A Hole

Cameron asked: “Speaking of straws, whaddo you think: one hole or two?. how ’bout no holes at all, merely a rolled-up rectangle?”

I replied:

  • An infinite progression, a continuum of holes. A designated empty space surrounded by matter that is itself empty space bounded by energy fields intersecting themselves. A pipe, a tube. A TUUUUUUUUUBE. It’s all tubes, man! The circle of poo. the food goes in one end and comes out the other, and within the food the tubes are twirling, twirling, gyrating and jumbling, tubes swallowed by tubes inside tubes.
  • One hole, two holes, rolled up rectangle, all the same situation just using different models for the purpose at hand. It’s just a model.Everything exists because something is missing. The gravity, dude!, the gravity of the cavity, some say it’s our depravity, and some just gotta have, ya’ see.The holes, the holes, the usefulness of bowls. A bowl is half a hole. The effort takes its tolls when we seek to fill the souls by burning all the coals and wreck our ships against the shoals.The straw is the hole between the holes. A designated doorway deemed designed to bring us more way.All of life is consists of moving things from one place to another. That’s what straws are for. The holes we place. The usefulness of holes. A whole lot of holes, but no hole is whole.
  • The holes make us go, and the going is the whole.
  • In the beginning was the hole, and the hole met the whole and the circular motion was born. And there was light.
  • The light at the end of the tunnel. One night I was driving through an underwater tunnel that was lined with white tiles and lit by bright lamps and when we got near the end I could see the dark at the end of the tunnel.
    • I have a hole lot more to say.

The Stuff Dances

The set of atoms that were contained within the geographic boundaries we call Marko Gregorič when you started reading this sentence is not the same as the set of atoms contained in that space now that you have got to the end of it.

But I don’t think Marko is atoms. I think he’s an ever-changing flow of relationships among atoms within fields, living with perdurance in a gunky world. 🙂

One time I said, “Bodies, bones, skin, meat… buildings, roads, bridges, piles of garbage, … dirt, shells, petrified wood, fossils… all of these materials are the wrack, the beach wrack, the accumulation of material carried by the waves and currents of the process of life. What Spinoza called the substance, what Schopenhauer called the will, what some people might call God, or chance, or motion, or energy, all of life consists of moving stuff from one place to another. The stuff accumulates. The stuff begins to think, the stuff sorts and directs, shunting material here or there, some of the sorting is conscious, much of it is unconscious. The process continues, swirls, eroding stuff from there and depositing stuff here, building tissues that think and those tissues build houses and in those houses the tissues direct the accumulation of materials to form machines that direct the flow of energy and materials. It is a process. When the life leaves the material it leaves behind the stuff, the mass. A dead fish hangs in a tree and dries, leaving skin and bone in the shape of the life that was a fish and is now again pre-living, post-living, stuff.

All of this stuff is left in patterns for a time, temporarily, like the line of accumulated seaweed, shells, driftwood, and garbage left on the beach at high tide.”

Marko Gregorič replied: “Matthew Osborn for me it’s all matter reorganising itself, using a negative entropy inflation, causing some sort of strange ever changing order.”

He said, “Consciousness is not human. Man is part of consciousness.”

“Man is part of consciousness” like the drum is part of the beat.

The bud is part of the twig, the twig is part of the branch, the branch is part of the tree, part of the dirt, part of the earth, the air, the everything, and we all dance.

The stuff dances.

Why Would I Miss You?

Why would I miss you if you’re so bad?

Do I miss the you I imagined?

Do I miss the idea?

But I can have all the ideas I want

without having anyone here.

Maybe you’re not all that bad.

Maybe you’re not ideal or the worst,

like everybody else.

Do I miss my ideal image of you?

Do I even really miss you?

Do I miss my idealized image of me;

an image of me as a man who misses you?