Reminded of a bunch of important issues by this post, I made an excellent, witty, and summarised reply to it in a comment, and then accidentally hit "back" and lost it. I made a crappy comment instead, so don't read it.
Now the reason I started this blog, initially, was to post as a bunch of alter egos, to spice up the content more than just blathering on about my own boring existence. I don't think I quite succeeded, but it doesn't matter because sort of my point and message was that one stable identity is, to me, impossible. I mentioned this in the very first post, and I'll try to revisit the concept again, because I think it is important enough to this blog, and to my message.
I act a whole lot different when I am with different people. This isn't an act, it's my true self that actually changes. I don't know if I'm a lot more impulsive than other people, but I genuinely *feel* like a different person when I speak to, say, Iceye, than I do to Adam, Kristin, my father, or myself, for that matter. Hence the name of this blog - man of many masks. This isn't very peculiar - we all do it. What befuddles me is that I can't seem to find a stable core inside this chaotic mess. It's like I find layer upon layer of masks until I've digged through the whole heap and come out on the other side. A rough metaphor for how "I" feels to me is kind of like a cloud when you fly through it with an airplane - it's very tangibly there, it's all around you and it constitutes the entirety of the landscape. It's got discrete shapes and a creamy white colour and you get the feeling that you could touch it and it'd stick to your hands in great lumps. But actually, it's just very intangible water droplets that are impossible to touch, and the plane just flies straight through.
Now imagine the airplane is also made of cloud, and you've got a good idea about how I picture the self. It's not there, yet it's very obvious, tangible, visible, and it also somehow makes you fly.
This is why I don't do much introspection nowadays - I just keep lying to myself, or using concepts I've imported from other sources - reflecting my own cloud in those of other people. For instance, when contemplating religion, I think about what Jesus and Buddha and Immanuel Kant and my friends have said, but I don't think there's any stable core to it - I mostly gather what bits of religion that seem to make sense, and then puzzle them together and see how they interact with my own ideas - but it's not really me anymore than my current mood, it just happens to last a bit longer. When I'm happy, I'm happy. Who knows if I stop being happy tomorrow? So, how could I possibly know if I stop being religious tomorrow? If I stop liking philosophical waxing? Heck, how could I know I won't suddenly start identifying myself as a woman?
What's strangest of all, is that it's all these little puzzle pieces that come together and form me. Meaning that "I" is but a series of processes, sensible processes of course, but still, temporary processes. Not news for anyone who's read philosophy of course, but my point is not that the self changes, but that integrity is (kind of) an illusion. I can make my own choices, sure, but I can't make them independently of my surroundings. Is identity a function of the masks we wear? Of what others see us as? I don't mean to say we're slaves to our environment, I'm meaning to say that what we don't show, doesn't exist. What complicates the matter is that we must see the "I" as an observer as well, but not as the only observer, not as an independent observer. It's kind of like a series of processes that can be part of ourselves only, but also processes that are part other people, and these concepts blur together.
Ironically, of course, many of these thoughts are taken from Douglas Hofstaedter. I thought them, though. I mean, I think I thought them. Therefore, I think I am a thought?
tisdag 25 december 2007
söndag 23 december 2007
lördag 15 december 2007
Past and Presents
First, I liked being given presents. This is natural, being that I was once very small. Then, I liked giving presents, which makes sense, it's heartwarming and all. Then, I got bloody tired of presents.
Seriously. It's fun to give people stuff they'll appreciate, but it takes forever to find something, especially when your family insists that you buy things for every. Single. Family. Member.
And this is just the bare essentials. This means I'll have to buy at least something like 12-13 useless trinkets, just not to get ostracized by my family.
Hence - sorry people, but I won't probably be giving you any presents. My economy can't take it, and I will start getting bored at around 10 meaningless items.
Seriously. It's fun to give people stuff they'll appreciate, but it takes forever to find something, especially when your family insists that you buy things for every. Single. Family. Member.
And this is just the bare essentials. This means I'll have to buy at least something like 12-13 useless trinkets, just not to get ostracized by my family.
Hence - sorry people, but I won't probably be giving you any presents. My economy can't take it, and I will start getting bored at around 10 meaningless items.
måndag 10 december 2007
Winter is upon us.
"The winter light is pale and bright
And so the serpent basks,
The Beast is bowed beneath the plow,
The djinn rest in their flasks,
The craftsman's made to fit his trade,
The workers match their tasks,
On snowy floor, we waltz the score,
We masquers are our masks."
--White Wolf's Winter Masques.
For being from a game - as far as I can find, the White Wolf people wrote it themselves - this is a surprisingly evocative poem. Don't you think?
And so the serpent basks,
The Beast is bowed beneath the plow,
The djinn rest in their flasks,
The craftsman's made to fit his trade,
The workers match their tasks,
On snowy floor, we waltz the score,
We masquers are our masks."
--White Wolf's Winter Masques.
For being from a game - as far as I can find, the White Wolf people wrote it themselves - this is a surprisingly evocative poem. Don't you think?
söndag 9 december 2007
10 greatest Canadian songs
28-hour day STAB Rickrolling. Allrakäraste syster/Star Trek Voyager. Klingon, your body no longer excites her.
destruction and sadness
Saugus High School Scandinavia. Leonard Cohen, Rick Astley & River Tam. Hallelujah! (song) arkhangelsk. John Mason. John Mason. Basil John Mason. Gordon Lightfoot, Homestar Runner.
graph maker, stab you. time is an illusion, especially lunchtime. time is an illusion, lunch time doubly so. borneo monkey.
Hum Hallelujah, I hate myself and want to die never gonna give you up. Kola Peninsula, Kola Norwegians. Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen. Little Golden Books, Manga Marcie. Pennyroyal tea russenorsk. Leonard Cohen, paramount Chief of Fiji. Saugus High School.
Tetragrammaton, Yahweh.
borneo monkey.
destruction and sadness
Saugus High School Scandinavia. Leonard Cohen, Rick Astley & River Tam. Hallelujah! (song) arkhangelsk. John Mason. John Mason. Basil John Mason. Gordon Lightfoot, Homestar Runner.
graph maker, stab you. time is an illusion, especially lunchtime. time is an illusion, lunch time doubly so. borneo monkey.
Hum Hallelujah, I hate myself and want to die never gonna give you up. Kola Peninsula, Kola Norwegians. Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen. Little Golden Books, Manga Marcie. Pennyroyal tea russenorsk. Leonard Cohen, paramount Chief of Fiji. Saugus High School.
Tetragrammaton, Yahweh.
borneo monkey.
fredag 7 december 2007
Science!
I have proven that it's indeed possible to eat nothing but cookies for 24 hours!
I think I will has some noodls now.
I think I will has some noodls now.
In Defense of the Sanctified
There are many who would view the Christian faith as largely selfish. There are those who say, that a Christian acts not upon his own moral views, but upon a desire to "go to Heaven" after his death. In short, there are many who claim Christianity is deluded.
Not so. It is delusion to believe that immediate, earthly rewards are meaningful, just as it is delusion to believe one knows the nature of Heaven and God's grace. In short, rewards, whether heavenly or mundane, are meaningless, and it is delusion to believe otherwise. To be loved, to earn money, to create art, to gain fame and notoriety, or to enter Heaven - all these are but shadowy illusions we make for ourselves in order to motivate our nasty, brutish and short lives. This is not the object of religion, nor is it the object of life. Reward is not what the true Christian seeks.
The Lancea Sanctum tells us what all mortal religions do, but without the veil of ignorance, without the comfortable hope of solace, without the illusions. The Lancea Sanctum tells us God has a plan. That is all. That is all the Sanctified have to hope for, that is all in which the Sanctified invest their faith. There is no hope of redemption, no hope of reward, only the hope of purpose, of meaning in a meaningless existence. This is what all religions seek to teach, though they shroud it in promises of payment, forgiveness and love.
Christianity - Faith- Religion; all these are with us for the sake of having a purpose. If there is no God, what purpose is there to my good actions? If there is no God, why should I help my fellow man? In a world without God, we are all but mites of dust upon a mind-numbingly great, blank floor, to be swept away by the smallest gust of wind and lost forever. In a world without God, we have no meaning. Religion provides us with this. Religion provides us with a reason for why we help one another. Never mind what reward shall come for this help - the important thing is knowing we have made a difference. We have contributed to God's plan. We have done something which was not in vain.
Finding meaning is what drives us all. Religion shows you a way. Religion assures you that though you be damned, God has not forgotten you. Religion is trusting that my actions matter to a higher being - that there is a reason for me to rise every night, that there is a reason for the pain and pleasure we must suffer. This is what Christianity is - not the hunt for some meaningless pleasure in Heaven, but the hunt for some meaningful pain on Earth.
Not so. It is delusion to believe that immediate, earthly rewards are meaningful, just as it is delusion to believe one knows the nature of Heaven and God's grace. In short, rewards, whether heavenly or mundane, are meaningless, and it is delusion to believe otherwise. To be loved, to earn money, to create art, to gain fame and notoriety, or to enter Heaven - all these are but shadowy illusions we make for ourselves in order to motivate our nasty, brutish and short lives. This is not the object of religion, nor is it the object of life. Reward is not what the true Christian seeks.
The Lancea Sanctum tells us what all mortal religions do, but without the veil of ignorance, without the comfortable hope of solace, without the illusions. The Lancea Sanctum tells us God has a plan. That is all. That is all the Sanctified have to hope for, that is all in which the Sanctified invest their faith. There is no hope of redemption, no hope of reward, only the hope of purpose, of meaning in a meaningless existence. This is what all religions seek to teach, though they shroud it in promises of payment, forgiveness and love.
Christianity - Faith- Religion; all these are with us for the sake of having a purpose. If there is no God, what purpose is there to my good actions? If there is no God, why should I help my fellow man? In a world without God, we are all but mites of dust upon a mind-numbingly great, blank floor, to be swept away by the smallest gust of wind and lost forever. In a world without God, we have no meaning. Religion provides us with this. Religion provides us with a reason for why we help one another. Never mind what reward shall come for this help - the important thing is knowing we have made a difference. We have contributed to God's plan. We have done something which was not in vain.
Finding meaning is what drives us all. Religion shows you a way. Religion assures you that though you be damned, God has not forgotten you. Religion is trusting that my actions matter to a higher being - that there is a reason for me to rise every night, that there is a reason for the pain and pleasure we must suffer. This is what Christianity is - not the hunt for some meaningless pleasure in Heaven, but the hunt for some meaningful pain on Earth.
tisdag 4 december 2007
Numerologically Perfected Relationships
The lines in red mark relationships that must occur for Kristin's transcendental, pan-mathematic geometric model to become perfected. Go get started, people!
måndag 3 december 2007
I miss men.
I was going to write something productive and creative and interesting to comment on the recent (and muchly happyful) development of a Fiery Fandango but alas, I couldn't think of anything more creative beyond "congratulations you guys" and "*raises an eyebrow like Spock and contemplates what this means*". Therefore, I'll leave the topic unspoken - I'm sorry folks, I really would like to elaborate - and instead talk on something I miss.
Men.
Seriously. Since I moved to Uppsala, the amount of men I have spoken with much - I mean really spoken, beyond casual "hellos" and "goodbyes" and "let's do some drama-games people!" - amounts to a total of, I think, two. These two men would be Sydow and Anton - you both have my thanks, very sincerely, but sometimes it isn't enough. I have been back home to meet with the old boys one or two weekends, but it just doesn't feel the same as getting some good old hanging out - I mean the improvised, "hey let's go hang out" kind of hang out, not the "Hey, let's plan in a Mage session two weeks from now!"
This is not meant as any offense to my numerous female friends (and less numerous girlfriend), nor as an offense to the wonderful Mage game (Heavens forbid!), I just kind of miss being an immature slob and taking on a more laid-back attitude. This is not because I want to look good for you girls, but because you punch me if I don't take care of myself. Men punch me less often. I like this quality.
I'm not very much of a beer and pretzels kind of guy, nor a football and boobies kind of guy, so I don't know exactly how this hanging-out looks. I'm guessing some interesting philosophical discussions, some retarded in-jokes, and some good old geek-crunching. The latter is abstract and intangible, but I think it's best described with examples; something like having Kenneth (man, I miss you, Kenneth) coming over to read RPG books together and discussing interesting, brief little points and anecdotes once every 20 minutes or so. It's a relaxed, no-nonsense kind of hanging out which I think is really good for the soul.
I used to do all this on a daily basis. I just don't remember it very well, because it was all so insubstantial and ridiculously pointless. Makes me realize, though, why the British used to have all those "men only" pubs.
Women, please don't hate me - too much of a good thing can be too much, that's all. Sydow and Anton, you guys rock. All the other men I miss, well, I miss you. I miss you, and the good old intellectual stupidity that comes with you.
Rock on.
Men.
Seriously. Since I moved to Uppsala, the amount of men I have spoken with much - I mean really spoken, beyond casual "hellos" and "goodbyes" and "let's do some drama-games people!" - amounts to a total of, I think, two. These two men would be Sydow and Anton - you both have my thanks, very sincerely, but sometimes it isn't enough. I have been back home to meet with the old boys one or two weekends, but it just doesn't feel the same as getting some good old hanging out - I mean the improvised, "hey let's go hang out" kind of hang out, not the "Hey, let's plan in a Mage session two weeks from now!"
This is not meant as any offense to my numerous female friends (and less numerous girlfriend), nor as an offense to the wonderful Mage game (Heavens forbid!), I just kind of miss being an immature slob and taking on a more laid-back attitude. This is not because I want to look good for you girls, but because you punch me if I don't take care of myself. Men punch me less often. I like this quality.
I'm not very much of a beer and pretzels kind of guy, nor a football and boobies kind of guy, so I don't know exactly how this hanging-out looks. I'm guessing some interesting philosophical discussions, some retarded in-jokes, and some good old geek-crunching. The latter is abstract and intangible, but I think it's best described with examples; something like having Kenneth (man, I miss you, Kenneth) coming over to read RPG books together and discussing interesting, brief little points and anecdotes once every 20 minutes or so. It's a relaxed, no-nonsense kind of hanging out which I think is really good for the soul.
I used to do all this on a daily basis. I just don't remember it very well, because it was all so insubstantial and ridiculously pointless. Makes me realize, though, why the British used to have all those "men only" pubs.
Women, please don't hate me - too much of a good thing can be too much, that's all. Sydow and Anton, you guys rock. All the other men I miss, well, I miss you. I miss you, and the good old intellectual stupidity that comes with you.
Rock on.
lördag 1 december 2007
Further abbreviation of Kristin's story summary. Large parts of the content are utterly slaughtered here, but this should sum up the gist of the story anyway (I hope). For those who've read Kristin's version, or who frankly don't give a damn, just ignore this
------
------
Lennox: We're looking for Pierre
Riklurt: It takes some time to register for the two guys that you were at all addressing them, it seems. One of them, the cornrow guy, eventually turns back with a nonchalant "Huh?"
Lennox: We are here to talk to Pierre, do you know where we can find him?
Riklurt: Pierre? You here to talk to *Pierre*?
Riklurt: He looks back to his friend with a brief smile. "So who I say hi from then?"
* Hudson leans over and flashes his badge
Hudson: Tell him the FBI wants to see him, and that he'd be very wise to comply to our wishes
Riklurt: He chuckles a little bit to himself. "Oh, Pierre got some *fine* visitors over."
Riklurt: Well I guess we can't say no t' that, can we?
Riklurt: He steps out of his car, alongside his friend - a bald, bigger man, also with a big white shirt.
Riklurt: Might I ask what's the deal, hm?
Lennox: We just want to talk a bit
Riklurt: You notice three more people coming out of the station, all dressed similarly. The guy at the pump takes a few steps back and joins them.
Riklurt: Talk a bit? A'ight, sounds reasonable. Officers, meet Pierre.
Riklurt: He makes a brief gesture to his bigger friend, whose height is slightly intimidating and whose black goatee makes you think of a movie villain.
Riklurt: Please roll Wits+Composure, both of you
Hudson: Roll 5#d10 Hudson rolled --> 8, 7, 1, 10, 2
Lennox: roll 4#d10 Lennox rolled --> 10, 2, 6, 9
Hudson: roll d10 Hudson rolled --> 5
Lennox: roll 1d10 Lennox rolled --> 9
Riklurt: Right. You both notice that the four men gathered around Pierre and his buddy are wearing large white hoodies, except one of them - what's more alarming is that they've got varying funny-shaped items inside their front pockets.
Riklurt: Additionally, it's probable you'd notice most of them are keeping their hands in said pockets.
Hudson: Might we speak to you somewhere more private, Mr Pierre?
Pierre: Private? These are my brothers y'all seein', ain't nothin' I keep secret from them.
Pierre: You got a problem with that?
Lennox: As you wish
Pierre: So, what's the problem?
Lennox: We want to ask you a few questions about your business with James O'Malley
---
Pierre: I ain't done no business with O'Malley in a while, why?
Lennox: Ok. But you have been dealing with Trevian Williams, correct?
Riklurt: There's a sudden unsettling among the other people present, and you hear one of the guys at the back go "Aaaaw damn."
Pierre: Yeah. Yeah, I have. What you got to do with Third, hm?
---
Pierre: Right. What fo? What he done?
Lennox: Nothing, as far as we know. We just need to clear a few things up in connection to the murder of Mr. O'Malley
* Pierre smiles a little nervously.
Pierre: You think he done it?
Lennox: Right now we don't *think* anything
Pierre: Third's a mean little brother, I think he could have.
Lennox: Really? What makes you think that?
Pierre: Third a *mean* motherfucker, and O'Malley was screwin' him over more than even he deserved, lil bastard.
* Pierre laughs. "Stupid motherfucker though you get somethin' for free outta the Westies."
Pierre: Course, we're brothers, helped him as much as I could, didn' I? Third owes me more than one.
* Pierre raises his voice, a lot. "AIN'T I RIGHT, HUH?"
* Pierre casts a quick glance to the other gangsters. This time, they don't nod.
Lennox: Well, we would like to talk to mr. Williams...
Pierre: Hah! Ya would?
Pierre: Gonna be hard for ya, damn Vipers popped a cap in him.
[*]
Riklurt: You both notice that Pierre's words seem to cause a lot of unrest among his friends, his friend in the car none the least, who looks absolutely puzzled.
Lennox: Did they, now
Lennox: What a shame
Pierre: Yeah, yeah. Third was a good brotha, crazy as hell, but a good brotha.
Hudson: Now, from what I've been given to understand, you people seem to have an awful lot of eyes watching each other, and an awful dislike for each other to go with it, so I suppose you won't mind telling us who it was that killed Mr Williams?
Pierre: Who killed him? Sure, foo, we keep track of that.
Pierre: Bitches Andre and RJ. Go get 'em jailed like good cops.
---
Hudson: I suggest we find a more suitable location to discuss this, before someone here does something stupid
* Lennox gets into the car
* Hudson gets into the car and starts driving off
Riklurt: Just as you're about to leave, one of them raises his voice and asks you a question: "Yo, wait! Wait! How'd O'Malley die?"
* Lennox looks at Hudson
* Hudson walks over to the car
Hudson: Did you know him?
Riklurt: No, no man. I'm just curious, is all.
Hudson: I see. Do you believe Mr Williams killed him?
Riklurt: The gangster falls silent. The others around him look at him hesitantly, waiting for an answer.
Hudson: Do you believe Mr Williams killed Mr O'Malley?
Riklurt: The first gangster seems to gather his confidence again.
Riklurt: No. No, I don', I'm just curious.
Hudson: So who do you think killed him?
Riklurt: Aw, I don't know!
Hudson: Take a wild guess
Riklurt: One of the other kids speaks up. "Yo, you don' go pushin' a brother around like that! He don' know nothin' man!"
Hudson: That makes four of us, I'm terribly curious to find out who did this.
Riklurt: So who you think done it, huh?
* Lennox steps out of the car and walks up slowly
Hudson: However, if you have no more information to give me, I see no reason to tell you anything more than I already have
Riklurt: Hey, prick! Don'tchoo think yo' badge is gonna make a difference if yo' full of metal, man!
Riklurt: One of the kids, a young and, presumably stupid, kid at the back draws out a gun. It's a cheap automatic pistol - but still a weapon.
Riklurt: How'd the irish motherfucker die, huh? Can you tell me that?
[*]
Hudson: All right, all right
Hudson: Mr O'Malley was in his bathroom on the twentieth floor, the door to which was locked from the inside. In this room, which was guarded by two men, he was torn to shreds, partly devoured, splattered across the walls and ceiling, and the final bits and pieces ended up on the roof of another building, no less than ten yards away.
Riklurt: Awww man? You serious?
Riklurt: Shieet...
Hudson: Is your curiosity satisfied now? Your lust for blood fulfilled?
Riklurt: The gangsters look at each other with meaningful looks in their eyes. They seem to have come to a common understanding.
[Various things happen. Hudson and Lennox find out where to find Trevian “Third” Williams, the suspected killer, where he lives with his girlfriend Suzette]
* Hudson knocks on the door
Riklurt: After a short while, there's a voice from inside, muffled through the door. "Who is it?"
Hudson: Special Agent Jack Hudson, FBI.
Suzette: What's it about?
Hudson: Open the door.
Lennox: always so diplomatic
Hudson: Yep
* Hudson holds up his badge
[*]
Hudson: Yes, we believe Mr Williams to be very dangerous
Suzette: Why so?
* Suzette leans forward to grab a cigarette, and you catch a glimpse of a beautiful, elaborate silver necklace around her neck. Looks a bit too expensive for someone who lives in a district like this.
Hudson: We have been lead to believe he is responsible for several accounts of murder recently, among others the ones of Rodriguez Julio and Andre Fields
Suzette: Trevian been in trouble all right, but why a Federal agent investigate this, hm?
Hudson: Because of the unique way the murders were committed
Suzette: Unique?
* Hudson briefly shows her a picture of Mr O'Malley, post murder
Suzette: You believe that's him?
Suzette: Ridiculous! How would e do that?
Hudson: That is what I am most interested in figuring out
Suzette: Interested? I wonder, Agent 'Udson, 'ow much zis interest is worth to you, hm?
* Trevian opens the door.
Trevian: Honey! I'm home!
Riklurt: End of session.
Riklurt: There we are.
Hudson: O_O
Hudson: You can't do that! O_O
Lennox: !!!!!
Riklurt: Cliffhanger :P
Hudson: Curse you, villain!
onsdag 28 november 2007
Sleepless.
Sleepless, dreamless,
doubtless, fearless, darkness
creeps upon my face;
wipe it off and see the days'
early sunbeams strike the eyes
like a million tiny flies
buzz buzz buzz - I am awake
but the body screams "no more"
and the very soul seems sore
From this knowledge - I would weep!
When I know I'lll get no sleep
Not from pleading, nor from praying,
not by going, nor by staying,
not by roaring, nor by rhyming -
what's the deal?
Silence, stillness,
darkness, illness, sleepless
lie I by her side
and the soft, enchanting tide
of my senses' obfuscation
of my very mind's sedation
draws upon me like a mist
and then- yeah, you get the gist:
In this senseless, sleepless ache
I am doomed to stay awake -
And I cannot help but wonder
what's the deal?
doubtless, fearless, darkness
creeps upon my face;
wipe it off and see the days'
early sunbeams strike the eyes
like a million tiny flies
buzz buzz buzz - I am awake
but the body screams "no more"
and the very soul seems sore
From this knowledge - I would weep!
When I know I'lll get no sleep
Not from pleading, nor from praying,
not by going, nor by staying,
not by roaring, nor by rhyming -
what's the deal?
Silence, stillness,
darkness, illness, sleepless
lie I by her side
and the soft, enchanting tide
of my senses' obfuscation
of my very mind's sedation
draws upon me like a mist
and then- yeah, you get the gist:
In this senseless, sleepless ache
I am doomed to stay awake -
And I cannot help but wonder
what's the deal?
fredag 23 november 2007
This is madness!
It's in the middle of the night and I can't stop typing.
God and Free Will.
There, I said it. I've been thinking about that too, and I have more arguments. Just stop reading at this point if you're tired of me.
I think we all know this argument - if God knows everything, it is impossible for free will to exist, since He would have predicted our actions already. (For a writer who's not strictly religious, I capitalize God a lot, I just realized).
Anywho: If God knows everything, we cannot have free will, because our actions would be predicted. But really - why does this have to be? I'll take a mundane example.
I flip a coin. In doing so, I don't determine the outcome, yet I know the outcome will be either heads or tails (or, possibly, it will land on edge). I know these are the possible outcomes. I know perfectly well how the "heads" and "tails" on the coin look, and if we want to get nitpicky, let's say I've carefully studied every other factor in the room. The only thing I don't know is the force used to flip the coin (obviously, as this is hard to measure beforehand). I still know everything about the coin being flipped and about all the possible outcomes, I just cannot predict it.
Omniscence, by definition, is the ability to know everything, which includes every possible action (but, as in the previous post, not actions that could not logically occur). Presuming God knows all, does this really limit our free will? Yes, God can perfectly predict what outcomes will come of my choice to buy ice cream or not, but He does not cause either choice, he simply knows both alternatives. This possibility, of course, requires that God knows everything that could potentially happen, not just everything that happens. This, of course, amounts to an infinite amount of knowledge, but that's no problem since that is the very definition of omniscence.
Does this explanation make sense? It's kind of Schrödingers' Cat-ish in nature and I don't know how well physics-con-philosophy-con-pop-culture applies to theology, but I had to write this down, or I'd forget it.
God and Free Will.
There, I said it. I've been thinking about that too, and I have more arguments. Just stop reading at this point if you're tired of me.
I think we all know this argument - if God knows everything, it is impossible for free will to exist, since He would have predicted our actions already. (For a writer who's not strictly religious, I capitalize God a lot, I just realized).
Anywho: If God knows everything, we cannot have free will, because our actions would be predicted. But really - why does this have to be? I'll take a mundane example.
I flip a coin. In doing so, I don't determine the outcome, yet I know the outcome will be either heads or tails (or, possibly, it will land on edge). I know these are the possible outcomes. I know perfectly well how the "heads" and "tails" on the coin look, and if we want to get nitpicky, let's say I've carefully studied every other factor in the room. The only thing I don't know is the force used to flip the coin (obviously, as this is hard to measure beforehand). I still know everything about the coin being flipped and about all the possible outcomes, I just cannot predict it.
Omniscence, by definition, is the ability to know everything, which includes every possible action (but, as in the previous post, not actions that could not logically occur). Presuming God knows all, does this really limit our free will? Yes, God can perfectly predict what outcomes will come of my choice to buy ice cream or not, but He does not cause either choice, he simply knows both alternatives. This possibility, of course, requires that God knows everything that could potentially happen, not just everything that happens. This, of course, amounts to an infinite amount of knowledge, but that's no problem since that is the very definition of omniscence.
Does this explanation make sense? It's kind of Schrödingers' Cat-ish in nature and I don't know how well physics-con-philosophy-con-pop-culture applies to theology, but I had to write this down, or I'd forget it.
Some More Theology
Inspired by Sara, I would like to add a private philosophy of my own to the debate about God. This is an old and probably leaky theory, but I'd like to figure out exactly how it leaks, so responses are welcome.
Basically, I theorized a while back about the seeming inconclusiveness in God's attributes. Theologists summarise God as:
1. Omniscent, All-knowing
2. Omnipotent, All-powerful
3. Omnibeneficient, All-good
4. Omnipresent, i.e. Everywhere
and
5. Eternal and always existing.
This is basically how God is described, and most arguments against His existence are based on that these cannot fit together. If God is all-knowing and all-powerful he cannot also be all-good, since he would know disasters beforehand and prevent them. There's no goodness in introducing diseases to the world, and arguments about "testing Man" strike me as a tad ridiculous.
But, I figured - if we're to adhere to the principles of Logic, the definition of all-powerful becomes interesting. Basically - can an all-powerful being do something logically impossible? Those who argue against God's existence generally say God should be able to do this - i.e. create a rock so large he cannot lift it. But if we presume that logic restricts God, not because God is flawed but because logic is the natural boundary of all that exists - illogical events not only cannot occur, but in fact, are not part of the universe.
In this case, God cannot do something logically impossible. This does not restrict his omnipotence in any way, because illogical events simply do not exist. The argument is valid because an omnipotent being couldn't perform a non-existing action anymore than he could pet a non-existent dog.
If this is the case, might it not be so that God foresaw the world from the point where everything started (since he knows literally everything), saw a myriad logically possible universes, and then created the best one? Every improvement, say, a world where murder was impossible, would have logical consequences that would be harmful. Therefore, God saw all the myriad possible universes and created the best one. This certainly satisfies that omniscence, omnipotence and omnibenevolence fits together.
Does this satisfy the idea of a logically coherent God?
Basically, I theorized a while back about the seeming inconclusiveness in God's attributes. Theologists summarise God as:
1. Omniscent, All-knowing
2. Omnipotent, All-powerful
3. Omnibeneficient, All-good
4. Omnipresent, i.e. Everywhere
and
5. Eternal and always existing.
This is basically how God is described, and most arguments against His existence are based on that these cannot fit together. If God is all-knowing and all-powerful he cannot also be all-good, since he would know disasters beforehand and prevent them. There's no goodness in introducing diseases to the world, and arguments about "testing Man" strike me as a tad ridiculous.
But, I figured - if we're to adhere to the principles of Logic, the definition of all-powerful becomes interesting. Basically - can an all-powerful being do something logically impossible? Those who argue against God's existence generally say God should be able to do this - i.e. create a rock so large he cannot lift it. But if we presume that logic restricts God, not because God is flawed but because logic is the natural boundary of all that exists - illogical events not only cannot occur, but in fact, are not part of the universe.
In this case, God cannot do something logically impossible. This does not restrict his omnipotence in any way, because illogical events simply do not exist. The argument is valid because an omnipotent being couldn't perform a non-existing action anymore than he could pet a non-existent dog.
If this is the case, might it not be so that God foresaw the world from the point where everything started (since he knows literally everything), saw a myriad logically possible universes, and then created the best one? Every improvement, say, a world where murder was impossible, would have logical consequences that would be harmful. Therefore, God saw all the myriad possible universes and created the best one. This certainly satisfies that omniscence, omnipotence and omnibenevolence fits together.
Does this satisfy the idea of a logically coherent God?
tisdag 20 november 2007
Loneliness
Friendship is relative. Loneliness is absolute.
It's frightening how such a thing can sneak up on you. I woke up in the middle of the night, my sleep pattern no doubt torn to pieces by my unhealthy habits, and loneliness itself stood at my bedpost, staring me in the eyes. Do not misinterpret me - Loneliness is not about being on one's own. I can handle being all by myself - I even enjoy it a lot more than other people I've met.
This is not the same thing as loneliness. Loneliness is a cold, strange realisation that creeps upon one when it's not expected, the weird realization that, despite ones' best efforts, we are always vulnerable to ourselves. Think about that last sentence. You are always vulnerable to yourself.
Therein, I think, lies the real reason to fear loneliness.
It's frightening how such a thing can sneak up on you. I woke up in the middle of the night, my sleep pattern no doubt torn to pieces by my unhealthy habits, and loneliness itself stood at my bedpost, staring me in the eyes. Do not misinterpret me - Loneliness is not about being on one's own. I can handle being all by myself - I even enjoy it a lot more than other people I've met.
This is not the same thing as loneliness. Loneliness is a cold, strange realisation that creeps upon one when it's not expected, the weird realization that, despite ones' best efforts, we are always vulnerable to ourselves. Think about that last sentence. You are always vulnerable to yourself.
Therein, I think, lies the real reason to fear loneliness.
fredag 16 november 2007
Self-Improvement
I post very briefly after actor! I sorry!
I be self-improvement in life. I study charisma, by the mirror, and have pretty wife who don't like me. Sometime, life as Simian Sim sucks. Still, I be making advancement, in carreer and in life. And I be thinking - is self-improvement goal of life? Is big question for someone primarily primate. Self-improvement is what happen in many games. Role-playing games be all about making better. Or making improvement. Sometime, though, making improvement is not about make better, I thinks.
For instance: If I develop as person, but not develop skills, is that improvement? Or make better? I be thinking about it lot. Get big carreer, sure, self-improvement. But does it make better? Does I really is a better person if I mayor or rocket scientist? Or does I really better person if I smile more? You see point? It are two perspectives on life: Perfectionist want improvement, want grow strong and practice skills. Hedonist want to live life and enjoy it. Which one make better? Maybe both make better?
I don't know. I just a Sim that looks like monkey.
I be self-improvement in life. I study charisma, by the mirror, and have pretty wife who don't like me. Sometime, life as Simian Sim sucks. Still, I be making advancement, in carreer and in life. And I be thinking - is self-improvement goal of life? Is big question for someone primarily primate. Self-improvement is what happen in many games. Role-playing games be all about making better. Or making improvement. Sometime, though, making improvement is not about make better, I thinks.
For instance: If I develop as person, but not develop skills, is that improvement? Or make better? I be thinking about it lot. Get big carreer, sure, self-improvement. But does it make better? Does I really is a better person if I mayor or rocket scientist? Or does I really better person if I smile more? You see point? It are two perspectives on life: Perfectionist want improvement, want grow strong and practice skills. Hedonist want to live life and enjoy it. Which one make better? Maybe both make better?
I don't know. I just a Sim that looks like monkey.
Playwrights and Murder
We had the very first theatre meeting yesterday. What did I think?
Not sure. I think it was the first time when I got the role to coordinate people in a more-or-less serious setting, and actually made it work. The point of it was, of course, amusement, being the first meeting - so we worked from our plans, but soon found out that they were insufficient.
So I started improvising, pulling out old theatre practice games from my time in Slovenia. I think it went well, but something inside me tells me that you're not supposed to improvise in organised and serious settings. Still, the older I get, the more I believe that truly successful people really just make shit up as they go along.
We also went through some potential plays. Master and Margarita was mentioned, which I certainly wouldn't object to - adding to that, Mormor Gråter, The Mushroom Murders Mystery, a Shakespeare potpurri, and - About Love. I think, unfortunately, that the latter would be hard. On the other hand, so would Master and Margarita.
Aside from that, we tried gaming over IRC for the first time yesterday. That requires no acting skills whatsoever, which is nice because it means you can be much more relaxed while doing it. It's also less fun, but I've found that recently sloth defeats fun for my part a whole lot more often than I like. I should try to change that somehow. Ideas?
Also, I made sims, in Sims II, that look like monkeys. This is probably my greatest achievement since school started.
Not sure. I think it was the first time when I got the role to coordinate people in a more-or-less serious setting, and actually made it work. The point of it was, of course, amusement, being the first meeting - so we worked from our plans, but soon found out that they were insufficient.
So I started improvising, pulling out old theatre practice games from my time in Slovenia. I think it went well, but something inside me tells me that you're not supposed to improvise in organised and serious settings. Still, the older I get, the more I believe that truly successful people really just make shit up as they go along.
We also went through some potential plays. Master and Margarita was mentioned, which I certainly wouldn't object to - adding to that, Mormor Gråter, The Mushroom Murders Mystery, a Shakespeare potpurri, and - About Love. I think, unfortunately, that the latter would be hard. On the other hand, so would Master and Margarita.
Aside from that, we tried gaming over IRC for the first time yesterday. That requires no acting skills whatsoever, which is nice because it means you can be much more relaxed while doing it. It's also less fun, but I've found that recently sloth defeats fun for my part a whole lot more often than I like. I should try to change that somehow. Ideas?
Also, I made sims, in Sims II, that look like monkeys. This is probably my greatest achievement since school started.
tisdag 13 november 2007
Freaks, Perverts, and Ordinary Folks
So I was reading the previous publishing, and that got me thinking. Society of today, you know, has a lot of scapegoats when it comes to sex. Pedophiles, rapists, all of those people have come to represent that which we hate the most, because people do hate pedophiles and rapists, very intensively. But why are we all so antagonistic towards them, specifically? I mean sure, there's talk about how sexual abuse ruins peoples' lives and all that jazz, but - newsflash, people - murderers end peoples' lives. Shouldn't we be more scared of those?
So now I'm thinking: Maybe what we fear in the abusers is more about ourselves. I mean, it stands to reason that none of us have seriously considered, you know, killing someone. But I bet pretty much everyone's had some sort of weird, sexual, deviant fantasy - and there's why it's so scary when others act on them. We know that, if circumstances were difference, that could be you on the tabloids. Then again, sex is a pretty open thing today, nothin' you have to sneak with usually. It's been stated numerous times that your sexual orientation ain't nothing you can change, at least not for most people - and so it's okay to be queer or date two people at the same time. But what if you are one of those people, the bad people, the people who get horny from watching little boys undress? What's there to do about it?
One outta two things, it seems. Either you push it down, ignore it, and spend your life hating perverts for acting on what you're pushing down, or you become the pervert.
Man. I'm glad I ain't no pedophile. That would really make existence suck.
So now I'm thinking: Maybe what we fear in the abusers is more about ourselves. I mean, it stands to reason that none of us have seriously considered, you know, killing someone. But I bet pretty much everyone's had some sort of weird, sexual, deviant fantasy - and there's why it's so scary when others act on them. We know that, if circumstances were difference, that could be you on the tabloids. Then again, sex is a pretty open thing today, nothin' you have to sneak with usually. It's been stated numerous times that your sexual orientation ain't nothing you can change, at least not for most people - and so it's okay to be queer or date two people at the same time. But what if you are one of those people, the bad people, the people who get horny from watching little boys undress? What's there to do about it?
One outta two things, it seems. Either you push it down, ignore it, and spend your life hating perverts for acting on what you're pushing down, or you become the pervert.
Man. I'm glad I ain't no pedophile. That would really make existence suck.
måndag 12 november 2007
Modern Witche Trials
Lawks!
Witch trials never go out of style, mark my words. What am I thinking of now? Just another little controversy, that might be brough up for discussion, namely how To Catch a Predator. This is an American show, in which television helps the Law to catch sexual predators. Now, that's all fine and dandy since they're sexual predators, which are dangerous people -
hold your horses, TV people can become the law, now?
There's an old Very Wise saying about such a system: In America, you watch television. In Soviet Russia, television watch you!
So now television watch us. Or at least, people who are suspected sexual predators. They don't have any actual authority, but who cares? If you get arrested, your identity is protected (more or less) and you're placed in a prison cell for a few years. It's probably going to ruin your life, to a great extent. If you get revealed as a sexual predator on live television, though - wow. If that's not a great motive for suicide, I don't know what is. In light of how difficult it is for some of us to sympathise with Mr. Flinga, these people must be ostracized for life.
So what? They're bad people, right?
Disregarding the risk of innocents being caught - which is probably possible, if not likely - you're still overstepping the boundaries of what you legally can and cannot do. Exposing a person's crimes publically and then so utterly ruining their lives might be seen as "just", in light of what crimes they've not yet committed (mind you, all they have actually done is shown the intent of having sex with a minor), but it's still something that the Law should handle, not the media.
You have a right to a fair trial, sure. You do not have the right to escape forever becoming branded as a sexual predator, which - second to terrorists, of course - are the worst people on earth and deserve to be killed in nasty ways.
Witch trials, indeed. Lawks.
Witch trials never go out of style, mark my words. What am I thinking of now? Just another little controversy, that might be brough up for discussion, namely how To Catch a Predator. This is an American show, in which television helps the Law to catch sexual predators. Now, that's all fine and dandy since they're sexual predators, which are dangerous people -
hold your horses, TV people can become the law, now?
There's an old Very Wise saying about such a system: In America, you watch television. In Soviet Russia, television watch you!
So now television watch us. Or at least, people who are suspected sexual predators. They don't have any actual authority, but who cares? If you get arrested, your identity is protected (more or less) and you're placed in a prison cell for a few years. It's probably going to ruin your life, to a great extent. If you get revealed as a sexual predator on live television, though - wow. If that's not a great motive for suicide, I don't know what is. In light of how difficult it is for some of us to sympathise with Mr. Flinga, these people must be ostracized for life.
So what? They're bad people, right?
Disregarding the risk of innocents being caught - which is probably possible, if not likely - you're still overstepping the boundaries of what you legally can and cannot do. Exposing a person's crimes publically and then so utterly ruining their lives might be seen as "just", in light of what crimes they've not yet committed (mind you, all they have actually done is shown the intent of having sex with a minor), but it's still something that the Law should handle, not the media.
You have a right to a fair trial, sure. You do not have the right to escape forever becoming branded as a sexual predator, which - second to terrorists, of course - are the worst people on earth and deserve to be killed in nasty ways.
Witch trials, indeed. Lawks.
tisdag 6 november 2007
Beautiful Madness
I'm terribly sorry about the double-post, you guys, but if I could rant a little about how difficult it is to design cults and do horror, I think I should rave a little about how intoxicatingly addicting I find Changeling: The Lost to be.
Changelings are threatened by insanity, especially in the form of a fractured and slowly decaying personality. That this appeals to a favourite theme of mine (the destruction or altering of someones' identity) is only the first part of the equation.
Changeling manages to take the social/political approach to plotlines possessed by Vampire, and mingle it with the mysteries and close brushes with the supernatural of Mage. Add to this the element of fairy-tale magic, and there's a perfect recipe for a game system (and setting) that can be tweaked and altered according to the wishes of those who tell the story. There's no real problem to make a society of changelings bent on controlling mortals - they have good reason to, and can be just as abusive as vampires, meaning the social aspects can be highlighted. You can also twist the tale the other way, making the changelings relatively benevolent and unified against the mysteries of the World of Darkness.
So why do I post about this? Because it's a problem. It's too big for me to use. It's a giant-sized palette, and whichever way I do it, I feel as though I should use slightly more or slightly less of some hues. Too much of something good...
I think my inspiration is on fire.
Changelings are threatened by insanity, especially in the form of a fractured and slowly decaying personality. That this appeals to a favourite theme of mine (the destruction or altering of someones' identity) is only the first part of the equation.
Changeling manages to take the social/political approach to plotlines possessed by Vampire, and mingle it with the mysteries and close brushes with the supernatural of Mage. Add to this the element of fairy-tale magic, and there's a perfect recipe for a game system (and setting) that can be tweaked and altered according to the wishes of those who tell the story. There's no real problem to make a society of changelings bent on controlling mortals - they have good reason to, and can be just as abusive as vampires, meaning the social aspects can be highlighted. You can also twist the tale the other way, making the changelings relatively benevolent and unified against the mysteries of the World of Darkness.
So why do I post about this? Because it's a problem. It's too big for me to use. It's a giant-sized palette, and whichever way I do it, I feel as though I should use slightly more or slightly less of some hues. Too much of something good...
I think my inspiration is on fire.
måndag 5 november 2007
World of Darkness
So I've been working on how to portray cults in a good light as of late, and I gotta say, I need to study up on my Call of Cthulhu. Cults are fascinating, but I can't get them just right - either they wind up too much hoods-and-robes á la Indiana Jones, or they become too harmless to really seem like a threat.
The difficulty, I think, lies in trying to portray the Evil that Men Do, for after all, not every threat has to be supernatural. So I drop them into a creepy little place and have a sacrifice or two - and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "CTHULHU". Honestly. I have too much a pull towards portraying the supernatural, but I could use a healthy dose of just good old humans doing some good old evil. If anyone has suggestions for how tell a story about a cult (aside from Eyes Wide Shut), feel free to add in a comment.
Otherwise I'm working on stories for Mage, but I keep getting tangled. Somehow I'm not entirely pleased with myself. Mysteries are like ketchup - first it's simple, then it's simple, then suddenly you've lost track of the storyline yourself. And then in the process of cleaning it up, things go back to being simple again. Something tells me I should just improvise.
Spoiler alert: There will be cults in the Mage game too. Yeah. It was the best idea I could come up with, after having worked on cults all day.
The difficulty, I think, lies in trying to portray the Evil that Men Do, for after all, not every threat has to be supernatural. So I drop them into a creepy little place and have a sacrifice or two - and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "CTHULHU". Honestly. I have too much a pull towards portraying the supernatural, but I could use a healthy dose of just good old humans doing some good old evil. If anyone has suggestions for how tell a story about a cult (aside from Eyes Wide Shut), feel free to add in a comment.
Otherwise I'm working on stories for Mage, but I keep getting tangled. Somehow I'm not entirely pleased with myself. Mysteries are like ketchup - first it's simple, then it's simple, then suddenly you've lost track of the storyline yourself. And then in the process of cleaning it up, things go back to being simple again. Something tells me I should just improvise.
Spoiler alert: There will be cults in the Mage game too. Yeah. It was the best idea I could come up with, after having worked on cults all day.
onsdag 24 oktober 2007
Bread
What if bread is the meaning of life?
No, seriously. Bread.
I mean, imagine the universe really was created by an omnipotent artist, an aesthetic God, who said to himself "This universe will beget a race, a race will which invent and enjoy bread for all eternity."
I mean sure, it seems pretty far-fetched, but heck, why not? Everyone admits God, if he exists, must be pretty damn mysterious. And sure, bread seems like a pretty mundane meaning compared to love and faith and hope and sex and so forth, but being simple doesn't stop something from being important. Think about it: Bread.
To some person, maybe, bread is life. Maybe he spends all his days testing new recipes, tasting and enjoying various kinds of bread, and baking wonderful loaves and cakes and dishes and... bread-y things. To this person, bread could really be the meaning of life, as plain as day. Bread. Seriously. If something as simple as bread could be the meaing of life, why couldn't, say, socks? Clowns, boomerangs, bus engines, that cute guy on the subway, your neighbours, or even you yourself. The possibilities are endless.
The meaning of it all could be hiding in plain sight, all around you. Think about it.
Bread.
No, seriously. Bread.
I mean, imagine the universe really was created by an omnipotent artist, an aesthetic God, who said to himself "This universe will beget a race, a race will which invent and enjoy bread for all eternity."
I mean sure, it seems pretty far-fetched, but heck, why not? Everyone admits God, if he exists, must be pretty damn mysterious. And sure, bread seems like a pretty mundane meaning compared to love and faith and hope and sex and so forth, but being simple doesn't stop something from being important. Think about it: Bread.
To some person, maybe, bread is life. Maybe he spends all his days testing new recipes, tasting and enjoying various kinds of bread, and baking wonderful loaves and cakes and dishes and... bread-y things. To this person, bread could really be the meaning of life, as plain as day. Bread. Seriously. If something as simple as bread could be the meaing of life, why couldn't, say, socks? Clowns, boomerangs, bus engines, that cute guy on the subway, your neighbours, or even you yourself. The possibilities are endless.
The meaning of it all could be hiding in plain sight, all around you. Think about it.
Bread.
tisdag 2 oktober 2007
Life is its own reward.
There are many who forget it. Life is its own reward.
Don't look for purpose. You're wasting your time. Life isn't in spirit. I don't believe in spirit.
Life is in flesh. Life is meat. Life is concrete and strong and tastes good. Life is the ultimate reward. Of all your fathers' seeds you were the strongest, the fastest, the most worthy of life. Among all who have died, you survived. Life is real.
Nothing is worth more than life itself. Never forget this. Never.
Don't look for purpose. You're wasting your time. Life isn't in spirit. I don't believe in spirit.
Life is in flesh. Life is meat. Life is concrete and strong and tastes good. Life is the ultimate reward. Of all your fathers' seeds you were the strongest, the fastest, the most worthy of life. Among all who have died, you survived. Life is real.
Nothing is worth more than life itself. Never forget this. Never.
It's been a long, long time...
It never seems to end. I don't know if I want it to end, or how it would end, or if there is such a thing as a happy ending.
I'm tired. I'm so tired, and so consumed by all these feelings that aren't really feelings, they tell me, but they seem so real I can't help but believe it. It's like my very blood was about to be torn through my skin. She's so indecisive. I can't really help her; I only want to get away, only want to stay with her, but she's consumed by ambition.
I love her.
I love him, too. My father, my flesh and my blood and my family. And yet... I keep confusing responsibility and love, and I want to flee from both, because love is a cruel master, much worse than responsibility. All I want is to forget.
And she keeps reminding me.
I'm tired. I'm so tired, and so consumed by all these feelings that aren't really feelings, they tell me, but they seem so real I can't help but believe it. It's like my very blood was about to be torn through my skin. She's so indecisive. I can't really help her; I only want to get away, only want to stay with her, but she's consumed by ambition.
I love her.
I love him, too. My father, my flesh and my blood and my family. And yet... I keep confusing responsibility and love, and I want to flee from both, because love is a cruel master, much worse than responsibility. All I want is to forget.
And she keeps reminding me.
onsdag 19 september 2007
On Identity
Language, according to many, is a requirement for thought. True introspection would not be possible without learning to interact; "thinking" is merely interaction with the self. Wittgenstein suggested this role of language - he has been supported by many philosophers and even some empirical studies.
If this view of the mind is right, that language precedes thought, does not also the mask precede its wearer? Does not also the face we show to others precede our own identity? If you believe me to be - well, whatever I claim to be - does that not mean this is my true identity?
How does one know who one is behind the mask? Even looking in a mirror, I can only see my face, not my mind. Talking to myself, I hear only words. Surface precedes content. In this view, then, identity itself is nothing but a construct, a social construct, a statue of words and dead thoughts.
"The simulacrum is not that which hides the truth. It is truth that hides the fact that there is none.
The simulacrum is true."
If this view of the mind is right, that language precedes thought, does not also the mask precede its wearer? Does not also the face we show to others precede our own identity? If you believe me to be - well, whatever I claim to be - does that not mean this is my true identity?
How does one know who one is behind the mask? Even looking in a mirror, I can only see my face, not my mind. Talking to myself, I hear only words. Surface precedes content. In this view, then, identity itself is nothing but a construct, a social construct, a statue of words and dead thoughts.
"The simulacrum is not that which hides the truth. It is truth that hides the fact that there is none.
The simulacrum is true."
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