freewrite

this is a freewriting exercise...

intimation. the flashes of - what? the indescribable. the socially inexplicable. it is what is burned into my brain, a cattle-prod on my mind's eye. i am corrupted, branded as it were, by the images of what i imagined i needed.

there is something intolerable about the lack of a dream, even the lack of a nightmare. it is to be nameless, and without a language, not a language to speak, certainly, but more crucial, without a language to refer to the self. before language, does the world exist? is the big bang applicable to human reality itself, that before the advent of language and the speaking self, the universe is a plenitude waiting to explode? is that why "existence" must always be outside of itself (i.e. "ex-istence")? is that why we have to continually "spell out", "ex-plain", "talk it out?" because the inside and the before is always an anomy, the anonymous, the nameless, the abjected. "what is your face before your parents were born?" what is that originless origin, the beginning which cannot be spoken of?

the biggest lie of a fairy tale are the first four words: "once upon a time." it is upon this primary lie that all other truths may be built, like scaffolding around an empty well, like the spider's web built between endpoints that do not exist. even the "happily ever after," that's not so scandalous a lie as the initial one, for who cares what farcical endings we posit after we've already made a farce of the beginning?

there are two ways to initiate a crystalline wave in a supersaturated solution. (actually, a few) one way involves dropping in a seed crystal. the seed crystal is the "archetype" around which all crystals that come after model themselves, bind themselves to... the other way involves making a scratch in the surface of the glass holding the supersaturated solution. the invisible etch creates imperfect and random surfaces upon which the subsequent crystalline wave can take hold. the latter is the "start from scratch" option...

in biblical terms: it is said: in the beginning was the word. the word is the seed crystal, the archetype deposited by god into the primordial and formless sea, the word that divided the waters and created life. in other terms, it is also said: in the beginning was the act. the act is the scratching of the surfaces. the act is the volition that sought to tame a primordial itch, the itch that is the imperfection of the nameless beginning, the itch that IS the beginning, for there was no "once upon a time," the beginning always was a conflict, and a nameless yearning to end and begin that conflict. scratch is another name for the devil... although the devil is nothing other than the other side, the other mode, of creation.

to "start from scratch" implies a starting over, as though there were some initial mistake that required a "re-do" as it were. to start afresh (via the word) implies that at one point there was a blank slate, a clean surface, upon which to write. which is the fiction? we prefer the latter option, it is the simpler one, because the implication is that we can "trace" our beginnings from the initial impressions, as though experience is what formed us, made us what and who we are. but the latter "scratch" option is inevitably true as well. we are born and introduced into a world that always already is, that always already precedes us. and we are not and never are innocent. we are never the clean thing that was later sullied by experience. we are products of our parents, of all their genetic and spiritual failings. and our actions are never entirely clean and pure, but are the acting out of "itches" and "scratches" that we cannot understand, we never have or had the language for. watching the way a baby moves, its hands and feet arcing through an invisible infinite, its mouth shaping. there is no blank slate there. everything is always in motion, a terrible wonderful restlessness...

Shari's exhibit on KHON!

Shari Tamashiro's exhibit honoring World War II veterans was recently featured on KHON's morning show (Manolo Morales). Here is a link to view the segment:

http://www.khon2.com/news/morning/17001011.html

Check it out!

Autistic

Thimerosol supposedly has been ruled out as a causative factor for autism. I mean, they say that they've stopped putting this mercury based carrier into vaccines since 2001, and the rate of autism has still consistently risen. Interestingly enough, according to SPED professor Garnett (sp?) Smith, the rate of increase of cases of autism almost matches toe to toe with the rate of DECREASE of diagnosed cases of mental retardation. As Smith says, "I'm not saying anything," (a disclaimer) "but isn't it interesting?" Autism, after all, is a diagnosis much preferred over mental retardation. For one thing, autism is tied to so much "snake oil" and "hope," people think that at least with such a diagnosis, there MUST BE the possibility of improving and reversing the condition (such is not the case, typically, with MR). For another thing, why, autism has such rare and wonderful (in its own way) possibilities as the autistic savante (ala Dustin Hoffman); that ain't half as bad as the predictably low ceilinged expectations for a moderate to severe MR kid... Truth be told, and from what I've read, though, autism is an entirely different animal from MR.

Mysteriously, it's a disease that I feel sometimes reflects our own society, in its drastic disconnect from "common social awareness" (despite our "connection" via the web, etc., I often feel that we are much more DISCONNECTED from each other societally). Something I think the same of with regards to that other growing diagnosis: ADHD. Face it, we are a disconnected, "selfish", and attention deficit society; small wonder that our children are showing up with these disorders.

(Okay, I'm going to probably get a lot of hate for such broad and insensitive statements. Kinda like the Christian conservatives talking about the "causes of 9/11" or "Katrina." No, I'm not attributing a causal relation. Nor am I even attributing a real relation of any sort. Just mentioning that it is INTERESTING how "behavior of society as a whole" can be seen as analogous to the diseases and disorders appearing in certain members of that society. THAT's ALL).

Regret is a red planet.

Thinking of re-subtitling my blog to say: "Regret is a red planet." Whatchoothink? Perhaps the current subtitle ("The search for intelligent life continues...") is too obnoxious. Implication: You're all a bunch of idiots. Which is not the point at all. I'm the idiot! I AM THE IDIOT! And I am searching for intelligence AND life in this dead world that I happen to be. But just to reduce the possibility of this error, maybe changing to the above would be in order. Regret is my thing. Rue is my game. And like it or not, that's all I EVER write about. Regret regret regret. Don't YOU? Having come here and re(a)d this, I mean?

Relevant RevEnant

Jeez, I'm such a terrible speller... Tried to actually google the word "revOnant" (my test for the social and objective viability of my "spelling out") and discovered that no such word exists. Google suggested, "Did you mean 'revEnant?'" It didn't say this, but it might as well have added, "Because if that's what you mean, then you must be some Old School D+D dweebazoid who happened to glance through the Monster Manual once or twice, and saw some creepy picture of a zombie with a vice-like grip choking some poor fighter-looking dude to death. Jeez, get a life!" (Because: that's exactly where I got the idea, and became acquainted with the word...)

ANYWAY: interestingly enough, revEnant means someone who "returns from the dead, or after a long absence," and comes from the French word "revenir" meaning "to return." Etymologically, it shares a root with the word "revenue," which is traditionally defined as the "gross returns" (haha, zombie indeed) before taking account any losses... Also, as we are all too familiar by next month, part of that three lettered acronym, IRS. Taxes. Taxes (revenue) and Death (revenant). Indeed. The only things that keep returning...

So, if you ever paid attention to this monoblogue, you might have read that I intended to write something called "Relevant Revenant." It was going to have something to do with my grandfather. It wasn't intended to be disrespectful, but probably will be. It was going to have something to do, not with death, but with memory... "Revenant" meaning return somehow seems to dovetail nicely with this idea... Something which stubbornly comes back, returns, repeatedly...

I am thinking of detailing one of my grandfather's significant meanderings, like how one day he left the house and went wandering down to Hau Bush (in Ewa Beach). He'd already passed the point where he failed to recognize his own wife (he kept complimenting on how nice she was, but that he had to "go home..."). I often wondered, where was he trying to get to? I know that the part of the brain affected by Alzheimer's (hippocampus) is also near the "mapping" portions, those areas of the brain that allow us to navigate through space. (JEEZ, I sound so clinical and cold about this... Don't mean to be... Sometimes this sort of "objectivity" is in response to the utter futility and despair I feel with respect to this terrible terrible disease). Anyway, I wanted to write about his wandering as though there were some secret purpose to it, as though he were on a kind of quest. And I wanted to have, as his companion, a "talking dog," an Alaskan huskie with two different colored eyes (I actually know such a dog went missing in Ewa Beach). The dog would articulate things that my grandfather couldn't possibly know (for example, the meaning of "revenant"). Eventually, it would be revealed that my grandfather was searching for the "Bone of Memory," that aspect of his own experienced time and life that was "solid" and enduring, that could not be touched by the degenerative effects of his disease... And it would be something similar to the "HEART" that was lost by "Mad Hettie" in the Sandman series, in "Death: the High Cost of Living."

Superbad

Ok, I'll admit it... While it was a pretty liberally sprinkled with filth, I really liked this movie. Especially because, instead of just being about loser teenagers pursuing "P", it had a lot more to do with loyalty. In other words, teens are not just about hormones, if anything, they are somewhat self-aware of the absurdity of it all, of the biological pressure that threatens to consume "decent" human relations... Ok, I'm thinking too much about it, but there you go.

BTW, my wife liked it too. Which is actually saying a lot. Saying? Am I becoming whipped? Or is my wife actually developing a warped sense of reality like myself? Well, either way, I definitely am getting OLD. Old school. A creaky and clumsy sense of humor, all slow in the joints. And unable to get with the lingo. With dance steps that were NEVER in style, the kind that injure the other party (and, with overenthusiasm, the party killer himself).

Appreciate youth, young paduwans. It's might be wasted on you, but at least you've got it to waste...

Heart Murmurs

I am mainly writing this entry to record yet another "pun", or idea for a poem, or whatever. Haven't the clarity (or lack of) to write something on it just yet, just the seedling of a thought.

The heart organ consists, basically, of two pumps, two systems of circulation, one to collect "stale" de-oxygenated blood from the body and pump it to the lungs, and the other to collect "fresh" oxygenated blood from the lungs and pump it out to the body. You might say that the heart is "never one but two," it is always both the burden of the old and the push for the new. But this fundamental dualism aside, let's look at the problem of heart murmurs.

A heart murmur is an often faint, sometimes distinct "deviation" from the normal lub-dub sound/rhythm of the heart. Sometimes it is an "aftersound" following the "lub," other times an "aftersound" following the "dub." In any case, there is a whole science and art to listening to these sounds and determining where the "problem" is with the heart: for such murmurs do indicate problems, either with the atria or ventricles. Basically, heart murmurs are caused by "leaky" or inefficient valves; they are the sound of blood backing up, as it were.

Figuratively speaking, "heart murmurs" occur when there are "leaks" in the normally coherent and concealed ambiguity of the heart. They are memories, sometimes, or at other times, they may be inappropriate hopes (heart murmurs may occur as a result of faulty ventricles or atria, in either pump "loop"). In any case, they are not only inefficient, but potentially dangerous... The heart as our "looping" of desire, in normal "Healthy" individuals, kept "silent" and consistent (beating its syncopated rhythm with the chasing of each new pursuit), is threatened when it, for one reason or another, "LEAKS."

The normal functional machinations of our bodies and lives are so boring. Isn't it much more interesting when things break down? The mysterious signs and symptoms of burgeoning pathology, the coming to terms with abnormality, the struggles with perhaps inevitable "brokenness", the nature of (and possibility of) "cure." Yeah, it's only when things break down that we have to open them up and see how they really tick (the miraculous jerry-rigging that has kept us, and the whole society, afloat, apparently forever!).