I’ll give a Just So story version. Reality isn’t Platonic or Newtonian. It’s not possible to just look around and size up a resolution of forces. Reality isn’t a collection of instantiated deterministic models. It’s a collection of signal and noise. Signals have direct salience to our present wellbeing or even existence. Noise doesn’t, except to the extent that it masks the signal. Noise can be divided into two types--interference and random variation. Interference occurs when trying tease out incoming perception that is relevant to two or more aspects of life to be able to act on the right signal. Random variation is just sound and fury signifying nothing. The task in both case depends on pattern recognition. Is that signal “take cover” or “all clear.” The a background pattern signal or noise? Because randomness is not the absence of patterns. Randomness is absolutely chock full of patterns
In our quotidian lives we are good at things such as knowing the difference between a truck backup alarm and a microwave finishing. Simple signals disambiguate into simple patterns. But other times we are surrounded by supposed signal that isn’t. The poor market technical analyst finds a market break’s explanation in a long series of daily price changes with “triple tops,” “spinning Batons” and other spurious artifacts of random walks. Randomness is full of patterns.
So, we bumble through our lives with imperfect information and heuristics. Our analogue minds wrestle with intractable digital problems. Our digital minds wrestle with intractable analogue problems. All things considered, it no wonder we fool ourselves so often.
You make some interesting points, Richard. There are many fascinating things in Storr's book, but the thing that most stood out to me was how it's basically impossible to be a human without having a theory of oneself, or a story of oneself, and people are loathe to accept as fact any inconvenient thing that does not conform to their own 'story'. It's easy to see this kind of behavior in people who are in cults, or who believe the Earth is flat, or whatever, but hard to see it in ourselves.
Another interesting topic in both Kermode's and Storrs' books his how we conceptualize time in categorizing our memories. This is a topic that is of great interest to me in this particular project, my Sundman figures it out! series.
Anyway, I'm always happy to see your comments. Keep 'em coming.
An outstanding post, Brother Sundman! Some good poetry, some good philosiphizin'., something familiar, something peculiar, something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Vaguely apropos, allow me to quote what may well be my favorite poem ever:
I've never seen that show. I think I might like it, but from everything I've read about it I'm pretty sure that my wife would not, and I seldom watch TV by myself. Alors. . .
It's not just that he's an unreliable narrator, he's a very crafty creator of fictions. I've really got to do an essay on that book -- only, only about 3 people would read it, and it would take up time that I really REALLy need to be spending on other projects.
I don't know about that. Newark has its charms, I suppose. If you read my essay on Catholicism & Human Sexual Response you'll see one of them alluded to.
I’ll give a Just So story version. Reality isn’t Platonic or Newtonian. It’s not possible to just look around and size up a resolution of forces. Reality isn’t a collection of instantiated deterministic models. It’s a collection of signal and noise. Signals have direct salience to our present wellbeing or even existence. Noise doesn’t, except to the extent that it masks the signal. Noise can be divided into two types--interference and random variation. Interference occurs when trying tease out incoming perception that is relevant to two or more aspects of life to be able to act on the right signal. Random variation is just sound and fury signifying nothing. The task in both case depends on pattern recognition. Is that signal “take cover” or “all clear.” The a background pattern signal or noise? Because randomness is not the absence of patterns. Randomness is absolutely chock full of patterns
In our quotidian lives we are good at things such as knowing the difference between a truck backup alarm and a microwave finishing. Simple signals disambiguate into simple patterns. But other times we are surrounded by supposed signal that isn’t. The poor market technical analyst finds a market break’s explanation in a long series of daily price changes with “triple tops,” “spinning Batons” and other spurious artifacts of random walks. Randomness is full of patterns.
So, we bumble through our lives with imperfect information and heuristics. Our analogue minds wrestle with intractable digital problems. Our digital minds wrestle with intractable analogue problems. All things considered, it no wonder we fool ourselves so often.
You make some interesting points, Richard. There are many fascinating things in Storr's book, but the thing that most stood out to me was how it's basically impossible to be a human without having a theory of oneself, or a story of oneself, and people are loathe to accept as fact any inconvenient thing that does not conform to their own 'story'. It's easy to see this kind of behavior in people who are in cults, or who believe the Earth is flat, or whatever, but hard to see it in ourselves.
Another interesting topic in both Kermode's and Storrs' books his how we conceptualize time in categorizing our memories. This is a topic that is of great interest to me in this particular project, my Sundman figures it out! series.
Anyway, I'm always happy to see your comments. Keep 'em coming.
If it weren't for Mr. Bayes, our minds wouldn't be possible.
We seek the signal
hallucinating all the while
that we know the world.
An outstanding post, Brother Sundman! Some good poetry, some good philosiphizin'., something familiar, something peculiar, something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Vaguely apropos, allow me to quote what may well be my favorite poem ever:
This Be The Verse
BY PHILIP LARKIN
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
It occurred to me This Be the Verse could have been the epigraph for Succession except it’s maybe a little too on the nose.
I've never seen that show. I think I might like it, but from everything I've read about it I'm pretty sure that my wife would not, and I seldom watch TV by myself. Alors. . .
I recommended The Sense of an Ending to my wife’s book club and they DEBARKED me afterwards. What, you don’t care for unreliable narrators?
It's not just that he's an unreliable narrator, he's a very crafty creator of fictions. I've really got to do an essay on that book -- only, only about 3 people would read it, and it would take up time that I really REALLy need to be spending on other projects.
Allan’s buried in Newark, or at least his ashes are. Is New Jersey the navel of the world?
I don't know about that. Newark has its charms, I suppose. If you read my essay on Catholicism & Human Sexual Response you'll see one of them alluded to.