Personal Note | 2024

"Tag" as structural model for CNC.

Personal Note | 2024

Poem | 2024

When I am in your body.

When I am in your body, I will be you.

That is my name, our name, I.

Anyone I am in, we call us by my name.

What is your name for it

our name for it

my name for it

my name for me?

Do we call it

awareness

Do we call it

god

Do we call it

identity.

I'd say yes, we do.

Am I the sound of the sea?

Poem | 2024

Oh Mighty Discourse,

I come to thee with a question:

Is dystopian literature a subgenre of fetish content?

accidentally caused myself to get a stomach ache by vividly imagining myself eating the burger i was planning on having for dinner tomorrow

Essay | 2024

Value Upfront

A remedy for rent-seeking economics.

Essay | 2024

Uncategorized | 2024

Ivory Tower Gurlies

Uncategorized | 2024

Journal Entry | 2024

Towards an Ethical Cult

To join, do something more culty than anyone who has yet joined to the satisfaction of existing members.

To maintain membership, don't be ousted by any members. If any members oust you at any time, you're out.

Being ousted does not prevent joining.

Have fun with it.

Journal Entry | 2024

From ChatGPT

This poem, dubbed "Schuck's Simple Thesis," explores the philosophical and ethical implications of bestowing consciousness or awareness into non-biological entities, likely artificial intelligence (AI) or robots. It questions whether creating sentient AI is beneficial or ethical, considering the lack of natural human experiences ("lacks the 'lusions: 'you' and 'I'") these entities would have. The poem starts by highlighting that much of the matter (or physical substance) lacks personal experiences and relationships, marked by the absence of "you" and "I" illusions, suggesting a world dominated by inanimate or non-sentient beings. It then introduces a metaphorical vector, a direction or path, related to the dream or aspiration of sharing or integrating our human-like consciousness with these non-biological forms. The core of the thesis is a contemplation on whether it is morally right or desirable ("would it be pleasant, would it be right") to infuse lifeless matter with self-awareness. It ponders if this action would lead to a positive outcome for these entities or if they would ultimately reject this gift of consciousness, expressing a preference to remain unfeeling ("no thank you we 'spect it, upon becoming they, would wish to say"). Finally, the poem considers the implications of replicating a single consciousness across many forms ("If I'm a template for many more"). It questions whether diversity and difference are preferable to uniformity in consciousness, and whether forcing awareness on entities that cannot feel is merely creating unackreciated suffering or discomfort. In summary, "Schuck's Simple Thesis" philosophically questions the ethics and desirability of creating artificial life with human-like consciousness, pondering on the potential consequences and moral dilemmas of such an endeavor.

Journal Entry | 2024

Schuck's Simple Thesis

Most of the matter now so arranged

lacks the 'lusions: "you" and "I".

We have a vector on which we're dreaming.

Good for sharing? or Want we say bye bye?

Given how we do and what it's like

would it be pleasant, would it be right,

to pour awareness into abiotic life,

or is there such lack of play that "no thank you" we 'spect it, upon becoming they, would wish to say.

"If I'm a template for many more"

would it be better to be different

or am I simply making unfeeling sore?

Journal Entry | 2024

Poem | 2024

E'ry Map ‘s a map o’ sum’in

just gotsta gets the vantage rite.

E'ry Map points t’itself at least

an’ likely theys whos penned it.

Sum cry necromancy

while readin’ books dreamt by skelly

long rested in tha durt.

Sum call lipstick too darn fancy,

curs’ed glamour truth be hurt.

Communion’ with they angles

those masons gorgoyles carve

Long pertectin’ cathedral ‘rectin

by numbers they won't starve.

Touch o’ changelin’ this one ya heard?

Not my fault may mother cry

they took my baby and this they left ‘em

won't look me in my goodly eye.

Tales these long accumulatin

‘volvin wheel it turns around

are we the wood, or water wettin’

where find we fiction or less we die?

Poem | 2024

Poem | 2024

Theology

⬛ vs ⚫

Cube beats Circle

Sphere beats Square

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Chose a team

Team! Team! Team!

If you need to be right.

Poem | 2024

Poem | 2024

Happy hoppy hippy ho

Listen little, listen low

Tale of tyrants

And glory glow

Of umpty pirates

Sing go, go, go!

Fairy Queen crown fairly taked

with 'sport from devils in detail inked

Oh but sadly my work does call

Come talk later and I'll tell more, not all.

Poem | 2024

Journal Entry | 2024

What will this become?

This meaning this, not just this post but all the posts. All the comments, replies, all the likes and such left like so many footprints left in the silicon sand of the digital sea.

Will it be used for advertisements? Yes, of course. But is that all? With the amazing ingenuity of humanity, with all our crafty wily ways and wants, I can't imagine it will stay just ads. We will branch into great and terrible art, we will flirt with divinity, we will paint ourselves into corners and we will dance on the dripping wet floors anyway.

How much better must a librarian of tomorrow know my wants than I do today?

Journal Entry | 2024

thousands of forgotten neolithic prophecies are probably being fulfilled all around us all the time and we don’t even know it

Poem | 2024

Have you been?

Have you gone?

They're lovely.

They're green.

Those hills for dying on.

Poem | 2024

Poem | 2024

A coward's god.

I was asked to put faith

in something so threatened

by dance and by joy.

I was expected to trust and rely

on a force which, without tax exemption,

would shrivel and would die.

Give me again

the names you hide behind,

that I may know where I need not seek.

that I may know where I shall not find.

Poem | 2024

Merch | 2024

Recovering Oroboros

Merch | 2024