Titanomachy Comes Around to Reconstructing Carpetbags

Teleology's an anticipation of a pay-off. A free expression doesn't need ulterior motive, sometimes just a great big perturbation. There's nothing more abusive than a truth that's not elusive. Should you catch it take a rest and liquid else yer cursed so go to hell or somewhere even more insipid.

It's said the gods themselves were one-time titans, and then they got religion when mighty titan force was no longer sufficient to sustain the realty of kingly or more philistine estates from invasions or assassinations; when habit proved too fickle as the new invaders were oft' the miss-content of what was formerly an outward trickle, "good form or good riddance!" no longer suitable, the Truth was invented: what cropped up now and then was henceforth to be a universal. Of necessity were there priest-kings, then on Egypt's fine example, realigned into religion and after many corpses came the all infallible, The Reason, good for use in any season.

Good reasons always need a partner, so our Hegel once had said. Synthesis is fabrication, a structure placed upon the dead. Before offing old Goliath, young Prince Dave was prob'ly no more an itinerant goat-herder than the giant, Honest Abe had been a logger (he was a lawyer), but since the Yellow Emperor, history's written as an epitaph a'top some speechless heads, but only by the conqueror after vanquishing the Rebs.

As a means to classify (with the singular criterion) now by nature folks divided along lines of status, race and gender, impiety and treason or for any handy reason. Such was Greek democracy (and someone, always trickling upward, both works and pays and to this day, to prey and pray sound just the same – it's sequestration mixed up with well-timed negotiations). With new smarts and realizing the error of their old ways, it hadn't after all been war which needs defeated, but peace in any season – what stays inside is justified, without is bad, none could deny – enclosure laws and prison walls are for our own good, and that's always been the greater, inner peace now means "security", or what's in or done for, favour. Whatever's in the basket, it's the same – protection racket. There's always risk. Sometimes it is a bomb, sometimes you miss.

Railroad trains and freeways only interfaced equivalent absurdities, the illusion you can freely move to new and different prisons, I mean cities. Once the righteous good, now it's the baddies hiding 'neath a hood or up against a wall with red and blues a'flashing, crashing through them. It's all the same, and every time it comes around it's different. It was war that birthed the structures, made them all rigid and regal, kept them straight and narrow, lines a'crossing space as if a symbol forever thing eternal (but that's internal "aye's" as in "Because I said so"), and not to lose the point, the arrowhead's a reminder of our history and grammarists use it to control the meaning which is "generate": for every child the question's "Why?" – before a corpse of course it looks like this ––> and then the X, the spot of all degeneration.

As rows and columns preceded all accountants, suits and pigs, so now they've come around again back to the tried and true, the lethal, proving only that a straight line can come back on itself like a spiral made of squares. But it's all illusion: the space had bent at right angles so no one really lost their place (a swerve depends on curves), and pretty soon we all can live in the big outdoors of outer space, that is, when we can alter it, conform to our position which has always been the goal in any race for new material. There's no going back, all else has been forgotten – high or low, for all it was for bidding, like once upon a time they only meant "for having" and "for asking". The most important word 'twas lost was "smithereens": what happens to all multifarious union is corruption, that certain dissolution of controllers of the mean or what's in fashion.

Today's Mythic narrative was called The Idiocracy, and everyone believes it might just be the last to be. Controllers have departed 'cross the cryptic overseas (it may be near Miami) and Dunderheads, that race of con-patrols and the richest you will see, the one-time petty burgeoisie've been left no reins for which to hold or lead, they've gone quite raving and unstable, and all that will remain may soon be called The Uncontrollables. But there's still hope for rectal types to get up, wipe their ass, regain their youth, to dig out with a hook or ladder, perseverate along the lines of truth, which now we know is just construction work and for some others, letting loose your bladder.

Or not. It's probable at some point anything can rot except the truth, for that's impossible as there's no more points beyond this dot.

– Carreck Hoursabhorus

THE VOGOS, of TAU or DEATH

Myth-time is the shaky ground lurking under every truth or calculation. No realm, nor a union, nor reality, a timeless landscape stripped of corpuscles of distance and sequentiality, but occasionally brimming with history. And it comes in all shades of paisley 'cause it's birthed free of a boundary (or at least one it easily sheds like placentas or hard-boiled eggs). The Stewart Principle which proclaims "Every picture tells a story, don't it" (and like a coin or Etruscan mirror, always has another side) is modified by Bergson's durative simultaneity or Butler's reversability of the chicken-egg argument such that every "story is a picture, ain't it" and the quantification which came first is irrelevant to the polyvagus swimming with Mr. Graymatter, who had more in mind the spokesman, Polybius who forgot that betwixt and between every floater and sinker is no more ambiguous than all things amphibious – it's just indeterminate and risky.

– Rodney King

Might I go so far as to suggest that, though they are equivalent in sense, there is received a difference altogether when we hear that "myth-time is non-euclidean space" and its inversion, "when we hear the phrase, non-euclidean space-time, what is meant is myth-time" and that sort of myth is not the fiction that's the classical physics of Richard M. Nixon. As the old Tibetan saying goes, "A" is not "A", therefore we name it "A".

With such logic, and if what we call space were a multidimensionally woven fabric (so to speak), even a paisley tapestry in dark undulation like waves flowing beneath a stationary boat, such that the directional movement of either is an illusion, the measurement of motion a misunderstanding of the intensity of the wave inducing a bounce on all the water that touches it or inversely, is mimicked by them

– in rough seas there's no telling an original pebble perturbing the water just to make waves or rings of concentricity – there is no pebble so its search is what's known as contingent futility – unless there's a port-hole or index to elsewhere (all that which representation excludes) . . .and whose own undulation flows to the shore yet the water has not moved except in relation to the land beneath it as the tides from the moon, like a long, distant lover, which distracted and thereby displaced it, or if in a tub it goes down the drain whilst the floating scum doesn't, and if to this we suggested the no-thingness which is not paisley fabric is the ultimate, par excellent brightness, the infinite everything from which was spun the fibres that weaved the tapestry, "moving" its spirals in every direction whilst going nowhere, (the bisected yinyang is only a leaf on a mango tree), then the most obvious excuse for the stars would be holes in the fabric letting the light through.

We're talking about the inversion of perspective which makes the standard line or come-on, previously important, presently impotent. We're also talking Lewis Carroll's looking glass world with which the same "reason" can apply to both, even the same measuring implements for the spatially insecure, but no direct translation is possible. Each seems fit as a straight jacket for the other. The formula, "A is not A so we call it A" portrays a metaphoric relation, so there is no room for tit-for-tat representation (neither in 'art' nor 'marriage'); at most, conjugation's an orbit, not a property exchange where speed has no bearing on an incurred debt, unless there's a recurring pebble coming your way set on eating out your liver.

[Where I come from, the coin in the mouth or two on the eyes of any corpse but the ones you despise is no payment to an imaginary gondola operator, but has engraved a picture from popular stories depicting a portal or literally porthole out of this world and back in through another. Without such a navigational guide known to work for the living – better even than a lucky charm – it is thought the ferry'd get lost and then foundered. There's also the added advantage in the coin's weight and opacity which prevent distraction by rambling tongues and wandering eyes: It's both a blinder and pacifyer. It's the same logic which enables one sea-monster, swimming through interconnected underground streamlets to appear in any lake or wide spot in the river East of the Cascade Mountains known for bringing bad weather and make a local appearance at a moments notice, and likewise, the local ones do the same in inverted fashion.]

In mythic discourse, there is no economic transaction nor a need for justification to discredit the other, so the question of a reality or truth lying beneath the metaphor or symbolism just doesn't need to come up, and if it did, it'd be like trying to squeeze your ass through one of those tiny holes in the sky to put more light on the subject. That could only result in death, a cosmic boil or a great constipation. Either way, should it fester, one might expect a big bang. Instead of the Logos some gray matter orbits, the paisley is vague but sensed through the vagus and its unfashionable polysemous name is The Vogos, where head-on collisions result not in death but some transformation or for the more dense or gnostic, knocking your lights out is like plugging a hole:

< vogue (n): 1570s, the vogue, "leading place in popularity, greatest success or acceptance," from Middle French vogue "fashion, success, drift, swaying motion (of a boat)" literally "a rowing," from Old French voguer "to row, sway, set sail," probably from Old Low German *wogon, variant of wagon "float, fluctuate," literally "to balance oneself" (see weigh). Apparently the notion is of being "borne along on the waves of fashion." Italian vogare also probably is borrowed from Germanic. Phrase in vogue "having a prominent place in popular fashion" first recorded 1643.

and from which we get Witch, (like Roma's to roam and rough is to rogues, a wand'ring relation before time was in fashion and Keruac's boat was a station wagon):

weigh (v.): Old English wegan "find the weight of, have weight, lift, carry," from Proto-Germanic *weganan (cf. Old Saxon wegan, Old Frisian wega, Dutch wegen "to weigh," Old Norse vega, Old High German wegan "to move, carry, weigh," German wiegen "to weigh"), from PIE *wegh- "to move" (cf. Sanskrit vahati "carries, conveys," vahitram "vessel, ship;" Avestan vazaiti "he leads, draws;" Greek okhos "carriage;" Latin vehere "to carry, convey;" Old Church Slavonic vesti "to carry, convey;" Lithuanian vezu "to carry, convey;" Old Irish fecht "campaign, journey"). The original sense was of motion, which led to that of lifting, then to that of "measure the weight of." The older sense of "lift, carry" survives in the nautical phrase weigh anchor. Figurative sense of "to consider, ponder" (in reference to words, etc.) is recorded from mid-14c.

– etymonline.com

– The full treatment

Understanding may be over(alter)ated:

Capitalism, if it is truly the condition of our existence, cannot be known. We may hope at best, if we are successful in hoping, that it may become wholly unknown...That is not to say that knowledge ought not take a scientific or objective turn, only that this serves no transformational purpose.

– Going to seed

Class consciousness is not the possessed truth of objects (or classes of them) by subjects (or vice versa). It's not even merely a perspective or variable of approach (ie., a 'theory'), but an extended perceptual horizon illustrating that wealthy leaders' very existence hangs upon the exclusion, misery, exploitation or extraction, in other words, the subjection of others. It's a matter of environmental awareness, even compassion should one be carried by experience or by the tales of those who are themselves so carried.

Subjectivity and objectivity are universally meaningless or they are interchangeable. For any detection, the object in hand is said to be data (circuitously defined as 'that which is subject to handling or sensory engagement and manipulation'). Like a bird, it may be the subject of inquiry or merely an obstacle to be tossed aside, in which case, the "real" data remains unknown or, like an undrilled oil well, is yet to be groped – it may be nothing. The object which is subjected to handling is the subject, whether the experiment or investigation is of things or set upon processes. Very often, like in psychological experimentation, a subject means "a live one", but then where does one place school subjects like history, math or grammar except as more real than students? It's all a matter of where you place your exponent.

Value as such, smooth or rough is the subjective experience of the handler of objects, and whose objective is manipulation (literally, 'fingering figures') or an intermediate stage in quite another purpose. This mediation is what we mean by exploitation – the ownership of the means:

"He who controls meaning controls the world"

– Old Man's Tale

Where there is damage to the subject, object or process by the processing of data, the subjective experience is misery from one perspective and pragmatics from the other. It is the basis of (or it lurks under) capitalism, and is justified as "natural" when compared to eating and "neutral" when compared to art. On the other hand, it clearly rhymes with cannibalism, a rarity in nature and typically frowned upon as it is the last stage of any class or species prior to extinction. The rhyme may be chance but the equivalence it portends is not lost on either "side": From the perspective of the leader-eaters (gods), the eaten has always been classed as overwhelmingly other – meat, receptacle or "natural resource". On the brunt of such semantic transformation, one is said to be "objectified", made the equivalent of an inanimate object.

"The Regnorak in Nordic myth-time is the last battle of each against all. Not a single god survived, but some folks did who'd left for the hills or rowed a boat back into mother, eons before or timely, when the shitaree had turned to fire."

– Old Woman's Tale

When there is death or destruction to the subject, object or process by the mining or processing of data, the subjective experience of onlookers from any one perspective (even when pragmatic or utilitarian from another) is war or rape so it, pragmatism, is clearly no universal justification for anything. In the same way, transgression is merely a cross-wise movement on the one hand but no mere "struggle" in the context of war. And like christianity, capitalism cannot thrive unless all of nature other than the immediate subject (the Cartesian ego) is considered a collection of obstacles or otherwise hostile. This is the basis of both Hobbesian and Cartesian (or narcissistic) philosophies and their infinitely recursive cogitations.

The ratios, misery to struggle and war to death, are equivalent. Such is mathematic or objective value in contradistinction to subjective experience. Money is merely it's medium of exchange creating the value-form or commodity. All such exchange cancels experiential value like an electrical shunt to ground, where justice becomes a euphemism for the inability to tell shit from shinola, leaving one always in need of expert opinion. When ensconced in the midst of hostility, value must always come from elsewhere.

One of the illustrations as well as problems with understanding is its method-as-destination, 'going to ground'. This is both the discovery and formation of the subject (thinking, therefore amming), and as integrity demands a line, position or a stand, one is now subject to all the vagaries of nature, be they kind or cruel. The subject position must therefore always come from the ground of slavery or other such stasis. Neither form of immobility has been uncovered by archaeologists digging for first principles. Going to ground with high expectations, one goes nowhere but under or atop a dungheap or other similarly constructed midden. It is home only to the excluded middle and lost art.

To de-fence requires wire-cutters; o'r-fence is a leap or a climb. Either destruction or transcendence demonstrates a will to distributivity, not the content stasis of being, even for more seedy types. Life is becoming and cannot be said to be mimicked by art, which coldly produces beings – still life – although at times, they may signal a favorable movement, just like a biohazard sign stuck in the ground can be a source of moving inspiration. Of course a sign in it's navigational sense and a gesture in any sense are rarely taken as representative. They invite or discourage.

It's not even the other way around, except when life and art are seen as synonyms – one theatre merely mimicking another with no sense of representation and only in this sense it can be said to be reproductive, but not of identities such as the cloning operations along any assembly line, be it academic or industrial. A better word would be "generative", since what is produced is always difference. It may merely be the play of otherness. Why then, asked Roger Caillois, wouldn't a moth disappear into the bark of a tree even when there is no wasp giving chase? Certainly not always the errors of paranoia! That itself may be the stand from the paranoia of eros, and quite unbecoming at that.

If the subject is the seed, the fragrance of tomorrow's lilac bush is irrelevant. Any modification of perspective transforms the subject into object. Any third position does the same regarding the other two. First, second and third are therefore equivalent and interchangeable, and even trialectics decomposes. The problem, of course, is the logo, lect or ligature misunderstood as the landscape or territory rather than the simulation, snapshot or map that they are.

One may merge with any traffic, but there are always off-ramps – a moth has wings (with or without cammo) – even if the exit is through the guard-rail, and without the security of a seat-belt, there's a chance one will be thrown from the vehicle before the fuel tank explodes on the rocks below. In either case, the lay-off may be no gentler than a certain resignation. To move or be moved is often the question, but what difference if the destination is the same?

Understanding's destination is truth, a stoppage or turning point. Nominalism only comes up with lists of names, jargon and talking points – the basis of applied journalism. Equipped therewith, one establishes leadership, only practical when there abound barbarians, unbelievers and heretics. The 'lazy' follower is part and parcel of that leadership, having the same intention, a delegation or relegation of "will" (or "perception", in the sense Aldous Huxley used it) in the interest of conservation ( – see 'blinders'), so presents no antagonistic distinction in the same way that the head and tail of an ass present no zoological contradiction so are never expected to transgress, much less revolt one over the other.

Without truth, morality disappears and without that hobgoblin, war and antagonism are meaningless outside the context of eating and being eaten, and whose result is still a mutual merger, a transformation on both counts. Like integrity and consistency, we should not confuse consciousness or awareness (even coupled to the memory of familiar sequences or patterns) with knowledge or truth. Only the former are provisional, and as Einstein warned, without an arrival and departure point, speed is irrelevant and time itself is always relative to one or another's standing still. Hegel gave us the dialectic, but Charles Fort corrected it with the hyphen. To wit, master-slave and slave-master are identical according to the principle of reversibility. This principle only states that if something appears uni-directionally linear like a geometrist's straight lines in empty space, there is somewhere an error in judgment or need for an optometrist. Even a crow doesn't fly as the crow flies; sometimes we just confuse one thing for the other when what it is – is no equivocation, it's just one-another, oui?.

Without the objectivity of the nominalists (or environmental vivisectionists), barbarians, unbelievers and heretics are just folks, unless, of course, they're also run-aways. But what's in a name? Clearly the manipulation of language is no justification, much less rationale for anything. Sometimes it's just fun. Altered states of consciousness are not achieved until one substance moves through the environment or its substance moves through you. Such is adaptation by any means you have selected. Just be careful what you wish for: hard enough, you'll likely get it.

"What exactly does this chorus mean? It means all that is possible to find in it. ...beyond the subject represented by the [word] "one," perhaps equally understood as being an outside observer (in this case, fully disapproving) and as being the subjective judgment of this youth (and, in this case, expressing a philosophically or cynically lucid satisfaction). All of this is true, one must not delete anything...

Each time – and this is quite frequent – that a word or a phrase has two possible meanings, one must recognize and maintain them both, because the phrase must be understood as entirely veracious in both senses. For the ensemble of the discourse, this also signifies: the totality of the possible meanings is its only truth.

...One must also sense that this is not a simple irony: must they ultimately be experienced as truly ironic? One must leave this doubt intact."

– Guy Debord