And to add, my favorite piece of music:
4'33" click to listen
I love how they tune up beforehand; the performance begins promptly at 1:35.
It demonstrates that nothing can't last forever, but it can seem like it.
Nothing: we fear it, we welcome it. We so fear that the universe is so full of it that we must predict, to say ahead of time
[even though the law of parity (concerning the existence of mirrored states) was declared illegal in 1957, my teenage friend--
seeming reincarnation of my own teenage best friend Lee on altho sax--told me in the cornfield.
It was the International Geophysical Year. Sputnik beeped.] yet we welcome it at the end of the day.
...predict, I say, to say ahead of time, that there must be dark--occult, meaning unseen--forces at work to hold matter together,
when nothing, over a long period of time, would accomplish the same result toward binding the galaxies together.
Nothing was the original thesis of my book, but alas, too short and unable to substantiate or replicate, unlike humans.
Its anathema is music.
In some parts of the universe, beings fear its coming and are paralyzed in stopping it; you can't, since it's nothing--
it is the war of the wind and the silence, cancelling each other out--
the background noise to the Big Bang, and the only problem is, we're not listening.
In terms of social mores, the global conversation, irrelevance has reached its peak in nothing, not listening to the elephant in the room.
As mirrored in the Forum--and this is humorous, mind you--relegated to an obscure topic of epic proportions, buried in HUMOR,
just above the body of DNT UNDRSTND
and I can only guess that what I'm saying is, to quote that scholar of Chinese philosophy Buddy Emmons,
'Those who say don't know, those who know don't say.'--to indicate that I know nothing,
nothing.
What does all this mean? The irrelevant--the elephant, my hi school/college friend Lee called it--
the myth of fingerprints, Paul Simon sang, to Lee's "Footprints, handprints, fingerprints, [whistles] 'Here Prince, here Prince....'"
'They were all over us,' The Luz, our other companion of the Marco Polo Church Exploring Club told me later... yes, they were all over us.
'Remember, just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.'--Don London
It's nothing, we say, hoping that it will go away, blowing wind against the silence, fanning the blue flames war
on the empty battlefield of psyche--but I digress. To be serious for a moment,
we have collectively only identified where we are; that we don't understand must necessarily be glossed over,
there just isn't enough time left in the universe to answer our plaintiff--oops, plaintive--questions.
It's all nothing, but the reverberations of the Big Story, a bright pebble dropped into a dark pond,
scattering little lights into a dark sky, the vast darkness of, to quote Jimmy Carl Black,
or perhaps Eric Estrada: 'Blank.. empty.. space..' referring to Zappa's tapes, but I know he means 'out there,'
beyond the universe as we know it, endless room for expansion,
nothing to stop it, much like Zappa, and little Moon Unit One.
-------------------------
I fear that my posts can at times signal the death to a thread--I cannot call it causal, only can call 'here Prince'--
but one can always hope. The motives of ID and its monsters, here on the Forbidden Planet, not to mention your neighbors,
who were pods only last night, and they're communists...
... are as dark and dank as the daffy doings of the steely ship Forum--
I mean, form, the racing form, here it is, Pavlov's Dog favored in the third....
4'33" should be over by now. I think the only proper applause would be the sound of one hand clapping.
