Bigsley the Oaf

sum murmur summary sudden sadly sagging

Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 30, 2010

I feel a murmur in my heart, literally. I feel obsessed and strung-out and strange. I keep trying to contact people but no one responds. I feel like maybe I’ve drifted way away from what people think of as acceptable social interaction methodologies. I don’t even know if I’m honest, anymore. Ah, well.

I haven’t written anything in a while. I have had so many ideas, but somehow I don’t care enough to write them down. I wrote a few things when I was drunk, then that thing about FISH (wtf?), but that’s been just about it.

I’m worried about the heart. It murmurs and then I can’t breathe and then my head hurts. I hope there’s nothing wrong with my heart. Did you know I’m a hypochondriac? Probably good to get this figured out before going back to Moscow.

It feels like I’ve really started to plumb the depths of nihilism. Today I read a Wikipedia article on “anti-humanism” and I really felt distant. Am I really an anti-humanist? Most of the people listed in that article as anti-humanists (Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Derrida, etc.) are pretty near and dear to me, intellectually speaking. But do I really think of “man” as “lesser?” Probably this is the reason that I don’t get along with people so well. Or perhaps the converse is true. Why is it so hard to figure out converses and converse converses these days? Why is everything overbearing and difficult?

Even the cat is tired.


discomfortability FISH

Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 21, 2010

Reference, reference, reference, social nausea feels like pure reference, nothing but reference, reference to this, to that, to that meaningless bit of fluff on the shirt sleeve, to the television show, really, the television show, that you were watching last night, with your family, with your wife, and your children; conversation drifts here and there but doesn’t catch, it’s like a wet handshake, it’s like wet socks and nowhere to take them off, it’s like a limp wrist. There are escapes, but the escapes are all oblivion, or extraordinary, and it’s difficult to live extraordinarily for too long; the universe is a miser, really, have you noticed that it doesn’t let a single thing go, a single fact slip, a single certainty become even fuzzy, every debt must be paid in full and then some.

Reference, reference, reference, we’re spinning you and I, caught uncomfortably against each other, smooshed like children at the bottom of the ball pit, against each other, but indifferent to each other, wondering when the obligatory talky time period has ended, wondering whether there’s a hot girl at this party, wondering where the oblivion is hiding at. Reference your friends, your hair, your achievements, reference references, loads of them, complex encodings of references, reference reference encoding schemes, reference that, and this, and this post. Reference something because you’re nothing, and we can’t both be nothing.

It’s uncomfortable to be the only live one in the room, but it’s more uncomfortable to be the only live one in the world, the only fish flopping, caught in a glint of reflected refracted infinitely complicatedly spawned mountain light, thrown on the shore and whipping to survive just a little longer, not knowing you’re dying, eyes staring blank into an alien sky.

It’s uncomfortable to use the word only, the word exceptional, the word reference; it’s uncomfortable to live, to breathe, to be full of snot and puss and to know you’re going to die but not know when. It’s uncomfortable, how many things there are to be referenced. It’s uncomfortable knowing that the reason you’re referencing the things that you’re referencing is incidental, just the slippery wheel of fate pushing its treads down into your heart/brain/mind/soul/spirit/ghost, just the wonder at the moment, at the resolution of chaos into something arbitrary and always pointing. What you reference and say and think and even reading this it’s all arbitrary, there are too many choices, there is too much content, there is and has always been and always will be, we’re just fish caught in a thousand different nets, we’re just fish, we’re just fish, we’re just fish.



Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 18, 2010

I write though and because of the impossibility of touch at this desert hour. I walk these lanes with hands drawn in tight around my heart. Guarding it. Take it, please, and touch it. Make me feel an anything. I would even ant-crawl towards the anything something you gave to me. Just touch and let it end, please. Please.


Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 18, 2010

My world is capable of breaking at the edges and that breakage can spread inside and suffuse any and all substance which my world consists of. It’s possible that disease is simply the existence of such foreign particles which the smooth manifold of my entire existence is incapable of coping with. The incapability of a system to cope with a type of truth is itself the propensity to fell disease. Thus disease is intrinsic to a structure which is possibly diseased. It is a truth lying in wait. As such, disease is not to be feared. It is true and possible. True and possible things are not to be feared. The whole universe is reflected in every part of every possible manifestation of the universe. And so on.


Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 18, 2010

There is peace
Though peace is not for us

Peace amidst war is such superficiality
It is only the possibility of stillness in a universe rife with change

Or perhaps the recognition of that rifeness
An acknowledgement of the impossibility of stillness is peace

A belief that the impossibility of stillness is the fact
Can bring a sort of stillness

But perhaps even on this second-order plane there is not stillness
Perhaps our understanding of the changing nature of things is itself always changing

And knowledge of this change is peace
But is also changing and so on

And our knowledge of all of these changes and the changing nature of our understanding thereof
Is peace

And so on and so on
And so on and so on

And we are but the serpent who bites its own tail
And wrestles with itself in the midst of a great gulf

And distancing ourselves from ourselves
Ourselves from that outside ourselves
Cannot bring it

And truth and effort and love
Cannot bring it

We are it if we are it
We touch peace if we touch peace

It is outside and longing
Always humming
Always waiting
Very possible
Still and loving


Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 11, 2010

Porcelain develops cracks and a seedling
Releases content that was there
Before it was a seedling and was
White before
White was

Real as the Image of the Virtual

Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 2, 2010

Just watched the first half of “Zizek: The Reality of the Virtual.”

The crux as far as I can tell is that complex systems have three distinct modes of consumption:

First, imaginary – namely, the consumption of an image as emotional impetus (you see food -> eat it). The image is “consumed” and turned into individual action.

Second, symbolic – namely, the construction of systems with self-referential/distributed attributes collectively referred to as X (“existence of food” -> build food factories). The symbol is “consumed” and turned into collective action (individuals acting with respect to one another).

Finally, real – namely, the construction of systems with with self-refential/distributed attributes tied to some identifiable X (“the actual jew” -> anti-semitism). The actual is “consumed” and turned into mass action (somehow more coherent than collective action).

The metaphor is that you take the thing (be it an image, a symbol, or an actual), put it in a cage, and then somehow torture it to propel yourself “forward.”

Daily Affirmation

Posted in Uncategorized by bigsleytheoaf on December 2, 2010

damn i just fucked someone in the ASS at go
like total fucking destruction
and they were 2dan too