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Ken Pepiton Feb 28
What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged
in the word
philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day,
as true a depictical actual form, as lovable
as any, though
the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image...

Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys,

would that image have cured from
mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn
drome, trap for lost boys,
never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh?
The Peter principle,
rise to the level of one's
incompetence and **** ****
and consume enough food for all Artemisis
famishished little lies, calling
more, more, more
Narrow AI, lust response,
so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays,
and the silver screen's seductive radio voices,
you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist,
Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the
one before the one
with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if

I'd known
sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain...

so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or
east, I lost my bearings

who is asking what of whom,
am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps?

We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader,
in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.
A beautiful hawk announced herself, swooped into my per-if-ery, as if to say,
watch this. She glided with the merest twitch of the tips of her wings,
down in to the valley where a mouse had moved, unaware.
Ken Pepiton Feb 1
king of all the children of prride,

a challenge

simulate the mind of christ,
imagine that,

but before that mind there were others,
fully contained

in the godhead,

the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or

withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity

springing, post clockwork world,
post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated

in virtual 2-d

a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low,

without a very sophia isticated way of folding

ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers

set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils

covering the window in the top of you head.

--- great message, I got a lot out o' that.
--- especially the worthship

seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re

demption station draweth nigh,
we all *** rrecycle by and by,

jest, decide not to lie,

ye get by. And y'kids do, too.
Rope and release
Paula Sullaj Jan 2018
D  i s c overing
Qualia and the Causal-explanatory Approach
In a day like Today
Today is Infinite
E x p a n s i o n
Ikigai(Japanese)-  "A reason for living [being alive]; a meaning for [to] life; what [something that] makes life worth living; a raison d'etre"
Let me tell you
of what once was
and what has come
to pass, the epitome
of dystopia in a land
we call home, we skip
over the names of drugs
ingested otherwise we might
be here forever, boring you
to tears with the finer
details of our sorcery.
So some psychoactives
were ingested and they
did have great effect but as
that garrulous fiend lost
himself to/in guileless
babbling about some
concomitant companion,
A friend, an event, special
he felt in the company of a
human who made him feel
like an adult, selfish octopus
what you must think of me but
why should I care/does it matter?
I do because it's what humans do
and there's some human left in me
yet, (hopefully. He's human right?)
Tell me what occurred, whatever did
happen to me
  on the banks of the Lethe?
Don't answer that.
"Not what  but why" was actually asked.
He left his tribe to expand his craft
and when he came back he found
a broken man in his stead and he
could not be rid of his fragment
so failing all else he fractured
and shattered the glass life
he had led and returned
to the land which long
ago he had once left.
My, this has been
a most meandering
experience said the
author who promptly
resigned and fell asleep
doubtful how anyone who
actually bothered to read this
most prosaic mess should have
managed. It does have a fine name
if nothing else, and undertones
of narcissism always help in
the casting of a fair spell.

Floating down this
preserved memory,
Way down on
the banks of
the Lethe
dares not
stir (up whatever
does occur), therein

we find ourselves
*asking why
should we
remember this?

What is this
you grapple
with, what
question is
it that we
might ask.
details amid most
meaningful memories
haunt me, everlasting.
The birth-throes of adulthood is alteration unto its/our own state, the formation and growth of neural connections straining our minds, the brain adapting to phenomena in space and time, deeming it experience. It is this process I reckon to be consciousness.

It was only after adolescence I could begin to understand qualia. During this period my brain was busy going through the teenage 'motions of neurochemical upheaval. My mind was far too young to understand what it intuitively grasped. Something was memorable, meaningless, its qualities stuck in mind. This was how I began to understand qualia, meaningless memories which I treasured beyond measure without knowing why, the essence of nostalgia.

During this time emotion was a mysterious thing I could only feel as coming from my own experiencing ego, not as something occurring between two animals which one alone can never understand (though the narcissist might dispute that). Take love, an attachment, certainly an altered-state, a modifier of behavior, the serotonergic system implicit in its proper function (and if we're lucky, some oxytocin).

We'll hold this for further discussion.
Now for something mildly intresting.

My introduction and use of psychoactives was typical if quite comprehensive (and of course it felt 'special', I still feel this). Fascinated by what substances could do to elicit qualia (though no doubt unable to elucidate this) I lost myself thoroughly, great attracted to the culture around them. This accompanying ethos I could not hope to comprehend took me in its stride. At first I had no reservations as to indulgence, which taught me a few hard lessons. Later I would catch a rare glimpse of this ethos in its motions, gleaming it on occasion.

These times gave rise to specific feeling, recreation followed by reading into the neuroscience brought about a knowledge of some sort. The neurochemicals represented what my experiences were founded upon but not what they were.
I knew them in theory and from practice upon my consciousness,
This knowledge stayed with me long after my 'research' had finished. I would recognise familiar mental sensations in occasional sober interactions, minor alterations in mind brought on by certain foodstuffs (or lack thereof).

What does this answer in relation to qualia?
It tells us that moments are qualitatively conditioned by the given physical constraints.
What power mind and/or brain have over each other remains to be seen, as does the will's constituents and how it comes into being. Does it boil down to binary, exponential subject-object distinctions giving rise to abstract properties? *Answers to the question of meta-consciousness continue to elude us.

We hypothesize that the given conditioning can evoke
a certain magnitude of qualia. We assert that qualia exist
to the extent that belief does (and is) but that they are ascribed
to experience by presentation rather than representation.
Belief and desire are propositional whereas qualia are proponents thereof which feedback into behavior, belief and desire.

Tentatively, we suggest that qualia might be measured in term analogous to wave patterns and spectral density while individual quale might be respective to individual neuronal constructs within the neuroplastic structure of the brain.

In this way a given pathway corresponds to a certain experience/memory.
Kirsten Lovely Apr 2014
These subcategories of articles
That separate theory from fact
Are lines that, really,
Are quite unclearly drawn.
Categories for theory and qualia
That put me under the impression
That everything is based on a conjecture
And it's all in my head.
Qualia is defined as being subject
To your sense perceptions
Brought on by stimulation of phenomena.
Theory is a system of ideas used
To explain something.
But don't we theorize everything,
Based on our qualia?
If we perceive that a rose is red,
And we theorize that this type of rose
Will always be red because we will always see it red,
Does that really make it red?
Is my red your green,
And you only call it red because to you need to call it something?
Or is that just our theory that to be comfortable
Is to fit in and be accepted by everyone?
And that to challenge what is called fact
Is to be rejected?
Where do we draw the line
In these thickly worded and sinking articles?
Is it where we can finally say that
Everything is based on theory that our qualia subjects us to?
If so, am I under the correct theory that
I really am alone?
That my sense perceptions just play tricks on me
So I don't think to hard, or go insane?
Is insanity just theory based on qualia?
Or maybe I should be under the theory
That being a thinker like this
Subjects me to the unpleasant qualia of a perceived headache.

— The End —