The Guido Casserole
L. Edgar Otto
  28 April, 2013

The roller coaster off the Jersey shore stands mangled from hurricane Sandy at the heart of the storm of the century.  So much for the rise and fall, potential and kinetic energy in the moving ever down to where the journey set, pushed upward finds a place of stillness.  Esquisite physiques, minds asleep but muscle bound, display only the evolving culture to which even a child knows, a pin prick on the pressing dumbbells pop like balloons while they still distinguish what is real our humor of characters suspended unrealistically in the gravity before becoming aware begin to fall in the flatland of flickering cartoons.  The Beaver generation playing cowboys and indians, or imitating their daddy's in the great war have no instinct to hate their fellow man, and they know its only playing dead.

A candle flame burning in weightlessness is but an eerie blue star-like sphere...a shammy rung out there stays in place or creeps up around the astronaught's arms like lowly lichen and bacteria gaining footholds out from the sea to land. Ancient Greeks clash with the higher awakening as the arms race continues, castles and storms in the isles of Lesbos and Rhodes, Roman engineers build walls or pales to contain the uprising in the gated ghettos- disperse the same old story of one tribal myth or wisdom, an ancient thorn in their side, the ancient feud to which we may not ask when it started as it an be traced to the origins of living things itself.

Aristotle was right in his way, we have to send out rays to see, we have to add a push that still things will move- life the expendinture of effort and small gain from the work in energy.  After all, we can see all things relative a bottom, have to fight and make more elaborate the truths of Einstein who along with Freud gave us a new world view- if we can hold these complimentary or contradictory ideas in our heads at once and that a measure of higher genius, for where these things are unified and true it is as much dust and compressing time as it lives in dream space.  Or it means nothing as we are torn by the loss of our faith that holds the people together, supplies meaning albeit still a mystery.

So enter Sagan, an old biography on this popularizer among the generation of creative buffoons lesser than their fathers fame and achievements, the tribal mother constantly tells him he is a much a genius.  In this time of second generation immigrants they strive for a place, a career and in the new view rebel somewhat, embarrassed by the irrational and rational conflicting in their thoughts- perhaps go beyond the local color of a place and time, man the universal, or if some idea of a totality find again the unmentioned God, or some substitute   Lost gazing at the core of the Milky Way, Sagan sees the rise of life as uniform everywhere, imagines when lost in the sense of the apparently innumerable and dense stars, that other civilizations exists on other worlds- this the endless chain a rational and scientific idea as much the blind belief in angles, ghosts, and aliens.

Here in the heartland I buy the book for a dollar by Keay Davidson it taken out of circulation, from the book shelf.  It is in meant condition as if no one ever read it.  Then again it is like so many swansongs of ending in the technology- for it is in an ancient language, that of books or books walled away from us in the electronic readers, we saw the movie or the documentary to research for our reports.  We grow a mere two fingers to type, to navigate the cloud, as it should be in the digital and binary era.  Sagan too a prophet before and while his time, I in kinship with him knows too well that informality can breed rationality as well the priesthood of Nobel laurelettes beget new ones close to their mentoring.

Miss Davidson in such a spiritual crisis we all share if we care to take thought and not just go on once set into to motion and the ups and downs of our living remarks that upon reading him it was a new vision and hope for her soul.  Only in our era have we come to the great speculative idea of which only as a footnote the likes of Feynman or Sagan casually makes remarks, informally, black holes evaporate in the former and in the latter that if we seen into the electron we could behold another whole new universe.

In dreamland irrationality can be sexy as much as that message like the glistening muscles of Guido of intelligence.  Such libido or drive needs not be open to our thoughts or the world or hidden when we try to make sense of symbols- for to fix a limit or a point is as much to change it or in changing it a loop again comes back to fixity. There is nothing to be seen before or after the stimulation at a wormhole mouth of a dawning or a fall into twilight only there for the sentient mind can time half claim it is but an illusion.

Not that long ago although held down by circumstance and the shouting that we are but sinners to question the myths of another culture, invasive, not holding to the ideals either in their own songs or new blending with all others- I too caught between yet inspired by my Einstein worship- found a lass attractive despite her irrationality and empty promises to escape from the myth she loves her life and was more musically creative with the aid of drugs.  For obvious reasons we never got that close physically- my fingers abhors the sharpness of flesh that feels a pin cushion and I knew she had confused her needle tips- fool I was to agree to help her in her freedom from the sandman.

One night, late and snowed in, I lay beside her we dressed and she said give her a back rub and then said tell me about the universe. As she nodded off into sleep I would would stop then she would awaken to say tell me more.  I told her that was about all I knew and asked why she wanted to know this.

"Well, I never made it to class often but I never missed a film lecture by Carl Sagan- guess I had a thing for him."


In dream space we can imagine something floating but not tethered that might shift abit in a gentle wind, or be carried off Aristotle in surveying his awakening unified world and faith, accepting experiments both from the world and dreams
before religion and science split or that broken symmetry since then in the world. In dream space his law rings true and this is what we mean trying to unify gravity as a force, one that in its motion as a fall finds again the wider scope of Newton's flatland and Kant's clear divisions of absolutes.  This side of dream land all the alien ghosts are weak if even half seen, what is still is still or moving is perpetual.

What is such a force that it only exists half touching the face of  focused centers or diffusion space faster than the light can change the landscape or be changed by it on a higher level that we call gravity that seems a force like the unification of the others so desire to include it, or show some bits of dust the mediators.  Is magnetism real if it only exist relative to a moving electron, and how do we reconcile that a falling thing gains heat or a moving thing radiates?  These are foundational and philosophic problems more than our physics.

But the world is intelligible enough to appear predictable or that someone somewhere can imagine how it turns out close to some speculation on the future.  The mechanisms proposed are more concrete despite the problems of new levels of technology.  The issue is the sharing of dreams, that which grounds the interactions between what seems to be no necessary design of the world as a distinction or not of the real and virtual worlds.  I am just beginning to see, as the number of theoreticians and creative engineers grow, their visions new for a couple of years or so beyond the couple of years from a lone mind or group to publication- sooner or later someone comes up with say a candle design and someone will make it even if I in my hobby thought it impractical to manufacture or sell.  A rainbow arch with a small wick on the top- oh I made some to see physically the design in my head.

Cohen at Google recently described a vision of what this new technology can mean for us and in that dream of a virtual world I find many ideas I foresaw with lesser resources and more limited technology not yet proven. He has not seen some things I did- namely the way to navigate such a space as we seem to touch the elements around a holograph like virtual vision of it...  The higher brilliance or genius is not in the mere connection of resources of content that it assumes something like a design with higher sentience- nor in the quality or even rationally of such resources.  It is in the frontier of resolving technologies in that they can in a wider scope share the reality and dreams between those innately part of the system.  I does no real good to limit our modeling of physics to narrow visions in the defense of which there is no end or even a necessary limit by the expenditure of effort.

The freedom to design and inquire in our creative world can be this central grounding of methods, ideas, particles, waves, and so on wherein if we must reduce things or hold them forbidden to our intellect as a matter of fact or faith, comes from the more general and foundational idea that at some place, coordinate like in the Omnium of all space we should limit our concepts and contexts without consideration so ignore what is at the grounding of it our ideas of rest and motion.  This is the complaint we should raise if we want to convince the world we were not evil or in acting as if we are being seen struggle with the idea there is no necessary wisdom in our watchers no matter how we feel beyond the fact of just being here as to if there are watchers or not.

I made a casserole, like a decade ago we called old flavorite, burger, mac an cheese  tomato sauce  a poor or prison food I hear some still carry on to this day but called it - and the term spread around town like a meme- old f*rt or just we are having F*rt tonight.  So, with my discovery of spices I tried to make it for old time's sake, but like whistling  Al Capone I saw merit in the Mediterranean diet.  So I styled it "Guido".

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