Archive for September, 2010

Entry 227 — “Gad, It’s Good To Be Alive!”

Monday, September 20th, 2010

"Gad, it's good to be alive!"

This cartoon by Peter Arno, which appear in the 2 February (my birthday!) 1929 issue of The New Yorker, may be my all-time favorite cartoon.  Several years ago I bought the DVD containing all the issues of The New Yorker up to 2005 almost entirely to find this cartoon, which I’d seen in an Arno cartoon collection my parents had.   I finally looked it up today, to put it here.  I’d remnembered its captian perfectly, and the scrawny Arno male, but he wasn’t as small as I remembered him, and I remembered him as surrounded by gorgeous tall women and men.   Anyway, the hero of the cartoon exactly captures the way I sometimes feel about myself.  The glory of being self-deluded enough to feel good about yourself.

Entry 226 — Yet Another Attempt to GET GOING

Sunday, September 19th, 2010

The little rowboat of my ambitions is dead in the water again, I don’t know why.   Often when I have some relatively serious writing I ought to do, like a book review, and feel as I now do, I tell myself to just write one paragraph, just do something.  Just one paragraph, or even just one sentence, without caring whether it’s any good or not.  Almost always, if I do that, and I frequently cannot, I end writing much more than a sentence or paragraph.  I think I’ll try it now.

Earlier, incidentally, I felt energetic.  I actually worked a while on a graphic for a new long division mathemaku I’ve had in mind the past couple of days.  I’m going to use one of my recent cryptographiku as its quotient.  I have all the other terms done except the subdividend product, which the graphic is going to be.  Unfortunately, I could work up a decent graphic.  That sorta killed the day.

* * * * *

Later note.  I added a paragraph to my review, but that was all I could manage.  Gotta finish it tomorrow.

Entry 225 — “Myrtle Beach, 1988″

Saturday, September 18th, 2010

.

.                    Myrtle Beach, 1988

.

.                    Lying on the beach, eyes closed,

.                    Poem was yellowing sleepwordly

.                    into a sea-lustrous mood

.                    the sea’s still white clouds were forgetting

.                    into his contentment.

.                    A radio’s rock music was competing

.                    not too loudly

.                    with gull-caws from many directions

.                    and distances,

.                    and the slow shuss of the Atlantic advancing up

.                    and receding from the shore a few yards from him.

.

.                    His sister-in-law offered him some kool-aid–

.                    orange, his favorite.

.                    How willowingly

.                    nothing special was happening,

.                    and continued to happen all day long.

.

.                                        * * * * *

.

I’m still not getting much done, but yesterday made me happy because, hilariously, I jogged a mile in 10:34 minutes.  “Hilariously,” because 25 years ago, I remember having a pulled ham string, and still running a mile-and- two-thirds in about that time, and thinking that I’d turn myself into the nearest old folks home if I was ever not able to cover that distance in less than eleven minutes.  But I finished the distance though ready to quit after no more than a hundred yards.  I seem to get out of breath running extremely quickly, but not walking or bicycling.  I felt extraordinarily slow but my time was 24 seconds faster than it’d been Monday, the first time I’d completed a mile since my leg started being a major problem.  I still can’t really run, but my main defect is my stamina.

Today I’ve so far failed to get any of the things done I need very much to get done, particularly a book review I started Monday but haven’t gotten back to although I know pretty much what I want to say.  But the poem above is sufficient an accomplishment for me to rate this day a success.

I stuck my two recent cryptographiku into the three Internet poetry discussion groups I’m in, as well as my two Shakespeare authorship Internet discussion groups, and got three amiable confessions of inability to understand them, and two understanding responses, one in detail from Geof Huth, and one surprising me with understandings I hadn’t had from Catherine Daly.  I was also surprised she responded.   The thread I started a HLAS was the only one that didn’t go anywhere, thanks mainly to Mark Houlsby, a thread saboteur, who posted a bunch of insulting responses that had nothing to do with my poems.

He’s one of those people common on the Internet whose only purpose seems to be trying to find  emperors they think are naked and embarrass them for no apparent reason other than to feel superior.  Not that I haven’t done the same on occasion, but I’m not happy that I have, and I’ve generally been what I consider a responsible seeker, however sometimes caustic.

Entry 224 — The Key

Friday, September 17th, 2010

.

.

.                      19.16.r.9.n.g.

.                      s.u.m.m.e.r.

.                      a.u.20.21.m.14.

.                      23.9.14.20.5.18.

.

.

.

Entry 223 — “Short-Lived Cryptographiku”

Thursday, September 16th, 2010

.

.             Short-Lived Cryptographiku

.

.             #####

.             1 .#.9.#.#

.             1 .#.15.5.#

.             a .2.i.18.4

.             a .16.o.e.13

.             a    i

.             a      o e

.             a

.

.

.

.

Sorry, no clues–except to say that its solution is straight-forward.  I have no idea whether it’s worth figuring out or not, but I had to put something in this entry.  (I hope a better title eventually occurs to me.)

Entry 222 — Learning from Others’ Poems

Wednesday, September 15th, 2010

A few weeks ago, I asked at New-Poetry what it was important to learn from others’ poems in order to become a competent poet.   I suggested that the most important thing was what was most frequently in those poems, so that one could avoid it.  Cliche-recognition is essential if you want to be a good poet.  Recognition of what will be a cliche before it becomes one may be an even better ability.  No one responded to my post.  Probably because they think the best thing you can learn from others’ poems is what they most frequently do so you can do it, too.   Maybe it is.  Nothing makes one more accessible than a liberal use of cliches.  It’s hard for me to use them, which I do think is a fault.

Latest personal news is that I managed for the first time in months to jog a whole mile.  I did it in eleven minutes flat.  That’s horrible, of course, but just just it was an achievement.   I still have hopes that I’ll be able to run all out again without having to have any more operations, at least for a while.  But I’m not very optimistic about it.

Entry 221 — Random Ruminations 1

Tuesday, September 14th, 2010

I don’t like to discuss religion because of the many friends I have for whom it’s important  But I can’t seem to think of anything else to babble about, so what follows is mostly about religion.  If God’s God, he won’t mind.

At one of the discussion groups I participate in , someone posted a list of ten things purported to make an atheist cry.   They were pretty lame.  I don’t think any reasonably intelligent non-believer or believer can be bothered by any such list against his non-beliefs or beliefs.  There is no coherent rational argument for religion, nor against it.

One statement on the list was particularly stupid.  It claimed that Nietzsche believed might made right.   I can’t believe that’s what he believed, although I haven’t read him for quite a while.  What he believed is that might is right, and we can’t do anything about it.   He’s right, of course.  Except for innate morality connected to our sense of empathy.  But we have that because it made the species that led to us superior in might to species that don’t have it.

I do have a question for the religious that should bother them: considering that God is omnipotent and omniscient and could therefore easily have created a universe that did everything he wanted it to without its causing even one being to experience pain, why didn’t he?  That is, any Divine Unknowable Purpose he had, he could have accomplished without pain’s being in the mix.  But he didn’t.  Is suffering all right for him, or is he not omniscient and omnipotent?  This is a standard skeptic’s question, but better expressed than I’ve ever seen it.

If there’s a devil, why in the world would he want people to suffer?  I should think he’d try to prevent suffering, to show his superiority to his Arch-Enemy.

Every few weeks I get frustrated with the idea of free will.  How can anyone believe in it?  Sure, I can be free to either drink a glass of water offered me or not drink it.  But my choice has to depend on what I am, and I cannot have chosen that.  So the I that chooses how my life is lived is simply acting as it has to because of what it is.  It has will but that will is not free, it’s determined by what it unchosenly is.

I do believe in self-determination, but don’t see how it would not be predetermined, if cause and effect holds, as everything indicates it does.  Nor how it would be free will if anything or everything it did was due entirely to chance.

Entry 220 — Some More Me Stuff

Monday, September 13th, 2010

Today and yesterday I worked redid some of my Shakespeare authorship book,  extensively reworking my final two chapters, which are about how a person’s innate temperament can make him incapable of accepting Shakespeare as . . . The Bard.  I’ve really dumbed it down.   I shouldn’t say that.  What I most did was remove a lot of extraneous stuff.  Anyway, I just sent it off to the agent who’s interested in it.  He told me he’d look it over and get back to me in around two weeks.

I’m pleased with myself.  I really focused on the re-write.  I must have spent a good twelve hours or more at my computer on it, and thought about it at other times.  Even though I never felt energetic.  I don’t feel particularly up, though.  Blah, actually.

Toorrow, I begin one of the two reviews I have to do before the end of the month.   I hope I can forget about the Shakespeare book.   It has taken me closer to commercial success than anything else in my whole long life, even though so far it’s only gotten me consideration by an agent.  (And, hey, I didn’t have to pay him!)

I thought I might have trouble keeping from getting too optimistic, but I didn’t much like the manuscript as I read it.   I suppose, considering how much time I’ve spent on the Shakespeare authorship question, that I’m no longer too capable of getting excited about anything concerned with it.

Entry 219 — My Latest Saturday

Sunday, September 12th, 2010

Five or more days ago, I wrote, “I’ve hit a dead end in my investigation of the evolution of intelligence.  This pleases me, for I think I now know pretty exactly what I don’t know and need to know–the biology of the cell.  I pulled out an old textbook a nursing student gave me after she became an RN called Introduction to the Chemistry of Life. It’s pretty simple.  I only spent fifteen minutes with it earlier and got to page 59.  I am hoping it will quickly help me retrieve the knowledge I need to give cell biology a serious shot.  I have a text on the neuron.  I hope I have one on cells.  If not, I’ll have to buy one.

“My main problem is providing a scientific basis for my belief that one organelle can cause another to be sensitive to neurotransmitters the first organelle emits and no others.  Certainly neurons can determine what passes through, what is blocked by, its membrane.  Why shouldn’t an organelle do likewise?”

I pushed on, though, and perhaps would have gone farther.  However, two credit card statements arrived today (which is 9/11).  When I studied them, I saw that I would soon–within two months (or less)–I would not be able to make all my credit card payments.  I have to try to do something I can get paid for.  I have a commission for a a hangable mathemaku–actually now a triptych–that will get me enough to keep my head above water for an extra month.  It’s all done except for the paste-up, which I’ve been neurotically avoiding doing.  That should not take me more than two days.  There’s also my children’s book.  I’ve been neurotically avoiding doing that.  I know what I have to do.  The only uncertainty are four or five new illustrations I have to do for it.  I’m sure I can take care of them although I haven’t done any cartooning for maybe ten years.  I’m talking about my A StrayngeBook, one basic idea of which is that its drarinks iz crazy, so I can draw anything, or collage.   Should be fun.

I have two review deadlines to meet before I’ll feel free to tackle either job.  Two books of poetry I’ve read and liked and shouldn’t have too much trouble with.  I was going to start one of them today.  I may yet, but I doubt it.  I have been a good boy today, though: I got my blog entry done before seven, even though it required one or two new paragraphs that I had to think about and a little editing.  And I finished mowing my lawn, which took an hour-and-a-half in midday Florida heat, which is when the mood to do it struck.  And I’ve done some reading I have to get out of the way, because its of a borrowed book its owner wants back Monday.  A silly fairies/vampires/wizards/etc. thriller detective story, but it’s snared me.  Jim Butcher: Proven Guilty, (2006).  I approve of the title; for a while I got to thinking I was the only writer who used “proven” instead of “proved,” anymore.  I like the old “en” participles like “given.”  There are quite a few.  I like “dove” instead of “dived,” too.  Can’t think of all of them.  It’d be nice to have a little booklet of them.  Probably there’s one on the Internet, but I’m too lazy to try to find it.

Okay, another task out of the way.  I can avoid starting one of my reviews without too much guilt.  I must get at least a halfway-decent rough draft of one of them done before going to bed tomorrow, though.

Late-breaking development: a literary agent who’d chimed in for a while at one of my Shakespeare authorship discussion grounds on the Internet a number of years ago, showed up there again after I wrote the above to let us know about a Shakespeare play being telecast.  I’d been thinking of my one possibly-commercial play, Arborations, of late because of my need for some kind of income, so I immediately queried him about that.  He was into other things, he said, but was looking for a book on the Shakespeare Authorship Question.  When I e.mailed him about Shakespeare and the Rigidniks, he said he’d be glad to give it a look.  So I’m going to spend today updating, correcting and polishing it a bit, and reworking the rigidnik angle.   Dare I hope I can now finally break into commerciality?

Note: this entry was supposed to appear Sunday, but I forgot to change the private setting it had to public.

Entry 218 — Evolution of Intelligence, Part 4

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

Sensors are  at first sensitive to only one stimulus.  If the sensitivity helped its cell, it would be retained by the species; if not it would be not be retained.  Eventually, sensors would become potentially sensitive to more and more stimuli, to hurry the process of finding effective sensitivities.  Sensors always sensitive to a wide vairety of stimuli would not be effective until they were able to limit their sensitivity to the first stimulus they are exposed to.  This would also keep the cell up-to-date–no longer would they automatically have sensitivities to other species that had become extinct or to matter in an enivronment no longer present.

Okay, now comes the detachment of such sensors before being sensitized to given stimuli.  They might not be able to admit neuro-signals then, in which case they would be innocuous accidental superfluous intruders that could well persist–until they became sensitive to neuro-signals.  At that point, they would become “sensor-sensors.”

Once able to become active, they would emit neuro-signals that would turn on effectors, sometimes, beneficially, sometimes not, sometimes neither.  Once an inhibitor joined one of them to make a proto-retroceptual reflex, their cell could inhibit them from activating effectors they should not.

To go back to my earlier remarks: “Another step in the evolution of superior intelligence will be the advent of inhibitors and stimulators–and we know inhibition and stimulation have major roles in the nervous system.  An inhibitor is device which prevents any effector it is connected to from acting in the same manner that a sensor causes the activation of any effector it is connected to.  Like everything else, it would pop up by chance but persist when it happened to be connected to a prey-odor sensor, say, and inhibited an away-from effector.  Ergo, the alphazoa blessed with such an inhibitor would not flee a cell whose predator color it had an avoidance reflex for if the cell had a prey odor, but appropriately flee a cell that had the color of a predator but no prey odor.

Eventually, effectors would evolve capable of causing two actions, or a sensor similarly capable.  Hence, an effector connected to a sensor sensitive to prey odor might both inhibit withdrawel from a cell with a predator’s color and cause advance toward a cell with the odor of prey.  Or a sensor sensitive to prey odor connect to two effectors, one inhibiting withddrawel, one causing advance.

“So, life will now have achieved the ability to choose between advancing or withdrawing in the direction of a gray cell, and be on its way toward more complex actions.  It will still be a very primitive computer, but with something like intelligence, anyway.”  The alphazoan could now, in effect, remember encountering a certain stimulus, what resulted, and whether or not the outcome was beneficial.

Something else is likely to have happened: various effectors sensitive to all neuro-signals from endo-sensors becoming constantly manufactured while inhibited ones are destroyed.   This would allow the cell constantly to find effective new ways to deal with existence.  Only effective reflexes consisting of endo-sensors and effectors would keep alive, and the latter would become more sophisticated in what signals they accepted, for they’d be able to accept lots of difference signals so long as what action they contributed to was pleasurable.  Stimulators would increase this.

The number of sensor-sensors would increase, as well.  The truest form of memory would occur once one sensor-sensor conected to another.   You would then have a memory of, say, stimulus A followed by a memory of stimulus B.  If cellular activity (call it activity C) as sensor-sensor B becomes active is positive, then when stimulus A again leads to sensor A’s activation, Sensor A would activate sensor B–even it no stimulus B was then present.  AB would then, through memory, try to cause activity C and possibly succeed.

More complex arrangements would then have to evolve.  Memory-holders, as I will now call sensor-sensors, would become sensitive to much, then all, “information” transmitted during an “instacon,” or unit of consciousness  They would retain the “information” until having some threshold amount needed for activation–which might come to be variable, dependent of what’s going on in the cell as a whole.  Longer strands of connected memory-holders would come into being.  Effectors would gain variable amounts of neuro-signals, often from more than one memory-cell (and no long directly from a sensor), and need a certain minimal amount to become active.  At some point, too, multi-cellular organisms would evolve or have evolved, relatively soon devoting whole cells to carry out the functions I’ve been giving to organelles.

Consequently, my next step in modeling the evolution of intelligence is going to concern the development of the mnemoducts my theory hypothesizes, as the central organs of memory, and intelligence.  I am taking a break from the project now, however, because of other projects higher on my present list of priorities.