Data is not information, information is not knowledge, knowledge is not understanding, understanding is not wisdom. -Clifford Stoll, computer scientist as quoted by john kay in the real business of finance, p. 215
… insanity was not regarded as something completely set apart from sanity, but rather as lying on the extreme end of a spectrum. Two years later, he [Jung] argued that “if we feel our way into the human secrets of the sick person, the madness also reveals its system, and we recognize in the mental illness merely an exceptional reaction to emotional problems which are not strange to us.” -carl jung, the red book | liber novus p. 196
The size of two books referenced
I placed a hold on Carl Jung’s The Red Book because it had somehow lodged itself in my subconscious and it seemed like it held great value if I were to read it. I go to pick it up and it’s this HUGE book. Totally unexpected though it was, I’m sure it’ll be a joy to read due to the big letters and such. I think it’ll be an easier reading process 😄
Targets are short-term, but since life is short too, results are maximized, which is all people need to be happy, because the soul is formed by what you accomplish, whereas what you desire without achieving it merely warps the soul. Happiness depends very little on what we want, but only on achieving whatever it is. Besides, zoology teaches that a number of flawed individuals can often end up to a brilliant social unit. -Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities vol. 1, p. 27
… the inhabitant of a country has at least nine characters: a professional, a national, a civic, a class, a geographic, a sexual, a conscious, an unconscious, and possibly even a private character to boot. He unites them in himself, but they dissolve him, so that… -ibid, p. 30
I have to organize, catalogue, and synthesize my past few readings and subsequently produced materials.
Maybs a bit today
Walking back through Central Park; this gem is right around my backyard 😱😳😁✨✨⚡️💫
The financiers and bankers made millions and billions, taking from the future. ( see posts on John Kay )
This is acutely relevant to Bifo’s post-futurism, where there is no future.
- We sing of the danger of love, the daily creation of a sweet energy that is never dispersed.
- The essential elements of our poetry will be irony, tenderness, and rebellion.
- Ideology and advertisement have exalted the permanent mobilization of the productive and nervous energies of humankind toward profit and war. We exalt tenderness, sleep, and ecstacy, the frugality of needs and the pleasures of the senses.
- We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of autonomy. Each to her own rhythms; no one should be constrained to march at a uniform pace. Cars have lost their allure of rarity and, above all, they can no longer perform task for which they were conceived. Speed has slowed down. Cars are as immobile as stupid slumbering tortoise in the city traffic. Only slowness is fast.
- We sing to the men and women who caress each other to one another and the world better.
- The poet must expend herself with warmth and prodigality to increase the power of the collective intelligence and reduce the time of wage labor.
- Beauty exists only in autonomy. No work that fails to express the intelligence of the possible can be a masterpiece. Poetry is a bridge cast over the abyss of nothingness to allow to allow the sharing of different imaginations and to free singularities.
- We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries. We must look behind us to remember the abyss of violence and horror that military aggressiveness and nationalist ignorance is capable of conjuring at any moment. We have lived in the stagnant time of religion for too long. Omnipresent and eternal speed is already behind us, in the internet, so we can forget its syncopated rhythms and feel our own singular rhythm.
- We ridicule the idiots who spread the discourse of war, the fanatics of competition, the fanatics of the bearded gods who incite massacres, the fanatics terrorized by the disarming feminity blossoming in all of us.
- We demand that art turn into a life-changing farce. We seek to abolish the separation between poetry and mass communication, to reclaim the power of media from the merchants and return it to the poets and the sages.
- We sing of the great crowds who can finally free themselves from the slzvery of wage labor through collective revolt against exploitation. We sing of the ifinite web of knowledge and invention, the immaterial technology that frees us from physical hardship. We sing fbthe rebellious cognitariat who are in touch with their bodies. We sing to the infinity of the present and abandon the illusion of a future.
Bifo, ‘After the Future’
From what I’ve gathered, the colossal paydayd and bonuses of financial and banking execs is the money that should have forne out in the future, and it’s also money that is subsidized by the public.
I am starting my day out reading ‘The Man Without Qualities’ in paperback 😄 much better experience than the tech. reading
Robert Musil ‘The Man Without Qualities’ 10, 1952
A semi-late evening/night stroll through the Columbia university campus in this weather was very appreciated. Saw many nice places, and couple locations with live jazz music. The area and neighborhood in which I find myself is wonderful and beautiful and I really look forward to taking part in its everyday life. Moreover, I finally visited book culture and its inconspicuous initially, though once I went in, the selection was eclectic and I came across many materials that captivated my attention. I wish I could’ve stayed longer; I’m unsure how much time can one ethically spend in a bookstore without having made a purchase, I hope it’s a good while, because the selection is too great and I’m an erratic and strange reader.
Commitments to the interests of the client, loyalty to institutions, were replaced by the aggressive pursuit of individual self-interest and the culture of ‘I’ll be gone, you’ll be gine’. All this activity was sustained by the illusion of profitability: the belief that financial innovation was adding great value and securing exceptional returns when the reality was that traders were borrowing from the future to fill their own pockets. –john Kay, the real business of finance 126, 2015
Modern financial conglomerates are not so much engines generating large profits as institutions that suck up public subsidy. -John Kay, 131through Central Park, on my way to the Met, realized the mismatch cheesecake at the Metro Diner on Broadway and high90s/early100s before heading home for the night approx. 12amwalking back through Central Park to the west side Sculpture; the color gradience was amazing the likness, form, and dash of color on the top 👌🏽on wood!! Wood-staining?! Crazy!!, Met Museumthat one famous Dutch panel painting 👌🏽
The scale of financial market activity today would be impossible without the exception -now proven to be reality – that both the liquidity and solvency of banks are underpinned by government. -john kay, other people’s money: the business of finance 87, 2015
Investors look at economic fundamentals; traders look at each other; ‘quants’ look at the data. -john kay, 104
The infinite acceleration of the world with respect to the mind is the feeling of being definitively cut off from the sense of the world. Sense isn’t found in the world, but in what we are able to create… depression can be defined as a lack of sense, as an inability to find sense through action, through communication, through life. The inability to find sense is first of all the inability to create it. (Bifo, After The Future)
Depression is an illness of responsibility, dominated by a feeling of inadequacy. The depressed subject is not capable, she is tired of being him or herself. (Ehrenberg, 1998).
Sculptures by Rodin
Met Museum, outside on an unholy-ly hot day of mid-October.
Those who didn’t run got run over. Society started running frantically and many broke down. (Bifo, ibid.)
Guggenheim collection; Seurat and Severini
My own words: I went to the Guggenheim because I get complimentary admissions, and holy shit the Agnes Martin exhibit sucked. Not my thing. Too (self-?)involved and unnecessarily congratualistic. Love the brilliance of having the shitter made of gold being on exhibit at the same time as this Agnes Martin exhibit.. goes together in a way.