Tuesday, February 16, 2016

"A Multinucleate Musing"

The xenophyophore is a macroscopic multinucleate amoeba populating the abyssal plains, a paradigm case of what scientists term “abyssal gigantism”.

Scale is not a spatial construct, but indicates a logico-causal domain of production – the macroscopic is perhaps the furthest thing from the macrocosmic one can imagine. Each relevant sense protrudes in such a manner that its center is strictly indiscernible. The multinucleate is therefore a hodge-podge of essences, each and every one possessing, the scientists assure us, a common ancestor (maybe the most common of them all). According to legend, this ancestor could scarcely hold all its genetic material, and is now much deteriorated. Its uniquely flat and utterly unimaginative structure has led some heterodox researchers to posit their own presuppositions and tout the result as formally equivalent.

A hideously overnourished shoal of squids inexplicably commits suicide on the beach. Entropy remains more or less unchanged.

It is in the nature of beings to secrete a thin shell about themselves as a guarantee against non-dualism, the dull inertia of the border providing perhaps the only limit between a membrane and a second membrane. The system of objects is held together by separation, without which Nature's laziest taxa would be forced into a vicious state of mutual presupposition, not a static equivalence but an irregularly-beating transcendental organelle of uncertain function. Life-cycles of feeding, mating, and molting proceed from even the most globular adolescent and ensure (in that case) a most remarkable ability to set self-relations into eternal motion. The enlightened gene-stealer is nothing compared to the falsified dwellers in singularity. Far more noble, however, is the refusal of one's shell in the name of giving someone else a home.

The gnostics believed in an emanationist mystical philosophy wherein God produced successive pairs of Aeons called “syzygys”. Jacques Lacan likes the number 3.

An inexcusable anachronism exists in any thought of the Two, contingent and negotiated oppositions notwithstanding. A quintuplicity is undoubtedly the way to proceed, a double structure of both contraries and contradictories (the semiotic square) offset by a transcendentalizing/de-substantializing fifth element. Though comparisons with the fabled quintessence are unavoidable, our fifth element is in no wise a completion. Rather more like an expansion, the fifth element is the principle of traversal of rationalisms, in other words the principle of pagan permutations. Therefore our formalization is equally a breakdown of form, indicating the absolute distance between one constructed constellation and its nearest neighbor.

Having diverted the entirety of their admittedly non-existent resources to the manufacture of the secret ray of the moon, an obscenely sticky substance much too big for them, the micro-fascists had no remaining energy for use in growing to a healthy size.

What's big is small, and what's small is small (but not a bit smaller than the big). Time would be the smallest thing if it weren't for space, which, according to the very ugliest scholar now in existence, is the very definition of a small thing. The gleeful dissemination of the portable microscope was made possible by certain arche-industrial manufacturing techniques, spotted on his very first attempt by the absolute tiniest of right-wing nationalists. The problem with this picture is of course that every operation of thought, every synapse of whatever size, effects an embiggening, a loss of predicative information through successive ideation. As sad as it may be, our miniature industrialist hatemonger shall remain microscopic for the rest of time, for the miracle of one substance.

Descartes' true radicalism was his mind-body dualism, which he believed to constitute an unbridgeable gulf. Contemporary thinkers, by contrast, often prefer theories of complex interrelation.

There are some branches of knowledge which are reserved exclusively for troglodytes. Being unable to think with their brains with any proficiency, they instead make lists to think for them. Their entire civilization has been consumed by the making of lists. While it is easy to make fun of the frog-legged metaphysicians, in actuality they have both asked and answered questions the singular beauty of which no one, including the most bulbous of their wizened scribes, can sketch upon a page.

The tesseract is the preferred geometrical figure of the anti-cosmic satanist.

All thinking, it has often been said, is either geometric or algebraic. Those who think for the sake of thinking, on the other hand, affirm that thinking is equally, in all parts, at all moments, all of its possibilities. There is speculative imagination just as there is speculative reason. The regime of thought is governed by an infinity of axioms, predicates, intuitions – in other words, thought governs itself. Thinking is the self-absolutizing and self-actualizing activity, with no further necessary determinations.

An axiomatic formal system of considerable strength can be constructed using only a few axiom schemata and a single rule of derivation, typically modus ponens, a.k.a. conditional elimination. A single axiom schema constitutes an infinite number of axioms, calling into question the supposed foundational simplicity of the system.

Foundation is the making-absolute of LOGOS. Wandering up a chain of universal derivations, one eventually comes face to face with the paradoxes of self-reference. A self-interpreting system always does so poorly. God did not deign to enact such folly, preferring instead a meaningless and infinite deduction, no more damning for its impossibility.

Some philosophers think that reality itself is a social construction, but nonetheless real. Others accuse them of inexcusable idealism. Still others accuse those accusers of naive realism. When will it end?

Interpretation is one mode of thought which cannot be defeated, but neither can it win. Of course, not every giving/gift of meaning is identical to the one before it, though sometimes I do expect a joke. Every word that has ever been expressed is both ductile and malleable to an infinite degree. Signification is, contrary to popular belief, the only non-speculative function of language, including such apparently mundane occurrences as forgetting a word or saying “hello” when one only meant to hiccup. But when one goes to make a pun and instead burns oneself to the very bottom of the calcinator...

Ex Contradictione Sequitur Quodlibet.

Readers are urged to do some lab work with their very own Specially-Modified Generic Formalysis Machine. This most astounding apparatus takes inputs and produces outputs just like a simple function. Casting axioms, propositions, beliefs, images, dreams, will, words, and everything else into the apparatus produces the desired feedback loops of speculation, (non)relational emanations, asymmetrical essentializations, irreversible derivations, and everything else. It goes without saying that certain incantations improve efficiency, while others proliferate unpredictable byproducts.

[First published in the Project NONA poetry chapbook entitled Parts of a Feather.]

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