Saturday, 7 November 2015

28.9 - 15.10

28 - 29.09-----------------------------------------------------------------

My consumption of things is more varied than people imagine.  I do enjoy cancer creating processed meat but I also smoke cigarettes and eat Subway.  I have a relatively active lifestyle managing to fulfil a full time job and also make lots of artwork and patterns (when I can be bothered) and also write short stories.  I get plenty done on my bad diet and consumption of evil goods.  Perhaps this will reach a point in which I get very ill and will regret consuming these goods... but I feel that the power of my ego and artistic integrity somehow lifts me above such bodily concerns and even if the polymers of my physical form are quite strained I am somehow powered by this ego and integrity... this need for conquest is the perpetual motion engine of my zombified but Herculean body.


30.9 - 01.10 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Very much enjoying listening to the History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps podcast whilst doing my data entry.  The pre socratic thinkers came up with some really imaginative ideas.. before everything became too academia-ized.  

2 - 3.10 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went outside. 

I'd not been outside for a few days. 

I didn't have any canned fish left. 


The world didn't look different but the people did. 

Everyone had these perspex spheres on their heads. 

Not clear perspex but a very glossy dark gray. 

The darkest of gray. 

Not black. 

Almost black. 

The people were dancing. 

All of them. 


There was no music.

I saw myself reflected in the sheen of their orbs.

My face was that of a primitive human.

I just wanted to get my fish from the shop. 

Then get back home.


In the supermarket I used the self service machine.




I am one quarter of the way through my saving plan.  Only another 9 months to go.

5 - 6.10 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Above is the poster that was made by my next door neighbour The Onion Widow for his gig I saw on Saturday.  It was something to cut up and fill a diary page with.  This year is almost over now which is a relief as it means the end of this all consuming and hard to avoid diary project.

Look at what happened by mistake when I was making patterns on photoshop...  I was using the below photographs from around my office building.  The above looks like the sort of artwork I should be making.  I should really at least be making some sort of artwork.  I am fairly confident that I am approcahing a phase of mass production.. unstoppable organized creation.  I love winter.

7 - 8.10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A muted paradise.  Desaturate the sensations of the body and create an elitist realm wherein knowledge becomes a hierarchy.  Create a philosophy to prove that you and your privellaged mates are right or more entitled to an opinion.  Then walk around with sympathy for those who are lower than you due to their sad circumstances.  Look knowingly at all the horror everywhere and think that it is all just mere matter.  Circumstances.  Circumstantial.  The way the matter falls from the central point it is inevitable that some of the fire of the main source will fall into the cracks on the pavement.  Go back to university and write a thesis about it.  Treat them as mere tropisms.  Dumb growing mould cultures of sticky credit cards.

9 - 11.10------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Most Useless Thing On Earth Prize 2015 is awarded to:
Humanity has won this award for 200'000 consecutive years. 

Don't you all feel proud? 
So carry on with your building and your culture and your sports.
Remember that nothing in the Universe needs it. Not even you. 
You are a hindrance.
See you next year. 

12 - 13.10 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two theoretical models of the known universe:

Garry Lavender was returning back to Chapel on the Frith from his visit to Buxton. He sat on the quiet evening train. Garry was very anxious of people so the quiet gave him plenty of time to transcribe today's thoughts into his large leatherbound notebook.
Garry's solitude was interrupted, however, when the train stopped at Manchester Piccadilly. A group of men boarded the train, they were about Garry's age, in their late 20s/30s and they were all wearing Manchester Cityshirts. Even though Garry was alarmed by their drunken pig like faces he couldn't help but notice that their shirts were the same colour blue as five of his pet budgies.... also that there were five of these horrible men... walking down the carriage towards him. Coincidences?

"What the f**k are you?" said one of the men. Sitting down next to Garry. "Think we've found ourselves a queer." said one of the others.
Garry flinched backwards towards the window, lifting his pale hands up to his face to cover up his shaking expression. But how can he cover his shaking hands? He wasn't just shaking in fear but in anger. Anger that such men would judge him. Garry knew that this was the nature of man. To draw conclusions from the merest of appearances.
"Look at what he's wearing."
Garry hunched up his legs and buried his head behind his knees. Becoming a ball of constrained kinetic fear. Dressed in a pastel pink blazer and a pair of flowery ladies trousers from Primark. He started to mumble.
"Self expression is vital! In order to ascend to new levels of u-u-u-u-u-u-u-under-standing.. and sitting." said Garry from between his knees.
"He's mental." said one of the men. Looking through Garry's notebook. "This is full of pigeons."
"BUDGIES!" yelled Garry with a trembling lip. "and I've also drawn some flowers and written many notes!" Garry lifted his head from his knees. Garry was angry they would compare his beautiful summer bird friends to the poor unfortunate pigeons.
Garry was then saved when the conductor appeared and told the men to leave him alone. As they were ushered away they were saying Garry was "next level" and "f**king tapped". The men sat on the chairs on the opposite end of the carriage. It was still too close for Garry... regardless of this he returned to his notes.
"The Unascended Man is not evil." he wrote. "only primitive. He needs a shepherd."
Then Garry wrote this story using third person perspective.

"Vision of the Angelic Hierarchy" from "Liber Scivias," 1150-1175 C

14 - 15.10 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Look at how much money I've won at gambling.  £350.   That has definitely sped up my saving plans for the next 9 months.

Though to put a downspin on everything.  What about Cicero.  He did really well at life.  Then...  he died.

Encapsulation of the life of Cicero follows (he read books, achieved stuff, then he got proper dead):

some stuff about patterns below:

And to close things off here are some patterns.  People have been looking at my patterns long after Cicero's death.