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Entry 1389 — “Cerebrogovernance”

Tuesday, March 4th, 2014

Yeah, another coinage, this one finishing off my full definition of the “G-factor” (or, in my psychology, general cerebreffectiveness component–or full-scale intelligence as opposed to what most credentialed psychologists consider it) as a combination of four cerebral mechanisms: charactration, accommodance, accelerance and–now–cerebrogovernance.  Mechanism in charge of basal cerebral energy level; mechanism in charge of reducing cerebral energy level; mechanism in charge of increasing cerebral energy; and supervisory mechanism in charge of directing cerebral energy (which is effectually the same as directing attention) to and from various awarenesses (or areas of the cerebrum such as the auditory or verbal awarenesses–e.g., the cerebrogovernance might turn off all the awarenesses of a person silently reading except his verbal awaresness and verbal/visual and verbal auditory association areas, then switch him out of all three to his auditory awareness if someone suddenly screams his name).

I think of cerebrogovernance as “little g” and all four cerebreffective mechanisms “big G.”  All the major awarenesses are “big S’s” (for big specific “intelligences”), and their many sub-awarenesses (e.g., the reducticeptual awareness’s matheceptual and linguaceptual sub-awarenesses) are “little s’s.”

I’m gearing up for a Major little essay on my theory of cerebreffective- ness.  But, first I have to finish the first blog entry to the continuation of my Scientific American blog.  I’ve almost finished it, honest, but I keep finding spots to repair, delete or expand, and seem to be avoid what I believe is the thing’s final section (where I went off on a tangent about tragedy, then realized what I had to say about it was too confuse to try to add to my entry).

Meanwhile, I had my cystoscopy.  It went very well, but my problem turned out to be due to a bladder stone the doctor couldn’t removed for some reason so I’ll have to go back next Monday for, I guess, a similar procedure to remove it.  Will find out more Thursday.  Meanwhile, I’ll have to endure another week of sometimes painful difficulty urinating.  Right now I’m in a good mood, though–even though I’m not on hydrocodone.

Speaking of that, I just read in the paper that I’m a hydrocodone-abuser because I sometimes take “just to feel better”–instead, apparently, for a headache back-ache or the like that other pain remedies don’t do much for, which is what my hydrocodone was prescribed for.  It’s so stupid.  A person semi-incapacitated because of a headache should be given a pill but a person unable to do anything that will give his life meaning because he’s in the kind of null zone I get into at times should not be given a pill–unless, I gather, worse off than I am.

My doctor can no longer prescribe the dosage of Hydrocodone he used to, so my latest prescription from him is for half the dosage.  A little silly, since it only means I have to take two pills instead of one to get the effect one was giving me.  I’m going to see how the half-dosage works, though.  I suspect I don’t really need any dosage; I think I only need the caffeine pills.  But who knows, I may end up seeing a shrink to get genuine anti-depressive pills, legitimately.

Of course, the thing that most disgusts me is that I’m not allowed to buy the pills from anyone who wants to sell them to me without a prescription, and take them as I see fit, on the grounds that I should make all final decisions about my body.  Which, of course, could include my decision to put one of my doctors in charge of my thyroid gland, for instance, as I’ve done.

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Entry 1176 — Natural and Learned Concepts

Thursday, August 8th, 2013

A few days ago while discussing conceptual poetry, which seems to be attracting a lot of attention amongst poetry people, I got mired in confusion: I realized I didn’t know what I was taking about.  This morning  (no, yesterday morning since I’m writing this a day in advance) I suddenly felt I did, so wrote the following to New-Poetry:

I think I’ve solved my question about what Grumman was trying to put into words.  It is that there are two kinds of concepts, those we perceive “naturally” the way we perceive the color red, and those we learn, which are more complex and ordinarily the only mental objects considered to be concepts (so far as I know).  I realized this while thinking about numbers.  The number one is a natural concept, I claim, because–I claim–one perceives a thing’s “oneness”  the same way one perceives a thing’s redness.  Thinking about it further, I decided that what we experience (due to a simple innate brain counting mechanism) is “absence of duplication.”  The mechanism consists of a storage chamber holding everything a person has seen (I’m considering the visual only for simplicity’s sake) over the past minute or so; and matching chamber with a slot for the object being tested for “oneness” and a slot into which each of the things in the storage chamber are inserted.  The matching chamber has a second compartment where one image overlaps the other and differences and samenesses are counted and a percentage arrived at that indicates match or non-match.

If nothing matches, the object being tested gets a one.  One match gives it a two.  Beyond that, who knows, but I’m sure four or five matches give the object a many.  Words labeling each of these, like “one,” “alone,” “unique,” “twin,” etc.  Larger numbers are learned.  Five dots gets a many from the counting mechanism–but eventually is learned as a hand of fingers or the like, which is reduced to the word, “five.”

I believe more complex mathematical mechanisms may have evolved, but haven’t thought any out.  I can’t believe I’m saying anything very wrong or new.  But I work from introversion almost entirely–being too lazy for research and related work.

So, to get to POETRY, I suppose it doesn’t matter whether a conceptual poem’s concept/s is/are natural or learned.  But I think all concepts are natural at the core.

Boy, I wish I were 25–and able to focus on ONE area of investigation the way Darwin did!  This would be a good such area to spend a life on.

Note: in knowlecular psychology, natural concepts are termed “urceptual concepts.”
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Entry 711 — A Visit With Paul Crowley

Tuesday, April 10th, 2012

For anyone coming here who doesn’t realize I’m a lunatic, I thought I’d give you a look at my latest post to HLAS.  In it I argue about what intelligence is with Paul Crowley.  No, what I’m now trying to do is get him to agree that such a thing exists.  I believe you will find him unbelievably out of it.  I often believe him to be a computer program designed to see how rational people interact with the completely irrational.  Or perhaps just for the fun of seeing me make a fool of myself trying to refute someone too dense to be refuted.  In any case, I believe my participation in discussions with Paul Crowley (which have been going on for around fifteen years) are near-proof that I am a lunatic.  But there is method in my madness, heheheheheh.  I am the foremost explorer of irrationality in the world, you see!  I’m not out to defeat this boob, but to spark manifestations of every conceivable insanity out of him so that I may list them as a lepidopterist collects butterflies for display!

On Apr 9, 11:48 am, Paul Crowley wrote:

> n 07/04/2012 00:09, Bob Grumman wrote:

> > And if you really think no one discusses intelligence,
> > and who is intelligent, who not, and what precisely it
> > is, and so forth, you’re–why, you’re Paul Crowley.

> The world is much more than the acquaintances
> of Bob Grumman. No one, outside of those born
> in the 20th century in a modern western scientistic
> culture discusses ‘intelligence’ in a manner that
> is remotely similar. To all other societies and
> cultures, the concept is either quite alien or
> utterly strange.

> >>> Is there a necessity to postulate an entity that allows
> >>> us to see–which I would call “sight?”
> >> Certainly not. People and other creatures see.
> >> That is enough.

> > Where did the word, “sight,” come from? (Truly,
> > you’re at your finest here, Paul–I’m sure I’ve never
> > tried to answer such incredibly stupid opinions
> > before.)

> It is convenient, in the English language (and
> in some other languages), to sometimes use
> abstract nouns. I’d advise you not to let that
> fact fool you into believing that such things
> have a real existence — but you are already
> hopelessly lost in a world of fantasy.

> > Ophthamologists should not be concerned with
> > some entity that allows people to see?

> There is no such entity.

What are the eyes?

> >> There is nothing to define. There is nothing
> >> that can be defined. It’s classic case of the
> >> Emperor’s new clothes.

> > Right. There is no such thing as intelligence
> > because there is no such thing as intelligence.

> Sorry, but pointing at the nakedness of the
> Emperor is enough to demonstrate that he
> has no clothes. It’s up to those claiming that
> he really has clothes to demonstrate that fact.
> For example, they could put him on a
> weighing scales and show that he weighed
> more with them on than with some off.
> You can’t off course. The clothing (i.e. here
> ‘intelligence’) exists because you want it to
> exist, so it must exist. You can’t imagine a
> world without it, but you have no conception
> as to how you’d prove or disprove its
> existence.

[note: amazing how much cranks love the dead metaphor of the emperor’s new clothes.]

> >>> And now I’m to what I thought I’d write about just
> >>> now: how we should tackle what I want to tackle,
> >>> which is to determine if each of us possesses a
> >>> mechanism I would call “intelligence” that allows
> >>> us effectively to interact with the environment–
> >>> biologically, I mean: i.e., in such a way as to
> >>> keep us alive and comfortable.

> >> No one in the real world asks such a question.
> >> It’s entirely fake.

[note: one of the most comic of Paul’s traits is his inability to avoid using “no one” and “entirely” and the like every chance he gets. If really pushed on the practice, he will call me too literal-minded to accept that he “really” means “the probability against anyone’s acting in such a way is astronomical,” of the like. But it’s clear he truly means what he says. As a rigidnik, he can’t accept not being 100% on the right side of any significant question.]

> > Yet I have reference books that define the term, and
> > books about it.

> If you had any historical perspective you would
> know that throughout history nearly all libraries
> consisted of books that were nearly all
> worthless junk. Those of the 20th century
> must be by far the worst in this respect, with
> Pssyycholistic and other pseudo-scientific
> ‘works’ being manifestly mindless junk from
> the moment they were published.

“Nearly all worthless junk.” Absolutely incredibly obtuse statement. Since I have something called intelligence, I know that to the contrary no book ever created was worthless junk. Many books about intelligence seem to me not to have very effectively advanced the search for truth regarding it, but the possibility that any of them was discussing something non-existent is ludicrous. But I’ll keep playing this insane game you have me in, the goal of which is to nail you in a contradiction no sane person can deny–although you will.

Here’s a starting question:  What did Shake-speare have that I do not have that was responsible for his creation of plays vastly superior to the ones I’ve written?

> >> You are talking about a nothing.

> > I am speaking of a physical mechanism humans
> > have that allow for problem solving.

> Nope. You are missing every point that can
> be missed. As an analogy, let’s say you
> are explaining to some young person how
> important the New York Times was in the
> 20th century, and what it was like. But, at best
> — and you are even a long way from that — you
> would be saying what kind of ink was used for
> its printing, and where they got the paper.

> >> There is no entity which “allows us to solve
> >> problems”. We either solve them or we don’t.
> >> We either walk or we don’t.

> > Ah, so my legs have nothing to do with my ability to
> > walk?

> How do you come to this conclusion?
> You need a lot of things to be able to walk,
> and working legs are one of them. Being
> able to balance is another. Having a fair
> amount of practice around the ages of one
> or two is another. Having nerve connections
> in the lower spine is another. And so on
> and on

So anything that’s complicated does not exist? What happens to allow a car to move is complicated: does it therefore not have the ability to move?

> Possessing an entity called ‘walking ability’
> does not figure in mind (or the books) of any
> physiotherapist or doctor or other specialist
> in the field. It would only be imagined by some
> specialist in Pssyychologostical bull-shit.

Wouldn’t a physiotherapist investigate certain physical mechanisms and not others? Would he give a person having trouble walking a color discrimination test?

> >> We either eat or
> >> we don’t. You can talk about whole ranges
> >> of pre-conditions that “allow us” to eat, or
> >> walk, or solve problems; for example, being
> >> fit and healthy helps. But none of these pre-
> >> conditions have some over-riding power.
> >> [..]

> > All you’re saying is that intelligence is a mechanism
> > has many constituents.

> NO, I am not. I am saying it is far less useful
> an idea than ‘walking ability’ would be to a
> paediatrician or a doctor in a hospital for foot
> or leg amputees.

I had a bad hip, Paul. It was operated on last June. After the operation I could walk, but not well. All the doctors and nurses and therapists I was involved in were concerned with my ABILITY TO WALK, not with whether it was there or not there as  a lunatic like you apparently would, but whether or not I had an EFFECTIVE ABILITY TO WALK. Certain muscles needed exercise for me to fully to recover THE ABILITY TO WALK. I soon had that ability again, but not a reasonably good ABILITY TO RUN, which they next worked on, and that is nearly back, as well.

> >> There is NO ability. Giving a name to a nothing
> >> and then defining it is (I fully agree) the raison

> >> d’etre of Pssyychologism.

> > Can a normal person solve some problems? If so,
> > what does he possess that allows him to do that?
> > Nothing?

> Take a relatively simple concept like ‘walking’

I can walk because I have legs and a brain that directs those legs.

> or ‘left-handedness’, and ask the same kind
> of question. You will (hopefully) then see that
> such a question is absurd or close to absurd,
> and that it has no reasonable answer.  THEN
> you might realise that to imagine you have a
> meaningful question as regards ‘intelligence’
> is only to fool yourself.

As far as I can make out, you are claiming that there is no such thing as an ability. Or that abilities exist but nothing physical causes them to be manifested.

> >> Not the supernatural. We are what we see we
> >> are. There is no point in trying to pretend that
> >> we are explicable in terms of electrical signals
> >> or whatever. You could say that today’s New
> >> York Times is just a combination of paper and
> >> ink. But to reduce it to ‘paper and ink’ misses
> >> its entire nature, and to respond in the wrong
> >> dimension. You are (somehow) thinking you can
> >> do something similar with human beings and
> >> their brains — reduce them all to bio-electrical
> >> bits and signals. You are simply missing the
> >> point.

Block the bio-electrical bits and signals to the cerebrum and the person involved will have no ability to solve problems. Doesn’t that tell you something, Paul?

> > If it is not bio-electrical bits and signals, and not
> > supernatural, what is it?

> It’s the hopeless inapplicability of your
> reductionist approach to anything human.

Seriously, Paul, have you had a relapse? You seem at least one order
of magnitude more insane than ever before.

–Bob

Few people visit HLAS nowadays, for Paul and I dominate it and there are few who are willing to wade through our exchanges.  I think they are very funny, some of my inept attempts against Paul being close to as funny as his almost-always bizarre irrationalities.  The very few who have commented on Paul or I lump us together.  No one yet has ventured to take sides in this particular thread (or the two or three other threads the discussion has also been going on in).  So I would appreciate it if someone would be good enough to reassure me that it is not absurd to believe that human beings possess a mechanism it makes sense to call intelligence that, among other things, allows them to solve problems (or try to).  I’m curious, too, if anyone finds Paul as hilarious as I do.  Sometimes I think there may be less that a thousand people in the whole world who love the ravings of nuts as much as I.  And, as I’ve said more than once, I empathize with nuts, knowing full well that I may be one myself.  Although I am convinced I am leagues less a nut than Paul Crowley is.  (I’ve tried to find out who he is in the real world and gotten nowhere, by the way; he refuses to disclose anything at all about himself–amusingly, I find it hard not to disclose everything about myself.)

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Entry 232 — New Knowlecular Terminology!!!

Saturday, September 25th, 2010

After so many near-worthless entries, at last a really really exciting one!  A very lame school marm type at HLAS, one of my Shakespeare Authorship “Question” sites, got me thinking about rigidniplexes.  They are fixational systems rigidniks form that are the basis of the authorship theories of the most dedicated and rigidly doctrinaire anti-Stratfordians.  One of their main functions is defending the rigidnik against non-conformity.   I had always thought of them as necessarily irrational.

But it seemed to me  the school marm, Mark Houlsby (which may be a pseudonym), has one,   because of  the way he constantly gets after people for rude remarks, going off-topic, and disregard of what he thinks is grammatical correctness, as well as any view he disagrees with, which are mostly non-conformist views.   Yet Houlsby is not an anti-Stratfordian nor does he  seem any more irrational than every normal person is, just set in his narrow ways.  So, I decided there are two basic kinds of rigidniplexes, “hyperrigidniplexes” and “hyporigidniplexes,” the first being highly irrational, the second not particularly irrational.

Actually, I’ve always believed in more than one kind of rigidniplex, but I hadn’t come up with names for them I liked, and my definitions of them were vague.    Now I think I’ll call the most rigidnikal of rigidniplexes, the ones suffered by genuine psychotics, “ultrarigidniplexes.”  Such rigidniplexes are either not “sensibly” irrational, the way hyperrigidniplexes are, or are based on unreality rather than the irrational, although they are no doubt irrational as well.  For instance, an ultrarigidnik may believe unreal aliens from another dimension are after him whereas a mere hyperrigidnik will only believe, say, that no one whose parents are illiterate can become a great writer, which is idiotic but but is merely a misinterpretation of reality, wholly irrational, but not drawing on pure fantasy.

There are probably two levels of hyporigidniks–no, make that three.  Managerial hyporigidniks are the most successful rigidniks, common in the officer corps of the military, and on corporation boards, and, of course, running federal bureaucracies, or universities.  Rigidnikal enough to dominate third-raters, and hold unimaginatively to a course that has proved effective in the past, and rally others at their level, along with the masses, against non-conformity, which will include a country’s culturateurs.  Such hyporigidniks are the great defenders of mediocrity.  And here’s where this entry becomes on-topic for a blog called “Poeticks,” for among the great defenders of mediocrity are the people selecting prize- and grants-winners in poetry, and which contemporaries’ poetry should be taught, published and made the subject of widely-circulated critical essays or books.

A level below the managerial hyporigidniks are the marmly hyporigidniks.  Only slightly above-average in charactration, or basal mental energy, below average in accommodance, the engine of flexibility, imagination, creativity, but with possibly slightly above average accelerance, or the ability to raise their mental energy when appropriate.  So, not in managerial hyporigidniks’ league, but able to construct rigidniplexeses about trivialities like table manners, spelling, etc., and lord it over milyoops.  And, in poetry, repeat the opinions of the Establishment.

Managerial hyporigidniks, I should have said, are higher in charactration than lesser hyporigidniks.  Indeed, each level of rigidniks has more charactration, and less accommodance–and smaller but more life-consuming rigidniplexes.  The lowest-level hyporigidniks have average charactration and accommodance, and variable but never inordinately high accelerance.   Peasant hyporigidniks, I call them: they form rigidniplexes that are little more than habits sensible for their position in life, and aren’t so much locked into them as too unimaginative to try anything else.

In the past, I’ve often hypothesized a kind of “pararigidniplex”–a rigidniplex formed by freewenders, who are the sanest, most intelligent people.   I now have a new name for it: “wendrijniplex.”  It’s like any other rigidniplex except for its origin, which is not caused by a person’s chronically having too much charactration and too little accommodance, but by a freewender’s having in a single instance, too much charactration and too little accommodance, his enthusiasm for a discovery of his over-riding his critical sense, and his continued pleasure in the rigidniplex it brings into being, being too great for him to break ties with it.  So it blights his intellectual existence every bit as unfortunately as a rigidnik’s rigidniplex blights his.

To be thorough, I will remind my readers (including myself) that everyone forms knowleplexes, which are mental constructs each of which provides an inter-related understanding of some fairly large subject like biology, for a layman, or the biology of mammals, or of one species of mammals, for a biologist.  A rational (although not necessarily valid) knowleplex is a “verosoplex.”  Offhand, I would say there are two kinds of irrational knowleplexes: rigidniplexes and–another new term coming up–“ignosoplex,” or a knowleplex which is basically too incoherent to be classified as either rational or irrational.  It’s the result of ignorance.  We all have many of them, each concerning a field we are “ignosophers” about–not completely ignorant of, but not sufficiently knowledgeable about to be able to form a verosoplex–or any kind of working rigidniplex.

I’m well aware that most readers will find the above the product of an ignosopher.  It isn’t.  It’s just a pop-psychology–level very rough draft of one small knowleplex the among many making up my knowleplex of temperament, which in turn is a small knowleplex among the many making up my theory of intelligence, which is just a small portion of my theory of epistemology, which is a not-small portion of my theory of the human psychology.  Or so I keep telling myself.

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.

Entry 214 — The Evolution of Intelligence, Part 3

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

Here’s a revision of what I’ve been fumbling with concerning the evolution of intelligence with some additions:

An explanation of intelligence, starting with its evolution, if by intelligence we mean “choice of behavior” as opposed to random activity.

Let’s begin with the first living cell, a protozoan.  It moves randomly through water.  Eventually it accidentally acquires a sensitivity to light, let’s say, although it could be salt density or temperature, it doesn’t matter.  So, it has the prototype of a nervous system, a single sensor sensitive to light.  The next consequential accident will be its evolving a component–an organelle–that makes it move in some direction as opposed to being moved by environmental forces.  Call it an “effector.”  It may evolve this before it evolves a sensor, it doesn’t matter, What matters is that eventually many protoazoa will have non-functioning but not seriously biologically disadvantageous nervous-systems. They’ll have the potential to be superior (that is, they will have taken a step toward us), so I will call them “alphzoa.”

The first key accident leading to intelligence will be an alphazoan’s forming a linkage from its light-sensor to its effector, allowing the former to activate the latter.  As I see it, the linkage will not be the equivalent of a wire, but will result from two hypothesized attributes of organelles, at least the sensors and effectors I’m speaking of.  First claim: that when a sensor is exposed to whatever it is in the exo-environment that activates it, it carries out some kind of chemical reaction that creates molecules that leave it to flow haphazardly through the cell’s cytoplasm.  This will likely have no particular effect on the cell, so will be ignored by natural selection.

Second claim, an effector will react to the presence of the molecule the sensor transmits by absorbing it.  Eventually. it will absorb a molecule that partakes in a chemical reaction that leads to the effect for which the effector is responsible.  Ergo, a micro-relex is born.  If the action the reflex leads to is a biologically advantageous reaction to the presence of the stimulus activating the sensor involved, natural selection will keep it.  If, as probably the case, the reaction is neither good or bad, it may or may not be kept long enough for nature to find some use for it.  If the reaction is disadvantageous, cells possessing the reflex will die out.

Let me further propose that the organelles I’m speaking of have the equivalent of cell membranes, and call the molecules transmitted neuro-transmitters, which is what they in effect are.  So, if an effector causes movement toward light, and light is beneficial–as perhaps a source of energy–alpazoa with this capacity will soon become dominant.  Alphazoa which light causes to move away from light will die out.  Or perhaps evolve differently, finding something in darkness that makes up for lack of light–concealment from prey, maybe.  In any case, a functional, useful nervous system will have come into being, or what I’d call simple reflexive intelligence.

Eventually some sensor will evolve that is sensitive to the color, say, of one of the alphazoan’s prey and links with an effector causing the alphzoa to move toward the prey, a “toward-effector.”  Ditto, a reflex with an “away-from effector” attached to a sensor sensitive to the color or some other characteristic of some kind of predator on the alphazoan.  Not a technical advance, but certainly a big jump in improving the alphazoa’s biological fitness.

By this time, something of central importance had to have happened, or become ready to happen: the evolution of sensors sensitive to pain and pleasure.  For that to happen, “endo-sensors” (sensors sensitive to external stimuli) would have to have broken free of the cell membrane to become potential “intra-sensors.”  And somehow become sensitive to something of vital importance, a chemical due to damage to the cell membrane, say–probably excessive water (a biochemist would know).  Or maybe the organelle might have become sensitive to pieces of the membrane with which it would never have come into contact unless the membrane were damaged.  If the intra-sensor were attached to an away-from effector, natural selection would select it because of its value in helping its cell get away from whatever had damaged is membrane.

Before or after the evolution of pain-organelles, similar organelles connected to toward-effectors would become sensitive to some by-product, say, of a successful hunt–something eaten but not digested, that would cause  the cell to pursue whatever it had gotten a good taste of, with a feeling of pleasure.

Metaphysical question: why would such a sensation of pleasure be pleasurable?  That puzzles me.  The answer is not because it would motivate the cell to do something to keep the pleasure occurring.  Nothing can motivate a cell.  If it evolves a way to move toward a certain beneficial stimulus, it will do so, whether it feels pleasure or not.  My only guess to account for this is that in the eogotmic universe (or ultimate universe behind all existence), construction (such as the combining of materials to make a membrane) pleasurable, destruction (i.e., fragmentation) is painful, and that construction/destruction here reflects construction/destruction there.   Hence, any living organism will feel pleasure when it is reasonably well-organized, pain when going to pieces (and nothing one way or the other when in between the two states), and its state of organization will reflect its egotomic state of organization.

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 sesnor 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 effects, 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.

Entry 209 — More on Maximuteurs

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

I continue continuingly to feel like I need a nap: when I lie down, I close my eyes and at once feel near to sleep–but rarely sleep.  Although, I seem now always to get six hours or more at night.  Can’t figure it out.  But It makes it hard for me to concentrate, or want to do anything like write a daily entry here, which I’m forcing myself to do to keep myself from falling entirely to sloth.

I’m not sleepy when on the tennis court.  This morning, I played three sets of doubles (2 wins).  I was reasonably energetic, and running better, albeit nowhere near as well as I feel I ought to.  When I got home, I didn’t start limping, as I generally do after tennis.  So my leg may be getting better.  I quickly got sleepy, though.

Okay, to provide slightly less trivial content to this, back to the maximuteur, specifically to the what makes a failed maximuteur.

1. Not knowing enough, including the fact that one doesn’t know enough.  The result for the failed verosopher is a faulty premise, for the failed artist, lack of originality.

2. Illogic that will doom even a maximuteur with a valid premise or full understanding of an art.

3. Lack of talent for self-criticism.

4. Lack of marketing skills.

I think 1. may well apply to me as a theoretical psychologist, but none of the others–at least to any significant degree.  I’ve done almost nothing to market my theory, but I’ve published enough to make it available, and had a weird enough life, enough of it documented, to eventually get someone to pay attention to it.  I consider it very likely invalid, but almost certainly of value.

I don’t think any of the reasons for failure apply to me as a poet.  Again, my marketing attempts have not been very good, but my poetry has been published and a few times discussed by others.  I can’t believe that I won’t get so much as a footnote in literary histories of my time.

Entry 207 — A Day in the Life of a Verosopher

Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

Random thoughts today because I want to get this entry out of the way and work on my dissertation on the evolution of intelligence, or try to do so, since I’m still not out of my null zone, unless I’m slightly out but having trouble keeping from falling back into it.

First, two new Grummanisms: “utilinguist” and “alphasemanticry.”  The first is my antonym for a previous coinage of mine, “nullinguist,” for linguist out to make language useless; ergo, a utilinguist is a linguist out to make language useful.  By trying to prevent “poetry” from meaning no more than “anything somebody thinks suggests language concerns” instead meaning, to begin with,  “something constructed of words,” before getting much more detailed, for example.

“Alphasemanticry” is my word for what”poetry” should mean if the nullinguists win: “highest use of language.”  From whence, “Visual Alphasemanticry” for a combination of graphics and words yielding significant aesthetic pleasure that is simultaneously verbal and visual.”

I popped off today against one of Frost’s “dark” poems, or maybe it is a passage from one of them:  “. . . A man can’t speak of his own child that’s dead”–the kind academics bring up to show Frost was Important, after all.   “Wow,” I said, “Wow, he confronts death!  He must be major! ”  I then added, “Frost is in my top ten all-time best poets in English that I’ve read but not for his Learic Poems.”

James Finnegan then corrected me, stating (I believe) that the poem didn’t confront death but showed its effects.   I replied, “Okay, a poem about the effect of death on two people.   What I would call a wisdom poem.  I’m biased against them.  I like poems that enlarge my world, not ones that repeat sentiment about what’s wrong with it, or difficult about it.  Frost knew a lot about reg’lar folks, but I never learned anything from him about them that I didn’t already know.  In other words, I’m also somewhat biased against people-centered poems.  But mostly, I don’t go to poems to learn, I go to them for pleasure.”

I would add that I’m an elitist, believing with Aristotle that the hero of a tragedy needs to be of great consequence, although I disagree with him that political leaders are that, and I would add that narrative literature of any kind requires either a hero or an anti-hero (like Falstaff) of great consequence.

I’m not big on poems of consolation, either.

I find that when I have to make too trips on my bike in a day, it zaps me.  I don’t get physically tired, I just even less feel like doing anything productive than usual.  Today was such a day.  A little while ago i got home from a trip to my very nice dentist, who cemented a crown of mine that had come out (after 24 years) back in for no charge, and a stop-off at a CVS drugstore to buy $15 worth of stuff and get $4 off.  I actually bought $18 worth of stuff, a gallon of milk and goodies, including a can of cashews, cookies, candy, crackers . . .  Living it up.  Oh, I did buy cereal with dried berries in it, too.

My other trip was to the tennis courts where I played two sets, my side winning both–because of my partners.  I’m not terrific at my best, and have been hobbled by my hip problem for over a year.  It may be getting slightly better, though–today I ran after balls a few times instead of hopped-along after them.  I’m still hoping I’ll get enough better to put in at least one season playing my best.  Eventually, I’m sure I’ll need a hip replacement but there’s a chance I won’t have to immediately.

I’ve continued my piece on the evolution of intelligence, but not done anything on it today.  now fairly confident I have a plausible model of the most primitive form of memory, and its advance from a cell’s remembering that event x followed action a and proved worth making happen again to a cell’s remember a chain of actions and the result.  That’s all that our memory does, but it’s a good deal more sophi- sticated.  I think I can show how primitive memory evolved to become what my theory says it now, but won’t know until I write it all down.  (It’s amazing how trying to write down a theory for the first time exposes its shortcomings.)  If I can present a plausible description of my theory’s memory, it will be a good endorsement of it.  No, what is much more true is that if I am not able to come up with a plausible description, it will indicate that my theory is probably invalid.

Entry 205 — Evolution of Intelligence, Part 2

Sunday, August 29th, 2010

At this stage of the evolution of intelligence a lot of minor advances would be made: multiplication of reflexes, the addition of sensors sensitive to the absence of a stimulus, the combining of more sensors and effectors so, perhaps, a purple cell with white dots and smell B and a long flagellum will be pursued if the temperature of the water is over eighty degrees but not if it is under.

By this time, something of central importance had to have happened, or be ready to happen: the evolution of sensors sensitive to pain and pleasure. For that to happen, “endo-sensors” (sensors sensitive to external stimuli) would have to have broken free of the cell membrane to become potential “intra-sensors.” And somehow become sensitive to a chemical due to damage to the cell mem- brane–probably excessive water (a biochemist would know). Or maybe the infra-cell might become sensitive to pieces of the membrane which it would never have contact with unless the membrane were damaged. If the intra-sensor were attached to an away-from effector, natural selection would select it because of its value in helping its cell get away from whatever had damaged is membrane.

Eventually similar intra-sensors connected to toward effectors would become sensitive to some by-product, say, of a successful hunt–something eaten but not digested, that would cause the cell to pursue whatever it had gotten a good taste of. I’m now going to name all such components of a cell that carry out functions like those of the sensors and effector “infra-cells” to make discussion easier. Let me add the clarification that the connections between sensors and effectors may begin as physical channels but will soon almost surely come to be made by precursors of neuro-transmitters: i.e., a sensor with “connect” to its effector by a distinctive chemical that only the effector recognizes and is activated by.  The cell’s cytoplasm will act as a primitive synapse.

Various other “neurophysiological” improvements should soon also occur. One would be an intra-sensor’s gaining the ability to activate a toward effector when it senses pleasure but activate an away-from effector when it senses pain. The accident resulting in such an infra-cell would not be too unlikely, it seems to me: simply the fusion of two cells, one sensitive to pain and connected to an away-from effector, the other sensitive to pleasure and connected to a toward effector. Obviously an evolutionary improvement.

It also seems likely to me that intra-sensors would evolve sensitive to the activation of effectors. They would connect to other infra- cells carrying out reactions to, say, a successful capture of prey: a toward effector becomes active due to signals from a sensor sensitive to a certain kind of prey, in which case the outcome should be dinner, so a sensor sensitive to the effector’s activation which is connected to some infra-cell responsible for emitting digestive juices or the like, would be an advantage.

Certain other infra-cells should evolve to allow the step up to memory, but right now I can’t figure out what they might be, so will stop here, for now.

Entry 202 — Back to Gladwell’s 10,000 Hours

Thursday, August 26th, 2010

Certain cranks are questioning the possibility that Shakespeare wrote the works attributed to him on the grounds that he could not have gotten the 10,000 hours of practice at his craft Malcolm Gladwell says every genius needs.  What I want to know is, if Shakespeare had his ten thousand hours when he wrote the Henry VI trilogy, where does it show?  There are serious scholars out there who think Heminges and Condell were lying when they said he wrote them.  Many mainstream critics won’t accept that he wrote certain scenes in them.

I claim that any reasonably intelligent non-genius actor of the time could have used the historians of the time, as Shakespeare did, to have written them.  Add, perhaps, a cleverness with language that some 14-year-olds have.  The only way his histories improved after the trilogy was in the author’s becoming better with words, through practice, of course, but only what he would have gotten from contin- uing to write plays (and doctor plays and–most important–THINK about plays), and getting interested enough in a few of his stereotypical characters to archetize them as he did Falstaff.

It seems to me that the requirements for being a playwright are (1) a simple exposure to plays to teach one what they are; (2) the general knowledge of the world that everyone automatically gets simply by living; (3) the facility with the language that everyone gets automa- tically from simply using them all one’s life.  The rank one as a playwight will depend entirely on his inborn ability to use language, and his inborn ability to empathize with others, and himself.  Of course, the more plays he writes, the better playwright he’ll be, but I’m speaking of people who have chosen to make playwriting their vocation (because they were designed to do something of the sort).

I speak out of a life devoted to writing and having read biographies of dozens of writers.  I would never be able to agree that I’m wrong on this.

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Entry 1471 — A Tweet?

Saturday, May 31st, 2014

The Following is from my diary entry for today.  Have my blog entries now sunk to the level of tweets?

I took my now-standard zoom-dose (a caffeine pill and a hydrocodone pill) a little while ago and am now (11 A.M.) feeling pretty good.  My Civilization game is going well, I finally won two straight games of Hearts when playing it around seven, and just got a string of 11 straight FreeCell wins going.  What more could a boy want?  I’m going to go through my essay on Beauty methodically now.  I need a unifying principle.  I also need something to write about in my blog entry for the day.  Something will come.  “Off to the races!” I think, then recall my father, who—in similar circumstances, albeit quotidian, like starting off on a car trip, not of High Importance like mine—would have said the same thing.  Maybe for my blog I’ll talk about how nice it was of God to make cats for us, but how vile of him to leave so many of us with no parents to show off in front of when we finally make it—or even, as now, happily think we may.  I truly believe I’ll be able to sell this essay to someone if I can just get it right.  That means smooth, right now.  Okay, now—really—off to the races.  (Hey, I think I just wrote my blog entry.)

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Entry 1414 — Azoom

Saturday, April 5th, 2014

Prologue, from my diary entry for 4 April 2014: “In five minutes it will be 2 o’clock.  I, as usual, don’t feel like writing anything.  I can’t think of anything to write.  So, I’m going to give the small zoom-dose a big test.  I haven’t taken one for five or more days.  I will take it at two and see what it makes me write.  I will start with my blog entry for the day, and just write any old thing if nothing else occurs to me.”

My small zoom-dose consists of half of one of my hydrocodone-acetaminophen 10-660 tablets and a caffeine pill supposed to be the equivalent of a cup of coffee (but I can’t remember a cup of coffee doing much for me–probably because the few I’ve had, have been more than half cream  [I never developed a taste for it]).  If I’m addicted to it, I must be a weird addict be cause I avoid taking one as much as I can–just the way I avoid all forms of work!

It seems to be working.  The brilliant title of this entry was the first indication of that.  But I’ll consider it a failure if it doesn’t get me writing something of importance to me, like one of the many reviews I need to get done for Small Press Review.  Or my July/August SPR column.  Maybe that.  It should be easy, for it’s just a continuation of my previous one, a review of a Seattle zine from 25 years ago called Skyviews that I barely got begun, thanks to my introductory remarks.  (Note: it’s 2:22 and I’m already zinging along happily.  But haven’t whirred very close to anything I can use my mood to spout megalomaniacal huzzahs about.  Unless it’s that sentence.  [Note-within-a-note: when I’m in my pharmaceutically-aided zone, I constantly remember friends high on mary j. in my younger days who thought themselves aflow with creativity that I saw no sign of, and wonder if that’s where I am; but I later like what I’ve done.  Biggest symptom is gushfulness–as soon as I finish a sentence, another suggests itself–or several do.  I veer into what I think are either clever or witty asides.  I feel confident, though, that that is what I am at my best, and that dues to old age, I need pills {most of the time} to get there.]  There–proof that I have not gone excessively linguoblivious: I just closed every one of my parenthesized parenthetical expressions.  And now closet this one>)!  Stagoo!

I strongly suspect that the ability to produce yelps of triumph is one of our innate mechanisms.  And with that my zoom seems to have ended.  I have nothing more to say!   453 words only to this point.  But my zoom has not entirely ended: I don’t care!  However many words I’ve done is enough!  Stagoo!

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Entry 1389 — “Cerebrogovernance”

Tuesday, March 4th, 2014

Yeah, another coinage, this one finishing off my full definition of the “G-factor” (or, in my psychology, general cerebreffectiveness component–or full-scale intelligence as opposed to what most credentialed psychologists consider it) as a combination of four cerebral mechanisms: charactration, accommodance, accelerance and–now–cerebrogovernance.  Mechanism in charge of basal cerebral energy level; mechanism in charge of reducing cerebral energy level; mechanism in charge of increasing cerebral energy; and supervisory mechanism in charge of directing cerebral energy (which is effectually the same as directing attention) to and from various awarenesses (or areas of the cerebrum such as the auditory or verbal awarenesses–e.g., the cerebrogovernance might turn off all the awarenesses of a person silently reading except his verbal awaresness and verbal/visual and verbal auditory association areas, then switch him out of all three to his auditory awareness if someone suddenly screams his name).

I think of cerebrogovernance as “little g” and all four cerebreffective mechanisms “big G.”  All the major awarenesses are “big S’s” (for big specific “intelligences”), and their many sub-awarenesses (e.g., the reducticeptual awareness’s matheceptual and linguaceptual sub-awarenesses) are “little s’s.”

I’m gearing up for a Major little essay on my theory of cerebreffective- ness.  But, first I have to finish the first blog entry to the continuation of my Scientific American blog.  I’ve almost finished it, honest, but I keep finding spots to repair, delete or expand, and seem to be avoid what I believe is the thing’s final section (where I went off on a tangent about tragedy, then realized what I had to say about it was too confuse to try to add to my entry).

Meanwhile, I had my cystoscopy.  It went very well, but my problem turned out to be due to a bladder stone the doctor couldn’t removed for some reason so I’ll have to go back next Monday for, I guess, a similar procedure to remove it.  Will find out more Thursday.  Meanwhile, I’ll have to endure another week of sometimes painful difficulty urinating.  Right now I’m in a good mood, though–even though I’m not on hydrocodone.

Speaking of that, I just read in the paper that I’m a hydrocodone-abuser because I sometimes take “just to feel better”–instead, apparently, for a headache back-ache or the like that other pain remedies don’t do much for, which is what my hydrocodone was prescribed for.  It’s so stupid.  A person semi-incapacitated because of a headache should be given a pill but a person unable to do anything that will give his life meaning because he’s in the kind of null zone I get into at times should not be given a pill–unless, I gather, worse off than I am.

My doctor can no longer prescribe the dosage of Hydrocodone he used to, so my latest prescription from him is for half the dosage.  A little silly, since it only means I have to take two pills instead of one to get the effect one was giving me.  I’m going to see how the half-dosage works, though.  I suspect I don’t really need any dosage; I think I only need the caffeine pills.  But who knows, I may end up seeing a shrink to get genuine anti-depressive pills, legitimately.

Of course, the thing that most disgusts me is that I’m not allowed to buy the pills from anyone who wants to sell them to me without a prescription, and take them as I see fit, on the grounds that I should make all final decisions about my body.  Which, of course, could include my decision to put one of my doctors in charge of my thyroid gland, for instance, as I’ve done.

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Entry 884 — Ruminations on Caffeine Plus a Brush-Burr

Sunday, October 7th, 2012

I’ve now had two caffeine-boosted days in a row.  Once again, I’m into what looks to be a null day.  I can’t think of anything it’d be worth taking a caffeine pill, with or without a part-opium pain pill, to work on.  I’d very much prefer not taking anything, but I have so much to do.  So, drug-dependent Bobby has just taken both pills at 11:19 A.M. e.s.t. this 7 October 2012.  

It seems, according to an Internet site, that caffeine is an Once in the brain, the principal mode of action is “a nonselective antagonist of adenosine receptors”–it connects to these receptors, in the process blocking adensonie from them.  Since it has no affect on the receptors, they keep doing what you do, which seems to be keeping us awake, and boosting our apparent and actual energy, so we feel good and work hard.  Adenosine clamps down on wakefulness and energy.  It seems to me a life-extender inasmuch as it slows you down, keeping you from over-doing anything.  I’m sure my adenosine got too influential, I’m not sure why.  I may be that I got to drinking too much Mountain Dew, the caffeine content of which shut down so many adenosine receptors that my body manusfactured a huge number too many of them in compensation.  This is why drugs generally end increasing whatever problem they at first helped one with.  I hope old age is the culprit, screwing me up by intentionally slowing me down, and went too far.  In any case, I may well be headed toward a state in which now amount of caffeine can help me.  My dosage at the moment is pretty low, though–the quivalent of two cups of mosts kinds of coffee.  I don’t see that I have any alternative. 

Well, maybe I do: maybe there some way to poison my adenosine receptors and whatever mechanism builds new ones.  The probable problem with that is that creativity requires wakefulness followed by null zones during which one accumulates necessary new data. . . .

Hey, here’s something else asemic by Nancy Brush-Burr so you’ll get something out of this entry:

 

 

 

While waiting for this image to upload, I thought to myself what a wonderful good deed I was doing for nbb (with whom I’ve exchanged a few letters and/or e.mails but don’t know well–and am wondering if we are distant cousins, the Burr family being prominent in my genealogy [but Aaron is off to the side!]) by giving her work space here and making my everlastingly insightful comments on.  Up there on my peak, I credited her with deserving this favor.  From there my mind went to amusement on the way my drugs bring out my megalomania.  At once, I smiled at myself, observing that I was a megalmonai even without drugs, the difference being that with drugs I am a happy megalomaniac, without them an unhappy one.  A weird kind of manic-depressive, or so I’ve long believed.  Never darkening enough to overcome my instinct to stay alive, nor glistening Sol-levelly enough to go confront Obama in person for not shoveling a few billion of his pay-offs to the 47% to me.

Enough of me (if only for 2.3 minutes): this visimage of Nancy Brush-Burr’s is an absolutely zowwy picture of –hey, maybe my very own communicative excitement at times!  Not a poem, just a terrific representation of language thunder-storming into something glorious.

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Entry 681 — Why I Like Long Division Poetry

Sunday, March 11th, 2012

I think six people have now seen and commented on my Sequences.  17 in all have seen it, if the counter involved is only counting each person’s first visit.  The only slightly negative comment about it came from the one of the very few who made any meaningful comment on it, Endwar, who said he wasn’t all that taken with long division.  Which, I (Moon in Aries!) instantly responded to with a phooey directed at him followed by a description of (some of) my feelings about long division poems: “I don’t think of any of my long divisions as division, but one multiplication and one addition.  I love the idea of objects or images multiplying each other.  Also the complication of the metaphor resulting: the metaphor having three parts: the multiplier, the multiplicand and the process of multiplication.  My long division poems also bring me back to how wonderful I thought the process of long division was when I was first exposed to it.”

I also commented that my long divisions are much more poetic than conceptual, and Endwar leans more to the poeticoceptual than to the conceptipoetic.  As I’m sure I’ve mused before, I feel many people in science (like Endwar although this may not apply to him), are too conceptual to be able to break out of their analytical minds enough to flow into the weirdwhere my long divisions bobble into.

Ha, they may need the mix of APCs and opiated pain pills I sometimes take.  I say that because I took such a mix just twenty minutes ago after being dead-headedly uncreative for a week or more–and look how “creative” my weiords bobbled at the end of the previous sentence.  The lilt up into poeticonceptuality.  Actually, with me, it is an ascent into an energy level sufficient to express whatever poeticonceptuality I have–but others not naturally in the zone may well be helped by such a mix into it.  So, require visitors to my exhibts and readers of my books to take a dose prior to engaging my work?

Meanwhile, the mix continues working on me.  It’s got me into my semi-megalomaniacal zone. “Semi,” because I’m aware that I’m in it, or at least enough aware of my readers to pretend to think I’m in it when IT IS NOT ANY KIND OF MANIA FOR ME TO RECOGNIZE THAT I AM TO JEHOVAH WHAT HE IS TO KOOL-AID JONES.  I do get hilarious when in the zone, don’t I!  Anyway, as I was about to say, I once again wonder why hardly anyone bothers with writings of mine like this one.  So many others have large audiences for similar reflections whose plod is way lower than the deft snipper of mine.  Okay, I’m not quite a Thoreau or Emerson (the first two I can think of whom I hope have contributed to what I try for with my poetic prose–Robert Frost another), but surely, I keep believing (even when not in my possibly megalomaniacal zone, the difference being that I keep my belief to myself then), I’m close enough to them often enough to attract the attention of people who like that kind of writing more than I do.

Two possibilities: I’m more wildly out-of-phase with the zeitgeist than I feel I am–or I’m too boring repeating a long-dead zeitgeist.  I can’t tell, which is why I so much wish I could get feedback from my few readers.  But they are all as creatively other-occupied as I, who rarely am able to critique them!  What I need are academics, and academics are academics because they are innately behind and want to stay there–who can’t not stay there.

I just made up a new category for entries like this one: “Autobiosophy.”  Words about my, uh, wisdom, rather than words about me.  I feel I write a lot more about my thoughts than I do about me, a good reason for my claim that I ain’t no narcissiphist.  Another argument of mine against the latter tag, which has been applied to me, is that I don’t worship myself, I am aware of and point out flaws of mine all the time.  I am balancedly ego-postive and ego-negative.  Or so it seems to me. 

I could go on forever but will try to do it taking care of the reviewing I’m behind on.  Wish me luck.  You needn’t wish me contentedness: the pills have me ridiculously content with the whole universe.

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Entry 540 — My Urethra

Saturday, October 22nd, 2011

I betcha this  entry draw thousands of visitors!  What a compelling title!  What a fascinating topic! 

So, what’s going on?  What’s going on is I’m going to have an in&out urethra procedure carried out this coming Friday.  My surgeon will be using a laser to remove a calcium build-up that’s been giving me urinary problems.  He believes the radiactive seeds I was implanted with twelve or so years ago for prostate cancer caused the build-up. 

Why am I telling you this?  To explain why I’ve been so listless of late, and will be for a while.  I’ve been told not to take any aspirins until I’ve had and recovered from the procedure–to prevent excessive bleeding.  APCs, apparently my only source of zip, is part aspirin, so I can’t take them.

In spite of my listlessness, I have the book for Marton half done.  Two days ago I felt I needed a break from it, so pulled out the chapters I want to add to my book on the Shakespeare authorship question to work on.  It took me a full day to remember what I intended to do, and find the files I had done.  What I want to do is important: it’s to make my explanation of the anti-Shakespeare conspiracy theory thebasis of a general explanation of all conspiracy theories.  I’m hoping that will increase the salability of the book–although I think it important to do, anyway.  I may have all the ideas I need but organizing them is a bear.  And I’s so weary.

 

 

 

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Entry 509 — A Good Month So Far

Wednesday, September 21st, 2011

If I count 31 August as part of September, I’ve come up with 9 new mathemaku in September.  Nine poems in a month isn’t much of an output for most poets, but it’s very good for me.    Actually I only have final copies of four or five, but the others are essentially finished.  I also have essentially have all the terms I jotted down in May for another that have to be written out the way I want them (many in cursive) and backgrounded, and notes for one or two others that are fairly complete.

I wrote the above last night.  It’s now around ten in the morning of the twenty-first of September and once again I’m high on drugs–2 APCs and one tablet of the pain pill with opium that I use on occasion.  As always, I find it unbelievable that a little bit of some chemical or chemicals could make such a difference in me.  I took them because I’m so far behind in my struggle to keep up with the things in my life I consider important, like my next column for Small Press Review, I feel I can’t come close to catching up without chemical help.  (The column, by the way, is now two columns–I did manage to pump far more than enough words into it over the past weeks, but at way too slow a rate, even with the occasional help of my pills.)

I’ll talk over what I’m doing to my body with my gp next time I see him, which should be in three months.  I fear I’ll reach a point at which time the chemicals no longer help me.  I’m concerned, but not as concerned, that I’ll have a heart attack or go crazy–although my usage is not at all high.  Bottom line: I’d rather have three or four more years high than twenty without the pills, or something else that can get me where they get me or close to it.  I can’t say it enough: they astonish me every time.   Without them, I’m almost a car with no gas in its tank; with them, I can operate. 

So, it’s Grumman with his APCs and opium, Leary with his LSD, Freud with his cocaine and tobacco, Coleridge with his opium (Keats used it a bit, too, I believe, even before his tuberculosis), just about all the prominent American authors of the first half of the twentieth century and their alcohol, Balzac and his coffee . . .  Many others.  There are negative examples, too, such as Shaw (one of my greatest heroes) and his abstinence . . . and failure to ascend beyond wonderfully crisp and logical prose to poetry.   The only drug-free artist of the first order I can think of was Shelley–if he indeed was.  

It bothers me that I seem to need drugs no matter how many others in my field did, and regardless of the fact that human beings owe their place in the scheme of things to their being able to improve themselves significantly with external aids (why should we go along with the use of spiked shoes for athletes, say, but not steroids?)  My output is probably no more increased by the drugs I take than by the computer I use.  Still . . .

I am aware of certain negatives in the pill-popping life–lack of focus.  It is hard for me to leave this entry, for example.   Once I’ve managed it, I’ll have trouble choosing the right project to tackle next.  I believe, too, that my critical sense suffers.   No matter.   I will now go to the SPR  column-become-columns and finish them.   (Tarzan yell I’m not sure how to spell here, nor can I execute decently, although I do attempt to.)

Entry 482 — Different Knowings

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

I’ve often mammered here about the effect of pain pills on me.  Recently I’ve taken the one with an opium derivative in it and two APC’s.  The caffeine in the latter may help me.  The two drugs together allow me to act.  I have always found this extremely weird.  The most interesting thing about it (for me), though, is how always it reveals two of my many ways of knowing things to me.   Various portions of what I call my reducticeptual awareness tell me that all these pills do is give me a little extra stimulator-chemicals, or precursors to those–more dopamine, perhaps.  Or less whatever chemical in my brain is inhibiting me.  Simple neurophysiology.

The rest of my awarenesses will never understand this.  How can my brain be so helpless?  How can it sit in my head or do whatever it does wherever it is in me or near me and perceive me at my keyboard unable to type a single simple word that will get me going into a blog entry like this–until, ZING, Mr. Happy Pill and his wife come aboard and say, “Let the dolt type.”

Don’t tell me about placebos.   I don’t seem suggestible.  Marijuana never worked on me, for instance.  Nor chiropractry.  I wanted both to.  Ditto valium that a doctor once gave me for the dead-headedness I’ve experienced on and off for forty years.   Certain remedies for allergies failed while others worked, at least for a time. 

Ah, but I have been suggestible.  A few days after I was diagnosed with prostate cancer, my arms started to ache and became weak; I couldn’t lift them above my head.  My gp at the time, Dr. Hollinger, checked me out and told me he though I was experiencing an anxiety attack.  My symptoms almost immediately disappeared.  I didn’t bother getting the tranquilizer he prescribed for me. 

Still, it was ultimately neurophysiological.  My brain-cells were frantically trying to make new connections to deal with the extreme blow to my self-esteem getting cancer had given me, not to mention the fear of death it got started in me.  It broke down.  I haven’t studied medicine enough to know the details of what happened, but I don’t think my layman’s guess that the brain shifted too much attention from the normal working of my body, particularly in this case my arms, to dealing with the cancer crisis.  So my fundaceptual awareness wasn’t getting enough data to run my arms right.   More important, my execuceptual awareness didn’t have the energy to make my arms move properly–lift when necessary, for example. 

All kinds of distress would occur when they didn’t lift when they normally would, automatically.  Ergo, anxiety and further breakdowns.  Whereupon, my analytical intelligence multiplied the bad effect hugely by telling me I was going to drop dead.  After all, prostate cancer plus the beginnings of paraplegia. 

The simple reassurance my doctor gave me cancelled the anxiety.  I suspect that the relief I felt to hear the cancer hadn’t spread to my armpits, or whatever I feared, upped my endorphins as much as the pills I’m now taking do.  And the good effect held long enough form my brain to work out an effective way to deal with my changed circumstances. 

I took aspirins fairly regularly for headaches, some awfully bad, I thought, between the ages of eight and twelve.  The stress of dealing with people, I’m sure, was at the bottom of it.  Going to school, going to choir practice, things like that.  I don’t remember getting headaches during summer vacations when there was no school or choir practice. 

As I’ve written before, I spontaneously gave up headaches one day in the seventh grade when I vividly remember going down the stairs in the school and knowing that I was over my need for aspirins.  I remember nothing else.  Perhaps I had a headache and I’d suddenly told it to go away and it did.  Or maybe I just realized I hadn’t had a headache for quite a while.  Maybe I’d just experienced something that ordinarily would have given me a headache and it didn’t (although I had no cognitive theory as to why I had them, so could only have guessed I’d had an experience that should have given me one intuitively).  Anyway, I only had headaches a few times a year from then on–except when hung-over, as I occassionally was during my early thirties, when I occasionally went bar-hopping.

I forgot something in my pill-propelled paragraphs above: my bad eyes.  Too much reading, especially without enough light, and perhaps without exactly the right prescription lenses, probably contributed some to my susceptibility to headaches.

Final musing: that I’ve run out of natural endorphins, or a proper supply of them, due to how much I did use them over the years, often going close to genuine mania as a creative artist and thinker.  I keep thinking I shouldn’t use them now, I should let my endocrine system rebuild itself, without pharmaceutical interference.  But it might take too much time.  There’s also the fact that my thyroid gland doesn’t work the way it should anymore (which may well be due to my having been hyperthyroidal most of my life, which was responsible for what I like to think of as my genius, until the overwork the poor gland was doing finally caused it to have a breakdown).

Okay.  It’s six in the evening at this point.  I more or less did my duty as a physical therapy patient.  A forty-minute session at the center I go to.  The bike ride to and from.   A third of my home exercises–but I need only do half of them when I go to the center.  I should have done more but I was too worn out to.  I didn’t take the pills till a couple of hours ago.

I took care of one email this morning.  I got one or two more Small Press Review columns posted in the Pages section here.  (I have to boast, by the way, that I now have 82 columns there.  Four years more of them to go.  I feel proud of them–and did so even pilllessly.  They’re nothing compared with what I might have done–and have occasionally done here and elsewhere–but I continue not to understand, acognitively since my intellect understands, in what way they are inferior to the literary commentary of those getting national attention).

New subject, because of the remarks I’ve made above concerning my True Value to World-Culture.  As I may have said, now that I’m seventy, I’ve decided to be fully honest. I believe one of the things that has me on the margins is lack of social aggressiveness. I believe it’s what kept me from playing varsity basketball in high school, too.

Long story. Maybe I should save it till tomorrow. I have more pills.

Entry 449 — Pill-Popping

Tuesday, May 24th, 2011

Many times in the past, I’ve spoken of the pain pills I’ve taken, or the Mountain Dew I’ve drunk, often noting how one of the other, or both, have helped me out of the Null Zone.  For at least four weeks I almost entirely avoided either.  Once or twice taking a four-hour pain pill before trying to play tennis on my painfully bad left leg.  I think in that time I was never fully out of the null zone, and probably half the time close to fully in it.

Well, I finally decided that I’m a hopeless addict.  Proof is that I took two APCs, which have caffeine, a bit over two hours ago, then a pain pill with an opium-derivative in it a half-hour or so ago, and have done better work since the APCs on the important essay I’ve been slogging through for over a month than I have since beginning it.  And I feel like I can do a full day’s work on it.  Maybe more!

Once back home after the hip replacement operation I’ll be having (in a week), I plan to find some expert on my kind of drug addiction, and find out if I can somehow stay out of the null zone (a reasonable amount of the time) without drugs.  If not, no big deal so long as I can keep having them prescribed for me, and I’m pretty sure I can.  If it costs me a few years of life, so what?  To continue to live as I’ve been living the past month of so would be ridiculous.  In any case, it looks like I’ll have my essay done before I go into the hospital.

I’m feeling very good about it (and was even while in the null zone).  It’s really coming together nicely.  As usual when I’m knocking out material I have a good opinion of, I sing my way into fantasies of finally gaining recognition.  One thing for sure, this time I’m going to keep on the attack with this essay until it is, or I am, done.

Meanwhile, what have I learned from my life that I can pass on to others?  Nothing.  I truly don’t know whether to advise the young to avoid caffeine and pain pills, or to consider them seriously if their energy levels are not as high as they feel they need to be for a satisfying life.  Maybe some people are born with a need for pharmaceutical help, or with a flawed endocrine system that will eventually require it as I eventually required synthroid for my thyroid deficiency.  Or was that caused by a use of caffeine that caused my thyroid to overwork and wear out?  All I can say is that I hope genetic research will finally tell people enough about what they’ve been born with for them to make intelligent decisions about questions like these.  If their genes have given them the capacity to make intelligent decisions.  I don’t think mine did, I don’t think mine would have allowed me to choose suicide at the age of 15 or 24, the two ages at which it would have been best for me to do that.

 

 

 

Entry 449 — Pill-Popping « POETICKS

Entry 449 — Pill-Popping

Many times in the past, I’ve spoken of the pain pills I’ve taken, or the Mountain Dew I’ve drunk, often noting how one of the other, or both, have helped me out of the Null Zone.  For at least four weeks I almost entirely avoided either.  Once or twice taking a four-hour pain pill before trying to play tennis on my painfully bad left leg.  I think in that time I was never fully out of the null zone, and probably half the time close to fully in it.

Well, I finally decided that I’m a hopeless addict.  Proof is that I took two APCs, which have caffeine, a bit over two hours ago, then a pain pill with an opium-derivative in it a half-hour or so ago, and have done better work since the APCs on the important essay I’ve been slogging through for over a month than I have since beginning it.  And I feel like I can do a full day’s work on it.  Maybe more!

Once back home after the hip replacement operation I’ll be having (in a week), I plan to find some expert on my kind of drug addiction, and find out if I can somehow stay out of the null zone (a reasonable amount of the time) without drugs.  If not, no big deal so long as I can keep having them prescribed for me, and I’m pretty sure I can.  If it costs me a few years of life, so what?  To continue to live as I’ve been living the past month of so would be ridiculous.  In any case, it looks like I’ll have my essay done before I go into the hospital.

I’m feeling very good about it (and was even while in the null zone).  It’s really coming together nicely.  As usual when I’m knocking out material I have a good opinion of, I sing my way into fantasies of finally gaining recognition.  One thing for sure, this time I’m going to keep on the attack with this essay until it is, or I am, done.

Meanwhile, what have I learned from my life that I can pass on to others?  Nothing.  I truly don’t know whether to advise the young to avoid caffeine and pain pills, or to consider them seriously if their energy levels are not as high as they feel they need to be for a satisfying life.  Maybe some people are born with a need for pharmaceutical help, or with a flawed endocrine system that will eventually require it as I eventually required synthroid for my thyroid deficiency.  Or was that caused by a use of caffeine that caused my thyroid to overwork and wear out?  All I can say is that I hope genetic research will finally tell people enough about what they’ve been born with for them to make intelligent decisions about questions like these.  If their genes have given them the capacity to make intelligent decisions.  I don’t think mine did, I don’t think mine would have allowed me to choose suicide at the age of 15 or 24, the two ages at which it would have been best for me to do that.

 

 

 

2 Responses to “Entry 449 — Pill-Popping”

  1. marton koppany says:

    Bob,

    Hope the operation will go well and you recover soon!
    Marton

  2. Bob Grumman says:

    Thankee, Friend Marton. I’m optimistic.

    –Bob

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