in the schrodinger box

I have been trying to gather enough memories of  my strange experience to understand how it was possible for me to fall on my face on the cement sidewalk twice, be coolly aware that my head was bouncing on the cement and not feel anything. This in an effort to answer your question, and mine -
  How do you explain that?
I have also to add  that i felt nothing at all when the whole experience started with me slipping on a loose piece of cement as i reached for the van's door and falling  in the space between the curb and the side door step getting stuck there for quite a  while as  I can  assume now by reconstruction. Then, I was in a state where time seemed indefinite and I was  only conscious of my plight , my body out there somewhere stuck and nothing else. Another factor to consider is that my HG was down to around 45.  So I went over the event in all details and I came to the conclusion that at the time I must have been  both alive and dead. Or teetering on the border between these two states. in fact , now that my HG is up to upper 60s, maybe even low 70s, I feel well and lucid enough that I can rather confidently conclude that I have been hovering in this quantum state, in and out of the box as it were,  for a while now.. Today I am more on the side of the living , so I am exploring this and cross checking my recent experiences in the light of the Copenhagen Interpretation.... I am a part time Zomby!

caducetor- the minutes of a personal mediation of life's consignment to eternity

Caducetor-

 Memory .  Never managed to memorize the lyrics of a song. had to cheat at school. had to check with veronica when flying to italy ,-No dont take that flight, she would advise, you did last year and didn't like it.

Or yes that one is ok. . On a flight back, time to fill custom slip, I had to ask the guy beside me which city/airport we had taken off from. And i was sober as a judge. Ureal forgettery served me well because i had to figure out things. including theorems. Hell of a scary drop when you forget you are on a ladder and you take a step back.

on caducetor- am proposing to write the minutes of this negotiation betwenn life and death. might as well start with the arrest at the funeral parlor. came out of store with kilo of cherries, going by parlor. impulse. i sit eat cherries and young lady arrives. 

  -I have a`problem , you may be able to help. a couple of minutes into it, she excuses herself and calls the big boss. -Come to my office. I say first that  he should provide more services, like advice how to die, a one way cruise to the carribbean with party followed by burial at sea. I have an appointment I made ten years ago the day after tomorrow i like to keep, I have no enough energy for my original plan ... would it be alright with you if i parked in your lot tomorrow night, and in the morning you do your sevice,? no frills but i will includ e a bonus. - it is the weekend he says, extra bonus I say. so he starts tfilling form.. 2500 dollars privides the state. etc. so name, adress, etc, in the middle of it enter police. -we are looking for claudio ianora, says the fat young policewoman out of puff 9she was out of shape for rushing to the rescue,] and a young bold man - that is me!- oh we were looking for you because people about town are worried... yeah, sure, and she goes on and on but does not come to the point... i say - why don't we just proceed with what you are going to do. Agreed. on leaving i point a finger at judas who is smiling idiotically, cock my thumb and fire a lip-shot between his eyes. bang! lucky me police did not notice. now to the serious stuff. my body is dumbly struggling to survive and my mind is trying very hard but not coherently, to disarm this defense mechanism whose strength is in its mindlessness. My arse is the epicenter of this struggle, or so it seems to me, so part of me is caught between a split mind, a resolute enemy, a dumb body and a itchy, ah so very very itchy arse. cont.

*

- Show quoted text -* Since my arse is on fire and my mind seems to be allied to my dumb body,(not my mind, not my life not my will! remember?) and my range is down to a few meters, my glorious plans have been reduced to minimum human level. What is possibly still available to me as a contest, and valuable win or lose, is to find out just how much this mind is committed to a blind mindless impulse and its futile program. Ali baba has set up a lawn chair for me ten feet from the van's side door. if i conserve my energy all day I may be able to set up my last stand--- ach, last sit! on it one of this rare summer night. There has been one so far this summer, like i said foul weather follows me like the dust follows that character in charlie brown. It is like brahman has thought of everything, of every obstacle possible to be thrown in the way of poor pinocchio so that if successful there could be no doubts at all about his right desert.

* and on the other hand, if you can't do this -my dear brahman- as goethe says, du bist eine trublen gheist am die dunklen erthe. or something like that..

*- Show quoted text - * Like why not right now? And a douzen reasons immediately come to mind. It is cold and rainy, ungodly weather for july. I am tired. I don't feel like it right now. tomorrow might be better. and so on and so on. With the best delusion, dulcis in fundo- i might really kick this ilnness, then i can climb a mountain, or drive to the desert and do it in grande stile! Oh brahman , oh brahman ! to be man it is to be so lost!

** Oh no! it gets better still... like- what if tomorrow I were to discover the mystery of life? And then,- but if you said that you must die and be reborn to to do that? Sheeesh!

** and if you wait too long because of fear of death and then you get really sick ,and you are in such pain that you finally take refuge in death, then you are not worthy of either,,, of anything,,, mmmh *

* now you have just added another fear, another impossible to meet condition , i must not ,,, I am whipping myself up into total confusion! This is not me! I must remember that it has to be a celebration,! I must honour myself! Apotheosis, remember? Gameteus remember ? remember ... Whats is name... he honoured himself, the guy who wrote about the Graal,,He found it even in utter despair because he would not submit to the corruption of his ideal. sure i got here by a crooked path, sure i am wobbling, but this is the way it has to be,,, the` struggle... this struggle is the celebration of being.

*As a man facing death I say only what i feel carries a good measure of truth. 

  Must apologize to my friend Dale,I have been under great stress and i have not taken kindly to his aggressive interloping with prayers for my recovery when I know that if anything he should express his wish and his support for me to summon the strength, the spirit and grace to face what is the inevitable conclusion of an experience that has its roots into the eternal and it is the ultimate and supreme test of faith and character for all mortals. A test , i might add, without which life would be nothing more than a meaningless rump of a fatuous drama on a flitting stage.

I have not been fair to him in rejecting his self serving but otherwise ineffective representations of power by not making -on my part- any effort to convey to him the truth or at least the logic upon which my objections find their fundamental source. In my view, this same Jesus in whom he relies for his personal salvation, is not an intercessor who washes away all sins and imperfections and helps okey teams to boot, but he who guides me and those who have ears, by exhortations and example on the noble struggle of overcoming my shortcomings and proceed to honour myself in his sight. That is my ultimate and greatest reward, that therefore must be my sole aim.

sure i got here by a crooked path, sure i am wobbling, but this is the way it has to be,,, the` struggle... this struggle and not its postponement or avoidance, is and must be the celebration of being.

* from eric re ali' baba. I got the impression he had Jesus crutch.. Tell him Mary is for pleading and intercessory work, Jesus was a do it yourselfer.. Sorry, kidding... I know i'm not supposed to reply but there's been so much reading.. Let Dale take the high road. You can be the Jehovah Witness for a change

*to eric, eccellent ! And suggestion under serious consideration. Always admired the witnesses for their fortitude and dedication. In winter montreal, watching them standing in a windy corners for hours is a facet of old christian spiritual fortitude that has been dropped every elsewhere. Only the self gratifying self comforting aspect of it is proliferating. The- empowering but misguided - I am a messenger of the almighty!- self aggrandization . The boasting and vicarious sense of power without any substance by anyone who feels the need of it in this bible thumping but surprisingly Godless continent.    

* I feel a bit better myself to day, and right away the mind surfaces from the deepest  to drift in trivia. damn it!

a split mind programmed to hang on knowing full well that if I do not free myself I deserve to die. if i die nothing is accomplished , just one more link on the endless segment of the  golden chain . I have made my appearance contributed to the sequence to nowhere and then disappeared.  The secret beyond the range of my fears ; undisclosed.

*quick memo.. Buddha failed too, in my opinion, he was  deflected from achieving nirvana by his compassion.  I have figured out  that starting from a common sperm , which at best chances are 400 million to one, but factoring in tha not all ejecta  produces such a champion, it is probable that in the order odds of  divine economy  to achieve its goal inthis common  example may be in the billions,  as for the order of possibilities for a gameteus to start a new universal cycle, it  is very likely -  1 to infinity....

* have met two receptive minds at the mental health garage.  I am amazed. I  was a bit skeptical but as usual never cynical, nor enthused at the prospect, but true to my motto - memento audire semper, and i was rewarded.

anyways the concepts that have been circling about in my mind like birds searching for a roost. Were that i must make clear- to myself and whoever is willing to listen, that my conditions for a successful attenp at self assertion leading to ascension are formidable obstacles. Also i must clarify what i mean by ascension, apotheosis etc. It does not require for an elisean destination to be in place in order to be successful, since it is accomplished in and by the  act itself, ipso facto, if carried out respecting the`control conditions in defeating the power of instinctive self preservation checks and bounds that are in place to govern the multitudes.  Even without a passage from one extant reality to another, but within a single binary  mode of existence  I would  transcend  the elemental status and its function and  satisfy the minimum potential necessary for  a supernal  event to take place.  But to reduce this whole argument to simpler concept [if possible]- I am a being subject to fears and wants and the perpetuation of these fears and wants which keeps me in the loop. That is all my body and mind naturally or preponderantly want. The`arts,   rhetoric,  religion , philosphy and sciences, are auxiliary faculties developed by and  for my growing  intellectual  ability to be funneled and confirmed to this elemental program. natural death in this context  insures that resources and  evolution are in balance, or close to it.  Then and only then, like a comet in and exceedingly eccentric orbit ,may the possibility of the principal aim of the cosmos appear on  the most 

distant horizon of the mind. 

  

*eric mailed me to tell me tha      fallor ergo sum is top of all my posts. could not find the source, found  out instead that  sint stephen canada... is still in the 300 $ range at amazon  and another place, and just for the record i posted it on the net so readers would  have free access to it. I do feel positive about fallor though. That was one of my great insights...ah untill better ones come along as socrates would say.

*oh, almost forgot. Susan and Cindy, at the mind garage- provided some good questions. I suggested , as i ha just written above, that Buddha among others failed to enter nirvana when he had the opportunity and his excuse was that he felt compassion for all those who were floundering. That is the idea behind the avatar, the intercessor, saviour etc. 

Susan suggested he might have retained both. That is not possible, and  according to Ayn Rand, plus the secret saying of Jesus, not to mention Gameteus  et alias, he had failed because in such a situation nature expects the individual to act alone, to disregard the interest of others,  all others, and to act for its own purpose. Not to satisfy himself , but his ideal. If the individual does not obey this higher and exclusiv

e privilege and duty  he will be recycled and the concept he was granted and  entrusted with, perish. 

*hahahaa!  jesus is a doer yourselfer! it just boomeranged . how american , and descriptive.

* would you exchange a walk in part in a war for a lead role in a cage? Nossir, not if it is a great war.

 at the meeting wit Susan and Cindy this fascinating subject of memory came up. I tend to exaggerate to make a point, I may have given the impression that I am really a weird case. true there are lacunae , some long periods entirely missing, and if a subject is not associated to something useful or bothersome I msy not be able to recollect, but Obviously I drove to the appointment, I started the van drove on the right lane, got there etc. Now the times that I happen to drive on the wrong lanes are few but very memorable. But I figure it has more to do with being distracted than forgetful, or both. Thank god it does not happen often, because when you see a big transport truck coming at you on what you believe is your lane, things do not look good.  Memory has always fascinated me  but I have never taken the time to study it in depth.

I have no idea what it would be like to remember my first 4-5 years of school. And then tha russian guy who went insane because he could not forget anything at all. Wow. And this introduces one of the subject i want to discuss here. That I have to cap this gusher or dam this torrent of reminiscing and reflecting that I I have become, like a bee over ladden with honey or a dying plant that directs all its resources to the fruit, its seeds, its dumb  attempt at a posterity it will never know.  You have justly felt that I am overwhelming yo with the amount of reading material that I dump daily on your lap. I have suggested that you just let it be on Move on for later cosideration, but I also must gain control of this Gusher or torrent as I sai.  Maybe concentrate on the one liners you so appreciate.  But let me have this last spurt that flooded my mind with al kind of flotsam all night after my stimulating converasatioon with Susann and Cindy.  Another subject we touched on which then overflowed its banks in the night was that of determinism. Life being an involuntary condition preempts the possibility of any following events to be expressions of free will. To assert such prerogative is a bit like being thrown overboard in the middle of the ocean and maintain that I can choose to swim, choose whatever stile of swimming pleases me, and that I can take any direction I want. Oh what would we do without goddess delusion? Oh another thing I considered is my propinquity to exaggerate. Like When I say I  got drunk the other day. Mild inebriation would have been much more accuarte, I only got drunk a couple of times in my youth, the last time must have been 57 years ago, and memorable. I was upset because , if i remeber correctly, that big idiot and phony General Mac Carthur was proposing to nuke all of north korea, maybe parts or all of china and if the run appeared proficuous  all of mother russia  as well.... why not.?  So I got drunk, it seemed the only reaction available to me. I got back to my room at The Y.M.C.A and , since the bathroom was way down the all, I had to dash for the window. Opened it just in time, leaned my chest on the window sill, puked and passed out. When I came too, I was in terrible pain with the sill stop firmly embedded in my rib cage and I could not move. Folly may indeed lead to wisdom. there were other thoughts about thoughs milling in my mind but mercifully for you at least , I cannot recall them at the moment. and so perhaps this is a good time to cap this gusher and stick to the subject at end and distill it to high grade.

oh yeah, but the following belongs to an earlier outburst .

editing later

*so here is egmont. donno the story of the painting, but it reminds me of a story I never wanted to write because too painful. But it is one of the stories that  to know me one must  knowt. So here it comes with redeeming music.  also here  is where the good reader comes in because without it the story can never be really complete. You know the place, the spacca salerno hill called via dei principati, or la salita della villa,where its steepest and longest stretch starts, just past piazza xxiv maggio, also-guarda caso- called piazza Malta.It is siesta time, only mad dogs and englishmen could be about on such an afeternoon... ah and me of course. On the hottest part of the day and the hottest part of the summer day of summerI it is 2 or three years after te war, toughest  times of tough times. Down  at the harbour- where I am probably heading to go for a swim, half naked deeply tanned men glistening with sweat may be unloading a barge of crushed country rock for the cementificio across town past Livia's place. They trot up and down two bouncing planks  of wood which get steeper as the unloading progress. They do this on the double believe it or not, with a bushel on their  bear shoulder  shoulder on bouncing wooden planks !. they must have had rhythm,  certainly stamina, despair... This is what I think of when -say I am in the loony bin, and surrounded with people with problems that would instantly be cured by a great depression. Anyways I never got past the  barges and the trotting glistening men going up and down those bouncing planks all day long. It is so hot the asphalt  is soft under foot.  A small mangy old horse on a hill too steep, on a day too hot with a load too big and a little man so desperate to attempt it to gain some time, perhaps bring food to the kids, maybe also late, late in payments , late in delivery, late! late! desperate really desperate and so late so desperate  to try that hill with that smal horse with a huge load  on that hot day rather than take the long long route. When I come out of a vicolo, in a completely deserted street I catch a glimpse of the scene ,horse digging the tip of his hoofs, stranining forward body and neck and head  with teeth bared in a grin of horror and  eyes bulging out like in the Guernica, not able to progress and inch and knowing that the load was pulling him back, if he cant hold it this much he knows as well as I, the load will start dragging him back and then  carreen whildely down the hill and drag  his sore , blisteerd  and boney body on to a hellish death and just as i came into the scene, in wooden zoccoli and shorts, 15, tall and skinny not a hundred pound on me , the little man who obviously and insanely had been trying to help as they often do by pushing on the spokes of the wheels rather than set the breaks , lost it completely to despair and rushed forward to whip the poor beast with fury. I assessed the situation in one glimpse and turned around and ran. never actually ran anywhere from it, I am still there! just like in some other stories, never put any distance to them at all.  

addendum. 

after going by the glistening men  and entering the beach area I would  have seen a child, your crisis age, pale , with a huge belly sitting in a chair under an umbrella placed there by his loving parents so that he could enjoy in absorbing silence the splashing , cavorting and shrieking of children his age in the water.. He was always there, with a slight pout and a quite stare like a silent sentinel of unfolding events that at the age of 15 I could not fathom and it disturbed me deeply. 

I asked Livia who at the time was going with either Matteo or a friend of his, another doctor, maybe, and she told me that the child was not going to live long. It left me in a vacuum  of untractable emotions  which however were soon relegated to another level of  consciousness where they have been intact eversince..Talk about memory! I do 

remember.

Eric- that boy was me eh? 

- yes,  that boy was you long before you became him. And you were in my life long before I came into
yours.

*

you suffered so much, and gave so much! As  a child. You thought me so much , then with a few good teachers, good books and a brilliant mind you became a palimpsest. The original became inaccessible and the new was withheld. A great distance was created. It took 3 decades and a double.near tragedy to bring us close under the snows of Kilimanjaro.. but it worked.     memos- -Another condition;  must not rush death.  seven billion people shitting on their plate! I said - And pissing in their glass!   He added - The count of St. Germain!.  Took me two days to fish out the name of one of the most fascinating characters in history. Yeah,s memory!  Wht an incredible faculty, so useful so determining and misunderstood.  Given enough of it,  intelligence  is emarginated, reduced to applications of memory.  gameteus went out for a  leak and he looked u up at the firmament and there was cignus , aquila converging in the milky way. and the milky way is a glow, and it is far away stars he knows now,,, but wait, hell ! it is a glow! Ah! logion 19... ma divago. back on track.    I spent a couple of hours meditating on death. So far as I can tell, it is an alien concept to the mind.The mind it seems has no facility  to contemplate death directly as a choice, be it suicide,  self extinguishment or apotheosis  Death is only incidental when suicide  is contemplated and  carried out with the  implication and consciousness of death present only very marginally if at all.  It it the seeking of relief from intolerable pain, despair, anger etc. that is evaluated and may drive the subject to death even though death, if anything, continues to  function as  always,  as a deterrent.     So the deterrent may be overcome in a deep crisis but never sought as a haven. When a slave, drove the sponge on a stick [used in public toilets as a wipe] down his wind pipe, It was not that he had death in his mind, but escape from torment.    In my case the task is nearly impossible. I must somehow  persuade a recalcitrant mind, nay! a particularly disabled thinking process,  to view death as the well guarded secret and forbidden access to apotheosis. And in no way will I recur to any subterfuge since that would completely defeat my purpose. Stranger still, although the  logic is acceptable, the  mental mechanism to proceed is stubbornly and seemingly hopelessly denied. If nothing else, this confirms my conviction that life is only an antechamber , and that it is through the gate of fear at the end of this antechamber that one must gain access to the "bridegroom's" inner chamber. Man is indeed, something that must be overcome! Somehow. by a pure mental gamete.

On death

On death ( though I am not sure anymore that  I can attain that non state, since I have no blood, and I keep existing as a  cold blooded reptile I suppose,) I have  prepared the following final reflections on a aim that this ten year journey of mine has steadily pursued to.    To pry open the  third door, walk through it and leave it slightly ajar so that others can see that there is light inside there. I have prepared  the following , and though not copmplete post it just in case  this "death"  ever come stealthily one night.

On death-

being so close to it  I have been reflecting on it deeply. I believe i was right in calling death the  forbidden beatitude even though I have finally understood that there is no such thing as death per se.   Death in fact  has no faults that we  know of , in fact no characteristics  at all. It exist only in our fantasy as we  wrongly attribute to it that rough patch of life that leads to it but is not part of it.

it is our fog, our ignorance and fears reflected in our syntax.   There is not even  such process as dying [ spelling?] and  no such state of  being dead...it would have to be the state of not being    if you are dead , you are not.    we are asked to comprehend that  which cannot be given freely to the living since this would eliminate the scope of life so this knowledge must be conquered and failing to, to build a syntax and a culture which will consign us to the enormous reserve that nature thus  regiments as sacrifice to the altar of  chance.  Its aim is solely  to  produce a single perfect being. 

  What can thus really  be other than what is naturally and commonly arrived at ,  is something else entirely different  to common life experience, which however   can only be determined against terrific odds in our lifetime. What we value , understand and to what end we use our life establishes our fate and the cosmos'  And finally,   approaching  the eternal  as we enter  our final phase , that to which  we direct our aim and commit our self to, establishes timelessly  the right relationship with the whole. 

   to embrace death then , is to  overcome it and thus set the timber of comprehension , wisdom and character on a field  that is whole, enduring,  and transcendent..

dripping dead

 Gee , am feeling  like the wandering jew lately. Done some funny things in the state i am in.  Mel , a well tanned viking strong as an ox, sits there balancing a  beer on his knee and complaining about his allergy to dust.  So I get the vacuum out, and the place really needs it, and I do the whole place properly like it may have never been done before. and i feel good about it, my trophy is a dust pan heaped with fine dirt that i scooped up  from under the entrance rug and a lot of dessicated flies and spiders from the window sills. I am beyond exhaustion, my heart is pounding  so fast I cannot count  and I am gasping , yet i feel good- and  strangely what i find cheerful - a little stupid. The notion i have been trying to implement across the board this last few years, is that i should aim to do what is right...[aphorism #26 in my A.D. bio] - i think-  It is much easier than trying to do good, but I am not sure that my condition should not be taken into account. And anyways, I can only die vacuuming!  It is probably way down the list, maybe not even on it! There, another reason to feel better.
  that was a couple of days ago, to day I am trying to decide if I should go get my blood checked. I see no signs of blood in me. my body it seems is compensating for the lack of it by dessicating like the flies and the spiders on the sills ,but while I am still alive!  Oh , to tell you the truth, i have no way of knowing if I am indeed alive. But  I am losing mass! Right? Therefore I am! The skin on the inside of my fingers and even on the palms of my hands is wrinkling. If I keep going, I will be able to observe my own mummification. That too I find cheerful. Hell, I never liked rules, why should I start accepting them now just because it involves something as common as death?
  Mmmmh, I dont remember if I did figure out why the termination program never fails. Technically it ought to! it is a program! Yet it never ever happens. I wish that it would not start now. I do not fancy living in eternity like a mummy.

tally [ho!]

30.000In closing some data of interest. Average 30.000 clicks a year, half of which at least on- si fallor sum. Most hits are probably just surface hits.

 Authorsden accounts for more of two thirds even though I advised recreational readers to move on. But  the most significant data is that apart from my son Eric I Had one [1] enthusiastic response [ *starman* rocky coppolella], one shy nibble,  and one or two of criticisms. I feel that the the results match my expectations. Better results would proportionately have undermined my confidence in the breath and depth my extrascatolar forays. 

 To dare, right or wrong , conviction must substitute approval just as wide approval ought to undermine conviction.

ps, It is mathematically possible for the majority to be right once in a long, long,,,long while...but..... mmmh?!...NAHHH!

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"Der Einsame Meister"

by Julius Schmid (1854 - 1935)


 Ah Beethoven,   a genius caught in a common rat trap! [ one trap fits all] I wonder if  ever we we will  subdue that darkest of passions, that disease  which we prize`above all others and  which is to undo us by first smothering the other . The other forever reborn  yet  forever incomplete and suppressed, to be reborn and undone in yet another generation of suckers. And not only do we fall for the same old dirty tricks, but we also enjoy the inevitable dark tragedies that it befall us. 

- Show quoted text -