10 Sunday Sundries

Freewill is easier than you think, hardly an algorithm

The Google Daemons never shrink from controversy, don’t go out drinking with the band, or sleep with the drummer’s partner, although those charged with their invocation might. I started today’s post with an idea, but the Imps who control my digital photography life had other ideas — It certainly feels like a synergistic interaction, one of ‘give and take.’ even cooperative, but the Imps don’t see me, reduce me to a digital value that feels disembodied, until its put into action, entered into a grimoire of use by the One-Percent Wizards who use it to offer me my desires, repackaged and placed outside of myself as if they were separate. They are only satisfied by my participation in stimulating their hollow-metallic lust. Initially, I was attracted to the Imp’s offerings because of its resemblance to a great heartbeat, the embodiment of the living world, now after due consideration, it seems more extractive, slightly vineal, sexualized mining of my unconscious, which has been algorithmically seeded with wantings that can be fulfilled only by those same infernal machines and their equally enslaved masters.
Which one is most ‘real?’ (I do agree with Nabokov, ‘Reality’ should always be put in quotes.) Which one is closest to the lived experience? From my perspective working with the Pixel 4 Familiar, sometimes I don’t even look, I just take a picture based on a disturbance in the periphery. I may have never seen this, trusting my Familiar to do the heavy lifting. Your experience is even more compromised and yet, in some ways, it seems ‘realer’ less mediated. Wouldn’t you agree?

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Leave a visceral response, as if the color seeped through every organ dying you from the inside out, eventually contributing to your choice of clothing. “Hey wait up!”
To repurpose Rimbaud on drugs: “If you use instrumentalized mechanisms to think, eventually you won’t be able to think without them.” Of course, that might not be a bad thing.
I hardly ever think of nose hairs being part of me. Why then did I take so many pictures trying to eliminate them? Of course, we rarely think we have a head unless our Daemons and Familiars remind us. “Try a different angle for a better picture.” or “Try portrait mode?” Not all of us have the same Familiars or work in different sub-basements of the Memetic Empire so the language differs, although, at this moment we share the same face. What is yours? What is mine? What belongs to or is demanded by your Daemon, Imp, & Familiar?

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Con/Jur/d