All the more alone -- all the less lonely.


By the way,

Has it ever occurred to You, my Fair Reader (or have You ever come to ponder such), to whom exactly is it, that, in essence, all my questions are directed? Who is it that I'm talking to, here, in (or, perhaps even, through) these posts?

For, as far as the linguistic form goes, You, the Reader, might conceive yourself as the Recipient (along with all the other Readers), to which, then, I point out that, at no time, should the Reader lay His/Her trust on any form on this forum. (Regardless, whether this note -- this scribble for a 'reminder' that's hardly even consistent... whether it, by its nature, be more an expression of a 'sigh' -- a one of sheer nonschalance, it would, moreover, seem -- than an honestly given advice.)

So that, for example, when I contradict claims of some previously published texts carrying my signature, it might, in fact, be Your mannerism that's got entangled, not at all mine.

"Why -- then you must be writing for the joy of writing itself, is that right?"
(So that, in that case there would be no definite recipient, in the first place.)

Sure I am, but not solely 'for that reason'.

"Well, let me guess -- it's just you, and no-one else?! And to Hell with Reasons!"

I kind of like that -- "to Hell with Reasons" -- yeah! That's the spirit, alright.
Still, that's not how it is, in together. Not "just" me, no. There's more to it than that -- and, in a sense, less to it, as well.

It's not a riddle. There's no answer.

But You can fare far, and You can fare close.


By 'forms', then, in this context, I mean forms in the most general sense, not just the pronominal functions -- or the forms of linguistics, taken all together, to which I'd include the ones of 'purely logical' in nature. The concept of form -- as ambiguous as it might appear, even after a long thought, it is (and, after a critical inspection, still remains) a critical concept in understanding the (human) cultural existence in general, and especially, that in relation to its defining physical and animal features. So I might elucidate it at some later time, especially, as I have filled hundreds of sheets on this very issue during the years.

"Mannerisms", as I used the concept in one previous connection already, do, of course, reach up to the Linguistic, and -- in fact -- even up to the very core of our logic -- which comprises of the most fundamental rules of, but also to our linguistic practices, since they coincide with the very possibility of such practices. (Take another logic -- but you won't get the same 'World' along with it.) When two fundamental logical forms are irreconcilable, the 'ground' for the choice is purely practical. -- which then comes down to the fact, that exist no argumentative grounds for one choice or the other -- and that, moreover, in all contexts of this sort, no concept of reality or truth is applicable. Thus it so stands, that only when a certain Mannerism has succeed to prove itself relevant in some timely sense -- can it make a claim for, and be integrated with the timeless nature of logical rules and which, to be sure, carry on to other, formal functions of linguistic practices in general -- as the previous 'issue' with pronomines already brought out.
Just popped out of a dream where I was writing a text, and seeing nothing else, but the text. (In fact, seeing only one line, and that, moreover, only with one eye.) Proved out, it was not a dream in the ordinary sense, since I had, indeed, written a few sections of intelligible, even relatively abstract text on my notebook. It should find its way here soon enough...
Coming off this dream, and after thinking for a while about it, I then went on to embark on yet another dream, which -- after yet another +-100h of sleeplessness, the mentioned quasidreaming notwithstanding, could be attained by merely trying to keep the eyes open in this state -- but, as you might've noted, I'm not quite your man of "merely something" -- rather, if we keep with the imagery, "a man of something, and then, of something else, as well". Nevertheless, I knew I would require some stamina.. and here we are, way on our way. It seems it's hard to loose this time (loose whatever it might be -- the mind and/or the money -- or still something else, perhaps...), but I wouldn't want to be the man to fall where there seems to be no bumps to step in to...

so, then, for the loathing, I will not even finish this sentence, which is so utterly conventionally set up to say something that's been said one million (1000.000) times before.

(Come on, You Fuckers, where's your sense on Imagination!?! I'm aware that you do have had sex in your life. WHAT else?)

Could you believe!?

(You probably couldn't.)


There is hope, right?

"Why, of course, there is!" -- right?

But then, "all things are possible".

Is this not the true claim of our despair?

(There are some thoughts I share with mister Lev Shestov.)

It's true that Philosphy and Despair share the same battlefield.

But that they share the same heart, as well?

Few believe so.
(So it appears.)


I'm sorry to say, but I think someone is already on your trail.


However, it would seem this spirit be nothing more than a frivolous entity of pneuma, yet I'd give it some credit for the effort -- as I conceive it -- as a "downside of certain phenomenon" -- an ungrateful task, since things have downsides, be it for the spirits or mechanics pure, it just so happens. Why not, instead, be the spirit of unbounded creation, for instance? -- Then, wherever might you ever be headed, you'd find people laying down on their knees just to express their loyal elation before your workings. So if you like praise...

Me? Generally, I don't recognize praise, at all, but there are exceptions. At least there used to be, still some time ago.

So I got news for you, if you're not into science of pneumatics, yourself. ...namely, ...

Mmmh, no, sorry --

You've got to excuse me for a second (one of the longer ones).

On the recent - -

- -
Mind on the Loose

and you - ? just note the adjustment

rather, it's like the wind that blows in many directions

So many, in fact, that 'directions' lose their primary meaning

They're not fixed, as they are, if they are acknowledged

- -

Shame we shall share in fair proportions - - (does this come to you, as if a surprise? Something grossly out of context? - - Well, me, I share your surprise -- and -- with it, all the confusion that it instigates!)

Seriously speaking: where did this talk of "shame" originate? How did it find a place here, where only the wise words settle down -- and with this I do include the 'fragments' that make no sense, at all. Everything does, supposedly, but quite often not through its sensible aspect. (Anyway, that's the case with MotL, no doubt.)

Like it? I just decided on the fairness deal, I did. "The fair proportion" -- count zero for me, and let the rest remain under heavy veils.

I'm cooking up more, if you want some, just drop a message to satunnaistapaus (at) gmail (dot) com.

(What I'm cooking, they are the dreams this culture can claim to understand -- to some degree, at the very least. By that token, though, they're still not trivial. Not at all.)

Reaching 80 hours of sleeplessness. Falls short of the 330+ hours I got to, last spring, as I decided to quit sleeping altogether. But then, I had an accident on a micro scale, and passed out before I could administer a remedy. But my cardio breaks at the hundred level, nowadays -- which makes living just an unbounded series of some 4-5 day experiments. But, of course, this amounts to death -- or permanent disability -- considering the somatic condition I've built, so far. -- Seems then, I've inhabited a spirit that goes around killing people (or should I've put the thing the other way around!? Well, nevermind that.) -- yes, killing -- but through its nature it only kills the body it itself inhabits, and then -- moves on to the next one. Granted, a sinister spirit, if you're not so much into killing yourself & stuff like that.