nd it came to pass in this merry land of ours, star date Jan the 1st in the year of our Lord 2001. What's it all about ? Come on answer me, what is it all about ? STOP !!!! Look at the goldfish for several moments and jot down your INITIAL observations. An initial glance at the goldfish bowl tells my senses that a maniacal fish is spinning hopelessly out of control devoid of any direction and incapable of rationalising its tiny environment. Now I know the goldfish is only a computer generated inanimate image but if we observed a 'real' goldfish in a 'real' goldfish bowl the only difference is a perception of a 'real' living and breathing life form. At this point the nerve ends begin to tingle. One's consciousness becomes a little tentative. Is it tangible to draw a corollary with life ?

Even my inner schizophrenia is unable to cope with the outer contentions I am taxing it with at this moment. What is more, combining questions is not the way to confront my delicate cerebral matter particularly after it shed so much of its life for me yesterday evening. The usual ritual of self identification begins. Who am I and where do I fit in this grand universe of toil and tension. What spec in which bit of the ionosphere am I occupying this moment. Why can't I find the absent centre ? Why if I think, am I not ? Its not about money, I don't have any. Its not about happiness., I'm not happy. In fact it's not about life, I don't have one. Well not in the material sense of carving a coveted niche of materialism. So pray tell me wise goldfish, is the water wet and if so, how wet is it?

I, like you, am sitting here staring at the goldfish. What if I could transplant my brain into the Goldfish? Would that increase its several second capacity of thought and enable it to make sense of its environment? If this were possible where would I be? Would I be suspended in its watery tomb looking at my eyes staring in? Or, would I be outside looking at myself in the body of the goldfish? Here I am goldy !! If these thoughts interest you, even for a moment, you are lost; swirling around in a pool of philosophical confusion. But then, how did I know where I meant when I thought 'here'. Could I think I meant one place when in fact I meant another? Would we, in fact, consider the act of transplanting our brain into a goldfish rational behaviour?

Let's examine the phenomenon...

The cultural association of such an act implies irrational behaviour. But even so, rational or Irrational behaviour is only relative to the prerequisites that govern the event in the first place. The event being the stimulus induced by making sense of my environment. This could suggest an excitable and , in the case of transplanting my brain, desperate nature. It could also suggest hesitancy (a first reaction induced by the abhorrent nature of the act (followed by an irrational 2nd action - jumping into the water regardless.) Or, which seems more likely, insatiable desire brought willingly to the surface by intentional systems in my subconscious ie: I have always been crazy but my irrational behaviour is not irrational after all its part of the cultural dictates of the society in which I live and therefore internally (but not always externally) construed as rational. This would suggest I am no longer in control of my own destiny but destined to become encapsulated and thereby dictated (albeit non-consciously) by society itself. What a great excuse for acts we commit in life that we do not wish to be responsible for. My apologies here to British Rail for the free train rides I took as a student. It seemed perfectly rational at the time. Indeed everyone else was doing the same thing. Does this mean it was right? Did I really have a free choice to buy the ticket ? At least I made a choice. Is that not what seperates us from the beast ? As was the case of Buridan's ass. Buridan's ass was a poor unfortunate beast that travelled weeks and months (a very resiliant ass) in search of sustenance. Hungry, thirsty and equidistant between food and water it died when confronted with a plethora of both. It perished for lack of the divine nudge that in a human being epiomises free choice. What does it avail me if I am free to choose a train ride, but not free to choose between buying a ticket or stealing a free ride ? However inarticulate an idea of free will this seems to be, one should not discount its scope for projection. 'Choices' of this type seldom obtrude in our conscious deliberation, no doubt, but they are ubiquitous nonetheless at an unconscious level. Whenever we choose to perform an action of a certain sort, there are no doubt slight variations in timing, style and skeletal implementaion of those actions that are within our power but beneath our concern.

Although I have not covered all angles, I'll make a choice to leave the debate at this point. I feel happy that my selection system has exonerated me from any kind of responsibility. I am therefore a goldfish with an increased memory capacity and an infinetly larger goldfish bowl. The 'goldfish bowl of life' serves my every need. It sustains me with an intermittent offering of guppie flakes and keeps me safe within the constraints of its oppressive exterior. If I look up I can see a brave new world. A world without water, without my glass bowl and without the sanctity of the intrinsic elements of my existence. I do not wish to strive for this utopian 'outer world'. I am happy. And so am I. I am more confused now than in my initial confused state. But what the hell !!! I can live with it. But, can you????????????

But Remember...................

I Am Watching You Watching Me Watching You

Confusion Is Just A State Of Mind.

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