(from journal, 2019/3/20)
…I was thinking about crabbiness. Was feeling crabby doing reviews – one paper took me a long time to go through because it was so technical. I really disliked reviewing it. (And I gave it the first worse-than-neutral review. I’m through with being Mr. Nice Guy…) I used to look weird at crabby people – why don’t you just like life more? But being crabby is a superpower. It’s like wearing glasses that separate the real, the good, from the fake, the stupid. It’s like seeing the emperor’s new clothes for what they are. Not taking BS. Saying to yourself, I frugglicking hate this crap, and is someone tells you, “well, look at the bright side,” you say, “SHUT UP YOU DOUBLESPEAKING SHITHEAD.”
“In these shelves you will find the beginnings of thoughts that you might have, if you were not completely satisfied with your life, or if you cannot sleep. And you will find those thoughts, ended in satisfactory ways. Reading them you may be frustrated at first, thinking that the continuations evade the questions. But read them enough, and you will find that they are perfect circles, questions swallowing their own tails, until you wonder what you were asking in the first place.”
it is a world without permanent scars. you can always recover from anything. there is always a second chance. there is never a Real Death. you can take back anything.
the end of every story is not the villains’ defeat but their atonement.
but in our world, too many changes are permanent. and if you are afraid of them you don’t get far from the starting line.
if you say the wrong thing, a million people will villainize you, each by itself a finger-nudge but together they are like a high-speed train slamming into a pedestrian.
“please don’t flow so fast, you little mountain.”
the people who want a softer world are not those would-be villains. “it’s empathy in overdrive,” explain the school of hard knockers.
the softer world is impossible. or possible for the faithful utopist, as a post-death world with border guards, lifetimes away.
but we can strive for it as an ideal.
people kinder with a few extra words.
“sorry. but try again next time. i mean it. please do. you are beautiful.
“you can always try again.”
Sometimes the world doesn’t understand,
why you watch from behind your windows,
why you’re so deep in thought
so they try to draw you out,
and when you try to explain
they mistake your stumbling for pain.
But you don’t have to come out
if you’ll just let me in
Some spaces, like yours,
are larger from the inside.
Oceans which look a formless blue
are teeming with alien life.
I would love to surf the waves of your mind
Find the sharks that you hide below
The deep-sea vents that even you don’t know
and drown in your depths.
(From the writing prompt: Write a love letter to yourself.)
I found this album recently, called “Aryuna’s HECKING Good Song Collection 2.” The songs are all sung in a cheerful, vocaloid voice, but the lyrics are disturbing. I found the dissonance fascinating, attractive. The songs are more powerful because of that – they stick with me because I couldn’t put it nicely in a box.
The first song in the album is called Sirenomelia. The lyrics are in 3 different languages. Because most of it wasn’t in English, after hearing the song I was very surprised to read the translation and find that it was completely not what I imagined. Indeed, the part in English is the most innocuous. Starting from
I’m a fish out of water,
not belonging anywhere.
Left behind with rain all over me,
The sun won’t smile on me.
it goes to (in translation)
I carefully pointed my knife at my tail.
I stabbed it and tore it apart, so that it can become feet.
I’m drowning in a sea of my own blood and my tears.
It would’ve been better if I never lived.
To me this song is about trying to be something that you’re not. Society – the people around us – pushes us to be different from who we are. We change ourselves in order to fit in, to have “friends.” And sometimes we do it willingly, cheerfully, thinking that is the right “story”, and don’t notice that we are standing in a pool of blood until it’s too late.
One story is the little mermaid love story. But another story is that: Sometimes, a mermaid should stay a mermaid. So to all the mermaids & other fantastical beasts out there – be who you are. Don’t chop off your tail.
I need to revise my timeline for strong AI by several decades/orders of magnitude.
Also write a novel before writers become obsolete?
This song captures my mood tonight:
Goodbye to spring
“when you wake it’s gonna be a different world”
- Everything has changed. Go do Important research to mitigate existential risk.
- Nothing has changed. Do what you love, defined as what you would do, if an AI is doing it 1000x better than you. Are you not doing that? Why not?
And more song parts:
I don’t know my purpose in this but it’s obvious it’s miniscule at best.
– Time bending
I’m freaking out because we’re running out of time.
– Swingset chain
Starting’s always hard
Until the mind’s world unfurls
A silence teeming