Pruning Theory
Branches, Old and New Glory's, the
Universe's Assembly Code and God's Science Projects
L. Edgar Otto 18 January, 2013
Three photos of
ordinary things which I saw in an artistic way yet found the parallels for
their use representing foundational ideas on science and a little philosophy...
I have no extended
commentary in mind tonight but if something occurs to me I will post it here.
* * * * * * *
In my use of the
special group numbers of the (Euclidean) polytopes 1152 is the group for the 24
cell in 4D... but I have not looked beyond this with new understanding where
wider numbers relate (14400 I think- I do not have access to my books on
Coxeter still held in storage including manuscripts left from at least a dozen
years ago). I assume that these sorts of numbers are easily recognized by those
in the know.
I wonder if in the
153 as the sum of cubes of the digits if we have say 3105, this holds or for
how many digits which of course takes up to 14 steps to reach it again. 19 is of course the differnce of cubes for
that series of numbers arranged from the view of a corner as hexagons.
The fylfot in a sense
generates the process symbols but going beyond the idea of 13 the key number is
17 or one more than the 4D orthogon- art deals with this where we have tried to
make something of the structures from the count. The symbolism suggests to me we can find
better governing falling thru such cracks between the centered arrays (I mean
from the south wondering how many stars were on the Rebel flat I counted 14-
now that in a sense is not wrong anymore more that we count such centers twice
in the odd orthogons.)
In a sense the
confusion in our current issues of politics haunted still by the old
ideologies, or the home team of feelings left over from our civil war, sort of
keeps the reality of the state in the attention of the electorate, that and the
realization that some people can change the laws like said my State senator of
which he said a lot on behalf of veterans but it was just talk and those in
power really did not take him seriously.
How they had such
faith as if betting in a football game as to how the voters would respond or
who would be the vice presidential choice- polls and such... the American
pastime really. I had the knack of
encountering him by accident all around the town but it led nowhere really for
my own situation. I had been a voter
since 18 form 25 years and now found myself outside the privilege, a homeless
veteran who went to the free food place because another vet wanted company...
it was there that I met Cave Girl.
* * * * *
I let Cave Girl stay
in my apartment last time I had one on my own as she had let me stay in her
cave. I offered this to anyone who if on
the street had sheltered me. She never
took off her boots and had pictures of China, the female wrestler on the wall
near her corner on the floor. I dreamed
once she changed her clothes and was really Big Foot covered with coarse fur.
One day I wondered
how well she could count so I asked her how many stars were on the small US
flag on the wall. She immediately
answered 100. I said well there are 50
states and she said but there are 50 on the other side too. I thought a moment then decided that in a way
she was right.
Once when it was 10
degrees Farhenheit outside my son and his girl came to visit and of all times
she took off her boots saying she was washing her socks in the kitchen sink.
our eyes began to water so we went outside awhile just to touch base after
laughing at the situation.
She eventually
listened to me when she would sometimes go out drinking that she should have
help for epilepsy or not drink...I convinced her that was the explanation for
the bruises she wondered where she got them the next morning the few times I
witness her convulsing on the floor.
Her rather plump
short friend came to stay awhile when my son and his girl came to visit again
and upon entering the room he said looking at her- "Hi, you must be
Brontosaurus."
Well, I had taken
over the apartment from a friend of my sons and she turned off the heat so my
tiger barbs died and the food spoiled before I could move in. I had two jobs and both fell thru, also I
could not find out where to pay the rent.
When I eventually found and called the landlord he said he did not know
anything about it and had to talk with the girl that sublet it to me. I did not want to go into debt to him if I
stayed there any longer so I told Cave Girl we had to leave but she just did
not understand it. I had to leave for
work in Madison with the promise that I could go to the school, so I just gave
her the key but did not turn off the lights - I did not know how anyway, but I
just could not leave her stranded.
Months later I came
back briefly and knew she got thru the winter alright. She had turned the apartment into a flop
house for the local street winos known around town under the condition they pay
her rent. But deep into spring the
police came with the landlord and said they had to leave. They protested they paid rent but were not on
the lease. Cave Girl turned out was not
on the lease either and she cited me as leaving the apartment so she had to
leave and it turns out I was not on the lease either- more than that it turned
out the lady I took the apartment over from was not on a lease either!
I pretty much decided
that she had a way of counting very well - 150 bucks a month for three months
from panhandled by all of them. From time to time I encounter her on the street
and she seems to get by better, her own place now but does not seem to recall
those time clearly. She has a boyfriend
I see as a deceptive looser, the father in me coming out I guess, but I just do
not interfere with the street culture- a sort of prime directive, in such
matters.
One more thing I
think of yet as we helped prepare the free food place in the morning and picked
over bread and clothes, put out the table cloths and chairs and so on- well,
she was not blessed with beauty by common standards if we are to judge the gods
that pass out such graces so when my state representative came, meeting him
outside with his bike and great southern snake flag, I stopped to congratulate
him on becoming Senator. He asked who she was and I said Cave Girl- "Oh,
well," he replied "in that case she might have some insight to where
Osama may be hiding." Then as if a
report on state events as our conversation was drawing to a close over small
talk, saying he had a bail of hay on the back of his bike to deliver to a
farmer constituent during the hay shortage, that he had planned to have a 99
year old lady to ride with him in the Memorial Day parade, a supporter but she
had died this year. I told him it probably was just as well she did not ride
for surely as frail as she was she could fall off the back of his bike if he
gave her the old rural tradition of a hay ride.
* * * * * *
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