Politifact rates your symphony false

This is one reason I respect Jordan Peterson’s pragmatism on a pragmatic level, even as I think it’s a crappy theory of truth. I can imagine a version of him saying (I don’t know if the real one does) “Look, I’m giving you all of these inspirational slogans. You can pick my science and philosophy and mythography apart if you really want, but are you sure you want to do that? You’ll just ruin my attempt to inspire you, and go back to lying on the couch all day wishing you had a reason to get up in the morning.”

Maybe aliens would view it as a tragic quirk of the human psyche that we have to conflate inspiration and truth. Maybe to them, inspiration is just another genre, closer to art or poetry than to an attempt to describe the world as it is. Maybe to them, if there’s an intuitively satisfying explanation of the meaning of life, asking “Is that really the meaning?” or “Is that really true?” would be just as stupid and annoying as nitpicking the lyrics of Ode To Joy. “Ode to Joy says ‘all creatures drink of joy’, but some creatures are unhappy, and joy is not a liquid! Politifact rates your symphony FALSE.”

— “Highlights from the Comments on Twelve Rules“, Slate Star Codex

You notice that vibrating soundless hum in the Socco? That means someone is making archetypes in the area and you’d best evacuate right now.

– “Lee’s Journals”, William S. Burroughs

Best Evacuate

Ol’ Empty-Full Eyes

So, he introduced me to Buddhism in the form of song. As you may know, Kerouac admired Frank Sinatra for his crooning enunciation, for his oratory, for his clarity of speech, for the precision with which he pronounced the affective emotional content of his vowels. And so, like Frank Sinatra, the first direct Buddhist word I heard from Kerouac’s mouth after letters, was his singing of the Three Refuges. So, that would be the next step.

— Allen Ginsberg, “Negative Capability: Kerouac’s Buddhist Ethic
Tricycle, Fall 1992

America the charnel ground

The America that our parents and grandparents grew up in, that colossus, is gone for good. Western civilization is in a death spiral. And humanity as we know it is not long for this earth.

This, by the way, regardless of whether we obliterate ourselves (in a nuclear holocaust or unforeseen systems collapse) or manage to make it to the Singularity.

My whole cohort might be vaporized, or cannibalized by our stranger-neighbors in a not-so-cold civil war. Alternatively, we get past it all, and are merged by AI into an optimization (pleasant or not) that has no interest in our individuality or in the human life cycle.

Our gonads might not survive intact; our progeny may yet be infinite, formless intelligence. Either way, we might be among the last to give our parents grandkids.

The only prediction I’m willing to make is that the rate of change will become unbearable if we continue to cling to things as they are. And we’re all doing it. In fact, I notice that I’ve become more prone to it than I once was, as I’ve seen more of the world, developed deeper relationships, and cultivated empathy.

The long 2016 has been a mindfuck—for the first time, I’m not bullish about America’s prospects. Everyone’s at each other’s throats, and we all know it. Visions of apocalypse have begun to take on an intuitive quality (that said: intuiting isn’t believing).

When The Better Angels Of Our Nature came out in 2012, I ate it up. Suddenly, The Black Swan seems much more important.

It would be best if I started regarding America, the West, and humanity in general the way the Tibetan masters regard a charnel ground (the place where bodies are laid out to be scavenged and burned)—as sites to viscerally experience the occasionally liberating, often horrifying truth: that all things pass, no matter how much we care about them.

And out of this awful awareness, cultivate a more ambient, less possessive sense of compassion.

The romance of Semitic

Most researchers of Semitic morphology refer to the principal characteristic of Semitic morphology as non-linear or non-concatenative. Namely, instead of morphemes being placed linearly, one after the other before or after the word stem, as prefixes and suffixes, as in English, the morphemic structure of Semitic words is characterized by at least two morphemes interwoven (or interdigitated) within each other in a discontinuous (or non-concatenative) manner. One morpheme is inserted into the other (call it template, pattern, or scheme) in certain slots of the word stem structure. As two morphemes, the root and the template are incomplete in every respect, morphologically, phonologically, and semantically, until they merge to form a word or a word stem.

— Joseph Shimron, Language Processing and Acquisition in Languages of Semitic, Root-Based, Morphology