Leaves and Strings

We see a leaf in a tree. It is beautiful, simply as a visual representation. If we examine, investigate and measure the leaf there would be some that say we have damaged its simplicity. I disagree. There is nothing wrong with simplicity and there is nothing wrong with measuring and defining. They are just different views of perception.

We can apply a multitude of methods to investigate such as algebra, geometrical, biochemical, its symbiotic relationships and so on. A leaf is a leaf and it is beautiful. A leaf can be much more and still beautiful.

When it comes to string theory I understand about 1% of what I read. A current view of the “string theory” is that the universe exits in eleven dimensions. We perceive the world in three dimensions plus one. An object has height, width and depth (three dimensions). The plus one dimension is time. Time is a coordinate in geometry. If time is a coordinate, then instead of three coordinates to describe a leaf, we have four coordinates to describe any object. So our ability to investigate has four dimensions.

And the other seven dimensions? They can be partially represented mathematically. The math works but our ability to have scientific verification is not there yet. So STRING is a theory. We lack the ability at the moment to prove whether STRING is a true or a false representation. Research with particle accelerators may be able to verify or dismiss STRING in the foreseeable future.

The site http://superstringtheory.com/basics/basic4.html describes string as follows:

“Think of a guitar string that has been tuned by stretching the string under tension across the guitar. Depending on how the string is plucked and how much tension is in the string, different musical notes will be created by the string. These musical notes could be said to be excitation modes of that guitar string under tension.”

If STRING proves to be true then the elementary particles of a leaf can be thought of as musical notes that emit a specific vibration.
A leaf is green, it blows in the wind and it is beautiful. A leaf according to STRING may also be a series of musical notes in this magical universe.

Bobby (Whats Shakin') Bacon

How Wet Can You Get

Should I go swimming, I wondered. Sunday early afternoon. Where was that program? Couldn’t find it. Such a quiet day. No one around. Nowhere to go to. I looked at my bike. I looked at the dog. Dog looked bored. Ahhhh. He can’t come swimming. Maybe take him to Monarch Woods. Good idea. Maybe on the way, exchange those beer bottles for money. Then they won’t take up space anymore. I didn’t seem too warm for a dog. See how it goes. So out we went. Up to the beer store. Passed the garden center. Maybe stop off there later, see what sales are on. It started to rain a bit. Mmmmmm, did I close my windows? Was sure I didn’t. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

On a railing, close to the store entrance, I tied the dog. Dry spot. Went into that ice palace. Brrr. beer stores are cold. Had to wait a bit. Heard thunder roll in. Got my exchange money, turned and saw one thick sheet of rain. Ran outside, freed soaked dog ( name is Simon) who looked a bit panicky.

“May as well come in,” said a man in the front hall of the beer store, waiting out the storm with a case of beer. I did. As always Simon became the subject of conversation. Instantly adored by most who see him. The man, a typical beer drinker, told me about someone who breeds golden retrievers and how great they are. No argument there.

I looked at the sky. Pure blue in the direction of my place. The other way, coming from Waterloo, black, threatening clouds without end. “We may as well go, Simey”, I said, and we stepped into the downpour. We ran across the parking lot to the entrance of the “New Canadian Super Store.” Wasn’t going to hide there, was thinking about open windows at home. No ambition to go into the Garden Center either, anymore.

Folks hiding from the rain under the overhang of the super store looked adoringly and with pity at Simon, water streaming off him. “Ahh,” said a man, “You are the only one I feel sorry for.” No matter that I was dripping too. Simon and I jogged on. I ran into the house first to close windows. Luckily the rain had come straight and the damage was minor. My bed wasn’t wet at least, nor the books under the bathroom window. I grabbed two big towels from a shelf and threw them over Simon, rubbing him as close to dry as I could get him.

“Well Simon,” I said, throwing the wet towels in the washer and getting out the hair dryer, “I think we both went for a swim.”

the Demon Trap

There is a blogger demon in my computer. Three times, I tell you, three times, I have put heart and soul into starting a new post. Thought we had milked all out of Da Vinci we could. And I wrote a piece to the very end. Checking deftly for typos and errors. Finally satisfied, the blogger demon reared its ugly head and ate my blog before I could publish it. Gone. Disappeared. Not to be found in the deepest bowels of the computer. I shook it. I tried to trick it. I swore at it. I pleaded with it. Nothing. Nil. Blank. That demon is tricky like my cat. Cannot be found if it doesn’t want to be found. Many times I cannot find my cat. Even though I am convinced that I know all her hiding places. Even though I search all of them and more. even though I call her, try to lure her with food, the cat is somehow spirited away. And when I least expect it she will suddenly sit in front of me with dreamy eyes, like a little Buddha, innocent, alluring, pointing at her dish and making me feel guilty that it is empty. Nah, that last part isn’t true. But hey there is always fiction in truth and truth in fiction. Right? But you know, the demon never shows himself. Is it a male demon? Of course it is! Why? Never mind. I have decided. The demon is forever evasive. Cannot be seen. Like the face of God. According to Jewish scripture and C.S. Lewis. The demon is the scary, negative side of computer technology. Computers, I always emphasize, have me in total awe on one side, and scare the hell out of me another way. This electronic technology holds heaven and hell in its bowels. Makes me happy often, and makes me swear at it probably more times. Gets out the demon in me. That’s what demons do, right? In dreams, they say, when you face your demons, they fade away. That has worked for me. But my computer is not a dream. And there is a demon in my computer. HELP !!! Maybe I should make it fun and design a “Name The Demon” contest. There is a theory, I think from the fox in “The Little Prince”, that when you name things you tame them. What do you do with a tame demon? Same things as you do with a drunken sailor?

Ha! I did it. I wrote it in the Word program and copied and pasted it. See if it goes through now.

The Da Vinci Code...

When I travel, I like to put Tuesdays aside to watch a movie. Why not? CSI is still two nights away, and the buzz I get from mowing the lawn on Sunday has worn off, leaving me feeling empty and angry inside. Movies fix that.

Pushing my atheism aside, I decided to stretch my mind and consider a film that put into question all I knew about the last two thousand years of history and religion. Unfortunately, Cars was sold out so I bought a ticket for The DaVinci Code instead.

The film was good. Not great, but good enough that I only thought of McRib eight times. During the normal course of the two or three hours this film ran, I would have thought of McRib as many as thirty-two times. This film held me. In fact, I was only consumed by McRib Compulsive Disorder once during the movie, at which time I left the theatre, drove to McDonalds, and was reminded that McRib has not been on the menu for many years. I drove back to the theatre but I think I was out when they were talking about religion or something, so I felt lost for quite awhile.

By the end of the film, I was filled with such hope and awe that, within forty minutes, I had given some of my money to a stripper named Mary. Or Lexus. She was speaking French, so I’m not sure what she was saying.

Everyone should see this movie.

- Art Lane

Five Years old & Fifty Years old.

When I was five, I played in sand with dump trucks.

At fifty, I'm playing in sand with dump trucks.

The difference is...

I spend more time playing with dump trucks now than when I was five.

This top shot is the job site a few days ago.

The bottom shot is an artist's rendition of what we hope it may look like.

This is where my is mind is at least 45 hours a week.

When I was five had less time for construction.



Bob

Oh, That Henry Miller!

When and where does creation cease? And what can a mere writer create that has not already been created? Nothing. The writer rearranges the gray matter in his noodle. He makes a beginning and an end -- the very opposite of creation! -- and in between, where he shuffles around, or more properly is shuffled around, there is born the imitation of reality: a book. Some books have altered the face of the world. Rearrangement, nothing more. The problems of life remain. A face may be lifted, but one's age is indelible. Books have no effect. Authors have no effect. The effect was given in the first Cause. Where wert thou when I created the world? Answer that and you have solved the riddle of creation!

We write, knowing we are licked before we start. Every day we beg for fresh torment. The more we itch and scratch the better we feel. And when our readers also begin to itch and scratch we feel sublime. Let no one die of inanition! The airs must ever swarm with arrows of thought delivered by les hommes de lettres.

From: Nexus, Chapter 16

There's more. He was just gettin' on a roll. Larry sez: Read It! Look at that face. Sculptured, like some Mongol (as he says) in disguise. Look at that lantern jaw. Dick Tracy stands in awe. How could you not read it?

For those of you who don't know, aside from all the sexual folderol, Miller's novels Sexus, Plexus, and Nexus are really about his struggle to be a writer (and his crazy life with Anais Nin, called Mona in the books.)