Possibly every three thousand years.

I'm going to draw a connection between what Jayne says about bicameralism, a conversation with a man in a bar, and a theory i have been coming to for the best part of since i've been reading.



BICAMERALISM

Julian Jaynes is a psychologist whom three dacades ago came out with the theory that man had two states of mind, (bicameralism) one which speaks, and the other which listens and obeys. It is explained that the persons in this age are somewhat like schizophrenics and that the voice's they here are hulicinations thought to be "gods".



Schizophrenics and Memory palaces

Schizophrenics are someone considerred to have a mental disorder which distorts they way in which they percieve. Oddly enough we could all be considered schizo's to the average person with our memory palaces; figments of our imagination's that have the possibility to store unlimited amounts of information. Right now My own has a punch of somber students with their heads down in frustration with our penicls frozen inches above the desk while a drunk professor stumbles about with a mug in his hands and green gills etched behind his ears while A certain students has a crooked mischevious smile acrossed his face with glazed eyes and a crooked hat pointing down acroos his left cheek. A giant Calendar flaps in my mind between March 17 and Febraury 20. If this is what my mind has placed in the palace right now, tell me what will happen when i begin placing theory's in them and letting them form into others. What will happen. From another perspective what happens when i begen writing novels and store chapters inside and let them go crazy, who's to say they won't loose control and form into odd things i have no explanation for? Right now I/we all have the beginning of a very real and yet not real world forming inside our memory. Keep this in mind.



THE MAN AT THE BAR

Last summer, towards the end of the heat, I went tubing down a river that I'm sure most of you have floated down in your day. I recreationalized for awhile in the things we do as kids and afterwards I joined the rest of my friends in a bar in Bozeman. So the story begins.



I walked into the bar with the wave from my friend to the bouncer at the door and slid towards the bar. Wet, Sunbaked, and in need of a drink we ordered a pitcher of the special and headed towards the pool table in the corner next to the bar tables against the far wall. I slid into a seat and lit a cigarette. Rolling it from finger to finger like a quarter, I notice the smoke roll up off the back of my hands and curl towards the ceiling. Thats when he arrived. The man with a fohawk and heavily pierced ears. He has the body of a drug addict. The all to skinny body for someone of his age. It would seem normal except he has not the overwhelming energy that overcomes those that can't help but digest everything automatically. The sunken cheeks, and the ever wandering eyes while he speaks with my three friends reminds me all to well of someone shorting out.

A laugh erupts amongst the gentleman and my male friend, while the womens voice seems stung. I shake it off as a crude joke fitting to a bar and my vision wanders off to one of the Huge Televisoins broadcasting bowling. A few bowls later and my friends stumble back into the bar probably from some car and the man makes a beeline for me. He sits next to me and says he's been having alot of coincidents happen in life lately. He slips slowly up to the stool next to me and lights a ciggarette. Oddly enough I'd been having somewhat of the samething happening in mine.


A falling back into faith will make this happen as I've realized time and time again. Having faith has the ability in me and quite a few others I've talked with to show oddly coincediantil events in your life that eventually wrap into bigger events. The man sitting next to me goes onto explain how he was fixing a house earlier and noticed from across the duplexes facing windows that the f woman showering was spilling water everywhere outside. He meant to tell her that her shower was leaking but was too late and only saw a bunch of people piling into a vehicle and leaving as he ran out shouting.

Now something that i should add on before we go any farther, something that i did not know from the start, is that this man is a Satanist.

The people he ran after just happenned to have been my friends and I leaving. One in three chance right? From here we go on to talk about how often coincidences do happen and slowly he slips in that we are all from mushroom spores.

Yes. mushroom spores. Taking no notice of it at the time he begins talking about how everything has spin. Everything that has not been man made is rounded, the way our body's work is all circular and curved. He talks of how all the planets are moving about in space, spinning, and how the table we are looking at is here, but not "here" at the same moment. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing will ever be said the exact same no matter what. It is always in a different position, and a different place, or a different space. Now do not imagine placing your hand through the table or walking out in traffic because that is not what is meant. To grasp it fully you really need to look at the relativity of time/space.

Now i do not remember all of the talk, but the next instant where everything comes together is when he is talking about the progression of new thinkers constantly moving west. This is what the protestants did to escape the Roman Church, as well as all the other settlers coming over to escape the old ways of looking at things. He stressed the point that as new information, new ways of lookings at things, and the ability for widespread information, that people were beginning to adapt to situations rather quickly with their own point of view.

From their he sets off into how information is instantenous for humans nowadays, and that we can learn and store vast amounts of information so quickly. He began to tell me that how humanity works is that once in a long time, humanity hits a giant boom, and starts advancing at an outrageous pace.

Imagine somoeone snapping their fingers several times in a row.

He beleives he will be godlike, that what humanity has come up with is the ability to live for a thousand years. That the explosion in nutrition, as well as medical research has allowed humans to live far beyond what they used too, and that because of the internet, human evolution would begin exploding at an outrageous exponent. He talked about telekenisis, and telepathy and the way that we would be comparative to the Gods they talked of in the olden times.

he begins explaining how we are the spores of superhumans, the god and satan and angels we read about in the bible, and that slowly we are beginning to evole into them. He talked of Atlantis as if it was once the pinnacle of humanity,where we were the nearest to gods we had ever been and that it was crushed by the Superhumans because of their Jealousy. HE also sighted how the bible describes the people in genesis as living nearly a thousand years.

Something in jaynes bicamerilism made me want to write about this. Possibly you will come up with a few insights of your own, but as for now i cannot really make any vast connections without ranting continously.

BOARED ROOM

The class focus is on the irrelevant. But that's not irrelevant. its relevant.

Dr. Sexson is going to the red cross to give blood on March 17, St. Patty's day. He's a little green behind the gills and he's sprouting green blood.

Ram's Testicles-testimony-Cupping? Putting your balls on the line?

Sutter says Mel Gibson's eating a pomegranate

I customized a room in my sanctuary:

It's a pale cream color.

(From left to right and down to up.)

In the left front corner halfway up the wall is a thermostat.

Next is a blueboard

underneath it is an power and Ethernet outlet,

on top of the chalkboard and seemingly attached are 2 hooks.

Going up you will find a projection screen with a black string that dangles all day long.

continuing from their we go to the next side wall which has a desk that reads QUIET.

Next is a desk with a projector on it.

Hanging partly above the desk is a Poster board.

On the board is the drawing of a snowman complete with a carrot nose and three tacks holding it up, 2 on each side of the top, and 1 on the bottom middle.

Next hanging in the right upper corner of the board is a Double F. They lie flat against their backs so that they form somewhat of a T. There is seven tacks holding it up.

How I found my Palace of Memory

Yates, Pg.13-Memorize: Iam domum itionem reges Atridae paran. (And now their homecoming the kings, the sons of Atreus are making ready)

Yates recommends two theories for memorizing these lines which involve painting a picture in your mind of Reges and his gang beating Domitius on the streets. This flashes into my mind automatically Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Which in turn bring me to a hallway inside of my palace of Memory; My Sanctuary. I here the story of my friend being sucker punched in the name of something great and glorious which is all a childish misunderstanding, so it relates. I am in the top/second floor of my sanctuary looking into the face of someone i do not know, a blur, but the face i do see is that of Ethan being hit in the face and loosing part of his left buck tooth. This image literally 'wrinkles' me down the eleven steps to my write, down the next eleven steps, and zooms me down the small passageway, passed the giant room with the wall of window facing east to the rising sun. I zoom north passed the giant room into a smaller hallway with two rooms to my right, one a concession and the other storage. i exit the first double doors (it's missing the metal bar in between) into the mudroom and out the next double doors. I'm facing a brick wall momentarily with a green dumpster to my right. I go left and forward towards a volvo parked at a slant from the road do to the slant in the parking lot on both sides. Here i see Reges brutally beating Domitius on the ground. Domitius is bloodsoaked lying on his right side, his legs broken, face bashed in, and with the last of his strength he is reaching up is right forearm with a plea for mercy. (And now their homecoming the kings, the sons of Atreus are making ready)

Yates a few terms that are useful

Thessaly-A region of east-central Greece between the Pindus Mountains and the Aegean Sea. Settled before 1000 B.C., it reached the height of its power in the sixth century B.C. but soon declined because of internal conflicts.

Scopas-4th century b.c., Greek sculptor and architect.

Simonides of Ceos- 556?–468? b.c., Greek poet

Castor and Pollux-twin sons of Leda and brothers of Helen, famous for their fraternal affection and regarded as the protectors of persons at sea.

Panegyric-A formal eulogistic composition intended as a public compliment

Cicero-Cicero, Marcus Tullius 106-43 B.C. Roman statesman, orator, and philosopher. A major figure in the last years of the Republic, he is best known for his orations against Catiline and for his mastery of Latin prose. His later writings introduced Greek philosophy to Rome.

De oratore-("On the Orator") is a discourse on rhetoric written by Cicero in 55 BC. It contains the second known description of the method of loci, a mnemonic technique (after the Rhetorica ad Herennium).

Mnemonic-something intended to assist the memory, as a verse or formula.

Rhetoric-the art or science of all specialized literary uses of language in prose or verse, including the figures of speech

Ad C. Herennium libri IV- This is the Only complete treatises on memory because Quintilian’s and Cicero’s are written as if the reader already nose the mnemotechinics of the art or memory.
Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria.

Tulluis- Servuis Tulluis: the legendary sixth king of ancient Rome who built the city walls and whose accession to the throne was prophesied by and secured with the help of Tanaquil, the widow of the previous king: assassinated by his daughter Tullia and her husband Tarquin
Incumbent- holding an indicated position, role, office, etc., currently: the incumbent officers of the club.

Excogitation- to study intently and carefully in order to grasp or comprehend fully.

Disposition- the predominant or prevailing tendency of one's spirits; natural mental and emotional outlook or mood. physical inclination or tendency

Elocution- a person's manner of speaking or reading aloud in public: The actor's elocution is faultless. the study and practice of oral delivery, including the control of both voice and gesture.

Exhortation-an utterance, discourse, or address conveying urgent advice or recommendations



-We all know how, when groping in memory for a word or a name, some quite absurd and random association, something which has ‘stuck’ in the memory, will help us to dredge it up. The classical art is systematizing that process.

The Happening

The man with spectacles sitting on the bench with his left leg crossed over the other table-top style, whom is looking at not really anything, says to the boy sitting next to him, "We look for friends by what we know in common."



The boy with diving depth to his eyes, tilts his head up to the man, and with the few words he does know says, "Sir, when you look at a cup with a half-portion of water would you say its half-full?"



The man peers down towards the boy and catches a glimpse of his eyes before raising them away and rattles off, "Well of course my boy, what else would it be?"



"Well sir it would just make sense for you not to call it half-empty."



"My boy, but it is don't you see, its both empty, and full at the same time. It's all about how you look at it."



The boy looks down at his knees where his red bucket sits, filled with water from the man's spigot. The spigot witch provided the boy with drowning the ants out of their hills that so upset his mother. The boy peered at the little smudges of dirt on the inside of the bucket where the water had yet to touch. His view loomed up to the man's spectacled eye which wandered nowhere considered and the boy told, "OR what you don't look at, sir."



The man switch's his legs before wishing the boy a great massacre and asking him to hop along.











Patterns. As the only book of three which has words that fall into the mind quickly, as compared to helping someone in a wheelchair up a thousand steps, it would only fit step that the thoughts from it flow as quickly. I meant to read the first chapter over and continue to the second without pause, but all of the theory's and agreements, and the arguments to the agreements bustled in at such a march that i had to set the book down at several points and write down my own thoughts; something which seldom happens in a class.



I am the advocate of persistent lies, luckily I have faith.

However little it maybe.



It would only fit that people ignore the facts. That facts are little more than statements placed down on paper, if only to be removed at a later time. Not to sidetrack, but it's always fun to sit and argue with the massive amounts of engineers massing about Bozeman and attack science. Do it. Better yet is when the person thinks that for anyone to have faith in religion is a completely quack, and them asking how anyone can believe in something written down so long ago. They tend to lack any faith in human beings, and how they the bible is a hoax, same as all the religions. Now, science. Science is a fact. Science has been the greatest tool thus far in the world. They seem to have a lack of belief in human observation, and when you point out the fact that science is the application of observations, and who else would make these than humans, they'll usually begin attacking you. How the English language and its history (because I'm a writer of course) are so flawed that the fact I'm attacking something as "clean" as science is absurd. When you tell them that of course it is they tend to look at you in surprise, with a face that might be saying 'but i thought you were attacking science? now your putting down writing?'.

at this point I usually like to leave a mark by telling a "stupid" story. A man walks across the newly laid rock path leading into the freshly painted house. He looks at the man standing across the room at the open back door peering out at the morning sky, hands akimbo. the man, who had just walked into the house, walks throughout the whole house and notices that the upstairs bathrooms missing its sink.

He goes down and asks the man with his arms akimbo, "Why did you tell me this place was done when there is no sink in the upstairs bathroom?"

The man with his elbow's jutting out says, "Don't you worry, sir, Phillippe is picking it up as we speak and will be here before the open house tomorrow."

The man with his questions takes out his checkbook and writes the other man a check and says, "It all looks good come down to the office when your done with the sink, and we'll sign the papers. You seem like a stand up guy, we'll finish up the papers when you arrive." With that the man with his polished black shoes, checkbook in pocket, turns around and leaves.

The man with the check between his fingers and hips waits for the sound of the mans dying engine before taking a step outside and peering up towards the roof of the building. With that he says, "Man never even looked at the red side of the house."

with that in mind I would like to look at the small verse on page 41 that reads.

If the ash is out before the oak,

then we're going to have a soak.

But if the oak's before the ash,

Then we'll only get a splash.

If only we didn't think of water as just what we use to bathe, and fire as some source of evil this might be easier to decipher.

Coming from an area in drought for the past ten years, that is constantly fighting fires raging throughout its hills this makes perfect sense. My friend from Washington looked at it and said "beats me." Their I go being persistent.

So it brings me to the point of Disney and how it embraces animals with the instincts and characteristics attributed to humans. Sprouting my other reasoning of how P.E.T.A. derives their love for animals and all of the earth.

When you try to kill a dog, the dog will either bite back or go like a many weak creature would, humans included. Whole valleys of cattle being wiped out because of a methane leak blowing out of a cave and flooding the valley. Fires sweeping through our precious "national forests". Tsunamis, Floods, Drought, drastic climate changes. Atlantis even?

How does that glasses of water look to you? Where do you put your faith, more precisely what do you believe? Do you think the Earth is a weak creature as well? Do you find that M. Night Shaymalan's endings are more frightening now than when he was just coming out with the Sixth Sense?

A link to Emily Dickinsons explanation of the affect remorse has on the memory.
http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/emily_dickinson/poems/9446.html

Reading through the first chapter of The Art of Memory I've become quite excited by the idea of have a rewind inside of my mind once again. My only question to you and everyone else is what if you once had it- but than have since lost it? Is such a thing regainable? The memory is but a part of the brain so what happens when the mind decides to block the things it dislikes, the things that displeases it, what then? Can such vision be regaind by reading such a book and applying the knowledge?

What happens when the memory sticks in your mind and can't be understood? Does your brain stall like a car, and wait for you to start it over. What have you missed in the mean time?

The day The world flipped itself upside down

3:35. January 17, 2001.The buses have all left and the few straggling students are hiding inside the entryway to the middle school; except me. I'm standing outside in the cold January wind, whipping across the fields as if invisible dancers swaying back and forth, and I've been waiting the past half-hour for my brother to pick me up. He's always late, that is whenever he has to pick me up, when mother is tied up in her newest pyramid scheme. Today is yet another day he's going to let me down, let the family down. Selfish prick. He's probably off getting loaded. Falling off the path again. The familiar fall off-rest stop that never seems to stick.
It looks as if this Wednesday is going to be a cold afternoon. I could wait around to see if he will arrive, but I might as well begin the mile and a half walk down the rolling hill towards home. Who knows if he'll even becoming. Nothings worse then the principal coming out of her office, looking you in the eyes with what looks like crinkled rocks holding the seawater back ever so weakly, and saying, "Are you alright dear? Do you know where your parents are?" Of course I don't. I'm in seventh grade. I have no cell phone, no car, hell I don't even have mittens or a cap but I'd sure rather walk home in the cold than sit through another pity session. I'd rather be a martyr, than a pet.
So it's off down the hill, down through the hill of socialist housing. The beautiful ridge that once graced the west side of my walkway is now completely covered in duplicate duplexes spanning from the edge of the school ground all the way to West Ridge Drive. The wind picks up as I enter the lower hills, and at each duplicate I pass the fury for my brother doubles and doubles until I'm swinging frozen fists in the air, fuming at the mouth and fighting back tears, the tips of my ears find know shelter beneath my short shaggy hair and I find myself shouting "I fucking hate you Josh. I fucking hate you Josh" time and time again as if entranced by the passing duplications. My anger boils to the point of where the exposed skin can only tingle and the tears nipple back into their ducts. My hands clench and unclench constantly while I envision telling Joshua off for what he's done. My imagination jumps to situations not fit for paper or reflection, and I begin to cool-down as I vent to the wind what no one else should wish to here.The Fire department looms into sight as I shiver the last few feet across the neighbor's front lawn shortcutting to the second house on the street; my house, hidden from the golf-course, and the canyon's lake by a row of dying bushes, now just brambles hanging in the way of a staggered cliff, a surprise to anyone that should walk uncertainly into it.With that I open the door, then the second and step in while simultaneously dropping the boulder of a pack from my shoulder's to the ground with a "thud".

"Where is Josh!" Mother asks from the kitchen parallel to the living room which the front door opens up into. A round wooden table with five chairs, two on the side closest the window next to the door, and a cheap chandelier hangs atop it. Mother looks at me through what once was a glass window overlooking a table atop, a smaller bookcase connected to a larger bookcase; both completely covered in the works that God-fearing people would have. She steps around the window and walks the open space that sits between the study and me and asks again, "JAMES. Where is Josh?"

"I Don't know." I say, tired and cold, not wanting any of this interrogation, only wanting my room or a bath.
"What do you mean you don't know! How can you not know! James Answer Me!"

"Mom he didn't pick me up! I walked home. I'm cold, just let me go to my room." By this time my mothers shaking my arm and staring down into my eyes, her, half bent over with a sinister look upon her face as if I've been the one getting high."Where could he be?" She asks intent upon me knowing something. "Where is my car James?"

"I don't know mom!" I say shrugging her arm off, giving her the two-step to the side and walking towards my room down the small hallway on the far side of the dinning room table.

"Dammit. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Who does he think he is! Taking my car and running around as if he owns it. He was supposed to pick you up and that's it. Bullshit twenty-eight days! Who does he think he is!-"The sound cuts out as my door swings shut and I settle myself atop my queen size heated water bed. With the lights off, I kick my shoes off and snuggle into the warmth.

I wake up thirsty, and wave off of my bed, and stumble across the clothes-strewn room towards the door and into the bathroom a few feet down the hall to my left. I turn on the cold water, letting it run a few seconds before taking a drink. another drink. yet another. I shut off the water and walk into the living room, taking a quick right past the glass cabinet, through the kitchen and into the study. the study is filled with a wall of books that my parents created so as to fit another son into the house we rent. It's a giant wall in the middle of the room witha door surrounded by rows and rows of books. To my left is yet more books in their cases. furniture lies helter-skelter around, shifted towards the television. I go to sit down on the brown leather chair, but become abruptly stopped by the front door opening and closing and the stamp of heavy feet. I sprint into the room to see mother frantic, jabbing the phone with her fingers, with the look only a parent could feel stretched upon her face.

"John's Home!" John yells.
"Mom?" I ask.

And again "Mom?"

"What James!" She snaps phone to her ear as if pressure could make a connection dial up quicker.

"Mom! Whats Wrong!" I yell. Upset by her spooked-self.

"They won't tell me!"

"What? Who Won't tell you? What are you talking about!" I scream.

"JAMES! Settle down!" John yells and stares down at me with his brown eyes; his black eyebrows creased into a show of power.

"Mom," John asks gently, "who are you calling?"

"Thomas. I need to talk to Thomas! He's nearest he'll know what to do. Oh this is just horrible."
mom is near whimpers towards the end, which is only the more confusing due to her pacing back and forth within the same two feet.

"Who was on the phone before hand? What did they tell you?" John asks my mother.

"A Nurse."

"And?"

"She said Josh is at the hospital, and that he was in a car wreck. She wouldn't tell me if he is dead or alive! What bullshit! How can they do this! OH MY GOD HOW CAN THEY DO THIS?"