no qualia.
no references.
arrr.
i'm a zombie. i'm using my fleshy bits to ...
the glowing thing makes symbols when i press my fleshy bits against the squishy board thing.
...
huh.
this explains the gluttonous desire for brains.
that's hot.
that's sharp.
that's malolactic fermentation- fuck this.
surfing the brutal images of WWII left me questioning my perspective, and my association with this blogging hub-bub. i mean this audience dynamic is ludicrous, but why else would i blog?
if i only cared about expressing my thoughts and tender feelings, why not just regurgitate that wormy shit into a journal, (as i've done forever) what part of me wants strangers reading, interpreting, and commenting on the bees buzzing in my head? if you sift that all day, aren't you eventually left with a desire for attention, an insecure need for validation?
and what is that? am i suddenly a social leper?
i mean blogging is to community as blockbuster is to a movie theater.
we're swapping perspectives and trading emotions, but from such a long long distance, and via the poorest end of our pathetic mode of communication.
wouldn't a focus group or book club be more rewarding?
i think about texting (i do it, love it)
i think about emoticons and referrencing them in actual face to face conversations.
i wonder where we're all off to communication wise.
and all this circles around to challenge my voice, just like those photographs.
who am i? what do i want to say?
am i just the walking talking result of my qualia, of my experience?
they say that specific neural pathways are reserved for the unconscious processing of sensory information into motor actions like blinking and swallowing. that there is a zombie within.
that the zombie is pushing us through the motions, and the experiences that shape our personalities are stuck to us like accumulated post-it notes.
well what if all these free floating perspectives could add more post-its. maybe the subtle reward of blogging is a cutivated perception... but the follow up worry is the medium itself seeping into the way i process information, the way i feel and find validation.
alright now i'm confusing myself. ,<--- a disclaimer, sign of a perceived audience. what?
anyway, what all this was leading to before it went all stony sixteen-year-old
is here----> i thought i'd start theme-ing it up at buckman.
i thought maybe my commentary could be about the absurdity of perception itself, or inversely the importance of it. (maybe i'd figure something out) or maybe it would at least be a decent springboard for humor. i thought i'd make us zombies this week and communists the next, and on and on, always trying to write from some vacuum tube estimation of those eyes and those shoes.
so that's why we're zombies this week,
and frankly this entire post feels as though i've successfully channeled a zombie.
blah.
more updates as warranted.
ALSO! i found an excellent website to order snacks from, so check it out- zombie amazon
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