This is the special piece, the one in the middle, with no number (the next part is VI) and a weird ordering of the parts. Let’s talk about structure a little more.
All semantic systems commonly employed by human beings have some form of deep or hidden structure that seems to provide for infinite creation and endless fascination for my freshly-evolved monkey brain. They achieve this property by having some basis in structure, some internal logic. They have the very important property that if a human being (or “intelligent system”) comes across a partially complete semantic artifact (in a system he is familiar with) then there is the theoretical possibility that they can complete it. There are potentially infinite ways to perform this completion, but — and this is the part I always thought was cool and important — the semantic system assigns different probabilities to different completions. This semantic system changes over time, and everyone has their own strange and personal and flawed encoding of it, but there is a broad sense in which some endings are more expected; and this encodes also the interplay between setup, follow-through and conclusion, and the strong relations between different parts of a semantic artifact in how they come together to form the entire message of the Creator.
I am trying to structure my stories. I am involved in the business of production of semantic artifacts, and I am somewhat aware that my work involves either satisfying or breaking expectations in an interesting way. It is precisely the choices I make in this infinitely branching probability tree that define who I am as an expresser of human experience. I am trying to structure my writing, my stories. It seems like I want a beginning. Once I have a beginning, I think I want a middle, where I fuck some shit up that I talked about in the beginning a little bit. At the end of the middle, there’s a lot of threads hanging loose; all of the different dependent substructures are in very interesting parts of the probability tree. They are standing in local minima, right before huge peaks. They are in places where a human being, reading and understanding my artifact, would feel worried, anxious, incomplete. At this point I whip out the end and
okay oh my god you’re going to regret rule #3, because I’m going to abide by it and continue that sentence the way it first came out
… at this point I whip out the end and come all over their faces. They blink in surprise and satisfaction. I am honored by the survival of my memes in the minds of humans, potentially leaving some part of the structural variations that originated here, in this, my monkey brain, so ingrained in the human culture that it travels with them wherever they find success and Lebensraum. I can write my way to the stars, to distant galaxies even. I have faith in my species. Maybe one day even aliens might understand my semantic artifacts. Even though I am forced to die just some decades from now.
I guess rule #3 is helpful. Everything I’m blabbing right now is stuff I wouldn’t have written. But once I’d started this bullshit I had to finish it. It’s pretty crappy though. Enjoy.