i always seems to find too little falling stars'
worth of poetry in the night -
the prolonged tedium of day -
given to the challenge of the night -
sometimes leaves one less observant
of the actual night, and sloppy in observations
during the day...
   i took to the second liking of e. e. cummings
today - mind you:
only the selective poems from years x
through to years z -
   but then he's much more than ted hughes,
even with his crow...
              never quiet the τετραματια fiddling
of the glass marbles -
                of both huginn & muninn -
        like the graeae: the three blind witch sisters
sharing a single eye -
so unto odin - the eyes of huginn & muninn -
in the cauldron of odin's empty socket...
  the τετραματια feeds the paganistic observation
of the gods, of the one they call the
demiurge in human tongue -
            and since there's talk of twins -
as akin to h & h -
                                or rugby goal posts -
           the τετραγραμματoν is best exhumed,
best seen, with half of one sense missing -
for one eye for the graeae to share -
   four eyes of huginn & muninn share gouged
eye of odin...
     that eye surfaced in greece, while from
farthest north came the perplexity of
the merged four.
               yet i still can't believe people could
establish e. e. cummings are writing
orthographical poetry - by sImplY writing
like: and not like, what otherwise is
orthography (i.e. the need for diacritical
marks) -
                   **** in slavic, i.e.
the proper orthographic is: gówno -
             it's not guwno -
that's orthography - but nonetheless i like
the quirks of these poems, hidden, sometimes
lost, most of the time uncherished.
nonetheless, less observant during day
makes for a cul de sac of what is to be written -
unlike, say, spending the night
backwards & forwards between future-present,
future-past, past-and-present,
    future-and-the-immediate-past...
to bewilder myself, as any theory might
allow -
       to travel at the speed of light -
well, for one thing light is not a propeller -
at this stage of our understanding it's a storage
component of energy - hence speed of light
square -
               squared meaning it's vast in expansion,
but not in being contained and allowed
to trickle out of its storage unit of speed of
light cubed to perfect a source of stable energy,
and, from what i gather -
it's not a propeller, because the equation doesn't
treat the speed of light in linear terms -
        and light is not a propeller, since the object
is dragged by a solar-sheet of panels -
it isn't being pushed!
     can the speed of light become a propeller
if someone managed to mingle the speed
of gravity into an equation, that begins with mass?
back to the future are always the films to
watch over and over again -
for any insomniac - who decided to not do
a 32 hour stretch of being awake...
        as is this other bewildering fact:
if time is linear, it can only be linear
   in a converging parallel linearity -
       perhaps best represented by 0 & 1
points of origins - sine & cosine (can't
remember if respectively) -
    but to enforce a time travel concept where
the two expressions of time do not
intersect at certain degrees - converge
and then diverge - well, would we be given
the concept of choice, with only one choice
to be had? in fiction time travel is
           represented by some sort of rigidity
of a never converging parallel linearity (=),
and given this model, a single convergence
of this model is represented by (≠) -
      which means the beginning of the end -
as they say: waves... waves...
              this travels in waves, this doesn't...
then of course there's already talk
of matter, and antimatter -
    as there was in the early church by someone
with the same prefix -
        but if the two personas didn't
exist simultaneously in the same pocket
of time & space -
   then they could only exist in the same pocket
of time, but not space -
and if they could have existed in the same
pocket of space,
                       they'd be family;
history is a straight line, history is a singular
timeline, but even then there's the
dimension of: with or without hindsight -
the what if line of history...
                and they never run in a = parallel
fashion, nor do they meet in a ≠ fashion either:
for that sort interaction is a dead end
upon their first and only convergence...
       much like vita coeo mort...
  and only then - only then does this concept
of time work...
        space travel is impossible,
for the other already stated reason in trigonometric
terms of the continually interchanging
   parallels between the sine dynamic and
the cosine dynamic...
but enough science fiction,
  they gave this other movie only 3 / 5 stars,
billy lynn's long halftime walk -
now we all know the classic military movie,
the gruesome reality of warfare,
     the blood, guts, swerves of shaken nerves,
the barbarism, the madness,
   the unjustifiable motives...
  not this movie...
      this move was worse in reality,
to any platoon, full metal jacket, saving private
ryan, apocalypse now i've even seen...
it's precursor? american beauty and
colonel frank fitts...
                  these movies are stepping stones
to a movie they should actually make:
24 hours in a slaughterhouse -
i'd love to see humanity humanised a little
bit, by first watching about a dozen cows
get slaughtered: after all...
cows don't cry mama, they're poker faced
when addressing pleasure, and more so
when addressing pain, poker-faced tsars...
      but this movie, mmm hmm mmm...
absolute horror...
notably when they get shoved and punched
off the stage,
   and this guy being persuaded to by his
sister to ask a doctor for a notable discharge,
and almost doing it,
    prior hooking up with a cheerleader -
the ******* she says about god, jesus,
"connecting" - and then at the last minute
he says: let's run away together!
  and she replies: but you're a war hero!
you can't quiet the army.
   to be honest, no military movie can provide
the absolute horror of a soldier
returning from war for a brief spell between
tours... but at least when they fight
adrenaline does the talking, returning to
a police state where any violence is condemned,
after these guys just shot a *******
bazooka into a building?
   strange realising that p.t.s.d. is not actually
concerned about what you saw in battle:
but that you didn't realise you had it in you
to do what you did... to then expect to
go into a mental institute that society has become...
honest to god,
they can give this movie 3 stars out of 5 -
by far the best military movie i've seen -
        like i said - no point glorifying war
and engaging in solely the graphics -
                after all, the berserkers were real -
and making **** jokes in the army like
they make shower jokes in prison?
                 plus, the farce of the entertainment
industry is masterfuly attacked -
then these 7 guys are given
"army instructions" on how to become props on
stage, and they're like: what did
this choreographer just say?
  i can't explain it, you just have to see it -
the real horror remains back home -
      the real home remains in the horror;
i guess the only soldiers that will ever fit
into a snug place in society are the ones
   used for state functions, like funerals of
politicians, or the ones that have their pictures
taken with tourists...
       paper soldiers...
      met combat soldiers once...
drunk like skunks and outcast...
          one thought i looked at him funny when
he recanted a story of being *****
by a massive arab...
                 but yeah... the queen's guard:
take the tallest, the most handsome,
   and you have yourself an army of pedants.