Er ligt allemaal zee in ‘t water.
The universe wants to fuck you.
This may sound like a bad thing. By the time you notice it could be a good thing, there’s all this resistance built up that probably should dissolve a bit before we can check out how good of a thing it is.
But just as struggling when the universe fucks you is deeply pointless 1, unbuilding resistance through struggle never got me anywhere.
But to get back to the point: you, me, the universe. Wanna get it oan toniyeeite? That’s what all this talk about ‘the beloved’ is about, yesno? I’m sort of wary of the tendency to not take that word for a too literal image, ’cause it implies that fucking is something to be overcome. We’ll see, but for now, that seems like just another throwback to asceticism.
1) although it might appear sexy to some 2
2) really? who? or even, where?
Beats don’t mark time, nor are they marked by time – they just groovily pulsate your sensual experience, making your aliveness reverberate joyously in recognition.
The obliviously cheerful patterning of plants.
Als ‘t niet gewoon gaat dan moet ‘t maar achterlijk.
(If it doesn’t get done the normal, mature, healthy way, then the retarded way is the better option.) 1
Power animals of the pain forest.
(Seen on the street:)
If your heart is free, you are standing on liberated territory. Defend it.
1) Edit 6-6: Niet achterlijk doen natuurlijk! Achterleuk, heb ik ‘t over.
(You don’t like puns anyway, right?)
It’s very dangerous to think about how to make life better (as opposed to e.g. how to have a better life), because you might start to feel encouraged to make other people’s life better too.
Living amongst a lot of humans of a purportedly lower civilizational level (according to at least two ideologies I know myself to have been way over-involved with in the unmourned past) has shown me the stupidity of believing that concepts like ‘civilizational level’ are remotely useful as a descriptor of humans. If you think you win something by categorizing, why not rank people according to niceness? (My neighbourhood wins.)
Relative to their power, there might not be that much difference in the amount of happiness/suffering the different civilizations have caused in other beings anyway. And if you think this can and should be measured, and you think the implications of those measurements can be analyzed and used to steer your actions, and predict how awesomely humanist the effects of those actions will be, well: good to know, because it’s good to know that you’re a cold blooded psycho crazy person from Looneyville, and I’ll politely avoid you.
I can do soma fine, I’m mildly able at emotional stuff, I’m good but terrifyingly finicky about identity, but as for matters of aliveness and vitality: weren’t never allowed to develop a clue, really. (Nor western culture, sad to say: that stratum of being is direly overlooked ’round these parts.) I feel like I’ve been dragged schlepped and yanked out of situations in which my vital body tried to show me what to do at that moment, by a lot of people who made it their business to save me from my dirty lazy dangerous self, way too many times. Oooh weren’t they being selfless for doing that, they thought, I suppose.
Weird that I touch at an image of a kind of fourfold organization of the human again after lo these many years. Well at least I’m not mistaking what identity is as fervently as ol’ Rudi. I hope.
In a way that may seem superficially contradictory at first, addiction compulsion and obsession can play a healthy role: they may function as a lever that when pushed switches the human into a mode where relaxation is allowed. Hey, it’s more important than it feels like, for most humans, don’t knock some risk-taking along the way to gettin’ some.
The quibbles raised against abandoning the projects of hope, or the cessation of the illusion of choice, or giving up on the supposed need to find understanding to guide my actions all amount to the same thing: “but won’t that mean you’ll do wrong things and/or fail to do good things?”; and can all be refuted by acknowledging the role of interest. Being consistently appears interested and interesting, there’s nothing that suggests being will suddenly become uninteresting when hope, choice or understanding aren’t there; and hints that it will contrariwise appear more interesting and interested are plentiful.
Sometimes, I feel absorbed in HereNow. This is a perception, and the perception is HereNow, and most of that is whatever is touching the senses of the human system. But the human system itself vanishes into a blind spot at the center of HereNow. When I look back at that system from my perch at the tropopause, it feels bafflingly tiny and laughably insignificant; like a swirl of scum flung off a wavelet on the ocean of Being. I feel a gulf of unknowingness between the vastly empty weight of Being and the deeply flimsy transience of what the human system identifies as, whether intentionality, body, choice, mind, or desire and so on. It seems unimaginable that humans can continue existing in that vacuum, under that weight; and impossible to understand why we haven’t exploded, or been crushed, respectively; or in the same happening.
Of course, there’s an ‘and yet’, and it goes like this: some of the things humans do are very awesome and feel very nice; quite as if their doing transcends their existential triviality. The ripples from the new patterns they somehow manage to cause to appear in the scum on the waves on the ocean of Being somehow manage to influence other patterns, sometimes they unstick (dukkha -> sukkha) a little bit of fluff that miraculously kept itself stuck in a pattern that felt unhappy or constrained, they cause a pattern of desire to become a pattern of satisfaction, they encourage new and exciting patterns of desire to emerge and so on. Be they doings of art or love, science or politics, I wouldn’t want to miss them, even if right now I can’t see how they can exist. And the damnedest thing of course is that they feel as if they cause the scum to feel more alive, they cause the transient chaos of living as humans to feel more grounded and open, they make the human pattern feel part of the ocean for a few moments, and in those moments trivial existence feels like it is essential being. I may be blinded by hope when I say this, but it feels like it makes the ocean capable of harbouring new patterns, new forms, new beings; and that feels decidedly non-trivial; also fun, healthy and good. Maybe the ocean doesn’t ultimately care (or maybe it does, who can tell, and it sure wouldn’t matter if someone can), but why not have fun healthy good things happening, even if the illusion of choice is just that.
So now my simple brain wants to know where this overly convoluted heap of waffling is leading and decides to use it to have another crack at the hoary old dilemmas surrounding the (again, illusionary) questions of what ‘should’ ‘I’ ‘do’ and why. (By now I hope you get why I call those questions illusionary, right? Otherwise that’s what the comments are for. Hey didja know there’s a comment section? You can comment there. It’s fun! Healthy! Good! Do eet. Do eet noowwwww.) Alright, so there’s an unimaginable rift between what I’m in the habit of calling me and Being, but still, now what. Especially considering the fact that Being could crush me like less than a bug and nothing would be lost, nothing would change. Maybe we are after all ‘justified’ (rhetorically speaking) in assuming we have latitude to choose, hope, build, desire – Being hasn’t snuffed us out yet, so why not. We’ll have to assume that that’s as much of a warranty for the possibility of human life as we’re going to get, and right now, maybe that’s enough. Although looking at the world and what it suffers: barely; and we keep trying to cut it closer. So roll on the revolution. As long as I can dance, I’ll do my part. Looking forward to see yours, too.
So I’m sitting here listening to Gorje Hewek’s Vous Lhiem, and suddenly it strikes me, around 48:36: none of the layers here would be out of place in house music, just like their groovy interplay would be right at home, so why does this still feel like techno to me? There’s layers, loops and grooves in house and in techno, what is it that makes me want to call something housey or technoy.
Well, it could be something like this: techno uses stuff to make loops and layer them, and a lot of nice techno uses grooves for that. House uses loops to groove, and layers them if it enhances the groove. [Shorter: techno loops grooves, and house grooves loops.]
Apart from that (which is nothing like an ironclad law) anything’s possible of course, and it all depends on taste and influence and mood and expression and suchlike. The stuff that the techno guys loop is often artificial or concrete or abstract and not explicitly groovy, but it becomes groovy because the layering of the loops is hypnotic and that’s a very deep groove. The loops that the house guys groove are more often organic or come from a simpler artificiality that tried (and failed, gloriously) to mimic organic sounds: venerable 303′s belching clouds of acid vapour while attempting to sound like two hands, clapping. Also therefore techno depends on hypnotic layering, which determines the structure of the tracks: there’s no room to dig in to lyrics, choruses and so on within that framework, so instead it just keeps looping and shifting, minimally, to stay in a zone that’s fit for enjoyment by humans. The structure of house stays a bit closer to already developed forms of call and response, verse and refrain and all that, which have proven themselves to groove throughout the ages.
But always this: either you work towards layered looping (with groove as a very welcome side dish), and thence into hypnosis/trance; or you go towards groove (with some smart loopy layers to smarten stuff up) and from there into the sexytime.
And now that I’ve said that of course I don’t give a cock what you call it (housetechnobreakstrancegospeljazzecstasy), but it still feels to me as if those two are different directions, and it might be possible from there to feel into some potential palettes of expression and movement and energy, which would be fun. Worked for Kurt Koegel, and worked for me when he taught me about them (those palettes of somatic movement in contact improv he put together are awesome and freeing and comfortable and very very nice).