Odd Observation #15
by Alfred Lehmberg
What do you want from me, you scurrilous and whiny CSIcopian or denialist denizen of errant Klasskurxia? Questioning Sanity so Reasonably Sane, it remains, that among reasonably rational others? I see stuff. Resolved: If consistently seeing's not believing, it's certainly penultimate to it.
I intimate with respect, also, as regards "stuff" on more than one level. Every morning of decent visibility I'd go out... would generally provide me with an opportunity to make the substantive report you read here, I say true.
I'd seen weird stuff, again, one morning... then, more mornings after that... an unending stream of mornings and late nights. There is such a compelling vastness there anyway, and to be at the "perceived" center of it all is humbling where it is not scary, and inspiring where it is not exhilarating...
How does that work? The reader might try the proceeding.
Head and eyes locked as a unit, look left (the better choice in this writer's long experience), and regard where the eye lands. Doing that and not looking, imagine what's behind you. Then imagine your right. Then left.
Ja'do it? No? Well, imagine doing it. The point is that perception goes out from you in every conceivable direction... ...to infinity, even. There is a lot of space/time and surface area to take in. It's an intellectual embrace that, so very quickly, becomes too big for mere imagination... becomes, in fact, wholly unenglishable. Even language extant is defied. In that single imaginative plane regarded? Anything that can... does! All this in a single regarded plane:
Lost in time and dusty space
The reader begins to notice that perception of all this centers on the reader quite apart from any desire to have it so. Indeed, that centeredness can be downright unpleasant living incorrectly, but we won't digress. Remains that from the reader's point of view, the reader is, for good or ill, the center of the universe. It can be no other way. Individual perception is the reality.
Much responsibility there... buying in, giving up... throwing down... it all comes down to you.
When a certain kind of person has an inordinate amount of time with which to "look," they will look, I think. I've been blessed (or cursed depending on outlook) with just that kind of "inordinate" time, and I aspire to be that "certain kind of person" I'll later (and most self-indulgently [g].) try to describe in this piece. I'm precluded by conscience from anything else.
This is a desire that more of us have than not, I believe, and I am in a position, and have the time, to have a really good go at this puzzle, perforce; try to digest what I'm seeing, and then report findings back to you (the contrarily if gainfully involved, understandably distracted and otherwise employed, living hard won and travailed lives). Respect!
In a useful, periodic, and entertaining kind of way, I would take a reader completely out of themselves by suggesting an ironic orientation deeply rooted in themselves. No fiction, or apologies, here. Self-appointed, sure, but "the good borrow and the great steals!" ...or makes the aspiration. Reach exceeding grasp always and forever, but that's a good thing.
It is done, simply, the way it is done, out of respect for the language, and by extension, the reader. I'm not going to talk down to the reader, no, or poke teasingly at the reader's lowest common denominator! NO! Expect an intelligence, and many times get an intelligence. Expect Homer Simpson and get him every time.
I am going to use, arguably, the best word available, in my estimation, regardless, klasskurtxaeladdies and less numerous skepti-lassies! They aren't words that will be used only one time, good reader, they will be used again and again, in all my pieces fore and aft, for good reason. They fit, or what's a language for?!
Moreover, they are words that open up new dimensions in time and space for the individual that goes to the trouble of finding out what they mean that first time... a simple cut and paste into "Google" on the internet for instant gratification (and an expansion to the interior of a reader's perceptual bubble or "known universe) the result of a pleasurable little squirt of dopamine, itself a result of becoming a little smarter for the experience! Such is language.
All things being equal I'd write in a language begging to be revisited, like a song, or like classic words of yore. That's what I aspire to here, with no shame, no embarrassment, and no guile. I'm too old to be pretentious. I would be of respected service, as would any sociophile.
Words are paints and magics and tools and weapons! They travel in time and are as eternal as they are made and preserved. They are teachers, leaders, and entertainers. They are efficiency. They are efficacy. They are immortality!
They are the very COIN and FABRIC of cultural memory! In as much as they paint better, more durable and longer lasting pictures, they are the ART of primary expression! Our culture will survive much, much longer than those of antiquity because (outside the threat of idea [and therefore book!] burning CSICOPians, or the electricity stops working), the consolidation of all literary incantation is going to be very hard to forget. Believe it!
I'm the "kind of person" who will blow his own horn once in a while... because if we don't? It's not too long before a ~funnel~ is made of it, reader, and it loses its ability to be anything BUT a funnel. Pretty soon, there is NOTHING around but "funnels" (the GOP master plan?), too hesitant to contribute to the... efficaciously fertile sonic cacophony of genuine and creative human beings!
That's a terrible tragedy! I say true.
That's part of the present problem, ladies and gentle-bunkies! Give me the "Rebel Alliance" over the "Empire" anytime, if the reader will forgive the George Lucas reference. To many nazis in the "Empire."
Who would I aspire to be eventually? Consider the rapidly depressurizing airliner. All the yellow oxygen masks drop down in the emergency, and your personal experience, education, and training is reflexive, you put your ailing neighbor's mask on him before you put your own on yourself. Yes, you've been admonished by the flight crew to put your own mask on first so you will be around to help a struggling fellow passenger. It's a secondary admonition. Your own self-admonition takes precedence and you blow off the flight crew as forgotten. The flight crew is absolutely correct, but that's not going to matter. Not that, it's like that. I aspire to be of meaningful service.
I've got my mask on in the time allowed me, and I might be able to offer suggestions facilitating a better seal on yours... I would aspire to be around to serve, indeed, I've volunteered for service all my life, doing all sorts of jobs no one else wanted to do. There was satisfaction in them.
I aspire to make original music. It transports me, its only requirement. Others have been similarly effected and I take that for convivial service rendered.
I'm an aspirant artist. I'm not the only one who thinks so. I say that straight out and without pretension. An 'outsider' discovered by Dr. Faye Earnest of Enterprise State College (who produced a one man show of my, actually award winning, work), I represent an art community with no formal training in it. I push the physical materials or light media around in ways to satisfy me, without regard to convention or tradition and so I am unhindered by the "conventional wisdom" of what "does" and "does not" work.
I aspire to write. Words are just another box of paint to me—another art to reflect what is perceived as truth. I do what an artist does. I don't know any better.
I'm a whistle-blower. This is a quality that I didn't realize I had until very recent reflection, years after the fact, demonstrated it to be true. In the military, I would flirt with disloyalty to my superiors when they would operate in arbitrary manners that, knowingly and thoughtlessly, abused the troops or were dangerous and illegal. I "blew the whistle" on them. I was instrumental in getting more than a few of my superiors relieved for cause. It was not pleasurable even in service to people.
Who are "they", the aforementioned psychopaths? Already asked and answered. Check the archives.
I'm a trained military observer (I used to teach observation techniques as a flight standardization officer in the Army) as I hope this series has demonstrated. I'm not given to taking apples for oranges, satellites outside their forecast, pelicans for costumed super-heroes, or UFOs for thrown pie plates. I'm not a believer, but at the same time, I am not a reflexive disbeliever.
My faith is in my left leaning compatriots from whom my salvation was ever secured. It's disingenuous to levy that those human hands alluded to were divinely inspired. No. Individual HUMANS were their own inspiration.
...Sorry that an employment of that same capability (in the interests of the rout and general destruction of CSIcopia?) scorches CSIcopian prairie oysters, but that's the way the saucer crashes and the way we roll in the ufological hood!
Buckle up... enjoy the dying thrashings of elitist reductionist Empire, something better is ~sure~ to rise from the dust and ashes. [g].
That's enough. I remain watching the skies.