Imagined Restrictions On My Writing, Or, How I Unconsciously Regulate Myself Based on the Economy of the Imagination

I could write the weirdest things. I could say such strange things. Wouldn't it be easy to be incredibly bizarre and offensive? Wouldn't it be fun to write outrageous things? And even as I begin to write these lines I am struck with a truth: I can't write those things.

To drift into those worlds of incredibly violent or sexual writing is just too much. How did McCarthy write Blood Meridian? How do you learn to so vividly depict violence and horror, sexuality and depravity? How do you do that?

I ask these questions because I think I recently stumbled on a concept that helps me deal with this fact a little bit. That concept is captured in a phrase I have been tossing around: 'the economy of the imagination'. I stumbled upon this term on October 23rd when I wrote my post 'On Privacy: The Obstruction of Visibility as the Regulation of the Evidence Required for Imaginative Simulations'. Sometimes I fear that my writing is too abstract. But anyways, in that post I was trying to answer some questions about privacy and how it worked. What is it that we are trying to accomplish when we speak of having privacy, whether it be bodily privacy or mental privacy. What is this 'privacy'? I ended up concluding that privacy was not so much about hiding ourselves physically or mentally, but is rather about preventing people from having the evidence that they need to imagine us in situations that we consider embarrassing or compromising. I gave some examples about retroactive embarrassment, where someone finds out something about us at a later date and we still feel embarrassed even though they didn't witness the actual embarrassing event. They simply acquired the evidence they required to imagine us in that situation at a later date. Privacy. What a funny thing.

But anyways, when I talk about 'the economy of the imagination' what I am talking about is how privacy is really about controlling the amount and quality of the information that people have to think about us. This depends on a couple of assumptions: 1. that social relations are facilitated primarily by how people exist in our minds (i.e. people exist mainly in our heads). 2. that this can be considered a form of imagination (i.e. people exist in our heads because we imagine them in certain ways). 3. That we not only imagine other people, but we also imagine how other people imagine us. 4. That identity and self-perception is inseparable from the people that we interact with (i.e. we would not have a sense of self unless we had interactions that gave us an outside perspective to imagine ourselves from).

The economy of the imagination is therefore the way that information circulates that allows individuals to imagine others, imagine themselves, and imagine others imagining themselves.

Lol. I am imagining this swirling diagram in my mind right now. A diagram that somehow explains this. How to create a picture to capture this? All I'm saying is that if people exist in our heads, and we exist in other people's heads, then we must exist in the imagined heads of the people that we know. Perhaps I can demonstrate this with brackets.

(My Mind [Other People's Imagined Minds {My Sense of Myself as Existing Within Imagined Other Minds} Other People's Imagined Minds] My Mind)

See, this is hard for me to talk about. Or, it is hard for me to abstract, I should say. So let me ground this in concrete terms.

Why can't I write weird and bizarre violent or sexual things on a public forum? Why can't I say whatever the fuck I want? Why does the use of a cuss word feel like an affront to this internet world? What is up with that?

What I'm suggesting is that what holds me back from writing weird things is my knowledge that this writing will give other people certain ways of imagining my mind. But because other people exist only in my mind (at least right now, obviously, since I write this alone in my room, so no one could be here to judge me), it follows that my writing is being restricted not by people actually imagining me, but by me imagining how other people will imagine me. The economy of the imagination functions of the availability of information. Evidence of thought is the capital that allows the economy of the imagination to function.

So, in conclusion, I unconsciously regulate my writing, I avoid saying anything too weird, because I am worried about the evidence that I am introducing into the economy of the imagination that functions in my relationships. i don't want to give anyone any evidence to think of me as too weird.

But guess what, this is a really weird post. These are really weird things to write, I think. So I am overcoming myself. I don't care about this economy of the imagination. But if I were to remain unconscious of its functioning, if I were to have not reflected on this issue, I would simply feel shy and concerned about revealing too much of myself. But once I identify that the problem is my imagining of how other people will imagine me, I am liberated. I no longer feel the pressure of other minds, because I realize that it would simply be my own mind putting pressure on me as other minds.

This is like when I used to stand in line and someone would giggle behind me. I would think, 'oh boy, what are they laughing at me for?' But then I thought one day, 'wait a second, they could be laughing about anything. it is just me being insecure and projecting these things onto these people'. How I imagine other people imagining me is up to me. I won't bring simulation theory into this yet. But I hope that this idea of the economy of the imagination will mature. Because to me it makes sense, and it goes somewhere in explaining how it is that social relations work. And social relations are, of course, my biggest concern. Over and out, pompadour jones.

The Political Implications of Properly Defining 'The Aesthetic'

So this will be brief. It is intended to be a note for my current large writing project on art, zen, and politics. Politics is the part of my writing where I struggle the most/know the least. So I have some interesting ideas and now I'm excited. And then I remembered that I actually had this idea and wrote about it last night. But I was slightly drunk when I wrote that. So I had forgotten.

But anyways. I just had dinner with my aunt tonight and we talked about a fair amount of things, politics being one of them. I am pleased with how overtly political The Condition of Postmodernity was. It has given me a new impetus to read expressly political things, or books that explicitly take an economic approach to political problems.

And this Mr. Walter Benjamin. I need to read him as well. And I think that will be good. The aestheticization of politics. Interesting idea. But like I wrote last night, and I furthered in my notebook today, this seems to be based on a definition of the aesthetic that Collingwood rejects. So I am starting to think that what we need is a proper definition of the aesthetic, and a proper aestheticization of politics. That would be a good thing. I'm glad I had this idea. It will fit into my big paper well.

First I Drank, Now I Reflect: Asceticism and Aestheticism

Well, we will see how long this reflection can last. I went out with some new friends tonight (shouts out out to KP and G). I simply wanted to catalog what I was feeling after hanging out and after walking home. It is so nice to meet new people. To talk to new people and to be in new places. Novelty is very important to me.

But on the walk home I was struck by a silly, fun, meaningful, alliterative, and rhyming phrase. 'Asceticism and Aestheticism'. Such major factors in my thinking. Asceticism, as in the act of self-discipline, is very important to me. Clearly it cannot reach the level of absolute self mastery. But there is a part of me that strives for discipline. Desperately desires the control of my mind and of actions that stem from my mind. Discipline and asceticism, clearly, have to be a very important part of life. I want to espouse a coherent philosophical doctrine, and I think that discipline and the self-regulation of the mind has to be an important, if not essential, part of it all.

But what is the relationship between aestheticism and asceticism? If we are to have an intense and structured discipline in our own lives, how does this relate to the imaginative expression of our emotions? Who knows. I sure don't yet. But I do feel that it is very important to clarify exactly what 'the aesthetic' is. Moreover, I am astounded at how radical Collingwood's definition of art and the aesthetic is. He seems to be striking to the core of an issue that is still muddled in this present moment. My vague impression is that art is still associated with craft, is still seen as a form of representation, and is still associated with the production of beauty. But what if art is not any of these things? And is rather, in its essence, the imaginative expression of emotions? Does this not hold enormous implications for the way that we live and think? Don't we need to stop confusing the products of aesthetic activity (i.e. beautiful pieces of art) with the process that created them (i.e. the imaginative expression of emotions? In other words, don't we need to see that art is not about the creation of a beautiful object, but about the expressing of a particular emotion? I am starting to agree with Collingwood's sentiment that our sloppy definition of art has implications for most parts of our lives. My large essay on Collingwood is going to be a monster. I feel it bubbling beneath the surface. Hard. I'm almost ready.

One thing I am grappling with right now is the political implications of properly defining art and the aesthetic activity. David Harvey so readily refers to 'the aestheticization of politics'. This is a phrase that was coined by Walter Benjamin (a thinker who I must certainly read in the future). It seems that Harvey is referring to how politicians are no longer judged by their actual performance or ideas, but rather by their ability to craft a certain image, and to represent themselves in certain ways. I have italicized those worlds because those are precisely the erroneous definitions of art that Collingwood is attacking. Art is not about craft and art is not about representation. Art is about expression. So what if we clarified our definition of art to deal with these misunderstandings? Would the 'aestheticization of politics' not resolve itself into another problem: I.e. the problem that politicians are too often not simply expressing themselves but are rather engaging in deliberate forms of craft and representation? Wouldn't it make us aware of the fact that politicians should strive to be artists, and not craftsmen or representers?

A genuine thank you to this new place and these new people. I admire those of you who think explicitly about politics. For I simply want to lapse into abstraction and poetry.

For those beautiful hearts

And those beautiful lives

Those beautiful bodies

With their beautiful minds

Oh How I Hate To Forget. Oh How I Hate To Force Remembering.

So this has happened to me several times before. I've been at work, I've been doing whatever, I have an idea, I play with it for a little while, and then I forget it. A little while later I say to myself 'oh snap, we had an idea that we really wanted to write about it, but now I can't remember what it was'. It is these distinct ideas, these ideas that are worth my mental effort. I want them. But then they slip away.

Then I put all this directed effort into remembering. I go 'okay lets think about this or that and maybe we will remember'. But deliberate thought isn't nearly as fun, fruitful, or as easy as daydream inspiration. I don't want to lapse into d-mode: that over deliberate and directed mode of thinking. It just doesn't help.

So what to do about these ideas? Know that I have lost them? Well, I just move on. And that is fine.

But perhaps I should write this one essay I have planned. 'The Encapsulation of Your Own Thought: Turning Fog Into Marbles'. On July 19th I wrote this: "I had moments where I thought something in the shower then forgot it. But if I had encapsulated that thought, by really grasping it in its uniqueness, I would have been able to recall it with greater ease."

Who knows how to retain thought. I did write some things down in my journal today. Things I knew I really wanted to write about. And I certainly will write about those things. But what to do when a thought has slipped into that world of fog? What to do when that somehow 'important' thought has slipped beneath the surface of my mind? Who knows.

But one thing I will say is that I need to seize on it. I need to write it down so that I can remember it later. That is what encapsulation and reenactment is all about. Hmmm. I should write that essay. Then I'd be able to understand this process more. How is it that you rein in your own thoughts? Turn them into something that can be easily recalled? How do I transform my thoughts from that vague daydreamy fog into a firmer object like a marble?

Writing is probably a crucial part of the answer. It would do two things: 1. it would produce external evidence of the thought that I could then refer to later, and 2. the process of writing would likely cement and clarify the thought in my mind, so that I might not even need to refer back to it.

Perhaps I'll give this issue an extended look at some point. But this brief reflection has helped me a bit. I was frustrated with forgetting, so now I feel a little better. And now I bet the next time I have a worthwhile thought I will simply write it down.

RahhhhhH! Collingwood is blowing my head up!

I'm on page 291 of The principles of Art. Skimming and pulling quotations for my big essay 'Art, Zen, and Intellectual Insurgency'. He is destroying my mind. He seems to be tapped into all this stuff that all these contemporary people are articulating. Zizek, Searle, Suzuki, Cioran, Iacoboni, Foucault. Collingwood is saying things that these people should care so much about. But none of these people are citing Collingwood.

But my head can't take it. But thank god I only have about 40 pages left to skim. Then I can finally get on with my writing. I have fifteen pages of writing done straight up. Apart from those 15 written pages I have 45 pages of outline and quotations that I have pulled from Collingwood and other writers. I have no idea if I can manage this project. Every time I skim more of The Principles of Art my image of his thought grows in complexity and strangeness. He is so smart. And I can weave him in and out of so many different thinkers to talk about how all of life can become an art form. All of life can be a way to imaginatively express emotion. I know I'll get this project done. I just want to start making ground. And I am. It is just taking so much longer than any other writing project I have tried to tackle.

I need to make my outline more nuanced. I have all of these disparate ideas flowing in and out of one another. I have about 40-50 different sections that generally fit under five other sections. Part I: Defining Art Proper. Part II: The Use of Art. Part III: Becoming An Existential Aesthetician. Part IV: The Artist As Insurgent. Part V: Spreading the Insurrection.

Each part has about 8 - 12 sub-sections. The flow of the five parts makes sense. But the sections don't yet have internal coherence. I don't have a flow that I can identify within each subsection. Only Part I has a clear flow. Because it has been further partitioned into Parts I.1. I.2. and I.3! Ha! I just need to do that for the other sections. But my head doesn't know how to do it right now. I need to sleep on it.

But jesus christ I can't handle this. But that is how I'll eventually handle. Just keep grappling with it.

Nihilism, The Experience of Space and Time, Status Functions, and The Self-Regulation of the Mind

So I'm continuing my reading of Nihilist philosophy. I feel reinvigorated to pursue it as a distinct line of thought. My post from yesterday 'Nihilism and Novelty' felt very exciting to me. I really liked the questions I was asking and the new angles that I was able to approach them with. I think the main thing I accomplished was specifying more clearly exactly what nihilism has to do with mindfulness. But several other things happened, too. So I want to reflect on those three other things, those three other questions that I feel that I prompted myself to answer.

First, I ended up making some connections to David Harvey's book The Condition of Postmodernity, specifically, I vaguely brought in the idea of the experience of space and time. If nihilism is indeed the negative component to mindfulness, in that it breaks down our pre-configured categories that prevent us from really paying attention, then how does nihilism have to reckon with the experience of space and time, which, as Harvey shows, is so crucial to the formation of social categories? The short answer: nihilism has to regard shifting experiences of space and time as a major source of cultural change, and so has to keep in mind how it effects the categories that it seeks to destroy/transcend.

The second thing: today I realized that experiences of space and time can easily be likened to John Searle's analysis of 'status functions'. Status functions are things in society that operate only because they have been declared to work that way, and because people have (consciously or unconsciously) accepted them. Barack Obama is the president, for example, only because he has been declared to be the president. Language has this incredible power – it can bring things into existence simply by declaring them to be so. A more mundane example the Searle uses: if I go to a bar with two other people and buy everyone a beer and designate that the first is X's beer and the second is Y's beer I have effectively created a status function that holds some power. If X were to try and take Y's beer then there would obviously be some tension, some awkwardness. I'd be all like: 'Dude, I said that was Y's beer, I bought you that beer, why don't you just drink your beer?'. Before I had designated the beers as belonging to someone there was no attachment to a person or otherwise. But once I declare that the beers belong to a certain person, I have effectively made a status function declaration, and the beers are now charged with social meaning and effectively belong to X and Y respectively. Similarly, I think that time and space are also regulated by status function declarations. It is only because calendars were created, only because it was declared that there were 365 days, 52 weeks, so on, that time exists in the way that it does. Space works similarly: customers can't come behind my cafe counter because our society has declared that space to be exclusively for people who work there to make coffee treats. Quick examples, I know, but the point seems obvious to me: the experience of space and time are regulated primarily by status function declarations. We experience space and time the way we do because people use language to declare certain things about the function of space and time. Hmmm, I wish I could state this more clearly. But I have decided to incorporate this idea into my current large project 'Art, Zen, and Intellectual Insurrection'. But in any case, I am starting to suspect that what nihilism deals with, what it tries to break down, is essentially status functions. The things that work in our society only because it has been declared and accepted to work that way.

The third question that I have prompted is slightly less related, slightly less obvious in its connection to nihilism and the rest of my thinking. But I think it a serious issue that fits in somehow. The issue is this: to what extent is the mind capable of regulating itself through thought? What power does thought have to change the way that the mind works on an unconscious level? This has been a major, major, issue for me since at least 2007 when I took Jon Sumida's seminar on Clausewitz. I have continued to grapple with it. Some of the most interesting evidence I have for the power of thought comes from Jeffrey Schwartz's The Mind & The Brain: Neuroplasticity and the Power of Mental Force. In that book Schwartz claims that he has taught OCD patients to use Buddhist mindfulness techniques to overcome their OCD, effectively rewiring their brains (as brain scans confirm). Also, I think I have heard that Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit deals with this issue, and thus I am resolved to read Hegel at some point. But this is such an important question. How efficacious is thought? How much does free will and decision making hinge on thought? This is also a major issue that Foucault raise. Foucault is so adamant that philosophy must be a process of thought that effects future thought and behavior.

I suppose that this is the entire reason that I wrote my post on 'Nihilism and Novelty'. I want thought to be able to overcome itself. I want to be able to intellectualize my way out of life's pain. I want to be able to overcome the negative and painful components of nihilism by finding a philosophically defensible form of Zen nihilism. I want to obliterate Nihilist pain by turning it into a form of Zen. But that would be too bad, because nihilism is clearly its own distinct philosophy. I just need to grapple with it in all its complexity.

But in any case, those are the three major questions that I have now been prompted to think about. 1. What does nihilism have to do with the experience if space and time that Harvey identifies as a major factor in cultural change? 2. Is it appropriate to identify the experience of space and time as a status function of sorts? And does this help me further identify nihilism's task as the attack on status functions? 3. How much can thought change the mind? Is it possible to think enough and thus change the way we think? Can intellectual work lead to meaningful changes in the patterns and inclinations of thought, and thus in unconscious behavior?

I will be ruminating on these issues, no doubt.

But in any case, my current reading project will undoubtedly help me: E.M. Cioran's The Fall Into Time. A fascinating Romanian nihilist philosopher, explicitly grappling with time and knowledge. I was first convinced that nihilism could become a form of Zen when I read Cioran's The Trouble With Being Born, so I have no doubt that this other book will help me grapple with my current questions. Over and out.

The Internet Crazies

The internet is not as amazing as I claimed yesterday. It is amazing. It is a wild thing.

But I already feel myself leaping from tab to tab. I already feel the distractibility. And I guess it is okay. It just worries me in some ways. I'm just not so sure about this internet thing. I can just go and do anything else all the time. I don't have to stay on a single page. I can just move from tab to tab. I can look at news. I can play online games. I can do so many things. But the thing is that I want to do all of them very quickly. I don't know what I really want to do.