ORIGINAL IMPRES(SIN)’
“A man talking sense to himself is no madder than a man talking non-sense to not himself”- Rosencrans and Gildenstern are dead
(While sitting intently in contemplative solitude, I am pleased by a conclusive statement that occurs to me after long deliberation, which I speak aloud to an audience of none...or so I think):
"Sense is a just a perceptible pattern in thought."
Quite accurate! And non-sense is a poorly organized flight of ideas!
(I'm startled by the interruption and sudden presence of an Other. I respond, obviously annoyed):
Hey! Don’t talk back to me when I'm thinking out loud!
But I'm in your head.
Who are you?
A distinct conglomeration of your insanity.
You created me to help you sort out your hyper-vigilant philosophastering.
Are you saying you’re some kind of self-inflicted idiotropic schism in my mind?
Yes, I'm an imagined caricature of yourself who’s been delegated the task of acting out this specific mental disorder you’ve craftily scripted.
I'm an anthropomorphized externalization of internal conflict.
Self induced insanity to make better sense of sense itself doesn’t make any sense.
Sense is what you make of it.
Is making sense of the senseless pointless?
If the creation of new possibilities is pointless then, yes.
So that means, “No”.
Yes.
Well if sense is what I make of it, then sense doesn’t exist if I don’t make any.
Sense isn’t essential to existence; it’s just a chosen program for functional follow through within a designated context.
And what if I don’t exist?
Other sensible formulations still exist, but not in the way only you would make them.
So is there a larger propagator of sense?
You can call that God.
And then who, or what, made God?
(Other produces a coin which is gracefully flipped in one fluid gesture, catches it in clasped hands, then places cupped palm with coin on back of opposite hand.)
Heads.
(Other lifts top hand to reveal coin facing up on heads.)
Lucky guess.
And heads tend to tell tales.
Chance is lazy synchronization.
A self-proclaimed "lucky" individual suffers from "Modest God Complex".
(Other flips coin again, catches it in clasped hands, then places cupped palm with coin on back of opposite hand.)
And tales often make sense.
(Other lifts hand to reveal coin facing up on tails.)
This is no coincidence…
You’re doing it on purpose.
The God’s bend the odds in your favor when you favor them bending for you.
Why?
That’s the fun part. You get to decide.
Did you know “GOD” is an acronym for ‘Generator of Design”.
Design is a decorative creation, a skillful scheme, a structured project, and purposeful pattern.
Pattern is just a habituated series of sameness, a template of conformity, and servitude to expectation.
Patterns are so Polly-Anna.
And “GOD” is also an acronym for ‘Giant Obtuse Dick”.
So what do you have to say about unlucky people?
Ah, that would be “Maladroit God Complex”.
Is this a joke?
An inside joke.
Who else is in on it?
Anyone who cares to pay attention.
Who would want to eavesdrop on my internal dialogue?
Psychic pan-handlers, sympathetic seekers, epiphany enthusiasts, cutting edge voyeurs of consciousness, and a variety of other sentient insighters.
Furtive cognition is a tragically comedic existential goldmine.
Did I create them too?
The degree to which you created them depends on who you’re asking about and from what level of speculation you ask.
Sounds like you’re saying the answer is circumstantial.
Always.
But that answer isn’t circumstantial!
We’re talking in circles!
Spirals.
(three spheres, each one a different primary color, appear before them almost as if out of thin air and Other begins juggling them.)
What’s the point?
Entertainment.
To formulate new combinations of collaborative cogitation.
To inspire and delight in new experimentation.
This is how worlds are born.
But there is nothing new under the sun, everything has already been said, thought, and done.
Not in the way WE'RE doing it.
(as Other jovially juggles, the spheres start changing colors and developing ornate smatterings which blend, swirl and re-arrange magically on their own accord, the balls blacken before becoming luminescent orbs then disappear as if melting back into the atmosphere.)
How do you know?
Because if it has already happened, it couldn’t be happening right now.
Maybe you’ve forgotten.
Everything we think is 97% non-local to present awareness.
Original thought involves forward thinking.
The majority of all thoughts we think everyday is just a recycled feedback loop.
Even history repeats itself.
Repetition is the enemy of freedom and tyranny of mind.
“History doesn’t repeat itself,
but it does rhyme.”
You’re quoting someone!
Mark Twain.
See he’s already said that before!
But he’s never said it this way, at this moment, through me to you.
What’s so special about being original anyway?
Symmetry is the commercial qualifier for beauty.
And symmetry is merely finite repetition.
You don’t have to invent everything all over again to be original.
Someone already invented the wheel to get the ball rolling, now don’t let your ego spoil the ride.
Something only has to be original enough to instigate a ripple.
It’s the initial point of occurrence so other interpretations may transpire.
The first dot drops so the polka can dance.
And the dance…is a beautiful pattern.
The more accurately any organism incorporates the geometry and measurement of “Phi” into its structure the more perfect it is by majority rules.
Beauty and perfection are formulaic and archetypal regurgitate.
‘Phi’ is a well orchestrated blueprint.
Ironically, ‘Phi’ itself is asymmetrical.
Every pattern has is own set of standards.
Some patterns are more popular or better suited for bigger jobs.
A dynamic blueprint is fit for repeated export.
Dynamism of pattern and multi-functionality imply enhanced capacity.
Intelligence is implied by effective design.
If it works, it’s intelligent.
The better it works, the more employed it will be by many.
But this design works to what end?
Connection is a key component of the infinite, the eternal.
It doesn’t have to work on a large scale, but the more inclusive and comprehensive it is, and the more universal it is, the more connected it is.
An isolationist existence is an unsustainable reality; it’s finite, terminal...dead.
Man is not a static creature.
Evolution is a natural function of life.
Translation is infinite.
Translation is evolutionary.
Metamorphosis is revolutionary.
The end just keeps on beginning.
Yeah sure okay fine...
But enhanced pattern recognition is directly correlated with heightened dopamine levels in the brain.
Recognizing patternicity stimulates dopamine production and can be induced by certain drugs.
Pattern recognition is a geodesic opiate.
The more connection you see the more out of touch you are with others, assuming they are not high too.
To create meaning out of random events and order out of a chaotic environment is habit forming, the patterns may not be visible outside of your own believing, but either way, you are still chemically rewarded for thinking so.
And believing in your own stories resolves fear of the unknown.
It’s escapism and the non-acceptance of reality.
We are addicted to confabulation.
Observable reality is not the measure of truth.
Everything is true, but it becomes truer for you when you choose to validate it, to invest the value of your attention and integrate it further into your experience.
Truth and material reality are contrastive in that physical existence is a densified version of: T(hought)+A(ction).
Action can only follow thought.
To believe in something first invites it into being.
Texturized randomization can also be a pattern.
Yes, but shared perceptibility is the hallmark of consensus reality and sanity.
Chaos is true.
Yes but when chaos becomes recognizable, it has already become a pattern, albeit a disjointed pattern.
The longer you pay attention to it, the more meaning you are likely attach to it, to stablize it in your awareness.
And the more rhythmic it is, the more stable it is.
If it is stable it has a better chance for survival.
Large scale chaos is best in short spurts, and is not well suited for long term material existence.
So then a coordinated continuum of information is characteristic of sanity, whereas clumsily strung or fragmented data is considered…? It’s…?
Insanity.
So where does that leave me?
(Lights in room flicker. Silence.)
Hello?
(I look up and all around inquisitively into the silence.)
Is anyone there?
(Asking imploringly, still hopeful the silence will speak up.)
Hello?
(My poise relaxes, surrendering to the silence.)
Hello?
(Just saying it now autonomically, standing up astutely, staring out stoically, motionless and expressionless.)
(Silence. The silence somberly whispers itself to life. It becomes a soundless rustling of illusion; a subtle sampling of the void. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. The word “silence” no longer makes sense, it dissolves into itself like a demential memory, a diaphanous ouroboros subliminally slithering about on phantasmagoric canvas eating it's own nothingness.)
(Lights begin flickering rapidly creating a strobe effect.)
(I begin fading out of sight like a deactivating hologram, my last cry descending in an echo with me. )
Helloh-ohhh
ohhh
ohh
oh
o...
o...
o…
…
…
?
?
?
(The Doors Song "People are Strange" comes on.)
(Other appears on stage shuffling a deck of cards. Other fans the cards out, showing
the audience a full deck. Other shuffles the cards, cuts them a few times, then collapses them into a neat stack, before fanning them out once again, this time face down in front of a member of the crowd, offering them in a suggestive manner so this person may select a card. The chosen individual scans the deck and picks a card out. It is the joker card. Other then reveals the deck to the entire audience. It is now a deck full of only joker cards. Smiling devilishly, Other tosses the cards up in the air. Room goes black. Song ends.)
The Beginning.
people are strange
*Thank you, Daniel Noah, for throwing a cool theme performance party and instigating the madness. Thank you, Mark Nager, for being a magician and teaming up in theory. Thank you, Shane Easton, for your input, inspiring the end and conspiring in performance.
