#unsymbolical

[helenwhiteart-blog]

Thinking differently: life without an inner voice

I picked up a book “The Untethered Soul” By Michael A Singer as recommended in one of my podcasts the other day…however, I didn’t get very far before I was stopped in my tracks, forced to digest something described in the very first pages. Of course, I’m aware that so many self-help books refer to people having an inner voice, often an inner critic, that needs to be retrained in order to make…

[lingthusiasm]

Bonus 86: Inner voice, mental pictures, and other shapes for thoughts

When you think about your daily life -- say, going grocery shopping -- are your thoughts shaped like an inner voice or music, mental images or video, inner feelings or other sensory awareness, or unsymbolized mental impressions? Most people have some combination of these things, but the degree to which you literally visualize a bright red apple or mentally hear yourself saying "and don't forget the apples" is something that varies widely from person to person. But until we start asking about it, it's easy to assume that other people's thought-shapes are formed just like our own, and that any impressions to the contrary are just people speaking metaphorically.

In this bonus episode, Gretchen and Lauren get enthusiastic about the forms that our thoughts take inside our heads. We talk about an academic paper from 2008 called "The phenomena of inner experience", which asked 30 university students to write down the shape of their thoughts at random intervals throughout the day, and how their results differ from the 2023 Lingthusiasm listener survey questions on your mental pictures and inner voices. We also talk about more unnerving methodologies, like temporarily paralyzing people and then scanning their brains to see if the inner voice sections still light up (they do!). Listen to this episode about the shapes of thought, and get access to many more bonus episodes by supporting Lingthusiasm on Patreon.

[unable2sitstill]

"Our true freedom is in radical necessity. For example, I didn't choose to be trans consciously, but some unsymbolized force in my unconscious pulled my conscious self towards this identity. Queerness shares this essential character of radical necessity with art and love. We can't be compelled to love, but our unconscious chooses the object of our loving and we as conscious subjects find ourselves in love. We can't consciously choose to suddenly make beautiful art - there's a force that runs through us and art results from the creative necessity in our unconscious self. These are radical moments in which we choose ourselves."

[taergalive]

This is based on a conversation friends and I had. It got me curious about how other people think.

I won't lie, I don't quite understand how to explain the Feelings and the Unsymoblized Thinking very well.

*For Unsymbolized thinking, the best description I found was in this article: Unsymbolic thought is not some vague notion or fleeting thought, it is as specific as thinking “I wonder what would happen to Groningen if all electricity was suddenly cut off for 48 hours?” or “what lines of reasoning should I include in this blogpost of fewer than 800 words?”, but the key difference is that before I put these words onto paper, these ideas had no internal representation whatsoever. Like many other constructs in psychology, there is evidence to indicate that unsymbolic thinking is distributed to varying degrees across the population, and the amount that any one person experiences unsymbolic thoughts in their daily lives differs from person to person. Like any other style of thinking, a line of unsymbolic thinking can last seconds, minutes, or even hours. To paraphrase my younger brother, Unsymbolic thinking is “basically boneless thoughts”.

[the-framed-maelstrom]

The idea of political superiority always resolves itself into the idea of psychological superiority, in those cases where the highest caste is at the same time the priestly caste, and in accordance with its general characteristics confers on itself the privilege of a title which alludes specifically to its priestly function. It is in these cases, for instance, that “clean” and “unclean” confront each other for the first time as badges of class distinction; here again there develops a “good” and a “bad,” in a sense which has ceased to be merely social. Moreover, care should be taken not to take these ideas of “clean” and “unclean” too seriously, too broadly, or too symbolically: all the ideas of ancient man have, on the contrary, got to be understood in their initial stages, in a sense which is, to an almost inconceivable extent, crude, coarse, physical, and narrow, and above all essentially unsymbolical. The “clean man” is originally only a man who washes himself, who abstains from certain foods which are conducive to skin diseases, who does not sleep with the unclean women of the lower classes, who has a horror of blood—not more, not much more!

-Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals

[anonameisadditions]

The Curtains Are (Depressed) Blue

One of the chief complaints lobbied by people against media analysis and middle school level English classes is one most infamous anecdote. A teacher, typically imagined as a bright, high minded woman in her early 30’s, has a classroom read a chapter on some depressed character. She proposes the question to her captive audience- “Now, can anyone tell me why the curtains are described as blue in this chapter?” The trap is set. The children, slumped over their desks, and holding their head in their hands, reeling from the sugar crash of their early morning breakfast cereal, sit in silence. Eventually, one brave soul- a young man, slightly overweight, in that husky, soon-to-develop-a-footballer physique, raises a single hand. The teacher calls on him, and in his absolute naivete, proposes the following - “Maybe the curtains are blue because the author thought they were blue.”

He is immediately hoist by his blue petard. The teacher strikes, smiling like a ravenous tiger. “No, (you absolute fucking cretin), the curtains (The sheets, you idiot, think of the sheets) are blue because they symbolize the character’s depression!”

The class remains completely silent. His hand goes down- but he knows for certain that he is not wrong- the curtains ARE blue because the author thought they were blue. He is furious, and decides from that point onwards, the only good books are ones about real, unsymbolic things, like orcs and dragons. He is not wrong for this. 

THE WAY WE TEACH MEDIA ANAYLSIS IS FUCKED.

Now that i’ve gotten your attention, let me explain a little about myself. I’m ANoN. I’ve been writing since I could tie my shoes, which was about 12, so please, give me some grace, I’m a slow learner. But what I don’t know about knots, I know plenty about writing, and I’ve dealt with the same, basic argument from the badly informed, and often embarrassed masses about media analysis again and again. I don’t blame them- the experience I described is pretty typical in the American education system, and it doesn’t get much better from there. Studies have shown that 1 in 5 American adults read below a 6th grade level, and all that describes is “may only understand very basic vocabulary or be functionally illiterate.“. But can you blame them? Books, something propped up as a source of knowledge and entertainment when inside the school environment became a showy, high-nosed, elitist field of abstract meaning and annoying hypotheses, generated by academic types stroking their hairless chins, striking their eyes up to the ceiling in mock contemplative thought, and what they bring from their introspection is something inarguable- an opinion. Yet, they ferret out these “opinions” as irrefutable truths, and, worst of all, the teacher- the beacon of learning- seems pleased as punch about this bullshit. 

If you weren’t “One of those kids”, you were lucky enough to have a parent or guardian or were just born different enough to appreciate language for language’s sake- to have been read to, to be told what makes a book “great”, in a capacity that wasn’t graded or evaluated. And from those early encounters in English, you, too, would have become jaded to the idea of such soft analysis. “The Curtains are Blue”, bah! 

I hear you, out there. Maybe you got far enough to read this part, and I would certainly want to shake your hand for doing so. To maintain even a passing interest in a subject beyond the meat-grinder of passion known as public education is commendable, and to do so on a site like TUMBLR is twice so. 

So I come to you, and I’m here to say- The curtains ARE blue because they symbolize depression. But it’s very possible the author didn’t think of that. 

DEATH OF THE AUTEUR

Art is complicated.

Yeah, big shocker.

WRITING, is complicated. And most complicated of all, is the writing process. 

In “Sequential Art” by Will Eisner, the authoritative book on comic production this side of the 21st century, Eisner observes the “Speech Bubble” is a desperation device- a drawn tool to help make the invisible visible- the art of human speech. It is referred to as such due to it running against the limitations of said medium of comix- the fact that it requires the delivery of sound, despite lacking the lips or speakers so to speak. But I would largely motion that the written word is a desperation device in itself- for text, in its blind destruction, removes-

Body language

Incantation

Personal context

Intrapersonal context

History

Ambiguity

When I type the sentence “John was a good boy,” You will sound it out in your head in the diction and expectations you bring to the table. You will imagine countless, endless possibilities that may run this feeble, poorly maintained and patched ship of mine aground. For instance- What if I told you John was a dog? OR what if I told you I was lying about that? Or what if I told you THAT was a lie- that John is, indeed, a dog? But, I mean like he’s “dog-like”, not literally a dog, and one of the “Good Boys”. With this complication, we must consider the possibility of the hack. Perhaps, on some level, every piece of art a person creates could just be the random, accidental stumbled lurch of a babe just learning to walk. Maybe we just hit the jackpot- And all that separates you, the bozo, to a man like Steven King or James Joyce is luck. 

This could probably offend a few of you- enterprising creatives and purveyors of Great Men alike- to imply that the greats of any medium are only great because of a roll of the dice- but what you miss in my assessment is the reverence in my voice for luck. In a commonly posted adage, two classes of pottery students were presented with different axioms- One was to spend all semester trying to make “The best piece of pottery they could make”, and the other “to make as many pieces of pottery as possible.” Surprise, Surprise- Group B not only improved faster than A, but created a much, much more interesting variety of pottery than A- including some pieces that were thought to be of higher quality than A’s semester project. 

Now is that “Luck”, or is that implying something else about the creative spirit- that it is, often, a chance encounter with greatness?

The Car Crash Metaphor

Let me share with you one of my favorite pieces of writing. This is an excerpt of “Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes”, by Harlan Elison, the infamous sci-fi writer of “I Have No Mouth, and Must Scream” and “"Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman”. In this short story, Maggie is a prostitute who, in a fit of rage at being requested to do something over the line for her job to a mobster, leaves her seedy motel room to blow off steam playing some slots, before she has a life-ending heart attack.

“She faced the machine squarely, and put in the first silver dollar. She pulled the handle that swine nuncio. Another dollar, pulled the handle how long does this go on? The reels cycled and spun and whirled and whipped in a blurringspinning metalhumming overandoverandover as Maggie blue eyed Maggie hated and hated and thought of hate and all the days and nights of swine behind her and ahead of her and if only she had all the money in this room in this casino in this hotel in this town right now this vry instant just an instant this instant it would be enough to whirring and humming and spinning and overandovrandoverandover and she would be free free free and all the world would never touch her body again the swine would never touch ehr white flesh again and then suddenly as dollarafterdollarafterdollar went aroundaroundaround hummmmmming in reels of cherries and bells and bars and plums and oranges there was suddenly painpainpain a SHARP pain!pain!pain! In her chest, her heart, her center, a needle, a lancet, a burning, a pillar of flame that was the purest pure purer PAIN!”

What follows is a sequence of what I would call “borderline experimental” formatting to try to capture the dying moments of a woman so consumed by greed and fury that she collapsed on the floor of the casino. And all throughout this, A single phrase ran through my head as I read it again, for this essay.

Desperation Device.

Now, it’s up to you to decide whether Harlan’s interpretation of a heart attack was fully captured by the text or not, but the reality is… no one really knows, do they? (Except for those who have actually had a heart attack.) Harlan’s efforts to capture this moment in this woman’s life might be just a fantasy- an effort of outright projection, fictional. 

But it’s certainly effective, wouldn’t you say? It forces a reaction, one way or another, and creates interest. But how? How did Harlen know the exact way to beat his language into shape as to sell the concept of a heart attack in a textural form? 

The answer is, he didn’t. Writing, and art in general, is a car crash wreck. 

Have you ever been to a junkyard? I have. You can see a wide variety of vehicles in various states of ruin- Some have had their entire rear ends split apart, Some have turned into tight, compact squares of metal mincemeat, and others are bent in a wide, rocking C shape. Each one of them is the story of a wreck- when a vehicle slammed into SOMETHING, whether it be a car, a tree, a building, a person, a lightpole- anything. 

There’s a big, complex industry around Car insurance and crashes- People with cheap suits and baggy eyes sip coffee, staring at spreadsheets and car model informations for companies to hopefully avoid paying people what they pay for- to try to find fault in the hands of the driver, to figure out what’s liable, and what’s not. It’s an antagonistic job- one where you conflict directly with your customers, who will present one story of their wreck- “It just stopped in front of me!” “The wheel spun out of control!” “The breaks didn’t work like they usually do!” and the insurance investigator will do the math, check the possibilities, and see what they can figure out about what happened. It’s kind of like being a detective, but instead of actually helping people, you look to screw them over, instead. But it’s not a mindless career, shockingly- Because you can never really know what happened, or what caused a crash. You can find the details that generally point towards one conclusion or another- whether it be a breaking failure, or user error, or genuine bad luck- But you’re always putting things together with limited information, and generally, biased, panicking sources. 

You can never really “Know” what caused a car crash- only see the effects of one, and surmise what went wrong. You can get pretty damn accurate- otherwise, the industry wouldn’t spend that much money on investigating claims- but the truth will always rest between heaven and earth. 

Creative analysis employs a similar methodology. When a person proposes an opinion on why a piece of art fails or succeeds, it is ultimately an opinion- but much in the way that the beginnings of a scientific theory is, to, an opinion. When you propose that those blue curtains are symbolic of the depression a character feels, it’s something that can be thought of as a justification of the effectiveness of that particular detail. If, in that chunk of analysis, one may find something that counters that opinion- Perhaps another more positive character in the story is also depicted with “blue” clothing- it forces the conversation forward. These smaller observations can stack together to form a larger observation, which you then can see if it applies to other stories, and as you notice the trend more and more in media, you’ll be able to- potentially!- Learn something about not only the writing process, but people in general.

This is the meat that things like “The Hero's Journey” or “Genre” are made up of. This is also why highly experimental art tends to lean to a more scholarly audience- As experimental works are ground zeroes for recognizing new through-lines in media in general. Something like “House Of Leaves”, in it’s strange, dissociated form-meets-function approach to writing and typography TELLS us something about the way audiences appreciate books, and memory- a trend you can see in other deconstructive memoristic stories, like Memento. 

And it’s certainly possible that some of these things ARE under authorial intent! But it stops mattering, rather quickly, when you’re willing to stop putting creatives on pedestals. There really is nothing that different than our sixth grader and Stephan King- Only a measure of self application in the field of their choice, and a continued interest in the subject material. 

I believe all people, regardless of background, circumstance, or intelligence, can stumble upon greatness writing, but they may be incapable of recognizing it until it passes under the crucible of public opinion. But to understand why something worked- well, that’s why we need to know why it matters that those damn curtains are blue.

[flikkers]

every day there are people connotating terms unplaceable and unsymbolical to the state of ohio

[leophnyx]

Ever since partially morphing and getting acclimated to the new normal, I've noticed that we were leaning back towards our old style of thinking, in particular before we found the plural community. I was resisting it, because it's a bit difficult to get anything done when we're like that, but it feels almost like letting all the identity labels fall by the wayside and just existing, doing what we want automatically and functioning on autopilot. It wouldn't be feasible - we'd be switching without order and doing what we like without a central leader - but it would be more natural than what we have now.

I really didn't want to think about it, or dive into it, but the way we function is kinda like... not thinking. For example, with me I obviously think about things, but I find that I don't actually have anything substantial going on in terms of how the thought is displayed or processed. We don't speak in pictures, we don't think in words naturally, and when we do talk to each other we have to do it in the innerworld. It's not something that comes naturally to us mentally, we have to use some amount of effort to put thought into words. It's why sometimes I can struggle with writing things down with comprehensible words - I'm not translating words or pictures into English, but blank thought.

The other day I found out that this form of thought is actually called unsymbolized thought? And I've been wondering if maybe that's why we have such trouble with the guides and such the plural community offers us. A lot relies on imagination, and while we can imagine the things they're telling us to, in the end it's just a mental image. It has no power or ability to change our subjective reality. But maybe if we start working with unsymbolized thoughts, our natural way of thinking, we can get somewhere.

[justme-stuff]

Zen is the unsymbolization of the world.

-R.H. Blyth

[davidguezart]

Parcours Artistique | David Guez Art L'artiste crée des textures dunamiques par le biais de marques géométriques répétitives appliquées avec une technique d'empâtement. Ses surfaces rythmées, monochromes ou comportant des teintes juxtaposées, évoquent à la fois desphénomènes naturels et une énergie d'un autre monde.

Guez est né à Tunis en 1954, a immigré à Paris lorsqu'il étaitenfant, a vécu à Los Angeles audébut de sa vie d'adulte, etréside aujourd'hui à Jérusalem. La diffusion de l'énergie physique et spirituelle de l'artistese matérialise par un coded'expression distinct. Il devient àla fois une métaphore visuellede son parcours et de ses expériences personnelles et unsymbole de l'évolution du tempset des concepts existentiels quinous définissent tous à unniveau universel. For more information Visit us:- https://davidguez.art/pages/about

[faebriel]

i have such a soft spot for wombats songs that are very straightforward and unsymbolic. yeah this song is about my first wedding. yeah it backfired at the disco

[mokeymokey]

I'm not even joking last night & this morning my head was so full of words I was genuinely afraid that I was losing my capacity for unsymbolized thought but I think it was just the prodrome of whatever just made me unable to stand up for 2 hours

[meghamchinukulu]

currently i am thinking about pretty photos. unsymbolic aesthetic photography thats just nice to look at and doesn't need one to analyse and go deep in thought about metaphors and symbols. fuck knives destroying clocks and photographic commentaries about the world, i wanna see pretty hands and pretty eyes and cute clouds in the sky. two people watching the sunset together. frogs being happy. sunflowers. wildflowers too honestly. two friends throwing confetti at each other. shaky polaroids because the photographer was laughing while taking the photo. pretty ceilings and pretty sunsets and leaves and potted plants. all art has to do is exist.

[whyithinkimneurodivergent]

Unsymbolized thinking (aka a lack of an inner dialog) is a symptom of adhd.

And that explains why it feels like I'm translating vague concepts into words when I talk.

And how my chronic pain makes communication more difficult because it disrupts that translation.

And then the world made sense.

[autoplaysdigimon]

well golly gee what a completely unsymbolic pose

[zwischenstadt]

Compared to other sign systems, human life is characterized by an extraordinary degree of plasticity: we are born as much blanker slates than other animals (Ansermet and Magistretti 2007).  While our brains do not come equipped with much preprogrammed software (human newborns have few ready-made instincts to ensure their survival), they have a tremendous capacity for connectivity.  Human identities are malleable: the distinctive capacity of the human brain is that it is capable of learning through socialization, forming new connections in response to interactions.  From our initial state of helplessness, we develop tremendous intuitive abilities to handle complex patterns and perform a range of different roles.  These capacities, however, come at a price: the impossibility of falling back on a set of prereflexive, genetically inscribed instincts.  When our apparatus of habits and orientations malfunctions or falls short, we experience a vulnerability that is probably quite unknown to other animals.  There is something ‘traumatic’ about the awareness that we have hit on the repertoire of social skills, performances, and capacities.  At the limit, we may be ‘mortified’ even though there is no threat whatsoever to our physical existence.  In such moments, when we feel ourselves to be slipping into an abyss of unsymbolized chaos, we seek to restore order by reaching for whatever branches we can discern, invariably its densest, most prominent and expressive signs- icons.  We regularly get lost in the labyrinthine networks of social life, and when we do, hegemonic signifiers are our first recourse.  They, after all, pack the most power, make available as much semiotic traction as we can hope to access.  When we have lost our way and all we can do is think of some random words to hint at what we need, we go to Google.  If we are at a loss for what to do, icons will give us a place to start, provide us with the traction and resources we need to begin addressing our problems.  It is important not to dramatize this process: anxiety is a pervasive feature of modern social interaction.  Most of us encounter the limits of our standard repertoire of roles on a daily basis, and in that sense modern life is a concatenation of traumatic events that become occasions for the renewed and intensified engagement with iconic signs.  We may feel deeply anxious about money, but it is nonetheless likely that our practical attempts to deal with this emotion will be directed to the procurement of money; that is, not the reconsideration of our relationship to money but rather an intensified engagement with it.  Our frequent encounters with the limits of symbolic order lead us to generate new meanings and solutions that connect, cluster, and layer to produce iconic signs, and it is through this process that we participate in the elaboration of the discursive edifice of power.

Martjin Konings, The Emotional Logic of Capitalism

This book is one of the most enlightening theory monographs I’ve read in a long time