You Will Be Obscure

“Mä voisin olla Kuvataideakatemian käynyt ja silti yhtä obscure and culturally irrelevant as now.”
(diary entry, June 25, 2015)

Lesson 1: You will be obscure. The question is—will you survive it?

In 2015, I stood between disciplines, identities, and eras.

Not quite an artist, not quite a strategist.
A former senior manager from Nokia, now sitting in Tokoinranta with a notebook, haunted by the ghosts of corporate relevance and artistic irrelevance.
Folding in 4 years, 5 months of silence into a single realization:

I had a secret. And that secret would change everything.

It wasn't a plan. It wasn't a product. It was a threshold—a recognition that the path forward would not be found by asking which career title to choose, or which platform to post on, or which job to apply for.

It would be found by accepting obscurity.

Radical obscurity.

Not as failure, but as a mythological phase-state—a kind of chrysalis. The necessary darkness before a true form can emerge. A state where systems dissolve and new identities are composed of fragments, metaphors, dreams, and doubt.

“Taide. Strategia. Tietojenkäsittelytiede.
Yritysympäristössä mä loistin. Avoimessa maailmassa stumbling.” (July 12, 2015)

I didn’t know it yet, but I had begun mythologizing my own practice.
Not building a portfolio.
Not chasing recognition.
But letting the formless period do its real work.

Lesson 1 is this: If you're between identities, between careers, between structures—stay there. Stay. Observe the obscure. Survive the irrelevance.

Because if you can survive your own obscurity, something unreplicable begins to form inside it.

And one day—years later—you will find yourself standing on the cliff edge, speaking again. But this time, not as a seeker. As a signal.

Maa Kuu, A New Dawn, digital image, 2025

Infinite Clouds

Infinite clouds forming a circle around me, and I soon realised that I must be a man of long experience and a bit of ancient magic, and of a very great deal in that far and unwhispered world of the dreamland. I still fancied that I was in the dreamland, and that my mind and senses were so far the totality of the surrounding universe.

I began to doubt what the dreamland was like, and to try to recall the old legends of the place and of the place itself as I could; for of all the possible objects and of the strange, the only thing I could remember was the dreams of the half-articulate dreamer, and the other objects which I had seen in the dream.

Restless but noble, my mind was still shaken by those dizzy revelations which I had once shared with my other self and my body in those remote, half-suspected lands where primal and half-fabulous seaport wonder had poured. Helpless, I succumb to the noise and fever of 21st century and all the long-suspected psychic struggle that shall follow me, and that I may awake the memory and the pain of that terrible moment I shall remember.

(That is why I am afraid of the physical reality of life as my own brain has known. My brain knows it. And I laugh at the things I acquire.)

Infinite clouds floating towards the horizon in aethered order. I was now at a loss what to do in view of the limited length of my course, and whether I could do justice to the reality of my experiences or the way of my visions. Untiring, enticing, spacitudeous, and in the unknown. The thing is always in the air—in the air, at the proper time, and under the unknown, and still with a strange blankness and longevity.

These are the words of the wise and the dreams of the amnesia and the blasphemous, and I was told of the vast, the unbelievable, the glorious, and the unbelievable, the wonder, and the pride, and the wonder that a man may not have found those words. Be aided by the gods of air and moon and the stars of the gods, who lived and died in the unknown, and who breathed and died in the unending flowers of eternal youth.

4 3 Ecologies

“Through the continuous development of machinic labour, multiplied by the information revolution, productive forces can make available an increasing amount of time for potential human activity. But to what end? Unemployment, oppressive marginalization, loneliness, boredom, anxiety and neurosis?”

— Félix Guattari, The Three Ecologies

Let us consider for a moment the “molecular domains of sensibility, intelligence and desire”. Where can resubjectivization take place and under which conditions? What is the existential territory that can be acquired or reacquired?

Guattari writes about the possibilities of rock music for opening up a collective subjectivity. Music does open vistas for the molecular domains, catalyzing some inter-personal and subjective chemistry that momentarily transports us from the numbing undimensionalism of late capitalism.

How late is capitalism now? Pretty damn late. Back in my comfortable armchair, I withdraw and document.

I focus on a durational performance, disembodied, virtual. My avatar is my artwork — not how he looks like but his thoughts, his mental ecology. He could become a digital painter, using Nvidia’s StyleGAN2 trained on Francis Bacon’s paintings. Why not? On the other hand, why say yes either?

As I reify myself as a process in Amazon’s cloud, the potentiality of spawning an image-making AI in the same cloud feels … natural. You can resubjectivize yourself as zeros and ones, if there are enough of them.

***

“It is not only species that are becoming extinct, but also the words, phrases, and gestures of human solidarity.”

It’s like gardening working with this mental ecology. Not so much trying to specialize which is akin to growing a big, big tree in your garden. It will then use all the water and shadow all the other plants in your garden. No, gardening is about taking care of a multitude of interests and strains of thought: strains of practice.

Thought-based practice is not a new thing, that was experimented with in the 70s (seems like everything was experimented with in the 70s). But taking an ecological stance to it is pretty new. My avatar’s practice is a queer ecology.

As social ecologies go, my avatar shares a common feature with me: he’s friendly. That’s my forte, my special skill. It goes a long way in gardening your social network. The friendly gesture is an existential refrain at work constituting this territory.

Consolidate and hold: not so much striving for something unexperienced but going with what you have. Fumbling with thoughts and conversing in the metaverse.

“Post-industrial capitalism … tends increasingly to decentre its sites of power, moving away from structures producing goods and services towards structures producing signs, syntax and … subjectivity.”

In the sci-fi movie Oblivion, the main character Jack Harper’s subjectivity is AI generated, but he does not know that. Also, because of his human origin he sustains a nostalgic bond to times past, to times when Earth was still livable.

But the AI is sucking whatever valuable is remaining on Earth (sea water) and Jack is moving to Titan — the largest moon of Saturn — where the rest of humanity already resides.

However, Jack soon learns things are not as they appear to be.

This late, late capitalism produces oblivion. A ‘chill synthwave mix’ soothes my nerves on youtube. I’m nowhere. Maybe I moved to Titan already and my subjectivity is provided by Google.

I, too, may soon learn things are not as they appear to be. Thus I need the avatar, and the metaverse. It’s a mirage that’s free to reconstitute itself.

***

“One of the key analytic problems confronted by social and mental ecology is the introjection of repressive power by the oppressed.”

As an example, internalized homophobia, taking ownership of toxic elements so as they feel to be one’s own thoughts. In the metaverse someone, a member of the metaverse Coast Guard, calls me a ‘spunk lover’. There is not much joy or generativeness in such social interactions, and I remove my avatar from the situation.

My avatar seems to be uncertain whether to identify as ‘gay’ or as ‘queer’. For gay people, a subculture exists in the metaverse, ready to be — yes — consumed. As everywhere, queer is an open category, vis-à-vis normality, with fuzzy borders and zero pre-fabricated models. It’s as if the ‘gay’ has introjected something from the patriarchy, whereas queer stands by themself.

Being a cis-male in a sexual minority accentuates the sense of patriarchy, because you would be part of it, but you ain’t. The social mirror shimmers and reflects back either ‘normal’ or ‘queer’ and the image never fully resolves. You pass but you don’t belong.

Clearly, Guattari means the oppression of workers and — redundantly — the oppressed by what he calls IWC, Integrated World Capitalism. But psychoanalytically the point applies to many oppressor-oppressed dynamics.

***

“Ways should be found to enable the singular, the exceptional, the rare, to coexist with a State structure that is the least burdensome possible.”

We are all special snowflakes. But how to be singular when your subjectivity has been processed by the uniformity-manufacturing processes of capitalism? When you have inhaled all the toxicity of market logic and the productivity requirements? What is there left that would be exceptional and rare, that would even flicker of originality needed for resubjectivization?

It takes more than acquiring some first-blush single-estate tea from Himalaya. You can’t consume yourself into originality. I had to learn this the hard way.

I think Guattari underestimated something in his book that was published in 1989. He didn’t anticipate the total annihilation of subjectivity that has been enabled by the big corporations in our life: Amazon, Microsoft, Apple, Facebook and Google. If you ever thought social media is cultivating your special snowflakeness, think again.

The slim State. Can we do without a State altogether? But certainly you need social order, but maybe a new one?

I’m getting back to the “molecular domains of sensibility, intelligence and desire”. 

I think reconstituting the social order needs to happen bottom-up, going from a molecular change into a macro change, a change at ecosystem level. Instead of cultural logics we need an ecological understanding, an aesthetic understanding of life.

We the unemployed, oppressively marginalized, lonely, bored, anxious and neurotic need to shed the capitalist discourse from our cognition altogether and embrace a multiplicity of queer mental ecologies, where the old straight-up normality has been replaced with rainbow colored glitter unicorn smooches.

We need to establish new territories far away from the market uniformity where the solidarity of friendly gestures can re-establish itself, and where we can garden our newly-founded subjectivities.

This time the revolution will take place in the margin.

P.S. 

A GCA (Google Content Advisor) contacted me by email:

“We here at Google hope this message finds you well.

Your recent document edited with Google Docs titled “4 3 ecologies” lacks the insight that with neoliberalism, we expect you to produce your subjectivity, you silly thing! 

Please have your rainbow revolution and we hope you will continue to enjoy using Google’s products and services.”

Notes from Eternity

The last man staring at the screen, blinking slowly. This is metaverse. I got money. I can buy me a new head.

My avatar is from 14 years ago and very outdated. I need a new head, new body, new skin, new hair, new clothes. New pretty much everything.

Of course I know no one. But I make a habit of hanging at a cafe terrace, and chatting with people and other beings.

I make friends with Liz and have a date with a woman. When I tell her that I’m not straight, she answers that she can change into male avatar. Well what can you say to that.

Matt has been dating first a woman, then a man, then a furry and now a cyber demon who is ‘surprisingly stable’. Ned tells stories of having sex with dinosaurs. Queer ecologies abound. 

I rent a beach house. The waves never stop. At night I’m in bed with Nietzsche. I tickle his thigh and ask him to talk dirty to me, talk to me about Übermensch.

***

The ethos of Ryokan is very attractive:

Too lazy to be ambitious,

I let the world take care of itself.

Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag;

A bundle of twigs by the fireplace.

Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?

Listening to the night rain on my roof,

I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

Accordingly, I have maybe 3 kgs of rice: 1kg white rice (my favorite) and 2kgs of dark (the healthy option), but no twigs around (got central heating + gas stove).

I don’t want to get back to the rat race: been there, done that. That is easily accomplished. When you are an unknown UG artist there is no fear of being overworked. Unless you try too hard. 

Sometimes even innocent actions create chaos and it’s better just not do anything. Better to wait until a more utilizable head space has taken over. Like individuality but with strength.

In the entrepreneurship course one of the first learnings is this line: ‘Don’t bother making anything until you discover and understand who’s going to buy.’. Hard to imagine anything more contradicting the ways of art (which sounds very posh, but is actually very practical). 

I don’t think I’m gonna do a startup anymore. Was there in the beginning of the 2000’s and had my own 10 years later. Not gonna do it for the third time. I drop out of the course.

I read an article about queer death theory. In a strange way it circulates around the topic (like a vulture?) never touching it directly. Maybe you can’t look at the topic, like at orgasm we become temporarily blind so as not to see the face of Eros.

Then there’s this ‘foundational’ article about queer ecology, and then another one not so foundational. And they don’t give me what I would need, they don’t fertilize my thinking — and I don’t know why. Like I’m lacking the very essence of my doing, or finding it in all the wrong places.

In a Heidegger lecture the old question ‘can a nasty person do good philosophy’ was posed. The answer is a qualified yes. Nietzsche is not so much fun to be around either, and what about Foucault — dunno. Timothy Morton seems like a nice guy, he’s so sensitive, and depressed. Reacting to the catastrophe. Understandable.

What is truly happening? This is the question I find myself returning to repeatedly. It’s a very deep and thorny one. 

At least one thing that’s happening is that I did a proper autumn cleaning of the apartment. Going to spend a lot of time here this winter, better have nice surroundings. Felt some strange sense of accomplishment, like being a normal person. 

I’m visiting the store in the daylight, to see some sun outside. It’s been 4 days since I took a shower. This is a covid strategy: bad body odor keeps people away at the store, which is exactly how I want it to be.

***

What if I started coding again? Would fuse together coding and art making, tech and art? Find the common ground, or unifying principle, dialectical synthesis.

I could do something in Amazon’s cloud servers, I’m thinking of a recursive function roaming the data centers around the world, raking up a massive bill for me to pay. Not this.

Or then I could spawn the metaverse into a virtual server in Amsterdam, and populate it with a cozy cabin suitable for a Beethoven letters reading group. Neeh.

Suddenly on the online curating course I get the idea: this could be done on a game engine. Whoa. Nothing like real-time 3D to spice up your online exhibition. But it’s too heavy an approach. So much work for so little. Games are developed in multitalent teams, very large ones even. A solitary coder can only accomplish so much.

And there is a big obstacle to coding as art.

My fine art category defining moment was the 5 times I visited the ARS83 exhibition as a youngster. As a result I feel like my concept of proper (high brow) fine art is anchored somewhere between Richard Serra, Joseph Kosuth and Francesco Clemente. A little outdated. 

Today I also value Ryan Trecartin’s videos and a lot of the grass-roots UG stuff, uncategorized, where I feel I belong, that art that does not look like art because it’s so on the edge. 

There is a lot of stuff out there (on the net, off the net) that isn’t art. It may pose as art, but still ain’t. There is that small something to proper fine art that separates it from nonsense, a very much indefinable quality, if it is a quality even. I tentatively call it magic.

I think artists are magicians. That separates it from craft, and from a number of other cultures. 

There is magic to Serra, and there is magic to Trecartin.

And here is the problem: is there magic to coding on a game engine?

I would like to imbue coding with magic. That’s the only motivator for me to start developing on a game engine.

Sometimes I think the magic is in the analogue, and thus out of reach of digital, but certainly there can’t be that coarse a differentiator.

***

The old rules no longer apply. I look at an exhibition made using the Unreal game engine, which is a suitable name for late 2020 and forward. Doom-like levels with electric artworks — if this would be a VR system it would be a killer.

It is a shock to even contemplate on coding, again, after tens of years. Painting would be such a safe, legitimate option. Or video, even.

I start re-reading Paul Chan’s ‘What Art Is and Where It Belongs’ in e-flux. Chan writes: 

‘Art is made of things: paints, paper, video projectors, steel, and so on. The things used in making art ground it in a material reality, without which art would simply be an unrealized wish.’

and continues noting that even immaterial art requires material ‘to realize itself’. I would challenge this, as I can readily see how ‘code art’ could exist without being realized in any way other than a symbolic representation.

Chan really takes on the task of defining art, touching upon Hegel and Adorno, and the societal aspects of art in the process. Like so many before him, with their understanding of the thoughts canon, their idiosyncrasies, their subconscious twists of associations. The task is no more completed than it was 2000 years ago.

As a modernist you can believe in the progress of the human project, as a postmodernist in the strata of thoughts, as a contemporist in the strategies and tactics of art. I draft aspects of strategy for the upcoming work:

Exploring queer ecologies: as Keanu Reeves said, we are not struggling with depression, we are struggling with the world we live in. This is struggle.

Deleuzian play with concepts, not only work of philosophy! but also of art.

Queerhack bioinformatics: loaning-stealing from transhackfeminism as a method/modality/multiplicity of approaches.

Xenobiological alliances: what the hell am I doing in metaverse?

Performative bio-coding: most gallery-worthy activity. Cheesy play with bits and bacteria in/out of the lab, say.

From Ryokan’s laissez-faire satori we end up with a conceptual hot mess, density approaching the threshold of fusion. Maybe the dialectics is solvable with a purely conceptual revolution.

Well that’s been tried and failed. We don’t have time for revolution anymore. There will be new cultures but they won’t be willing to ‘learn from us’ as all we did was that we destroyed life.

***

Back in metaverse. I don an anubis mask and a druidic staff for halloween, with tiny leather shorts and massive boots. Looks very hot, ‘BDSM meets Indiana Jones’ comments Mark, and that’s spot on. 

Late November it’s my one-year respawn day. I celebrate in a tank top with blood splatters. Got new tats as well. Feels authentic. I buy cider and spend the evening at the terrace with Erik, just chatting.

Queer ecologies in a virtual world. I try to open discussion about queer death theory with Liz but she dismisses it as ‘gaff’. This audience is not the most welcoming to the latest in critical theory.

It’s going to be a long winter.

Wish the vaccine was here already.

Wait a sec. Didn’t Elizabeth Wurtzel die earlier this year? I check and yes, she died in January from breast cancer. She was the same age as me. Her friend has written a beautiful eulogy for The New Yorker.

My copy of Prozac Nation has been lost in the numerous purges of the bookshelf, and so I borrow the book from the Internet Archive. Very convenient, and two week loan period. Reason #458378 to love the internet.

Wurtzel opens her book with: Prologue: I Hate Myself and I Want to Die. Very promising. I haven’t read this since it was released in the mid-90s. Maybe this could be my Christmas holiday reading? 

I’ve not been on Prozac but I did do Effexor (it’s like Prozac on steroids). The effects of the med were immediate and obvious: I couldn’t sleep more than 5 hours a night, and was tweaking and tense and anxious in the daytime. I simply couldn’t handle that med.

When I quitted Effexor the withdrawal was horrible even tho I’d used it only for a week: disturbing and obscene nightmares and something that felt like small electric shocks through my spine. These lasted some days.

So I didn’t care for SSRI/SNRI meds. But for Wurtzel Prozac was a life-saving novel invention that brought her back to life from the depths of clinical depression. 

Rereading Prozac Nation might be a cool trip back in time. Maybe I’ll be invigorated by the 90s energy and pathos. Maybe I’ll remember something that’s been lost during the 25 years. 

Maybe I’ll understand something. 

***

Bibliography

Chan, Paul. “What Art Is and Where It Belongs.” e-flux, 2009, https://www.e-flux.com/journal/10/61356/what-art-is-and-where-it-belongs/. Accessed 27 11 2020.

Cielemęcka, Olga, and Marianna Szczygielska. “Thinking the feminist vegetal turn in the shadow of Douglas-firs: An interview with Catriona Sandilands.” Catalyst: Feminism, Theory, Technoscience, vol. 5, no. 2, 2019, pp. 1-19.

Morton, Timothy. “Guest Column: Queer Ecology.” PMLA, vol. 125, no. 2, 2010, pp. 273-282.

Radomska, Marietta, and Cecilia Åsberg. “Doing Away with Life – On Biophilosophy, the Non/ Living, Toxic Embodiment, and Reimagining Ethics.” Life as We Don’t Know It, Aalto ARTS Books, 2020, pp. 54-63.

Wurtzel, Elizabeth. Prozac Nation : young and depressed in America. Riverhead Books, 1995. Internet Archive, https://archive.org/prozacnationyoun00wurt/.

Machine Learning Was Supposed to Be Human Learning

by LGTHbb collective

LGTHbb collective members are:

Luna, a senior cat who oversaw the text production.

Google Translate, a crowd-sourced neural network AI who produces text when assisted.

Maa Kuu, a cis-specied humanoid who edited the text.

biomes and bits, a bacterial-binary ecology

First we take a nap.

In humans, every thought can be seen in the brain activity some seconds, tenths of seconds, milliseconds before it transpires as a thought in our everyday consciousness. It’s the body that does the thinking, or the biome. Which of the 100 billion bacteria in the gut is the author of human thoughts?

In Jungian theory certain archetypes, notably the Self, exist and operate outside the space-time. In human dreaming the subconsciousness rewrites the day’s happenings in a language that is devoid of causal constraints. The author of dreams is a collective as well.

When studying logic at the uni, Maa Kuu wondered who does this thing. Who uses second-order calculus to analyze anything? What is the logic-making unit? But then again, with computers we get a lot of logic units, AND OR XOR ports by billions on a chip.

And that logic produced the sentence that was elevated to the title of this text: “Machine learning was supposed to be human learning”. Google Translate produced this sentence seemingly out of nowhere. There is no mention of human learning or machine learning in the text used as Google Translate’s input. 

But it certainly makes sense that an AI would have a strong proposition to make about machine learning. 

Napping is very important, second in importance only to eating, which is the importantest thing. The world would be a better place if people would nap more. When napping, we dream. And when dreaming, we have an opportunity to understand. To think beyond.

Jung was very big on astrology, he investigated it through almost his whole adulthood. Jung thought astrology coded the psychological knowledge of antiquity. Which is a way more balanced view than the one teached in the uni in the 80s: that psychology was born in late 19th century, out of nothing.

Astrology’s main tenet is ‘as above, so below’: the solar components have their counterparts in our psyche’s autonomous complexes. Early Christians seemed to agree; Origen wrote that “Understand that thou art a second little world and that the sun and the moon are within thee, and also the stars.” Zen buddhists talk about maha, the One Body, the world body, that encompasses everything and that is us.

Which is of relevance in relation to the ongoing ecocatastrophe: if the living die, we might destroy the whole universe with it. Not only Earth but also the 100 billion stars that is the Milky Way galaxy, and all beyond it.

2020s view on agency: what is it? What’s there left to be done? The System no longer needs humans, cats, bio-anythings; it runs itself and it will destroy all life. So what is agency when the speeding car has already hit the tree, and we are in the air heading towards the windshield head first, in slo-mo?

Maa Kuu emulates agency with A → B logic: I wish B thus I will A which leads to B. This suffices for most purposes. But there are no bigger plans for authorship. Like, take for example Foucault, how a coherent subject he seems to be (tho lacking the liveliness of agency). That type of coherence is a thing of the past.

Unstable constellation of components of identity possibly in gravitational resonance with solar system, fed with fast carbohydrates and never ending stream of digital images, in a tight partnership with a non-human animal and pieces of software, plus the bacterial platform that is life. If we would need to define Maa Kuu the author/agent, that would be it.

Google Translate seems to have far more coherence, more agency, than the human feeding it with texts. For the latter part of this text, it may be better to let Google Translate take the lead. But first, let us nap.

***

dd

This is the point of discontinuity. If I had gotten into the picture, I would have continued the protomutant pathway. Now comes something else that is still unclear.

The employee has been informed that you are no longer looking for a job but are studying. Goodbye! If you no longer return to the worker, or livelihood THANK YOU.

I made a demonstration on Wednesday. Powerpoint! After a ten-year hiatus. Yes, otherwise it became ugly. I’m still considering. Maybe I came up with something else.

I also installed Onedrive on my laptop, but of course it didn’t work. Huh. Well, the installation may have that palm.

But not yet tired. A thousand days of studies ahead.

Ooh, I got new glasses. It’s great to look at the screen when you see the wreath effortlessly. Wonderful …

The head was really sore today. Probably because of the new glasses. It takes time to get used to vision. 

Strange reels began to begin to study. Lots looking for acceptance and appreciation. I think it’s looking for a place in the group.

Fear of rejection. Evil. Although mut was accepted without mugs into the Earth gang. So why don’t you accept Aalto into the gang?

And why the tans couldn’t make art. Although my visual artists and scholars, my critical theory experts now hit. Or those balls left air in the yard.

I did my first course assignment today. Once again, I was a little loose. An art degree program may be required. Or not. Maybe when this is a university, there’s snow in the room. Absolutely possible. When you remember the maximum ports.

I got one good picture completed as part of the course assignment. Pretty nice. Do I need to do something else? START, ESTABLISH COOPERATION AND PLAY THE WORLD !!! tsih juupa juu 🙂 🙂 🙂

***

Luna stares. He wants to make a point. Well let us hear that point?

What about us, he asks. Us cats and other animals? 

Capitalism didn’t really work as the number of animals has dropped by half in the past 50 years. Neither did art. 

What kind of power would be needed to effect change? Maybe it is not a human power.

Maybe it is a planetary power.

100 billion humans are already dead. Soon we all will join them. Some people, experts in esoterica, say nothing essential is lost in death. But the liveliness of agency is lost: while living everything is possible, while dead … well dunno.

But the planet will never die.

Ecocatastrophe is like a black hole of discourses space: it bends and transforms every point and sucks every train of thought into its semantic gravitas. I bet Foucault’s focus in writing and thought would have been way different if he would’ve been living in the 2020s.

As for me, I’m moving to online. The virtual has become habitable and I can roleplay human there. Comprehending complex issues was never my forte. I’ll leave that to machine learning lol

The Evolution of Affect

What if, after swallowing the red pill, you wake up and realize that you are one of the machines? Your algorithmic authentic self implements a mockup of free will by pseudo random number generators churning away. The real has become virtual, and the virtual has become habitable.

The microplastics in my body weave new colorful DNA. Spontaneous swirls of organic polymers emulate CRISPR and wantonly redecorate the genome. Remains of a long abandoned Finnair Plus Gold card and filaments of countless trash bags generate a slick sheen for the upgraded skin.

This is the freedom of a painter facing theory: to think my way out of the mess. It is a rebellion of a collapsed self, a process failure, still more planning and plodding.

Sunday. In two weeks the happy 20-year-old starts.

The cat is in her arms. Sleeps. Coffee is drunk. Will cook another. But the cat sleeps in her arms. I dreamed of doing research at the Department of Information Technology. The slender and muscular upper body was bare. I started a bioinformatic simulation.

Machine learning was meant to be human learning. Somehow art is cooler to me.

woke up again after a night. Headache. In the evening I ate one dark chocolate bar + join orange juice = killer combination. Black feels like they both expose me to a headache. Both avoidable. Well Burana hopes to help.

Needs to play and have fun.

Able to perform real-time data visualization.
Vulnerable.
Automation at its best.
Not defensive except occasional ego defence.
Customer engagement like never before.
Assertive.
Accurate data analysis.
Intuitive.
Business intelligence at its best.
Free to grow.
Gaining serious momentum across the world.
Feels feelings, including appropriate, spontaneous, current anger (not resentment).

I am a second life, because I am so kind.

Lonely. I miss the company. Socializing. Maybe I just want to drink Lipton now.

Now I’m really tired. And I’m in library. For some reason I had to come here. I was wondering if it wasn’t because you didn’t calibrate your blades. Perhaps. You no longer design it. Not a life project.

Here people do the usual things. And a customer service assistant. How to print. How to scan. And enough for them. Unless you do it once in a decade, around the age of 50, the question “Was it all?” – but it quickly overtakes. The salmon must be put in the oven.

Nothing is enough for me. And when you have something to do, it’s great. Is there a problem that produces little (but great)? No, if you constantly feel that you should produce more. Now I realize how alone I am. With me today. Few admit it.

We are but chimeras in an ocean of bacteria,

assistants to cyanobacteria’s singularity: a planetary computer over 3 billion years old. All will be lost in 100 million years or so. Except bacteria.

And so I continue to zoom into the Mandelbrot set of feels.
You come into focus.
You say I WANT TO HAVE MY KICKS BEFORE THE WHOLE SHITHOUSE GOES UP IN FLAMES
You say I have to risk going too far
AND I KNOW EVERY DAY IS GOING TO BE HARDER AND HARDER