Postcards from Planet Analogue
by rsbakker
So, I’m slowly emerging from my analogue cocoon. Imagine no internet interaction for almost a year… In quick succession, I turned 50, concluded my 33-year narrative obsession with the publication of The Unholy Consult, and achieved my 20-year theoretical goal with the publication of “On Alien Philosophy.” On the down side, my arthritis had worsened to the point where mowing the lawn became something I could only accomplish on ‘good days’—where taking four ibuprofens at a time was the rule, not the exception.
Change was upon me, whether I liked it or not. Only the form was in question.
At first, I started working on The End of Meaning, a non-fiction book attempting to sum the abstruse matters we’ve covered here in a manner that would be generally accessible. But my house is over 130 years old, so I also had a long list of renovation projects I wanted to complete. My arthritis lent a ‘now or never’ urgency to these projects—so I forced myself to persist despite the pain and my lifelong aversion to renovations. I grew up encircled by gutted walls. I’ve demolished. I’ve roofed. I’ve framed. I’ve spent entire afternoons straightening bent nails!
I was convinced that my appetite for construction would quickly peter out, and that my hunger to write would consume all—the way it always has. I replaced my rear screen door with a gorgeous glass one I got on clearance. Since parts were missing, I was forced to cut and hammer an old eavestrough nail into a spindle. So, there I was, pounding nails once again! The thing is my youthful alienation was nowhere to be found. The feeling of accomplishment I got installing that door was nothing short of ridiculous.
Next on the list was repairing the roof of my 130-year-old barn. Certainly, that would send me scampering back to the computer screen!
No such luck. The job sucked ass, to be sure, but I felt… invigorated, I guess. Renewed. Taking four ibuprofens had become the exception once again.
I began rethinking things. All the time I’ve spent pondering ancestral neglect structures had made me nostalgic for the analogue cognitive ecologies of my youth. But were they so idyllic as I remembered?
So, every morning after delivering my wife to work and my daughter to school I set to work rebuilding my old barn from the inside out. I accessed the web only via my phone, and then only to do those things I could do in the analogue days: buy books, research how-to, check the news and weather. I neglected everything else—to my professional and interpersonal detriment I’m sure! There’s no way to sort the effects of physical labour from the effects of an analogue neglect structure, I know, but I’ll be damned if they didn’t seem to be of a piece. Working with your hands means working with brute matter. After a lifetime spent sculpting smoke, continually arguing the reality of my creations, the determinacy and the permanence of my work, let alone the immediate understanding it evoked in others, were blessed indeed. Nothing need be questioned. Nothing need be defended. For once, it was what it fucking was.
Matter has no voice. The tools we evolved to manage it run as deep as life itself, whereas the tools we evolved to manage one another only run as deep as we do. And man-o-man, does it show.
Now, I have a swank office in the loft of an antique barn. More importantly, I’m down to one or two ibuprofen a day—if I remember to take them at all. I feel ten years younger.
So, forgive me my absence, or my awkwardness crawling back into my old digital cockpit. Sometimes you need to go missing for a while, lest you go missing for good.
welcome back
Thanks, Scott.
Welcome back. Thought the Whirlwind had caught you.
I am the Whirlwind.
Thanks Feanor
Sounds like you’ve been having a great and rewarding time, which is the best of all possible worlds for what we might’ve been speculating about your absence!
Thanks vivimancer
Looks great. It’s great to hear you are feeling better. As much as I dislike it, I started going back to the gym a few times a week, seems we have to move it or lose it.
In the meantime, I “accidentally” wrote about 5,600 words on my thoughts about Eärwan souls (on the tSA forum), then realized I’d just crafted some bastardized version of Hegel, then fell into the rabbit hole that is The Phenomenology of Spirit. I’m still yet to find my way out…
We’re still here/there, still waiting for TNG to come and completely invalidate all our theories of what we thought we knew, and/or what we know we didn’t. I guess it’s a bit selfish, but glad to see you around these digital parts again…
Thanks H. Nothing like a blister to show the way out of Hegel!
Have you seen Gallager’s take on Hegel and EEEE approaches to cognition? Friston is also having a Hegelian turn of sorts. (See his article on consciousness and self consciousness)
No… I’ve been reading a lot, but far afield of this stuff. I always thought Friston was a step away from BBT. I will definitely check this out.
I Haven’t read it yet but I hoped to see some points of contact in this paper:
“The hierarchically mechanistic mind: an evolutionary systems theory of the human brain, cognition, and behavior”
https://link.springer.com/article/10.3758/s13415-019-00721-3
Wow.
Has it really been a yeah since I was poking holes in the Blind Brain Thoery and pissing you off! 🤣. Jk.
Wow. Your house is amazing.
Thanks landzek
Looks great, nice job!
An analogue year doesn’t sound bad. Not bad at all.
Thanks Michel
I wish you the best, though I do not know what “wishing” means
It’s the sound hope makes falling down a well.
Thanks Ji.
Welcome back buddy! I understand, I turned 68 in August so am grinding down toward the old trash bin me self; but hey we’re cooking ass before we go… changed up the old site and am working the horror tribes with a new look and feel: Dr. Rinaldi’s Horror Cabinet: https://socialecologies.wordpress.com/
Good to see you, Scott!!!
Looks awesome! The world is where we’re as old as we are. The web reduces age to wisdom, to an inaudible ‘sounds like’–and you my friend, sound older than you know! 😉
Haha! Thanks, buddy… love the new Man-Cave! Dam, looks so comfortable… and that run up the ladder library is to kill for! 🙂
Nice work there, Scott – seems like the Kinesthetic part of you felt it was time for it to have a turn at the steering wheel after years of smoke craft. And that part didn’t need to do so well to deserve a turn, but it did – that’s some really nice work! Do you have to be good at that as well? Please tell me you aren’t also making perfectly designed siege towers! Sorry to hear about the arthritis, it’s good that it’s alleviated a bit.
And basically you’ve made a wizard’s tower to agitate people from! No wonder you’re returning to the podium! 😉 Hope your family is well, good luck with it all.
Thanks Callan. I’m back to tilting at windmills for now.
I wouldn’t put it that way, but probably the kinetic part of yourself needs more regular turns doing physical stuff in order to feel grounded. But maybe that sounds like hippy talk from me! Good luck with it all.
It’s wonderful to see you back, Scott and the renovation looks awesome – my partner was totally wowed by it when I showed her the photos at breakfast. I’m obviously revealed as the slacker I am, having taken over a year NOT to clean out a spare office space, filled with family mementoes and defunct music tech.
Sorry to hear about your health issues. It sucks that we’re so frail and prone to maladies. If it’s any comfort, I’m turning 60 next month you whippersnapper!
One of the reasons it pays to hang out with old dudes!
It took me ten years to get started on that barn. Just sayin.
Welcome back, brother! You missed nothing online, really, except a steady stream of the grotesque, the absurd, and the death of hope, so don’t worry about it too much.
I rediscovered the joy of sound sleep, that’s how worried I was. Thanks Mats
relieved you didn’t go full Kaczynski, I kid sorry about the pain and disability I know that day to day all too well and glad that the satisfaction is outweighing the suffering, congrats on the books be interested to see where it all took you. Just more of the same out here on the intertubes but this might be of interest:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/sep/07/jeffrey-epstein-mit-funding-tech-intellectuals
Thanks Dirk. Bin following this quite closely: Minsky was heartbreaking, but Ito is both more definite and less clearly immoral. Lending cover and cultural capital to a sexual predator is one thing, putting that predator’s capital to good social use is quite another. Think of all the lives dangling with that yanked funding.
once people have decided that they are the philosopher-kings leading the way for the ignorant masses from on high all sorts of things become possible…
https://www.wnycstudios.org/story/the-stakes-history-persuasion-part-2
Welcome back! That bookcase is incredible.
Thanks. It was the spine of the operation, the thing I had to keep waiting to build.
Well, looks like we’ll have to give each other some forgiveness, because since you’ve been AFK I’ve failed in my promise to finish reading your entire body of work! But I’m still working on it, I promise! 😉
It’s a (ahem) slog to be sure.
will we ever hear an update on the books? So we know what to expect. Really amazing series but all the drama with the publisher and who knows what is confusing…
a clarification (if you have any) on what happend and more importantly what’s next would be appreciated by your fans. I am completely confused if I should wait for another series, or if it’s done and many other things
Nothing to update on the moment. I continue collecting ideas, scenes, and so on for a prequel and a sequel, but only when they arise. I recently found a good chunk of the SF novel I thought I had lost with my harddrive a couple years back–The Lollipop Factory–so I’ve been working primarily on that. I’m also back working on The End of Meaning–background reading mostly.
Earwan drums still echo through the deep, though. Never fear. I’ll let everyone know what the plan is when I do.
Great to see you blogging again. Nice job on the house!
As someone that has recently become acquainted with the “fun” of knee issues, I’m glad to hear that you’re no longer on the pharmaceutical pain management train.
Excellent news about Lollypop Factory and The End of Meaning.
(Semi-related… in light of the disastrous final season to Game of Thrones, thank you for delivering your vision in a timely manner even if it cost you some sanity.)
The loft really looks amazing. And thank you for your writing.
As a dog patiently starving for more Second Apocalypse, I’m thankful for this table scrap!
This seems faintly ridiculous to me even as I write it, given the tenuous and unidirectional nature of the artist-fan relationship, but I missed you and I worried about you. I’m glad your vacation from the life of the mind was a success.
Thanks Michael. I look forward to resuming our debates!
Congratulations on working through the pain, on your reno accomplishments, and on any writing you’ve been doing. Happy to have you back in the digital world — if it can come in a way that’s healthy for you.
Lest you think your writing is all smoke, know that I regularly use your books as weights for hold stuff down when I’m gluing it. 🙂 That said, they’re also some of the most important books sitting on my shelves, so I’m always looking for reasons to pick them up and leaf through. Gluing is just an excuse.
So long as they hold down something! The wind be blowing harder, if you know what I mean. Thanks Dave.
Welcome back!
Great to glimpse you, my friend! I am currently 4/7 of the way through a re-read of TSA and am more impressed with it than I’ve ever been before, if that’s possible. I wish I’d been taking notes from the start, since I keep finding myself drafting outlines in my head for some sort of exhaustive critical reading of the whole shebang. Knowing me, it could possibly stretch to book length!
Say hi to Sharon for me! And your girl must be, what, 11? 12? Sweet Seju!
Roger! Let me get this straight: you’re undertaking a second Slog?
I’m gearing up for my own umpteenth next spring.
A third? Or fourth? I’m a Veteran of the Slog, my friend!
While hoisting drinks with my committee after my dissertation defense, I had occasion several times to utter the formula, “To the Slog of Slogs!”, which confused everyone in the room. I kept waiting for someone to ask me what the hell I was talking about, but no one did, so I just kept saying it.
Speaking of slogs, now that I’m free of academia (for the moment, anyway), I’ve begun (gasp) reading for pleasure. Besides TSA, I’ve finally picked up Proust — which I was led to believe would be a tiresome slog, but which I find, at least so far, utterly enchanting.
As a zealous fan of everything you write I completely forgive you your absence. Your office looks amazing, and goddamn it’s good to see you posting again. I can almost feel how refreshed and reinvigorated you are, and like all the rest of your readers I’m eagerly awaiting whatever comes next (The End of Meaning book you mentioned sounds biblical, I can’t wait to evangelize). 🥰🥰
Thanks James! I’m aiming more for alarming bathroom reading than the Bible though…
You make it sound like the Bible wouldn’t be terrific alarming bathroom material!
Welcome back! Drink lots of water! Ibuprofen can be surprisingly hard on the kidneys…
Good to know you haven’t left the internet forever! Thanks so much for all your writing, please keep us posted on when/if more is coming. In the meantime, congrats on your home construction. I’ve done a bit of that myself, and I strongly agree that it is both difficult and satisfying.
Sup, man. Divisionbyzero aka voidsincision here.
I was worried that da gout took your crazy ass out.
Over the past year I watched pancreatic cancer catabolize my mom’s body down to nothing. I doubt she had a couple grams of skeletal muscle mass on her body. Looked far worse than any concentration camp victim pictures I’ve seen.
She was diagnosed the same time as Alex Trebeck from Jeopardy. She refused pain meds most of the time because she thought that she had allergies to opioid narcotics. She went for probably half a year with no pain medicine at all. She was the only person in the chemo infusion wing who was crying in agony.
She died morbidly depressed. Docs said she could very well have been brain dead by the time she died but there was no way of knowing because repositoning her to do an MRI could have killed her. The last few minutes after I told them to shut off the vasopressors and ventilator felt like an aon. Had to watch my poor mom drowning in the breakdown products of her own body from the infernal assault of the cancer.
What a fucking nightmare. Today I just trashed all her medical supplies and anything that I associated with her cancer. I was going to donate it but I am like that shit just has to go to the fucking trash never to be seen again.
I’m with you. Pancreatic cancer overcame my step-father this summer. Still hard to talk about.
Keep in mind the shambling professors one can encounter on any Western campus, the middle aged, male Caucasian Arts professors to be precise. They are all engaged in their various projects, their family lives and worldly activities, but at their core, you can see that they cannot validate any of it. The great detachment and mental halving of the modern intelligentsia is remarkable.
On the one hand, we have what certain crowds would classify as, ‘cultural marxists’ the ‘men of learning’ who proclaim a great aversion and contempt for European bloodlines and history, the very ones they themselves are a product of. They will desperately pander to the tide of progressivism in an effort to stay relevant with the prevailing moralities of this age. And then, these same men can often be seen trafficking in circles almost solely composed of ‘typical suburban white’. The mental dichotomy and profound detachment from ideology and everyday reality is apparent. An old mocking term, ‘champagne socialist’ comes to mind when viewing these types.
And of course, we can view the philosophers, many of these types have descended into the depths of intellectual rabbit holes, existential nihilism, pessimism, or at the very least an altogether cold and brutal appraisal of humanity and existence. These same types will then be seen walking to the market, engaging in small talk with clerks, and casually sharing a hot drink with their spouse.
It is certainly true that a few of these types justify their behavior with the intellectualized attitude “I am simply trudging through this confused existence because I just might as well”, in a sad mockery of a Hemingway like ‘romantic but doomed perseverance’, but that is an attitude almost too wretched to fathom. Instead, it seems that most of these types, similar to the previous, live a life of supreme detachment. They compartmentalize their dark ideology only to unleash it in certain circumstances and settings. But for the most part, the life of the typical decadent, upper middle class Caucasian man, with perhaps a sprinkling of ‘everyday intellectual eccentricity’, is their reality.
It would be amusing to see these appraisals turned into a “what I think I am / doing” / “what my friends and family think I am / doing” /”what I am actually / doing” posters
Violet Beauregarde: “Spitting’s a dirty habit”
There is something really satisfying about working with your hands that just doesn’t come from typing or writing. Not to say those don’t have their attractions too. But lately I’ve taken up woodworking as a hobby and when I finish a piece it’s so visceral. It makes me wonder if there is some truth to the concept that part of us still wants to be in the jungle.