Imagining a World Where we Can't Juggle

IS it that the throw in the dice picture is visualised differently to a juggler? As Meillassoux's thrown dice emerge into my mind, the dice with the million faces that are always landing the same way up has made me think of a universe where the balls thrown never enter the juggler's hands, I reverse my own way of thinking about learning in order to apprehend the moment where philosphy pitches into my lived imaginings about juggling; as I had intended to think about juggling a specific number of balls, as in learning to juggle the key is in the throw, it becomes clear that I can't transpose philosophy's use of dice (or should i say one philopher's image) or is that the point (the object is the image of the man throwing the numbers? onto my own pre-conditions about intention, ontological as they may be, the balls need to be thrown to the same place every time  to be a juggler. So having established the disconnect in the juggling metaphor, i can now process through contingently to mind maps; maybe therre is a connection there? it seems clear already that READING is a key to the present conditions of thinking and learning as we find them. We have mentioned, more than mentioned Meillasoux's impact, and as HArman and others suggest, we deserve to be the recipients of the use of this new word, correlationism. So when it's obvious to an outside that the inside's thinking on this is subalterm difference enters in between the asked original questions and intentions, is to say: it's not for no reason that I threw out my Husseurl for a dialogue with Joyce's interior object, Derrida, where three Yesses were proclaimed with far more vocality and vociferousness than had been said before. When Joyce's objects became Derrida's voices, something had been implied at n minus 1 dimensions that had proceed as method in order to establish the multiple. {Robin Lovgren. Juggler. Posted this today from his summer 2009. The nice swimming pool catching my eye at first as much as the juggling itself. It's a timeley line of a post as yesterday it was announced that "Seven is the New FFive Ball" meaning, in juggler's Land anywway there has been a threshold leap. More of that later. But for now? It's just this video is so sharp, you can't not say something about it somewhere; as with all good things, it is always just a sort of surprise...when and where being moved to write happens. And as it just so happened that Graham's post this morning was precisely about this subject, it got me to thinking again. 4a.m thinking. January 2011, coming across this video. Titles. Thanks.

                 [cont]...  In a way, I'd rather be sleeping

[LATER}

These were then, as now, no more the mumblings of a variegated cow, or a weed (or should I say a mere weed amongst rhizomes) no, these were real thought processes at the time of that condition of Being, where, I was pleased to read, we were happy being what we were becoming, knowing that we were contingent upon being what we were not.


"thesis notes"......

Only much later did the question of reading arrive, coming as it did fast in the Wake of understanding how the brain prefers to learn: the power of Humanity's most effective learning mode (Buzan) not lost on Derrida, nor any of the previous conditions or intentions either were lost on language theory departments. Enter the Literary Condition and the advent of the new kindled book reader, and the questions seem greater to weigh in on the side of understanding learning and Reading, when these ojbjects are before us it is necessary to see that they exist. A you Tube Video, a Scribed text, a blog, a hard cover book, a walk in the park, a cup of tea, are all necessary Learning conditions that still need to be awakaned as the ontological precondition to learn. Here, Metzinger's narratie is more than apt a guide. The voice alone striking and metaphoric, writhing and rising in an absence of thought and ideas. Where is the phenomenal self Model? What is it when thought as an only inside of consciousness, where that inside thought by Steve Lehar and the model that fills the vomumetric gap with a perceived figure of form just imagines that it is there. this is the principle of higher learning and speed reading, maximised at this time by the technological synthesis of environemtn and thought as well as the the environment that has been coming into Being. This s why the maps are important at n+ dimensions (as the maps don't interfere with the method of n minus one dimensions, nor does juggling). The Portolan Maps are a merely "way in" to a sea of thinking about brains, maps and images we make of what we are thinking. More than once I have looked stunned at an emergent mind maps qualities, and seen the brain environment learning (the clouds) emerge in the dark night of a yesterday that turns out to be a contingent linearity,, as our experience merges into amodally perceived questions about time as we experience its fluctuations; absorption into the moment? or envisioned as the artist's descent into sdomething plastic, an alterior real of objects is implied, seen never and rarely felt, but implied to descend into (every ascent is really a descent, hoolds the MAyan Metaphpor of cloathing open, as indeed the rags of the aztecs have left us with a conundrum: could it be that the calenders were constructed but not seen? Was it possible that the preconstructive and bicameral environment (at the level of the seen and experienced) was so radically different then, as Jaynes propsed?) Were the pyramids built unconsciously? And what the hell have saturn and jupiter got to do with all  of this. Are they only metaphors for the juggler, as balls in the air, once so accurately thrown that they arrived, somehow into an eternally recurring trajectory where the five planets are juggled and the juggler moves so slowly in space that his rotation outlasts the ability of any one observer to see the actual roatation. What does actually happen when one lllaid turns to the other and says, Hey Hector? What about my strory? The last word on that, narratizatiion, as Jaynes says is that it is a feature of consciousness, that the Ancients didn't Narratize as such, still (I think) needs to be thought through, because as everyone surely now nows and knows now that that meeting Cortez had (and By! Cortez! I mean by that that full and complete assemblage that is ALL that CORTEZ was,is and still is to be proclaimed as metaphor par exapple, absolute noun, appender of all modifications, carrier of all tranlocative and nontranslocative nows to arrive at El Pasideo, or wherever the multiple organisms of landing arrived with its tentacles, networlds, kipping in its shutters round Olde new england later, only much later, swalling the entirety so copmpletely into another world , such that more language and letters had to be allowed to drop in, such was that intensity, that radical acceptance that YES we knew it wasn't necessary to have or make a new language into an order to say something new, but that it was a necessary radicalisation of creative contingency and being to accept that that had to happen at the level of the text; it just has to, it hasn't completed its genesis by a long shot (that is for sure) and it holds, absolutely, something radical and new as it had promised in nits origins, as Becket well knew, though would eventually think intself into Being what it actually is knowing that it was in its own Age of Dsicovery, all layers of every word added and calculated for overtones and double referents of accidental meanings where something, for real, can't be imagined (for any good purpose) any other way than what it actually is. As Graham says in the closing paragraphs and pages of Prince of Networks he writes, philosophyand none of it all, not even our thinking proceeds or is understood by only "arguments, proposition, explicit reference, tangible qualities." That once understood that the logical proof for this or that can't be given first (and needn't be) the way is cleared for us to render and rhetroic, and wouldn't that be celebrated by a few nt with us today to hear. Long live the multiple, for sure, is and was its rejoinder, and long live too, the propsed next staep, after the cleaqring of the five balls, to the introduction of two and the externalisation of mathmatics itself, the 5/7 as has been propsed. Sewn up for the juggler i the universe that doesn't catch but only throws.... and as we're not in that universe, but as we a re in this one where we proceed on principle that the catch takes care of itself, we have established therefore a universe that we are in where indeed it is possible to so accurately throw the dice repeatedly that it would and does (I think that's the most important thing) that it does actually come same number up every time; or right side up in a kind of top down qwarky kind of way, as I think my friend TMT would say. And because of that, I'll post this damn fine video again. 

It's not that Derrida is Wrong or Was Wrong

http://www.scribd.com/doc/35559811/Future-of-Hegel-Plasticity-Temporality-and-Dialectic-Derridahttp://dazhastings2012.blogspot.com/2011/01/background-assumptions-about-juggling.html

DAturn and Jupiter

BACKGROUND ASSUMPTIONS FOR THESE MIND MAPS... the story so far

1. That it IS a Tony Buzan-inspired "method.process.creation" philosophy of some sort (well established and verified hyperbolically or otherwise.

2. One word per line is best.

1.a. That € issues and © issues from Buzan.imindsoftware.

1b/ Words (mostly) courtesy: Harman, Morton and Jaynes are there to help me think through another subject (other than juggling); that is.... (not only the balls themselves and their use in a juggler's LEARNING) but something altogether more private to me: the nature of consciousness itself.

3. Established Theory of Learning and Speed Reading implied as Method.

BACKGROUND ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT JUGGLING

It's not that Derrida is Wrong or Was Wrong

I know it's more subtle than that; it was a turn made because no other turn could be thought at the time, until I think Meillassoux cracked it open. Whatever the first question of philosophy is, I find it hard to imagine gh not liking this 

warning: "Bedside Reading"

for the last couple of weeks I've had Ecology Without Nature near my head where I sleep; last night I didn't sleep at all (more about that in a minute) but before i attempted to sleep I replaced Ecology Without NAture with Speculative Realism. Both are beautiful books; I'm no Adorno but I do have an eye for aesthetics in books sometimes, although I'd taken the cover off Ecology Without NAture (a hardback) and dropped it on the floor (highly unreverential from a Buddhist point of view, but there you go--as most parents know, sometimes kids just don't pick things up, and as any cat owner is more than aware--it's actually preferential to not have things constantly tidied up. Now, let me first say this: my USUAL reading practice hardly ever involves sitting in bed, ever. It's clumsy, bourgoise and there's never enough space to move, write or think... i always end up getting up out of bed, so why bother? but as the subject is objects (!) I thought I'd enjoy some nocturnal osmosis and due to the restrictions of time-compression during "Christmas" some osmosis is better than no osmosis at all. After all, Ecology Without NAture is not an "easy" book. There's no lulling oneself off to sleep after tackling ecomimesis, rendering or the vast array of metaphors, allusions,, tropes, facts and argument that is contained it. And I ain't Latour either, so the only way for me to read these books (and I will clarify what I mean by read in a moment) is in the office, sometimes on  a couch, mostly standing up, with a highlighter in hand, or a pencil and some form of colour in poreparation for a subsequent event (ye creation of a mind map). Although I have produced a few mind maps already from Tim and Graham's other talks elswhere, they have been brief, fast and not thorough (but they look good). Anyway, as I said, last night in the bath I had finished my first cursory run through, highlighting of Ecology Without Nature and now it was Speculative Realism's turn, a mighty fine looking book from Zero, aesthetically pleasing in its own right and already (I'm sure) becoming synonymous with the timeness in which it has come into existence. But could I sleep? Hell, no. I'm not saying there's anything less at stake in Tim's book than in Graham's; far from it in fact, the argument that Romanticism still permeates thinking is strong and the argument for not "viewing" Nature as "view" or "aesthetic experience" equally strong, and several other strong arguments and thoughts that I'm not equipped yet to talk about pervade the text. No, it's definitely not my point to suggest any comparison; they are two books written for quite different reasons by two quite different people. No, that I could not sleep is the point. I mean, I did sleep but not in the usual fashion. It was restless. I was thinking in my dreams. Things were dialoging with me about the nature of Object Oriented Ontology. What had been released? What was releasing? What was I thinking? Or was it thinking me? I focussed in on the lampost across the road, seeing that I could walk up to it. Now it's not a lampost, it's a grey panel which can be opened, presumably to sort out the wires. Then I can pan back and it's a street. Oh so this is what the object is, consciousness can do that. I can move about spatially in my mind's eye. But this wasn't thinking, where is the object, the object is right in front of me, and yet its not, it's beside the bed isn't it? What would the third object be? (Christ, where's the first object?) Back to the lampost, which is off in the distance on a street corner at the top of the road (why that lampost?). But now it's a flat, grey panel again, and now it has curves. Is it the objects or consciousness that I am interested in? Some other thoughts flitted in and out throughout all of this very rough approximation of the NArratizing noise that accompanied six hours. I went to bed at ten, reading in dim light two pages of Speculative Realism (knowing I was fooling myself into or out of a post-bourgoise relationship to reading itself (soft, soothing tonic) a position I had long ago given up. In fact I'd almost entirely given up traditional reading methods in 2002... to replace that with then a new to me method of reading suggested by Tony Buzan. Of course Buzan's method is more of a suggestion than a rule, and so between 2002 and 2009 I experimented and gradually devised a new balance between input, reading, note taqking and making mind maps. Naturally the first flush was a form of ecstasy, in 2002 the IDEA that reading and memory could be both speeded up and more efficient was intoxicating and within five or six months I had proved this method to myself in such sufficient reason that I've never looked back since. I now almost never read in the traditional sense, page turning a novel or trying to understand. Morte of that later. I got out of bed, taking my time (sore back, cold, middle aged, post christmas flu, four a.m, dark urgh (awake again), coffee, putting Speculative Realism next to the sugar while I waited for the kettle to boil, thinking about that lampost and the now-awake realisation that I had had some form of an acoustic lucid dream. I don't know where I'd put Ecology Without NAture, ceertainly not on the bookshelf. The work was pleasantly piling up for the WInter term, I knew what mind maps would do to my reading of the book, so I made a compromise formation and instead tried to read it cover to cover. Well, that just made me feel thick with embarassment. It wasn't going to work that way. I'm making coffee running through all of this and the cat is staring at me. I'm excited really to begin the mind mapping of the books (Circus Philosphicus arrived two weeks ago) and Latour and Meillassoux wait in the wings: this all has to be put together. I know that. I'm not in it for the money (lolly). I'm not even in it for the argument. I know I'm in it because I havesniffed something really new; some sort of spicy arrangemnt of ideas would detract from what that new is. I know we all know that Harman and Meillassoux have cracked it open, and when I get round to it I am sure that crack will be more than clear  to me from Brassier, Ennis, Wolverhampton Lord Bristol Wanderers and Others who are Speculating the Turn at a break neck speed (yes, I downloaded the pdf.... and will buy it as well). I havn't been this excited to begin work since HUme woke me up one night after a bender with Immanuel, saying Marrtin had come over would I like to Husseurl it up a bit? (But that was a long time ago/or so I thought before when time wasn't just a feature of consciousness' spatializing itself--and that really is another stoory). The coffee, a rather cheap, instant and slightly disgusting variety made only palateable by decent milk and a breathtaking amount of the sugar, flowed. Pleasantly, the cat didn't pester me for food (is there anything more disgusting than the cat food smell?) at four in the morning I mean (not in extensis for all time in all places) and outside to my very own version of a Latour Hut (not nearly as large, more truthfull a hut than Latour's House) but warm and disconnected from the main house in what we call a garden near what we call a field opposite what we call trees, behind which are what we call more fields and the sea, across which it would be necessary to sail before reaching France and other environs about which Captain Cook knew too much. Graham's new post, the first thing I do in the morning now is read Harman's Latest, (on Ennis Jan 6 … People still can’t quite get used to the idea that individual things are anything other than square, middle-aged, traditionalistic, reactionary, folk-psychological, commonsensical, gullible fetishes of the everyday fool on the street. But they’re wrong, and they’ll gradually come to see that they’re wrong

) igniting my mind even further, yes we would all find out soon enough that that this isn't that bench that we thought was the total question, as I'm not the subject I thought myself to be; because in the occasion of me reading the lampost, between the cat and the book and all of NAture (raining down) filling the mud banks with water juice, objectifying itself in blog land to mind's idea of what is happening in the specualtive turn itself agreeing that the turn it had made, the turn made from the past where Derrida had sat, was a wrong turn and that the U turn had to me to be made as a bed is remade; that was what was in the lampost, behind that plate which I in fact did not untighten or look in but into which I had projected and could see (and can still see ) wires.