There’s always a siren, singing you to shipwreck
Radiohead – There There
“If we grasp what we shall now try to say as a sequence of assertions about language, it will remain a concatenation of unverified and scientifically unverifiable claims. If on the contrary we experience the way to language in terms of what transpires with the way while we are underway on it, then a kind of surmise could awaken, a surmise by which language would henceforth strike us as exceedingly strange.”
Martin Heidegger – On the Way to Language
With this article I’m starting a writing experiment I believe will best suit my writing production style, and convey greater dynamism to readers.
Simply, I’ll publish growing articles. The limitations of bounded rationality, and time, along with evolving workflows, protocols, developments, and other intra/meta factors continuously come to bear on music production.
Whether a music producer, software or hardware developer, protocol stakeholder, or otherwise a stakeholder you’ll need apprised of developments.
Because of my background, and probably inclination I tend to have a zealous need for this information. It’s probably why I was a philosophy and literature major, and in grad school cybersecurity.
I’ve been involved in public policy as well, having worked in Congress, and running for public office. I’ve authored classes in global cybersecurity public policy, enterprise security, and others, for a highly successful online cybersecurity graduate program. My focus in graduate school was on optimizing a methodology for public/private economic incentivization to maximally increase national, and global cybersecurity via public policy, international doctrine, and public/private sector. PCI-DSS is a good example. the USB Audio 3.0 standard, would be a music industry related equivalent.
Having worked in consulting for many years, I’ve had to keep abreast of the sector specific challenges of industry. Depending on the client – I’d be learning about the challenges of Commercial, Industrial, Utility, Governmental, Retail, Maritime, Aviation – each of which, has its own related protocols and policy. So I’d have to learn about Agile, or FISMA, or how and when to disclosure a software breech, or patch a vulnerability. I designed security from the network core to the parking lot – each sector having its own requirements.
I like to read and write manuals. I like the cutting edge, almost as much as a stable workflow, but yet desire creative modularity. I also like finding workflow. I constantly have Heidegger standing over my shoulder, with On the Way to Language, or Barthes Rustle of Language, hearkening me to the profundity of foundations, to the edges of cognition.
It’s amongst these shores of thought where I’m at my best. Art, I believe, comes at the great cost of rigorous work. But once the instrument is tamed, it becomes a companion, a service worker, profit, maximizes social welfare, workflow, creativity…
In middle school I became enamored with classical literature. Some how the idea of the literary Canon got in my mind. I decided I wanted to read the Classics, sequentially. I saw the canon as a series of building blocks, and that, by coupling the very best of philosophy and literature, in sequence, would be the reasonable, programmatic path to the life of Humanist, to be a Renaissance man!
And so I did, for ten years. I read – starting with Presocratic philosophy, Homer’s Odyssey… greek plays, Homeric Odes, Medieval philosophy. I When I went to university I took all the courses I could. The work is hard, I’m both a loner and a social maven. I grew up in a farming family from rural West Virginia, I’ve lived on the south side of Chicago in the canaryville neighborhood, studied abroad in Cambridge. I’ve spent long winters in isolation at my grandma’s farm, her driveway is almost a mile long, with hundreds of acres of forest surrounding. There’s a pine forest, several acres of giant pines, I’d sit under the dim canopy of those trees, so dense the ground was just a fine bed of pine needles – a peaceful retreat for me to write poetry, or have a conversation with myself about GM Trevelyan – his 10 volume history of England, or Harold Bloom’s simple rendering of the canon, bespeaking his near photographic recall of English and world literature, the ease of its dispensement. I yearned for him to wax, but his delivery was the art of the simple, so too Trevelyan’s coursing of Albion – forever to me the metaphor of the English, its continuing lurch, captured most eloquently in Eliot’s Wasteland, the fading star of empire, and the perils to human rights, now captured by Romney
Corporations are people, my friends.
We fetishize categorization, whilst planting our feet in archipelagos of religion, monocultures, platforms, and identity politics. The roots, the network core, the myopia of the six sigma – its black belt, like the silent ninja, the nimble surety of market dominance, adoption, the Human Genome project, now the Brain Initiative, the cartography of Deep Mind – maximally enabling creativity, concurrently imperiling it via the cool hand of optimization – homogenizing and isolating via the distortions of irreconcilable binaries, falsely ascribed as foundational – from the aisles of grocery stores, to political chambers, where the fragility of the human condition come to bear.
These roots, whether the stretching rhizomes of a Thousand Plateaus, Joyce’s Wake, Woolf’s Waves, the quiet cyclical rhythms, the palimpsest of bardic Homer, captured in a splash of ink wandering Odysseus, with then Aristotle, tutor to empire, the cruciality of category and classification, appropriating the literary to State, banished outside the walls of the Republic, the feudal estate, the Great Wall of China, Wall Street, the Berlin wall, – and now Mexico. The great road of the Roman empire finally broke before the steep clines of Wales, with centuries of warlords finally tamed to church and state, where the mysteries of god were steeped in latin and the star chamber, its secrets unraveled by Tynsdale, burned at the stake – so too shall the research of the EPA, the preservation of alternative facts, to the fatherhood of the high priest, the fences of the feudal estate, only capsized by the printing press, Tynsdale, or the tacking of Martin Luther and the prosaic essays of Montaigne. The tide of information broke in the blood shed and white washing of byzantine fineries of church via literacy, pamphleteering, the collective known as Shakespeare – whose attribution, like online personas, is irrelevant to the performance – the Globe, where the tide fell the feudal walls, and set sail Homer anew, to the promise of America, staking Cromwell to the corners of the kingdom.
Let these truths be told, that all men are created equal.
Now the wake of the press, from the splash of Homer, is enmeshed to the mysteries of algorithm, the abstractions data, where star chamber is private server, and polar caps the purview of the delete button. Educational declines inform passivity, political fatigue, and binaristic sound bytes become the latinate mental fences of the corporate deity, protecting them, from sea to shining sea, of the demotic threat from within and without
Look out for Number 1
The watchtower of the board room in Babylonian high rises, personified by Citizens, with the sly fox of media, stealing and modifying the mental ovum of demotic power
Swiper stop Swiping!
So says Dora the Explorer, I know she’s not paying for the wall. When the chambers are buttressed by the abstractions of the corporate persona, algorithm, electoral college, markets – the poet is banished. Homer was banished to hell by Dante – who of course, had never read Homer, as he didn’t know Greek. But he believed – like the belief in 3 to 5 million illegal voters in the recent election.
It’s all Greek to me
The great library of Alexandria was burned, like Tynsdale, monasteries, the Jewish bloodline – the lattermost captured in Joyce’s Bloom, feeding organ meat to his Molly. Poets, like data scientists, squirrel away ink while those in uniforms punish dissent – through a little red book, and media distributes the cult of personality, the mysterious corporate other, the modern estate owner, or priest, who feeds and protects us from the perils of secret infiltrators, border-crossers, and dissenters, with a steady diet of guns, walls, and cloistered mystery.
Collectively, these indices must be explored, articulated, and renewed. Hegel likened language and history to the flower, as Hesiod in the Works and Days, or Arnold’s Culture and Anarchy – beware those who take pride in abstraction.
Governance then, music production, artistry – is the product of work – Democracy is a right – but is also a mere abstraction – we must continually be on the way to its language, its performative, the collaboration of syphilitic poets like Nashe, in darke alleys, underground highways, the attic of Anne Frank, or the Jungle of Sinclair, our islands of thought at last, the open borders allowing Odysseus’ return… who once in the comfort of home… left anew. The heroes journey is a bardic performance, imperiled to fire via the dustbins and aisle-ways of history, secrecy, and forgetting.
Luiheid mag aantrekkelijk schijnen,
werken geeft bevrediging ~ Anne Frank
2016 seemed the year of generative thought, in 2017 the trajectory points to activism, but the zealousness of the wake, will quickly crest, to placid still waters, their reflections killed Narcissus, or burnt the wings of Icarus the false beauty and temporal fetishizing of recursive thinking. Activism can quickly devolve to Atavism.
We must embrace the turbid ebb and flow, make waves, of sound, reverberations rising anew, the poetry of interstices, the Derridean aporias — the rhythmic inconsistencies tethering us to the groove, the continuous return to Being and Time.
There’s always a siren, singing you to shipwreck
(Radiohead – There There)