in a round hole. I don’t even like sitting in a chair. I’d rather lie down or stand up. If I had my way, every office in the world would have a bed and a kitchen. This is the stuff of life. Writing is like sex; you try different positions. A desk is not for writing. They’re too square. A desk is for lines and rulers, scholars and schoolers. A bed is where the action is, the alpha and omega, a laboratory for experiment.

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I am two people, gagged and bound, beside myself,

hardie karges — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 14:52:05 +0000

just waiting to see what my other half will do. One more and I could be a trinity, the Triple Gem, pontificating endlessly on matters of no importance. As it is, I’m reduced to endless duals with my self, a triple Gemini with the head of a bull, debating all the great issues and fighting all the important wars of history right here in my inner chamber of secrets. The president in me is an asshole, stern and overbearing, a national socialist to the core. The congress is chicken shit, scared to death of the unknown. To be “of two minds” about something is a way of life for me. Sometimes the bill never gets out of congress due to the filibustering activities of one party or another. Somehow the two houses of congress agree to disagree and we manage to wobble forward on all fours plodding our way through life.

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Geminis like myself are fond of saying everything’s 50-50,

hardie karges — Tue, 28 Jun 2011 00:51:08 +0000

unsure whether it’s a curse or blessing seeing both sides of every situation. It can be either or both. I’ve modified the equation so that everything’s 51-49 to avoid a stalemate. Once my mate goes stale, then I’m out of here. Geminis can have problems making decisions. It can become a way of life, a complete metaphysical system. Everything’s uncertain, indefinite, undefined. Fortunately I’m Gemini on the Taurus cusp, so if I can ever make a decision, then I can usually run with it. On the positive side, Geminis are highly adaptable to a variety of situations. Just making a simple decision for a Gemini can be like getting a bill passed in Congress. Then you’ve got to get the money allocated. If you ever get lonely, at least you’ve always got someone to talk to.

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Waking up on the side of the road can change your world.

hardie karges — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 15:58:49 +0000

Wow! There’s flashing lights, police directing traffic, everything. I wonder what’s going on. One look at my wrist answers that question, giving new meaning to the term ‘limp wrist’. Now I remember. I look at my body. Everything seems intact, but I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. It all happened so fast that there wasn’t much I could do to prevent it, but every time I play it back in my mind, it’s in slow motion, up to the moment where I hit the pavement and black out. I saw them there on the side of the road, the thirteen-year-old kid riding a motorcycle with his three-year-old sister on back, just diddling around as though the major highway through the center of their town didn’t even exist. Then they cut right in front of me, why I don’t know; I guess to get to the other side. There wasn’t even time to beep the horn; I just went into a hard swerve to avoid them, thinking that any second they’ll see me and slam on brakes. They didn’t. I almost got past, but not quite. The wheels touched, plopping them to the pavement at ten miles per hour, and slinging my Honda 750 bike approximately sixty yards on a sixty-mile-per-hour Frisbee throw. I went forty yards myself in another direction, ending up in somebody’s front yard. Fortunately the gate was open.

Little by little the village people returned my wallet, my cell phone, everything except my father’s Rolex. This is definitely a Miller moment. I wish I had a cold one right now; I guess I could use a new pelvis, too, but a cell phone will have to do. This might be a good time to call Mom. Thank God for technology. In the operating room six hours later, they pop the Big Question: will that be Visa or Mastercard? The wrist needs re-operating, but I still can’t find the definition of ‘elective surgery’ in my dictionary. The bed-rest left me with a case of nerve damage in the foot that was in traction. Other than that, all’s well that end’s well. Still any way I re-play the tape, the verdict is always the same: I probably couldn’t have pulled out of that swerve even if our wheels hadn’t touched. Without even thinking about it, I died so those kids could live. This is the afterlife. You can never appreciate consciousness so much as when you lose it.

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Consciousness is its own blessing and its own curse.

hardie karges — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 19:10:33 +0000

It can give insights to higher knowledge and other worlds, or it can stew you in eternal Hell. I know I’d like to forget some things. Mostly I’d just like to get some sleep. The harder I try, the less I get. It’s one of those things that only come through NOT trying, but by allying oneself with some sort of natural flow. Not that I don’t like those moments of solitude, at least somewhat. Some of my best ideas come at 3am; the trick is getting it on paper so that I’ll remember it later. If sleeplessness would keep you slim and trim, that would make it a deal, but it doesn’t work that way, just the opposite. A little biofeedback on the bathroom scale in the morning can prove that. You’d think that being in your own home would give you the best sleep, but for me it seems to be the opposite. Seems I get my best sleep with a neon ‘Motel’ sign blinking outside, some of my best sex, too, for that matter. Forget the sleeping pills, though. I tried that when I was in traction and only had nightmares, historical nightmares, of armies attacking and refugees fleeing. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, tangled up in covers, and there’s my foot still hanging from the bedpost like a sacrificial limb.

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