Breathing in only doubt
Jan. 27th, 2007 11:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greygirlbeastYesterday, I wrote 1,934 words, which makes yesterday my second-most productive writing day during this forced march to THE END. Not bad, nixar. Now, see if you can't do better today.
I've decided to extend the offer of a FREE signed copy of the trade paperback of Silk to new Sirenia Digest subscribers. The offer is now good until midnight on January 31st, as it seems to be attracting new subscribers, and new subscribers are always welcome. Also, new subscribers need to e-mail Spooky (crk_books(at) yahoo(dot) com) their snail mail addresses. Otherwise, we cannot send the FREE book.
A decent enough Kid Night last night. We rented Terry Jones' mostly marvelous Erik the Viking (1989) from Movies Worth Seeing (where it seemed I'd not been in ages). I'd seen the film two or three times, but Spooky hadn't, and I have a soft space for it in my heart. Sadly, Sony canceled the DVD release last year, so we had to go with VHS (pan and scan, urgh) and chase the spiders out of the VCR. Very quaint. Anyway, I'd not realised until last night that Jim Broadbent has a cameo/bit part at the very beginning, when Erik is "raping" Helga. It's a very funny movie, except when it isn't, and that's about the best I can ask of anything these days. Then I played a couple hours worth of Final Fantasy XII, at last managing to escape the Draklor Laboratory in Archades and defeat Cid and his four little robot thingies. Afterwards, we went to bed, and I read Sonya's new story for Sirenia Digest #14 — "A Voice in Caves" — which has turned out to be a very nice counterpoint to my own "The Sphinx's Kiss." For those of you who've been wanting to see more gay male fiction in the digest, this issue's for you. Later still, Spooky made me cocoa. It was after three a.m. (CaST) before I found sleep.
Oh, and yes, as implied above, I did leave the house yesterday, for a full hour or so. I have become quite intrepid.
I see there will be a new VNV Nation disc — Judgment — out on March 7th. Good news I needed.
—————
Honestly, I'm seeing very little in the way of negative criticism regarding Daughter of Hounds. Though I have noticed a few complaints about there being too much dialog (???) and too many "dream sequences." The latter complaint, which I should add my agent has also voiced, follows in part, I think, from a misunderstanding of the nature of "reality" in much of what I write. There are a few genuine dream sequences in Daughter of Hounds, but a lot of what I think some people are reading as dreams were intended as something else. They may appear dreamlike, but only because certain consensus assumptions are held so dear about "waking reality." At any rate, I find both these criticisms rather specious and am paying them little heed.
—————
I have spent almost my whole life living inbetween. It's what I do, mostly, existing in transitional zones and connecting hallways. But lately (meaning since sometime in 2002), I have been struggling with a new sort of inbetween, which has placed me in an especially deep conflict with myself. A tug-of-war between the old rational me and an unexpected me bent upon seeking out and understanding magick (here defined as "the willful invocation of awe," though other definitions may be pending), even when it threatens my comfortably mechanistic worldview. It feels at times as though I am being torn in two, and I know how that feels, having been divided more than once already. Mostly, though, the division does not occur. And neither side gains any ground. So I live uneasily inbetween, like some Matthew Arnold cosmology. Too mystical for the scientists, too skeptical for the witches and magickians. At this point, I would prefer to either move forward or go back. In or out. Shit or get off the pot, as Byron would say. Sometimes, I seem to be waiting on something, something which often seems very near, and other times I seem merely indecisive. Except...decision and resolve are both useless here, or nearly so. I cannot will myself into belief or faith. As Anne Sexton said, "Need is not quite belief." Oh, I have need aplenty, but, for me, belief comes only from experience. And, thus far, my experiences leave me neither here nor there. They leave me undecided and still asking questions.
It's like a season that breeds neither snow nor green grass, neither rain nor drought, but only despair. I know that simple despair is no longer fashionable, but then neither am I.
I did have this thought two nights ago, and it seemed important: One must not be skeptical merely for the sake of skepticism. It is not an end unto itself. Critical thought should have the intent of bringing one nearer truth (even if Truth is ultimately unobtainable). It is not the goal of critical thought to tear down, but to build up, to let in the light, to sweep aside ignorance and superstition and fear.
These thoughts are ill-formed and poorly expressed, and I apologise for my inability to articulate.
—————
The platypus says enough's enough. Them words ain't gonna write themselves.
I've decided to extend the offer of a FREE signed copy of the trade paperback of Silk to new Sirenia Digest subscribers. The offer is now good until midnight on January 31st, as it seems to be attracting new subscribers, and new subscribers are always welcome. Also, new subscribers need to e-mail Spooky (crk_books(at) yahoo(dot) com) their snail mail addresses. Otherwise, we cannot send the FREE book.
A decent enough Kid Night last night. We rented Terry Jones' mostly marvelous Erik the Viking (1989) from Movies Worth Seeing (where it seemed I'd not been in ages). I'd seen the film two or three times, but Spooky hadn't, and I have a soft space for it in my heart. Sadly, Sony canceled the DVD release last year, so we had to go with VHS (pan and scan, urgh) and chase the spiders out of the VCR. Very quaint. Anyway, I'd not realised until last night that Jim Broadbent has a cameo/bit part at the very beginning, when Erik is "raping" Helga. It's a very funny movie, except when it isn't, and that's about the best I can ask of anything these days. Then I played a couple hours worth of Final Fantasy XII, at last managing to escape the Draklor Laboratory in Archades and defeat Cid and his four little robot thingies. Afterwards, we went to bed, and I read Sonya's new story for Sirenia Digest #14 — "A Voice in Caves" — which has turned out to be a very nice counterpoint to my own "The Sphinx's Kiss." For those of you who've been wanting to see more gay male fiction in the digest, this issue's for you. Later still, Spooky made me cocoa. It was after three a.m. (CaST) before I found sleep.
Oh, and yes, as implied above, I did leave the house yesterday, for a full hour or so. I have become quite intrepid.
I see there will be a new VNV Nation disc — Judgment — out on March 7th. Good news I needed.
—————
Honestly, I'm seeing very little in the way of negative criticism regarding Daughter of Hounds. Though I have noticed a few complaints about there being too much dialog (???) and too many "dream sequences." The latter complaint, which I should add my agent has also voiced, follows in part, I think, from a misunderstanding of the nature of "reality" in much of what I write. There are a few genuine dream sequences in Daughter of Hounds, but a lot of what I think some people are reading as dreams were intended as something else. They may appear dreamlike, but only because certain consensus assumptions are held so dear about "waking reality." At any rate, I find both these criticisms rather specious and am paying them little heed.
—————
I have spent almost my whole life living inbetween. It's what I do, mostly, existing in transitional zones and connecting hallways. But lately (meaning since sometime in 2002), I have been struggling with a new sort of inbetween, which has placed me in an especially deep conflict with myself. A tug-of-war between the old rational me and an unexpected me bent upon seeking out and understanding magick (here defined as "the willful invocation of awe," though other definitions may be pending), even when it threatens my comfortably mechanistic worldview. It feels at times as though I am being torn in two, and I know how that feels, having been divided more than once already. Mostly, though, the division does not occur. And neither side gains any ground. So I live uneasily inbetween, like some Matthew Arnold cosmology. Too mystical for the scientists, too skeptical for the witches and magickians. At this point, I would prefer to either move forward or go back. In or out. Shit or get off the pot, as Byron would say. Sometimes, I seem to be waiting on something, something which often seems very near, and other times I seem merely indecisive. Except...decision and resolve are both useless here, or nearly so. I cannot will myself into belief or faith. As Anne Sexton said, "Need is not quite belief." Oh, I have need aplenty, but, for me, belief comes only from experience. And, thus far, my experiences leave me neither here nor there. They leave me undecided and still asking questions.
It's like a season that breeds neither snow nor green grass, neither rain nor drought, but only despair. I know that simple despair is no longer fashionable, but then neither am I.
I did have this thought two nights ago, and it seemed important: One must not be skeptical merely for the sake of skepticism. It is not an end unto itself. Critical thought should have the intent of bringing one nearer truth (even if Truth is ultimately unobtainable). It is not the goal of critical thought to tear down, but to build up, to let in the light, to sweep aside ignorance and superstition and fear.
These thoughts are ill-formed and poorly expressed, and I apologise for my inability to articulate.
—————
The platypus says enough's enough. Them words ain't gonna write themselves.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 09:39 pm (UTC)I can very much relate to what you're saying about being in and out at the same time, mostly because I don't believe anything I haven't experienced. (Now that you've been reading my journal a little, you might know what I'm talking about.) And most people who are into the things that I work with do so on faith to some degree. I haven't a drop of faith in my body. I've simply experienced a lot of things and want to give them meaning -- or maybe refine the meaning I might have assigned some years ago.
As a result, I recently started calling myself a "spiritual scientist." I absconded with the word from Sam Harris (not someone I like a lot, but his term I liked immensely). It's a legitimate stance in my world. I suspect it's exactly what your world is about, too.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 10:35 pm (UTC)See my comments above in response to
I want to caution people not to align themselves with me. I truly have not done a good job of making myself understood. Here, for instance, I would never refer to myself as a "spiritual scientist," as I do not accept to existence of spirits, in either a broad or narrow sense. For me, this is not at all about spiritualism (though it may have a great deal to do with psychology). And as science cannot yet demonstrate or disprove the existence of spirits, spiritualism is generally something which exists well beyond the boundaries of science. I would therefore call the phrase "spiritual scientist" an oxymoron. At least until such time as there is some means whereby physicists or biopsychologists or whoever can empirically investigate the possible existence of spirits or souls or what have you.
Now that you've been reading my journal a little, you might know what I'm talking about.)
Another example here. Reading your journal, I see that you are an astrologer, and, in all honesty, I must admit that I find astrology to be one of the most unlikely of all occult studies. I know enough about celestial mechanics and astronomy, physics and gravity, etc. & etc., to know that, from my POV and that of science, that there is simply no way that distant galaxies or even relatively nearby planets may affect the fate of human beings. And yet I will not discount that astrology may have great personal importance to you. But, still, this is a good example of why I would caution people not to be too quick to side with me on these matters. I have not made myself clearly understood at all, I fear.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 04:51 pm (UTC)Fair enough, regarding definitions and individual pursuits. I don't think Sam Harris means the "scientist" part of that term in a sense like a biologist or chemist, where exact measurements are made and evaluated, but rather in a sociological, psychological or anthropological sense, where behavior is examined. If I'm not mistaken, in this sense he's referring to the gathering of personal experiences and comparison that against those of others, rather than blindly accepting other people's experiences. But I'll take your word for it that you're doing something different. (Incidentally, you have lots of very smart, articulate readers. Wolven included.)
I know enough about celestial mechanics and astronomy, physics and gravity, etc. & etc., to know that, from my POV and that of science, that there is simply no way that distant galaxies or even relatively nearby planets may affect the fate of human beings.
And you would be absolutely right.
The theory I've been playing with (and I don't know if anyone shares it) is that it's got nothing to do with the planets directly, but rather with something else that is finely tuned to the celestial bodies. This something else is the intermediary that bring the "weather" into our lives; it cannot at this time be detected or known, that's for sure. It's important to me because of its repeated accuracy over the years. (As an aside, I was originally a biology major in college before I turned to writing, and an amateur astronomer for many, many years.)
I do hope, as time goes by, we'll get to hear more of your thinking. I'm always fascinated by and delighted to hear the thinking and path forging of highly intelligent, creative people like yourself.