Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Y’all ever Hear the One about the Alchemist who Concocted the Philosopher’s Stone?

That betch held fast to the clouds and squealed, “Wee! Wee! Wee!,” all the way home; bedazzled, hanging by their neck for the whole town to see. Hear my decree: “I have lost it! In fact, I have not seen a thing!”

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Kein Kapital zu Mein Herz Lyftin’

Turn left
Continue straight
Merge onto I-76
Left exit 339
Pick up passenger in 3.5 miles
A voice hardly consoling
Cold and empty
Much like my bank account
Steering my wheel
As a public dredging
Through the muck
Of history
No fruits
Only labor
If I’m not careful
I’ll half believe
The serpent Marx
No warmth from without
I go within
Barely flickering
My will still lives
I try not to breath
Too heavily
My history
Won’t culminate
At least
Not today
Sophia, I hope you see
What I’m willing to do
To continue
On your behalf

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Logic, Contemplatively Complete

The sun arose one morning
To no one wondering where it had gone
All night, the world was left to the moon’s devices
Bare intuition its only guide
To self-perseverance
Nocturnal instinct prowling
Per usual
Beasts growling; pouncing; spilling blood
Nothing out of place in the dark of night
Nothing new to be known
No function left alone
Redundantly reflected
In the glorious light of day
The sun finally realized the worth of its valuing
A mere paternal place holder
Patterning from afar
A taxing order
Of categories devoid of meaning
In and of themselves
We revolve around nothing in particular
And that alone makes perfect sense
The sun grew red with embarrassment
As it prepared to implode
In the nude
In accordance with natural law
What sap is next to fill the primal position?
Who’s next in line to be king?

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What’s Numerical and Relative to Us

From across great divides the soul finds its mean,
Mean truth:

No matter your travels
You’ll never reach your end
Heaven awaits eternally
Wondering why you haven’t shown up yet
Bound, gagged, and determined
You’re free to shape reality
So long as you’re all up in it
Stuck as a stick in the mud
Soggy sweet nothings squished between your toes.

I call upon what’s immanent
I need a bit of Hell to light my way

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Lawn Chair Philosophy and the Crisis of American Wisdom: A Philosophical Call to Action

Dear Readership,

The following video is my alternative-philosophy presentation from Saturday’s “This is Philly Philosophy” mini-conference, sponsored by The Lawn Chair Philosophy Foundation and the Philadelphia Philosophy Meet-up Group. I would love some feedback, as I want to spruce this thing up into a platform which might serve future fundraising/writing endeavors. It begins with self-exploration, a poem, and a wardrobe change. The act which follows bears a call to action and a 4 point plan involving metaphysically fruitful axioms, a wild mythos, hands-on-heuristics, and a community of care. Hope you all enjoy!

❤ aminal





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Crisis of the Animalian Sciences

Lawn Chair Philosophy is so much more than a social service seeking to provide the Greater Philadelphia Area with quality philosophical resources to those demonstrating great need. Its phenomenological and metaphysical position potentially possesses the solution to dissolve fundamental issues plaguing quantum theory from its inception. Ms. Animal believes the solution currently exists in condensed form: as an abstract to a paper due in September, and as poems/essays/videos Ms. Animal has amassed over the past 7 years. She plans to spend the next few months finalizing her findings. Below is a copy of the abstract, a link to the original abstract with the proper citations, and pertinent links to poems past. If you believe in the power of LCP, please consider donating to Ms. Animal’s GoFundMe Campaign. She has had some terrible health luck, veritably rendering the paper writing process financially unviable.

.   .   .

“Time in Suspension: Phenomenologically Constituted Quantum Theory Yields a Robust Reality, a Unifying Cosmology, and the Collapse of the Measurement Problem”

To ask or search I blame thee not, for heaven
Is as the book of God before thee set,
Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn
His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years;
This to attain, whether heaven move or earth,
Imports not if thou reckon right; the rest
From man or angel the great Architect
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge
His secrets to be scann’d by them who aught
Rather admire; or if they list to try
Conjecture, he his fabric of the heavens
Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide
Hereafter, when they come to model heaven
And calculate the stars, how they will wield
The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive
To save appearances, how gird the sphere
With centric and eccentric scribbled o’er,
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb


What makes the enterprise of science so exciting is its promise of revelation. The real structures of Nature’s emergence, enticingly hidden just beyond our unaided perception, can be exposed and thoroughly known with the aiding light of proper inquiry and measure! So long as our “notions and axioms be derived from things by a more sure and guarded way,” as says Bacon, we may “penetrate into the inner and further recesses of nature.” We may reasonably expect to come to ever perfected, objective knowledge of what is the more we apply our scientific principles to the world around us. And with such knowledge, the human spirit may find culmination; becoming one in communion with its origins. But quantum physics, especially at the applied level of quantum mechanics, heralds a disruptive end to our naturalized covenant with physical ontology. Where once stood definite, non-contradicting properties now stand postulates of probability. Physical systems are no longer beholden strict causality, and we are no longer beholden strict reality as we measure. Schrodinger’s equations reflect this Fallenness, as his implementation of the wave function seeks to account for the totality of any given physical system necessarily composed of multiple possible values. While useful in making predictions, the assumed wave function reflects not reality as it is, but rather an anticlimactic approximation built upon mere models; leaving the human spirit wanting for substantive realization. In response, I believe we ought to follow Husserl’s call back to “things themselves,” and reevaluate the reality of Schrodinger’s wavefunction within the realm of phenomenological inner-time consciousness. From an Husserlian perspective, we not only gain a sense for the rich reality that quantum mechanics could provide us if it were phenomenologically constituted; we may also bring a sense of closure to some of the problems plaguing quantum theory from its very dawning. In steeping the context of Schrodinger’s equations in Husserl’s phenomenological inner-time consciousness, this paper will utilize Husserl’s concepts of simultaneity, eidetic essence, indexicality, embodiment, and the world horizon.

.   .   .





Keli B. QM Abstract











Copyright Keli Birchfield 2019


To the Almonds by my Bedside, the Only Ears for Miles; Roasted and Salted; Net Wt. 5 oz.

I somehow convinced myself that I could survive off music and essences, alone
And surely, was I ever wrong!
Food and water are essential to my appearance
Not mere forms and properties
And the Now can hardly sustain itself
Without the presence of something –
Nothingness, besides –
Love will reveal itself once my body heals from my own devices and delusions
Continuance forever more necessitates it

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Empathy and the Transcendental Self

Sit up straight
Wipe that smirk right off your face
This is a serious situation
Someone else is watching
You’re complete unto yourself
An end meant to stand
Alone and composed of absence
A machine
A blank slate with a blank stare

Yes ma’am, yes ma’am, yes ma’am
This house is well ordered
This meal well cooked
This wine well poured
Wisdom is thine beauty
Mine, mere formal attire
It suits me
It’s for my own good
From on high, I’ll be seen
No matter the direction
You may inspect
My whole person
With no service charge or fee

And leave me be
Leave me be
Leave me be

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Such is the Mind, that It Cleaves Itself

I awoke enfeebled; my mind so tastefully pleasing to a tick most engorged with the blood of my spirit that my imagination had all but run dry and barren. Its grounds cracked, trees slacked, fruits packed with lies of divine depletion, I found little left upon which my intellect could feast. Evil had found my Eden, my body of works weak and infected. But beyond this image lay my origins and from its wellspring of rations sprang a mirrored copy of my person, proportioned as a tick upon the tick which was draining me of my purpose. Doubly full of myself, my task is now that of transmuting my recollection. Sublime dreams bore out of excess cloud my skies with the promise of fresh life upon their breaking. Suspended, my secret gardens grow strong knowing they shall receive magic distilled of all disease; they shall blossom many worlds upon the complete collapse of the ticking time bomb threatening to implode my space-between, whilst I slumber. Its corpse shall be an empty sign for the return of demons in wait.

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Dearest Hermie

So often do loss and absence
Define our downbeats
That to measure any moment as significant
Is to say nothing at all
Is to allow memory to bring sense
To a head unable to wrap itself
Around time no more or less alive
Than the spirit which continues
As its name is written in honor
My loyal friend,
I’ll carry you always
In the deepest recesses of my heart
For all my days to come
You’ll always be my home


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