Returning from holiday visits to their parents, brought on the occasion of several books. Severe Tuesday, February 10, 2009
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Paranoia, paranoia
Returning from holiday visits to their parents, brought on the occasion of several books. Severe
Returning from holiday visits to their parents, brought on the occasion of several books. Severe in hell "popular astronomy" may be useful someday, maybe not. "Ecology of the population," bought with the hope someday I will read and perhaps understand a little bit, but will in the world is over, the same thing if I can say about the volume of essays by Stephen Jay Gould on evolution, but I took it. I brought "The Silmarillion", which from time to time we refresh the same, "The Hobbit." Toto all wanted to move on the shelves, but I immediately doubted.
no shelf space. Books silently and stealthily appear in the home, the hatch on my shelf, and then pretend that they do not exist and only when you need to set aside space for the next couple revealed an unpleasant fact that I have no place. Arranged so floors, put their obscenely one another, sometimes - with the occasion - slip from the empty space, regardless of means, to rest next to the volume of an earlier or later. Hence the chaos. I tried once to lay next to each series, if not the entire author, unfortunately, got damn omnifarious order, which is best evidenced by the "reality dysfunction". Dysfunction of affected and "dysfunction", I do not know which volumes I'm missing, one will surely drowned on a canoeing and other borrowed his brother for a while shamelessly climbed between not another space opera Hamilton (new series, heh), you would have to make some inventory , set deficiencies purchase.
Acquire. Exactly. As a result of a variety of more or less go nasty significant part of my collection got damn. Now, sometimes I play, on the occasion of purchasing more favorite things, such as "Blizzard" Stephenson, or "Black Oceans" Dukaj; snag is that he does not know what I have. "Pattern recognition" Gibson have a fourth time, and even that was lent to someone. The magazines will be easier when they finally give the framing vintages, unfortunately, the books are mixed to a degree substantially impeding the proper finding. If I had a significant quantity, it would be easier to explain it, but recoils at the mere thought of what will be able to do when even a little bit multiply. For now, Clarkson columns adjacent to the English-language anthology of poetry on the one hand, and the "Shadow" Conrad, on the other. In addition to the poets is "Bloody Baron" Kim Newman (the first volume, "Anno Dracula" is somewhere else, the third volume nobody bothered to give us ...), but Conrad has respectable company in the form of "The Trial" by Kafka. And so with everything.
moreover, I do not know whether he wants to I find it sort it out. Actually, it could be signed at this, what about your books recently wrote Rafal A. Ziemkiewicz:
I have their entire wall, deliberately confused. Things needed for a completely unnecessary, good to crap, small to large. When I need something to consider, for example, if I miss the idea, I start to look for a book, which has long since been take off the shelf. Always helps.
At my work in such a way that approaches the shelf staring at the upatrzoną (let it be that it is "Anarchy, State, Utopia Nozick - the most boring book I had in my hand), suddenly I notice next to the other, which immediately seems to me more interesting than they originally planned to read. And I write about books, I finally broke the stalemate, and I managed to start and finish something. The last time such an event took place in September 2008, when consumed (with a significant, let us add, pleased) "Chameleon" Kosik, then finally I put the lie to the assertion that, as someone I like, it's not like his songs. With deliberately left the laptop and went home for Christmas cut off from the computer to read the entire 53.5 hours during this time, "Blindsight" by Peter Watts. Well zryłem my brain.
author did not know before, if I miarkuję, "Ślepowidzeniem" MAG started at all in Poland, it seems. And well, because Watts is a class Dukaj. Maybe even Lem. Treat it as a warning: he does not like superhard SF, with a bibliography numbering 144 items, let him not at all ticking. But I came all too well. A great, cosmic, SF, with the first contact, aliens in the snout incomprehensible and totally pochrzanionym society of the future. Oh, yes. And if the author still pounding like a drum in your personal paranoia ...
Memories are not historical archives. Actually, they are ... improvised. The whole mass of things that you associate with any event, it can be objectively false, even if you remember them very clearly. The brain has a funny habit of creating montages, dostawiania details of post factum. This of course does not mean that your memories are not real, you know? They are honest reflection of your perception of the contemporary world, and all together have shaped your vision. But it's not the photos. Rather impressionistic paintings. (...)
vision and that is the most fraudulent. I do not really see anything, at high resolution is only a few degrees, where the eye is focused. The rest of the field is the fog - just light and movement. The movement causes the focalization. And our eyes all the time fly (...) This is called "sakadyczne movements." Picture is blurred because the movement is too fast to keep up with brain integrating frames, so the eye stops just off (...). Brain empty staff cuts and assembles the material, giving the brain ... illusion of continuity.
Neither past nor present. We are tethered to the sensorium of the senses, trusting what evolutionarily tuned apparatus will serve the visual cortex, or auditory, and yet light enough przestroić eye or ear, move the received frequency, that our world has changed beyond recognition. Apparently, we know that a bee or a rattlesnake perceive differently, but we're in a totally unreasonable, anthropocentric view that only what we see, hear and smell the real world. And yet, just close one eye to spot a blind eye which we now look, cut out the reality of a piece. We know that the brain is cheating our consciousness, yet built TVs and MP3 players to easily adjust the imperfection of technology to imperfections of our brains. The picture and sound sampled in our own image and likeness - by us, but the reality is also that kind?
I do not trust the memory for a penny, before you call me paranoid, try to remember the past, and if you have any notes, diaries, blogs, skonfrontujcie them reproduced image of today. Read on to memory. And when you believe it, I will tell you: it's not all. Reality - this is just a scam. I look at the wall and see the color orange, so the wavelength of roughly 560-570 nm, extra, cool, everything that we see between 300 and 700 nm. And yet, if a little up in the infrared? How do I look like my room? I touch the rough texture, and I wonder whether, having different sensitivity of the fingertip set, I would feel fine slippery silk, or perhaps curb. Innervation: do you know what "sensitivity" is the upper part your feet? Resolution of more than one centimeter. Vision says, where a pin prick, it's just eye tells where you feel the sting. Rate - within a centimeter - is all one. And so with everything. Awareness, perception, BYT, as we know it - a very short quilt. Anyway: do not quilt, but rather a kind of ragged curtains. Watts writes about how in her eyes are able to crawl stranger, as they can play with us, waving to us, mocking the curvature of between one blink of the brain to another. A long time I think that there is no need to yell a foreign intelligence I feel like banging your head and into the wall, but she is ONLY so we see it, hear it some sweeps the tongue and nostrils, and nothing more. Stubbornly stuck with their own logic, with their own senses, the self-awareness - to deceive ourselves.
All I know is that the fraud did not counteract the 3.4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine, metylobenzoiloekgonina, tetrahydrocannabinol, ethanol, diazepam, thiopental, and no again, ethanol, especially ethanol. Sober, and the world returns to its beaten track.
But the reality is suspicious by definition.
Evolution does not provide. Complex machinery begins to live his own life. Brains cheat. Develops feedback loop stabilizes heart rhythm, then comes up against the temptation of rhythm and music. The unrest caused by the fractal images that the algorithm used to choose one's residence, metastyzują in the arts. Stimuli, which had once earned, showing the efficiency, can now come from the unproductive introspection. With a trillion dopamine receptors arises uninvited appearance and the whole system model organism anymore. She starts to model the process modeling. Consumes more computing resources, clogs are endless and nothing rekurencjami niewnoszącymi simulations. (...) Metaprocesy multiply like a cancer, then wake up and start talking about the "me."
Good day to you, it's me and you.
Ed. MAG, Warsaw 2008
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