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Our societal advancements are not close to keeping pace with our technological advancements — Gil Scott-Heron – Whitey On the Moon

*

As late as July 1921 the “New York Times” was calling it wireless telephony, and wireless remained widespread until World War II, when military preference for radio established it as the word.… radio (n.)

Chaque artiste semble ainsi comme le citoyen d’une patrie inconnue, oubliée de lui-même, différente de celle d’où viendra, appareillant pour la terre, un autre grand artiste. ***

and “We are the tongues into Being” is absurdly supposed, and “We are The Tongues and Tongs of God,” is absurdly thought…Opening Wrong Cabinet

What do we know of the experience of being ignorant, of how it feels? We know of the experience of being ignorant that it resembles closely the feeling of thinking one knows, the feeling, indeed, of being omniscient. (Perhaps even the numbness of total unknowing is a sort of presumption of knowledge… Would we go so far as to say that that person whom we deem most ignorant feels himself to be most omniscient?)

Does the feeling of (actually) knowing differ in any way (in many ways?) from the feeling of incorrectly thinking one knows? In the way we just said, yes, ignorance is a far more sweeping feeling of knowing, of knowing all, than actual knowing. The person who thinks he knows more than he does thinks also that knowing is more than it is. (Perhaps: real knowing isn’t a “feeling” at all while thinking one knows is. And yet knowing, whether correct or incorrect, can often be accompanied by a feeling of victory.)

Additionally, although those who know tend to be guarded and cautious about the things they know, there is one thing which, through experience, they have come to know with confidence and certainty: and that is the misconceptions of those who only think they know. (That is, experts know very well the errors of amateurs and students of their field.) These — the misconceptions — the knowers may know even better than the thing they hope to know about, we suggest.

4.38 / trans.
καὶ ὅκου ἔνι τοῦ σώματος ἱδρὼς, ἐνταῦθα φράζει τὴν νοῦσον.

Tracking Tax Runaways ; Apollinaire recite le pont Mirabeau ; Literature is against us (int. anne Boyer); saving electricity / air conditioning; Electrons and their Interactions — Richard Feynman ; ETRUSCAN ENGINEERING & AGRICULTURAL ACHIEVEMENTS ; Kurtis Blow – Basketball ; What we’re doing to the Earth has no parallel in 66 million years … [POST]

A ‘mad monologue’: he is –a conspiracy theorist or paranoid– he thinks that historical events (he concentrates on 9/11 but knows a few you haven’t heard of) are conspiracies to keep us from thinking of our personal lives, that all history has been invented to keep us from thinking about ourselves.

Why can’t we think about ourselves, he wants to know? The world movers don’t want me to contemplate me so they dream up and orchestrate these extraordinary “historical” things that supposedly happen to us. And they don’t care what history is just so long as it’s got “big events”.( They know what would happen were people ever to “know themselves” and they know that under those conditions there certainly wouldn’t be any “history”.)

Child with mother behind, rushing toward street.

Three couples with dogs, each with very big dogs.

Mother and daughter returning from memorial day celebration — mother, head down, pushing crib up the steep hill. Daughter, smiling to herself, head to one side.

Wanted to call them “Elleman turns” (U Turn) a sedan and service truck in synchronicity.

Bird propelling itself with wings just enough to get over the fence; having passed that mark, let herself flop.

Ethiopian gal asking directions to DMV (Day — um- vay) with umbrella for the strong sun.

Couple crossing, as I cross, — do I go between them as my trajectory and a sense of symmetry suggests, or instead be obedient to a vague social principle?

The idea is not that “everything I think is wrong” but that “everything I think is wildly wrong” (that the area of what I think does not, perhaps will not, intersect the area of what is the case)

Like two feet: a white van in the right lane accelerating then gliding forward, followed by a yellow school bus, a heavy step on the gas, then gliding by the white service van.

Just passed by a woman jogger — expect as she passes to breathe in her perfume– but at that moment I become enclosed in a block of aroma from a different source: laundry is being done in nearby home; strong scent of Bounce or similar product.

Area between the cuff of the electrician’s pants and the sole of his shoe, the brown curving part of the heel, or back, carved out by the grey end of the pant leg.

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“Herzog wrote letters to order his thoughts; Bellow wrote a book, the one you are reading”… Article touches on a number issues for me. First of all, a perplexity about the various levels of text that occur in Herzog (which I somewhat addressed in a fictional context here: substitute “tweet” for “jot”), but also the idea that I’ve had about Markson’s This Is Not A Novel that it is most comparable to a Twitter feed — that it really is not a novel, and perhaps not even an artwork, because unlike Herzog, there isn’t a context provided for the “tweet.” (The context of This Is Not A Novel, such as it is, is that there is this real person, David Markson, who is an artful, knowledgeable person tweeting.) Finally there is the idea that Bellow was being unfair in Herzog, giving a highly subjective account of a real autobiographical episode of his life. Though I couldn’t say why, I wonder if that kind of unfairness is demanded by a novel, while the opposite is demanded by tweeting and social media — because after all, that is really us in social media, and most of us like to be regarded as being fair; and, too, whether we have been fair or not is rather more verifiable in social media than in fiction.

J’ouvris largement la bouche, et mes poumons se saturèrent de fraîches molécules.

John 1, 47-51.

ειδεν ο Ιησους τον Ναθαναηλ ερχομενον προς αυτον και λεγει περι αυτου, Ιδε αληθως Ισραηλιτης εν ω δολος ουκ εστιν. λεγει αυτω Ναθαναηλ, Ποθεν με γινωσκεις; απεκριθη Ιησους και ειπεν αυτω, Προ του σε Φιλιππον φωνησαι οντα υπο την συκηην ειδον σε. απεκριθη αυτω Ναθαναηλ. Ραββι, συ ει ο υιος του θεου, συ βασιλευς ει του Ισραηλ. απεκριθη Ιησους και ειπεν αυτω, Οτι ειπον σοι οτι ειδον σε υποκατω της συκης πιστευεις; μειζω τουτων οψη.

Jesus saw Nathan came toward him and said of him, Behold, truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit. Nathan said to him, How do you know me? Jesus answered and said to him, [I saw you earlier when Phillip addressed you under the fig tree.] Nathan answered him, Rabbi, you are the son of god, you are the king of Israel. Jesus answered and said to him, because I told you I saw you under the fig tree you believe? You will see things greater than this.

idea to use deep sea aquatic life as the inspiration for my “shapes”

… τὴν μὲν γὰρ πόλιν πεποίηκεν ἀχρήματον, τοὺς δ᾽ ἰδιώτας φιλοχρημάτους. “for he has made his city poor and his citizens greedy.” (Aristot. Pol. 2.1271b)

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Reading this passage from L’Education Sentimentale I started thinking of Dylan and of particularly Desolation Row:

Perched on the piano stool, the only place where her wings allowed her to sit, the Angel was placidly munching away without a pause.// ‘What an appetite!’ the choirboy said wonderingly ‘What an appetite!’ // The Spinx was drinking brandy, shouting at the top of her voice and flinging herself about like a madwoman

The Sphinx was drinking brandy shouting at the top of her voice, I could particularly see as a line in that song.

All these people that you mention, yes, I know them, they’re quite lame / I had to rearrange their faces and give them all another name

I think Desolation Row is about — the singer responding to a letter he has received asking about the condition of mutual acquaintances.

the resistance to remembering one’s day –one is too tired to remember one’s day — or is that tiredness a built up resistance to remembering — is that tiredness the built up failure to have ever perceived or experienced that day to begin with–? a built up resistance to experiencing? the residue of un-experienced time? Because you blenched in the face of, and were afraid to, experience, you now feel too tired and you don’t quite recall (It’s annoying, it’s unnecessary, what happened at school, nothing happened at school) You don’t remember because you regret in short. (To be asked, would we have remembered everything if we hadn’t regretted most of it?)

*

If (1) the “modern period” could be said to extend from the beginning of the agricultural revolution (10, 15 thousand years ago?) to now ; and if (2) we may say that this same period has been notable for its lack of change (not for its lack of progress merely but even of change), that really nothing at all of the slightest note has occurred during this time relative to the periods that precede and will follow it; then (a) what must “change” really be, and (b) what sort of change might we eventually expect? [Issues surrounding a history which is not mere science yet doesn’t include human history in it.]

A meteorological journal of the mind.. thoreau, isola