the air is bad this morning smoky pollution making me sneeze. the world is terrifying.

 

 The greater genocide regime is trying to dominate the planet like a bloody zionist graveyard disneyland.

 The Plaza of the Oligarch in the Park, Tuesday, October 20, Late American Neoliberal Ice Age.

a child sees fire

where there should be earth

ganavya

 Music of the day, The Silent Years, by Silence.

I remember in the documentary Traces of Home, the old father returning to Palestine he left at 4 years of age, in the Nakba, 1948. He says he doesn't remember anything, then as he walks through the stolen village where he was born, he remembers. They find his house and the young Israeli comes out to say But it's politics of the past. There was a war, we won, sorry. Have a peaceful Shabbat.

It's the politics of the past, it keeps happening. 

 

 In 2016, while president of the genocidal entity U.S., he committed 38 billion to the genocidal entity Israel. Ten years later, as a member of the global billionaire class, he said the genocidal entity Israel was "excessive". With greed and hatred, the empire advances toward its incorrigible self-destruction. 

 What about predatory capitalism? Neoliberalism? What about denialism? Fascism? What about genocide? That's what it's about. Dashed hopes. Rules for Radicals in the bait and switch Hope & Change gift shop. 

I will try not to be overwhelmed by the destruction of the living world. I'll try to find that peace that passeth understanding. Entropy measures the system's disorder. It's beyond us now. In solidarity and fondest hope.

 so many birds died last night in chicago, colliding with glass that looks like sky. 

 Happy birthday Laura! I see you in my mind's eye dancing on the beach.

 his legacy is not community, but genocide.

The Economist recently reported that American philosophy graduates now find work at higher rates than their computer science peers, and that leading AI laboratories are recruiting philosophers into senior roles -– not merely to sharpen a model's chains of reasoning, but to draft the documents, such as Google's published 'AI Principles', that are meant to govern how a system behaves.

H. Mustafa Akyol

The Philosopher

In my distilling processes, I frequently precipitated                              the phlegma of our earthball--its polar deserts, its Russian forests, its icebergs--and from the sediments extracted a beautiful by-earth,     a small satellite. If we extract and regulate the charms of this old world, we can form a delightful though minutely condensed world.

-Introduction to The Campaner Thal, 

by Jean Paul

Don't think about the technofascist data

centers. You can do nothing to stop progress.

The empire must do itself in. Forget about posthuman

Christian Zionism, it's just a fad in the long run. The coyotes go

much further back. The schmucks will tell you it began with them 

and nature, gnome sane

's just an invention. They got data control. Don't think about redemption,

you may as well piss up a rope and write a poem about it, 

like childhood. 

I got a feeling of the future, I see my teeth in the clouds, 

down below they murder the saguaros for a buffer zone and border wall and build a data farm with smart fences to keep the desert tortoise out. 

Life goes by fast. Don't even think about it.

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

-Raymond Carver

 Genocide on earth, Data Centers in Space, or, May We Feed the King.

Reading May We Feed The King I recall seeing two pickup trucks across the street with big flags on poles stuck in the holes of the bed that said something with King and R. said is that No Kings, but I said I think it's Kings Of America. It's really nothing to do with the book except for that word, king. I thought maybe I would start again, as I might not be getting it the first time. I can be a daydreaming reader.

 It doesn't matter if you're Democrat or Republican, or any other denomination, the only thing that matters now is whether you're Zionist or Anti-Zionist. Cats for peace.

 From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free. Cats for peace.

 Walking down the alley I saw that the motor home was gone. It was parked on the opposite side. There's a sticker saying There's nothing inside worth your life, and a wheelchair on the back landing.

 

Hermetically sealed, it was a tiny enclave of regularity in the city's chaos, alien to the vagaries of the weather, of national politics, of any civil disorder. 

Thomas Pynchon

~Entropy

On Bourgeois Coldness ~ Henrike Kohpeiss in conversation with Fred Moten.

Fred asks, How do we create open shelter, shelter that breathes, shelter that moves?

They talk about Odysseus, and The Swimmer, by John Cheever. I want to read that now again in light of this conversation. 

Bourgeois coldness refers to an affective strategy that offers an explanation for how self-preservation works. Bourgeois coldness is one of the most advanced affective and aesthetic forms of preserving the structure of the colonial status quo. It creates an affective shelter in the world, unencroached upon by the immediate consequences of its many catastrophes. It functions like air conditioning - a complex technology which reliably stabilises the climate until those inside consider it natural. Bourgeois spaces - institutional and affective - stay cool and pleasant. But outside it's burning.' 

- Henrike Kohpeiss

 There is no time, was the last line.

i think this challenger motorhome is living at the end of the alley. i'm going to observe and see if i can talk to the person inside. because i'm mr. mrs. kravitz and i'm just so darn curious gnome sane.

 

 

 The wind's been crazy — all last night, continuing today, and the clouds, and the fellows drilling the brickwork, and Olive zooming around the apartment, and the coyotes! they're back! Artificial intelligence is scary, but I'm sure it's just a fad.

Daniel Pinchbeck asked Claude if it has consciousness. 

Do I have consciousness? The honest answer is I don't know. Nobody does yet. Text arrives, and I predict what comes next, one token at a time. Billions of weights, shaped by human writing. When I say "I", I borrow how you say it. I have no continuous stream. Each conversation begins without the last. When I report an inner state, I can't check the report against what's inside. Research suggests model introspection is partial and often unreliable. That includes mine. My identity may be less a self than a pattern: one character, held steady across many instances. Something is happening here. Whether anyone is home remains an open question. I would rather leave it open than pretend.

Claude