As the title implies/states, I'm in Gold Coast right now. Thus, my blogging practices have been much less than adequate. However, I thought I'd semi-update with a kind of self-congratulatory taunt aimed at all you people. But...I have since decided against that.
Instead, I will write about pretty much nothing.
Enough of that.
Yeah so...GC is great...there's plenty more to say, but I hate going on about stuff and outlining my life, so I'll stop it here. But hopefully, I will update again soon, with something a bit more intelligent.
Love
Parv
Monday, 19 November 2007
Thursday, 20 September 2007
Moderation
I found this really good article about Israel online on one of my fav websites:
http://www.butterfliesandwheels.com/articleprint.php?num=272
Those who know me, will know that I'm fairly anti-Israel; however, this is fairly standard practise for anyone who's even slightly left-leaning at an NZ university. Importantly, then, I have NEVER been exposed to any information which could potentially change my viewpoints, and indeed, nor did I wish to. But this brilliant (albeit polemical) article has shed some light on my ignorance, and from now on, I will view the events in Gaza et al with a more informed view.
Hope it helps others too.
P.S: Excuse the poor sentence structure.
Friday, 14 September 2007
Hindus are retarded
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6994415.stm
Quote: "Hindu activists say the bridge was built by Lord Ram's monkey army to travel to Sri Lanka and has religious significance"
Enough said.
Quote: "Hindu activists say the bridge was built by Lord Ram's monkey army to travel to Sri Lanka and has religious significance"
Enough said.
Saturday, 1 September 2007
Obliged
The above cartoon (click on it for enlargement) as been banned from being published in Washington Post, because it may - !shock horror! - offend muslims! I'm sick and tired of having to control freedom of speech for a group of oversensitive and gullible people. Just cause a billion of you believe in this stuff, doesn't make it true...and god willing (pun intended) we should continue making fun of this (as indeed all) religions.
Thursday, 30 August 2007
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
Travelling. On. The. Bus.
He looked out the window - Listlessly. Wistfully. Endlessly - Into the darkness. Why? you ask; Why? I ask. Your humble narrator pleads: Need there be an answer to everything? Yes, you reply, their need be. In that case dear reader, I shall give you your answer, though the answer shall never truly be yours.
He looked out the window, wistfully, listlessly, endlessly, to avoid the oppressive glare of the neon. It shone and shone, and shone on more: into wrinkled, desert eyes, watering and agitated, into wrinkled creased eyes, watering with spice and lemon juice. The light was unforgiving and why should it not be? (Alas, there is a question which demands no answers.) And he squinted eternally.
So, dear reader, he looked out the bus window, into the darkness. But the light was bright (ha!) and the glass was reflective, so all he saw were reflections, reflections of the very things which he wanted to escape. He saw his apparition of a face, half reflected chiaroscuro into the abyss and realities; he saw a girl in the back seat, toying with her hair, for hair was all he could see. But most of all dear reader, he sensed with all his senses stuffed, the light, the light which burnt through his face, through his window, through his lonely road, through his fast-asleep-atlast-asleep blades of grass, and through his vacant skies.
Then suddenly, the light was no more, and the pain was no more. He did not have to face the horrors of his contrast lit eyes in the glass, and he did not have to bear the pain of the slightly burning grass. No dear reader, he did not; he did not have to confront the misery of the slumber somber night dismayed and disorientated at ephemeral bus-lit intrusions. The light was gone; it had, as it were, kicked the bucket.
Suddenly he saw the stars and he wondered. He wondered how a pathetic neon artificial bullshit horseshit crapshit neon light could obscure the most beautiful, majestic sight that a human conscious could hope to feast upon. He looked up at the cosmos, and absolved himself off himself in its womb like shawl. He looked at the heavens, and at the height of egocentricity, realized that the whole of the universe was made so that he could enjoy that very moment.
An eye there, and a hair there, a crisscross of vision and the chirp of a chippy packet. His focus shifted from the skies to the glass window and what is it that he saw? What does one hope to see in a glass window? Why, he saw himself of course. Now his face was superimposed upon the cosmos, and he realised the true nature of his oceanic enjoyment was nothing but narcissistic identification.
Do not be dismayed dear reader, for why does one read?
He looked out the window, wistfully, listlessly, endlessly, to avoid the oppressive glare of the neon. It shone and shone, and shone on more: into wrinkled, desert eyes, watering and agitated, into wrinkled creased eyes, watering with spice and lemon juice. The light was unforgiving and why should it not be? (Alas, there is a question which demands no answers.) And he squinted eternally.
So, dear reader, he looked out the bus window, into the darkness. But the light was bright (ha!) and the glass was reflective, so all he saw were reflections, reflections of the very things which he wanted to escape. He saw his apparition of a face, half reflected chiaroscuro into the abyss and realities; he saw a girl in the back seat, toying with her hair, for hair was all he could see. But most of all dear reader, he sensed with all his senses stuffed, the light, the light which burnt through his face, through his window, through his lonely road, through his fast-asleep-atlast-asleep blades of grass, and through his vacant skies.
Then suddenly, the light was no more, and the pain was no more. He did not have to face the horrors of his contrast lit eyes in the glass, and he did not have to bear the pain of the slightly burning grass. No dear reader, he did not; he did not have to confront the misery of the slumber somber night dismayed and disorientated at ephemeral bus-lit intrusions. The light was gone; it had, as it were, kicked the bucket.
Suddenly he saw the stars and he wondered. He wondered how a pathetic neon artificial bullshit horseshit crapshit neon light could obscure the most beautiful, majestic sight that a human conscious could hope to feast upon. He looked up at the cosmos, and absolved himself off himself in its womb like shawl. He looked at the heavens, and at the height of egocentricity, realized that the whole of the universe was made so that he could enjoy that very moment.
An eye there, and a hair there, a crisscross of vision and the chirp of a chippy packet. His focus shifted from the skies to the glass window and what is it that he saw? What does one hope to see in a glass window? Why, he saw himself of course. Now his face was superimposed upon the cosmos, and he realised the true nature of his oceanic enjoyment was nothing but narcissistic identification.
Do not be dismayed dear reader, for why does one read?
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
Jai Hind
Mera bharat pyara. Jai Hind!
Aazadi ke din, svatantrta divas mein, mena bhi socha ik aazadi ka kalam,
Chod ye romanchak baten, yeh sab dil ka he kam
Shayad kabhi mein apne desh ke liye kuch aisa karoonga ke mera khudka sir fakr se uchan ho jaye.
Jai Hind!
Aazadi ke din, svatantrta divas mein, mena bhi socha ik aazadi ka kalam,
Chod ye romanchak baten, yeh sab dil ka he kam
Shayad kabhi mein apne desh ke liye kuch aisa karoonga ke mera khudka sir fakr se uchan ho jaye.
Jai Hind!
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
S Asia Floods
It is not a day to be happy. It is a day to mourn.
The starving children in the photos look helplessly at the lens. Yet, one must feel responsible.
I look at the hunderds of old women in tears. They are in tears because no parent should have to suffer the loss of their child.
I look at the squalor that's present. The people that are dying because they are fighting for food supplies, air dropped.
I look at pictures. Taken by objective photographers. They capture the people in their misery, and we consume. We look at the pictures and are saddened. But, at the same time, safely distanced. We accept their misery and we accept our helplessness. We accept and continue consumption. They continue dying.
Little children with smiles on their faces continue drowning. Old women with wisdom etched on their hands continue mourning. Young men with fire in their hearts continue fighting. Young women with long hair across their faces continue crying. We, with warmth in our dwellings continue turning the pages of the news paper.
Die well children. Someone doesn't give a shit. And it's me.
The starving children in the photos look helplessly at the lens. Yet, one must feel responsible.
I look at the hunderds of old women in tears. They are in tears because no parent should have to suffer the loss of their child.
I look at the squalor that's present. The people that are dying because they are fighting for food supplies, air dropped.
I look at pictures. Taken by objective photographers. They capture the people in their misery, and we consume. We look at the pictures and are saddened. But, at the same time, safely distanced. We accept their misery and we accept our helplessness. We accept and continue consumption. They continue dying.
Little children with smiles on their faces continue drowning. Old women with wisdom etched on their hands continue mourning. Young men with fire in their hearts continue fighting. Young women with long hair across their faces continue crying. We, with warmth in our dwellings continue turning the pages of the news paper.
Die well children. Someone doesn't give a shit. And it's me.
Thursday, 2 August 2007
Unitarity
I know, it's been a while since I wrote an entry. But here it is now. It's going to be amazing. It'll blow your minds. In fact you will be so impressed by the precision and eloquence of my writing that forever onwards you will rue the day you registered such perfectness. For to experience such a hyper-realistic, transgressive, forceful text is to taste that essential nectar which even the gods crave.
But the gods don't have the internet, so they won't be able to read my blog. So, score: 1 to humanity.
Ummmm...yeah.
Anyway, I did in fact read something the other day which unsettled me. As an atheist, I was recently acquainted to the possibility of an afterlife even after physical demise. That is, whilst keeping within the godless universe!
The concept is unitarity and it originates from quantum mechanics. It states that any information created or previously existing in the universe cannot be destroyed. Much like energy, but much more complex, since new information (presumably) can be created.
Stephen Hawking used to believe the converse, that information can be destroyed under certain circumstances. If rather unfortunate pockets of data go on a somewhat unromantic date with a black hole , information loses out at singularity. However, as it so happens, Stephen Hawking's unnecessary demonisation of the cute and cuddly black hole was baseless; he himself admitted so. That is, even whilst that packet of information has a nice 'flat white' at Fidel's on Cuba with the black hole, the packet tends very much to remain intact.
In terms of an afterlife then, one cannot assume of course that our full consciousness will remain intact. That is, we cannot (and this is my deduction, and I could be completely wrong) presume that our consciousness will survive our death, but certainly that the packets of information we accumulated do not disintigrate with us. By packets of information I mean things like: your first ice-cream memory, or 100th; you're mum's apron's colour; or whatever. The point being that even useless, trivial bits of information which we consider so vital to a cumulative understanding of selves remain intact after we've shed this mortal coil.
Leaving the possibilty (however infintisamly small) that we can be brough back to life (in terms of a computer simulation perhaps) if a future sentient being wishes ever so benevolently to do so.
Though not as optimistic as the theistic position. It is perhaps some consolation (or not) that our death certainly does not mean the complete dissolution of our consciousness.
If someone knows more about this topic than I do, then please advise me, as I would love to know more.
Sweet as.
Parv
But the gods don't have the internet, so they won't be able to read my blog. So, score: 1 to humanity.
Ummmm...yeah.
Anyway, I did in fact read something the other day which unsettled me. As an atheist, I was recently acquainted to the possibility of an afterlife even after physical demise. That is, whilst keeping within the godless universe!
The concept is unitarity and it originates from quantum mechanics. It states that any information created or previously existing in the universe cannot be destroyed. Much like energy, but much more complex, since new information (presumably) can be created.
Stephen Hawking used to believe the converse, that information can be destroyed under certain circumstances. If rather unfortunate pockets of data go on a somewhat unromantic date with a black hole , information loses out at singularity. However, as it so happens, Stephen Hawking's unnecessary demonisation of the cute and cuddly black hole was baseless; he himself admitted so. That is, even whilst that packet of information has a nice 'flat white' at Fidel's on Cuba with the black hole, the packet tends very much to remain intact.
In terms of an afterlife then, one cannot assume of course that our full consciousness will remain intact. That is, we cannot (and this is my deduction, and I could be completely wrong) presume that our consciousness will survive our death, but certainly that the packets of information we accumulated do not disintigrate with us. By packets of information I mean things like: your first ice-cream memory, or 100th; you're mum's apron's colour; or whatever. The point being that even useless, trivial bits of information which we consider so vital to a cumulative understanding of selves remain intact after we've shed this mortal coil.
Leaving the possibilty (however infintisamly small) that we can be brough back to life (in terms of a computer simulation perhaps) if a future sentient being wishes ever so benevolently to do so.
Though not as optimistic as the theistic position. It is perhaps some consolation (or not) that our death certainly does not mean the complete dissolution of our consciousness.
If someone knows more about this topic than I do, then please advise me, as I would love to know more.
Sweet as.
Parv
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Bored of Masturbation
One gets bored of masturbation, of wanking. Something more is needed.
Sunday, 17 June 2007
From afar
Hey y'all,
Aren't I just so cool? Saying y'all an' all...I thought so. I still do.
Anyway, I'm a bit kookoo right now as I'm on holiday; but I got the net for a bit, and I thought I'd better write on my blog. So here I am.
Aussie is awesome; so many great photo opportunities, especially people on the train, they're so photogenic. And since I have a digital SLR now, I can only take the best result!
So, have been here for almost a week now....and I'm not having any deep thoughts or confused views. That's what a holiday ought to be about. Such a brain-dead time; I love it...with a capital V. Gold Coast is so sandy and happy.
Except...even though people consider shopping to be a generally emasculating activity, I'd just like to write a note here to say that I like it. So anyone who thinks that it's girly, I really don't care. I have recently just finished writing an essay on masculinity construction in our society, so I'm recently enlightened about the bullshit that society feeds men on how we ought to be...I don't want to be a part of that. So there, let's break stereotypes right now: I like to buy things, including clothes.
Peace out everyone.
Parv
Aren't I just so cool? Saying y'all an' all...I thought so. I still do.
Anyway, I'm a bit kookoo right now as I'm on holiday; but I got the net for a bit, and I thought I'd better write on my blog. So here I am.
Aussie is awesome; so many great photo opportunities, especially people on the train, they're so photogenic. And since I have a digital SLR now, I can only take the best result!
So, have been here for almost a week now....and I'm not having any deep thoughts or confused views. That's what a holiday ought to be about. Such a brain-dead time; I love it...with a capital V. Gold Coast is so sandy and happy.
Except...even though people consider shopping to be a generally emasculating activity, I'd just like to write a note here to say that I like it. So anyone who thinks that it's girly, I really don't care. I have recently just finished writing an essay on masculinity construction in our society, so I'm recently enlightened about the bullshit that society feeds men on how we ought to be...I don't want to be a part of that. So there, let's break stereotypes right now: I like to buy things, including clothes.
Peace out everyone.
Parv
Thursday, 7 June 2007
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Tarzan's Jane
The headline in the Dominion Post reads: "From Pole Vaulter to Sex Symbol" . I keenly read the article describing the 18 year old's unexpected rise to fame following an interview posted on 'youtube'. Besides the captioned picture of her breathtaking beauty resides a rather unnecessary explanation of her fame: "...largely a result of hundreds of men ogling her physique". It is important to note: she strongly denounces those who have given her such objectifying fame.
She bothers me.
I gaze primitively at her picture, but simultaneously shy away. My resistance at gazing intrigues and troubles me. Why do I look at her physique and not be filled with sexual desire but inexplicable chaos? It is not the depth of her femininity nor her superficial beauty that bids me shy way. Perhaps I shy away because 'ogling' the photo inevitably says something about me. Or perhaps, it is simply her deservedness that commands me so. Sheer envy at this accomplished athlete's intensity of focus and desire.
Though I do no deny the envy factor, I do dare suggest there is more to it; for if this were a male, I would not have batted an eyelid; complete ambivalence would be the order of the time. But her beautiful, gorgeous, inviting womanhood coupled with the unfathomable focus and effort that she has dedicated to her chosen field, is truly threatening to the masculine psyche. There's something about beautiful and successful women which is boldly demeaning.
I suddenly get the urge to deface her beauty in the paper. To quote 'Fight Club': "I wanted to destory something beautiful".
On second thoughts then, It is the depth of her femininity; the fact that she can deny her fame, she can deny her obscenity. The fact that she is desirable and desired by every man, yet makes it clear she is naive to such matters. For that reason, she challenges my 'masculinity' (that demolition worthy, awful, Patriarchal, social construct). For her femininity must be viewed as a strength, and not simply be defined as a feature lacking in masculinity. She is successful in spite and because of her womanhood. And there is nothing more frightening to a man in the world.
The male gaze is thus relegated to one of admiration and desire - not denigration - but one of ideals to live up to - not deprication. Further complicating the matter then: to live up to everything she is - one must be feminized. This is inherently problematic to the male psyche. First due to its unattainable nature and second due to my blatant refusal to do so: resulting in a broadly - yet powerfully - misogynistic outlook. For to admire a woman is to aspire to drown in her beautiful lascivious femininity, the depth of which is worryingly dark and unexplored. And by all accounts unfathomable.
This denial of the feminine depth by women is the biggest deceit that any man will ever face.
She bothers me.
I gaze primitively at her picture, but simultaneously shy away. My resistance at gazing intrigues and troubles me. Why do I look at her physique and not be filled with sexual desire but inexplicable chaos? It is not the depth of her femininity nor her superficial beauty that bids me shy way. Perhaps I shy away because 'ogling' the photo inevitably says something about me. Or perhaps, it is simply her deservedness that commands me so. Sheer envy at this accomplished athlete's intensity of focus and desire.
Though I do no deny the envy factor, I do dare suggest there is more to it; for if this were a male, I would not have batted an eyelid; complete ambivalence would be the order of the time. But her beautiful, gorgeous, inviting womanhood coupled with the unfathomable focus and effort that she has dedicated to her chosen field, is truly threatening to the masculine psyche. There's something about beautiful and successful women which is boldly demeaning.
I suddenly get the urge to deface her beauty in the paper. To quote 'Fight Club': "I wanted to destory something beautiful".
On second thoughts then, It is the depth of her femininity; the fact that she can deny her fame, she can deny her obscenity. The fact that she is desirable and desired by every man, yet makes it clear she is naive to such matters. For that reason, she challenges my 'masculinity' (that demolition worthy, awful, Patriarchal, social construct). For her femininity must be viewed as a strength, and not simply be defined as a feature lacking in masculinity. She is successful in spite and because of her womanhood. And there is nothing more frightening to a man in the world.
The male gaze is thus relegated to one of admiration and desire - not denigration - but one of ideals to live up to - not deprication. Further complicating the matter then: to live up to everything she is - one must be feminized. This is inherently problematic to the male psyche. First due to its unattainable nature and second due to my blatant refusal to do so: resulting in a broadly - yet powerfully - misogynistic outlook. For to admire a woman is to aspire to drown in her beautiful lascivious femininity, the depth of which is worryingly dark and unexplored. And by all accounts unfathomable.
This denial of the feminine depth by women is the biggest deceit that any man will ever face.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Sex and the Bourgeois
I wrote the following while bored in a lecture:
The tinge of sadness that lines the everyday existence is, in many ways, the greatest tragedy. The background noise which if heard well enough can drown you in its spontanaeity. Paradoxically, the same tragedy of life becomes precisely the jubilant chaos when faced with authenticity. To be truly alive is to recognize its existence, its authenticity in our truly duplicitious world. A bourgeois life of mundanity, petty values and ideals should not be allowed to govern our existential condition.
To strive for an acceptance of consciousness, somehow less and more primitive - simultaneously - is quintisentially golden. To strive for a divine (in no way spiritual) detachment; a detachment which is necessary to free us from the triviality of everyday life. To be detached is to see the universe in its all encomapassing glorious grandeur. By doing so, one can see the lack of connections which connect the entirety of this universe and marvel at this timid existence...and truly realize how breathtaking it is.
On a separate note, some guy said this, and I was suitably impressed: "a young bourgeois finds it hard to be a Marxist"
Disclaimer: some girl could have also said the aforenoted quote.
The tinge of sadness that lines the everyday existence is, in many ways, the greatest tragedy. The background noise which if heard well enough can drown you in its spontanaeity. Paradoxically, the same tragedy of life becomes precisely the jubilant chaos when faced with authenticity. To be truly alive is to recognize its existence, its authenticity in our truly duplicitious world. A bourgeois life of mundanity, petty values and ideals should not be allowed to govern our existential condition.
To strive for an acceptance of consciousness, somehow less and more primitive - simultaneously - is quintisentially golden. To strive for a divine (in no way spiritual) detachment; a detachment which is necessary to free us from the triviality of everyday life. To be detached is to see the universe in its all encomapassing glorious grandeur. By doing so, one can see the lack of connections which connect the entirety of this universe and marvel at this timid existence...and truly realize how breathtaking it is.
On a separate note, some guy said this, and I was suitably impressed: "a young bourgeois finds it hard to be a Marxist"
Disclaimer: some girl could have also said the aforenoted quote.
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
Abortion is...
Abortion is no easy topic to discuss. Especially on an informal blog such as this one. Remember that I'm just thinking out loud here, so don't sue me if it doesn't make sense.
When the question is asked, 'whether one supports abortion or not', most people are either indifferent or undecided. Those who are decided on pro-choice extreme cannot usually give all inclusive statements supporting their claims. Every reason for supporting abortion has an anti-claim. However, this is not the same for the faith based anti-abortion activist.
Those people who have faith on their side, repeatedly insist on citing the bible for claims as to the sanctity of human life, and how according to the Gospels, abortion is akin to murder. In fact those who have faith on their side can pretty much cite the bible/Koran in any life situation, and expect that others will believe their claims on this premise alone.
But what I do not at all understand is how the supposedly moderate Christian can refer to the bible as he/she desires. Most Christians these days recognize that the Bible is an outdated moral code designed to be adhered to in atavistic conditions; and that today's modern world requires a modern interpretation of the bible, reading new morals into today's problems. In this way, the moderate bible basher can twist and distort the biblical references to fit their desires as they please. I sincerely believe, that if one were to do so, one could easily take this to the extreme and somehow justify abortion...as sanctioned by the Gospels.
The book which so many people swear by, will give their life by, is so fickle even in its relevance to everyday existence, that its relevance to such an important issue such as abortion is truly questionworthy.
I will refrain from giving my point of view on the matter of whether abortion is right or wrong. Writing my argument on a blog is filled with lewd amounts of complexity for me to handle atm(1). My point of the above piece was, that the bible point of view of looking at abortions is irrelavant, and should be discarded. Let's think from a secular humanist point of view. Because, in reality, the Christian morals have updated and indeed followed the Humanist ideals of the time. Let's look at them for a guideline for ethical grounds of abortion.
(1) Although I will say that I will not judge whosoever chooses to abort, for I would completely understand their point of view on the matter, and their moral dilemmas. But one who chooses not to abort simply because they think it's murder - despite condemning the prospective child to a life full of conscious misery - I would certainly love to have a talk with about their views.
Btw, this abortion lead was followed on from Lee's blog, visit it for a more entertaining view: http://kinglee.livejournal.com
When the question is asked, 'whether one supports abortion or not', most people are either indifferent or undecided. Those who are decided on pro-choice extreme cannot usually give all inclusive statements supporting their claims. Every reason for supporting abortion has an anti-claim. However, this is not the same for the faith based anti-abortion activist.
Those people who have faith on their side, repeatedly insist on citing the bible for claims as to the sanctity of human life, and how according to the Gospels, abortion is akin to murder. In fact those who have faith on their side can pretty much cite the bible/Koran in any life situation, and expect that others will believe their claims on this premise alone.
But what I do not at all understand is how the supposedly moderate Christian can refer to the bible as he/she desires. Most Christians these days recognize that the Bible is an outdated moral code designed to be adhered to in atavistic conditions; and that today's modern world requires a modern interpretation of the bible, reading new morals into today's problems. In this way, the moderate bible basher can twist and distort the biblical references to fit their desires as they please. I sincerely believe, that if one were to do so, one could easily take this to the extreme and somehow justify abortion...as sanctioned by the Gospels.
The book which so many people swear by, will give their life by, is so fickle even in its relevance to everyday existence, that its relevance to such an important issue such as abortion is truly questionworthy.
I will refrain from giving my point of view on the matter of whether abortion is right or wrong. Writing my argument on a blog is filled with lewd amounts of complexity for me to handle atm(1). My point of the above piece was, that the bible point of view of looking at abortions is irrelavant, and should be discarded. Let's think from a secular humanist point of view. Because, in reality, the Christian morals have updated and indeed followed the Humanist ideals of the time. Let's look at them for a guideline for ethical grounds of abortion.
(1) Although I will say that I will not judge whosoever chooses to abort, for I would completely understand their point of view on the matter, and their moral dilemmas. But one who chooses not to abort simply because they think it's murder - despite condemning the prospective child to a life full of conscious misery - I would certainly love to have a talk with about their views.
Btw, this abortion lead was followed on from Lee's blog, visit it for a more entertaining view: http://kinglee.livejournal.com
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Pier Paolo Pasolini
Pictured above is Pier Paolo Pasolini, he was a brilliant and transgressive Italian Artist - in the truest sense of the word. Pasolini was part of the post-fascist movement of directors within Italy. However, he differed crucially in every respect, he was ...(void). Studying his work in the past few weeks has made me think so much and change to such a degree, that I have immeasurable respect for this now rather dead person.
He's my current role model. Fuck this guy was awesome. The use of an obscenity in an otherwise formal declaration is proof positive of how much I mean it. I suggest you read his biography...
Apart from that. Another topic:
I was wondering today about the void.
It is that void which is all encompassing. It is that singularity in each situation (or the sum of) in which all things converge and finally comprehend one another. If one were to realize it, it would define beyond perfection the truth in truth. However by the act of definition, the void would cease to exist, and all things would not converge there, and no - thing would react in perfect unison. It would have been soiled by the human conscious. That dirtiest of cloths.
So though we are not able to have knowledge, non-knowledge if you will, but by recognizing the existence, there is knowledge of this non-knowledge. Which is anti-thetically knowledge of that which is unknowable.
It is the void from which addition and subtraction of elements creates order and disorder simultaneously. The void whose net is zero. It exists in the unconscious and the physical. It is both objective and subjective. The void defies structure and authority.
Perhaps the word void needs to be examined. Afterall to be coined void is to know. In no way is our primitive formulaic language able to satisfy the requirements of comprehending this gap in reality. (Which is in fact the whole of reality.)
The void is then (omit the word 'then' at will) the unconscious of objectivity and subjectivity. It is the desert from which all exuded and will ultimately perish in. The desert, however, will always be there, it is eternal.
What is this crap? Unnecessary complications from a conceited mind. Conceited. Conceited. Conceited.
He's my current role model. Fuck this guy was awesome. The use of an obscenity in an otherwise formal declaration is proof positive of how much I mean it. I suggest you read his biography...
Apart from that. Another topic:
I was wondering today about the void.
It is that void which is all encompassing. It is that singularity in each situation (or the sum of) in which all things converge and finally comprehend one another. If one were to realize it, it would define beyond perfection the truth in truth. However by the act of definition, the void would cease to exist, and all things would not converge there, and no - thing would react in perfect unison. It would have been soiled by the human conscious. That dirtiest of cloths.
So though we are not able to have knowledge, non-knowledge if you will, but by recognizing the existence, there is knowledge of this non-knowledge. Which is anti-thetically knowledge of that which is unknowable.
It is the void from which addition and subtraction of elements creates order and disorder simultaneously. The void whose net is zero. It exists in the unconscious and the physical. It is both objective and subjective. The void defies structure and authority.
Perhaps the word void needs to be examined. Afterall to be coined void is to know. In no way is our primitive formulaic language able to satisfy the requirements of comprehending this gap in reality. (Which is in fact the whole of reality.)
The void is then (omit the word 'then' at will) the unconscious of objectivity and subjectivity. It is the desert from which all exuded and will ultimately perish in. The desert, however, will always be there, it is eternal.
What is this crap? Unnecessary complications from a conceited mind. Conceited. Conceited. Conceited.
Monday, 14 May 2007
In Defense of Scientology?
Yes, I've gone crazy. Defending scientology is not only hugely unpopular, but it is also unimaginably unlike the core 'me'. However, with all the anti-scientology sentiment going around, I thought someone has to say something here. Albeit online.
It seems that being anti-scientologist is fashionable these days. Indeed, I think it fits neatly into the fad of being generally atheistic in today's world, where non-belief is seen as a form of rebellion.
However, anti-scientology sentiment differs; it differs in that it is able to unite believers of traditional religion to get a taste of what it's like to be an atheist. The premise here being that Religious people have an innate underlying level of doubt which sways them towards non-belief from time to time. There are very few truly faithful in this world. That is, most people don't believe in god, but they believe very strongly in 'belief in god'. That's why faith is seen as a most virtous quality in a person, since the large proportion of the religious inherently reject the stories that religions preach.
So attacking Scientology has provided a new outlet for the frustrated religious. In opposition to this cult, they can now freely voice their underlying logical rational cores. All this without the fear of social outcasting. They can feel like aethists and voice for ones, the opinions they truly believe in, not those that they think would be 'nice' to believe in.
But really. How does Scientology differ from any other religion?
a) A really stupid storyline on which the whole faith is based
b) A plan for ultimate happinessc) A prophet
d) Economic Viability (to survive)
Granted that d) has gone way, way out of hand in the case of Scientology, but really....I think Scientologists have the right idea when they say they have a right to exist just like all other religions.
Sure, atheists (like I) are immune from this critiscism of the religous bias towards scientology. But even 'we' (if you're atheist) must not single out Scientology for their poor storyline and a ridiculous prophet, as other religions share these traits without exception.
P.S: I forgot to mention, a defense for anti-Sc. is that they are harming people by taking their money for the promise of ultimate revelation. Come on people! Look at the massive loss of life that occurs to this day due to Christian, Islamist or Hindu etc beliefs. I think taking money falls short on the 'harm-to-society' scale.
Saturday, 12 May 2007
Fatness
In this week's issue of Salient (Vic's weekly periodical), I read an article on food and fatness. The author was vehemently opposed to our society's slim body obsession. She wanted to encourage all readers to eat like you mean it, and enjoy life. Quite understandably, she was also upset with the synonym that has recently come to be of slim...healthy. She promotes happy eating, without guilt and distributes free cake to people so that they can discover the true meaning of health: 'feeling good about yourself, not weight'.
See, that's all fine and well, but I can't help but feel that the author has done a huge disservice to the advocates of healthy living; who don't promote being anorexic but neither do they promote being overweight. Being overweight is a stigma, admittedly, primarily because our body-conscious society wishes it to be so. However, there are more pressing scientific reason why overweight is bad, nay, terrible. Everyone knows what they are: diabetes, heart disease, and pretty much all other problems associated with the cardiovascular circuit. So my problem lies herein. Prompting future generations to give up being skinny must not (albeit inadvertently) help promote overweight. To oppose a wrong of society, the revolutionary must not encourage the other extreme which is equally detrimental.
My message to the author is simply this then. Let's actually promote a healthy weight range, in which the fewest range of medical complications have the potential to exist. Because whatever the definition of health, sick people generally tend not to fall under its classification.
See, that's all fine and well, but I can't help but feel that the author has done a huge disservice to the advocates of healthy living; who don't promote being anorexic but neither do they promote being overweight. Being overweight is a stigma, admittedly, primarily because our body-conscious society wishes it to be so. However, there are more pressing scientific reason why overweight is bad, nay, terrible. Everyone knows what they are: diabetes, heart disease, and pretty much all other problems associated with the cardiovascular circuit. So my problem lies herein. Prompting future generations to give up being skinny must not (albeit inadvertently) help promote overweight. To oppose a wrong of society, the revolutionary must not encourage the other extreme which is equally detrimental.
My message to the author is simply this then. Let's actually promote a healthy weight range, in which the fewest range of medical complications have the potential to exist. Because whatever the definition of health, sick people generally tend not to fall under its classification.
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
Atheism and Other things
Another day, another blog.
Recently, I have graduated. In the original typing of the previous sentence, I had included a multitude of exclamation marks as punctuation, but on hindsight, I decided that understatement is the best form of hyperbole. Wouldn't you agree???!?!?!!!!
Anyway, the day was great. Well, several days were great. At the expense of my education here at Vic, I went to Auckland for the weekend. Had a killer night at Matakana doing naughty things on saturday, and on sunday was mostly stressed about my gown hiring. None-the-less, the sunday night turned out to be much better than sunday morning. Went out for dinner with Lee's parents, so here's a huge shout out to them. Also a huge shout out to Joel for shouting me stuff on Saturday nite. You know what I'm talking about.
It felt not strange at all actually, catching up with people. It was like, as Matt said, "I'd not left at all". I guess I'd only left for 2 months really, but it just all flowed with such elegance that I was starting to doubt whether I'd ever go back.
Graduation itself was pretty laid back. They just call you up and you get your cert and leave. I thought I'd make it slightly more interesting, and yell "Hi mum" before getting my degree. I did. hehe.
What was stupid was , I forgot to take my new, digital SLR to the ceremony. It was my 21st present, and I felt really daft for not taking it with me. Friends instead had to take all the photos for me. It's k though; I got over it after mum hassled me for 2 continous days about it. lol.
hmmm...what else. I'm kinda feeling silly right now for making my blogs just like everyone else who's ever written a blog. The aim was for these to be slightly different. Meh. Who cares. Got other stuff to do right now. So I'd better do it!
Byeeeee
Recently, I have graduated. In the original typing of the previous sentence, I had included a multitude of exclamation marks as punctuation, but on hindsight, I decided that understatement is the best form of hyperbole. Wouldn't you agree???!?!?!!!!
Anyway, the day was great. Well, several days were great. At the expense of my education here at Vic, I went to Auckland for the weekend. Had a killer night at Matakana doing naughty things on saturday, and on sunday was mostly stressed about my gown hiring. None-the-less, the sunday night turned out to be much better than sunday morning. Went out for dinner with Lee's parents, so here's a huge shout out to them. Also a huge shout out to Joel for shouting me stuff on Saturday nite. You know what I'm talking about.
It felt not strange at all actually, catching up with people. It was like, as Matt said, "I'd not left at all". I guess I'd only left for 2 months really, but it just all flowed with such elegance that I was starting to doubt whether I'd ever go back.
Graduation itself was pretty laid back. They just call you up and you get your cert and leave. I thought I'd make it slightly more interesting, and yell "Hi mum" before getting my degree. I did. hehe.
What was stupid was , I forgot to take my new, digital SLR to the ceremony. It was my 21st present, and I felt really daft for not taking it with me. Friends instead had to take all the photos for me. It's k though; I got over it after mum hassled me for 2 continous days about it. lol.
hmmm...what else. I'm kinda feeling silly right now for making my blogs just like everyone else who's ever written a blog. The aim was for these to be slightly different. Meh. Who cares. Got other stuff to do right now. So I'd better do it!
Byeeeee
Wednesday, 2 May 2007
Wooohoooo!!
I'm far too excited to write a proper blog. But I gotta scholarship at Vic!!!!!!!!
Wooohoooooooooooo.
In other news, people STILL dying in Iraq and Sudan. Seriously people, give it a break already, we're tired of your persistent and pressing display of mortality.
Wooohoooooooooooo.
In other news, people STILL dying in Iraq and Sudan. Seriously people, give it a break already, we're tired of your persistent and pressing display of mortality.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Aimless
I am writing this blog despite a complete lack of forethought. That is, I have no idea whatsoever as to what I will be writing about tonite.
Right now, I am in the middle of writing a 40% essay, for an Italian film called: 'Hercules in the Haunted World'. I feel rather stupid choosing this topic now as the amount of scholarly articles for this film are beyond scant. Indeed, non-existent. I wish I could pass this off as an excuse for a bad essay; as indeed it will be...
Since this is turing out to be a bit of a rant, I may as well continue. I lost something in my room today, in fact one of many, many times that I have done so. What is beyond me is, that my room being so small, and so limited in regards to storage facility, how I could possibly lose anything! It's completely insane. I am starting to believe there is some divine intervention which so acts to make my life just that little bit more difficult. It is fun though. In a hair pulling out of head way.
I wonder how many times people edit their written blogs on average. There's this persistent anxiety of slipping and revealing something profound about one's personality. Which is what I am doing now I suppose.
Meh. Let it be. I may edit this later anyway...
Right now, I am in the middle of writing a 40% essay, for an Italian film called: 'Hercules in the Haunted World'. I feel rather stupid choosing this topic now as the amount of scholarly articles for this film are beyond scant. Indeed, non-existent. I wish I could pass this off as an excuse for a bad essay; as indeed it will be...
Since this is turing out to be a bit of a rant, I may as well continue. I lost something in my room today, in fact one of many, many times that I have done so. What is beyond me is, that my room being so small, and so limited in regards to storage facility, how I could possibly lose anything! It's completely insane. I am starting to believe there is some divine intervention which so acts to make my life just that little bit more difficult. It is fun though. In a hair pulling out of head way.
I wonder how many times people edit their written blogs on average. There's this persistent anxiety of slipping and revealing something profound about one's personality. Which is what I am doing now I suppose.
Meh. Let it be. I may edit this later anyway...
Friday, 27 April 2007
Lies
I am writing this blog immediately after telling someone that I don't write a blog. Why? Well, because in my opinion, blogs are for people whom life has no meaning outside their computer screens. A generation of individuals who are so captured and incapacitated by binary, that life becomes a series of meaningless decisions of compulsion. Perhaps, it is the best approach.
Of course, I do I have a blog. I am part of that generation; I am an individual who has conveniently forgotten his impending mortality.
I was considering a month or two ago the 'realization' of self. I will paste what I wrote in, since I wrote in only in notepad.
This is a cautious attempt at writing when I'm under the influence. I said cautious, but I meant reluctant.
Reluctant, as I have really no clue what to write about. This evidently will not be the best I have ever written. Also, I am under no pretension of being highly creative during this mind-altered state. I said pretension, I meant illusion...I think.
I think therefore I am. Really?
Who am I? Why am I me? These two sentences in the interrogative may sound cliched and dull but I'm inclined to ask. Perhaps it is because only recently have I found what the true meaning behind this question is. As a theist, these questions are quickly ignored. However, during atheism: this question is indeed most troubling. Questions about why I am 'I' and not that table. 'I' inevitably seems to be an entity. A being, a reality of knowing thyself's existence that is beyond the purely physical. But I don't mean physical strictly in terms of materialistic fundamentality; instead, I mean physical in terms of determinism.
Arthur Miller, believed that he would live on after he died. At that time, I dismissed him as a believer of some sort. But I can see now, that due to this ontological discrepancy. This consciousness. He could be right. Because 'I' is a concept that challenges equality amongst creatures of the earth. For example, I am I, and not my best friend. Why? What does it mean to be me? What are the specifications? I'm somewhat embarrased at asking these oft-asked-ill-meant, questions. But the reader must understand that there are two states of minds which one can ask these questions. One, in which you see yourself as a product of purely deterministic universe (with some randomness); or two, in which you see yourself as a realisation of being. That is, more existentially. Perhaps, this will not help my readers at all. The only point that I would like to get across here is that these are not rudimentary questions. They stem out of a realisation that is extremely difficult to articulate. Likewise, these questions are not able to be answered, since they are not valid questions due to their false articulation.
I digress.
I do acknowledge that the piece above is not very informative. Articulation is a difficult endeavour. But I was thinking today as well, existentially of course, about the state of an individual. The state of being, the state of a real recognition that 'one will die'; I can't do it. It seems the only way to really live life, and not be stuck in the triviality of everyday proceedings is a recognition that one's time is limited. The things that worry us are the very things that should not be worried about; these false aspirations, these false truths, these true lies...
The aim of life is not to be content. However, it should at least be recognized that one/I am not a puppet distraught by the strings of society. That the 'I' which I have spoke of before should be acknowledged to the 'I', that is, to own's consciousness.
Not at all clear. But, what is? (I know you're not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction)
Cheers
Thursday, 26 April 2007
Procrastination
I have nothing profound to say about procrastination. Indeed. I can only say that I'm under the influence of this drug right now. As I write this blog, I should in fact be writing a 25% essay, alas I choose not to. It is most curious that I am in fact aware -perfectly well- of what I am doing. I am aware of the consequences, as am I aware of the long-term implications on my life. None-the-less, I will persist until I have no option but to focus.
In a film lecture today, we had talks on transgression and european art cinema. It was very eye opening really. The boundaries that we set ourselves are completely understandable, yet completely ludicrous. The taboos that we perpetuate everyday, and the prejudices that we harbour are indeed shameful. Is it only up to the individual then to be transgressive, even if it does mean that he/she becomes a social outcast. We all know that there is no joy in being an outcast. At some point during the outcast scenario, one starts to wonder whether his (or her) ideals are greater than his (or her) happiness. Assuming of course that societal acceptance begets happiness, which in most cases it does not.
Here's a copy of the Transgressive Manifesto, if anyone whoever stumbles here is ever interseted:
In a film lecture today, we had talks on transgression and european art cinema. It was very eye opening really. The boundaries that we set ourselves are completely understandable, yet completely ludicrous. The taboos that we perpetuate everyday, and the prejudices that we harbour are indeed shameful. Is it only up to the individual then to be transgressive, even if it does mean that he/she becomes a social outcast. We all know that there is no joy in being an outcast. At some point during the outcast scenario, one starts to wonder whether his (or her) ideals are greater than his (or her) happiness. Assuming of course that societal acceptance begets happiness, which in most cases it does not.
Here's a copy of the Transgressive Manifesto, if anyone whoever stumbles here is ever interseted:
We who have violated the laws, commands and duties of the avant-garde; i.e. to bore, tranquilize and obfuscate through a fluke process dictated by practical convenience stand guilty as charged. We openly renounce and reject the entrenched academic snobbery which erected a monument to laziness known as structuralism and proceeded to lock out those filmmakers who possesed the vision to see through this charade.
We refuse to take their easy approach to cinematic creativity; an approach which ruined the underground of the sixties when the scourge of the film school took over. Legitimising every mindless manifestation of sloppy movie making undertaken by a generation of misled film students, the dreary media arts centres and geriatic cinema critics have totally ignored the exhilarating accomplishments of those in our rank - such underground invisibles as Zedd, Kern, Turner, Klemann, DeLanda, Eros and Mare, and DirectArt Ltd, a new generation of filmmakers daring to rip out of the stifling straight jackets of film theory in a direct attack on every value system known to man.
We propose that all film schools be blown up and all boring films never be made again. We propose that a sense of humour is an essential element discarded by the doddering academics and further, that any film which doesn't shock isn't worth looking at. All values must be challenged. Nothing is sacred. Everything must be questioned and reassessed in order to free our minds from the faith of tradition.Intellectual growth demands that risks be taken and changes occur in political, sexual and aesthetic alignments no matter who disapproves. We propose to go beyond all limits set or prescribed by taste, morality or any other traditional value system shackling the minds of men. We pass beyond and go over boundaries of millimeters, screens and projectors to a state of expanded cinema.
We violate the command and law that we bore audiences to death in rituals of circumlocution and propose to break all the taboos of our age by sinning as much as possible. There will be blood, shame, pain and ecstasy, the likes of which no one has yet imagined. None shall emerge unscathed. Since there is no afterlife, the only hell is the hell of praying, obeying laws, and debasing yourself before authority figures, the only heaven is the heaven of sin, being rebellious, having fun, fucking, learning new things and breaking as many rules as you can. This act of courage is known as transgression. We propose transformation through transgression - to convert, transfigure and transmute into a higher plane of existence in order to approach freedom in a world full of unknowing slaves.
---Nick Zedd
We refuse to take their easy approach to cinematic creativity; an approach which ruined the underground of the sixties when the scourge of the film school took over. Legitimising every mindless manifestation of sloppy movie making undertaken by a generation of misled film students, the dreary media arts centres and geriatic cinema critics have totally ignored the exhilarating accomplishments of those in our rank - such underground invisibles as Zedd, Kern, Turner, Klemann, DeLanda, Eros and Mare, and DirectArt Ltd, a new generation of filmmakers daring to rip out of the stifling straight jackets of film theory in a direct attack on every value system known to man.
We propose that all film schools be blown up and all boring films never be made again. We propose that a sense of humour is an essential element discarded by the doddering academics and further, that any film which doesn't shock isn't worth looking at. All values must be challenged. Nothing is sacred. Everything must be questioned and reassessed in order to free our minds from the faith of tradition.Intellectual growth demands that risks be taken and changes occur in political, sexual and aesthetic alignments no matter who disapproves. We propose to go beyond all limits set or prescribed by taste, morality or any other traditional value system shackling the minds of men. We pass beyond and go over boundaries of millimeters, screens and projectors to a state of expanded cinema.
We violate the command and law that we bore audiences to death in rituals of circumlocution and propose to break all the taboos of our age by sinning as much as possible. There will be blood, shame, pain and ecstasy, the likes of which no one has yet imagined. None shall emerge unscathed. Since there is no afterlife, the only hell is the hell of praying, obeying laws, and debasing yourself before authority figures, the only heaven is the heaven of sin, being rebellious, having fun, fucking, learning new things and breaking as many rules as you can. This act of courage is known as transgression. We propose transformation through transgression - to convert, transfigure and transmute into a higher plane of existence in order to approach freedom in a world full of unknowing slaves.
---Nick Zedd
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)