40 pages

There’s only some forty more pages left to fill in this notebook I got back in January. On average it seems I go through around that many pages a week, give or take days and papers. Anyway I decided to do a 40 line poem as a way to coincide with the limited time. 

One week sleeps into late day, two nights all awake—

Third much of the same, occasionally crashing into a comatose state,

Conscious again before too long, too much too soon;

Too little and too early, why bother finding party or comradery?

What’s truly bothering is the practicality of a purple pen—

Smooth and spitting out ink, cleaned out down to the last drop…

Time moves rapidly in frozen mind-play:

Past and present blur as a future momentarily concurs,

Blots and smeared papers, stained hand sides,

For my own private eyes  

Live a little, die a thousand times and revive: rewrite

Scribbling out stupidities, evident mistakes—

Shown shit-shot, candid calamity and beautiful brevity,

Youthful nuisances, minded turbulence: reconfigured truths—

Re-arranged attitudes and unconscious allusions; 

Cat-curious amidst confusion;

Point on paper unleashing recreation:

Pint of this, hint of that— interpersonal correlation,

Odd lack of initial understanding— 

Constant conceptual mining

Minced misunderstandings, collected intellectual entropy—

Cultivated clarity with continual correction,

Biological computer, handwritten invigoration;

Sober and stoned, added combined comprehension,

Cautious perception in cynical self-recognition—

Pattern-porn checkered and torn:

Poured out passion; scripted convictions,

Contradicted end-missions;

Shredded shrink, dipped feet loosely sink

Persisting proof, grandiose and grotesque:

Banal bullshit and gray gaiety—

Spills, savored sips of ever-intaken coffee,

Ingested liquid-literary sanity;

Black envy and calmly smoking,

Eloped knowing with missing a million marks—

Paper pulpit, flammable consultant;

Frayed flames, stoked dust long after the smoke

Indifferently uplifting self-psychoanalysis

Forty more pages to fill and never miss

Coffee iii

Written originally on a napkin in a Diner while drinking coffee after having had an incredibly midnight meal. 

Midnight dish, March cool must;

Diner went, marijuana tailing scent,

Candid, average mundane extreme instance—

Half & Half creamer for a warm cup of coffee;

Unique interaction unfolds before—

Fly on the wall, intaking it all:

Odd, interesting overall;

Stool-chairs and witnessed baking

Tasteful creations; plentiful French toast,

Over half a century old, empty and now late becomes early;

Fresh hit, caffeinated hot bliss—

Spoon-spinning vital existence 

Considerations on K-Punk

Analysis on articles in the collected book of Mark Fishers’ K-Punk blog. One of many. This instance here uses two articles to channel their concepts.

Mark Fisher– batman’s political turn right

“Anti-capitalism is nothing new in Hollywood. From Wall-E to Avatar corporations are routinely depicted as evil. The contradiction of corporate-funded films denouncing corporations is an irony capitalism cannot just absorb, but thrive on. Yet this capitalism is only allowed within limits… but any direct action against the rich, or revolutionary moves toward the redistribution of property, will lead to a dystopian nightmare.”

Mark Fisher– star wars was a sell-out from the start

“All that Star Wars added to the formula was a certain spectacle– the spectacle of technology, via then state-of-the-art special effects and of course the spectacle of its own success, which became part of the experience of the film.”

Reminiscent of what Jordan Peterson divulged in his thirteenth 2015 personality lecture on existentialism and its relation to totalitarian regimes of the 20th century; articulating the literal magic embodied and venerated from an item, or idealized object such as Elvis Presley’s guitar: 

You think: what exactly is that it makes a guitar Elvis’ guitar? It is not exactly the guitar, because it is just sitting there, like any object does, and maybe you could be able to think about it. You could take that guitar out and put a guitar just like it, and it would still be Elvis’ guitar because they wouldn’t know. So you might think that this is not really Elvis’ guitar. That is a funny thing because you would only think that if you thought that Elvis’ guitar was the thing that was made out of material that was sitting right in front of you. And that isn’t what it is. That is only one tiny little bit of it. That bloody thing is a part of an incredibly layered reality. I mean, the people who want to go look at that, they are looking at it in some sense because of the magic that is emanating from it, but the magic is actually real. The magic is the effect of that guitar, let’s say, on the entire culture. And those effects are the damn guitar too. And it is weird, because when you go look at Elvis’ guitar, you are not looking at the guitar, you are looking at the magic.

Be it as grandiose as Elvis’ guitar or the mechanical sounds of Darth Vader inhaling and exhaling before igniting his red lightsaber in the smokey corridor of rebel scum trying to save the Death Star plans at the climax to Rogue One, setting the stage for A New Hope. Movies have always had a magical element to them with their power to enthrall a person, even if the movie itself isn’t ‘good’, as does anything with such a mythical status which manages to hold itself in the eyes of loving customers, even if more than half of them criticize Disney’s handling of franchises or Machiavellian theatrics deployed by the USA in Venezuela in recent months, or Iran in the last few weeks. Fishers’ point adds up: The Empire may be a visible parable to systems seen in place by the day to day, but it would be similar to the 2025 film One Battle After Another. A fetish for change and cinema to explore it on the big screen and feel everything in safety, either way feeding the criticized apparatus. Rinse, repeat and a big-budget box office release. Tomorrow is different but it is still the same.

Film and customizable apparel, whether in line of the corporate oversight or perceived personal preference lends to a commodified presentation nonetheless and regardless of individual stance. What such pathos pulling pieces seem to do is a sort of simulation– it titillates a person’s senses enough that they’re energized, fired up. Then it dissipates as nothing truly changes quickly enough in one’s own lifetime, yet completely shifts all throughout. Maybe the window dressings change so as to peer out and allow glimpses in; creating an aesthetic, apathetic loop– rerun after remake; some memetic comedy is almost a necessary relief.

Due to popularity largely originating from the 2018 Doomer Wojak meme caricature, the Doomer concept can be likened to a more recent (than 8 years ago) meme. While dubious in nature of origin and unlikely to be correct in historical account, most speculation pointing to upon realizing his loss at Waterloo, Napoleon Bonaparte is purported to have solemnly admonished, “There’s nothing we can do”; which was lifted and taken through a spin online around the same time Ridley Scott released a ‘biopic’ on the mythical man. Pair the phrase then paste it onto a melancholic image of the French Emperor with the overlaying of a song called Armor Plastique by Adelle Castillon, usually slowed down with a hint of reverb on for added and implied effect…

Beheaded Boredom

Darwinian dice, fatalistic vice

Called it once, twice— always on the thought of paying some price

Power political pornographic infliction;

Assigned, accepted addictions of condition 

Beheaded boredom, bed on barbed wire;

Unconscious, solipsistic twosome-

Voluptuous, digitally burning fire;

Smooth slide, decreased rapid descent

Destination somewhere, destination nowhere 

All-day destitution, noticeable nuisances 

Everywhere disillusioned, cadaver conclusion

Pointless existence, inconsequential egress

International island of abundant indulgence-

Absurdist contradiction, lust in luxury;

Active brain death, comatose curation

Computing correction and everlasting electric connection 

Detective Daydream

On the public transit bus, I had payed the $2.50 fee to ride, though see others board for free. In my seat I begin to drift— mind meandering until I’m in the third person. Not so dissociative, more so all-intuitive. I think of myself as some detective from a noir flick from probably a century ago, and being in Chicago I had a perfect image and energy to feed off for such a bit. 

Going along on the way to the Museum of Science & Industry, as it would pertain to answers necessary to solving a secret case. See, some weeks ago a group, some degrees removed from old Capone and his goons, hijacked a delivery expecting booze and wound up mistakenly making it away with some leftover moon food. That dehydrated stuff they give to astronauts. Not the most glorious case to take, but one must make a name by some stakes. 

Entrance to the museum and innard exhibitions free as being on “active duty” for the case, though I’m not technically working for any agency, merely lending assistance where they screwed the pooch. There inside I find where it all would be to see, checking out some examples of what I am looking for which isn’t stolen. In order to “gain a better idea” about it all I stop in and see a small explanatory video about space— it’s a hopeless case. The stolen food is an inconsequential, although unfortunate, misstep which is likely lost forever. Dehydrated I’m not sure where it will end up beside some trash bin or dumped on the side of some road. 

Stopping at the cafe inside the monolith of a museum to have coffee and a donut prior and after the screening, coming up with this silly daydream. 

20

Like with during the exact beginning of the New Year (of this year, 2026) with crafting a poem— Time Eats—  for a technicality of Laos around the sun while even a fetus— given my birthday is March 15 (today), reason could stand I could have had higher cerebral function at the time of 2005 slipping into 2006 whilst in the womb. 

The idea then on New Years being the same as now— as well as planned since then. That being twenty lines of a poem for twenty completed years of existence. 

One hour now

I guess I’m counting down 

Pre-emptive beginning while sipping Dr Pepper;

Unpredictable routes and consequential decisions—

Diabolical, ever-active imagination; rogue, unknowable destitution 

Another year another set of marks

Another decade and another coin toss

Alive as needed, echoing existentialist 

Surviving fatalist, salience negation

Prolonged, idealized condition…

Three minutes after the hour and two decades after the mundane occurrence 

Inconsequential unpredictable fluid drenched ignorant entity

Coagulated, vital existence in odd degrees

20 years: banal, beautiful and bitter altogether 

Interesting introspective case study every other day 

Incessant inquiries and reductive rationality to passive nihilative survival

Information addict; coffee fiend

Lovely DVDs shown on small screens

Awake through nonexistent alarms

Ever queer-quotient: liquidated totality 

https://open.spotify.com/episode/2r1azTkWCIHgw55Yimkxov?si=juYSCvUAQFWwsuSoimKF_w

space bit

A poem I wrote while on a binge of media relating to the astrophysicist Brian Cox. His way of explaining space is incredible in his enthusiasm and genuine mannerisms. 

Rare Earth, scarce solar system

Dual star siphoning interstellar entity 

Intangible and unimaginable galaxy

Unswimmable ocean, unintruded swamp

Exponential growth, inconsequential replication 

Implausible detection, silent civilization 

Quieter than the dead, darker than in bed

Filled with light, cloaked in eternal night

Pitch-black stellar screen

Hypothetically immoral interference 

Intergalactic law, future fixed flaw

Or merely, tribes only rise to swiftly fall

Orchid wreckage, birthed to bloom

gone so soon; unbeatable horizon filter

Heavy hitter, advanced event spark snuffer

Eyewitness to Expiration

Continuing my interest/research into online addiction and digital manifestations of its effects, from doomerism to dopamine draining of all varieties. Condensing/collecting understanding via poetry. Also coagulated is this playlist of videos on the topic and related matters. 

Intangible long-term award

New normal, formal habitation

Relayed information, idea of influence

Instant delay as time slips away and suddenly it's day

Wasted night without a trace of fight

Evening after evening, morning screaming behind the screen

Proposed productivity, unscratchable itch now high and mighty

Untapped constant ads, ridiculous constant content

Unending fill, down and down with nowhere else to go

No bottom, never-ending circuit

More, more, more; algorithm adored until you pass out and snore

Volume up full blast; random, automated generative space

Personal unpredictable programming

Wholesome vine and a slip beyond entertainment

Focal, inconsequential nothing

Doomed, oh well still won't do shit whichever way it gets put

Eroded existence, consuming escapism

Circular glowing rut

Conclusive out-of-body hobby

Conscious, common misery

Menial memories, cracked magnificence fed with inflated insignificance 

Useless tool turned into a ligature for ape-brained fools

Contended creation, out of bag algorithmic filler

Eyewitness to expiration

Online Addiction: Analysis/Review || Extended Research

Quoted in the short read but invariably the most accurate piece of information found in research regarding Online Addiction thusfar, New Yorker writer Maria Konnikova in her article Is Internet Addiction A Real Thing stated that with how the Internet, "is changing too rapidly for researchers to keep up, and, though the immediate effects are fairly visible, there's no telling what the condition [of Internet addiction] will look like over the long term." 

Patricia Netzley's small book, topically titled Online Addiction is a useful overview in regards to its subject matter. Navigating the unsettled dust of digital existence overlapping with physical, nails it quite nicely on the head as it would seem in its short explanations. The addiction to online activity she purports stems from a variety of converging factors offline-- other mental ailments and compulsive habits-- and the Internet becoming merely another notch to scratch onto the belt; like the habitual masturbator's case divulged by Anne Lembke in her book Dopamine Nation. Where it would seem outdated however, and differing from other addictions is that within the modern scape of acknowledging addiction to the Internet there is a high awareness of it, to the point of extreme meta-irony rather than shameful admissions of guilt from the acquired compulsions. Why have shame over something so nearly unavoidable with its constant proximity and accessibility? 

The book is beneficial nonetheless, and in fact as aforementioned acknowledges its almost instantaneous out-dated data as the landscape of the World Wide Web is so constantly updating and changing shape.

Coagulating an explanation based on current affairs and contents of the book however is seemingly possible: in the modern epoch of all-access abundance mixed with incessant, near constant 'once-in-a-lifetime generational events', and all-around volume seemingly at maximum screaming coming together in moments of stillness; boredom as the being is so used to being under some form of strain, duress, that scrolling provides sufficient stimulation. Stagnant, seemingly social yet altogether solitary after an hour sitting on the toilet, screen in between knees. 

In shorter, less wordy detail the gist of Netzley's book is that extreme boredom in a more lax era of existence is to an ape with an evolved overactive imagination. 

Coffee ii collage

 

Re: Doomerism in its essentials

Something from the earlier Internet which could mark an early onset of digital addiction: Doomerism. Slingshotted post-2018 into higher popularity in usage and identification; peaking in its widespread adoption and attraction in 2020 with the tick in tuning into its more musical forms. 

The issues it confronted however still quite relevant from being listed on the Doomsday clock’s recent, somewhat fear-mongering announcement; climate change, oil, new wars. Tomorrow is different but it’s still the same. The gist being that warning signs are apparently all around, screaming that the end of days are well on their way. 

Ideation on this makes the nihilative quality of Doomerism almost religious. It’s the same expectation as with a group such as the Jehovah’s Witness’ and their ever failing prophecies of Revelations in the foreseeable future. 

Doomer, fatalist in an abundant mirror

Apocalyptic natalist, digital survivalist

Waiting, as if praying for the end—

Gotcha moment when it’s all done

Parallel prepping, Cold War style-stressing

Fearing, fetishizing the post-nuke fugue

Regurgitating nihilistic entropy;

Expected, predicted predestination 

Alien In Every Room

Conscious, constant rift

Ever-present opposition;

Impulse? Average existence?

Fly on every wall, watching and listening in on all obnoxious noxious noise within vicinity;

Varying common variables: symptomatically atypical—

Witness in meta-analytical eyes;

Third side listening to dual lies

Alien option, hesitating on humanity,

Estranged optics, encompassing isolation—

Beneficial break, tainting lamentation

Obstructing ousting, ever-clear oddity;

Similar space debris,

differing gamma outburst;

Slow, creeping, inevitable but altogether unpredictable worst,

as if it’s the first, never the final—

Always another round lined up,

Fresh paint makes flying away indescribable;

Fluttering from one wall to another,

Static, stagnant movement: incarcerating free-reign. 

Dopamine Nation: Analysis

My initial/preliminary thoughts can be read here. 

Concluding my first go-through of psychiatrist Anne Lembke’s book Dopamine Nation I can’t help but feel a bit let down. The expectation being that it would dig into the nature of addiction and its relationship to increasing digital existence; and maybe it did act in such a way, however it would seem more general— typical— case studies. 

Largely it would stand better as a general overview of addiction and how it manifests in the modern age of all-access abundance with the closest to a screen addition that gets the most highlighted is that of a man with uncontrollable masturbatory tendencies— which as a byproduct included compulsory activities in association with Internet and TV pornography, to the degree that on the current state of the World Wide Web the gentleman would be called a ‘gooner’. 

With that it presents the reader with various accounts from Lembke’s personal career in treating people with such ailments. Interwoven referential historical psychological findings from the marshmellow experiments with children to Pavlovian control in the realm of developmental psychology; to neuroscientific insights into the connection between brain chemistry and compulsory behavior relating to the pain/pleasure balance. Where it would seem the book is most interesting is in its explanations of in how many ways the mind reasserts, or attempts to reassert, equilibrium on that scale through fascinating plasticity. 

As for a taste of more digital addiction it would seem more fruitful researching elsewhere. Terminologically Anne Lembke’s book is a good resource, but in researching the compulsion to screens it would seem better information can be gained elsewhere; though as such serves as a good explanatory basis of addiction. 

Coffee ii

Coffee stained on the back of my hand

Covering skin, expressing cracks and follicles

Brown-black over pale; a better textured smell.

Coffee: invigorating, uplifting entity—

French press delicacy, Colombian serentity

Heart-beating ease of sleep

Skip-step, racing wide awake;

steamy, caged insanity— hot creamy, controlled calamity

Alleviating pet-peeves, annoying discrepancies 

Up-right, so I can write; long after day shifts into moonlight, pleasurable blue nights

Like a cold-cheap milkshake-looking mixture,

midnight concoction before a quick weed-breather 

Tired survival, fresh blissfully evoked revival

Creative tool, albeit addictive in half rule

Certain stimulation, ingenious mental captivating

Anytime, anywhere: coffee is nearly always there

Delicious drink, bitterfully filling taste

Memories enduring from every small association,

happy to haunting all in a sip then gone away at once—

awry and alright…

Electronic Eye Candy

 

 Researching for a planned companion to Tomorrow Is Different But It's Still The Same regarding the all too common digital addiction is this mashed coagulation of notes on what I've gathered looking through the information presented by psychiatrist Anne Lambke in her book Dopamine Nation; as well as appearance on the Joe Rogan podcast. In a sense there's a (possibly imposed) sense of irony in posting it online to be consumed via digital delivery, at least initially; but so is scrolling to read the book in free pdf format and listening to information. Call it data, call it content; regardless of respective/preferred verbiage to refer to it, it's still doomscrolling on a certain level all the same.

Eternal In-between

Bullshit, bold candor

Self-sufficient progenator

Banal bastardization

In my head

In my head

Eternal war between-

erratic ecstacy, dreadful delicacy

Tomorrow Is Different But It's Still The Same

"That ontological dimension is what is missing from the progressive populist model, in which  the masses cannot but appear as dupes, fooled by the lies of the elite but ready to effectuate change the moment they are made aware of the truth. The reality, of course, is that the 'masses' are under a few illusions about the ruling elite... populist fantasies-- more than that: the duped subject awaiting factual enlightenment is the presupposition on which progressive populism rests. If the most crucial political task is to enlighten the masses about the venality of the ruling class, then the preferred mode of discourse will be denunciation. Yet, this repeats rather than challenges the liberal order; it is no accident that the Mail and the Express favor the same denunciatory mode. Attacks on politicians tend to reinforce the atmosphere of diffuse cynicism upon which capitalist realism feeds. What is needed is not more empirical evidence of the evils of the ruling class but a belief on the part of the subordinate class that what they think or say matters; that they are the only effective agents of change."

"...what is depressing is the implacable poptimism of the official culture, forever exhorting us to be excited about the latest dreary shiny cultural product and hectoring us for failing to be sufficiently positive. A certain 'vulgar Deleuzianism', preaching against any kind of negativity, provides the theology for this compulsory excitation, evangelising on the endless delights available if only we consume harder. But what it is so often inspiring-- in politics as much as in popular culture-- is the capacity to nihilate present conditions. The nihilative slogan is neither be 'things are good, there is no need for change', nor 'things are bad, they cannot change', but 'things are bad, therefore they must change.'"

"The depressive, totally dislocated from the world, is in a better position to undergo subjective destitution than someone who thinks that there is some home within the current order that can be preserved and defended." --Mark Fisher, Dis-identity politics 

Understanding this by a current analogy to worldly-- or just national events. Protests such as the 'no kings' marches and attempted governmental shutdowns, as well as fetishised nationwide walkout from all occupations and sectors of life (as if that luxury of an option can be afforded by everyone) show a failure in understanding the idea of perpetual/permanent revolution as Marx and Trotsky intended on behalf of those left of centrism. Mirroring this from Charlottesville to the 2021 takeover of the United States capitol building on January 6 by the right shows a lack of motivation, or ambition, towards much of anything beyond a temporary spectacle; rather than using accomplishments as sustaining fuel for fire, future deeds of might in order to install some new idealised system. 

In his second appearance on Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan's podcast The Magnificent Others, Hollywood legacy and writer Conrad Flynn explored the modern epoch of "avatars" and modern culturally imbued individuals, paralleled to those hoisted up in the 1960s and '70s by the New Left as akin to those empowered by the New Right. Main examples given being John Lennon and Kanye "Ye" West, Nick Fuentes and Abby Hoffman. Explaining these sorts of characters repeat in the cycles of time, people responding to similar signals and finding a purpose being presented by said representative Avatars. Archetypes viewed in light of the atmosphere's of the era's; the 1960s and '70s permeated by the assassination of [both] Kennedy['s] and a nonsensical foreign war  in Vietnam and Civil Rights struggles; eventually seemingly dying down as the combative overseas conflict concluded and legally solved in certain regards. Ultimately however the grounds of contention shifted ever so slightly in scope viewed and issues covered. 

Kicking off the roaring 2020s, was a hypothesised war which never came into fruition beyond memes, forgotten as quickly as the hype around it began. Fast forward two months into the new decade and delving into a year and a half long bipolar quarantine as a result of the COVID-19 virus taking a global stranglehold. Whether it was a bioweapon invented on behalf of some Chinese weapon lab, elite meddling to induce the populus into more controlled fortion-- fear tactics-- is only slightly relevant to the ensuing cabin fever increasing hypernormalisation en mass. Deviation in mundane existence made clear as celebrities gathered together to sing Lennon's song Imagine from luxury while the rest of the people struggled to find something as simple as toilet paper. 

"Purpose. I sell purpose. These people got nothing; maybe they lost a job or a house or a kid to Oxy. Politicians don't give a shit, mainstream media tells them to be ashamed of their skin color. So, well, I bring 'em together, tell them a story, give them a purpose. Which would you rather believe? That you belong to a community of secret warriors battling a secret evil, or that you're a lonely inconsequential nobody that no one will ever remember?" --Firecracker, The Boys s4e2

Hippie, groyper, black panther, ally.  From Fuentes 'hot takes' and rising "aura" in the wake of the post-mortem deification via meme martyrdom of Charlie Kirk to Instagram influencers posting black squares in support of Black Lives Matter, even going back two decades to the height of the pop-punk/emo explosion. Fandom serves for fulfilment where purpose is lacking in order to sustain a motivational self-esteem; as Firecracker explained to Sister Sage her area of work in the irony intense series The Boys. As Timothy Leary gave out LSD, now people hallucinate from dopamine drained brains. Queer, Nazi, nigger, Thelemite, conservative, faggot, Deadhead: reclaimed is merely a synonym for repackages and sold in numbers. From this a Nietzschean posit can be made: as from the melancholic declaration mourning the murder of God at the hands of his creators and adherents, the attempts to fill a void of purpose and ways to exist in a world so seemingly less difficult, but simultaneously no different a struggle. Tomorrow is different but it's still the same.

"Identity politics seeks respect and recognition from the master class; dis-identity politics seeks the dissolution of the classifactory apparatus itself." (Fisher)

Now six years and another election later, new foreign conflicts sprouting in the midst of it all. From a nuclear false flag to a wary last-ditch effort to keep antisemite a bad label; it's almost like the second world war never ended. Machiavellian theatrics deployed to old foreign failures from Venezuela to Iran. Dictators dead or in cells to cheering citizens as bombs continue to explode over the latter; who were witness to mass executions earlier this year on behalf of protesting the oppressive regime, mirroring in a massive degree of difference but simultaneously similarly viewed killing of protestors by ICE in the United States in the midst of its own civil distress. As in the beginning of last June it is in the start of this March with missiles lighting up the Middle Eastern skyline; all because a nation which wasn't there until the 1940s has likely evidence the sitting POTUS fucked kids and is now MOSSAD's bitch. Days of future past; tomorrow is different, but it's still the same.