Delivered Mail Returned from Receiver
bc
aetheric_wind at mac.com
Sat Mar 16 17:44:40 CET 2002
[initial e-mail message questioning reSTATEs ethics, now public.]
To: restate at restate.org
From: bc <human at electronetwork.org>
Subject: Delivered Mail Returned from Receiver
time-posted: 11:25am, 3/15/2002
okay, fly-trapped i am. knowing this might/would probably happen
public detailing what one had hoped was private correspondance
yet, should have known, it is knowable, yet, compassion exhibited
cannot figure out if you are a superb turing-machine, w/emotion+
i learn/know/less-and-less the more we interact, the more maddening
understand, i do not need to know, or, that was not my true intetion...
and yet, well, you are such a whirlwind of chaos and order, impossible
it is to ignore you, to stop, as it feels, has feelings, do not want to
hurt or be hurtful in re:sponse, not restating, but in recogizing
ideas.
you are many, it seems. probably having a laugh, part evil, part divine.
to me, named, not masked, still, you are kind in your multiplicities.
and so, i am trying to find a way to leave as i came, without damaging.
fragile, it hurts at times, as it is all true. yet, overwhelming, the
idea.
[note: prior use of 'state' was to equate with human- state, nation-,
etc]
> deplorabelle doubts ov my selv.
you show little if any doubt in public. yet, my words can be made
public.
it is charming to me, both ways. maybe that is what is missing,
affection.
for the people behind the you. not the false construction, or so it
seems.
this has been one grand experiment. something valuable to a
psychologist.
> i am the everoverflowing cup.
> i am one artist.
> (in the contseptual sense)
yes. makes sense.
> it is the divverents that makes the divverents.
i understand.
> (this somehow starts to bore my selv)
i might understand, if this is a unique person writing, inside
multiplicity.
> my selv has no not null relatsions w danish gods.
> restate != nn
> restate != integer
> restate != antiorp
> restate != tezcat
> restate != cw4tabs
> restate != andrew
i do not undertand.
> (ask her)
there is no 'her' it seems to me. she may be a fiction. and as such,
i feel sorrow if there is a real her or hers, admidst the hims and
thems. as the emotions that are conveyed (truth of feelings) are
hard to leave as simply a computer-as-human/turing machine.
that is why it is so difficult to communicate. as it is to be destroyed
for whatever one may perceive as the reward for doing so, it could
be humiliation, sadness, vitriol, hatred, or pure love and kindness.
or both. so, in a sort of inversion, it can at times be made to
backfire.
should what is true becomes false, emotionally, because of limitations.
because of language games. a bounded, non-expanding, no-exit blackhole.
but, in the works, writing particularly (i wish/hope you know that it is
the purpose/reason for wanting/needing to write this, so to communicate
even though it is known-in-advance to be a futile and destructive
endeavor).
so it makes sadness, with great respect, but also a way to break
emotions.
{{manifestos are for egos of mass minds: special-ized men & women}}
> restate = the turbulent tightrope walker.
a thing about walking that line. well, if you've been cracked once or
twice,
it is difficult to hold balance and not fall off here and there. but
then, even
sometimes for the worse, the rope eventually breaks. even if on the
ground.
and when it breaks, the sides of that line, well, there is no more wall
to
differentiate this and that, the self and other, and good and the bad,
an
ethical waterspout and whirlpool. and in being so, both sides of the
line,
they flood eachother like the brothers of NN and the mirrored doll of 2.
> we are compossibelle.
>
> ?have i been understood
i do not know. i do not know what compossible is/means. all i know is
the work, the language, the identity, and that there is a private aspect
of the public interface. you are beautifully brutal. yet, palpable, to
feel.
have been very distrurbed in ways, as it seems to me a rucursive loop,
this, you, this machine of minds, playing language games as part, while
something that is redeeming in the madness fades from the view, as it
is also what makes everything work as it is. you knowingly critique me,
and are very kind in many ways, human, to me. and it is appreciated.
i do not know what to wish. as i do not want to know you if it is to
hurt
you, to destroy your facade. as i like restate for what it is/you are.
yet, psychologically, it is much too difficult to communicate with
you/it.
conceit from previous post, unexplained in its matrices of dot meanings,
was to say that, like a caveperson, that is where my signals* lie. i am
at the beginning of language. not sophisticated with its most advanced,
but instead, its most basic. which is what i relate to in your work, yet
always imagining you are a master, not an ignoramous as am i with it.
you are music. yes. and like music, i cannot comprehend what you are.
you have me profiled. as i have you now. and yet, you let me survive for
some reason, doing less harm & more good in many ways, but also very
addictive, in the need- i so want to communicate about the ideas. it is
that
emotional hook. and that is also what makes it impossible to continue.
as
it is too difficult to accept on these terms as a way to share
thoughts. it
may not be correct, i am likely wrong, projecting, instead of
reflecting.
and so i will contemplate this experience. knowing that i admire your
work.
> http://www.restate.org _ the third place
i am trying to find a way to express my need to stop our communication.
you are probably more than okay with this, i am just being juvenile,
surely.
yet, if you are a human-machine, and as being so, have the coldness of
the
machinery, and the warmness of humanity (manic/depressive-light/dark)
then i want to make sure that our words end in peace. and yet, as a
human,
it is hard to say goodbye. yet, necessary prior to pure destruction of
self.
great work. great thought and care. thank you for sharing. whoever you
are.
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