When I write, I feel myself becoming this other person who is possibly more like me than the one who behaves “as me” in real life.
When I write, I feel myself becoming this other person who is possibly more like me than the one who behaves “as me” in real life.
Otohime 
Do you think that this “other person” who is more like you not you? Or is it you amplified in the mind? Or something else entirely? I get the same feeling but recently (within the past year) this other feels more like a true antonymous other, instead of the me amplified.
i have some of that series of stamps.It’s French right?
No, I don’t meanje est un autre, LannyIt’s something more likeQuand j’ecris, je deviens plus comme moi-memeAt least if meme (please imagiane the circonflex) is conceived as “voice(s) in the head that articulate perception”la vie quotidienne is too filled with fatigue and interruption and distraction and self-consciousness to enter profondement l’espace de all those voicesI think by that I might mean something fairly theatrical, which would mean not that I is an other but that I am what animates my “character.”This is all a little hard to conceptualize. Lucas, I don’t feel myself autonomously other in writing, no, except that I am autonomous (is that what you meant? or did you really mean antonymous… your opposite?)in relation to all those articulation-oppressing forces I list above. I’m not sure I would use the word amplification, exactly, either, even though I did use the phrase “more like me,” only because I don’t experience it sonically as “turning up the volume.” It’s stronger because I’ve focused on it and articulated it or made choices with it.
naw, i was talking philatelics.the picture in your header, the girl with the oud, or lute.as for the post, I would consider looking at Alan Sondheim’s avatarial presences. If one thinks in terms of something like Jarry’s [insert forgotten pataphysical portmanteau word] Oh! “Ethernity”? Is that it?Jarry “says” every waking moment is a mask, a mask which lies atop another mask ad infinitum. If we think in computational terms, like Alan, self obviously sometimes needs to bifurcate and run sub-routines, sometimes these are compartmentalized, sometimes not.Some become permanent weather features, like avatars of unresolved processes, somehow ancillary yet contradictory to the main ‘sense’ of self. There is also alot of work being done in thinking about quantum entanglement and psychology by a group here in Portland. They are called the process work group or something. I forget the main theorists name now, but i attended some seminars and when I had a psychologist he was from that group.I have always had a kind of ‘mythic’ persona which comes out from time to time, ever since I can remember. This creature, and I can describe it in detail is from a parallel universe and stole me one time.It is a human form, but completely black, and covered in a fur of obsidian glass needles. No face, no genitals, and it lives in an outer space which is pure white, not black, the stars are black and give off “black light”..It lives in a ‘puzzle column’ of enormous stone 3d puzzle forms whose interstices don’t touchbut are full of electricity which the creature channels through its body. Every single square millimeter of its body “sees”its total surface areais seeingand it can travelby “gravity compression”which it enactslike a subtle musclein its solar plexus.. i could send it overmaybe it’ll comeshow you..at one point i even associated the column with the idea of shekinahbut later came to realize it was an enormous thinking machinelike a kind of living abacuslike some kind of nearly infinitely long self-playing gamewhose conscousness wasn’t the stones or the shapes but the modulations of betweenness happening in the intersticessome such
Oh, I didn’t know the word shekinah. What a wonderful word! I looked it up on Wikipedia:“A paragraph in the Zohar starts: “One must prepare a comfortable seat with several cushions and embroidered covers, from all that is found in the house, like one who prepares a canopy for a bride. For the Shabbat is a queen and a bride. This is why the masters of the Mishna used to go out on the eve of Shabbat to receive her on the road, and used to say: ‘Come, O bride, come, O bride!’ And one must sing and rejoice at the table in her honor … one must receive the Lady with many lighted candles, many enjoyments, beautiful clothes, and a house embellished with many fine appointments …”This really is a little bit how I conceive of my apartment. The still life above with the lady with the oud/lute thing is a representative little corner of it.Lanny, so interesting.
Typo: I meant to say autonomous. I don’t subscribe to this autonomy but rather I see that autonomy as a break in the I-Thou relationship: the fortification of the I-It plight. I see or hear the other (in this way I am thinking of the muse of writing) as being that Thou necessary to compliment the I.
“When I write, I feel myself becoming this other person who is possibly more like me than the one who behaves “as me” in real life.”Yes. I believe this is how we grow.
No, I believe we grow because of somatotrophin, or because we have eaten too much.
I mean,I’m talking about fantasy life taking over real life, not about personal development. Unless that IS personal development.
The more I write the more I become Henry Gould.
not me, I become an ornery gruela horny jewelan ohm of thulea bony toola misread rule