Category Archives: Theory

The 35s (in six easy pieces)

A novel that’ll never end that I’ll call The Unfinished novel.Energy can neither be created nor destroyed but can be transformed from one form to another.

Q: If energy is neither created nor destroyed, what happens to the energy within our bodies and brains when we die?

A: If you’re presently grieving, don’t read this…

What was the question again?

Q: For a start, how is the existence of the other universes to be tested?

A: We need an open mind, though not too open.

A: Parallel universes may or may not exist; the case is unproved.

A: I think the contemplation of the multiverse is an excellent opportunity to reflect on the nature of science and on the ultimate nature of existence.

A: These are only possibilities, not certainties, so the Theory is never really put at risk.

Sunday Morning Coming Up or Warm Heart Pastry

So this guy wakes up at 2am. He’s thinking about a song by Todd Rundgren that may not exist. He doesn’t have a song stuck in his head, just the subject matter of the song—people who come to to your house and spill stuff and, I may be paraphrasing: “dropping their ash on the my floor”. He can think of two other songs that deal with this issue. Mike Heron’s Warm Heart Pastry and then there’s that Liz Phair song and he’s 99% sure there’s an Incredible String band song too Continue reading Sunday Morning Coming Up or Warm Heart Pastry

Murder He Blogged

tree with no leaves in moonlight3 am by the fire
 – fri, 03/06/2009

The fire is roaring. It’s turned up all the way. The dogs are sleeping.

If you like, you can imagine that I’m smoking a pipe. That’s what I’m doing. Imagining. And reading. I don’t have any favorite books but I have several favorite paragraphs. Like this one here. I’ll read it to you. Not the whole thing. Just some of the best words and sentences. I may be paraphrasing. I don’t have the book in front of me. Now relax.

Generally anyone feels secure on familiar grounds, but the theoretician is not quite certain that he won’t get lost; while others have no difficulty moving around, he gets entangled, having difficulty ignoring a feeling of confusion which he is first inclined to attribute to his own limitations.

Where I live is not the city or the country. I’m not old, but I’m not young.

I’m outside now. It’s not cold. I would go inside to turn the fire down, but I’m tangled in the bramble.