Conscious machine

So there is this intelligent body and this consciousness that must somehow work together. The body doesn’t care much about its eventual expiration, it cares a lot about present integrity. The consciousness cares less about preset integrity but is scared shitless of the incoming end.

Intelligence is evolution at work. But consciousness is a side effect that rose up from the predictive analysis which intelligence enabled. Your body knows what it does. It knows it so well it doesn’t care much about you, as a person. No cell asks you if you’re happy with its DNA reading. You are built on a scripted execution environment.

At the level of the body prediction is minimal. There is possibly some kind of intelligence at the level of matter and some primal form at cellular level, but there are no unscripted decisions in the formation, maturing and living processes of a being. If it were you’d start growing a skin pocket for that cell phone by now. The homeostasis solution is known and at this level, in this environment, awareness is not required. Levels, this word repeated in this paragraph is essential to grasp: we’re layered things.

Our internal bodily processes happen without any supervision from what we call “us”. Isn’t that weird? It is amazing that most of the known diseases would be cured much easier if we could “tell” the body to stop doing something. The freaking flu happens because of too much immune response, wouldn’t it be nice to tell your body to stop overreacting?

Why don’t we have a dashboard with status parameters? Because what we call “I” or “me” is merely a small side effect of a tool the body thought would be nice to use: consciousness. We have this illusion of free will because the body does not oppose anything in particular, unless you direct your self at you. Suicide and self harm are the exception not the rule.

We’re a thin film on top of everything and the everything we’re on top of doesn’t seem to share our goals and aspirations. It is important to realize how external to your body you are. That out of body thing reported so much, that is the constant thing happening. The senses are really immersive yet what you call you is out there already. This fluctuating electrochemical equilibrium that defines you is not made of the same thing the supporting layers are made of.

You are an intelligent machinery, with billion years old scripts executing non stop in perfect order and some error correction with highly accurate short term prediction abilities, stuck to this consciousness which is a small thing busy with being itself while depending on the intelligent machinery for its existence.

We have a dream, a waking dream actually, of cohesion, as if we’re the same, integral, contiguous, smooth, inside and outside, at all times. The intelligent machine is. The consciousness is. By themselves. Together the cohesiveness breaks.

Freedom. I find it funny when I think of some cell locked into its place and purpose, controlled by the greater good’s aim of resilience. We see this interference of the machine with the conscious aware being in the way we model what we call the world: always coming back to units with easy to understand designated functions, always striving to define and box freedom into degrees that are painless to stretch into, continuously finding solutions that work on old maladjusted systems, resistant to environment but frail on the inside.

Higher conscious levels don’t have the access required to devise a clear system. Most of what we call “I” and “me” is so busy being separate that we rely in huge proportion on insight offered by unconscious and subconscious processes.

In a world made by fully aware conscious superior beings there is only spontaneous structure, the memory is collective, knowledge freely shared, goals vary and the greater good is the shared understanding of the uncertainty ahead. But there is no such thing so far.

We’re passengers on a vessel with a known destination, except that we don’t want to get there. Some are the noble guests on the deck of this vessel. some clandestine in the hideouts of the machine’s belly. Above and below though we share the impotence of changing course.

You know, Fabiana I wrote this after going through the constellation based G universal database and trust network by Heather Marsh. Unsure of the connection :D, anyway …

This is a great perspective.

This is a great perspective. Yes I wholeheartedly support the ideas in the article, even if they’re a bit sexist towards women of today, they are of help in breaking to shreds this mirage luring women into something getting more and more obsolete by the day.

Women today, and when I use that plural I am talking about large swaths of people gendered female, don’t learn how to be programmers, they learn to code, and that is key. There are, of course, exquisite female programmers and computer scientists. Yet the teach girls to code call to arms is meant to do only one thing, like you said: to drive salaries down and free up men for the next technological wave.

Coding is dying because Machine Learning is a completely new paradigm, where data is creatively manipulated to become a lesson learned for a machine and scripting aka coding becomes less and less creative or required.

Programming gets more and more high level and the higher it gets in abstracting the bare metal it runs on the more it becomes coding. And software writing its own scripts is very, very close.

The insight:

We shouldn’t be teaching women to code in a world where the skills they currently possess are about to become more valuable than anything men are stereotyped as being better at.

… is golden. I noticed in other comments that people take it too literal. Sure, every one woman can do as they choose, but this is about a general blanket affirmation that girls and women ditching their hard earned advantages will own the future, while clearly seeing a machine filled future where their current stereotyped empathetic and caring social roles could be far more successful.

My language

A white rose smells like living. I breathe it in to remind myself what it is to be missed from this dense embrace of Right-here-right-now.

A red rose looks like lure. I stare at it so that the fire in me sees it and tries to imitate it. Monkey see, monkey do can be used for good.

A lily looks like lust and smells like letting go. One can use them to let it go, literally.

The most relaxing sound is the laughter of a human challenged on their strongest territory, that innocent giggle mixed with the deeper spasms of hubris, evoking the joy of being close enough to the wounded gazelle.

In early mornings when the air is cool and it smells like dew, when the night faded, yet daylight is still not paying attention to me, I feel like me.

A tree is a thought, a forest an entire mind. I like to remember that they grow downwards, grounded in thin air and stuck with their roots searching for the center of the world.

A deep carpet of dead leafs is the unexplainable and the wind swirling them into invisible spirals is the fascination the unexplainable begets.

Metaphor is the map we use to navigate our geography of knowledge. A language is some signage on the map: which are the roads to walk on, what depicts topography, where is there some water around. I also carry my compass of belief on which I see which way is north. When my beliefs shatter, I can always look up to the sky inside myself to search for the shine of my heart, which is visible only at night, and always points my north. When I believe, it’s a constant day inside! It’s the angst that sets the sun of my drive.

We’re metaphor first creatures. I am one at least. Will you be one too? It’s more fun, the more you learn, to map the knowledge together.

Does a cat’s purr and thinly sliced pupils make you feel like they know everything and won’t tell? Does a child’s laughter look like spring? Only sometimes?

A warm sand beach with playful waves poking at it in relentless joy is the home I long for. Unlike Camus I cannot lose the sea, I never had it. Maybe only my sea of wonder, but this kind of sea doesn’t make poverty sumptuous for me. Poverty is still the wasteland incarceration of potential.

I would be a good space traveler because I love long walks. Long walks consume eagerness away. Eagerness is tiresome, like the apple fruit that hangs so heavy that it almost breaks the branch, but won’t just fall already, like that rosebud that failed to spark the blooming and it rests frozen into its failure.

You cannot find Jesus. I am dead serious. Once Jesus gets on the map, it gets in the map. Not a christian? Fear not, all religion will remap the map, for they all spill their supreme metaphors on the ones you carefully have drawn so far, smudging your knowledge, asking for your determined detachment right after it blew into the whims of the wind the intricate sand mandala of your soul.

See above? You can teleport inside your geography of knowledge: the subject is the portal. Unhappy with your setting? Change the subject. Are you the subject? Are you a subject?

I like to look at hands doing things. They are, for me, the reason we grew this world inside. We owe our brains to our fingers. When life got fingers it could finally put the universe on its pottery wheel.

Look at these letters right in front of you, these signs with the power of triggering your feelings, of changing your mind, of calling you into a place of common exploration, of rising your blood pressure, of making you blush because someone might know they made you horny and or childish. A letter, a sometimes curly line summoning then fiddling with time itself. See the efficiency of life?

Communication is all about a one on one shared map make believe.

My language is not made of letters though. I am a poor cartographer. On purpose. The roads of my knowledge map, all lead to treasure hunts. The water is sometimes an illusive oasis, other times a river of seas to get lost into. Cities of things I think about, villages of things I never understood, wilderness of serendipity testing the cadence of the sane cause and effect rhythm of my constant questioning, aroused by this silent reality’s ends that just won’t meet.

What do you do for a living?

The dread question that begs another: are you worthy of a living?

Am I? I don’t know. I sell myself as high as I’m able to, but I never received the scale of worthiness.

I watched this movie, About a boy, and in it this guy Hugh Grant was playing, had no job because of steady income from royalty. Throughout the entire movie this situation was described ad nauseam as undesirable because “he did nothing”. This is crazy. This is the craziness I notice when I hear people telling me:

“if people wouldn’t go to work, what would they do all day long?”.

I don’t know.


For living I do what everyone else does: I breathe, I eat, I drink and I sleep.

For A living I survive, and I wish I would thrive.

Why must we earn a living?

Earn a living? Earn the thing while having the thing?

It is as if you’re given a free TV and if you don’t watch it 10 hours a day you loose your house, and the TV.

Everyone of us with a job is in survival mode. A good paycheck is still a paycheck and the conditioning that is building inside the brain is survival mentality.

The thing is “a living” is a product. We buy it with work, work which actually creates all the “livings”. A self reinforcing cycle. That’d be great by itself, but, you see, this “living” product doesn’t come full option by default.

A living has many quality levels and huge number of optional features, and the price tag on it respects market dynamics. How do you create demand for what everyone effectively is defined by, which is being alive? No, killing people is hard and also bad business, but we tried that too, multiple times. Today, because a living is a product to be sold, demand had to be created by making simple living suck more and more.

Anyway, I make web software in general and product management in particular. Doing this I earn a good living. I don’t want a good living, I actually want the best living money can buy. That is why I don’t write more than blog posts, why I changed careers four times, why I have had four attempts of making my own business which failed four times. I have a paycheck and a lot of frustration.

I am not ashamed of my frustration. It’s pure energy not put to use.

Ana, that was an over the top response to your Q somewhere 😀

Why do we have an army?

Because they have an army.

Why do they have an army?

Because we have an army.

Slaughter of other humans, lovely occupation, been here since forever.

But we know what’s inside atoms! We inject our children with dead viruses and we eat chemicals that allow cuts filled with dirt to heal! If we do all this to survive, why do we then slaughter each other?


Yeah, “qui s’excusse” was provoked by you, not pointed at you, b/c I can’t deny your experience…

Yeah, “qui s’excusse” was provoked by you, not pointed at you, b/c I can’t deny your experience, maybe you use the idea internally in a good way, although I know that this construct really hurts when you try to self expose and the world pushes the knives deeper.

I mean, think about it, it is so easy to dismiss explanation for apology! And even if I apologize, why should I be accused, who is the righteous that picks up the stone? In my opinion this is a rhetoric technique that works to dismantle a good argument but to the defeat of the overall benefit to participants. I wouldn’t use it.

Even more, the root of the phrase is “excusatio non petita accusatio manifesta”, which has a very important part missing in french: an unwanted and unasked for excuse is an accusation, a fallacy even in this form, but, at least, makes more sense, although when you reply to an opinion posted online your explanation is requested as any public forum implies.

If i may, what other triggers? 😀

😉 yours,


Violet, Oh Violet chill, comprehension is based on experience not IQ nor knowledge 🙂 And thanks for the kind vibes sent this way!


Alain de Botton is just great, I like him a lot (he is my age, how can I not), but lately he’s veering to kink a bit too much, BDMS and the sort (I hate that shit, they make everything so complicated when it already is complicated enough).

I have seen this idea a lot about BDSM. Yet, sub/dom dynamics is not an extra layer of complexity, but a focus on the same thing in any sexual dynamics, shedding other things and embracing a distilled version of the power exchange we all do, no matter our preferences.

Also, there isn’t such a thing as too much kink in general. Notice the italics, we all have our personal threshold, but overall the threshold doesn’t exist, or I guarantee you someone will be persecuted for existing. And that’s where Alain makes his mark, he is not promoting anything, nor pointing the right way, but simply explains a sugared version of things so we can grasp what makes us or others enjoy some particular types of kink. He didn’t even venture that far 🙂

Porn thrives because of bees and flowers

Women don’t barter sex. Women barter men’s emotional fulfillment.

Am I late to the party for a rant? To clear up confusion upfront, I am here to defend porn.

In case you haven’t read Emma Lindsay’s piece on how porn makes men terrible in bed, you should. It is a valid point, which she later explained even better.

Porn is and has always been everywhere. From your modern browser’s history to your porcelain tea cups shamelessly depicting the small percent of spicy parts in the Kama Sutra. Did you know there is a pretty big part in the Kama Sutra about “relaxing” the woman before getting down and dirty? How about the part about the virtues of marriage? Anyway.

When I say everywhere, I say that fantasy itself is pornographic. You know, that part of thinking concerned with projecting your desirable sexual future.

Want less porn consumption? Stop teaching kids about bees and flowers and storks. Want even less porn consumption? Let’s open up sexuality, like we did with orientation. When will the day come when we can be again openly aroused? Want less porn overall? Why?

Instead of criticizing, or worrying about, what the watching of people doing the sexy time on camera does to kids and teens, why don’t we make sex normal again? We don’t, because we’re set deep inside to fear sex, because we’re set deep inside to fear ourselves.

I find a super tight resemblance between porn and soap opera. Not an easy thing to swallow, and it is a subject for another context, but I want to say this:

Women and men don’t look for sexual satisfaction in porn, they look for emotional fulfillment.

Alain de Botton has a cool talk on this, basically that sex is more about the soul than the body. However, it is true only while your perspective is from inside to outside, while when you look the other way around, it is just sex. What I mean by that is: when you hear some one describing their sexuality, don’t turn into an instant psychoanalyst and draw conclusions on personality because of fetish. You will be wrong if you do it.

But in Emma’s piece the problem is not the fact people watch porn. It is the fact that the content of porn is demeaning for women and bad for men. However, the content of pornography will change when it will be a different industry producing it. Porn today is made by an industry made of ignorant people, who are held ignorant by continuously being kept at the edge of outcast. If you want to do porn you better want it for the rest of your life.

There is no real input of creativity and art into pornography because the world still clings to chastity as virtue. When chastity will be just another option, perhaps gonzo will shrink and meaningful porn will rise up: in numbers, then in popularity.

Porn is popular with teens because it is still something to hide and it still indicates a rebel status. Just like fifty shades of grey. It is the “oooh, I shouldn’t be doing this”. But, at the same time, it is more, much more: with all the progress about being open about your sexual orientation, we’re still a closeted world in regard to sexuality.

In “You’re the worst”, a TV show, there is a dialogue like: “don’t tell me you’re one of those creeps with a foot fetish”. As long as a fetish springs up a label, porn will always be an emotional band aid. And it is so for both men, the horde of wanking dudes, and the, by comparison, select few women who venture into this bottomless pit of lust.

Women don’t barter sex. Women barter men’s emotional fulfillment. And so do men.

This is key to grasp porn properly. I am not talking about abused women or abusive men. They are not the bulk of the society. Feminism explains patriarchy very wel,l but we should not conflate the privilege of being born a male, with the intent driven abuse of women by men. They are different things.

It is a common misconception that in relationships, and in society in general, women barter sex for things. That is wrong. The greater aspect of a sexual relation is about the fulfillment of desire. In the emotionally stunted group of men raised so by our civilization, desire is the root of a general schizophrenia.

Most men live in a state of inner conflict between what they are and what they’re suppose to be, just like women. They suffer less than women, because, like racism, the system is gamed so that they are pampered with privilege to ease the pain of the their schizophrenic mind, lacking emotional expression, outward motivation and any sort of connection to their inside self. Be a man! No shit.

I don’t glide easily on the idea that men learn from porn how to behave in bed. It is true! And it hurts like hell. But this is how male sexual education works because we’re making it so for thousands of years.

Do mothers or schools open up the subject properly and then their kids get slammed with porn at random? No, porn is a seek for what is unknown. For example, in medieval times men of means went to courtesans, sex workers, where the “secrets” of sex were “taught”. In Chinese and Indian sexual tradition always special women, mistresses, priestesses, these knew the secrets, never the wife, the mother or the common girlfriend. Why?

When I was very young there was no internet. Yet we still “learned” about sex from sex stories, magazines, tapes and whatever, including pornographic depictions of sex from older boys do were doing it. What those boys talked about isn’t even on the entire PornHub.

Porn is free because we still can’t pay for sex.

Sex work is, in most parts of the world, hugely problematic. It is a way to work which has been constantly persecuted by society as a whole, and now it is infested with the vermin that grow in the rot of anything deemed illegal or over regulated.

When sex work will be as normal as being a bank teller, and as easy, and as safe, sex will become accessible. Right now it is not, and porn fills this void avidly. Sex is, in the US, in the EU, for the most part still inaccessible.

There isn’t even a serious market for female buyers of sex which is not because women don’t want that, but because of the bad idea that women “get it” whenever they want. Which makes them vulnerable. The hypocrisy is huge.

Pornography works because sex sucks.

Humans are thread full. We have this illusion of cohesiveness, like we’re the same in all dimensions. But, c’mon, we’re so not. We change, we shift, we switch, every single minute of our existence, constantly pulling on threads that unravel some behavior.

The brain tries everything and picks the best guess. And we don’t accommodate this very well, especially in our sex lives. How many people are full frontal about what they want in bed, without metaphor, without fear of rejection, and even more, how many people are by default willing to try?

By default? Edging towards zero, because as we grew up our sexuality was non existent to our social circles.

This guess work done by the brain, which I strongly believe to happen, is even more relevant about sexuality. Men and women get turned on by how a voice sounds or by eye contact. What do we do about it? We ask people to not get distracted by open sexual stimuli. How sane is that?

When will we be able to be openly aroused?

Openly aroused, yes. Making horny normal and as mundane as a headache or hunger. We take lunch breaks, do we take sex breaks? This sounds outrageous, and it should, because we’ve conditioned ourselves for it, but it isn’t.

Did it ever occur to us that we like watching others have sex because we used to see others having sex all the time? People were doing it in front of other people since forever and the hair thin slice of history taken over by religious based civilization will never make up for the large chunk of history made by natural human sexuality.

Why was I prompted to write this?

Because sex and sexuality has always been the liberator of mankind. It will always be so.

Because this new trend is getting louder, this idea that men suck as sexual partners because all they do as teenagers is watch porn and then they grow into cavemen exploiting women. This idea that men are bad in bed and abusive towards women because they look at moving pictures of depicted sexual fantasy is gaining support. And it is wrong.

Because I believe it is another ugly head of the utter mind control we’re subdued into as children by a society that builds cohesion by fighting nature.

Because, we accuse without understanding first, and then we feel entitled to say: qui s’excuse s’accuse, which almost all the time is a fallacy because we believe to be doing righteous accusations in the first place.

Whenever sexuality is talked about in the open, just like the last century’s classification of orientation as disease, society draws conclusions way outside the scope of the subject which is sex, not social standing nor good humanity.

It is not movies and websites that make men treat women bad, just as it is not the gore and blood in TV flicks that make people kill each other. Now that we’re at it, there is a horrendous amount of emotional pornography at children viewing hours broadcast daily an no one bats an eye.

The fencing of sexuality will not ever in a million years make men better, and, yes, pornographic consumption (in metaphor too) is an expression of sexuality.

When proven wrong people don’t feel enlightenment but defeat

“The Agony of Defeat”, Trevor Batstone.

Emily Dinckinson wrote:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory
As he defeated — dying –
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

She was correct.

Maybe the progressives should take note of this reality of the human spirit.
Maybe we should take a moment to realize that the balloon of progress is inflated more and more each day, squeezing conservatives against the wall of the unacceptable.
Maybe we all, the open minded folk, should acknowledge the dark clouds of global movement of population bringing the same problems back into societies that have already cleared them, more or less.

I’m not sure! Maybe!

I mean our mentality is barely out of the dark ages. Knowledge is out of the middle ages for hundreds of years, but our collective models of the world, well, they are just seeing the light. So the progressive pressure might be the new steam revolution, for the archetypes of the worlds.

But the main argument still holds: whenever you manage to make your take win remember someone lost. Viscerally, it has zero importance that the argument was obvious, or that “history” is on your side, or that, hell, facts are overwhelmingly with you. Sure, people will dissimulate as much as possible. Most will rationalize the defeat as “lessons”, but there will be a lot who will accumulate defeats.

The defeated don’t give up. They build up. They move from existence to subsistence. And when they emerge, the subsistence made them so sharp that they can pin the entire world to the ground.

Radicals were never the majority, yet since forever, a strong and determined group of people can change their entire world. And sometimes radicalization makes strong and determined groups of people.

And it is about nothing in particular. The wrong is everywhere: in science, in politics, in family life, at work, no matter the setting, the defeat of the ones in the wrong keeps piling up. And we’re all sometimes in the wrong! Sure, there is local defeat which sinks with the dying of generations. But global defeat on concepts and mentalities thrive with the passage of time because we forget how hard we’ve got the freedoms and the progress. Forgetting is the springboard of demagogues.

This year I realized we’re going back to salon manners. Ideas like etiquette gained solid support. Shunning merit because of nodding done behind closed doors is ever more common. The terms of sexist, racist, old, lame are imparted as easily as ever, but today there is a committee of those “in the know” and if they label you as such, you’re done. So medieval.

I also fear the new tech nobility, because it doesn’t matter how enlightened you are if you live in an ivory tower you’ll eventually get tired of the common people, forgetting the fact that:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.

Just my 2 cents,


Geniuses know without being taught?

Geniuses are taught. Every. Single. Genius. Was. An. Expert. First or eventually.

Genius without information is worthless, it is just … “bright”. Information is taught.

This is why one doesn’t have to be a genius to be the best, and not all geniuses do anything remarkable. Genius does not take effort away, it can actually make it more work, the genius having a constantly raising bar of quality.

Your friend,


How should we translate that?

How should we translate that?

A trade is only stolen, never learnt? Meh.

He who doesn’t ask never learns. Not even close.

How about:

True mastery can’t be taught

The idea being that, as I’d like to understand the Romanian proverb, one cannot be explained the finesse, the intricacy, the personal touch, one can only observe and distill inside in their own terms the fine art of their trade.

Unfortunately many people misinterpret our proverb and use it to fend the duty to teach others, or use it to haze new comers with all kinds of lowly tasks, instead of actually prepping pupils with answers to how to and why, only afterwards leaving the “Padawan” alone with themselves and the force.