Things I Roll My Weed On

'But look,' said Ponder, 'the graveyards are full of people who rushed in bravely but unwisely.' 'Ook.' 'What did he say?' said the Bursar. 'I think he said, "Sooner or later the graveyards are full of everybody".'

Matter matters. Things (light, networks, economies, rocks, paint, pixels) have their own agency. Things are already in the world, in dialogue with the world, forming and being formed by other things in the world. Indeed, according to Heidegger, things in relationship with other things make up ‘the world’. No things; no ‘world’. Things don’t consciously ‘know stuff’ about the world, but... things behave in ways derived from their history in the world and from their current entanglements with the world. Things are caught up in the world (of other things), and the world is caught up in things.

“He’s insane!”  Run the test: is he unable to understand that what he is doing is wrong? No.  Is he unable to control himself? No– he covers his tracks and waits for opportunities.  Is he suffering from a mental disorder that impairs his reason?  No.  This is a sane man who was allowed and then allowed himself to pursue and indulge in desires which, admittedly, are whacked, under the premise that they are innate and going to come out eventually. "

...that amazing city of alchemists and poets, mechanics and astronomers, philosophers and physicians, the heart of the only civilization in Middle-earth to bet on rational knowledge and bravely pitch its barely adolescent technology against ancient magic. The shining tower of the Barad-dûr citadel rose over the plains of Mordor almost as high as Orodruin like a monument to Man – free Man who had politely but firmly declined the guardianship of the Dwellers on High and started living by his own reason. It was a challenge to the bone-headed aggressive West, which was still picking lice in its log ‘castles’ to the monotonous chanting of scalds extolling the wonders of never-existing Númenor.

At 4:20 we pull a little from the tight joint I keep behind your ear. You do not inhale.  

Pornography is, and it is, a deeply conservative genre. It's not a genre where everything is permitted. It's a genre base don a fundamental prohibition. We cross one threshold, you can see everything, close ups and so on, but the price you pay for it is that the narrative with justifies sexual activity should not be taken seriously. The screenwriters for pornography cannot be so stupid. You know, these vulgar narratives of a housewife alone at home, a plumber comes, fixes the hole, then the housewife turns to him, 'Sorry, but I have another hold to be fixed. Can you do it?' or whatever. Obviously there is some kind of a censorship here. You have either an emotionally engaging film, but then you should stop bust before showing it all, sexual act, or you can see it all but you are now allowed then to be emotionally seriously engaged. So that's the tragedy of pornography.   

The interesting thing about addictions-- include gambling and sex and internet and "dangerous behaviors" and whatever else you want-- is that they all share something in common.  Allegedly this thing is dopaminergic pathways to the striatum and etc, but saying that gets you nothing.  It's astounding that the layperson chooses to think in these terms which though they are true are utterly meaningless, utterly unactionable, until you remember, oh, of course, in narcissism believing something is preferable to doing something because the former is about you and the latter is about everyone else. Slightly off topic but here's an important example: say you yell every day at an/your eight year old girl for sloppy homework, admittedly a terrible thing to do but not uncommon, and eventually she thinks, "I'm terrible at everything" and gives up, so the standard interpretation of this is that she has lost self-confidence, she's been demoralized, and case by case you may be right, but there's another possibility which you should consider: shechooses to focus on "I'm terrible at everything" so that she can give up.  "If I agree to hate myself I only need a 60?  I'll be done in 10 minutes. "  

I will remember your small room the feel of you  the light in the window  your records  your books  our morning coffee  our noons our nights  our bodies spilled together  sleeping  the tiny flowing currents  immediate and forever  your leg my leg  your arm my arm  your smile and the warmth  of you  who made me laugh  again.