for what it's worth

do you ever get the feeling that the story’s too damn real and in the present tense

or that everybody’s on the stage and it seems like you’re the only person sitting in the audience?

Some deep thoughts over at Shemyaza’s place, and a direct question to me which I will attempt to answer.

But first I’d like to thank Shem for – much like Avery did a while back – articulating so precisely the things I’ve been thinking about Neurocam.

Specifically:

The more you know - the less you suddenly feel you can say online. What an ingenious control method. It also highlights an interesting quality within the human condition when an opportunity for expose of (perceived) truth must be balanced against the possibility that one is only holding the rear leg of an elephant, and that there is so much more to find before one can say for sure that it is an elephant. Do you risk it all for some half assed glory from a bunch of keyboard jockeys engaged in their own conspiracy fantasy, or do you persevere for your own reasons because you are experiencing something genuine in the unveiling, whether it be a new way of thinking, seeing, observing - and do you deny this opportunity to others?

 And:

Another element is the roles we paint ourselves into, or are we manipulated into them?

I highlight these passages because they speak so directly to the questions posed to me by Shemyaza:

Dear Lady J - you have become the Neurocam Operative Den Mother. How has this affected your Neurocam experience?  As the hub for Operatives worldwide and the crossroads where the Neurocam Devils taunt and tempt - have you now become a critical part of the Neurocam machinary? Can management afford to progress you past particular level, with the possible result being that you are no longer in the position of asking the intersting hypothetical questions, stirring speculation and discussion because you know too much?

Really just the first question is directed at me. The second two can only be answered by Neurocam management. But I’ll share my thoughts on all three, and try not to devolve into a navel-gazing pityfest. I've been experiencing some weird sort of reverse-chronology PMS this week, so please bear with me.

I have felt shut out of a lot of what’s been going on with Neurocam. At the same time, I’ve been annoyed and disappointed by the continued amateurish attempts at sandbox hijacking by robinhelync/unowwhoiam/luther-king. And to a certain degree, especially since Avery published the essay referenced above, I’ve lost my enthusiasm for chasing down the “details” of Neurocam – the names and addresses and stock exchanges that seem to add up to a whole lot of nothing. I have continued a rather lackluster pursuit of some of these avenues, but they don’t seem to be leading anywhere. And they won’t, until and unless the people who hold whatever secrets may exist decide that those secrets need to be revealed – partially, fully, or in some distorted manner. I don’t expect said secrets to arrive on my doorstep in giftwrap, but I also feel like the ball is currently (and has been for some while) in the court of my sources. Am I meant to push harder? I don’t know. Perhaps I will. Maybe some follow-up is required.

So what is my current role within Neurocam, and how is that affecting my future role(s)? I do feel as if I’ve bumped up against a chilly, silent glass ceiling. I don’t know why this has happened. Because I don’t ask enough questions of management? Because I’ve slowed my investigations of the organization through external sources? Or because my blog is relatively high profile? I’m willing to own the first two, but I feel any impact on my experience resulting from the latter is unfair. (Heh, because life is so fair.) I’ve refrained from publishing certain sensitive bits of information, both – as Shem writes about – for my own benefit and for the benefit of others who would gain more from discovering this information themselves. But I do offer a place to ponder the more overarching questions of the Neurocam experience, which I think is valuable and I know has been enriching for me. How extreme does Neurocam intend to be about shutting out blogging operatives from certain elements of participation, and are they necessarily making the right decision?

And now that I have publicly called into question the decisions of Neurocam’s upper management, I will most surely never hear from them again. Except perhaps for a nasty dismissal note.

Sigh.

(And as you can see, the quality of my writing goes downhill like a fat kid on a sled when I can't think straight...)

weekend update

Much like the lovely Ms. Paige, this webmistress has decided it's time for some spring cleaning.

Of the purely administrative kind.

Call it librarian porn, but the Operatives list needed some discipline. I've deleted most of the blogs that haven't been updated in more than a month, though I'll continue to check on them periodically. Any blog that shows signs of life will be restored to the list. I've also added even more new operatives: another Buffalo, NY blogger Roger That (friends with Toby?); Melbourne (bastard!) op Exodus; and not-so-new operative Conchis, who I suspect may be living la vida Solar. Cam operations in London circa September 04? The Circle di Luce? Hmmmm. (Softly hums the old SS ditty "one of these kids is doing his own thing"...) Conchis recently returned from a prolonged and seemingly unintentional blogging hiatus; it should be interesting to see what he comes up with next.

In other news, Hely updates with the following hash: 2346238487632 1209381203812830912HFK777TRE. Does anybody else wonder if we're being toyed with here? That maybe these "coded" messages of late are pure gibberish?

Last, Q makes a slight modification to his most recent update, adding a link from the "Beware the blue hat" text to fortitudegame.com. Fortitude is a Jason Maling project that will launch its first Australian match on April 9 in Melbourne (natch). The first training day was -- coincidentally or not -- March 20, the same day as the Bolte Bridge assignment. [note to self: do not draft posts and try to answer emails at the same time...]

backlogged

There are 11 Cam-related emails in my inbox currently waiting for replies, some of which deserve thoughtful and considered response. Some of which have been waiting patiently for more than a week. I'm sorry. All hell broke loose between members of my staff while we were in New York, and I've been busy trying to mediate a shitstorm ever since. Plus perform my regular job duties. Plus shop for groceries. Plus get caught up on Carnivale (which I'm not, so no spoilers please!).

So. Answers to all, soon. I promise.

covered in lint and time for a cigarette

Just added three operative blogs to the sidebar:

Gothic, who's not new -- I just managed to overlook him until recently. Doesn't post much besides his photography, but his work is beautiful and worth the visit. I only wish he'd post more often (hint, hint!).

And two brand-spanking new blogs: tobyesterhase and urchin x, whose site launches with a gorgeous little quote from John Berger. Toby's in Buffalo, NY; urchin doesn't give a location, but given the recent post title "end of summer" I'm guessing somewhere on the other side of this wobbling globe.

Boy is out of town until tomorrow and I'm taking perverse pleasure in blasting my music while I blog at 5 a.m. Quiet music just isn't the same, especially those power chords. I know you know what I mean.

tristero

I still haven't cracked the gibberish left at Xade's, Beltaine's, or now here, and I suppose it's possible -- as Xul suggests -- that the author is merely impersonating Iocus Severus. Nonetheless, The Crying of Lot 49 seems to be the new game in town (I do wish somebody who was a known quantity would confirm whether this assignment is actually originating from the Cam). As such, I can only assume we were meant to find the following (or something similar). Warning #1: Possible book spoilers ahead. Warning #2: Extremely long blockquote ahead. I'm probably a plagiarist now.

1.4. Thomas Pynchon
     The search for meaning is one (if not the most important one) of many themes in
Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. The plot tells the story of Oedipa Maas
whose late lover Pierce Inverarity named her in his will the executor of his estate.
Oedipa leaves for Los Angeles and San Narciso where Inverarity is said to have left
numerous assets.
     As she goes about the business, Oedipa begins to sense the impossibility of
arriving at the knowledge she was supposed to obtain. Instead, she encounters more and more of mysterious signs (muted post horns, various mutations of the name “Tristero,” etc.) testifying to the existence of a veiled, alternative reality which is in strict opposition to the “official” one. Resembling a system of binaries (either/or), the world around her seems to be prearranged and determined by something or somebody – Oedipa, in a state of growing paranoia, feels trapped within a plot, a conspiracy. She even suspects that it may have been Inverarity’s secret plan. Yet, in her desperate attempts at comprehension, she falls victim of the opposite, solipsistic view that reality surrounding her is only her invention. When visiting an exhibition of Remedios Varo’s paintings in Mexico City, she becomes frustrated, although she finds in them a metaphor of her predilection:

[I]n the central painting of a triptych, . . . were a number of frail girls with heartshaped faces, huge eyes, spun-gold hair, prisoners in the top room of a circular tower, embroidering a kind of tapestry which spilled out the slit windows and into a void, seeking hopelessly to fill the void: for all the other buildings and creatures, all the waves, ships and forests of the earth were contained in this tapestry, and the tapestry was the world.

     Oedipa experiences something that may be called “epiphany,” a feeling verging
on religious enlightenment. She senses an outside “force” – she calls it “magic” –
imposing a “meaning” which nevertheless remains ambiguous. Oedipa is uncertain
whether she weaves or is herself woven: “Such a captive maiden, having plenty of time to think, soon realizes that her tower, its height and architecture, are like her ego only incidental: that what really keeps her where she is is magic, anonymous and malignant, visited on her from outside and for no reason at all.
     Pynchon, who often employs science for literary experiments, uses in The Crying
the metaphor of entropy – the Second Law of thermodynamics – which is a measure of
randomness or disorder in a closed system. It is based on the principle of constant
cessation of difference (heat/cold) until a state of sameness, balance and ultimately
death is reached by the system. That is why the universe (as all closed systems) is said
to be “running down.” Pynchon’s application of this term is, however, more
complicated than that, for he draws on information theory as well, and this context
yields a different understanding of entropy. Here, disorder raises the amount of
information a message carries. Thomas Schaub suggests that Pynchon exploits entropy
in the two contexts simultaneously: according to him, the writer uses entropy in the
thermodynamic sense to describe the American Dream which Oedipa witnesses as
running down. On the other hand, the heroine’s sorting out may, in the information
theory context, represent a counter force to chaos and death. Therefore it may be
suggested that Oedipa is metaphorically Maxwell’s Demon involved in the process of
sorting out molecules. What is more, the metaphor can be extended to denote the act
of reading itself. Like Oedipa, Pynchon’s readers search for clues through the dubious
“information system” and try to connect them, to create a pattern which should
ultimately produce coherence and intelligibility. The whole novel, however, seems to be built on a struggle between the metaphorical on the one hand and the literal on the other. This constant friction produces ambiguity which is never to be resolved and implies a middle ground between the said polarities.
     Pynchon’s novel is preoccupied with communication and the promise of meaning
it offers and negates. In fact, true communication is unreachable. Schaub notes: “As
[Oedipa’s] talent for sensing meaning behind patterns ripens, the patterns proliferate and haunt her. . . .” The nature of language, or any system based on signs for that matter, is not representational. The text is not a tool for a message, it is the message itself. Oedipa finds more and more data, but instead of being closer to the “truth,” she seems to be even more lost in the labyrinth. Paradoxically, the more information one gathers, the less information one gets; entangled in a maze of signifiers constantly deferring any verifiable “truth.”
     As a metafictional novel, The Crying of Lot 49 is a commentary not only on the
search for meaning of Pynchon’s readers but also on the general tendency of applying
order, coherence and patterns to fiction. At the end of the novel, Oedipa is still lost in
pervading ambiguity, as is the reader who will never be able to arrive at the “meaning” or “correct” interpretation of what he/she has read.

a new assigment; an expanded mythology?

New operative tobyesterhase posts on the Neuroboard that he's received an assigment having "something to do with The Crying of Lot 49."

You'll recall that the book was mentioned on Graham's blog exactly a year ago today, in the text of one of many emails supposedly sent to Neurocam and then passed on to Graham via CD. I linked to the reference back in January; as far as I know these are the only times the book has been connected to the Cam (at least in public, online forums).

Anybody else get this assigment, or know anything about tobyesterhase?

intrigue abounds

I go away for a few days and come home to a Neurocam suddenly rife with riddle.

Xade taunts us with the cryptic passage ulWdKBiblByclxGbpV2cyFWT; Beltaine puts another enigma to Iocus Severus and the rest of us:

HNRNTAVQBEAURNEHNNSMEIGIWCYEEAEEYLTN
MSSUWCPRAOPUAOTMIIRLTNYNIAFAEHIEMPLM
ROBTOASURANPELECMENSOYYOYTHAIAORIAYO
OHVEUEYNNEMLDECMYEREOLMUOTAVRMNAED
ERODISETASDUACLMHEOOSEA

Though neither of these seem to be ciphered in Vigenere, Atbash, or simple ROT, I am also teh suck at cryptography -- so I could be wrong.

Anybody have a solution they feel like sharing?

international herp of mystery

d.b.a.

outta town

Righto. So I'm going to be away at a conference through Sunday. Internet access may be intermittent. I'll do my best to keep up and keep in touch and not puke green on St. Paddy's day. Or the morning after.

Have a good week, yo.