He sat stroking her hair and enjoyed the cooling sensation of this new stillness, in this room, looking out of that window.
“You speak and all images I previously conjured spoil. That delicate lustre fades. Your silence once disappointed me so and I longed for correspondence. From the very beginning, you and I, we enter a bitter… sweet… consenting entropy.”
Quickly he responded: “Nothing my love.” Pushing a finger firmly on her lip. “Not- a- thing” and once more took up the windows view.
I’ve now gotten rid of everyone who knows me, bar one. That’s everyone who really knows what I’m actually like and can spot my tropes.
I didn’t mean to. That is to say, I did it intentionally but not because I wanted them all gone. I did it for myself and my sanity. My attachment style feels something akin to pinning down a big cat with a bed sheet. Or, that’s how it feels to me. I’d both love and hate to know what its like for the other person. But they know that, so (tragically) they don’t tell me. I never stop loving someone that I make to know me. Even if I don’t talk to them anymore I feel their presence as strongly as though they were just in the next room.
But they knew that I was just pretending that I’ve matured and I’m not really as manic, as lascivious, as controlling, as narcissistic, as demanding, as lonely, as easily provoked, as childish. I was trying to pretend otherwise and it was making me miserable. I’d keep it up for a couple of weeks at a time and then I’d explode in the worst tirades. Every good point I’d accumulated was dashed against the rocks. I’d pray they didn’t talk to me, some days, because I was completely unbearable and I wouldn’t have been able to shut it off. Those are my good days, when the wizened gargoyle that is my soul, is singing, striding, dancing. Ideas are coming like waves and I wont let you sleep because there’s things to do/think/see/explain and you must do it with me. That’s when I’m alive and happy- when I can just be that and embody myself. I know I’m a gargantuan bell end. I’m exhausting. Give me everything or go away. But I want to be good.
I have normal “friendships” with people I don’t love, who will describe me with verve, as entertaining. But then, I won’t consider them for months. If you can get me to spend time with you, I’ll enjoy myself thoroughly and I have to remind myself of this for the next invite. Go out, go see them. Go instigate another controversy that will take you a year+ to live down. Deal with that girl who became obsessed with you. Don’t worry about that person that clocked your smile… There’s a pattern.
I just want to be me. I’ve let bits of myself die for others before. Or, I thought I had and they grew back. Recently I looked in the mirror and that demon was back and was smiling at me. I recognised myself again. Marvellous! Did you get bigger? Younger? Stronger? Of course you did. I’ve gotten worse. “Can I be this overt?” I asked the “bar one”. I was told “Yes. That’s you”. And I’ll take that from them because I never made them know me. I never got a say in their perception of me, they just know and don’t care, so they are one of the few people I can tolerate.
So, fuck it. Lets see what happens. My love goes with you.
Falling out and back into friendship with Quantum Mechanics
From as early as I could think/fear, my sole pursuit was firmly an existential one (to many an equilibrium shattering demise). I rotated on my own axis and set my gaze on the philosophy of physics. Now, I use that term very loosely, because what I actually mean is that I decided to try and construct a theory that would collaborate what I knew about quantum physics, alongside the phenomenon of probability and the macrocosm of daily experience. And I was determined to do this without researching any theories already in circulation. In my mind, there was no name for what I was doing other than that it would be a fun thought experiment. I simply knew that I didn’t like string theory and while I am certainly not a mathematician, I hated the bazaar leaps that the casual listener was expected to accept. At least hint to me, how you came to that conclusion? After some reading, the leaps were still too great for me and the idea of the multiverse left me bereft. More-over, it didn’t have any meaning or consequence, and that was infinitely worse.
There might be as many as 11 dimensions, or perhaps there are infinite dimensions. Kill me. Just kill me. Or better yet, don’t, who knows what will happen then.
On a side note (all these alternately colored bits are side notes. You’re welcome.); I almost lost my shit when I watched a documentary where the physicist said “You think you know what time is? Well, its like foam on the top of your coffee”. No explanation… I appreciate that this documentary was for general viewership, but really, if you’re going to say something so lacking, just forgo the subtitles all together, for an equally unsatisfactory experience.
My last 10 years have circled the drain of this. The key contributors that I felt should become tangible and explain that which we experience, as a measure of my own personal satisfaction, were: Wave function collapse, the properties and functions of “dimensions” in a meaningful and simple structure and how these gave way to probability.
Then what? Maybe just some peace of mind…start that cult I was always… Can a cult/belief system be based on theoretical theory, devoid of morality and deities? A nice segue though. Do I care to inject religion into any of this? I don’t. I enjoy it from a fictitious stand point and love to write about god and the devil but they have no real place here. I’m happy to go way out there with Jung (I often teeter on the edge of “lock me up and ready the hypodermic”) but there is no god or devil or good or evil. There’s just evolutionary pros and cons. Do your shadow work, boys and girls.
Regarding dimensions, I felt that the clues already existed in common language. We already knew how to symbolise them, even if we couldn’t truly envisage them. Just as we know what 1 million is as a number, but would fall short of envisioning what it would look like, if it were, say, a bag of marbles with that count. There was no need to go off on tangents that always implied a parallel space time when we spoke of anything but our third dimension. They are all here, intersecting, and we get clues about them through geometry and through what we know of the dimensions that we already see and the exponentiality of properties as we go from 1 to 2, from 2 to 3. There’s lots to it but these were the first steps.
Two things gave me satisfaction, that I discovered later, despite my reluctance to read excepted theories. The first was Carl Sagan’s explanation about the flatland’s. Old as it was, it was new to me. The second was hearing that String theory had been sidelined (thank you, universe) for a geometric theory that looked at how higher dimensions were clued to us. I was vindicated in convergence, in my own sans-calculator fashion.
This second injection of satisfaction, on the geometric theory, came up in my youtube recommendations one day. A little perturbed about the lack of explanation on some counts, I was quite impressed with this snippet and so when a second documentary was put out, I watched it. Half way through, they discuss the observer and their effect on the measurements of the old “is it a wave or a particle” (double slit experiment) and I was suddenly quite terrified by a thought: That if they keep “measuring” (quantum entanglement etc), could they change the universe itself?
I can’t help but feel that releasing the findings/probabilities will effect the outcome of future measurements, by virtue of the preconception. As the conscious observer, can you influence the result seen?
Yes I understand that a probability is a mathematical fact that shouldn’t be effected by preconception. Whether it comes up heads or tails is always 50/50, given enough coin flips. But this comes from a place where the observer is ineffectual. Quantum mechanics has proven itself, already, not to be so simple and so ambiguous to consciousness or “laws”.
What if probability was self willed? “Well, I didn’t see a green horse yesterday so my chances of seeing one tomorrow are slim to none”. And you’re creating that reality yourself? Second by second, moment by moment. And you’re doing this alongside everyone else. Together.
Will might force our own conscious will upon it and what will that do to reality? Is chaos what we have right now, or what we might incur?
Its a curious thing to think that if this were true, that the universe was being created, second by second, based on perceived and self driven probabilities, that anyone who’s probability values strayed from the general consensus, might be capable of seeing and experiencing things that others cannot. They would be called mad.
It also leads me to think of Baader-Meinhof and (back to Jung) synchronisaties. Yes well, of course you keep seeing that thing now, because you saw it once, and that increased its probability of occurring again in the universe. ………..
I’m satisfied now that I don’t and shouldn’t continue trying to perceive what others are doing much better. I find myself, now, turning to playing devils advocate with it, and considering the implications. Go from the how to the “And if that’s the case then…”
“You had me thinking… What do you say to translating foreign poetry, then stretching it to the nth degree of the thesaurus to create new meaning? We can make it a new art form. So for instance, with Holderlins poem:
Isn’t my heart holy, more full of life’s beauty, since I fell in love? Why did you like me more when I was prouder and wilder, more full of words, yet emptier? Well, the crowd likes whateer sells in the marketplace; and no one but a slave appreciates violent men. Only those who are themselves godlike believe in the gods.
Would you deny that mine is a nucleus divine,
further gorged of animation’s seduction,
in view of the fact that I plunged in worship?
How is it, did the alien one resemble I increasingly
when I was conceited and feral,
extra complete of tongue, nonetheless barren?
Thriving, the swarm is appetitious to whatsoever solicits in the
bazaar; and no one but a gimp
exalts sadistic men. Only those who
are pure have confidence in the Masters.
The ever present notion that “someone else has already said it better” is not merely defeatist but defeating. It not only knocks our pride before it rises but halts intellectual advancement. Many educated individuals that I know partake of this derogatory attitude. Is it to empower themselves by showing they are able to choose a reference from their memories on any given subject? To show that their education is such that they have near googleline powers of reference? We know that an encyclopedia itself is not the intelligencer, just as we know Google is not the source of the “knowledge” it imparts. And yet educated man pushes forward this illogical idea, every day. When a man says “I am Freudian but I don’t like his theory on dream analysis”, he departs to us that he is “post Freudian”. My point here is that education should function to bring us to “post” state, that will enable us to progress. There’s a small difference between saying “I can give you information on the subject that might help you develop your ideas” and “That subject has already been widely covered and I can give you the theories which are acceptable” and yet the consequences are tangible.
You only gain validation from idiots for projecting the work of others as your defining decoration. Take a few of your own ideas down. Promote your own name or else no idiots, after you are gone, will do it for you.
Sleep must be a foreclosure upon the body and the day, I’ll run a tongue on you again if I must stay awake. And I’m a nuisance or a pest refusing to settle down, taking up a pen and writing on your thigh the cartography of nomadic language landing at the eyes And a spread, machine of the mise-en-scene, savouring the after-sense of where you should have been. Yes, you.
I cannot tell you, as it may not be appropriately conveyed in language or rules of thought. I have tried to teach you this. However, I can show you precisely. As an exemplar of that stuff that exists in the dwelling between two people as they preserve each other. When I say I adore you, I adore you in the fullness of your dwelling, as you exist, in the always-already of my name, the in-potentia of the becoming’s and in my care. And with my strength of force as flourishing.
But at times I see you as a pearl of stillness. Your stillness breaths by carrying out the bearing and the enduring of a silent opera. Perfectly and appropriately remote. Motionless. Remaining on the side that rests. The distance engulfs as an appropriation that shines forth. And then quite remarkably, we come closer and closer. Thus the intensity, the captured moment pins us against the wall of that dwelling. And so we dwell together.