A different Burroughs

The secret to being a writer is that you have to write. It's not enough to think about writing or to study literature or plan a future life as an author. You really have to lock yourself away, alone, and get to work.

AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS

THE PIGS AND "THE SECURITY STATE"

sunday, september 26, 2010

The Pigs And The Security State

Well. What a way to spend 30 minutes of an otherwise pleasant Sunday afternoon...

Two hotshot young piss ant pigs just HAD to pull me over after I made a perfect turn.

They claimed they pulled me over for not having a license plate in front. I told them that in the state it is registered in, you don't need one. They then asked me "all the questions" intended for one to incriminate oneself on anything.

I was not cuffed, but made to "spread 'em" while they took everything out of my pockets. Did it rough too, so I'd make a move of "resisting." I did not. I wanted to rip their lungs out. I did not.

Put in the back of the hot squad car. While they ransack my car.

Finally, they said, you are free to go.

I said nothing and left.

Now, I SAY-----

"Die Hard AND WITHOUT HONOR, MEANINGLESS

DEATHS!!!! PAINFUL TOO! YOU CAPITALIST SCUM

SWEINHUNDS!" "DIE!"

ANDRE S LANGE MD

The Pain Exchange

Lately my mind has been like a "phone bank," or whatever they used to call those places in the old days, where if you wanted to place a long-distance call, you got connected to an operator who'd talk to you, then plug your wire into a hole that connected you to either the person you were trying to call or to another such operator, who'd then connect you. Except, instead of connecting a call, it is like a phone bank of pain. I think a thought--that leads to a memory trace or to a group of associations to that idea. Those inevitably are plugged into the associated pain server. A massive feedback flood of pain rushes to my thalamus.

I instantly try to "hang-up," to disconnect literally, the thought that led to so much pain, way too much to stand. But it won't let me hang up! It won't let me disconnect. I am STUCK literally and figuratively with all this pain. So, then my mind goes on a logic-search--how to stop this process?--how to short-circuit this crappy pattern? First--how long has pattern been occurring? Well--at least since 2004...no wait, likely since ~1998. In some form, since 1998 it has been going on, but it has grown much worse, much more intense since 2004, and likely worse since 2009.

To make matters more complicatedly agonizing, when it connects to the "pain-association cortex" areas, it also runs just a few side wires into holes that lead to.....of all things-----------pleasure. So, the things that bring pleasure also bring pain. But I am thinking these thoughts first and foremost to feel the associated good feelings--like the pleasure, the laughter, the happiness. What has happened to the associated emotional charges that are/were connected to my memories? How has it happened that memories that used to provoke only great positive associated emotions now--the same memories---when I try to cheer myself up--lead me further down the rabbit hole of agony?

It is like someone has gotten into my memory like a computer virus does to one's hard drive, and mucked with my thought/memory---feeling-associations and changed the ratios of good to bad and pleasure to pain.

How does one change these back? Any neurohackers out there know a way to put right the associations and feelings that are supposed to be matched with the thoughts?(PM me.) Do you have to know how to write "emotico-java?" The thing my mind naturally starts doing is to avoid the thoughts all-together--that is, its one and only log of what used to be known as "happy thoughts." It is avoiding all of those (its only source of pleasure) because they are now INCREASING pain instead of alleviating it. So, then the mind kicks back in and says "if happy thoughts-files have been corrupted, then you are fucked!----the best you can do is meditate. Have no thoughts." Thank God for it coming up with this idea. It appears now to be the only solace.

Life Vs Art

Somewhere, it is said, in some movie titled I-can't-recall (and certainly in a book, prior to that I am sure....)

That life imitates art.....or, or was it, art APES life...well goddamimmit, it was one or the other............and I pretty sure it was conceivably not the former.

Cue music now (Phil Collins "Sue sue psuedio!" rolls with credits.....)

Jan 2010 (the year the HAL-9000 redeems himself)

Argument With Self

I am posting an argument I have been having with myself,

not really for public consumption, but just maybe to help me

figure what to do or not.

it regard the 'appropriateness" or 'inappropriateness"

of posting a chapter of Apeshit that i wrote a long time

ago, about events that occurred in 1986 in Italy.

It is a very difficult subject, and is exquisitely

personal. But, memoirs tend to be that way.

Nevertheless, the content of the story is well

unsettling to say the least.

I am Not afraid about pissing off someone else

involved in the memory/incidents, but the

general reader may (wrongly) jump to the

conclusion that what is related is "just too

far out to be real," then dismiss the rest of

the book that is nowhere near THAT weird.

So, one argument is--well you already wrote it

and it helped YOU to purge the scary difficult

memories and WRITE it up.....so you might

as well put it out there.

The other counter argument is that folks

of limited or conventional knowledge will conclude

that the writer is a nut.

It is always very dangerous to be perceived

as crazy.

It is very dangerous and nearly certainly

leads to persecution, even torture.

So, you see why this particular episode of my

life that occurred in Italy one night, might

be a hard thing to consider really putting

into print.

Yet, a recent movie was made about the

very same subject matter,

which was very accurate,

and maybe THAT indicates that the

general public COULD accept reading

such a thing. (?)

the movie I refer to is, the new

Milla Jovovich film

"The Fourth Kind."

I plan to put up a review of that,

likely on my other website,

News, Rants, Reviews, Etc.

Unsure what to do about the

Padua chapter.

Will meditate more on it...

he says as the flame on the candle

grows to three times its

previous size and height.