impboy

imagine me as a line.

a sorta straight but slightly bent line with a starting point somewhere in the '70s and an end point somwhere in the hopefully distant future. but of course, something parallel to me that i can barely sense follows me all the way through and stretches out forever and ever. it repeats and folds over in an array of beguiling, troubling and unknowable patterns, and hopefully, my path will intersect with it when my race is run.

and of course, there's a dot. she's well-rounded and always makes her point and of course has her periods. but through her shines the universe and a glimpse of that something parallel to me that fills me with awe and humility.

trouble is, she has this thing for squiggles. i can't blame her. i have my dalliances with them. but you know she's better than that.

but it's alright, really. all sorts of shapes and patterns emerge and erupt all over anyway, as a whole universe creates itself in front of me. like stephen wolfram's simple games in a holographic universe, whole realities only start with small things. they have to be allowed to run their course. they have to happen. the minute someone starts writing a bible or koran about it, you know there's going to be trouble.

the moral? same as always: to the vector go the spoils.

love.