The Kundabuffer is the ‘OK-making’ device of the mind that I have for so long intuited. It’s what I’m driving at in the fifth paragraph of #8.
[” But the mind filters on, makes OK, shields the tender mortal eyes. Binds them once more to its will, booming but one elemental command: ‘LIVE ON.’ “]
It is a relative of the psychic censor, but this concept has a much stronger Gnostic redolence. That most strange and unsayable sense of recognition in watching Westworld… the android in us getting a bit self-conscious.
* * *
The scene of a car-crash passed at speed; the look in the face of a roadside vagrant, the faces on the tube; beauty that calls the soul to arms; intimations of animality; clearings steeped in silence far from scents of the formicary.
A glitch of thought that leads by accident to an inaccessible door of the mind, an uncanny sense of vertigo.
‘Doesn’t look like anything to me.’