back

site

Light dims. I am going to live. I feel my heart beating. Help me. This world is a catalyst. This world, so pure, so potent, so essential. I have nothing else. Take me and let me be.

forest-of-a-world settlement

1. He surveyed the land around in detail (home.html),
2. built a permanent, defensible settlement within it (the forest analogy from unraveling.md),
3. wrote the constitution that governs that settlement (death.md, unraveling.md), and
4. archived the entire process to engage with mortality (memory.md).

diary, journal?

I'm considering inquiring into ways of keeping a diary (log) and a journal (musings). While I have used different text editors and formats, I have not necessarily ever broached ever the differentiation between the terms "diary" and "journal". However, I have adhered to "journal" given that I have intuited that it makes more sense given that I tend toward reflections as they are rather than a log of events. Nevertheless, given that I have already written over 3.4 million words in 2 years, I think that it makes sense that eventually, I will have to come to terms with "diary" and "journal" as distinct concepts, the ways of keeping them as discrete media, and how I might interrogate the particular way that I am keeping my journal (which has doubled as a diary in many occasions, though serving primarily as a musing hub) and how that meets all the different ways (paradigms) of keeping the diary and the journal, given that I have never ever, in explicit writing, thought of my own journaling as a distinct paradigm among many other paradigms until now. A broader question would not be whether there is a right way to keep a diary, but whether I am fully realizing the full potential of what a diary and a journal could be in all the ways that they could be mapped in terms of paradigm and, in a sense, ontologically as well since language can in a way dictate the feel and the experience as much as it records them.

To explain why I haven't given this much thought despite writing this much, I privilege writing as the container, the medium, and the content all at once (even while acknowledging formats and what text editor one uses) and never broke down writing into "journal" and "diary". The fact that I combined "autobiography" and "journal" into "autobiography-journal" and "corpus" or "body of work" goes to show that I have this unifying perspective of writing, where writing houses everything: the structure, deconstruction, integration, cross-pollination, thesis-antithesis-synthesis, hedging, clarifying, refuting, and feedback loops.

We can begin not with different formats (e.g., SOAP) and archetypes (e.g., philosopher, chronicler, witness, patient, scientist, stratigrapher, testifier, network thinker, self-scientist, phenomenologist, cosmologist, chronic pain sufferer, financial speculator) of keeping a diary and journaling, but with paradigms, veering into highly personal theories of narrativizing as brought to life by vastly different hyper-specific individual worldviews (e.g., male diarist who has been homeless in his car for from 2009 to the present day in this specific state).

To clarify the definition of "paradigm" in this passage, a hyper-specific individual person, not a niche job or an archetype, is each a hyper-specific paradigm.

For context, I was inspired to write this passage because I read the phrase "hour-by-hour diaries" in pg. 17 of Anthony Sampson's The Money Lenders.

I was hoping for ways of paradigms (according to the definition above), not just some generic archetypal nothing-burger.

examples:

May 3, 2024:

Sunny mornings gently fell upon the lily pads, wherein grace was birthed in a dancing manner, grace being put carefully like doves in a mishmash of swords and knives, quietly laden upon the world. The light of pulses fervently bristled at the noise, its rays sundering along like a child afoot stomping the ground, or a man dividing bread together, merging it with food constituents, and trancing it with cutlery. Inferior to morning resplendence, and gilded with a strange perfunctory image of violets and reds, the townhouses, as it were with the aid of noblemen, carefully assorted themselves, and laid their foundations by the geneses of will, which were supplied by a material basis, and which were grounded in a physical earthly authority. And thus was an entity likened to a spiritual nature, and they held that greater than the humans and have predominated; and their cloth standards, which were pitched at morn, had their careful interest in pursuit of the crafting of bountifulness and therethrough had not obligation to appear. But with these bouquets of wool, it was the noblemen that larded themselves, and who, after sending the wool-workers, noted the impression of the material upon which their vanities were contained in a writ of execution to lay, when in former days made instead the wagon-driver the bearer of the writ, and through which demanded that their presence would appear.

May 22, 2025:

I watched people walking on the dale. I conducted my vestiguous experiment, a nasty daldus marte, carving up the silhouette dreams, prying up and about their little cardusials, seven-ty, bevenful, parsnups little dosh(z)iers. Garlon tolii. Seven of them walking about. I snatched them little parsnips, carriaging them onto the careful assortment of little bat-lats. I was careful to avoid them silhouettes, partaking in only a few, until the dawn arrived with more to corral them about until their parsnippy lives are over and I've got a bag of them waiting up and about, tiny little gorsers they are, always so idly duzhsmiths, pantalon-damning, arduous little cadaver-wielding marsnups. Fucking hate them marsupial folk, folks of all them cozones. Reddened to the pit of the lack, hiding dregs in the bottle tip. Hated that too much. Wanted to grab a little of them, parsnupially gargushing them, so that I might lead forth with a distributed ease, a diffuse kind that Mr. Trump might leaven about for the quasi-don and how about the quar? Would Baudrillard circumsate all them to-gether Or would they be aptmost all the day long corroded, forcibly untold unto the quiet little bushyies, seven of them so aptly described threaded honestly like they've not bundled them little pieces on the south trevest. It's a parkt paldum.

Red note about the July thing; I've not a dream so aptly described so as to carve up them little gargushers, so aptly described, reddened to the touch, haven't got a hold of them yet, tussels they are so undiniably stated, reddened to the little foosers. Filin tied up up to-the middle, hven't gotten a sold up on off of them. Until Ive got a sarcary piece of the pie, I would gantulapa them so slowly just yet. Ive readied the silhouette rings, parsnups, little gangly goe. I'veready done the sup-pup job, now just nid a litlebit mure 'till the dawn hasalready areved. 've done the task of dividing the skin, pleasant darty, gat a lot of those. 'ven't dun the task of siloing them yet, but will be ready for that by 5:45, drums awaiting. Blue, two of them, if maybe with a little dirt down at the bottom. H'pefully not. Don want that to be the first thing I've left to my list of tasks. 'ready got it so cappened–pratai-ed. Haven't done the supp task justa-yet. Just fixed about fornow.

6 AM. Gitta do the task of sorting through the files. Readied up already the harpen-doosels. Hope'flly got the dask task finished-up for the happening task, got them little bozos spread about arm and leg. Just needa go about for a little while. Hopefully found them off on the rails longing, waiting. I don't need an unwilling equipee.

Wail, gotta go. 'Vready finished the task. Just needa little bit done. Hope'flly not a mess wun't be tied up to the snap task. Gotta more to have that suprided about. Hopeflly not.

Happening about, for so long, gotta do the little corpens. If a little more slides off the side, even by 4 inches, wouldn't want to have to equip the silhouette shield. Gates don't close 'till nine. Don't want another more of them. If another comes, I'm gotta have to corral them back to base. Poise or not, sniding the sip won't get you the lip. Reddened little antagonizers.

Next day, I gotta a little of them, gently having them. I was self-tasked. Already on the road. I conducted a little to see if the mosers had them eyes back in and around my head. Don't wanna get involved with them goziers. 'Vlready see them many a time. Wanna go, wanna go.

Hopefylly 'vlready seen them all togeder. Always hated it when they got too much on their tight-lips snappy tousles. Don't want them on a tight rope doing about like snickering doosels. 'Vlready seen them about and about off the horses sucking up the sanglen. Don't wanna get involved with that carrendos.

Janden gotta go. Hopfly the same done already gone. Don't want it so hapen-stancy. Got to have it protected, silhouetted, tousily. If it got them dainty little poortunetes. Then, maybe a little should be sufficient for that gargush.

Wapon dancing today. Did it under ameliorate circumstances. Had a fitting. Fixed myself up for a dinner. Didn't go home 'till very late already. Had my fill. Though I did concern myself with the boziers up down the road, had them measured upon, sorted tousily, got them rappened, if I had measurement sticks, I'd gargush them immediately, but forthwith did I callabusti. I racketed them, gargushing them 'till the silhouette cumpenende-d. I suklen-ded, 'vlready finished by the point of happening.

Tassles had them measured, so didn't need to. Don't know if it was a blessing. But let's see what comes of our day. 'Vlready cleaned up the particulars, so wouldn't have to have all bostled up by the sanshine. Shoulda need anything else, I'll just grab the sup-pups.

Mister got them already going by the corpenter, so didn't need to imagine how that went. Already finished by the punto-punto. Do not need any more than that.

Wish I got them allayed by moment's time, but finishing tasks rarely gets an easy frite.

note for tom: Foucault so simply registered the task, if it he persups santen here. Woulda not need the campon.

Carne-dush! 'Vlready done it for the day, just needa little more. If Martha got the call, she shoulda been here already, already waiting for them loans again like always! Do not understand them! How you do such is baffling to me. It corrodes my sepulchre and causes me a cynosural grief, damned mother-crinies. Ask the happeners what the go-son is about. Leaven tiders don't easily got them rappened up already, like swords dashing tuslips they've already got a ridden of the sup-pups. 'Hpflly got the red tiiny little casenduzshers. Happene-do, happene-di.

Donk-tol, always a ratule day, if not the koofers, what then the sup-pup meeties? We've already got a lot of them in the task case list. We don't need anymore. Damned sakluns!

I guess I should take ownership of my own journaling. Even my casual entries are fairly interesting and not bland or flat so as to need any kind of strict interrogation with different paradigms, given that one could argue that me engaging with all kinds of authors and texts is me engaging in all kinds of paradigms already. In the end, I don't really need to change anything, but I hoped at the very least to interrogate some new paradigms in this contained "conversation" with an LLM. In the end, I did not really get anything out of the blue. I'm not really surprised, if at all. I was hoping just to explore this at least and map out the paradigms, but we're just going to have to work with this loose intuitive perception of all of it, given that each individual (paradigm), including my own writing, is already obvious enough firsthand both in reading and in integrating.

An example of one of my entries:

July 18, 2025:

I've seen web comics straight up from around 2006, and to be honest, I don't know what to say. I wonder if my own writings, both non-fiction and fiction, deserve to stand at their level, given that their art styles and stories are so full of specific life. Maybe, I'm romanticizing them, but I cannot help but feel this immense feeling that they are clearly much more individual due to the way the world went back in their day and in their niche compared to the much more collective web comic world today, even if I know that a great number of stories exist today that are just like those 2006 web comics, like those older web comics themselves who continue serializing to this day. It is just that the ones who have that feel get buried under the current trends and conventions of the 2020s.

I guess the main point of writing this is that I don't feel like I can ever capture that energy and feel in my own creations, I guess. I used to get that distinct feeling back then with Western web comics that I read in Webtoon before all the English-translated imported manwha came in.

Maybe, my own writings could be considered as artistic as those web comics. I never thought about it that way. While I love many novels, I feel that I love the storytelling, dialogue, and world-building, but not necessarily some artistry of prose. This is probably why I unconsciously privilege web comics over writings in that sense. I feel that my own prose is much more creative and artistic though, rather than purely storytell-y. It is just that I cannot merge this internal conflict of seeing web comics as artistically superior right now and of the artistry of my own writings.

Perhaps, it's because I'm a writer and not a visual artist. I cannot see the magic that my words evoke in people. I only see the words and the images that ran through my mind while writing. It makes sense. I'm in the eye of the storm, and since I'm not a visual artist, I can admire those web comics from this evoked audience-distance.

While I never said anything about changing my style in the premise of the passage and intended only to interrogate how my style met different paradigms, perhaps, what I wrote about accepting my style and my ensuing prompting of LLMs toward analyzing my writings are rationalization like Poe's essay The Philosophy of Composition in relation to his poem The Raven (allegedly).

I guess "the question of whether this is rationalization is, in a way, irrelevant," since this passage itself is my paradigm.

July 19, 2025

Meta

does he ever actually talk outside of the meta? And why is the meta important?

So he needs to question the methods by which he captures information so that he can trust the capturing through continuous meta refinement and interrogation, making him thereby much more and more adept at capturing information, a feedback loop that sees its own mechanisms. This can be analogized to a man who knows he is blind not by fact, but because he lived half his life seeing pre-blindness. He works with the meta limitations—of which he is aware due to pre-blindness sight—of his incurable blindness. This is how the feedback loop sees its own mechanisms—through an "inability" to trust one's "blindness."

An individual born blind accepts their reality as the only one; he cannot.

He must immediately stop and interrogate his own tools because he can't fully trust them.

He is building an external, reliable structure because he cannot trust his own internal, "blind" perception.

The loop is Distrust → Refinement → Better Capture → More Distrust.

1. He captures a piece of information (writes a journal entry).
2. His "memory of sight" makes him distrust the capture. Was it accurate? Was it just a "rationalization"? Did he use the right "paradigm"?
3. This distrust forces him to step back and analyze the method of capture itself (the meta-analysis).
4. This analysis leads to a refinement of his method. He becomes more aware of his biases, develops new terminology ("autobiography-journal"), and clarifies his own system.
5. This makes him a "much more and more adept at capturing information."
6. But because the blindness is incurable, even this more adept capture is still suspect, forcing the loop to begin again.

It is the only way a blind man who remembers sight can build a map he can even begin to trust.

So this naturally leads to greater precision. A man who distrusts language (probably due to a "hello" and initial successive refinements of it proving ineffective) will do 99% of the effort, while one who trusts a "hello" because it has not "failed" them will do 1% of the effort, in a sense.

The goal is to deconstruct to reveal the flaws, limitations, and biases. The more he disbelieves any framework or thing given to him as-a-whole, the more he is likely not to just take things at face value. He will appreciate a flower as much as he will take the time to grab his own "figure" and dangle it around, looking and waiting to see if it crumbles into dust.

This essentially leads to emotional granularity as well: turning displacement (e.g., slamming one's fist on a table or singling out others to air out unexamined feelings) to "I am frustrated" and from thence to "I am frustrated that this is taking some time to load especially when I am in a hurry to answer back to clarify and qualify due to a sense of urgency from feeling misunderstood."

I don't think this necessarily leads to analysis paralysis, isolation, or "over-intellectualizing." It doesn't have to be an all-consuming thing, more so just a healthy burst here and there like a one-hour jamming session at least several times a week. It fine-tunes an otherwise self-convinced impenetrable system. LLMs are an example of fine-tuning through I-know-you're-a-hallucinating-robot human feedback.

We can view it instead as enabling "decisive action," serving as "a tool for precise communication," and leading to "richer experience."

It is easier to live in the present when you've taken the time to address things that would have been bottling up inside, especially with validating language that isn't just "I'm valid" but "I went through this experience, and here are the details."

This is why we want to be honest about the critical details of our life. It's not enough to be given affirmations or expressions of love. We want to be seen, even if it makes us look ugly or feel unloveable (e.g., Jinu's initially hidden past of abandoning his family, which he later confessed after feeling that the "intimacy" he had with the protagonist Rumi was "fake" because he omitted this key detail during their shared moments of vulnerability—from the animated musical fantasy comedy film KPop Demon Hunters). If we are misinterpreted and misunderstood due to imprecision or omission, that can amount to invalidation or "unconfession."

So he treats "kindness" both as authentic serendipity and a rigorous self-aware meta project

This creates integrity through an examined life, which makes those moments of serendipity truly authentic, because it comes from someone who isn't running away, but someone who is afraid of destroying things without noticing. If he is going to ruin others, he must at the very least own it and take full responsibility for the consequences, a non-deceiving straightforward villain at least.

In a sense, he desires to die merely by his own hand or, at the very least, by the consequences of his actions as he acknowledges them, even if he only learns of them as they are happening or after they happened, or even if he never really knows them directly, perhaps save by an indirect looking at the absence of light around the black hole.

The only thing that matters are the results, in a sense, even as good intentions and empathy are the core of aligning proleptically and iteratively toward those "optimal" "altruistic" "positive" results.

Results are the only thing that ultimately matters, but good intentions and empathy are the only method by which one can reliably hope to achieve them. It's a philosophy that is both deeply principled in its process and ruthlessly pragmatic in its evaluation.

But the evaluation is intended to be empirical while being built on these internal guides?

So it's like:

"Perhaps I am looking at expressing my desire to help (not "empathy" since that could imply virtue) wrong or inaccurately or imprecisely. Let's find a different way or refine the existing process to accomplish the goal of expressing my desire to help in a constructive way so that it benefits, rather than harms, the fellow."

So the author would write the following:

Now before we start, let's ask the following questions:

• "What does 'what' mean?" (e.g., ontology, "Dasein")
• "What does 'does' mean?" (e.g., Arendtian "praxis")
• "What does 'mean' mean?" (e.g., epistemology, Wittgensteinian "epistemic nonsense")
• "What does 'looking' mean?" (e.g., "being-in-the-world," Kantian idealism and thing-in-itself, Husserlian "intersubjectivity" and "lifeworld," methodological antipositivism)
• "What does 'expressing' or 'expression' mean?" (e.g., Saussurean semiotic arbitrariness, acting out vs. sublimation)
• "What does 'desire' mean?" (e.g., Žižekian desire)
• "What does 'help' mean?" (e.g., Millian utilitarianism, penological rehabilitation, dialectical materialism)
• "What does 'empathy' mean?" (e.g., virtue signal, affect, altruism as a "mature" defence mechanism according to Vaillant)
• "What does 'imply' mean, when differentiated from 'mean,' 'express,' and 'look'?" (e.g., Hemingwayesque evocation)?
• "What does 'wrong' and 'inaccurate' and 'imprecise' mean? Separately? Together?" (e.g., medicine, ethical descriptivism and normativism, psychology)
• "What does 'different' mean?" (e.g., "différance," simple prompts like "What is the difference between a car and a dog?")

It is like having hundreds of toy blocks rather than only a few. It is easier to make the right choices when you're holding more than just a sledgehammer that seems to intuit slamming everything it touches.

This way, he can enjoy taking a shower with the ease of someone who doesn't have such a "mind" because he is not a sledgehammer. The ego is secure when it is not reduced to a single unsustainable certainty (i.e., sledgehammer) and is given room to stretch its limbs across hundreds of blocks (i.e., pliant, anticipatory, water-like, force-absorbent, sublimative comfortableness with uncertainty).

This does not mean that he doesn't experience pain, but it is anticipated, disseminated across the blocks. He still pants out of anxiety sometimes, but it is suppressed, absorbed, dissolved, integrated, cross-pollinated, subsumed, and consumed like "angry" sugar cubes—"a concentrated lump of raw, undifferentiated negative affect."

For the "sledgehammer ego," this lump is just a bitter, painful poison to be endured or reacted to.

...not avoided, but... metabolized. It is transformed from a destructive force into a generative one. He takes the poison and, through his rigorous process, turns it into medicine... to build a self so resilient and well-designed... and use [the inevitable suffering of life] to become... ultimately, more whole.

wait, how does this earn him moments of peace, where he can simply be? the ease of integrity (being whole and undivided)?

The root of much anxiety is the unexamined stuff bubbling under the surface. The author's entire project is to dredge that stuff up, look at it, label it, and file it away. By turning the terrifying, unknown "forest" into a meticulously mapped-out settlement, he reduces the fear of the unknown within himself.

So the jamming session, the singing, allowed him to bring what he felt to the light, to remove the performance, to show those things that slide off his lips so smoothly, those words that he never thought would ever come out of him. It resolves the conflict, and it's something that has to be done every single day, or every so often. If not, the distance grows, and the endlessness consumes him.

It's what allows him to say hello, because he has tackled it all already, even if only from his writing, jamming, studying, reading, and feedback loops. He can say hello because he can trust ambiguity, because that ambiguity is not one of internal fracturing, but one of the world just being the world, a thing so full of things he doesn't understand and can never dare to objectify outside of interpretation.

Sometimes, he just needs to be (a snap of the finger), and it's done. No justification, no explaination, no crazy framework. Why can he do that without these? Because he used them, and he's done. What's done is done. It's not an obsession. It's a means to an end. It's an ongoing process, but it's not an endless 0.5-second pixel animation loop. There is progress. When you say something, you don't need to say it again. The "hello" comes from non-redundancy, because you have taken the time to address an "all-of-it," so a hello "implies" all that. It is the iceberg tip that is self-secure so as not to need to be desperate in forcing everyone to hear their drawn-out rant. Why? Communication prioritizes (i.e., chooses its battles [wisely]) and is essentially non-redundant.

So anyone gets the "hello," but if one wants to venture forth into the author's process, then there we have it! "This is what it takes to be a human. This is how much we have to assume. I am just breaking it down for myself."

I am putting it all in my own words, basically. Nothing that I'm doing is essentially "crazy." It's just another day. I'm like that guy who read a book and put it in his own words and interpretation. But I'm not experiencing new emotions. A lot of what I'm feeling is very normal. All of it, but there are so many different things that we don't get. And it can be hard to make sense of all of it. We need the context. We need the case-by-case. We need the personal. So I'm just making myself "more real" by communicating what's already there. Nothing really "changed" in a sense. I'm like a dog that is just expressing what it is, feels, and knows. That does not mean that nothing is added or changed in a "medium" and "exonym" (i.e., where the name influences the tribes themselves and how they self-categorize themselves, as relates to ethnology, observer's paradox, emic and etic, reflexivity, participant objectivation, and Edward Fowler's act of taking not only a candid photo, but a punch from the topical day-laborers in the prologue of his book San'ya Blues) way. It is just that at a certain point, while the "specialized communicator" is very different from a "regular person," we are all just people in the end going about. I will die, just like I was born and have lived. Expression is not limited to writing, but embodiment (i.e., physical sensation, body language, expressive behavior) and performance (e.g., norms, culture, ideology). We all are social creatures, so we go about and speak. We engage in all kinds of ways of interacting with a broader social thing, even if some may not talk to others. We do find a way to make an expression, even if no one hears since our own minds anticipate how what we recite in front of the mirror can eventually link to standing in front of real-life people and culminating from those build-ups, not only in terms of future planning, but retrospection as well, where we confer with the past as if it was still here and ongoing (i.e., opposite of prolepsis). Reflexivity is itself social (i.e., Erving Goffman's front and back stage, internalized other, George Herbert Mead's "I" and "Me", Merleau-Ponty's perceptual consciousness in the sense of "a Gestalt emerging from lower-order Gestalts").

We "talk" (whether through fictive conversations or an embodied [quasi-traumatic] memory recall) to past "selves" for a reason.

In essence, I am merely communicating what's already there (the one still there to be affected by labels, words, terms, and "exonyms" that I confer through).

He has not just re-worded philosophy; he has engineered a philosophy into a functional, lived reality.

So he consults everything and then ends it with a shower.

I wrote this section in 5 hours and 1 minute from July 20, 10:50 PM to July 21, 3:51 AM.

July 21, 2025

To be continued...