Sunday, February 28, 2010
It has been a few days since the ideas of metaphysics and cosmology has overtaken my output of the more poetic nature- at last the concepts can ease back into poetry and maybe music lyrics. At best in manuscript I have a few notes in between these states of mine and here I present them as both the poetry and concepts inspiring it.
But is this not a question of love, that is replication of information or species?
I initially imagined a poem about hunting coyotes in Wisconsin, or a story about the third man lighting a cigarette in the trenches at night- perhaps if we close our eyes our sense of hearing is enhanced and so the magic bullets meet as if in zen the target. In all these geometries we seem to create the vacuum to create the substance.
We gather then from some surface clue in stealth the tells, know who delivers the message if not understand the message itself or its truth. Organic information is patterned, fractally in the relative coherence of longevity and intellect, superior sperm of our DNA, not just the idea from one view between the cyclic and the inflation models that all is hologram. The quasic principles posed and found some solutions long ago to these problems- the strands and strings entwine and before the big bangs the memories are set down for the next act of time, the loops and strings of gravity of which even I am not sure its ultimate role, its mirror in the black holes of time as memory or karma like its debts, its long separation out of the chaos the natural quasic decoherence of the world and the leveling unto isometries of partial and real fields that explain in our hearts even as we time travel really that we do make some new organic knowing in the world. Artful Love!
How postmodern the once act of art and the eternal design of the world- and who is the artist if the artist like Stradivari created by God the ideal design his instrument? The immovable rock He makes that he cannot move, Creator of the nothingness and dark stars also.
At the flat bottoms Pythagoras rules, at least a surface dream on the front lines of the symmetry of two it takes to make an argument. The old triangle inequality and the 50-50 of levels and orbits of entanglement. If in the end the default of this world, an ideal point at infinity or the n-dimensional flat plane, phaneron, is the Euclidean model- the scalar and vector space an addition to a living plane and just another proof of logic, Is the Quasic model if equal to the Euclidean not also capable of than Nonquasic geometry analogous to Non-Euclidean as well vector spaces? But my notes were not all about physics, tilts beyond the casmir forces on all scales and all as we fine tune our lyres of science. It is about culture too.
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We in the struggle of individuality modify or erase the theories of others but we cannot then say it is something taken away as an art form by the other- it is a pale plagiarism or maybe an improved design no long the purity of the artist that now stands awhile as the shoulders of the giants the young Newtons stand upon.
We also are not yet sure between the individual and society what it the nature of the mediator between them- it is perhaps as real and a matter of faith as money but in any case it is the arrow of time as the possibility of growth, decay, and the stable tides of memory- the free lunch of the universe begins and is sustained by the idea of the resulting creativity - in the steady state the creator ghostly far away in the depths of space a new seed arises to balance the growing whole as if once made we have the eternal proton whose bounds are the rain of shards of the mirror ball. Our life paths are only quasi stable as our states of war and peace as we in fact and faith only manage to merge life paths artfully over some breath of collapse at what are the infinity or zeros of our relentless bombardment we the experiment and experimenter of the Brownian motion.
All you moralist and bureaucratic lawyers and keepers of the principia- are we to protect by the law, protect the law, or strive to protect from the corrupted uses of the laws, its traditions and treasons, immunities? Which by fiat is the diagnosis or the economics as artful truth or babble our logic as cultural gravity?
Not what is in our lover's mind do we collect the data, aim the rifle, cull the herd, march in the snow after the wounded coyote that feeds off our range, but the interpretation alas of the surface of her mind itself- limiting her as our self the varieties of wide infinity that we infer what may be another spirit and soul.
Athletes, after all like orgasm the long preparation is climaxed fleeting and the great projects to host the Olympics are costly and generally go fallow. Regions where not only some loop intersects the zero but a greater one the ideal infinity that we try to manage by the idea of types, castes, classes, states, and the multiple ply of our fields and strings in an eight dimensional flatland of imaginary's. We break the old records, we understand what survives the big bang of our designs for new world or new lives in the vague sense we create the future.
The artificial snow, the frost and then it pounded into ice, the planes and razor wedges sliding with ease what nature has not blessed us with at the time- all the structural arts strive to an ideal of peace yet excellence in the space of empty Olympic cities before and after us.