Friday, September 25, 2009

Global Irreversible Stability of the Cyclic Mulriverse

As in last poem Distar XII I raise the issue of the multiverse models as instabilities of the hyperbolic designs and all the issues of personal and social contentedness from each of our private views in terms of a wider grasp of the idea of anthropocentric. What can that mean in such a world of layers and layers of the non-linear. It seems that these intermediate ideas of cosmology, something as if the WMAP hints at more than what we imagine from it at the moment, before we understand the geometry of the quasic spaces.

But what is this model after all that seems to explain with a deeper ground our theories of self and love (even in our idea of some global being or insistence on such a certainity of scientific laws?) A theory, moreover that has a logical and deductive no vague missing link in the reasoning?

Yet, all of this has to be even more fundamental in our idea of the applied maths including those ideas of the Bayesian in statistics and what exponentiation is there to handled large samples and so on... It involves a more general concept of initial conditions and the nature of what can be effeciently put down as real in the vacuum of our memory and so recover again.

It involves the question, an entropic one also, of the zero vector in some field- for it is clear that is where the equations break down at singularity, infinite solutions and so on. There is resistivity rather than a creative approach to things if we imagine the world so rigid as if the rigid rotations. For the truth is more a quasi-rigidity and adaptive one at that. We cannot simply say that something is conserved either by classical orbits or some sort of non-linear binomial exactness that is then just an approach to further accuracy and levels of what we vaguely might see from some linear view as layers of topological compactification or say inflation.

There is more than one way that distance can be preserved- or some form of energy conserved. Or some law of nature remains and invariant. We cannot simply say by analogy although in a quantum bit scenario we double the computing power per bit, that the volume or area of some space can be equal to the determinant. In an n-volume the fact of the unity of such a cube is not just trivially the unit volume. Nor can we base things on some resolution wherein when we multiple certain values it applies equally in all degrees of freedom throughout the vector space.

Imagine then, the alpha dimensionless constant, beyond the ideas of pi or plus and minus one if we declare one thing the infinite cycles and the harmonics, heat transfer in the universe itself. The fine structure constant, square root derivative operator at 137th computation.

Clearly we cannot regard the COBE model as anything but one of some developing design of small variations on all the possible dimensions and times, There are worlds such as that background and all present potentially at a distance from what we may think of as our dimensionless constant values (again the Eddington model of the Uranoid is here to be generalized as a form of quasic space) What imagine we see is a string no longer a singular point of origin and thus compactified upon this something not lnear, even beyond four way dialectics.
But in this microscopic like the collider there are different powers of resolution, as different as the mickeys of particle generations as we click on the mouse to find the illusion of touching things at a distance.

I had not anticipated these intermediate cosmologies before we find the power of the wider quasic view and get a handle on what we need to understand about experimental verification.
The endless cyclic universe, also with the problems left of inflation models, must resolve the idea of the constrained but limited cyclic multiverse before we can apply the wisdom of string and brane theories of our so called complete matrix of our dimensions.

I in general called these sorts of ideas the Ultranscontinuum back in 65.

* * *
Quasi-nonlinearity (email to galatomic)

Friend, These are interesting thoughts- and my was not meant to make things clear to anyone but myself. Perhaps it is time. I found some interesting articles on a blog I follow called the reference frame which I thought you would also find interesting.

"Think of it this way in more vivid terms. If space is a warped fabric in Euclidean space then Euclidean geometry will tell us the time and distance between points in the non-Euclidean fabric (yes even light takes the non-Euclidean path) if we created a “wormhole” in the non-Euclidean fabric. But if space is fundamentally non-Euclidean then there is no Euclidean shortcut and one would be irrational to look for it.

In conclusion, if there is no physical fabric to space then we are forced to consider it non-Euclidean and Kant’s critics are correct, GR trumps QM and quantum gravity is a search for fool’s gold. If there is a physical fabric to space then to equate the “fabric” with any featureless geometry is a mistake in thinking and will produce a dead end in physics."
from the philosophychatforum

The last post was interrupted son came from Minneapolis to the coffee shop. so:

I have had some rather profound and fundamental thoughts lately especially concerning the issues your raised in the quotation. But from a more Leibnizean viewpoint. I call it the quasi-nonlinear qs-ln viewpoint. I have also thought a lot about the underlying views you have and they have withstood the recent speculations of the intermediate physics before some possible greater unification.

In particular the universes as on the reference frame blog last week, where the idea of a minimum string does not, as said on the forum, reach the planck distance but could be different from it and that would play havoc with inflation ideas where mini black holes are concerned.

I do not think we ultimately disagree on much and I see where the reductionist are in possible error- their concept of space is too rigid even if it is based on probability alone.

Anyway, I will try to post some of this on the blog- but the cold truth is that you are the one most worth talking too about these things. It is just too hard for us to put it into some form the others understand, mainly because they do not grasp the deeper general concepts which of course can lead to some rather strange and unsolved questions of what makes up our reality or what is pseudo science.

rrushius btw sent me an email wondering where I was- and said he left the forum due to the manner he was treated by Lincoln and others.

Sure there is a quasi-certainty in the three body problem (and in some cases it is still a big problem despite very accurate reductionist resolution by computation making it a trivial problem)- but it is this very quasi-uncertainty making it a nonlinear problem that is the source of these unified yet stages of a cosmic system that for example explains the why of particle generations- to that extent it is a matter so far of geometry. And it is also a way to relate our personal center to it all wherever that may be.

I did not know you were that age- and with accumulated wisdom I imagine- but that is a scarry age for me as my dad passed on at 73. It makes it all the more urgent that we somehow work out some of these issues in order to help things along- but for me I am v ery much satisfied I see most of the picture before I move on or vanish.

At least in the long run our core ideas have won!

* * *

Continued on the blog:

*The obvious question to ask is what happens when we quasicly map the terrain of the WMAP background to say three layers of quasication. We not only get three generations of the topology- something that can be seen on one global eigenstate as Euclidean but in a sense the three states (akin to the distinction of multiple integration vs partial integration unto the dimensions)are as if three generations of which between them some effects like gravity and mass can have certain values which of course can be the invariant yet expanding dimensionless constants or the averaging from some nonlinear indefinite origin or entropy of spatial regions of which things are averaged out as if an overall unity of things as quasi-stable.

From a metaphysical viewpoint some of the ideas where consciousness arises as a phenomenon, or the breaking of symmetry from one view being really the here and now separation of these onion like layers in to say something abstractly like an independent field such as electromagnetism- explains certain ideas of what we consider a partially restrained anthropocentrism (an idea which to me seems not a valid one if we insist on the global monolithic unity of space rather than this division into quasi-indempotency and maybe Bayslean effects of probability- certainly the idea of doubling and halving as far as our relation to the expression of such fundamental constants including if we temporally exclude the zero and negative axis in the local idea of looping in time.

We have cultural forerunners of such ideas for example in the multiverse time travel questions as to what is coincidence or extraordinary as to what paranormal phenomena require belief in it that it works, or disbelief that it becomes a reductionist reality or limited monolithic fact excluding such phenomena.

In a sense, although quasicity is but a third part of physics the unity of all of them which I call the phoenix for now or general stereonomic phaneron, would have on the periphery that quasication in effect quantizes and averages these mathematically corresponding continuous fields of what we relatively view of fixed distances.

The cosmic background (free really from scales even those infinite) contains in a sense all of a few quantized solutions to what may be viewed of all of reality at some quasic state of resolution. Quasic Generational Distance QGD is thus the origin of shadows of symmetry of what is mass and what is gravity (which is a mysterious force seemingly compared with the others) and geometry wise can be interpreted as the issues of dark matter-energy over say the tri-background as if nine Euclidean dimensions into the three reduced standard ones of a constant (zh symbol preferably in Russian)and so on unto what string state of quasicity in definition (that is the background views all possible string theories and variations)

What for example is 270 compared with 137 where we simply regard the arithmetic of group logics in relation to the structure and weight of particles? Certainly frequency by itself and a structure based on it cannot explain all the phenomena involved if we apply it to the total understanding of what we think we know in detail of the physics of the universe even if we know it is limited and everything even if we do not know what it is (Hawking).

Of course these quasic idea apply to our sense of identity, levels of genome like reading, cancer, different states of our physical transformation biochemistry, and to a great extent our experience of identity and knowing in this world as minds.

It is not enough to say some physics (or for that matter metaphysics) friend galatomic, is a dead end before we find the more general and logically reasonable view that such mathematics can apply but in a surprising complex way. Moreover, it is clear to me that these very ideas will boost what claims to you make to independent entities of volition and consciousness (ecotoms) as it guarantees their structure and existence. It is simply not clear that in a quasi-nonlinear world that we can know nothing of things that reduce to zero point euclidean space.

Now it may not be that we know everything after all on this higher paradigm level but we know that we do not know it (that some things exist as a possibility not to dismiss lightly) but when we see the envelop and nonlocality of space and time which we call the cosmic and to each of us unique background, each from his view ahead and worth a little more locally than another, we find it more than just our present crude ideas of what makes our best accessible universal totality.

* * *
The Smooth Transition of Dimensional States of the Phaneron:

I would be more surprised if nature did insist on only one generation of particles. Certainly the aesthetic sense of rightness of theoretical physics- really an ability to grasp and apply the abstract concepts of mathematics, at least as a formal system - can apply to other cognitive properties, for example the idea of not one or many gods but an oeconomics or idea of a three in one Trinity resonates with general spatetime structural possibilities. But this is not to assert the primacy of that theological concept, necessarily. It is subtle really, "One small step for 'a' man or for 'man' and one great leap for mankind." is an example of a fortunate slip of an ambiguous phrase that conveys such physical and theoretical subtitles.

So, in the phaneron background we can approach the idea of a flatland that can be viewed or can physically seem to become a wider space of dimensions (thus of the energy of gravity and matter in relation and the quantization by quasic space of the identities views from one physical or conscious and sell aware and reflecting identity. It we take these ideas of dimensions to the limits of many in one structure in most cases we get the symmetries, the bilateral ones of the humanoid form as a smashed down version of what could be seen as a wide dimensionless space.

Until such physics concepts are discussed and dealt with, expanded upon, we cannot really begin to define the next set of problems more than as we vaguely do for our current problems of quantum gravity and physics unification if any- My best guess at the moment is there are problems of uniqueness and identity to be resolved- especially in control of time and evolution on the horizon.

How we define something with reference to itself as a logical system that cannot exceed itself- if such a thing is not richer than itself and thus paradoxically hierachical- the Godel like metalanguage concepts- may be irrevelant once we see that in a three way quasic system as a totality a consciousness may be self aware unto the complexity of its logics as self contained. At least to the next level.

* * *

To peer morevover into the forward dimension (see Pinker on 2.5 dimension forward perception and our ability to orient things in three space) in view of the above we certainly can see at the horizon of furthest extent a question of multidimensions with ambiguous content- that is we color what we see or not see from our preconceived biases one way or the other as if we sculpt the faces on the moon or mars as a result of craters on any scale. It is a survival thing evolved to discerrn if possible things in the wild where we seek the truth of structure of so many dimensions or objects in camouflage. But there has to be a more solid case despite our perceptions (save where it may be a matter of belief as truth that can be changed beyond the usual powers and influences of observation (or negotiating the observation multiple spaces). We orient in multi-space greater than three and in doing so take advantage of the conservation and invariance and truth independence of what we see- that is, the GR aspect predominates but in any case it is the usual rotations in hyperbolic frames and spaces- at lest in the four space case and thus at the remote place of perception and imagination we have quasi-instability.

* * *

In this segment of the blog I will discuss the archetype which I have represented as a four winged bird (of time and so on in the count of dimensions). I put up the image from Science Daily on a link to the development of flight at: so see there for related articles such as the analogy to the development as if biplanes to monoplanes and so on. In this segment I will try to get across the idea of this four-fold aspect of nature as a matter of viewpoint and double dialectic geometrical relationships- such as hemoglobin of two alpha and two encased beta configuration around Fe (Iron).

I may include the cultural war as expressed in the blogosphere that has an analogy to the Wittgenstein-Popper debates as to a philosophy of science and the relation to Logical Positivism. This is a two edged sword for those who take one side or the other and try to impose what is intelligible upon the other side. It is also a question of thermodynamics, especially the varieties of the zeroth laws of equilibrium (on some level of how we relate to induction and probability). It also relates to Sylvia Plath "some of us are not important enough to justify having a psychiatrist..." The idea here is Wittgenstein reminds us of what the nature of words are as if the events of early childhood do not naturally progress to a world where we can develop reason (well verification) {a lot of cultural crapola came out of Vienna regardless of if it were against the left or right as we can point the finger of innocence or immaturity from one or the other view- more of a sociology and precursor to the control of the media by some group for some agenda or propaganda as in trying to make sense of the current USA political and culture war.]

I developed in the course of the few years I posted on philosophychatforum and sciencechatforum from the beginnings as if developing science from the ground up but the rearrangement and exclusion left this continuity of presentation (but in a way it hardly matters as a serious forum in my eyes anymore) and then I try to go beyond the existing achievement of learning. This unity of work then is reduced to a babble and in a way which not even Robert E. Lee would allow rather than surrender for the Southern cause- no guerrilla troops in the separate states- this sort warfare is an ongoing terrorism which would not allow the nation to heal sooner- said Lee. Which side of history and political correctness is one on? Surely it is this issue of ultimate respect for the continuity of things- not just the mentality of those who immerse themselves in video games and drive by masked insults on the net and who think they are in the right and know but become more and more aggressive to the determent of the content and not the petty and soon obsolete state of the technology as if it is the religiously justified view of their science.

It is no wonder that given the current state of the economy that the role of the universities is being reevaluated as to what they teach in relation to the community.

What is the character of the United States? (A term used by our current president) What is the responsibility of the media which can have such polarization of what is obviously philosophical and political issues and not the human content of our creativity. Maybe a beautiful mind does rate a psychiatrist but more likely one should do the least damage to such a mind with crude methods- if indeed that mind is beautiful considering the product and consequences that resulted form the mentally ill. A theory that is a weapon for wounds in the trenches and struggle is no way to falsify or even verify what is science and what is not. What is oxygen is really carbon monoxide in the rigidity of thought or claims of its unintelligibly (save perhaps for Russel's assessment to a point as logic). Common sense can have its value and God Bless the United States as an idea not as obsolete as some would have us think- long live the model of freedom of a Lockean community as a logical part at least of the models that tend to social well being and certainty where power, especially superpowers evolve and arise. Forget not Gibran nor treat him as a childish mystic and useless philosopher for we all can benefit from his poetic view and insight to the human condition in this brave new world of struggle and concrete and yes our sense of love despite Wittgenstein coming in the back door of our issues of what is man and what is machine and so on.

For that still in the cache or those with copies of the time and those who made sense of the continuity of my work or relished the jewels in the style of it I am glad we saw this far and saw the beauty of science as it can be and will become.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Friday, September 18, 2009

The Purple Foxglove

The Purple Foxglove

Here I am toying with the idea of posting thoughts. perhaps a novel, from my childhood in this time frame on the head stone. As with the poetry blog booklet called DISTAR one can expect the post to be revised with new material.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Quasic Potential Proximity Principle



"now back from the distraction at a distance to the stars- I must be doomed to have to deal with unstable people- bless them."

The illustrations above is a combination of the square of golden rectangles and rectangle of golden squares (alternatively this plane or grid, phaneron and quasiphaneron vaguely hints of the zen garden of windows in the brick wall across the alleyway, hence the space and time and preserved distance between the observer and that observed, the lights and privacy of stars and Jen at her shower as the encounter at a distance evolves from peek-a-boo to playing doctor, each of us a universal center of invention, original ordering of the hidden and overt grounding and stability potentially in the planes of flexibility and rigidity, in physical nature and in the realm of desire.

* * *

Which grid, the quasic or complex plane, if we change the labeled stable centers of things around, is not the grounding but violates the idea of distances?

Such physics is not just about conversion of angles, momenta, vectors, phase or configuration views of space; nor the continuous or discontinuous shifts assumed to be the logical zero points between rectilinear Cartesian or complex number space.

In general the quasic ordering from some zero consecutively may initiate at any place. What is epsilon delta stable and located in the phaneron so to an analog which is dialectic to it in the quasiphaneron. Perhaps a key to dark energy or ideas of gravity and an application of algebra to the twists of elusive gravity.

In this sense the square root of two may behave as if rational (surreal calculus?)

In this sense also it is not just a fractal idea of space and dimention into some sort of Cantor dust.

The quasized phaneron has its own reality and formulas can be found to express the effects of such energy be it one of physics or one of that felt subjective.'

Thus this model suggests the reason for partial holonic and meditative theories, the idea of a near shadow world or multiworlds, super symmetry. An ongoing ontologic balance then of the stable general fields of reality and return to clarity of understanding of the subjective splits and intergration over time of mind and brain growth and event horizons located in the indefinite twistor place of self observation and discernment of our total psychological states.

Man, body and mind and perhaps spirit is a quasic substance in its overall unity where cognitive generalization can adjust and override chemical reductionism.

How much can come from such a simply stated fundamental logical principle! How much can the rigidity of our thinking tie up the progress of science if we hold it dogma!

* * *

In this informal presentation of an abstract concept and its consequences (these ideas unfortunately did not map yet into the Distar poem series so I wrote it as raw philosophy- it may be incorporated there later as a theme to the booklet) I would like to add that the distance in question in a square is of course the square root of two, and structurally the representation of a tetrahedral like object would of course smash or fall into a two space plane. Now, from the four and three space perspective the essential distance is phi or tau structurally -surely these are contiguous spaces that influence the configuration of discrete stable structures such as atoms and so on. In fact we can apply the group ideas of rigid and simplex space structures to relate these irrational numbers in useful formulas- it may be that the general idea of mass itself and explanation of gravity can have such dimensional and quasidimensional measure. Twistor idea for example is a shift through the e mu and tau states of quasic order of the three particle generations which as with the vectors and scalars three and one tend to organize our extension of space. Now in the phaneron as a potential quasic field we clearly have a correspondence accross the aleph of the n-dimensional plane with variations within that plane implied- that is we are looking into the internal structure of this notion of vectors as numbers in itself. Some amount of orientation and directionality is discrete and bounded and determined by these stereonomic principles as well as the usual abstract insight of calculus or abstract algebra where they are discovered rather than designed or deduced to be related.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Distar (to be at a distance from, Spanish infinitive)

L. Edgar Otto Sept. 8, 2009 6:00 am

Your eyes fixed on the porthole
the scene, the light, still, forever
The ship and all else but your dream
invisible, intangible
Your indefinite but centered self
bounded at the cusp of space and time
Where the sea grows calmer unto stillness
gravity greater, your chance choices
Fixed where you will cement your roots

What picture would you choose
from all the world while you still dream?
Dreaming, reach dream's end or give to
the light its motion and desires, reaching out?
The stars, I once thought, now Jen at her shower.

* * *

You did not come back, Old School
at least I cannot see you, our wishes failing us
We, father and son made a pact to bring
back news from the after-world

You came back from the Coral Sea
or I would not be here and free
Your skin, scarred gives testimony
oil slicks on fire and wasps that burn
Fixed black and white on the silver film of my
childhood memories when bid me bring you Lifebuoy soap.

The reverse of my lifelong symbol, coat of arms not just a monogram,
artifact, eclipse and cross of lines and telegraph poles
But a salty tattoo, I, in your uniform and sailor's cap
on the cover of Life Magazine giving Jen a Hollywood kiss coming home.

* * *

The Oakland Bay Bridge
L. Edgar Otto Sept. 8, 2009 6:00 am

Lately, glued to the monitor, avoiding scams and the ladies
I have walked the debris and dust of Mars
Sampled the geology at a crater's rim
renewed my vision by a passing dust devil

I walked in the street view Google map
of the Oakland to San Francisco Bay bridge
I gazed up at it so high above me, so
solid yet its potential hint of fall

Those highways, arteries, and nerves are not fully grown yet
Pe Sla, Old Baldy, vanished nova, at the center of the Bad Lands
The landscape, houses, bars, being everywhere seem nowhere

Reynold's Prairie bigger than I thought or it has expanded distant like once
I could feel you cut yourself, know whats superficial, such bridges may not last

* * *

More than Artificial Flowers and Moons

L. Edgar Otto 09-09-09

We must cross the event horizon sometime
your and my dreams of eternal falling
Each smaller chasing the other in fits and starts
canceling out initial conditions, love unstable, uncertain
To one ideal point and one uncountably infinite ideal

So we persist even far from touch and sight, orbit somewhere
continuity and sound mystery then the stuff of consciousness
We keep time remote or hard by, constant, invariant, commensurable
Dare we as blind as any watchmaker as double blind scientist
take apart our clocks of clay

No matter if we ask in depth and when where begins the day?
I carefully disassembled the jewels and gears and springs
Lay them out in order a fancying youth that I could put all back together
doing no harm asking why our love needed healing

* * *

I want to be sucked into your vortex
until our see-saw of gravity evaporates, my hair standing on end,
Troubled dreams, our love transcends without need for sleep
until we grow cross eyed in our double slit experiments
Our galaxies passing through consuming, sculpting each other

With no shear barriers between us, your nightgown
cool blue ultraviolet heat death blown up by the aether wind
Godel mystical your presenting to me in angles of time travel
as poles reverse and spin, birds and bees confused
Lost from home vibrating to your cell phone

That my soul and our love goes blind - so be it
deep and sweet that price to pay to reach you
More precious than the stars and yet unique, one soul (yaan jinn)
Our rocket engines push better than pull while love's space age dawn begins

* * *

Celestial Rock Garden, Wall with Windows

The sun and fixed stars seem to move and
without doubt the comets and planets, n-body problems
You at times my Venus the brightest of
my morning and evening solitary stars
Your window lights twinkle, candle flame dance on and off
with your day and night shifts, I do not know if you dress the role or
Work in scrubs, have coffee sharing breakfast with me
out of the corner of your eye at a distance, I now part of your lunar cycle

You leave your bedroom curtains cracked, gentle firm, free and rigid
that last light before midnight or work-a-day obscures sight, I blow you a kiss unsure
if it is seen, Bravo! Encore for tomorrow! We who crave the light
must stand unmasked and naked, our windows the star plume clouds hiding in your twinkle toes
Time changing places with the marquis sparks finds distance preserve

* * *

Onion Domes L. Edgar Otto 9-10-09

Short of Heaven nature can explain
the supernatural away and
Myth we assert has its own
inviolate claims of reason

There are ghosts and worlds parallel, a hall of mirrors
things contiguous, overlapping relatively
That chance too dwells at the cusp of disconnections and inference
beyond the continuity at every place. or beyond some nothingness

So too the clarity of physics remains assertions
of uncertainty of evidence within the Circle
That great full circle of souls at extraordinary horizons
where our shadows remain awhile then well move on through wells

Into unknowns, mansions or vanishing, Love's and God's
Tormenting voices morally persisting, onion domes evaporating.

* * *

Our sparks and effort, rope of light, lifebuoy, helping hand
so exhausting in its amazing surviving and height of our golden day
That you withdraw into your cave and nest for long sleep
even your dreams but echoes of our radio's narrow bandwidth

Did we stand ashamed come Labor Day?
candles burning or gone out tell nothing of your windows
I only see my earth shine, crescent eaten, reflected in
a shiny onion dome, my watch too fatigued to gaze forever

There is not even a glimpse of you in the rooms you haunt
no face on Mars of hallucinations or colors
Skin tones confused with pillows and blankets, head rests on top of the
front seats of your parked and rusting car, we there frozen crash dummies

Yet I know our ecliptic returns another time deep into replete Sagittarius
To dissolve again in fishy Pieces - man, part beast with desire, time arrows

* * *

We tied together beyond voices in the carrier wave
Harmonics that disturbs the first light's isotropy

* * *

I Sorrow that I Finally Felt Anger at You and the Straw Men

L. Edgar Otto (evoked by my own event of 911)

1. he

Is my empty specter in your bedroom
serial polygamy, circle of musical chairs and lovers
Need I be the enemy although you do not know me
that your bonds be real, my unspoken name your ritual fetish?

2. she

Forgiveness is too big a word to hide the guilt,
deny the civility of pardons, purify the world and hearts.
Did you learn nothing of feminility, stages of life, contrived major
where is your hero, paying rent, the poverty of fighting windmills for you?
The distance and silence between us you placed there is only in yourself

3. them

I praise your new sister as if my own which he will never hold
not a stranger to send shoe boxes of candy to starving Guatemalans
Nor Somalians driving taxis in the Twins, they not the pirates
I would trade up my clunker, but electric cars go neither fast nor far.

* * *

4. I and they

Such things lack dignity in the saying yet all are aware and think on them
there is no how-to book of raising children, of love
I have already served the plea bargain reduced lie of verbal abuse
marriage should suffer to protect them as well as woman
Take your prison with you, repeat mistakes, feed your parasites\

5. you

If you truly loved the Lord you'd understand His commandments
or of love not stand before a judge and choose the sword for them, divide
I forbade them not your company that they be whole though I have loss
if you truly love and are happy, hatred lonely also, you'd pardon my words
For it was a long road of chutes and ladders to feel, see both love and harm again

6. Him

The personal and distant God is one, not some lack or placebo of prosperity
that your heart goes unredeemed, forever wrong- sins of the father, the return to
Job his life but not his lights original - in the explosion of infant brains or their distant
world of implosions more who knows what the monkeys did to load the dice for us?

* * *

Distar V: Weather and the Weathermen L. Edgar Otto 09-12-09

At the brain stem the tenuous maps of intellect
the working out of the weather of the world and in dreams

We divide the long sub-sandwich of history as if a pie
claim for hidden reasons the truth of forecasts, all newsmen are weathermen

The music more like debris in droughts and hurricanes
the resurrection of the dead that takes long recovering nostalgia that love lives again

Are our fears real save they only the reality of fear
something we've not learned yet, some aware in the know and need to know?

Along the littoral the calm we call the seas where life is
as much as its arises, it and the sea-lings breathe, acceptance, healing, surprises

I discern your sky now with ease, we insured outside
history's conflicts of jurisdiction, our safe overlapping space

The chess game played blind yet in clarity we drink each others moods
to love no is no harder a risk than living as we synchronize our heartbeats, distant Jen.

* * *

We moonwalk in retrograde, the weight of truth upon leaving the murky water
as conspiracies deny his martyred final greater glory, St. Michael Morning Star

We internalized between the black and white, the state and stately Jupiter itself a
star ship of prophets, scoundrels, and entertainers christened with pearls into, against the night

Love's cathedral, tea clipper or tramp seaman, bells and hourglass hand wrought and
turned awhile cradled passion's nest where even the gods must sleep

Modeled in its own cusp of time and scale, its trials and tests of its prophesys where
we present the import of our own history, proclaim destiny, justified to share our union, fill the earth

My buoy and inlets give rest for your restless gull as you go around my landscape to peek.
My lighthouse finds you and only you by its spinning endless reaching rays

That love hopefully takes flight again, eternal, enduring, everlasting and
I am also your ocean for your lonely desert island

I long to explore all that sea as
much as you need my compass points

* * *

The Concrete Universe

Water the universal solvent goes deep
Inside the stacked rock crystal cannonballs
Makes things stronger, layers infinite chains
Give and take the triangle pockets

The adaptable universe on which we build
Our towers of babel and concrete jungles
Hold back the rising sea - our efficient
Thoughts between us is like that living rock

What makes water wetter as the earth persists
Even on the nothingness we have something to stand on?
So too a metallic god could design nano- organic things
Membranes and dancing tissue, slippery frictions

Love then the most solid and enduring thing, metastable creations
Probing your heart a thousand times more afire than my blown kiss flirtations.

* * *

Coming Home to Primrose 09-12-09 (11:30 pm)

The sphere of time is like unto the rain, falling,
for near the origin rays never meet

All dimensions flatten into a plane, one direction, numberless potential infinity
unexplained turns and onward movement, no piercing hail, no dust shaken by the wind

But Jen in her shower, not shaven for her stitches
nor rinsing her wig and swinging it to rockstar puppy dry, her glory

Rinse, take away all that betrays us, consumes us from
within and imprisons us from without, on epicycles she reflects time light

Why must the source be the sink for mortal things in parallel?
Why the staircase, attics, basements, downward spirals?

She the surface depth and contour globe and hourglass frozen
before her mirror while always a fluttering butterfly.

My soul now dwells a level down, no coming home to Primrose, my fall begins
awakenings as I try to love that child soul as much I try to touch and know her

* * *

Astronomy, the dwelling through the terrain, flight and dance of orbits
not just the spiral discs of stars leaving, returning to the

Mosh Pit, irregularities, non-linear states consuming each other,
nor that they pop out and unfold, multiply, as I thought up from the nothingness

As within them so without and I below gaze up at the bridge in admiration
yet distant from the belt of her milky way arched on all fours, she my rainbow

* * *

In our Yeats husk, mask, lunar hour I no more can love her too soon, than like
St. Augustine, love her wisdom too late

* * *

Passion Penny

L. Edgar Otto 09-14-09

When I fell for you I fell like a stone from the blue
and you made your wish on me while I tumbled down your wishing well
falling free

Passion Penny I don't want any more of you
passion came late for me it couldn't wait for me to make it right
right for you, right by you

Ponies on the roundabout sent you to distant dreams you said your horse
was Nod and asked the name of mine I said of course he's Shadowfax and
could I kiss you, you said you thought I wanted to and did not mind.

We walked on the Grand Strand
He walked on water, sunk in the sand
You flew through fire, crashed in snow filled air
He promised you'd find sunshine in pearls
placing them in your hand

The Old Band Organ's metallic themes and steam
held you fixed inside is dream
The Laughing Farmer for no reason
could not sow or reap, plant in season

The prancing ponies wished godspeed their reins made dreadful braids
I am and old hand at this, would you like a taste? No I cried as
the carousel spun with it your wishing space

The Farmer's wife with whiskey pints kept the harmony above
the Tunnel of Love in high in her alcove where the
Two headed creatures in jars scared out of you
your secret you once a double star

I'll probably go out before you, you spry for an Old School
anyway there's always Viagra, should I give it up to you?
Look, I would ware you out but you mixed up the needle tips

And you were trips and speeding, my heart was bleeding
once free our base of love cotton candy sea foam taffy
Godspeed I said and knew you'd not come home to me

Passion Penny I can't take any more of you
I wrong to say I'd be strong enough for anything you do
Passion too late getting through it daffy where it wouldn't let us
make things right for you.

* * *

Membranes and Memorials

I can only see so far into the gardens
walk around the sacred places of the quad
Where old Davy Crockett put out shoots from gnarly roots
and the copper plaid scoundrel sat enthroned, his gun and rods
The argyle socks, a child's forever new they sent beyond with you and
into my long life of rest, my bleeding nails in dreams
That cannot escape my satin pillows. pine box walls.

The peaceful winding roads, obelisks and slabs, memories
fill up the city with its plots and plats buried stacked forever
We wild animals on the shrinking periphery of dangers
unaware and beg for their gifts of food and hosts not fear the dead
The heart of gatherings in the Badlands expands and
goes further from our sight along with it the night
Where none dares desecrate the marble Sacred Heart, count the fading flags

* * *

This very place of the highway, the homestead reached around about
more by dead ends, one way streets, than loopy cul-de-sac's or
Stop lights on the roundabouts I stepped out into the street
annoyed at the eternal mantra looked both ways anyway
I did not lie there broken back arched and writhing, life pulsing, gushing
not in this world anyway, the speeding mustang out of nowhere

The diesel train, tracks behind our house, the bell and light symphony,
engine that pushes, pulls both ways, smashes pennies
Like chocolate smudge drops, rail and creosote smell of rusting iron wheels

Voices whispering warnings,could not come near, possess me
nor hide behind the great Daemon himself a hollow shell
My guardian angels conspired both ways those dark and light in time to save me
You, Brother Buddy blue this is it somewhere your place and hour of exit
As slingshot for fun the songbirds fell, helped from from the winged heaven, depths of hell

* * *

The Hague Waters L. Edgar Otto 09-15-09

By the sea wall, safe harbor, tube worm sifting'
the oily mudflats scent of the tidewaters
I do not lean too far to watch the gudgeon
so hypnotic the microcosm of gentle rocking
So surprising the release, buildup of random claps and spray

I scrying through the scud at night watch the street
lamps break, rejoin, multiply- time's fun house mirror
We build bridges or open them over the roads
how flat and endless, not half full the wedded salty planes
Endless prairies Terra Firma, boundless ocean our own compass

There at the cusp, life disturbed into phosphors
the fish heads and crabbing net, ten footed star scavengers
That can't resist our blue crab afternoon turning devil red
as Scorpio arises on the horizon, twinkling rays converging to me

* * *

In the chowder and feast of cracking claws and care we watch
for bones as we pick the flesh of mullets, avoid the dead man
From the old church and Masonic signs, ivy covered benches
small bleached land snail shells, bones of natives and MacArthur
Father of poets returns again as we gaze through the sooty glass at eclispe

Of all the seven wonders of Nickelodeon, the Ferry before the tunnel,
street cars, Cancan ladies the sailors turning cranks in the penny arcade
The Hague stands out in my dreams near Pembroke
as I walk the streets of Ghent, row boats out through the creeks, estuary, measure time
By oyster hungry Venus moored there, the city my mind map, growing child's brain

The globe in the magic shop of masks, zodiac and heroes by day, points of light
by fluorescent night and I feeling all the stars rolled into a ball yet the green cheese moon
Hung from an endless rope, for awhile our playground, our purposeless dreams in safe harbor

* * *

Once falling overboard and saved I do not forget surprise, struggle with the
angry dark, the gales. I my grand father after fish or
My father in uniform. home or dispatched with the great gray ships
as light shimmers on the surface waters we imagine
Full of things we out wit in the bottomless depths

Old Judge Grigg walked those streets, gentle people a more gentle
time in Pembroke picking up stray marbles like worlds
Gave them to me, I risked and multiplied them in the shooter rings

Am I not them yet in the distance my own soul in time
Here and now. returned again my lucid eyes my child's also?

By that water at night my father showed me the Big Dipper
in trying to see the moon's stark, not prismatic colors I saw the
Bustled parasol ladies debark from the clipper in old Baltimore
"Will God be mad if I see and think things? "- "No, son. He would not
have given you a brain if He did not want you to use it."

* * *

Teresa sang on the radio as we brothers waited in the Chevy for
him to look for her in the Krazy Kat: "Put another nickle in the
nickle, nickelodeon. All I want is loving you and music, music, music..."

* * *

Your Clock Radio Wakes Me Weekday Mornings 09-16-09

Your shy eyes did not turn away with a glance
encounter but accidental dancing
The towel falls, a window for our doctorate
rather lingered down there, I engineer, that you
Must know I stood up on the chair as much as
you took so long to grease the pan, eat the eggs
I shirtless, your enhanced for your day of work

I to give back how it feels, transfixed to the irresistible view
let me see your equality and you mine, watch you watching
All others asleep- your blinds aimed a level up, mine a level down
shared access at least to the vague dream, love's obstacles, anticipation

I stand taller but hold back the high rise, remind myself to keep my gut tight
you last time letting yours hang out a bit beer belly relaxed ghost first trimester
I would not feel so stupid, brave if you would tickle, tease and laugh.

* * *

My roommate doesn't know, still struggles with the ancient upper story gods and demons
his drives and spirits maybe empty in stasis, his doctor wants to try new medications
Another shell, addressing the low rent and vacant condos of our minds
I wonder if his period of Whisper Doll paintings will change its style or end

Full of runes focusing in the water color planes, I miss my bath
while his paper soaks, clumps the salt in my shaker I named them Pomegranate,
Rockstar, Full Throttle, Citrus Lime, Blue Daemon, No Fear, Amp and Monster
energy drinks this increased dose of his shot cycles taking time to adjust before saturation

Or called then the trampled spit out chewing gum, ejected pizza on Water Street after bar close
even the Anti-Christ and troubled sleep- the cannot stop, long control love's laws and generations
a greater privacy of our seed and soul that our momenta, ghostly dollops danger to themselves
Or one sun god goes nova- I wonder what you eat, bird peck one by one

Before your bed and breakfast, your Honey Bunches of Oats
Our living light must sleep sometimes moon cursed, solar salt mines setting concrete

* * *

All there is of our love, its distance desert, greener or rained out yet wonderful as I
undulate synchronized with your moon rise over the window sill free and unmasked
Like the dissolving light, skin deep on the sleeping Hague waters finding ourselves again.

* * *

Minimum Distance and Duration L. Edgar Otto 09-16-09

The broken moral link, the soul in isolation
finite its center and all connections to other souls
That the whole itself is finite, stands and expands on false vacuum

The layers of caste persist and horizons are isolationist borders
for it is a false belief we own our existence, potential life and death,
To the state, a false unity that for want of that not known becomes fact

Perceptions and drive, lamination not perceived move through
each other invisibly, or build resistance, space and time molasses
Or refined crystallized, distilled that we add the flavors later

I reek of offensive odors and relished musk's after the
honeymoon of innocence, the equation neutral stands on itself
All is masculine position, feminine comfort, zero or infinity on top, faces in the moon

Yet the observer changes what he sees from his era and location
Even at the constant distance once set the chase changes she observed

* * *

Our rings and watchbands, wrist bands, arm bands, prophylactic, bangles
against the spirits or evoking good, vaporous fire walls against evil
Are but our myth of infinite view, loops of string by interpenetration, covalent dependence

We learn from our place and circumstance, crave fame in exhibition
despite the passing, publishing, enforcement and compliance to laws
In the game where4 we try to make sense, voyeurs changing ourselves

All strength appears lost and we accept it often irreversibly
no knowing in the end the definition empty of love taken beyond with us
Yet what is left after the potluck, derelict buildings, harsh window light, no people

The fairy ring exhausts the soil, lightning, crop circles, not striking twice
its truth a limit of its symmetries and heat, maximum diameter of energy
We missing the ship, coming close tragically failing love, left in the world evaporating forever

I know our dance was not in vain, love's gifts and sacrifice, action-reaction somewhere in
Depth and surface the same stories and directions, structural art's dimensions everlasting

* * *

Could Our Lives Have Been Otherwise?

A point can be seen unique and in that sense discrete
it does not know what dimension or differentiation it is in

The path over its existence wherein it can move in stillness
goes either way in time, all tangents around one excluded distant ray

That the separation of values natural or complex in jumps
may not be a legitimate operation now accepted dogma

What cannot have been otherwise is a stronger principle
than light's invariance over non-locality, time travel over flat horizons

The interpenetration of multiple worlds and paths cannot be
just a matter of probability no matter how intricate, nor of determinism

Any existential moment and region, spacious spacetime
relatively could not have been otherwise, Love conserved in this world too

Thus we have internal and external aspects of general flat spacious dimensions the pillars and
levels of boundless but finite four space, in this sense the universe viewed as a singularity.

St. Juneau Sanatorium
L. Edgar Otto 09-17-09

The sanatorium on Oxford Street
is remarkably free from wandering spirits
There are no elevators, just three stories of stairs

My artist roommate sensitive to other worlds and other selves
sleeps well there, no windows boarded over, no locked doors
Nothing to banish by hopeful science, ritual prayers

The students and workers who rent the halls and divided wards
do not know the building's history, Ole Ole Olson
Keeps up the pipes and green, filled me in while changing light bulbs

Miners, trappers, seamen, cheese head immigrants, lumberjacks
came here to heal and breathe, or have some comfort in their dying
"That apartment has a number but is empty, used to be the morgue."

I gazed down at my songbird, stark walls - did she move out? - I understood,
She who never knew her fist love, her needs so long, far away too painful now to dream

* * *

Evidence Beyond the Shifting Fringe L. Edgar Otto 09-17-09

Evidence, witnessed or of circumstance
is itself extraordinary if science changes, evolves
For no place keeps its whole identity over time
nor of space for the criminal who transforms guilt even
That the lingering unexplained rime never happened in fact

Nor the source of things pinpointed as every place can be seen a source
as if the Evil Iron Buddha set the fires of hell upon the earth, if we look for
Reasons, our idols made of clay, cat whiskered, pigments ceramic in the kiln
Nor at the Pacific Rim, baseball curve trinity of crust orange peeled

No separate ages of the earth where changes end or begin
Shifting poles without rigid patterns, Love's hollow laws of dynamos.

* * *

Rather than the ascended hoop dream the black hole in my heart left behind
my blood's deep rapture as I here live, not his heart mummified, persisting among
The crumbling walls, black forests of fading marble slabs, distance only
Far from equilibrium our talks to the cold case dead, short and long equal straws drawn

The dust can't break down enough even on the carrier waves of Satan's laughter
my consolation that time runs out, accelerates, sands of sea shells burying shells
Cities built on the rubble of forgotten cities, the puzzles and confused parts of fossil bones
where we still play in sunlight, spread the fallen robin's wings

Feel the gravity in intricacy of its gone life's magic as we hide from, fool the lesser gods
a new earth age in a sense that I have never seen you as beautiful, tonight,
Bedecked with babbles and frills, costly hair style concrete your wispy ghost
we doing our work with all the light on and open ocean views, I feel worthy beholding

Your expert work and commitment, yet am so of your faith and love you seem to know and
Include me, your well earned relaxing. What is love that it begins with our exile from the garden?

* * *

What nailed to it belongs to the earth, but things screwed to it can take flight
I wait long through the night we reading at a distance together, your smiles over some line
Read me - I did not tuck you in as I must fall asleep before you.

* * *

Naked Ape Singularities L. Edgar Otto 09-20-09

We once dwelt in the sea
because we are the sea, carry it within us
The tides do not just shift
intricate the gears in its prediction
Our eyes and probes to the origin of stars
half foward my vision to seek you
Making do with outlines, shadows yet
seeking finer definition, clarity and
Certainty brought home, half be it so touch your perfection

For the sea is give and take more than a
luxury of love and violence vanishingly trying to reach
Your hint of wisdom, naked and pure the
seaweed returned to the shore from the depths,
Elixors that renew and heal from the rain forest of the bottoms

* * *

Deeper than the preternatural garden, vertigo and
white out, blinding light, hysteresis in the poles, ley line triangles
The feathers and furs we long to paint even more than eat, to spawn
unto exhaustion in the pools and wetlands, begin life high in brow
That sweat and tears from the sky do not burn our eyes
while life grows longer with the learning, defeats hollow eyed
Winters, investment in promise - save those vultures
themselves enslaving creativity, the immature but not innocent
For at the evaporation of their dark seed heart such light disgusts them
with no explanation otherwise than vague chance or natural selection
What to the wise and they discard, wisdom accentuated
at the triangulation of dust, of fire, is God-with-us

We long to return to the ocean's garden with greater intellect the hourglass sexy
To meet in the battle circle, naked singularities to command from our see not it us
New worlds of inflation's.

* * *

My Hairy Chest in 3-D (Yours a Stained Glass Window) 09-21-09

not know
the colour
of your downcast eyes

* * * '

Love tires, out grows its old songs
where to more once at the top of mountains?
Beauty cradling itself into a trap
at sunrise indiscernible with sunset and
We fear the end a fall, nowhere else to go

How small the towering empire, how weak
our shackles in the shadow of the twins
Time's arrow moves, foolhardy Anne Darrow
songs remade, cleaver laughter of our day
Upgraded the sleeping beast, dragon slayer special effects

The masks of tragedy and comedy dim as curtains fall
in the background, our epic not worth the writing about after all
I cannot give you, deny you your Love's great grand illusive expectations
as I bow to the audience's award of praise, and down before you, kiss your feet

* * *
We leave behind, miss the child we were, found abused and wanting
Worth what our story in the writing but unknown tunnels as we walk into the light?

* * *

your soul
Love through your
rose colored glasses

* * *

Distar XI - Avocado, What a Pair Production L. Edgar Otto 09-22-09

What are we, awake in a world of no preferred time
or that nature is as it is, we the center and being there

If not that center standing out all the more a mystery
far from the stringy plankton scales and symmetry, crystalline?

The hourglass, cones of light imperfect radial spin gaining,
losing weight, multi-image paths, time's arrow, z-axis invariant, unstable

Only the wise chimps in deed of pedicure, full of gorilla lice
imagine the quasi-verse as multi-verse or only a one God centered origin

Only they can swing, fly on vines through dense jungle who fall
too many times, walk awkwardly free will asserted on land

Conjuring a determined but empty world, seething micro sea-lings
in directed flux as if that the reasonable central logic fuzzy bottled light

Our love in this world spins silk fabric, the rising sun on mulberry
we twins, freckle mirrored freckles, zit for zit, that's the big picture of it.

* * *

Our bridge beyond the Cheshire grins. I'm late, I'm late
blue gown down the Fibonacci rabbit hole pairs and quantum tunnels

We in the flesh of meaning and meaning beyond the flesh
I your hero on the silver screen, you De Baby Sitter

Would that magic be enough, your message near, no iron thin skin tight
rayon and aura light between us not unrequited what we both know we want

Such love stable we the center, unique path, blind to warnings it may never be
While I read your cosmic code, roe fixed on the hunter's light and gun sight

Frozen on the railroad tracks, I your milkman and you my baby's bottle
Yet I know how pointless and typical to others appears our farce and comedy

Still, on its ground deep love can be forever lost in tragedy

* * *

it be
thought she was pretty

from the nest
feigned my broken wing

all Love's light
though at a distance

* * *

Thought vanishes into our perception space or becomes
incarnate again, perching on matter, drinking energy
This needs not be all at once, nor every dreamed recalled
what of chessmen lost in battle, mind gains in strategy
We fading in and out doubled, halved, light and dark realities

The spinning filaments and elements, beyond light speed psi-plasm
we forget the metaphysics in the death throes and body spasms

Love constrained cannot be contained in limits, not quasic breaks define us
we never solve where its story begins and end, its shallows or depths
Save we wait for the broken chain of our hand written letters
thinking it up to the other now to make the next move, messages light bottled

The apple blossoms bloom in pairs, one to fall and one to grow
The lineage of amoebas split likewise, drawing in, reaching out
The planets two by two, avocados bearing fruit every other year

If you do I'll be the little bird gleaning gnats from your window
for you my songs, I waiting for you

A comfort I know so knowing truth foreseen like Buddy's fleeting heart
higher spiraling.

* * *

A Beau Geste Universe
L. Edgar Otto 09-22-09

at night
my mass, your frontier

our gods
look for signs
make empty gestures

made of wishes

satellites turned on

beyond my
clock's horizon

Love needs
not to know
spin dreams before hand

day words slurred dry drunk

false myth fears
worst scenarios

your meds make you sleep

distant, cold
Love's view forever.

* * *
Love's Instabilities L. Edgar Otto 09-24-09 (11:30 pm)

We can reach the shock front
of the sum total of visible horizons
Accelerating, the pedal stuck, the breaks worn
measure then other souls at the speed of light
In the worlds and ourselves, he who feels the acceleration

Returning here again if the timing is right, if the sea churns
not too far above the smallest dancing germs in
The chain of life's being, each cyclic universe of layered encounters we
each the center, multi-anthropocentric, more like a social economics the model
Coming close to our neighborhood, tree ring indefinite extinctions

I chased after you soul, Little Turtle, our heartbeats once the same age
You and the world now vanished after a hundred trillion years since I left
I do not know what disturbs your sleep, what spirit you hold fixed lingers above you
I just know you rest now in to that ocean far from him, in afterglow of light's passion

* * *

We passed by each other from long ago, marked the calendar and hour
for all time to come, absolute Love's loss and one chance
As if we can find certainty in passion's spindle,
weave a myth that does not change us as does all light
Light viewed and not touched, visitation before your prison window

Evil angels of the night collide into their own apocalyptic vanishing
the poles reverse, accusers become our defenders, protectors and
What was held in sacred trust but demeaned by Love's fickle betrayers
even hatred so decoheres irreversibly, its matter forgotten rubble to build anew
The greatest good and higher evils dwell not in the certainty and uncertainties of this world

Not that we can see into future to the extent we see our pasts do we desire
to map our lineage and history close to the spacious living center of all
But that we in looking back can learn or find the myth of Love
where we can face and create, design anew our own future worlds.

* * *

I wrote this book of poems for you, all of us, you'll never see- as your will
Returned to it as all limited, false cycles I do not find the author me or it about you
So rare Love's light can be in the sober day, so tragic the loss of my drunken dreams
you needed always as much as I where love cannot belong to just anyone and be life's ground
holding back the edge of night, the covered up pain before the creeping nothingness
So rare true love when it is but the ground and image of this world's instabilities.

* * *

Monday, September 7, 2009

Origin of the Pe Sla

For those who have asked me about my chatroom nick here I explain the origin of the term Pe Sla (Lakota Souix, close to my Cherokee lineage of my grandmother, linguistically.) That is what I mean when I say I am the ghost of departed quantities, a nova as I am interested in the skies- and when first on the native american chat room to talk with my Objibway friends I was asked for a nick that came from an attribute of mine.

The savanah and then the prairie- what is above as what is below in a sense- what better way to dwell in the spirit and peace of a zen garden than that place where over some period of time beyond the quaterions of the sparks within us that we have not really confused the map with the terrain, the scalers and vectors of what is changing or invariant in our space and time.

She bends in an arch like the first of mothers, her milky way presenting and dancing in the window- first the dream then the awakening- in all this dreaming we are exhausted but are still strangers to each other, father time and mother earth.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

The Music of the Monopoles

In this cloudy zen garden some of the images come from the related links for illustration of my comments on an article posted in the science chat forum.

* * *

The Music of the Monopoles:

On the contrary to statements on the forum I find this a most exciting breakthrough and goes to the heart of the issue as a matter of our philosophic discussions on the nature of physics. I include here some ideas from the pseudoscience which goes to show how far a lack of understanding the basic higher dimensional geometry can lead to unassailable theories for lace of what is regarded as solid research.

Clearly it is a fundamental notion of counting, that there is unity or something less and thus the idea of zero in the abstract. Moreover the dipole of say the earth's magnetic field can become a quadrapole or an octapole and so on in our understanding of how such an idea of magnetism works in space. Now, a lot of this is simply group ideas but these are very subtile- music, like my tetraphonics can indeed be applied to wave and group theories with better notation (even better than I posted but have not published) We need an attitude toward such things more than any given math or interpretation of them.

What we need, as the debate is shown on the sciencechatforum, is something that grasps the nature of the problem at least from a topological perspective in higher spaces and string ideas. Something intuitively deeper than special relativity which itself is bipolar between the quantum and general relativity. We need to moderate the hysterical enthusiasm of the young linford86 who says, telling us what we already know, that we have to look at Maxwell's equations again. How well taught this great desire to find the new and the unique- how monopolar. We also need to moderate the skeptical constipation of Lincoln on this matter. Pseudoscience aside when we cannot distinguish the poles in so many debates (like health care?) we need a better way do what we call science and a better philosophy of science- at least the human spirit should dispassionately take an overview of our theoretical entanglements.

Perhaps those interested in natural and not artificial patentable strings of proteins and enzymes will see that this idea of pseudo-monopoles as serious bearing on the biochemistry of we living things including some reason in the chaos of experiments.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Tetraphonics (Music of the Spheres)

I add a supplemental image to emphasize the cycle nature of tree note forms- the minor stands as if time against the past present and future of the diminished, major, and augmented triad: Again we have the dark fluid concepts as in the galaxy formation evolution.

Another zen garden of our virtual guilty pleasures as on the PBS radio lately, the Jean Ferraca show on Earth, is the idea of Permaculture. A permanent agriculture and yet a permament or sustained culture in itself. Yet it is not wide open evolution of the struggle or survival of the fittest but our intellect intervenes but not in the slash and burn destruction by the plow.

What then of such radical reductionism that as a Darwinian idea it does not take into account the ecological balance of things? Now wonder it cannot answer the ultimate origin of life and holds it all a matter of randomness over some history. Yet in the proteins (as per the science new activity on that chat forum) we find that just beyond our categories of extensions into the unknown without closure that the proteins themselves may arise anew from the non-coding genes (thus to make us in a sense culturally different from the apes). What can science say that will not address the real philosophy of such things? Is it not closer to some idea of the spiritual wherein maybe those who connect the emotions and the health of the genome are right after all. But if they are it is the science that becomes obsolete at a dead end after all as its growth is artificial thus less than the psychological and sociological as a basis of knowledge. This idea of a philosophy of science is more in tune with the permaculture (hey, why are so many addicted to that trivial game on facebook, Farmville, they import gifts of bananas and harvest corn- I wonder if the message instead of natural balances is one of monoculture?

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Paper Money and C notes

My study of music is becoming easier especially having developed most of it on my own such that some things seem so simple to me now. How the notation matters and how we see it leads me to think about some ideas of note intervals and wave positions on a decibel or log scale as the same sort of group mathematical problem as the issues of what is a grounding plane for physics. Music beyond the 15th (which is C) is the physics and physics of perception, a quasic thing of certain intervals 16 + 1 of a field of four space rotations formed on 96 which in a deep way I vaguely see justifies the mixing of the just scale with the twelfth root of two as we actually hear and sing the music. This then involves abstract group algebra but in a way our notations just do not handle from a comprehensive global viewpoint in the music or the math (do we reduce things to a pattern or chord of different names and voices for the same chord? 192 was Plato's musical number, that of half the four space rigid rotations. But is the world so plural at ground we can simply add frequencies to make some arbitrary contour FFT or in reality the root of things if they could be individually ascertained make for deeper levels of the underlying reality of what as in music is not simply linear steps or scales? This idea is of course a little more than the fractal idea of dimension or the exponential idea of relations to zeta complex numbers and the vortexes of roto-centers and so on as if unto some unity physics is a reduction to its own derivatives, a false unity perhaps, a way to avoid the concept of some level we cannot grasp of innumeracy.

So I am on the passenger side looking out the window of the car down some highway with the sun on my arm as I think how strange if you think about it what life and the living of it is anywhere actually in time and space, a residence and occupancy potentially everywhere and when, a dealing with our past but one here and now life and what debts and demons there are some of which are ourselves in our own pasts and futures- But I note upon awakening this thought was after all, Descartes like in its resolution of doubt while the living at least, was in a DREAM. Yet physically as well as psychologically is there a difference save in some direction of the voicing and some sense of the unity or tone things resolve to even if we do not know what causes the division and direction of time's arrow in the first place? Not all diminishes and augmented chords can be unified in a single ring, perhaps they can as two rings, and so on...

What then of the maps I explore on Google, of my beloved Chapel Hill, and today Charlotte but can only come close to the tangle of streets- sure the first house there by the railroad track I can see, and the underpass where we as children collected bottles for change or smoked our first cigars. Or the unmistakable shape of the architecture of the high school on Eastway drive- yet from a distance - distar, to be at some distance from it, from the depths of truth and privacy as if in our old and once read page of some book of life and time we lose and forget the early connections, or roads on the map (I mean google has not mapped the street view there yet to cover every public space but the virtual brain at least on the surface of those dimensions are growing. Or as it involves the future of this era in a sort of spacious present when time or space seems reversed that we are in a sense losing the future clearly as well as the dementia of our past life and memory to so be at a distance from somewhere in the diminished and exaggeration of chords- an atrophy of dreames, a split of what in subjective time becomes real space or vice versa- and a sense if we can extend beyond one universe and one life the experience that does not vanish such that say Johnny at the coffee shop died in some world and now thinks he has a second chance until the final evolution and arrival to some new place when I can quite conceive the process of what is virtual and real may never end although we are not quite the same soul or evolution into enlightenment as we once were- only we are born with some degree of debt to the past and future only to make a better definition of what we can know and see as the world is not so simple maybe in the intervals nor can it forever be bogged down in the disinformation of incomplete music.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The Strand of Space and Time

It involves dreams of my early house and a virtual tour walking the streets to the old school with the aid of the google maps on the street level. I see as if the light from the future rather than the past and the shell of magical places that seemed once so big. Tet I also see just how much of nature has turned into a desert over this last half century. We travel in our minds also in this real sense of all things that are made of virtual sand here at the endless beach of this world's seeming strand. And what do we recall with a reminder but the old gate by the cemetary to which the map does not take us deep in its paths- nor the school nor inside the houses and their depth of cycles, nor the ship Venus moored in the haguewaters is there any longer it was such a long universe of time ago. In many ways we are more real than the dust.