Art is dead, not only because its critical transcendence is gone, but because reality itself, entirely impregnated by an aesthetic which is inseparable from its own structure, has been confused with its own image. Reality no longer has the time to take on the appearance of reality. It no longer even surpasses fiction: it captures every dream even before it takes on the appearance of a dream.
An interesting demonstration of how the human brain works.
But also something of a lesson regarding perception, and the unreliability of subjective perspective versus objective reality.
You can be extremely certain about how you perceive the world, your "lived experience," that which you "feel it in my heart." But that doesn't mean it's actually true. And it doesn't mean we have to endorse it, or ignore or outright deny objective reality.
"Does a falling tree in the forest make a sound when there is no one to hear?"
Which says something about the nature of philosophers, because there is always someone in a forest. It may only be a badger, wondering what that cracking noise was, or a squirrel a bit puzzled by all the scenery going upwards, but someone. At the very least, if it was deep enough in the forest, millions of small gods would have heard it.
Things just happen, one after another. They don't care who knows. But history...ah, history is different. History has to be observed. Otherwise it's not history. It's just...well, things happening one after another.
Nobody tells you how much mental illness fucks with your perception of time. How you can’t place memories right. How you can’t distinguish if something happened a month ago or a year ago. How you lose entire chunks. Weeks, months of memories just get brushed away somewhere. What you do remember just ebbs and flows together. You’re never really in the moment so you can’t ever really hang onto it.
“april, magnify my awareness and shrink my fears, energize my purpose and starve any apprehensions. soften opinions i carry of myself so i’m not weighed down by perception, solidify my sense of self so it can’t be broken by anything that misunderstands me. lead me towards growth.”
Almost there. Almost there. Almost. A fear submitted by Scott to Deep Dark Fears - thanks!
Sick of paintings that have eyes that follow you around the room? Mine don't do that! Check out my shop!
"Good heavens, potatoes are worth more than gold!"
"Surely not!"
"If you were shipwrecked on a desert island, what would you prefer, a bag of potatoes or a bag of gold?"
"Yes, but a desert island isn't Ankh-Morpork!"
"And that proves gold is only valuable because we agree it is, right? It's just a dream. But a potato is always worth a potato, anywhere. Add a knob of butter and a pinch of salt and you've got a meal, anywhere. Bury gold in the ground and you'll be worrying about thieves forever. Bury a potato and in due season you could be looking at a dividend of a thousand percent."