What's on your Brain. Objectivity affects what force, before Subjectivity is manifest?


A Letter to Nikolay (Curious, Russian Bloke)

Interjection: J___ speaks over himself momentarily, to remark upon something going on in the background, here, presently on Television, a Film. Dude! have you ever listened to “The Doors” (the 1960's american rock band)? I ask for this reason: Understand, Nikolay, I am a simple man, yet rather as a paradox, I suppose the Psych_______ suggests, I am a complicated individual. I wish not for you to perceive me in an egocentric manner; I wish that you might better read, with better understanding, both who and what I a attempt at communicating. To lead a simple life, I am satisfied. I never wanted to be a "rockstar", for example. I never wished for riches; to be excessive with wealth.

Friend, at heart, I am a musician; I enjoy to play the guitar, with a band or individually. Secondary to that, I enjoy to engage in creativity, creative activity (such as writing). This likely explains why I write verbose text. I enjoy the process of communication, whereas other individuals enjoy the concise communication, I indulge myself in it. It consumes very much of my time, but it is me. To engage in other things, I am unhappy. As the course of life descended upon me, however with wrath for my excessive behavior ... < SNIP > ... and loose women, and I had the excess money to further such activity, until ... < SNIP > I am ultimately bored... < SNIP > ... etc. I am bound by circumstance.

But, back to "The Doors". Nikolay, I do not find television a viable entertainment, yet I began by writing of Television in the background, as i write you. Why? Because... wait... however, I do enjoy the American "Cartoon Network" nightly broadcast known as Adult Swim. In cartoon, animation, anything without modern actors from Los Angeles, CA / Hollywood. I dislike "the beautiful people" for what they are forced to represent. I dislike most modern Film and Television for the same representations, propaganda, commercialism, beauty worship, etc. I dislike the dishonesty of it, and so I enjoy an alternative in cartoons, comedic animation for adult people not for children.).

Presently, it is daytime, during the day, so "Adult Swim" is not broadcast. During daylight hours, it is "Cartoon Network", a children programming broadcast, more or less, yet some of it is nevertheless enjoyable also. However, it bored me today, Saturday being more so childish programming, it seems. Holy hell-- I needed to escape the childish cartoons! but there is nothing on the 3.14159 channels broadcast by Comcast Cable Co. (Comcast: a huge media corporation which likely owns much of the network through which we communicate).

I located a DVD media containing various films, "The Simpsons" TV Episodes, and to my surprise, presently, "The Doors", a film documentary-- circa 1980's, i believe, with a majority of commentary provided by Grace Slick, of Jefferson Airplane (and, I believe someone else from 'Airplane). Please accept my apology for so much text in this explanation! I intend to translate this with Google to Russian, so I hope you are able to make more sense of it, and perhaps be somehow entertained, as is my wish. NOTE: PLEASE inform me if i should, or should not do so in future correspondence, with the Russian translation. Today, I have sent both texts, for your private use in bilingual education, not to belabor my text. I enjoy to do so, but also based on whether you might benefit from what I am trying to say, if i first translate it (using Google) to Russian text. If this is true, then I enjoy the effort. Otherwise; conversely, if you find no enjoyment, or no benefit in it, I will not further attempt this sort of Russian translation. To do something for others, I am pleased. I must remark, I do not feel I am somehow paying you for your kind gesture, in giving me license to use your software. I believe there is something understood by such exchange, where each of us knows there is some equal benefit by transaction.

All this text for what? Because "The Doors" film was on my television, not now as much time has passed, but at that moment-- the sheer intensity of their performance; Jim, inspired me to mention it. Certainly, Jim Morrison was quite the extraordinary individual. Perhaps that is why I decided to mention it-- because of the way he lived, his personality, a bit like me, as the person I used to be, full of youth and power and vigor, and alcohol! And, as it performed on the television, in the background, a smile came upon my face. I was reminded of the euphoria of live musical performance; the inexplicable experience; joy of performing music, on the stage, in front of an audience. In that manner, Jim Morrison was quite outstanding. Viewing this retrospective, in context of his generation, I thought to myself. "Oh, man, what a wild one he was!". It was that very thought-- which inspired, and resulted in this whole goddam ramble over nothing-- and I've never even been that much of a Jim Morrison fanatic, or "The Doors" moreover. But, this early "The Doors" performance (portrayed in the aforementioned film); in [his] raw expression, creativity, and blatant disregard for conventional standards in performance, I felt an amazement-- I'm uncertain I've felt before-- at the sight of such a spectacle, as to have slipped, somehow metaphysically, into a member of that audience; somehow, experiencing-- if only fractional-- something of the sensation which must have enveloped that room.

Nikolay, I sure can talk, can I not. I can talk all day, about nothing, it seems. ... Oh well. This, for I thought you might enjoy it. I write for myself, as much as I write for you. Do not wonder over this purpose. A few hours have passed in the day. I am pleased by that. If reading this lengthy text is burdening to you, I am sorry. I believe you are preoccupied in matters of software development, and family life. I do not wish to impose myself upon you. Imagine me as a breeze of air, blowing through your window, which momentarily pleased you without reason, and a happy thought came upon your mind. There was nothing to it, but for a moment, you were pleased to be alive, to enjoy the things of life, such as a pleasant breeze of air. That is my purpose here, maybe, I wish to believe. Indeed, I exist in a fantasy world.

Best wishes,

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Something About a G & L ASAT Guitar (as Avatar)

I laugh at my bullshit mouth sometimes, and sometimes i share with you. In this case, i do both. My text; an excerpt from elsewhere follows:

“...your report inspires contemplation. more imagery, i should share. not unselfish, to complete requisite tasks; collect relevant imagery, and arrange for sensible viewing, etc., i may dismiss the effort. the poignant affect of retrospection precludes indulgence. (get busy living, or, get busy cleaning: stellar paths, these are forked at the ominous singularity. collision of opposing forces; dodging shrapnel)...”

§ Later, portions of this text were crafted into something more §

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Violent Vehement Dagwood

[ All this, Fiction, for your entertainment, ] if you haven't noticed [by now], i'm bored with this … until then i disregard your pain, for mine, selfish ass i beesnesthead, concern myself more 'bout ma own these days, sukka! but don't feel bad. i have someone to blame … blamin' be sa easy, yo-- and till the last bit-o-breath floweth 'tween ma nose-holes dere, dirt-nappin-like, dat bitch …!

Pardon moi, did i offend you? Didn't mean to. I'm just teeter'in, dat's all. teeterin' lika chair 'bouta fall right over, ya know? Problay needsa be locked up, i'd say. for chrissake, dey know it-- but somehow-- i's breathe me some free air 'nutha day. in yo face, Man! uh-huh, take dat, Johnny Law, and your half-ass'd pshychiatrist-sidekick dey sends witcha, goddam Community College … kinda-guy, seemed like. what do i know. i know one thing. i know how i scum

'cause Lord knows I's crazy as a shithouse rat-- what, wit all dem wildass drugs i dun smoked, popped, snorted, inserted, disolved, and evacuated out magoddamn colon all dem yeerz ago. holy crap! but at leas i's knows betta dees days. deez days, my docta write its on him paddy pad thingy, all this whack scribbly writin', and goddam if they dont give me all dis shit when i rap at one of dem dumbass pharma-chicks be workin' all deez pill joints, dig? i mean-- awwfuckit-- aint even woth much more mention, but you know. you know who i mean, dontcha? yeah, you know how dey scum. what's worser even, dey think dey even know some'n. dumbass pharma-chicks, i tell you what. but, once i get da simplist info-ma-shun tru dat head-there, dey usualee come 'round, and i's gets ma shit aint too much truble i spose. huh?

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