On recycling

(Or on the risk-mixinfinitum problem of metaphors and entropy with damping)

Life is or is not or it may be a can of let’s be healthy and say sparkling water and already this is unraveling: open the top and there’s carbonated liquid inside and gas escaping and the can remains a solid boundary for the liquid but the gaseous liquid is subject to complex dynamics and the bubbles are pretty fascinating describing their movement and flow and thinking of Perelman’s description of deformations of objects at singularities like beads of water or universes meeting making grown adults cry probably in the mind-enhancing revelations kind of way to prove a conjecture over a hundred years in the making but kind of the homology the pockets of gas in a fluid some of which adheres to the solid boundary the fluid I mean and the evident fact that water can bead or bounce, roll and pinch on a solid surface on various solid surfaces and liquids more generally on solid surfaces like rain and jet fuel and additive manufacturing and ideally not fracking because not all applications are good for the world learning and trying to choose the good ones and defining good is as useful or more than knowing of them and gas can bubble in water quite randomly and life can form in or on deep ocean vents the randomness of which is a question wars can’t answer but the probability of which is small enough to require the spacetime of a dynamic universe…but just drink it already this life-sustaining liquid who cares obviously not really that dismissively but overwhelmed (and thirsty) and it’s gone the fluid the can is still there unsurprisingly hopefully and it’s a pretty interesting shape (aren’t they all): how to replicate it or even just the shape with a different material or why it exists at all then just twist and crush it that’s humanly natural proving sort of time’s irreversible orientation in the evolution-of-a-volume-element-in-motion-through-fine-grain-phase-space entropic way (hardly) and human ego and more like proving the ability to manipulate real objects human-made or otherwise requiring an application of the aforementioned evolution concept in reality and the scale-invariance of the theory and the responsibility that implies and don’t cut a finger by the way and recycle and move on but the can though crushed and more like a nondescript thin aluminumostly object that quite recently served as the container of a liquid volume and don’t forget some carbonation and can be viewed as a covering surface of a semi-cylindrical-like space or mesh and the canny-like peel can it be called a can if it was once a can and no longer appears to be this is not our problem but it is and that’s fine



Lists 2 (Big Books 2)

Why read novels? They aren’t real right? Well, what is real anyways. Understand the brain: processing experience, sensory perception, instant-to-instant existence by reducing the infinite complexity of the world into workable representations, mapping the world around us to something inside our head, preserving certain structure, but compacting and compressing an overwhelming amount of information into a finite (living) object. The mapping is an abstraction, the world outside and the brain itself have a physical reality. Novels are representations of human experience across the world over time gifted from others to build the perception category. Novels are real objects to help explore inside then outside the mind, where people are waiting to share knowledge.


Giant Gems (or books to add depth to reading repertoire with subtitles hooray):

  1. A Naked Singularity by Sergio de la Pava
    (or Law & Lacerations)
  2. Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon
    (or On the Existence of Lines)
  3. Women and Men by Joseph McElroy by Joseph McElroy (or A Quantum Chaos Theory of Human Dynamics)
  4. Middlemarch by George Eliot
    (or the OG Women and Men by Mary Ann Evans)
  5. Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson
    (or Enter the Vietvoid)
  6. Underworld by Don Delillo
    (or Encounters at the End of the Landfill)
  7. Miss MacIntosh, My Darling by Marguerite Young (or The Real Magic School Bus)
  8. The Making of Americans by Gertrude Stein (or Class Futility)
  9. The Sleepwalkers by Hermann Broch (or La Notte by Michelangelo Antonioni)
  10. Belladonna by Daša Drndić (or EEG by Daša Drndić a duality not a subtitle)

Don’t get lost,


  • On Weddings (or Life 4, or Two Strings Become OneString)


    Disclaimer: I’m not against weddings…(disclaimer 2Bcont’d)

    (Irish Seinfeld): Wha’tis the deal with weddings these days? It’s like, let’s officially begin our lives t’gether b(u)y spendin’ a year(‘s salary) plannin’ a family reunity twoice ohver (as if gatherin’ one family’s baggage into a single room izzint e-nuff ‘ta gift, plus if we’re talkin’ about travelin’ then we have baggage on baggage on baggage) Continue reading

    Words 2 (or Colors 1)


    Effect (cause) to You,

    blue might mean
    everything you ever Knew,
    to be of that color.
    what do I know?
    Tell me, world:
    Is my blue your blue?
    Then you do,
    tell me, that is:
    “My blue is my blue,
    Your blue is your blue.
    There is some overlap, and
    Let’s leave loss of meaning out
    And not make people bored with blue;
    Bluebitty blue blue beautiful hue too”
    “fuck you, world.
    I love you.”
    The word is blue, the world is blue
    But words and worlds are representations,
     (Ordered permutations of letters with:
     a rule here,
     a rule there;
    Arbitrarily assigned, defined
    using other…Sounds…)
    Blue is a word.
    Blue is a world.
    Here we might mention the association with mood and music:
    I’m blue
    Not that music.
    I thought only cows mood.
    Blue cows, mood bad;
    There must not be enough…
    What is blue?
    What is you?
    “Arbitrary de(-scription,
    Who are you? (Hoo, hoo…)
    Who is blue?
    “Bad answers come from(?):
    bad questions.”
    Why are you blue?
    Why are you you?
    “Now we are making progress,
    It’s a process.”
    Why are you?
    Why is blue?
    Evo-(b)lu(e)-tion, baby.
    it’s intuitive to the human brain,
    invoking the action of eyes ‘seeing’ as their sense
    (Lens focuses light towards retina,
     where photoreceptors are so excited to find their photon friends in their correct color cones, and instantly send the sensational news through neural networks as an electrical signal for processing and imaging)
    (permutations of photon particles doing the wave, so-to-speak, and if blue then on the short end but visible, moving at the speed of, well, light, or say c)
    “You like this word: permutations…”
    Math is ART(hur Cayley):
    Every group is isomorphic to a subgroup of its symmetric group.
    Worlds and words and worlds of words.
    Why do we see (c)?
    “How much time do we have?”
    What is time?
    “Not again…”
    Ah, why is time?
    “Flow, change, progress…”
    Oh, my.
     what might 1c, optimistically?:
    Looking up at the sky,
    Why, it’s blue! Why is it blue?
    (Why, always why with you…)
    A scattering comes across the sky…
    Note same scattering in a blue eye.
    And if the sky is blue that day,
    If pollution isn’t in the way,
    There’s no blue like the ocean.
    Blue on blue, blue in blue, blue of blue
    Meeting at the horizon.
    You’re makin’ my dreams come blue
    Or if the day chooses to be gray,
    not content with fractal boarders providing limfinite complexity,
    overlap to darken the sky,
    raining on our blue parade.
    On those gray daze,
    blue is a collar,
     fuck color:
    blue is the name of the train line some sorry sucka takes to work every morning,
    and, (worse?), the converse
    (from work, to some (un)affordable apartment, nothing like a home…
    Nothing like Home)
    Or the color of the tie seen on a ley line down the boss’ beer belly.
    The blues.
    Same as it ever was.
    At this not-home,
    To partners in misery,
    Or to misery’s offspring,
    blue might be a bruise:
    Alcohol’s common collateral damage.
    At its worst, blue is the glint of cold steel flashed before entry into a belly:
     Or blue smoke from a barrel
    Real and rising,
    Up, up, into that bluest sky…
    (Don’t look down:
    there, in the outpouring blood:
    a tinge of what?)
    At its best blue is the beginning of life, home can be up high if we
    Stay grounded
    Cause (effect) to
    Blue is