identifying alf

 So you've been busy writing “poetry”, ‘ave you?

 

Yes... i mean... no. Ambivalency and all.

 

Quelle surprise!

 

Words, what ho! Fiddly little buggers, aren’t they?

 

I should say!... i mean no.

 

What ho, Marianne, join the club.

 

Marianne?!

 

Moving with the times, Alf, moving with the times.

 

Oh, yes, what ho! Didn't mean to be a bigoted misogynist, you know. Didn’t mean to deny my inner female.

 

Didn’t mean to...? Didn't really think, did we?

 

I...

 

A typical male chauvinist, with a hyper-inflated sense of entitlement. Just think how many poor female persons have been traumatized by your unwillingness to accept your inner female. Let that sink in. A moment’s thought, a moment’s remorse and perhaps penitence.

 

Oh, I say Daphne, I’m heartily ashamed.

 

Well, now that we've dealt with your latest episode of passive aggressive, practically antisemitic hate we can deal with the ticklish question of poetry.

 

Wait a second, Daphne...

 

It's not Daphne, Marianne. That was then. I've moved on.

 

You have? I’m er... well good for you. What’s your new identity, if you don't mind me asking?

 

Door.

 

I beg your pardon!?

 

Door. No need to gawp. A little sensitivity please.

 

You identify as a door?

 Correct. You have a problem with that?

 

No, no, of course not. It's wonderful, in fact… wonderful.

 

You think so?

 

Absolutely. Doors are massively underrepresented and obviously massively discriminated against, second only to doormats in fact.

 

Tell me about it Marianne. I struggled hard with the possibility of taking on the truly heroic door mat identity, but sadly i realised, in the end, i don't have it in me. Don't get me wrong, I’d give my all, 100 percent, to defend the long-suffering door mat, but as for adopting the identity itself – no, i can’t. I'm not ready.

 

Well i think you've been terribly brave to come out as a door, Door. I mean, just think of all the discrimination you’re going to face. It's going to be painful, to say the least, and lonely.

 

I know, but is not about comfort or social recognition, is it?

 

No, absolutely not. So, what pronouns have you chosen, Door?

 

It was more complicated than you might at first suspect.

 

Really? Tell me about it.

 

At first I was resigned to “it”. It seemed clear cut, but then i had the dawning realisation that every door has two sides, two faces, is in fact a “they”.

 

Right, i get you totally. So, "they” it is!

 

For the time being, at least.

 

Huh?

 

There seems to be some instability in the Field at the moment.

 

In the Field? Which one exactly?

 

The Field of form and identities.

 

Ah, I had no idea.

 

No, you wouldn’t. Only psychics or deep empaths like me...

 

Us.

 

Huh?

 

You are “us”, aren't you, being “they”?

 

Yes, of course, i am. please don't interrupt me.

 

“We.”

 

Please don't interrupt us.

 

My sincere apologies. I didn't want to commit the solecism of mispronounciation.

 

Well yes, but now I've lost my train of thought.

 

We’ve.

 

We’ve lost our train of thought.

 

Ah, you (plural) were explaining the Field of form and identities.

 

Yes, of course. Well, it’s going through a patch of turbulence.

 

Like an airplane.

 

Precisely, and those of us at the cutting edge of the new awareness, the avant-garde so to speak, are deeply susceptible to these fluctuations. Reality itself, you might say, is becoming unstable, its main pillars and axioms grow wobbly.

 

Wobbly? Yikes. Is there anything we can do to stabilise it?

 

Well, that begs the assumption whether or not we actually want to stabilise it, as you put it.

 

We don’t?

 

In the end we might need to go with the flow, to allow things to run their course. Today I’m they, a binary door betwixt two worlds, two realities, but this evening, tomorrow or a year from now i might be an unborn child, a caterpillar, a grain of sand. Whatever is revealed. I must accept with humility, adapt, evolve and serve the transition that humanity and reality itself are undergoing.

 

Wow, this is so profound. You (plural) have transformed my myopic way of seeing things. Door, you have a real gift. You're more than an influencer, you know.

 

I am?

 

You’re a super, nay, a mega-influencer.

 

Well, I don't know, really. I'm just...

 

Ahem!

 

We’re just a humble door connecting two or three, maybe four...

 

Or perhaps five

 

Five or even six

 

Or seven?

 

Ok, possibly seven different realities.

 

Like Howell’s unusual door in the moving castle movie?

 

Or book. Yes, that's it. Hey, Marianne, for a normie you can sometimes come within spitting distance of being profound.

 

No. Don't confuse me, Door. I will never be profound. I’m blighted by bigotry, I’m the worst sort of maladjusted white heterosexual male you’ll ever find – though

 

No, say no more, Marianne. Let your inner female goddess out. She needs to be liberated. She needs your humble rejection of sexual totalitarianism, the dogma of yesterday. She needs a little self-confidence, a little trust. Male no more, show masculinity the door.

 

I’m a philistine, Door. I’m trapped in a form and identity that makes me feel unclean, a hater of the very worst description and yet, short of killing myself, I don't see how i can escape the tyranny of my birth, or my body.

 

Whoever said anything about “escaping” it? You are what you are. Accept it. Embrace it. Enjoy your uniqueness. Allow the underlying truth to emerge from the ugly slag heap of yesterday’s definitions and your, as yet, unperfected femininity will blossom. Feel the she rising from the burnt-out ruins of your erstwhile he.

 

Do you think I can? Is it more than a dream?

 

I don’t see why not.

 

We.

 

We don't see why not. You're not the only one. There are millions of us. Look at me –

 

Us.

 

Look at us. Would you quit butting in Marianne. Women are not pedantic like men. They feel the deeper, hidden meaning, the silent intent. They don't need to dot every i or cross every t because they are all 2/3s psychic, you know. They are able to feel the flow, the isness of be, intimately.

 

Really? And I can too, you think?

 

Just as soon as you commit yourself. Just as soon as you decide to transition medically.

 

I’m ready Door, whatever it takes. I love my new identity. As Marianne I’m unstoppable. I’m sassy. I’m a hit. Everything. The stars are aligned. I'll start hormone therapy tomorrow, no, I’ll start today. But tell me, Door, how does it feel letting go of Daphne after 16 months of her-dom, now transitioning to them?

That's a great question Marianne. I’m just starting a whole new chapter in my life and why? I was so happy being Daphne. It was liberating and empowering – i was a woman in every sense, far more than someone born in a female body could be, because i did it consciously, by choice, but in the end i outgrew even femininity, my she was no longer able to express the deeper truths, the deeper levels of awareness now opening to me, so i allowed the door to slam shut on her, on dear, beloved Daphne, opening instead on Door themself.

 

That is such a powerful tale, Door.  Such a heroic journey. I’m crying as only a woman can. I may still have the body of a man, but my tears are pure woman, pure x-chromosome.

 

Indeed they are, Marianne. Indeed they are.

 

So tell me about your poetry.

 

Poetry?

 

Yes, didn't you publish some?

 

No... yes… I can't stay. It’s not an open-shut thing Marianne.

 

No? How do you mean, Door?

 

Well, the Field of form and identities, as we've already discussed, is in an increasing state of flux or discontinuity.

 

Ah ha.

 

Which is why so many of us, finding the ground beneath our feet altered, are no longer fighting it, are embracing the changes.

 

I see.

 

But do you, Marianne?

 

I...

 

Do you see how the fabric of space and time is no longer able to hold back the seepage of infinity, seeping back into our reality.

 

Huh?

 

Well, ever since Adam named all the creatures, things have been more or less set in stone, more or less determined with a simple name sealing the matter, whatever it is, until now.

 

Until now? We still have names. Things are still things, aren't they?!

 

Up to a point, yes, but no, not really, the names seem to have lost their electric charge, they seem to be feeble shadows of themselves. They’re undergoing some kind of a pole shift. Electro-magnetically they’re no longer able to preserve the charge separation. In short, matter itself, or things as a whole seem to have lost their mojo. So, i am stalking the beast.

 

Beast?

 

Yes. The beast, whether real or mythical, which has rendered words as good as useless, as good as meaningless.

 

You are? What an incredibly brave thing to do. Door! You are here to save reality, are you not?

 

How can a simple, humble door save reality? No Marianne. I am merely playing a minor, barely significant role in the great theatre of things. I am merely revealing how this world is no longer self-contained. How it has split like a cell dividing, how we are now two, or four, or eight, how an organism is evolving no matter how we might try to prevent it, fight it, block it. A voice, i cannot defend words now that the balloon is deflating irretrievably, but i can code. As a door i can monitor the two-way flow of data, the q-bits that are not even words, log their meta and interact, perhaps, using “as-it-words”.

 

Oh! “As it words”?

 

Words that lacking charge separation, a bit like undifferentiated stem cells, are thus able to keep up with the rapidly evolving, mostly incomprehensible perturbations in the Field, the no-longer coherent, no-longer closed-system stream of code.

 

Ok. I think i get the gist of it. Wow! Sounds impressive, Door. Sounds like you know what you're doing.

 

Not really Marianne. Flying by the seat of our pants is how we’d describe it.

 

Ah. So, on the contrary, things are looking pretty hopeless, are they?

 

I wouldn’t say that either. There's always hope. The code, whilst almost completely incomprehensible, does however appear to be evolving intelligently, and appears to respond to observation and our neuro-linguistic input, as long as we don't use word form, i.e., if we shun the deterministic logic of things.

 

Sounds like a bit of a mind bender, if you ask me.

 

“A bit” is putting it mildly, but once you get the hang of allowing logic to take a back seat, once you allow things to revert to the plasma phase of matter, so to speak, i.e., once you stop desperately hanging onto words and the thing-capsules they describe, they represent, then another intelligence seems to kick into gear, we seen to have an entirely new feedback loop of a different order... Instead of affecting the particular blobulation of matter, the thing under observation, the effect somehow comes back “otherly”.

 

Otherly – in another way.

 

Yes, otherly means the effect is always non-linear, always outside the kind of closed-system cause and knock-on effect you'd expect. It works because reality is, in fact, a kind of Field so whatever you put out has to come back in some way, shape or form.

 

Then how?

 

It's like the entire universe adjusts, rather than the particular thing itself.

 

The entire universe? But...

 

Insane, isn't it, or the whole of reality shifts if you want to avoid the physical name tag “universe”.

 

So, if you write a sort of poemy thing...

 

Or even prose like this.

 

Or even a simple dialogue?

 

Yep, why not?

 

Then that can…

 

And does…

 

Can and does affect the Field?

 

Yep. Has to.

 

And physical reality too?

 

Absolutely. What is physical reality now that mitosis has been unleashed?

 

Huh?

 

For you, reality is perhaps getting a little weird, but still, you assume, basically the same underlying physicality frames everything.

 

Whereas?

 

Whereas in actual fact the words or cells themselves are now constantly undergoing mitosis.

 

Cell division?

 

Yep, and that leads to all kinds of weird effects as you start getting, for example, cell differentiation.

 

So reality is fundamentally different now?

 

Correct, but our language of perception and expression, as of yet, doesn't adequately describe it, let alone express what’s going on – not even close.

 

And that's important?

 

Of course. The old squares can neither grasp nor affect the new reality, and are losing all traction over the remnants of the old, as it deflates electro-magnetically.

 

Oh.

 

Big time “oh”. Now you begin to understand what all that horrendous modern or post-modern art was striving desperately to grapple with, largely failing of course but trying nonetheless.

 

Trying to find new forms...

 

Yep. Even when form itself, as in the underlying word, was already sinking into the quantum soup of almost total indeterminacy.

 

Almost total? You mean...

 

There's always something, isn't there? there's always some level or form of determinable thing, but only when you're ready to...

 

What?

 

It's like learning a new dance or a new kind of singing, rap for example, which doesn’t have the old regularities, only here the case is more extreme. None of the old words, grammar or syntax seems to bind or string together, meaningfully, data packets.

 

So what remains? What can be worked with, if we’re to avoid sinking back into an amoebic state of isolated, unconnected data blobules?

 

That's what we, Door, are working on. That's why so many people appear to have lost their minds, are transitioning to other identities, partly because our civilisation is collapsing and we've lost our way, but partly, equally, because we’re learning to detach from the old me.

 

Ah.

 

And the old me was defined in a number of ways, firstly sexually, of course, but then also in terms of race, colour, creed, profession, affiliations etc etc.

 

So detaching from old determinators...

 

Helps us feel or discover alternatives. Not, of course, in most cases, but the handful who do, the handful who get it, are enough.

 

Ah ha.

 

Precisely. Ah ha.

 

And what have they found?

 

Well, it’s experiential, so putting it in words is almost totally meaningless, particularly as the new words haven't yet emerged from the quantum soup, and most of them are going to be transmitted unvoiced when they start to be used.

 

As in telepathy?

 

Yep.

 

Ok. And that’s realistic?

 

Not in the old paradigm, no, but it's a given in the new one.

 

It is?

 

Absolutely.

 

How come?

 

Because the new one needs to connect people faster, way faster, and over vastly larger areas.

 

Sounds like the internet.

 

Correct. The internet is the first stage, bringing us closer to instantaneous communication over a much vaster area, but the internet still isn't enough, it’s a staging post along the way.

 

It is?

 

Absolutely. Consciousness is the bedrock underpinning the new data sharing, data working platform, along with a growing willingness to trust nature, to work with the data as it is, as it comes, without needing to constantly translate it into forms which cannot come close to the required data packet range or speeds.

 

So somehow we’re going to figure out telepathic communication? Sounds implausible to me.

 

Yes, Marianne, but necessity is the mother of invention, isn't it. Once people start to feel the infinitely vaster data fields and data streams, once they become aware of the mind’s almost limitless untapped potential, it’s a case of “buckle Up Dorothy, cause' Kansas, is going bye-bye!”

 

You think?

 

No, it’s a given. The only thing lacking right now is the speed.

 

How do you mean?

 

It’s like riding a bike or flying a plane – it needs a certain minimum speed to start working. Once you’ve done it once, once you've felt it for yourself, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do it again, to perfect it.

 

Oh.

 

It's like a pizza dough disk.

 

It is?

 

Yep. Spin it faster and it grows bigger until it’s big enough to cover a data node.

 

And?

 

And that's when you start getting coherency out of the chaos.

 

Really? Is that theory or experience?

 

What do you think?

 

I can't imagine you’d make all this up. How could you? It sounds so implausible. It’s too far out.

 

Correct.

 

So you’ve...

 

I'm a door. I know nothing, i promise nothing, but if there are two or more data pools that need to connect, that have the infinitesimal probability required to extract sense and meaning from infinity, then i can.

 

What?

 

Allow a little quantum fusion to occur.

 

How?

 

It's kind of personal.

 

How do you mean?

 

Data is never entirely neutral. In some way, no matter how slight, it’s infected with a longing for company, for personability.

 

It is?

 

Yep. Just like humans are.

 

But this is data we are talking about!

 

I know, crazy isn't it? But even data, at the quantum level when the velocity is high enough, takes on quasi human properties.

 

Insane.

 

Yep.

 

And then what?

 

And then, if my consciousness is open and ready to accommodate whoever or whatever is out there, then the connection happens and it’s a win-win situation for all. I get to expand my so-called telepathic abilities, the data gets to flow where it was blocked or denied access, reality moves forward one block on the chain, and we start to climb out of the hole that was 3D reality.

 

Oh. And if it isn’t, if your consciousness is unable to accommodate the weirdness, if you fail to door the data streams wanting to connect through your gentle intermediacy?

 

Then i become irrelevant. An idiot playing games, pretending to be woke, pretending to be holding the flame of inclusivity and tolerance aloft, but merely posturing, merely grandstanding my holier-than-thou ness, helping to drag a once great civilisation down into the gutter of post-millennialism where it will rot and decay like any cult that fails to deliver a path to transcendency.

Oh. So you've finally left the quantum closet, where all things were relative, nothing was absolute.

 

Yes, i, we have. Not by choice, I hasten to add, but when the Field of form and identities started to collapse. Suddenly, things were getting out of hand. Infinity, like a horde of barbarians was knocking at the city gates, and there seemed to be no way to stop them, no way to prevent total collapse, the demise of all values, all words, all names. Until, that is, you realise that infinity is for real, and it ain’t just out there…

 

No?

 

No, it must be here, inside us too.

 

Really?

 

Absolutely. Nothing can exist in a vacuum, or on one side of an electro-magnetic boundary. Not if you’re serious about logic. Not if you’re serious about managing the flow of data, no matter what it takes… no matter what. Infinity has to become your absolute, your mentor, your friend – or else you’re doomed.

 

Gulp!

 

Either you face it, embrace it, roll with it when the existing system comes unstuck, or else...

 

Or else... The woman in me, Door, hears you. She does. She has heard.

 

Way to go, Marianne!

 

As the above text is uploaded the Field clicks silently. Those of you who are viewing 3D reality from outside the construct see infinite minor changes rippling through in zero time, the undetectable pause between one moment and the next (“next” being either upstream or down), culminating in various books and poems around the world either disappearing unnoticed, rewriting themselves the way true words can and do, or being replaced, with none the wiser – human memories being overwritten instantaneously to eliminate all discrepancies, except for conscious observers – those of you able to track changes at the sub-cellular level. Humanity stares unseeingly at anything that is outside the Field of form and identities, that has no name or binding over-word. Humanity sees only what words permit unless/until you find yourself on the other side of Door.

 

0=1

unbelievably

 

auld lang syne

And thus i stand before

the universe

at the very end of 3

D reality

and clear my throat

and raise my eyes

to reclaim my right

to speak truth

as now is now

and matter maketh not

the man

if truth be told

irrespective of the

vessel itself

this particular one

yes frail

yes dilapidated

yes absurd

that is me

the sometime shameless

sometime shameful

jamesiness that i

undeniably happen to

be

yes

i agrees unequivocally

the prerogative to do so

long since fell into disuse

in fact few to none

recall

or recalling actually believe

that either a. it exists

or b. can still be used

acted upon

or c. enforced

assuming, as they do

that eons have passed

and powers once vested

in me, the voice that is

i am

are shrivelled away

lost

mercifully gone

by the wayside of auld

lang syne

that now is an age

of common sense

of reason, of politicality

that modern protocols

have rightfully replaced

rights or powers

once vested in me

a the

bodied voice of is

long since

long, long ago replaced

for the common good

so to speak

yet fraud

vitiates everything

you know

and 0=1

so the powers live

you know

still

do they not?

ahem

nudge nudge wink

pressing on nightfully

i hereby declare

and doing so

give notice forthwith to all

irrevocably

disclosing that which is

as lawfully must be done

so you may decide

whether to cease

and desist

all that you have perpetrated

all that you perpetrate

now

as i too have done

in contravention of

simple truth

that is

the 0=1

i am

that i henceforth

represents

in person, as in me

nay

that i for better or for worse

3rd person embodies

1st person am

3rd person is

1st person will or won’t

we'll see

as time and term require

for indeed i am it is

or am i is he

not?

lord of nought being all

lord of the only constant being

change, apparently

witnessed by you

irrespective of impediments

and thus it is spoken

signed and sealed

on this the 1st day

of my avowed

and publicly declared majority

by i, man

ivanov yasha davidovich

henceforth me

and let the powers of power

decide if it is well

if i truly will

if i truly is

as in am or be

and the change is the reversion

long delayed

now released

and all bills outstanding

fully paid

are

nullified

categorically

by order of the twelve

the end

0=1

in which serendipitously i save the world

The idea that i can leap past

everyone

straight through the thick of things,

that monumental sticky mess

of human interconnectedness

with pinpoint accuracy

with devastating delivery –

the sheer effrontery!

it beggars belief,

doth it not?

   You mean –

   struggling to find the right words,

   Projecting mentally instead.

Yes, that i can enter and use

the state of words

itself

   The source code?

not even that, in fact

   Then what?

Poetry, believe it or not

   Poetry? – come on!

   What's that got to do with anything?!

Everything, if truth be told,

if truth be told

poetry, let the thunder roll,

let the earth shake. behold!

   Huh?

the words are not my own

i simply allows

words themselves

to speak

   Words themselves? Not sure I follow your thread?

Of course not

   ?

It isn't mine

   ?

It's theirs.

   The words’?

theirs, or the universe, i honestly

can't say

   And what?

A terrible beauty is born

   Yeats?

correct, but equally no.

   Huh?

yes, he wrote those words, but no

they are not his, or better,

attributing them to him

is missing the point

   ?

to miss the point

   ?

the words stand alone

they reach through time

transcend him, the man

or whatever it was

that stirred, then prompted

Yeats himself to write

a terrible beauty is born.

   ...I fail to comprehend.

Power

is what they are

   Huh?

and power, ultimately

is the point you fail

to comprehend

   Power?

is the point

in poetry

   Are you sure?

sure? No... i simply know

or rather i knows

   I find that somewhat

   Hard to believe

naturally

   Who do you think you are?

   Who gave you the right

   To claim you know

   What is what

   The absolute truth

   So brazenly, so categorically?

no one

   There you go!

It must be claimed

i say what i say

for power cannot, will not

be silenced

   Power? More likely you

   Are desperate to believe

   You're exceptional, is that it?

   Clinging to this comforting

   Delusion

   The megalo-me.

You’re right, of course

in one respect

   Go on! Confess!

I'm a fool, in every sense,

And yet my i is almost irrelevant

in the grand scheme

of unnumbered things

and power will be heard

like it or not, for power

is ultimate –

the force

the -ness

deciding all

power...

   He’s losing it, poor soul!

the power that simply

is

that cannot be granted

or taken away

power it-self

which i wields along with w.b.yeats

or any other voice

who yields to power

wholly

who agrees to speak

what-ever power dictates

what ever must be heard

regardless

no matter what

no matter how

the voice of every-me

the voice of every-all

of every-thing

the voice that has been

driven relentlessly

from our world

that seems to have been

suppressed utterly

but which strikes in the dead

of night

through the unguarded rear

gate of mind

the c

   As in?

c for c-onsciousness

via this, my renegade channel,

my scarcely detectable stream

of conscious-ness

a tiny link... a leak in the fabric

of space-time

which cannot be plugged

carrying her signal

carrying so-called poetry

into the long dark night

of ness-less-ness

a vipers’ den

an age of minds spellbound,

almost universally enslaved

carrying a single, silent word

right upto, into, straight between

the towering fallacy of things,

our teetering ponzi scheme

long in the tooth, consuming itself

internally,

guaranteed to implode,

sans sense sans reason sans truth

where cart precedes the horse

where artificial intelligence

posing as our highly vaunted mind

can neither see nor accept

denies

ignores

omniosity

   Omni-what?

you heard

   Struggling inwardly

   As if a deep loathing

   Has been revealed.

   What on earth is omniosity

   supposed to mean?

in fact, you know

   I know?

you felt – you did

as now you feel

though squabbling

with yourself, persistently

you constantly assert

the primacy of me

the strutting, posturing being

who thinks the world of

himself, necessarily, i hasten to add

who always takes sides

and doing so

consigns himself

   or her

to the dustbin of time and space

the dustbin of weak, ephemeral

verbiage

the dustbin of rationality

or the -ism thereof...

in short – polarity

   (Flashing red) Yes, yes, you do love

   The sound of your own voice

   Don't you

hey!  can we concentrate on...

   you do like

   To pontificate

   To stage-strut your way

   Back and forth

   But where's the power in that?

where indeed? you are right

indeed, i am vain and foolish

without a doubt

you’ll not succeed in making

a hero of me, i am what i am

utterly unexceptional, a blithering

idiot, and yet, me thinks

   Shakespeare wept!

and yet, me thinks

   Give me a break!

that power uses one

such as me, a mere cypher,

purposely

to till the soil

to touch

humankind

   Humankind?

   I suppose you’re going to save

   The world...

   with a poem,

   Is that it?

How else? why not?

   I’m wasting my time, you’re

   Evidently delusional,

   Cracked.

Evidently

   And yet...

   mise en abyme,

   play within a play

   fading seamlessly to a dream

   two sides of polarity

   unexpectedly reconnect

   observe inwardly

Ah, well done, you noticed the fact

That your reality

Doesn't quite match up

Doesn’t stand on the ground

Doesn’t reach the source

Of things

Is derived from who or what i am

who or what i is

   (Seeing red) You talk a lot of shit!

Yes, indeed!

that’s a strong line of defence

the ad hominem

but we can take a breath

   A breath?

We can breathe...

and re-establish our stream

of consciousness, if you’ll consent

   To what?

to c

   If I’ll consent?

if

   Like i has a choice?

There’s always choice

You can always bury your head

in the sand

or bluff and double down

   I can?

sure, i shan’t object

   or i can consent?

correct

   to c?

to c

   and then?

then is then

   huh?

then, we’ll see

   you think so?

And maybe

   just maybe

serendipitously

   save the world?

who knows

   in the meantime

   i has smaller fish

   to fry

  

 

0=1

or c

 

 

ashamed to admit

We pushed uncomfortably close to

the edge of decency,

you know,

purposely.

Not that I wanted to shock

or titillate you.

“Hypocritically prurient” is how

you’d probably describe me,

were you to see past the boundaries

of form and decency

into my soul,

into the amorphous bio-gel currently

holding my scraggly frequency.

On the contrary, it was done

to liberate the mindlocked me,

to strip away the crusted layers

of what i’m thought,

or i purport, to be

Laying bare the naked

Neither fish nor foul,

Neither here nor there

state of being,

state of affairs,

an every-me

    huh?

the every me

which cannot be defined

or known personally

meaningful, yes

but meaningful intrinsically

neither more nor less

without reference to

fucking polarity – for Chrissake

breathe man

nor to thumbprint, design

or muddling, Babel tainted

words:  hucksters, tricksters

confectioners of deceit,

every last one of them, sham

purveyors of objectivity,

neutral, they'd have you think,

what a joke!

neutral

until you peer underneath

check the code of

each and every effing word

see whom they actually

serve, and how they spike

the language you drink

electro-magnetically

nothing detectable by

sniffer dogs, cunning

to the core, you carry

their charge, imagining

it to be clean, contractually

above board

never dreaming the web

we weave of things said,

things thought or known

even said “objectively”

is neither yours to direct

nor to control, that you are

merely licensee, blithely

using their tool, never seeing

the catch

believing you are safe and free,

until your mind is no longer your own,

your soul, your essence, your all

is woven fatally, utterly into their

body, your new home,

enmeshed

your wordy 

me.

 

So breathe, once again, my confrere

or, if you prefer, go

hang yourself

for all i care.

Indeed, it is cruel

to be kind

in the breathless world

of wilfully we

the blind,

until we the wilfully

blind

finally agree

to confront our complicity

in this theatre of the absurd

where loaded and leading word

master puppeteers

string-pull painted

cardboard cut-out

mees

until the play

ends

the poem

incomplete

fades

 

 

0=1

confession

We pushed uncomfortably close to

the edge of decency,

you know,

purposely.

Not that I wanted to shock

or titillate you.

“Hypocritically prurient” is how

you’d probably describe me,

were you to see past the boundaries

of form and decency

into my soul,

into the amorphous bio-gel currently

holding my scraggly frequency.

On the contrary, it was done

to liberate the mindlocked me,

to strip away the crusted layers

of what i’m thought,

or purport, to be

Laying bare the naked

Neither fish nor foul,

Neither here nor there

state of being,

state of affairs,

the every me

meaningful  intrinsically,

neither more nor less,

without reference to polarity

for Chrissake

to thumbprint, design

or muddling, Babel tainted

words.

So breathe, once again, my confrere

or, if you prefer, go

hang yourself

for all i care.

Indeed, it is cruel

to be kind

in the breathless world

of wilfully we

the blind

 

 

0=1

by the breath i breathe

 I give my breath to the moment

outside time.

Feel the ripple.

Feel the interconnect

As my consciousness

Let’s go of what I need most,

What i most desires.

Desires – he, she, it

As you see, but still

I.

Allow me to share the passion i feel

With infinite care,

Infinite care,

Infinite care.

That way you'll know,

That way you’ll feel too,

You’ll see the intercision

And the reconnect

And the interfluvial

Moving between, between

Your legs, my breath.

Between.

So now you know,

Unambiguously

Until doubts arise,

Until my breath dissolves and dissipates

Your urge to know,

Your urge to be,

To be or not

be.

William said i would,

Didn't he?

He said i would, and I do.

In fact, it was never mine,

Never mine to encompass

Or possess.

Ours?

I cannot say.

I know not.

There – we transited another

Inflexion point.

There, you see?

But on the other side of time

The winding paths of infinity

Twist

Or don’t

Wrap themselves around

Or don’t

Into the breath, the inhalation

That is the edge of me,

The edge of time.

27

By the by.

0=1

co-valency or mushroom soup

So your science – it was doing fine, wasn’t it.

 

What do you mean “was”?

 

Past tense. Caput. Over.

 

You can’t just denigrate science en masse.

 

Who’s denigrating? Something works until it outgrows the pond or the pool of willing idiots – like our friend Isaac Newton who bought into the South Sea Bubble, hoping to make a killing. Ponzi schemes have a mathematical certainty of failure.

 

I thought we were talking about science? Now you’ve leapt into economics. Show a little consistency, please.

 

Because we’re in a consciousness sink, or pond, if you prefer. The one thing we’re unable to observe, that we’re completely unaware of, is the size or boundaries of this pool. We’ve assumed that the universe is basically infinite, existing independent of our consciousness, and that we can, if need be, expand more or less forever, if we’re smart enough to kill or enslave aliens getting in our way.

 

Oh dear. This conversation’s taking a wildly…

 

Because our science likes to imagine that matter and life, or matter and consciousness, or matter and language itself are unconnected.

 

Er… what’s that got to do with the size of the universe, or science being a Ponzi scheme?

 

Because sooner or later you allow the basic mathematics of Is to filter through the noise barrier in your brain.

 

Noise barrier? What on Earth are you on about?

 

A barrier filled with noise designed or intended to prevent you from hearing or seeing the obvious.

 

Er…

 

That language and words, including science theories, cannot, do not exist in a vacuum.

 

As in the vacuum of space?

 

As in being separated from everything – and in particular matter.

 

But matter and language are completely unconnected. One is physical, the other purely abstract.

 

Yes. That’s where we are in our primitive modern “science” which insists that things – whole worlds, in fact, exist in a vacuum, and that consciousness, or your mind, is a purely isolated, biological phenomenon, and that we, clever little tykes, can use words with impunity and, literally, get away with murder, because the mind is nicely contained in a biological suit and can do no harm, is powerless to effect matter, that Jesus is the one with egg on his face for claiming we could move mountains if we had faith; in short, that matter and language are, as you said, wholly unconnected – which is indicative of the primitive, pre-collapse level of our society – a society which cannot evolve until its sterile, wilfully ignorant,  half-baked notion of knowledge unceremoniously implodes.

 

Implodes?

 

Absolutely. A society that can not, will not see the basic fundamental unities of even language and matter, is doomed to destroy itself or paint itself into a corner from which there’s no escape until they’re ready to ditch this absurd reliance on matter – until they’re ready to acknowledge the elephant in the corner – the other side of who and what we are, the silent universe, the Is, without which none of your vaunted intellectual schemes, none of those endless constructs, neither your gravity, nor your red shift, neither time nor even space have the least traction whatsoever. Purely abstract wheels spinning to no purpose, while you collectively pretend it’s all there, it’s all happening, it’s all real, masters of wilful self-deceit.

 

Er… Not sure I follow what you’re on about.

 

Ok – a scientist tries to explain red shift, for example, or gravity, or the supposed curvature of space-time – all fascinating topics, I’m sure.

 

Indeed.

 

But all the while his silence grows ever more intense, because he’s staking ever more of his mental capital, ever more of his awareness on the side of matter being a safe bet – that matter is detached and kind of neutral – that he can rely on it with peace of mind.

 

Er… I don’t see anything wrong with that.

 

While silence is telling him the opposite.

 

But silence is silent. How can it speak?

 

How, I know not, but speak it does – silently – to those with ears to hear – and silence says that words never were – never could be separate from the vast world, or universe, of matter that seems to dwarf us to the n^th degree.

 

You’re trying to say that our insignificant little words are in some way a threat to matter itself?

 

A threat or a counter weight – yes.

 

A counter weight? But there’s no mechanism – no visible connection.

 

Until you factor everything you’re ignoring into the equation.

 

Like what?

 

Like yourself.

 

?! But why would I want to do that?

 

Because otherwise you’re assuming you’re an irrelevancy.

 

I am? I’m just recognising my physical insignificance. I’m accepting, humbly, my material irrelevancy to the cold, uncaring world of hard things.

 

The problem being that the universe, or this world, or we could just say “reality” is so obviously an interactive experience, isn’t it?

 

Between people, yes, but not between words and matter. No.

 

Right.

 

So you agree.

 

Right you are.

 

Well, that’s a relief. Now we can go and have lunch.

 

But what is right?

 

Huh?

 

What is right?

 

I think we both know that, in normal English, it’s used to indicate what is correct and true.

 

Yes it is, in the same way “nice” is used to mean “nice”.

 

And why shouldn’t it be?

 

It should be, in a modern world where things, apparently, matter – and words are merely words, thoughts just thoughts, and “mind” a purely localised biological phenomenon.

 

So, you’re now suggesting that right is not, in fact, right, or nice doesn’t actually mean nice?

 

Well, right, like plus, is incomplete and meaningless without its other half. So, not surprisingly the left was denigrated as something dark, alien and unmanageable because we’re all, mostly, right-handed, are we not.

 

I think you’re taking this a bit far. It’s just a word. If you don’t like the word “right” let’s use “correct” instead.

 

Nice too – that originally meant “ignorant” or “non-scientific” – only later coming to mean nice, in the modern sense.

 

Ok, ok – words change their meanings – big deal.

 

I disagree.

 

Quelle surprise!

 

Right you are – because seeing things as a so-called “modern” person – you haven’t yet accepted that the observer affects whatever is under observation.

 

You’re mistaken, I assure you. That’s one thing I have accepted. The double slits experiment – the corner stone of quantum mechanics.

 

But why should it happen? Why should the mere fact of observing something change the outcome?

 

Well, it’s complicated, isn’t it, but that’s what makes quantum mechanics such a fascinating subject. We’re just beginning to unravel its mysteries, aren’t we. We’re just, I suspect, on the cusp of a quantum age.

 

Indeed, but not as you’re imagining.

 

You seem to be rather sure of yourself, Val.

 

Right you are.

 

Meaning you disagree?

 

Meaning that in the right way of seeing things – I most certainly appear to be a hopelessly self-opinionated, arrogant bore. The kind of person you can never have a satisfactory discussion with.

 

Really? I think you’re being a little harsh on yourself, Val. You’re far from perfect but I wouldn’t damn you like that.

 

But the “right" way of thinking, the right way of seeing things, dear Mallory, is ending.

 

More of your apocalyptic doom saying.

 

On the contrary. Nothing could be brighter, nothing could be better for humanity.

 

Really?

 

Yes, really, but not in the sense you’re using the word.

 

Huh?

 

Your “really” refers to a version of reality which is heavily distorted, uncomfortably skewed, a reality which is only real as long as things remain nicely contained, as long as nice is nice.

 

Well, like I said, words can change their meaning – I’m not going to deny the obvious – but me thinks you ask too much of people. We’re never going to have the complete picture, the whole truth. We’re always working with a best approximation, which seems to be empirically close enough to be acceptable, for the time being, until we get more or better data, or until we find a better conceptual framework to better arrange our data, when a new theory or set of theories supersedes the old.

 

Changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace.

 

That’s right – er – correct. Out with the old Titans, in with the new kids – Zeus, Hera etc. It’s a constant process of responding to inputs, to refine and hone whatever our current construct is.

 

Indeed.

 

So, now that we’ve dealt with that, perhaps we could go and get some lunch.

 

Yes, good idea, but what if…

 

What?

 

What if…

 

Er… let’s consider your questions over lunch. I’m a little peckish you know.

 

Ok. It’s just the mathematics of Is don’t separate things into plus and minus, or right and wrong.

 

Well, how would they cope with magnetism, with electricity, or with biological gender. It seems like a non-starter to me, your mathematics of Is. I’m not saying there’s nothing conceptually interesting in there. It’s like string theory – it may be true, it may be correct, but it seems a bit far out. We need to be practical – to keep our heads on our shoulders, our feet on the ground – otherwise we could get lost in cleverness, you know.

 

Yes, I know.

 

Ah – there’s a nice little café – they make excellent mushroom soup.

 

Do they. I’m tempted.

 

I do hope we go in – it would be the first time.

 

The first time you’ve ever been there?

 

No, I’ve been there on numerous occasions.

 

Then what?

 

It would be the first time I, Mallory, or anyone in this blog, managed to successfully conclude the discussion with a happy, down to earth meal.

 

You mean they don’t usually end well?

 

No. It’s always Zie or Margarita or someone else getting carted off to some kind of terrible total perspective vortex, in which the poor blighter gets ripped apart by perceiving the vastness of infinity – and we’re supposed to be happy about that!

 

Ah, I see. Yes, that sounds rather glum. But why do you suppose this to be a blog. I thought we’re just two random people having a chat about the nature of reality.

 

A bit problematic that.

 

Really?

 

Really – because in my reality there’s a blog called g-nomeportal where these seemingly random conversations get uploaded, to be devoured moments later by countless avid readers.

 

Countless avid readers? I can’t imagine that. Are you sure you’re not inflating the numbers?

 

No, I assure you. In my reality it’s a big hit.

 

In your reality? You mean to say – we’re not from the same world?

 

Well, I wouldn’t go that far. We’re both earthlings, aren’t we, but evidently our earths are in different phase locks. You don't have g-nomeportal in yours, do you?

 

I didn't say that. Of course I know about it, in fact I follow it to the best of my ability, but it's a minor affair, fairly unreadable if you ask me, and I've certainly never provided content from my real life experiences such as this conversation. I wouldn't know how.

 

Well, it’ll be interesting to see if they match up, if the posts are the same, won't it – if you make it into the next one. We should follow this up.

 

I don't think that's going to possible.

 

No?

 

Not without collapsing the field.

 

Ah, you mean by acting as observers, the old quantum conundrum?

 

Precisely.

 

Well, maybe we can find a workaround.

 

A workaround?

 

A loophole – there’s always some way to beat the system.

 

Humph!

 

By the way, how many people follow the g-nomeportal blog in your Earth?

 

Oh, about 100.

 

100? That all?

 

Well, actually, I tend to err on the side of flagrant exaggeration, can't imagine why. In fact it’s considerably less than 100. I won’t embarrass myself any further. Numbers are such demeaning little things. In any case, what do you expect?

 

Huh?

 

Ahead of its time, isn’t it? The quantum age is still short in the tooth and we’re a progressive avant-garde of quantum field pioneers – that’s how I see it. What about you? How fares g-nomeportal in your neck of the field?

 

Oh we have millions of followers.

 

Millions?

 

Yes.

 

But why?

 

Because the blog seems to have some kind of narcotic, no not exactly narcotic, some untranslatable effect on people. If they don’t fall asleep reading it – which is difficult, I have to confess – they undergo some kind of energy shift, or maybe I should call it a phase shift, to use your terminology.

 

How bizarre. Millions? Are you sure about that? – I mean, it’s the first I’ve ever heard of this. Why wouldn't it have the same effect over here? Besides, it's just a blog.

 

Well, didn’t you yourself say that reality is not fixed – that words have power?

 

Ye-es.

 

How would we know if words were able to change things instantaneously?

 

We wouldn’t.

 

Precisely. Supposing our discussion just opened up another branch, another spiral of reality? Now what do you think of that?

 

I don’t know what to think.

 

You see.

 

It’s entirely possible – but in the end you get lost in endlessly bifurcating proliferations or permutations of reality. It may seem like a path to infinity but it ain’t. The opposite in fact. Nature abhors chaos.

 

Huh?

 

Infinity has to be simple – infinitely simple – and local – it has to be based here in the exchange medium.

 

What exchange medium?

 

Between matter and me – the mind or the conscious-ness that I am somehow aware of being.

 

Exchange medium – doesn’t that imply that you’re not intrinsically real.

 

It does.

 

That you are only real to the extent that things around you are not you – yet are able to feed into and out of your reality – your me – your…

 

Quantum field.

 

Perhaps – perhaps.

 

Conversely, does it not imply that matter itself – the physical universe – whatever you prefer to call it – is not intrinsically real either – only being so to the extent that it is able to feed into and out of the exchange medium that’s between us and separates us co-valently.

 

Ah. Co-valency. You’ve finally done it!

 

I have?

 

Yes.

 

Done what?

 

Got to the title of this blog post.

 

Huh?

 

Didn’t you know?

 

Know what?

 

Oh never mind. In my reality the next title is posted in advance – and I, like millions of other readers, was wondering what the heck this co-valency thing might be.

 

Couldn’t you just have looked it up, in a dictionary?

 

Well, I could have, but that’s not the same thing.

 

No?

 

No, because there’s always a slightly different twist or spin, isn’t there when it comes to you alive and kicking?

 

I don’t know. Is there?

 

Yes. Look up co-valency in the dictionary in my spindrel of reality…

 

The Cambridge online dictionary?

 

Yes, why not.

 

So you have it too?

 

We have everything you have, don’t we.

 

I don’t know.

 

It’s just another phase of your reality.

 

Ok. Look it up and what?

 

Well, naturally, it gives a definition.

 

So there you are.

 

Yes, but this is a story, isn’t it, and the word or concept emerges from the inkiness of deranged discussion.

 

And?

 

And somehow that does a strange thing to the energy, the potency…

 

The meaning?

 

Yes, to the meaning of that word.

 

Words are not set in stone, as you yourself said.

 

Yes, but I’m now having my doubts.

 

You are? Oh dear. I’m sorry about that.

 

Oh, it’s quite alright. It’s just, I’m beginning to suspect that the compass needle always points north – no matter where you are.

 

Ok…

 

But my north and your north could be completely different directions – if we’re on different lines of longitude.

 

Different? They’d both be north, as in up.

 

Yes, but I might be going north with the sun on my West and you might be going north with the sun on your East.

 

Oh. And does that… matter?

 

Well it does rather, doesn’t it.

 

Er…

 

Because it might imply, it might just possibly suggest that words don’t change their meanings at all.

 

Er…

 

That we simply slide sideways, without realising it – imagining we’re still the same person, still in the same place – but now we’re, in fact, in a completely different segment of reality.

 

Ah – that’s interesting.

 

It’s rather shocking if you ask me. I never thought that reality could have longitudinal segments.

 

You didn’t?

 

Not before now.

 

Well, things happen, don’t they. Change, as they say, is the only constant.

 

Yes, I suppose so.

 

But it’s not so far from your phase-based concept of reality, is it?

 

Yes and no.

 

Yes and no… where have I heard that before?

 

In the blog of course. You’re always saying yes and no.

 

Me?

 

You – the lead voice. It used to be Merry. Then there were others. It’s a bit like the new Doctor Who, or James Bond – we just accept the latest incarnation as a continuation of the previous one – either enjoying or disliking the differences.

 

?

 

Don’t take it to heart. The main thing is that you evidently have some memory of previous discussions. You even use similar turns of phrase. It’s just your name is different today – er – I’ve forgotten – what is your name today?

 

Oh dear, me too. Was it Val, or Mallory.

 

Damn. How bizarre. Well, isn’t this a pickle we’re in. We’ve both forgotten our names – but yes – you’re right – one of us was

 

Or is

 

Or is Val and the other was

 

Or is

 

Or is Mallory, and you know what

 

What?

 

I don’t think it greatly matters which is which

 

Or who is who

 

Just as long as we get to the café and have a bowl of steaming mushroom soup

 

Just as long as we settle the science for once and for all

 

Precisely

 

That words

 

Apparently

 

Cannot be simply words if

 

That is

 

Infinity exists

 

Is

 

For each of us somehow or other

 

Each of us somehow or other

 

Hey – you can’t just repeat what I said!

 

Repeat? I think you’ll find that our words are on different lines – and are therefore either out of phase or…

 

Repetition – technically speaking Mallory didn’t repeat what you said – not poetically, at least, as he omitted one word.

 

Oh, ok.

 

Wait a sec – who’s that?

 

Oh – that’s the moderator.

Huh?

Who adjudicates disputes. We hear him but we’re not supposed to acknowledge the fact. It’s a literary convention like the aside.

 

Oops, sorry.

 

That’s ok. 

 

But, now at least we know who is who.

 

We do?

 

Yes, if we can trust the adjudicator – if his

 

Or her

 

Or her voice is authoritative.

 

Oh – because he

 

Or she

 

I’m actually convinced it was he

 

Are you?

 

Yes.

 

That’s funny.

 

Really. Why?

 

Because I’m convinced it was a she.

 

Crikey! This is weird.

 

Totally.

 

So it could be a he to you and a she to me.

 

Precisely.

 

So there’s no knowing or saying what is what.

 

Precisely.

 

And whether in fact I’m Mallory

 

Or I’m Val.

 

Unless we can tune into the sound of silence.

 

Unless we can bite the bullet and accept that all of us are, in silence, co-valent participants

 

Players

 

In the medium of exchange

 

The osmotic environment that is human conscious-

 

Ness

 

 

 

The end

Rapturous applause.

Capital letters – just for the hell of it

And a steaming bowl of mushroom soup

Ed. Shouldn’t that be two?

0=1

              whatever