anon_j_anon (anon_j_anon) wrote,

Panopticon, 70-

Title: Panopticon
Author: jAnon
Disclaimer: This is mine.
Wordcount: 10 by 100



“You wear the soles of your shoes so evenly.”

“Um, yes?”

“It’s amazing.  Most people wear out one side or another, but yours are completely even.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“No.  No, it doesn’t.”

“You were the one who told me to walk straight.  Properly.”

“I was cleaning your shoes and so shocked by the soles.”

“Okay.”  Look at the bottoms of my shoes.  I don’t think they’re particularly special.

“Your father wears the outside and heels of his shoes.  I wear the insides.”

“I don’t think walks are inherited.”

“It’s amazing, how even they are.”

“I have to go.”


A change settling.  An objectivity arriving.  A vision transforming.

A reaction, a balance.  Walking between two worlds, treading between seeing and living.

Responding.  The power of words to inspire, the anonymity removed by contact.

I feel I know part of you now.  In writing a journey, in exploring my prison, I feel you are helping me make lock picks.  Ultimately, I choose whether to leave, but you give me tools.  The opportunity to be seen instead of watched.

We’ve commented on the nebulous space of the net.  As much as it’s a space, it’s also a net.  There are nodes.


Self reference.

Despite linearity of time and perceived continuity, the earth spins on its axis to provide cycles.  Day-night.  Seasons.  The moon revolving.

Texts in dialog, compositions alluding to each other.

Written in pieces of 10, other things being written and discovered in the pauses.

Musical silences are just as significant as the notes.  Zero was not an intuitive concept.  It has its own history, our struggle to accept the idea of nothingness.

How is it that nothingness now pervades society?

Is it built into the code?  The binary 0-1 of basic circuitry?

On-off.  There must be a middle ground.


If I have not seen your face, does that make us less meaningful?  If I have not kissed your cheek, embraced you in the greeting of old friends, does that make us less real?

I said that resistance is only effective in groups.

We are a group, connected through delicate threads of bandwidth, packets of data, bytes transferred.  html encoded and at each of our computers is the key.  The capability to receive, interpret, code back.

I’ve been deconstructing.  They say that destruction itself is a creative act.

This dual nature, Panopticon dividing and uniting, power giving and taking.  Fascinating.


The set of real numbers on the closed interval [0,1] has the same cardinality as R, i.e. [0,1] is uncountable.

Proof by contradiction.  Suppose [0,1] is countable.  List the numbers,

α1 = 0.a11a12a13a14…a1n
α2 = 0.a21a22a23a24…a2n

αn = 0.an1an2an3an4…ann

where aik is the kth digit of the decimal expansion of αi.  We may construct a number

β = 0.b1b2b3b4…bn

such that b1 ≠ a11, b2 ≠ a22, b3 ≠ a33, … bn ≠ ann, etc.  Then β cannot be equal to any αi because it differs in at least one term.  Therefore, no list of real numbers in [0,1] can include all numbers in [0,1], and [0,1] is uncountable.

The proof must be slightly refined for cases like 0.749999… = 0.750000…, but this is easily remedied.


Do you see what I’m saying?  Mathematicians have different orders of infinity.  The smallest infinity corresponds to the set of natural numbers, N = { 1, 2, 3, 4, …, n, …}.  This infinity is called countable.  A set of numbers is countable if it can be put in one-to-one correspondence with N.  Z, the set of all integers, and Q, the set of all rational numbers, are both countable.  R is uncountable.  [0,1] is uncountable.  In fact, any [a,b], (a,b) is uncountable.  It’s really quite remarkable, the properties of real numbers.

Reflect, circle back, deconstruct, reconstruct, disregard regarding continuity.


Analyzing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony as a constant striving for the state of Elysium.  Going from D minor to D major.

The mixing of genres, the meditation on the role of the artist in society.  You can’t listen to the Ninth Symphony and come away from it without feeling transformed.  You’re not the same person as before.

What is the power of information?  What is the power of knowledge?  Of accessibility, the fact that net, despite its failings, has opened worlds of information.

And worlds of fantasy.  Characters of deniability, monikers of anonymity.

But that Ninth Symphony—nothing replaces live performance.


Listening to Mozart’s Zwölf Variationen.  The perfection he achieves, taking folk music and marrying it to classical forms.  The subtlety in each variation, gaining insight into a composer’s mind.

My favorite is the eleventh, adagio.

It’s so typical of him to combine consonance, dissonance, triplets and sixteenth notes, chords, major minor chromatic, the left and right hands interchanging.

Imagine him, sitting down and playing.  And his operas!  Revolutionary, entertaining, critical.  Mediating between opera buffa and seria.  Overwhelming.  Political and subversive.

I’ve seen the usual: Die Zauberflöte, Le nozze di Figaro, and Don Giovanni.

Then died at 35.

Viva la Libertà!


When it happened, that’s what I turned to.  Music.

Panopticon—whatever it is—follows you.  It’s embedded inside.  Do you pull out the splinters or leave them alone?  Are they splinters?  Is it a matter of perspective?

Falling into sophist arguments, thinking only in relativity.  Are there absolutes?  Sometimes, everything feels backward, like what should be solid is jello, what is relative is gravel.

A year ago.  It was almost a year ago.  When it happened, I felt myself slammed into a cage again.

World shattered and shattering, the only thing organizing my mind my world, was music.

Fucking watchers.


From Jarhead:

“Now to the rest of you, do you have what it takes to be the meanest, the cruelest, the most savage unforgiving motherfuckers in God’s cruel kingdom?”


“Will you be able to one day say ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil because I am the baddest motherfucker in the goddamn valley?”


“We shall fucking see.”


“What the fuck are you even doing here?”

SIR I got lost on the way to college SIR


“Jesus Joseph and donkey-style Mary.” (LOL)

Tags: writing

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