There is something exhibitionistic about this. And then again, I've always been the person who enjoys running around nekkid in the great outdoors.

That said, it is an odd thing, privacy of thought. The content of thought, surely, is private. The content of cognitive processes, and more so perceptual processes, cannot be open to anyone but the corresponding thinker or perceiver. It is not in our power to make the content public. It is more than opening up your room to guests, and merrily inviting them in. It is not enough that one reveals the content to others. The fall from privacy seems to require that these others know that nothing is hidden. Privacy seems to remain even if these others know all there is to know, as long as they do not know they know it all. And this is not possible except to those telepaths among us.

On a side note, Jean Grey is hot, when she's not starting blankly into space and drooling.
Or maybe she's especially hot then.

You're sick, all of you.

The form of thought, however, is observable (The solipsists are crying, but no one else exists anyway). Be it by the Bene Gesserit detection of dilated irises and raised eyebrow, or the Matrix analysis of electrodes-in-brain, thinking is an act. Acts are, by their nature, events. We need not know the nature of these events (and I can hear the dualists rejoice even here, separately from their bodies which are also performing rejoicing motions), but merely their existence. One cannot keep the existence of thought private.

It seems then that my exhibitionistic streak is not to be appeased. I cannot make public anything that was private. All I can do is reveal a little of the workings of the Great Machinery, and perhaps bring light to the cogs and gears and oscillators that function within.



And wow. I need practice writing. It's been too long.