words.abscond.org

Stupid over the top extrapolation theory on Cosmic Habituation

So I’m going to start putting more unfounded beginnings of thoughts, and I’m going to start with a whopper.

I listened to a podcast which got me thinking something very OTT. You should listen to it so we’re on the same page. Go! Radiolab on Cosmic Habituation

Hi.

Of course, this tests our idea of science. It challenges the very basics of scientific method. What if the very act of the scientific method itself changes the facts - an Observer-expectancy effect on our reality. Which, as the end fo the show suggest, seems to me that we cannot prove or disprove it. I think this gives me permission to go a bit out there.

If cosmic habituation is true, and we see interesting effects around us disappear as we discover and use them, resulting in nothing but a placebo effect as the only remnants of such facts exist in our culture, then what is to say that one day MDMA becomes a myth. Odd hippies sitting in fields taking it despite being disproven centuries ago, reading old records of it’s existing that have been discarded as old religion.

Maybe this is exactly what happened to homeopathy, a once very real and effective discovery that faded away from biology into society. Screw it, maybe Jesus did know how to turn water into wine.

OK, I should stop there. I’m about to be lynched by a mob.

Disclaimer: You should not try this at home. Over the top extrapolating into instinctively bad theories is dangerous and should only be attempted by professionals.

This is an example of me not being able to do anything

• I have a bath
• I discover my teeth hide more groseness than previously thought.
• I scrape the left side of my face with a rusty blade, trying to remember and motivate myself once again to buy new blades
• I realise the new book I have bought for my kindle appears to be much more sex novel than I though.
• I ponder wether my side effects repeating themselves is a sign of reversing out of the tunnel or just falling down it again.
• I watch new aesthetic videos whilst mining bitcoins. It takes a while for me to realise that that kernel panic was real.
• I publish the above point to 936 followers
• I write this blog post to much less

I make the little green dots and fight the little red Fs and I forget about the world and then I drink and I forget about the world.

Teenage.abscond.org

Lying in bed all day, I’ve pulled out some really old posts from a server somewhere in the world and put them on a slightly less old one.

I’d quite like to go to a personal history archiving day. A day where we all get together and retrace our digital trail, and those of us who were young and carefree of permanent URLs can clean it up as we go. We can share with each other lives we used to have together, or had before we met. We can tidy up our past, package it up and take it with us - more proud of it than ever.

My favourite Shoreditch bar is under my duvet

Fucking hell I hurt.

I have bacteria crawling through me and out of me. I have something growing in my throat. My stomach growls and pulls as it is stripped of everything bad and everything good. My left eye twitches knowingly. I crawl into the occasional ball as my body tenses up in preparation of nothing. I have momentary build ups behind my face that for just a second feel like they will burst out, relieving the pressure, but result in nothing but half a tear easily wiped without a notice.

I am ill now, that is the mode I am in. James Darling is closed for business for he is ill.

Thinking and writing

Recently Russell posted a recording of ‘Ted Hughes on thinking’. It got me thinking. Here’s a brief quote from the beginning, that whilst not really his point, had my mind distracted by other thoughts that were already mingling - which is a point he makes later.

At school I was plagued by the idea that I really had much better thoughts than I could ever get into words. It wasn’t that I couldn’t find the words, or that the thoughts were too deep or too complicated for words. It was simply that when I tried to speak, or write down those thoughts those thoughts had vanished. All I had was a numb blank feeling.

Although technically not at school any more, I am also plagued by this idea. I have pondered other conclusions to this recently and, to follow a theme, am trying to write them down.

One of my New Year Ambitions (for resolutions are too pressured) is to “be more like Phil Gyford”. This is a very specific and personal example of a more broad “improve my writing to make better arguments”. A less obscure example might be to “be more like Steven Fry”, linking to this emotional but unsurprisingly articulate argument for “no” when asked “Is Catholicism a force for good in the world?”. I was in awe at Fry’s ability to tackle a thought that is not only charged with emotion but also so vast in scope that I would have previously given up on rational words to try and convince such a large audience.

Back to my personal example, I have been repeatedly impressed by Phil’s ability to stand by his eloquent and rational writing skills when confronted by arguments made by People Off The Internet. I was annoyed with myself when I lost mini debates on the few things we disagreed with when working together on the Mag+ project - my emotions bruised as I retired them after realising they will not help me against such accuracy.

My respect for these skills turned into desire for these skills after another surge of frustration with failing to be able to properly express myself to the many different people who read my publishings on the internet. Having 800 people following you on Twitter is good for the ego but frustrating for someone like me who lacks the skills to articulate to them all at once.

It is obvious to say that speaking with one or two people in the pub is very different to writing to 800 different people on the internet. I am very practiced at the former and would put a great deal of the successes in my life down to my skills in that area. That has however allowed me to be pretty lazy with my thoughts. A thought can grow in the internals of my mind, leapfrogging challenges that I deem uninteresting or just plain wrong. It can then just sit there, being an unarticulated part of who I am and how I think other thoughts. I only need to air it when it finds itself relevant to a conversation I am having with someone I think has the same disinterest or opinions of the matter as me. This is to articulating as observational humour is to art. Or like a columnist.

I dislike columnists. Their skill seems to only convince the reader something they were already convinced of. They provide words to thoughts, but only to those who share the same disinterests and opinions of the readership. Maybe I dislike it because I recognise it in myself, although I often find it’s better for me to hide such writing behind obscurity so that those who disagree simply don’t understand. But then I find myself pompous rather than controversial. I’d much rather be Gyford.

This is why I was quite proud of my TechHub and Silicon Roundabout post. It is about an obscure and specific subject that I am well positioned to write about, but it was a good place to start. I could have brushed past questions and arguments against my thoughts in eagerness to get those who already agreed nodding their heads. But, according to Phil Gyford himself, I was “on good form”.

And, at the point of praising myself, I shall end. I am finding my impatience at my own writing is eating the interest of the thought itself. It has taken me almost 2 hours to write this - getting quicker would probably help.

2010

2010 happened. I didn’t really drive it much, I was either playing with waves I had made in previous years or waves that just happened.

Work

After a crazy March of four Rewired State events, I have had no involvement, and have effectively resigned all involvement. Emma has found replacements. I am still incredibly proud of what was achieved in 2009, and hope it continues. I have never really found words as to why I stopped - it’s something around the civil service and taste, sombreness to seriousness, fun to fulfilment and other things.

I continue to spend my day work with Unboxed Consulting, which has been a pleasure. A large proportion of the work has been technical, and therefore there is not much to talk about here. The biggest project was working with BERG on Mag+ - a stand out piece of work of the year as it was something that was not expected and the results were public and widely respected. It also sparked the many thoughts and plans that will hopefully shape my 2011.

2010 was by far the highest earning year I’ve had. I’m currently more wealthy than necessary, especially considering my age and circumstance. It’s been an adventure, and something I want to write about at some point.

Life

I moved to Shoreditch in January, which will probably be the longest lasting effect on my life of 2010. I have fallen in love with central London living, particularly around here.

I have also been single for nearly the entire year, and have been living alone in a studio flat. Something I have enjoyed less, although not something I regret. It has certainly not been unbearable and I am glad I have done it - I know I can survive as an individual - but I am pretty certain that I am better off with a flatmate and a love in my life.

I took 4 months off over the summer where I did no work of any sort. This was pretty indulgent, but as I went straight into full time work from school I regard it as accumulated student Summer holidays. Let’s say I wanted to vent all of my youth before I become a resentful old man. I spent time in as many fields as I could manage. A friend of mine fell in with a group of travelling stage and troublemakers, and in love with a founding member. With my spare time, I was more than happy to travel with them to Secret Garden Party, Bestival and their own Bimble Party, as well as going to the usual Bangface Weekender and Bloc Festival. Despite the huge amount of drink and cigarettes I put in myself, I don’t think I’ve been as happy and as healthy as the time I left the Bimble lot.

The sudden death of my godmother and close friend in the middle of my break brought the new highs to new lows, and I limped through to the end. I didn’t really do justice to my visits to Berlin and Amsterdam, and gave up on other travel plans I was conjuring. I perhaps also screwed up a relationship or two I wish I hadn’t. Sadness crept into everything I did, sometimes without me noticing until it was pointed out to me.

2011

I made two resolutions at midnight - eat more omelettes (I wasn’t kidding - nutritious and therapeutic) and be more like Phil Gyford (more specifically, write more and be excruciatingly reasonable in my arguments). I won’t be surprised if both last all year. I even started early on both, the latter rearing it’s head with my writing on TechHub.

The culmination of pretty much everything learnt from 2010 has resulted in me having put in an accepted offer to buy a 2 bedroom flat just off Columbia Road. I plan to stay in London and to share with another.

With regards to work, I plan to sacrifice a bit of my field time to be doing something serious but not somber. I haven’t decided what that is yet.

Day without socks

The body pangs from the New Year’s Eve medicine. Every cigarette I smoke in bed makes me feel worse, but I smoke more.

I watch TV on demand and cook an omelet, read all of my inboxes and do just enough of my to do list to stop my pangs turning into a panic attack.

There is a drunk man buzzing all the flats in the building. We lean out of the windows to see if there is something to understand if there is something wrong that we can fix.

I move the laptop charger to my table, enforcing me to spend at least a quarter of my day 3 meters away from bed. I spend an awful lot of time doing nothing.

I compose writing in my head that I don’t get round to typing. There are cigarettes to smoke.