Three Fishermen

Three Fishermen

L. Edgar Otto   23 August, 2012

Three souls meet in a bar to divide the known universe having returned to the drawing board of Kepler's first falsifiable model of the geometry and music of the spheres, an angel, a ghost, and an alien.

The Angel said "We will colonize Venus where it is warm but the cloak of clouds so thick our light bends into itself within as our dreams and we can be closer to the perfect light of self reflection thus our immortality in the clouds."

The Alien said, "That is a good plan and I agree.  We will go toward mars where the atmosphere is thin and we can move with less gravity than this one cycle of the sun, its eleven and this earth. Closer to the empty chill of space to glean the motes of dust and explore its vastness and picture of the violent mortal stars."

The Ghost interjected, " I must move on from this earth and I have you guys beat for we will colonize the Sun."

The Others laughing pointed out to him that he would surely burn up before he got very near.

"Well," replied the Ghost, " Our plan is to go at night."

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Pertty much can intelligibly follow from a fresh start of the same old new theories.  Hoyle and his steady state would have planets formed from the creation field, some Saturn and its moon pretty much made out of the same ratio of atoms depending on the radius from the central sun.

Yet we know such orbs can be vastly diverse and as at least a matter of probability Boyd's law seems an accident of design, an anthropomorphic coincidence that it so fits the Platonic solids so inscribed and we infer by better astronomy a wide variety of Jupiter's and earth like bodies in so many different orbits and numbers.

Yet in the dark of matter if between the most common of solar systems, the mysterious exchange beyond the radius of a star as well as that within, extremes bottom up or top down of chaos verses crystallization, changes of state

each planet a failed star or some precipitation from one that we surpass the last hope to explain that it has to be magnetism that transfers the energy between obs even if it is observed but unexplained action seemingly at a distance. 

Would it not follow as things chill down that the states of things between orbs change, that is since there is less star formation from some idea of a hot beginning the same processes are remnants of universal unified laws, that sometimes we can find a process of creation of new atoms or rearrangement of them into our familiar world and dimensions of space, could not the extinctions have as well some toxic change from such a source say like iridium? The normal ideas work as well in the present something of the last of continuity though sparce remains.

These ghostly neutrinos through the pipe line and lines of flux after all may confirm my first high school suspicions that these can influence us, our season cycles, perhaps earthquakes.  While reason seems to improve our taking tests (see yesterdays science daily on brain scans and the LSAT) - and by the way you philosophers of science talking to the philosophychatforum fighting all metaphysics with metaphysics there is a picture scan too in yesterdays articles concerning the processing of vowels, an idea you said was whacky.  The human mind, for all its transparency, is much more diverse than we have imagined, even more than the vast complexity of our genes.

It seems alien to me that an organic molecule outside a system is just another polymer or that effects between them is a separate realm of say "information" where levels do not coherently mix, nor academic departments, nor abstract ideas of higher dimensions and symmetry or even quantum theory as intimate to all scales not to mention the microcosm and the macrocosm akin in the idea of dark matter and the Casmir effect.

I should say that a few days ago I had another dream where we were mapping the mind but in the light of new wisdom.  I cannot express the irony of it all, how I see people through their shallow skins and ways they take and undertake their lives.  I come a little closer in the poetry or of late the last observations of the mundane like the way trees in the video seem to mimic the nerve like wisps of matter between galaxies and the voids.  Clearly I have a further awakening learning the language, making useful but simple symbols to translate the arbitrary and sometimes wrong opinions and designs of others in both real and virtual spheres and more importantly can intelligently monitor my own errors of view and intuition.

It must be a frightful thing to be in the minds of some people, repulsed by the mirrors, hiding behind the cloth and color boxes, covering the furrows of wisdom, failed stars that can only regret false hopes and cowardice for ruthlessness on behalf of others for a truth- so dangerous a view, so efficient where it is critical, yet a most authoritarian word, words attacked as if physical sticks and swords.  Ah, what in creativity seems as certain as parallels to the music and the rhyme of changing sensitivities as words create and change our minds or are created, are insistent others become part of our views as if to gain someone must loose, the suckers... Hey, we use euphemisms freely, 'Forget You' or 'Sucker' in the media as if it not some uncertain stance of stereotype or archetype, nature and nurture profiling. 

My Burly tobacco plant, the house plant in my tobacco free apartment so they insisted and for my own benefit too- even the horticulturists cant answer my question I felt was stupid that as I had never seen a tobacco plant even working in the fields with the black folk and they cringing when I drank from their water barrel the tenet farmer boss would object- it was so hot in the fields chopping the weeds and 'suckering' the tobacco flowers that the leaves grew much broader before the auction.

Humor aside as puns and idiom changes in the eras and generations of the people, now twelve leaves up from five, hydroponics and heirloom seeds.  I mean if we now have programs to predict if a three dimensional structure by such printing is physically possible why not a program that would design it right in the first place, or within reasonable tolerances?  Everywhere we need a more unified approach and a new era of theory as we awaken to new technology again.  But these are biases perhaps for the foundations yet in the sum total, the Omnium, should we not expect this human like relaxed view of our creative minds that seems to know its place in God's, so to speak, hierarchy, filing system?

In my dream, sometimes we fast and make progress as well with lack just as with plenty and luxury up to satisfaction and saturation of real and false cravings as our minds and bodies juggle things and average out, fight the principle of decay in theory a plant is immortal in its seasons as surely as the multiverse and universe is for all practical and possibly ultimate theoretical purposes (most likely something more in our ideas of time) a meaningless distinction in the quasifinite state of things.  I understood later that we in the laboratory of that dream working together were all rather competent in our observations and the detail of the experiments as much a second nature as the consideration even of the absurd so as to intellectually face our limitations and hopefully awaken to some real truths.

I do not want to awaken others from their slumbers or thrill of the business of living, growing, loving.  How does anyone know.  The social and political climate is so full of distractions these days people make a lot of what they half hear, I mean it is 1984 at last for some political model and its faiths in rising but never reached (dys- or u-) topia where the people starved from real stimulation weep at the slighest spilt milk in some minor even from the two way monitor and very large screen.  Or with no middle ground the very small screen.  Deeper into fleeing fears and into sleep. 

I actually said to someone today, a former computer worker who had a stroke and strives to recover, I tell him the news in science in the research on his melatonin problem as he blossoms only in the summer, or sleeps mostly unless he visits his grandchildren in California or Florida.  My hearing the cup of oatmeal and 500 milligrams I told him years ago he said it really helped, I caught myself saying reporting my progress in coding that I wished I knew not so long ago what I know now, in technology, and more so how people should live civilly with that important to each other.  How typical, the stuff of folk and country songs, yet how true in many respects.  Still, we carry over in the darkness of our ghost an inner light here on earth if not in some imagined heaven what going forward in time we can change.

I had one visitor, she played awhile in the open mikes with me but went further down hill with the opiates- I still need to do something with the songs, cliche to this generation of just another drug song or two.  I am quite startled how far physically she bears a thousand dots of scars yet we all seem to have gone to wilting our weeds once so wild and risky incautious... Even in the scope of creative time some things just cannot or will not be changed. Deep down I know she regrets her life.  Her descent down the roller coaster which in her way she is thrilled she survived say the time in Cleveland, a sort of negative or death insurance. 

I did not ask her the secret once she said she could not tell me.  I told her how I asked her friend to take her with him.  Such is the limits of love, such is the sense of things when we come so close to each other to experience things, gaze and barely graze her mind, feel the depth of serious or superficial her cuts and mixed up needles she insists I did not see.... I was not that strong to forgive anything as I tried to live up to in my promise.  We never made love by the way.  How odd it would be if in the loops of time the next one must be so special beyond love some further time around and it her, I do have the poems set aside she my Last Woodland Sunflower.

I am playing better,  I mean surprisingly we do not understand music for all its intricate medieval notation and conventions, just the other day I played better the one song as the ideas in my mind focus better and things I could not sing or play finally come to something with feeling and new... if we do not forget and lay aside our artful works.

   "Tell me, burn outs, am I one? Old before my time, some say you are...

   "What's the attraction, ejector fraction low, all your hopes and dreams down some porcelain bowl...."

and so on...

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