"Hell, there are no rules here - we're trying to accomplish something." - Thomas A. Edison
"I have found that people who can successfully resist temptation invariably lead depressingly stunted lives." — C.D. Payne
"So don't weep for me now, my friends, because science insists that I have not died.
Energy just always changes state and I refuse to believe that human consciousness is the sole exception to this universal law."
- Mark Millar
"Do only butterflies die in flames? What about those devoured by the flames within them?" - E.M. Cioran

Friday, November 5, 2010

Eponymity

Finally saw Inception.  So, a theory within the film is that when in the dreamscape (and unaffected by heavy sedatives) the method to return to the real world is death.  Also, if I'm on a similar plane, i.e. not the most essential level, then I am consciously unaware of my predicament.  Something has influenced the rules here.  Something has constructed a maze precluding death as a viable ;-j escape hatch.  In fact, we're all taught that death is to be avoided at all costs, despite the fact that individual and aggregate demise is inevitable.  We're taught to keep playing the game.  Despite the seeming fact that the lexicon of philosophical thought is complete, ideas occur to me (including the notion of death as the path to ultimate reality) as if a personal synthesis of diverse information and then appear within cultural context (as that theory in the flick).  Collective unconscious?  A barely plausible construct to explain the much simpler explanation of a single consciousness influencing all machinations.  The question is simple: how do I know I'm not "dreaming?"  Apply whatever analogy, religious or otherwise.  The answer is even more basic: I don't.  I can't.  Under no circumstances can I come to this understanding without the hand of an omnipotent being reaching in.  There's always an architect.  Ask the Wachowskis.  How long can the noumena fail to appear before I channel my own train?  The top just keeps spinning.

2:30 pm: As I've ranted before, the world seems to be spiraling down the drain before my very eyes.  The great proportion of the populace seems much more attuned to mockery than actuality, to television than the streets outside their windows.  The line between fantasy and reality continues to blur; the ramparts of the tangible life crumble to the sea.  The seams tatter and the edges fray.  It is very much like this vision cannot endure, as if transition is imminent.  I suppose that the ending is the same either way, but can my soul survive the journey?

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