The above illustrations are repeated here but are temporary until the new results are posted.
My mind has taken a quasic leap or a quantum loop and I have to follow down the paths of looking at my old ideas in the light of new connections. Essentially, I am considering a playable nine dimensional chess. Sometimes the map and grid of things is discovered or comprehended as a triviality- but sometimes when some trivialities are understood it connects to relevant other ones where some of our vague ideas makes more sense. In this case perhaps we can see the salvation of those parts of the standard theory that cannot be easily questioned.
Having found the fit of square pegs and round holes, or conversely, I now take on the mix of apples and oranges (hey I am in a poetic mood, in fact at the same time I am contemplating a poem: When Last did it not Snow. Poetry, after all, is the meaning in the cold grids of calculation and an objectivity that makes the object of its dreaming vanish into empty information. It remains to be seen, only known to the gods or perhaps myself- if doing both will in some ways enhance or diminish either, or other than intensity of mind these are closely linked.)
... returning shortly (and Kea you answered one question in your post I had not found a way to ask you yet.)
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Damn, in trying to draw the picture of this I realize that the steps to see it are rather intricate and should be detailed- not to mention that a few of the some numbers and colors are used but in different ways which at times even when familiar with them I have to be aware of the possibility of errors. So, maybe this is a case where a word description of this model may help:
Normal 2D chess is played on a 2^6 or 6D board (I think this idea is akin to Clifford algebra but I have not studied that.) 3D chess in an 8x8x4 board and 4D chess in an 8x8x4x4 board. With this in mind it is clear (in a two player game) that an 8x8x8 board in three natural dimensions is playing in 9D space.
If we consider the orientation of each piece as if our natural 3D reality is really 9D of which we can only see the vectors of a third (or two thirds) we have a remarkable resemblance to the idea of quarks. (I really do not imagine even the geeks constructing and playing this game as chess even though it is possible to play it as a real construction. But as a particle idea it demands the "apple,orange, and pair production direction" of the idea of particle generation including where one imagines any fourth or partial fourth generation. In fact, I suspect the labeling as if 4 base rather than three base of this 9D quasic grid is the possible source of the idea of E7.5 intuitively but I do not know- nor have I had much luck in intuitively considering only 14 of the 15 or 16 points as associahedra in one direction. In any case the missing or implied cubes of the 6 tetracubes equaling 24 in the above grid is within the first cell or the zero cell- note also that if we do divide this 512 graph into quadrants the 240 soma solutions tend to remain within the first three quadrants.
[note: I find Kea's post on the digraphs (directed graphs) a good method to perhaps apply to this 9D grid, but do not plan to explore that key area.]
Despite the apparent complexity of all this- we really should begin with 16D space of which it will take considerably more quasic grid paper to do so.
I have a thought in the back of my head that we either have to have a new concept of complex units in multiplication or a better understanding of them in relation to the natural and real rotations and reflections of these soma cubes. But I do want to get around to plotting Peter Rowlands notations on Dirac on this 32 x 32 quasic grid.
And Holy Crapola, what if this sort of 9D particle reading applies and is extended to how we read the genetics?
* * * *
Sometimes I have doubts putting the physics before the poetry. I can only say that in my head the original while the walking seemed sweeter in the details, but here it is:
When Last did it not Snow L. Edgar Otto 01-27-11
I walk by the flower garden in the recurrent dream of arctic snow
recalled the flowers there, past and for to come, my dream last night
The Christian is out in it again with his snow plow and I
can walk easily around his house, he knows no other life
Perhaps in dreams of life to come his all the more real, at peace,
taking care for the blades and belts, winter's harvest of fingers
Three or four the seasons, more so three as my time on earth
becomes the bare bones, the last autumn leaves of trees
Somewhere in the antipodes it is summertime and yet things
stand on end when it is till Christmas in July, Orion ever horizontal
Eight the stances of the martial zodiac, then the shifts, then sixty-four
runes of my thoughts flow and coagulate, sideways blowing snow
The cities have no funds for salt, like the poor they think of sand
collect fines, only our sidewalks clear, wide enough for wheelchairs
* * *
When it rains it pours- another installment on the accidentally growing I am the Weather series of poems. This inspired from a fb chat with the poet teacher from Jordan Sultan-Ratrout who thought I knew his situation from his poems which I read as the universal human condition. Sometimes we lose more from accidental or long term relationships- and there is no cure for it, nothing to be said save the world is still wider to come, and the deepest poetry of live is its tragic losses. We do lose our desire to eat, and ability to read, at the time. But in the end the little things lost that count a great deal is the often taken fore granted simple friendship. Yet we know from the poet Kahil that lovers need some distance to grow and address our doubts and our cup of change circumstance of decisions- well, some of us are not at fault in breakups as there is not always two sides to some story. But this is not to be seen as comedy, we know, somewhere, we are all better than that. Character and judgment is still for us faced ever generation a work of art in progress.
Becca L. Edgar Otto 01-27-11
Becca you are still the most beautiful person in my world
but I was never worthy of you, not exceptional enough to fill your needs
You really did not know how beautiful you were, young lady
oh you flirted, priming and presented to the world, like anyone else
Still, felt so alone in paradise, not to build up your hopes
the bronze sea salt glistening will come for you on his surf board
I dreamed about you the other day, no lust, no tension in the dream
our short window for a short time together for it to work now gone
What is left in our pot bellied stoves against our winter but what
was lost that stoked the fires of which cold from behind we turn to face
Save that we were friends and in the sooty smoking love's embers
longs for that past thing too beyond glossed over evils that you do
Surely we were beyond all this, the prying plans of broken others
I did not think if you would steal from them, you would from me.
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