EDIT: A previous version of this was unkind, perhaps too much so.
Not a lot of philosophy stands out to me. It feels like, since the Greeks, we’ve gotten pretty bogged down in proofs and formulations, with very little to show for it. Of course, the hell do I know? Some things have stood out to me, though. So follows, in no particular order, a short (living) list of things I have found that inspired my intrest:
Olivia crackled fiercely, enveloped in a maelstrom of energy that was as green as her eyes. It rose around her and whipped up the once calm air. Mimicking this rise, she took off. Incongruously slowly, her feet rose several metres from the sodden earth as her eyes flashed fierce with ethereal power. The unshackled force spilled out across the sky like a supercharged aurora, dancing as if it were alive and gleeful at being let free.
Galactic Council Record No. 2020
All races across the universe undergo natural selection. Few go so far as to let it run its course unchecked, though this is true of some particularly proud or warlike species like the dragonlike Yywrack, feared pirates and plunderers. Some have escaped it to varying degrees of success.
Except for one. Humanity. They have beaten it back, killed it completely. But on the galactic stage, strength came above all else.
Stealing an idea from somewhere (that I would link if I could remember where!) when I learn something worth sharing (especially if it’s from a small blog like this one) I’m going to reshare it here. This will likely evolve into a full separate section, but for now, here it is.
So, I now realise why the Jekyll theme that became the basis for the custom styles of this site included an explicit numerical font weight and it is because of some odd default choices in Safari.
I’ve just moved the site over from Jekyll to Hugo. Why? Because I have a growing vendetta against Ruby and (relatedly so) it was easier to make a webhook-based build system for Hugo. No matter what I do, I can never get RVM set up right, I can just about manage Python Venvs!
This all spiraled from trying to finish my build system, as these things do. Now every time I push to master in my git repo, the site will be automatically built and copied in place, which was the last piece missing for a self-hosted equivalent to GitHub Pages.
First: Black Lives Matter. I don’t think it is my place to say anything more than that, as a pasty white non-American.
When I first found the label ‘Transhumanism’ I latched onto it hard. I fear change, but most of all I fear loss. And what loss could be greater than that of a human life? I do see death as a disease, as transhumanists do. But the label has never quite sat right with me, and in recent reflection I think I have worked out why.
In Response To: https://whereangelsfeartotread.medium.com/double-plus-good-f393af713b95
Where Angels Fear Just ask Arona -- he'll tell you: it's not *music*, it's an *experience* Arona Jones This I didn’t get a notification for, for some reason, but damn fuckn’ straight! Still riding the high from moshing to 5FDP. What do you have against lazers though? Love me some lazooors. Where Angels Fear Medium is shit … it regularly randomly fails to notify. Arona Jones Remind me why we and Gutbloom haven’t built an alternative yet?
It has been more than a few months since I last abandoned this site. Now here I am finally back to it. And all it took was a global bloody pandemic! My particular thoughts on that are liable to come later.
This is just a heartbeat to show that I’m back, not that I ever truly left. I’m hoping to break the cycle of frenzied intrest then drifting away that I fall into with so many things.
I’m alone for New Year’s again this year. Though this time it’s intentional…I’m never much one for sentimental shit anyway. This is as far as I’ll go.
It’s been a hell of a couple of years, but for better or worse I seem to be finally running out of the semifictional pain that’s fueled so much of my writing lately. People seem to like reading about pain — like that old adage about news bad news sells.
Semi-fiction straight from my ink splashed heart Finch looked up, dazed. Smoke curled lazily around him, caressing gently. He lay at the bottom of a blasted crater with blackened walls.
The muffled voice of rationality in his head exclaimed “What the fuck was that?” Again. As it always did. Finch ignored it. Again. He got up. Again.
He was more than shaken by now, limbs screaming at him in a twisted choir.