The Ribbon of Extremes ~ Yves Tanguy
it is a convoluted process, this maintenance of memory, especially when the body has no input to the process, it being no longer a sensory apparatus.
for instance: i can remember the birth of my children and the love of my wife in technical detail but i need to superimpose just the right measure of the visual memory of my diseased body and the associated pain in order to lend gravity to the full memory.
there are times [and time is an resource of which i appear to have a limitless supply given that i have no evidence of mortality] there are times when i despair that my past life is nothing more than fabrication; a construct designed to hold my mind together; emotional string and glue for time’s own gravity.
i do fear what that would imply: that i am some construct; some mechanoid in a cybernetic egg.
this i refuse to believe.
what vengeful universe would create so unjust a scenario?
and for what purpose would such a clinical soul be primed?
stop
i must maintain equilibrium since all is connected to me and with distress comes escalation; the music tends to chaos and the colours fade to grey; all of my constructs fade to insignificant trinkets.
for instance: i can remember the birth of my children and the love of my wife in technical detail but i need to superimpose just the right measure of the visual memory of my diseased body and the associated pain in order to lend gravity to the full memory.
there are times [and time is an resource of which i appear to have a limitless supply given that i have no evidence of mortality] there are times when i despair that my past life is nothing more than fabrication; a construct designed to hold my mind together; emotional string and glue for time’s own gravity.
i do fear what that would imply: that i am some construct; some mechanoid in a cybernetic egg.
this i refuse to believe.
what vengeful universe would create so unjust a scenario?
and for what purpose would such a clinical soul be primed?
stop
i must maintain equilibrium since all is connected to me and with distress comes escalation; the music tends to chaos and the colours fade to grey; all of my constructs fade to insignificant trinkets.
9 comments:
so this is the blue or red pill thingy..lol
Do we have to answer those two questions?lol
ok hum..yes or..no.
Don't know about Robocop.
But we will know in the next episode,right?Right?
I must leave now!
Claiming an identity within a disembodied memory seems like what happens when I forget that the cerebral play by play I do on the gestalt of my cells' recollective activity is not an action, but my imposed interpretation of what goes on with or without my will, awareness or permission.
Candie: no pills necessary - just say no ;]
Yodood: convoluted :) but yes, a subjective interpretation based on recalling data that was save at the time?
'Tis this maintenance of memory I find( in myself) most difficult. Each one has a different trigger, that when pulled causes its release.
UBERMOUTH said...
Deep. Disturbing. Fantastic.
I could only wish my past were [and future past] memories were artificial implants. Through sheer will, I would conjure up better ones.
* The above deleted comments were mine. The first, I had to edit. The second Blogger jumbled. :0
Subtorp: Memory maintenance is not included in the corporate budget :)
Ubermouth: I know what you mean ;} thanks for visiting
Pisces, apparently memory isn't included in some corporate budgets, either. Alas, 'tis true...
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