Today's lovely update.
Oct. 8th, 2010 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
digital_snowflakeI bloody loathe furries today. Not any single person in particular, merely a loathing for the entire bag of neurotic behaviors and impropriety that likes to address itself as the archetype of the furry fandom.
So, I admit, I'm a little bored. I've been writing and getting work done solely because I hate everyone recently, and the normal levels of stupidity that would just blow over me harmlessly are pushing the buttons in my head that make me want to engage in wholesale wanton slaughter. This is, of course, hyperbole, but regardless, it's still seriously annoying me.
Honestly, in part it's because I'm thoroughly disconnected from furries at this point in my life. I don't attend furry events, and my only regular contact with anything 'furry' in person is Chris whose connection to it is entirely image-based, these days. Our friends are all fairly successful geeks (married, with jobs, the whole in-their-thirties thing). I'm more busy with working on writing these days to actually spend much significant time on furry networks, and when I do, I'm left with this sincere feeling of disappointment that they're all so very shallow.
Granted, this could be simply because that's all they're showing, because, lo and behold, social networks, and one in particular that rewards straightforwardness and a lack of ambiguity. It's only causal that this would result in a populace which is permanently straightforward and seemingly shallow when dealing with other people. Even so, I'm so very bored with shallow.
Of course, there's a bunch of people-things that I'm bored with of late. The reflexive no, the inability to think through situations, the various concept-links that populate the popular ideological matrix--I don't really have a good term for this offhand; it's whatever you'd call the shared set of ideas that enable and allow people to communicate and have things mean the same things. I don't doubt that it's useful, and my point taken to extremes would be so much "Chicken", but sometimes the concept-links that associate certain ideas are just so faulty as to make me want to cry. Especially in politics.
I've been reading Transmetropolitan again. Bear with this diversion; it's somewhat related. I found myself marveling today at a panel in the first book, in which Jerusalem makes a single-panel reference to the bicameral mind, something I'd missed in previous readings. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.
Went back to something I hadn't realized I'd missed. Spent most of last night--hours of it--just working out stories in my head. Scenes, just playing with my imagination and seeing how things would work out. It's an important part of trying to get things written for me, of seeing how they play out instead of simply writing the outline. It tells me how the world works for them, how they respond, what they feel and what happens next.
I should get out more. There are things to remember; of watching cherry blossoms fall like ash, caught in the wind and pressed against the dank grey sky of autumn in Seattle. Memories of gangers sitting and waiting, of hookers flashing potential johns, of petty criminals and more upstanding ones. Of cigarettes abandoned before their time, of people standing on the street with signs asking for money, providing reasons why they should get it in preference to the next one over. Of the madness of people wandering the streets, sleeping in doorways and bringing their devout message to anyone who'll listen. Of people trying so very hard to make a buck without begging, busking on the street using the most absurd of skills.
These are the important things; these are the things which piss me off to no small end. These are the things that need to be remembered because they are the things that remind us that not everything is sweetness and light. Sure, they're sitting on the very bottom of the population probability curve. So what?
Trying to find a way to make all of this sit together cohesively. Everything's all fucked up, so fucked up, and it's all because of how we're wired, how we think, how we're built on such a fundamental nature that change isn't possible given the current situation. The flaws of society aren't simple; they're restrictions built into our brains that we can spend all of our lives trying to overcome, because we can't look outside and see it all. Because we're not designed to.
Posthuman? The word is accurate, but the idea is corrupt, debased, linked to so many different things now that it might as well mean the same thing as dogshit. I get it, now. It means getting over the little flaws in our neurology that make it so that we think that our success is ours, our failures belong to others, and that the guy on the street deserves his punishment as much as the man down the street deserves his millions.
This isn't a declaration against the rich. Far from it; ideas such as 'deserve' aren't integrated into this yet by me. You get what you get. Deserve implies an order, a system, a way things ought to be, implicit and levied by whatever measure of fate you ascribe to.
I haven't any more to say tonight. These are my thoughts; whatever they may be.
So, I admit, I'm a little bored. I've been writing and getting work done solely because I hate everyone recently, and the normal levels of stupidity that would just blow over me harmlessly are pushing the buttons in my head that make me want to engage in wholesale wanton slaughter. This is, of course, hyperbole, but regardless, it's still seriously annoying me.
Honestly, in part it's because I'm thoroughly disconnected from furries at this point in my life. I don't attend furry events, and my only regular contact with anything 'furry' in person is Chris whose connection to it is entirely image-based, these days. Our friends are all fairly successful geeks (married, with jobs, the whole in-their-thirties thing). I'm more busy with working on writing these days to actually spend much significant time on furry networks, and when I do, I'm left with this sincere feeling of disappointment that they're all so very shallow.
Granted, this could be simply because that's all they're showing, because, lo and behold, social networks, and one in particular that rewards straightforwardness and a lack of ambiguity. It's only causal that this would result in a populace which is permanently straightforward and seemingly shallow when dealing with other people. Even so, I'm so very bored with shallow.
Of course, there's a bunch of people-things that I'm bored with of late. The reflexive no, the inability to think through situations, the various concept-links that populate the popular ideological matrix--I don't really have a good term for this offhand; it's whatever you'd call the shared set of ideas that enable and allow people to communicate and have things mean the same things. I don't doubt that it's useful, and my point taken to extremes would be so much "Chicken", but sometimes the concept-links that associate certain ideas are just so faulty as to make me want to cry. Especially in politics.
I've been reading Transmetropolitan again. Bear with this diversion; it's somewhat related. I found myself marveling today at a panel in the first book, in which Jerusalem makes a single-panel reference to the bicameral mind, something I'd missed in previous readings. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.
Went back to something I hadn't realized I'd missed. Spent most of last night--hours of it--just working out stories in my head. Scenes, just playing with my imagination and seeing how things would work out. It's an important part of trying to get things written for me, of seeing how they play out instead of simply writing the outline. It tells me how the world works for them, how they respond, what they feel and what happens next.
I should get out more. There are things to remember; of watching cherry blossoms fall like ash, caught in the wind and pressed against the dank grey sky of autumn in Seattle. Memories of gangers sitting and waiting, of hookers flashing potential johns, of petty criminals and more upstanding ones. Of cigarettes abandoned before their time, of people standing on the street with signs asking for money, providing reasons why they should get it in preference to the next one over. Of the madness of people wandering the streets, sleeping in doorways and bringing their devout message to anyone who'll listen. Of people trying so very hard to make a buck without begging, busking on the street using the most absurd of skills.
These are the important things; these are the things which piss me off to no small end. These are the things that need to be remembered because they are the things that remind us that not everything is sweetness and light. Sure, they're sitting on the very bottom of the population probability curve. So what?
Trying to find a way to make all of this sit together cohesively. Everything's all fucked up, so fucked up, and it's all because of how we're wired, how we think, how we're built on such a fundamental nature that change isn't possible given the current situation. The flaws of society aren't simple; they're restrictions built into our brains that we can spend all of our lives trying to overcome, because we can't look outside and see it all. Because we're not designed to.
Posthuman? The word is accurate, but the idea is corrupt, debased, linked to so many different things now that it might as well mean the same thing as dogshit. I get it, now. It means getting over the little flaws in our neurology that make it so that we think that our success is ours, our failures belong to others, and that the guy on the street deserves his punishment as much as the man down the street deserves his millions.
This isn't a declaration against the rich. Far from it; ideas such as 'deserve' aren't integrated into this yet by me. You get what you get. Deserve implies an order, a system, a way things ought to be, implicit and levied by whatever measure of fate you ascribe to.
I haven't any more to say tonight. These are my thoughts; whatever they may be.
