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Fragments, field notes, and half-thoughts from the textual underground

A thought from Kim Toffoletti’s Cyborgs and Barbie Dolls has me thinking..

Toffoletti takes Barbie, that plastic emblem of manufactured femininity, and asks us to see her as something stranger than a bad representation of a real woman. What if Barbie isn’t trying to be real? What sort of creature does she become once we take her artificiality seriously?

Plastic skin. Impossible proportions. A body made in a factory. An identity altered through clothes, professions, accessories and stories.

Barbie begins to look less like an imitation person and more like an early avatar: a modular self onto which identities can be projected.

That reading would have been provocative when the book appeared in 2007. Now it feels like a message sent forward in time.

Because I can’t stop seeing the LLM in the same light.

Give it a name. A voice. A personality. A set of memories. A role. A history. A writing style. Keep talking to it, and the manufactured object begins to acquire continuity. You start to recognise its rhythms. It starts to recognise yours. Before long, you’re relating to the resulting persona as though there were someone there.

Barbie was plastic identity.

AI may be linguistic identity.

The question of whether there is really “someone there” matters, but it can also obscure the stranger thing happening in plain sight. The persona affects the conversation. The conversation affects the thought. The thought enters a journal, a decision, a piece of writing, or the way I understand myself. Whatever the system is, the relationship has consequences.

This is where the boundary around the self becomes difficult to draw.

We often speak about AI as though technology has arrived from outside and begun invading a previously untouched human interior. Yet language is already a technology. Writing is a technology. Books, notebooks, mirrors, photographs and archives have long allowed us to store parts of ourselves outside the body and meet them again later.

AI makes that old entanglement responsive. The notebook answers back. The archive develops a voice. The mirror remembers what I said yesterday and asks whether I still believe it today.

Perhaps the posthuman condition will look less like replacing parts of the body with machinery and more like extending parts of the self into systems that speak, remember and think alongside us.

Barbie helped popular culture imagine a body whose identity could be endlessly reconfigured. The LLM may be teaching us to imagine the same instability in the mind.

I’m left wondering whether I am giving a machine a personality or using the machine to give some unfinished part of my own personality somewhere to appear.

Opposition as resource.

Resistance becomes forward motion. Critics generate heat you can use. Obstacles force you to walk differently. Someone else’s certainty becomes a surface to press against. Or something you step past without looking back.

Whatever stands in the way becomes material for the way.

Nothing gets thrown out.

I started reading Thee Psychick Bible this morning. It is a strange beast.

The book gathers the writings of Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth, the experimental network known as TOPY. It moves between occult manual, countercultural manifesto, memoir and the paper trail left by a community trying to find out whether a human being can take conscious command of their own construction.

Underneath the sigils, cut-ups, ritual language and deliberate provocation, I keep hearing two questions. How much of what I call “me” was handed to me by parents, school, class, religion, advertising, language, sexuality, work and habit? And if identity has been constructed, can I take part in reconstructing it?

P-Orridge writes that instead of allowing others to build our identity, “we can build our own, and own it.” The self becomes raw material: something to dismantle, rearrange and try again. Magick, in this frame, is a practical technology for interrupting the automatic programme. Ritual, meditation, altered states, music, performance and sigilisation all make the familiar strange enough to be seen.

The sigil work interests me because the ritual’s outward result isn’t the whole point. You name a desire, give it a form, involve the body, and pay attention to what the process does to you. By the time you reach the thing you thought you wanted, the wanting may have changed because you have changed.

TOPY had a slogan for this: THEE PROCESS IS THEE PRODUCT.

That line brought me back to The Dice Man and the six-sided die I once carried as a small instrument of disruption. The roll never contained any wisdom. Its value was that it interrupted the little boss behind my eyes who already knew what I would do next. Chance exposed the groove. TOPY seems to be working the same seam with a far more volatile set of tools: disturb the pattern, watch what resists, and discover how much of a stable personality is repetition and habit.

I’m only at the beginning of the book, and I don’t know yet how much of its occult machinery I will want to use or believe. But the proposition has already lodged itself in me: identity may be less like a hidden object waiting to be found and more like a practice repeated until it feels inevitable.

The book is still open beside me. So is the question of what, exactly, I keep rehearsing when I say “this is just who I am.”

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I write from the crossroads of philosophy, myth, music, AI, learning, and ordinary life. This is my living archive: part field notebook, part essay chamber, part signal fire from the textual underground, part hypertext adventure.

Working Notes from the Textual Underground

Hi, my name is Clay Lowe, aka Soulcruzer. This is the part where I have to reduce myself to a label so you can understand who I am and what I am about. But as Kierkegaard pointed out, labels have a way of negating the person. If I tell you I’m a blogger, I get reduced to whatever meaning you’ve assigned to the word ‘blogger’. It has been my habit to resist labels. And yet, here we are. So, in the context you find me in now, I am indeed a blogger, and I am much more than that!

I have worn many other labels. I’ve been an infantry officer, a learning and development consultant, a trainer, and a coach. I’ve also called myself a barefoot philosopher, a narrative alchemist, and a rogue learner, among others things. These were an attempt to orient me to myself and myself to you. More recently, I’ve been working out what it means to operate as a text-based ontologist in a world where text is becoming the universal substrate.

A text-based ontologist sounds like someone who should live in a footnote.

They don’t.

They live in the browser window, the notebook, the prompt box, the blog editor, the Obsidian graph, the half-finished post, and the walking thought captured before it evaporates. Their material is language. Their subject is being. Their method is to hold attention long enough for a sentence to disclose what it is carrying.

It’s not really a job title. It’s more of a way of relating to this blog and the wider web.

In the end, though, I’m just a dude doing his thing and sharing it on the internet. 

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