A Brief Note

September 22, 2008 at 9:51 pm Leave a comment

No, it’s not about my briefs, even the ones that don’t [whatever:  the thing that’s advertised variously].

No note today or yesterday depending upon how you view it because I was variously busy.  Rose gets to do the endoscopy bit.  The landlady was at least verbally being assailed for having taken a rat and finding it a new home (if you want details comment or something; I’m also oregonnerd at gmail whatever com).  After having been supposed to be out on the fifth, tenth, or twentieth depending upon tellers of tales.

Finding out fascinatingly enough that open BSD has found the complete OS on the external disk drive and wants to run it.   I just somehow don’t think a 32-bit machine can run a 64-bit OS, although the reverse is true.  Even if the 32-bit is double core, there are times when 32+32#64.   I think.  Besides which it’s a clean OEM XP PROf (no crapware) and this is a Dell.  It increasingly looks like what actually blew on the other machine was the power supply, in retrospect.  Too bad I no longer have a VOM.  Whatever.  I really do want a double-core 64-bit (quad-cores are still unreasonable, last I looked, and dual-core at 3 gig with over-clockable is nice).

I still am writing on what I started well before I graduated from high school.  I was tested at having enough education to graduate from high school in junior high.   (I was reading Plato at 9.  You would have been too, if you were adopted into the family I was.  Look at my purported siblings now.  My “sister” is in a lockdown facility of some sort because she’s lost it, and I somehow ceased having any interest in knowledge about my “brother” when I found out he was a repeated pedophile.  Pederast.  Something slimy that you’d find under a rock and put rock salt on.  Whatever.  They are actually my first cousins.  I no longer have their stepfather’s last name, and my aunt has been dead for a decade.  Mix in the fact that supposedly the whole lot were puritanical Christians (Calvinists, actually:  Google it if you want).   And with the quietly unstated attitude that I must be damned because I was illegitimate.  “Absolute predestination” is what they call it.

What I began studying then as I could, and seriously once graduated from high school (in the Navy and afterwards) was the class that doesn’t exist.  The honest ones, who still can’t manage to be rich, to find jobs that pay and last.  [I have PTSD:  I have problems with attitude toward myself, too.  I had a Top Secret clearance during the Vietnam war and worked under George Steele, the admiral who ran it, for the last three years of it.  I said nothing and did nothing to stop it.  I was overwhelmed by fear of the NSA.  Now I don’t care.  I live in pain.  And I can’t work any more.  But concentrating on things like this helps.]  The ones, all too often, who just don’t sell out.  The ones society has to have, to exist.

There are the theories behind it, too; hypotheses I should say (since they’re actually untestable); of reality, truth, means of testing; what intelligence means, social patterning and valorization, modal perspectives (a la Dooyeveert although I came up with my own version before encountering his) especially as centered and determined by nodes–methods of definition especially with regard as to whether inclusive or exclusive…how experience could be classified, lingual and linear as opposed to prelingual consciousness, presumable nature of societal consciousness, development of society–task-related as directly opposed to class-related protocols…and that’s what I’m scribbling about, after 40 years.  I also feel fairly safe from the NSA in anything that might slip out because now it was over thirty years ago.

At this point I have about thirty pages handwritten that probably represents a hundred pages once typed out–because the notes aren’t the thing itself, so to speak.  I don’t know how to present bits and fragments except as I have.  It’s been a painful day.  Life goes on.

–Glenn

Entry filed under: philosophy, science fiction, writing and thought. Tags: .

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