Theatrical, thoughtful, and mind bending short stories and essays. Primarily useful for being found 100 years from now and turned into a smash hit on a virtual reality holographic cable channel.
Available in digital format and paperback.
2003 Infinity Balls
Balls: Infinity in every direction: if infinity, then all things that happen or are, happen and repeat an infinite number of times. Else; Infinite variety is the rule. Basic laws and repeated patterns in form on any level of the infinity presuppose an infinite variety solely, at least so far as our logic allows us to perceive.
If all things repeat an infinite number of times, they do so in both size and time. This is the first division of the infinity into form, as size and time can be considered separate forms of infinity. Only together are they the undivided infinity. The complexities are not and cannot be fathomable. The infinity itself is the only full description of the infinity. Representation of this infinity thought of as the infinity inside itself is a semantic misunderstanding of modern number theory. This semantic representation is not necessary if the logical effects of an actual, not theoretical infinity are taken into account.
If infinite in size; then at discrete points on the stream of size every form in infinity (an infinite number of forms) is repeated ad infinitum. There is the oft dreamed science fiction literature which imagines the entire known universe being but one particle in a blade of grass in a dimension immensely larger than ours. This is quite correct, except that it occurs an infinite number of times for every single blade of grass in that field (for it is just a small part of our universe again) and for every form existing in the infinity (an infinite number of forms). The infinity is not spherical anymore than what you see standing between two mirrors is spherical. It can be imagined as an infinite curve of repeated forms. This curve is intersected by the curve of the infinity of time. Another way to directly experience something like the fundamental phenomenon of the infinity is in audio feedback loops. It is quite simplistic.
If infinite in time; then at discrete points on the stream of time every form in infinity (an infinite number of forms) is repeated ad infinitum. This logical result of the existence of time has been famously expressed in a number of eastern religions. The description is quite simplistic. Otherwise, the behavior of the infinity of time is quite like that of size. The interaction of time and size (which at our point in the continuum is often seen as the relationship between mass and energy) creates directionality in the infinity. Albert Einstein’s description is quite apt. As mass or size increases, time slows, and vice versa. The speed of time can be infinitely slow or infinitely fast. As far as is known, however, the speed of light is a constant. This constancy need not necessarily place limits on the actual experience, or extant effects of time on the plains of movement and sentience. It is simply the rule of halves in actuality. The closer an entity comes to achieving the speed of light the more mass it must contain, greatly increasing in a sense its relative size, inwardly or outwardly. Even though the speed of light may indeed be constant, the gradations towards this speed are infinite in number, and as these gradations shrink in calculable difference, the difference itself becomes exponentially more recognizable in effect on the object involved in the traversing of the gradations. Therefore the infinity remains intact. To repeat more succinctly, there is a direct correlation between the increasing smallness of the steps towards the speed of light and the increasing resultant effects on the object that is accelerating. I.e., each smaller step in turn has a greater effect than the last, and the end point of the infinite continuum, the speed of light, is never actually achieved. No constancy can disrupt the infinities, and as such are merely centrifugal points on the continuum. As such, one can imagine a sort of dimension wherein nothing can travel slower than the speed of light, but only infinitely decrease in mass and the speed of time as it approaches that point.
<This part sucks> If infinity in time and size, time implying an infinity of sorts in speed and size implying an infinity of sorts in space; then dimensions of the popular sort in scientific, quantum and string theory literature are not only unnecessary, but completely naïve and stupid. It goes to the point that the entirety of the quantum sciences, and all of their myriad children such as string theory, are completely constructed on the basis of an inability to measure reality beyond certain points on the continuum in size and time. In other words, they are completely full of shit, however useful and correct they may be in operatives on a quite limited section of the infinite continuum. The quantum science and their children can be likened to a primitive species figuring out our conception of electricity by being able only to encounter one telephone pole. Whatever they can figure out is very useful as regards the telephone pole, but it really has nothing to do with a national electric power network. Dimensions then, are merely various points on the infinite continuum of size, or time, wherein a semi conscious being may recognize a spherical limitation of their corporeal experience. </End part that sucks>.
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2003 An Old Man
I’m already an old man or I once was an old man and I’ve just recently remembered. As it is my memory grows more with each passing day about being old and bald and fat and tired and my back hurts and I cannot stay up late on weekdays and I cannot sleep in on weekends no matter how hard I try how late I stay up my internal 9 to fucking 5 clock jerks me open and breathing by 9:30am on Saturdays and 10am on Sundays and that’s just a pain in the ass. There are benefits, however. I can sip whiskey like it was tea. I can ingest incredible levels of alcohol with street trash and in less than six hours later I can speak to highly important people making ridiculously expensive and important decisions, for example about hundreds of thousands of dollars while I periodically pick out the sugar boogers from my internally bloody nose. And it blends in perfectly, because there is a secret pact among the old that nose picking is perfectly fine when there are no young people about – it’s a secret you must grow old to know – the young have no idea – they’re fucking morons, the lot of them. Ok I lied about the whiskey, every now and again I do make that little face people make when they taste whiskey. Go figure. Returned from figuring. The quiet is like knives to my ear. I am forced to write because I cannot get an internet connection to finish what I was doing elsewhere on this machine. So whilst I wait for the airwaves to clear and connect me to the world, I bitch for you. Yes for you this is not for me. Ok I lied this is for me, but it’s for you too, you sick, twisted fuck. Drunk alone dead. Absolutely not dead, more or less actually. Fuck. I can now finish for now for there is no finish until you know when. I will speak of trees and flowers and the beauty of life and positive thinking. The beauty of the illusions. Ok so I’m not actually speaking as I’m writing this but then I’m not actually writing as I speak of this. Writing is a form of speaking but speaking is most definitely not a form of writing, you belittled fart knocker. There is no hope. Hope is the built in self-propagating ignorance that enables an intelligent, self-aware species to function with the knowledge of its own death, and moreover and more importantly, its very, very apparent and real true insignificance. And yes spell-check did that word for me for I no longer have to remember how to spell it unless I’m in a fucking Bee. And I’ll never be in a Bee because I don’t really like honey all that much, unless it’s from the French Alps, les villes fleuries, and those fuckers sting. I just learned that a simple left-click will dismiss those fucking annoying bubble pop-up start menu fucking things as my computer shifts in and out of wireless internet connectivity on windows XP, although it still fucking shifts the focus from this fucking word document goddamnit. I just added my own particular spelling of goddamnit to the Microsoft Word dictionary. You know, I won’t be in the history books but fucking Microsoft will. Goddamnit. None of this is true. Now, finally, I am a bit drunk after fifteen dollars including tip at 8:51pm on Monday, October 30, 2006, and the fucking coffee shop is closing and I have to go home where I will watch TV and wait to fall asleep. And this isn’t even a page of my cathartic thoughts but maybe if I hurry I can fill up a page and this is great hunt and pecker typing practice because I refuse to learn how to type for real because my hands look so pretty when they type, unlike those still, practiced hands of fuckers who know how to type. No dancing, the fingers just tremble oh the music has stopped the end.
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