The logical shotgun:
4/20/2006
Misc reflections about reality and things comprehended by self.
1
A shotgun. Deadly at close range, but as the blast travels a distance–the pellets spread out. The puncture of a nail point punctures the flesh, but the flat end wouldn’t stab you near as easily. Each time, each end, the same amount of force was applied, but this is a question of concentration… So, do I really need to concentrate deeply and intensely about the problems in my life? What about a sort of “shotgun” of facts and thoughts, spread out in an area that touches on more then one side of a subject? Or perhaps it trails off, and looses the structure of any sort of essay? My grammar is politically incorrect. I suppose modern art is ugly, too.
2
A lack of revenge is a lack of “justice”–hence we see “mother earth” die slowly, because life will destroy what it needs. Why? Oh why, if I could only understand, then perhaps my fear of this vast problem would be less powerful then my ability to act? Nay. But I ask again, with limited and perhaps misplaced courage, for there are many sorts of courage, some deadly, and some life preserving. Why, Oh why, do I destroy what I need most? Because it cannot cry when I kill it, thus I watch it die with a neutral and bland sympathy–or lack of it, and I watch it die–like a boring day, a passing day, a rotation of the earth, each day unique and I’ll never see such a thing again. What a boring–vastly complex, un-stimulating only upon the un-insightful surface, sort of day it was–now symbolically stored within my brain between a few neurons. And I’m the only one ever to see this day, in my own way, and never again will I see this day. Boring, because of how many of these days I’ve had, just like the boring mass of billions of people on earth, now less exciting and stimulating then their own death on a news report. So, I’ll also look back at something else–something that I need, something that I can’t get back, and something that I will squander–almost suicidally. It was what I needed, it’s all around me, it’s “life”–anything I could ever do. And I was ‘created’ “in the image of God”?
3
Perhaps a subject is like a string, and a fact being a dimension? This one string can lead to another. Imagining a vector having a certain and eventual collusion with the end-trails of another vector–only within an assured space of infinite vectors. A spider spins many strings, then catches a fly–intimately holds it close after a quick spin of entangling re-curved vector, and it’s kiss means a puncture and injection of digestive fluid. Eventually, what’s taken back into the spider is the entire body of the fly. How much more so, a friend? Perhaps this web of facts can catch a new and unbiased mind, then with a quick redirection of fact and opinion, what was given becomes what was taken away–all be it–everything now taken, and nothing left but a memory and an external shell, to hard to fully digest. And I’ve wondered more then once, if this was my soul on earth…
4
A crystle shattered, though gradually formed. An ice crystle hanging down. Strange how something that all life needed–pulled in a direction–could become sharp and cold. But it happens every winter, and is a question of condition. So I’ve wondered, is any evil man more then an extension of his origin? The effect of a cause? The end of the means? Sweet pity, your almost as sweet as… as insanity. The ideal world saves you, it doesn’t kill you. But which was it that created everything that you have, and which was it that said “no”. Hence, we must say “no” to anything and everything, once it reaches a point which we’ve somehow stopped tolerating. It’s a strange thing, this intolerance. In the right hands, it is a just and honorable society, but in the wrong hands, it is tyranny, hate, oppression. Then again, I’d hopefully not be too near sighted here. Saying “no” is not always a solution or a problem. If engineering is an expert working with a complex process or technology, then who–or what–is a man that can handle, understand and properly direct his own life? It’s hard to write a book about it, but there are more then a million books about subfactors of this complexity–called “life”. So, how “wise” is “wise”? When do we stop tolerating the claim that we are stupid, and inexperienced? What line will be drawn, and where? I suppose that same line–is the vector destined to collide with the end-trail of another, within an infinite possibility, and also the string spun into a web. To engineer an infinite possibility, to built what has never yet been built, to question what has never been known before, and to stop and think about everything that ever was, is and will be, how “wise” is “wise”?
5
No. Here is where I do not tolerate it. No, I’d easily say again. “Wise” itself is much like “no”, in that it can be ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But the vector that was the thought, that made the web, that touched the second and the third perpetually, this vector and direction is the only thing that can solidly be ‘good’ or ‘bad’? No, because it can be misguided. So, what other then this? Well supposing that the vector was a cause, and the endtrail was an effect, perhaps also the vector now causing, was originally an effect, much like a segment of the multiverse, or a mother’s child. This–was it chaos, or curve? What is the limit of knowledge? How “wise” is “wise”?
6
Perhaps it no-longer has anything to do with a limit? Perhaps it now has to do with relativity? I’d rather eat a potato then a rock. I’d rather know the relative, instead of the less then relative. But what if it was more then relative? What if it was as valuable as the scalar concept of potential change itself? What if it was faith and persistence in your own thought creation ability? This is hardly predeterminism… But as soon as you know the unknown, and imagine what does not yet exist, you have “created”–and this can never be predetermined, because it never was.
