Preamble - Zero

The Method of Loci

Oct' 2024
Reading duration: 4 minutes


Nothing should start with dancing Narcissistic Pirouettes right?
Especially not the Beginning. My Mother would never say that.
So I don’t do it either. Calmo. I am not a fluent dancer.
                                                I am not a fluent dancer.
                                                I am not a fluent dancer.
I do not call myself a Columnist. 
                                                                            /But maybe Dolly Blockbuster./

What I want to say is, instead i'm still expired to nudity (and so it’s highly inappropriate towards the dressed Ones, You understand, never point with a naked Finger onto attired People).
I explain my Lack of Familiarity with this Form stems from a Combination of neglectful Education in my younger Years and an almost deliberate Refusal to fill this Gap in not so young Years anymore, that’s just what it is today. 
It's eventually a lie; most likely a little grown Laziness disguised as Rebellion. 
        Either Way, it’s not about that confession. 

        There is no memory to the an-alphabetic life. 
One day, a Person just came and taught me how to do it, to Transcript the Internal. So magical. I don’t remember who was it but this Person gifted me the greatest Tool i own. 

20  Years passing, many Things happening.
      Synchronicities.

Well, we could elaborate on it but i am sure in all our Lifes Things happened, so just imagine the Time as it’s fitting best to Your Narrative and i will do the Same. I am not a Virgin anymore, that i can say. It's irrelevant.
Anyways. At some point in this Timetable I was thinking, the simple Owning of Vocabulary itself does help little to nothing when there is missing a Per-ception. Just because something was spoken out loud, doesn’t mean it says automatically something Relevant.

      A Writer is writing, no Doubt to that, while the Written is a Transcription of enliven Narratives.
With highest Respect, Authors are Voyeurs, and they would die if their Sub-jects of Observation stopped breathing.
This sounded sassy.

                                                                                                      /I am an artist./

         Assumingely, Observation is Interpretation’s Mother. 

        To Spy, however, i didn’t need to learn, because i enjoyed Voyeurism pretty natural. I starred through the Hedge at the Neighbor’s Kid when i was little little (because he misbehaved in my Eyes), i observed the Waiter when i was a little older (to see how he uses his Fingers), i couldn’t take my Eyes off, when my Friend had something on her Teeth. I was one of the Children that didn’t blink.
All the Seen was incorporated in a bigger Story, the Memory Palace, my Antiquary where all the Stuff got stored. This Way of memorizing Context is called Method of Loci, but basically I just starred a lot (in general). Isn’t that where Writing begins, have i been thinking. Susan Sontag once said, “The only interesting Ideas are Heresies.” 

But what is it, right? What is it...
[Two Days of unwanted Break.]
When i am in good Mood i say: ”It’s a beautiful Prison” and “don’t ask about the Curtains -” What’s behind the Curtain, oh Laurie [Andersson].

                                                       Introduction finished, pretty long, right? Sorry.

         Well, it might be explainable trough Semir Zecki’s Idea about Neuroaesthetics, which explores the neural Mechanism behind the human Understanding of aesthetic Experience and Judgment within perceiving / processing Art but let’s not talk about it.

What I want to say is pretty simple:
The art world is blown up by objective critiques, while Language Models are basically exact this, and I assume, everything is in that sense transcriptable.

Giving my Heart to Cynicals: by that Investigation even the Enigma of Elegance died in the Fingers of Science, it’s okay, because we can focus back on personal Experiences. I think it is the right Moment to ask the Questions, if we really need more human made dry, emotionless Critiques about Artpieces, which are not more than unaccompanied Singularities (referring for Example to the Phrasing around the Word “interesting”), that become therefore so badly badly boring, because they had never found Shelter in the Palace.

My conviction from in days go by decided this, the time passed, but time is not linear, so i still have it with me.


You know, i was thinking, maybe that’s the Trick - we’re all in Search of a perfect, neutral Judgment. A fair Critique that doesn’t come with the Weight of Personality, History, or Bias. But why actually?