Actually, I don't know if this is some sort of weird evolution, like
one of those things that go click-click-clack in the backyard of my
mind when I cross the gate into the next arcade-game level of worldy
interfacing...
But I have been silent, and my creativity for writing, thinking, everything,
has been at an all-time low. On the other hand, I tend to notice minute stuff
that went mostly unaccounted for before. I don't really like this stage, it causes
me great apprehension, and I hope it goes away soon. Most probably I need another
week like the one I spent in Helsinki. But I might be growing old.

Whoever sees all beings in the soul
and the soul in all beings
does not shrink away from this.
In whom all beings have become one with the knowing soul
what delusion or sorrow is there for the one who sees unity?
It has filled all.
It is radiant, incorporeal, invulnerable,
without tendons, pure, untouched by evil.
Wise, intelligent, encompassing, self-existent,
it organizes objects throughout eternity.
Aum Shanti Shanti Shanti

Isha Upanishad

>o vazio dos outros é uma constante, ou talvez seja simplesmente uma
>forma diferente de viver a vida. Não há formas correctas ou incorrectas,
>há apenas as que nós nos adaptamos e nos são agradáveis e as outras.

discordo. é impossivel viver sem a crenca nos absolutos. relativizar
tudo é meio caminho andado para admitir que mesmo as nossas conviccoes
mais profundas e a mais evidente barbárie nao passam de meras diferencas
em relacao aos restantes, logo podendo ser questionadas mas nunca encaradas
como correctas ou incorrectas.

Journée de la pleine lune
Au sommet de la dune
A caresser de loin ton chien

T'oublies or not t'oublies
Les ombres d'opalines
au rendez-vous suivant, j'attends
Au fond d'une autre limousine
Qui ne vaut pas plus cher
Que ce bouquet de nerfs

A frôler la calanche
Les étendues salines
A perte de vue on s'imagine en Chine

Trompe la mort et tais-toi
Trois petits tours et puis s'en va
J'opère tes amygdales
Labyrinthiques, que dalle
Ne m'est plus rien égal
Je sais je n'ai offert que des bouquets de nerfs


Rubis de Sade et jade, déjà je dis non
Diamant, c'est éternel
Des fleurs, des bouts du ciel immense

La liste des parfums capiteux
Capitalistes c'est bien bien
Mais olfacultatif
Liste en boule, au panier
Finalement j'ai offert quelques bouquets de nerfs

Agendas donnez-moi
De vos dates à damner
Tous les bouddhas du monde
Et la Guadalupe

S'il arrive qu'un anglais
Vienne me visiter
Dans la métempsychose
Je saurai recevoir je peux lui en faire voir de la sérénité
Et même lui laisser un certain goût de fer
Et ce bouquet de nerfs

Interlúdio :)

Beth two

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

(Redirected from 2 to the power of C)

In set theory and other branches of mathematics, (pronounced beth two), or 2^c (pronounced two to the power of c), is a certain cardinal number. It is the 2nd beth number, and is the result of cardinal exponentiation when 2 is raised to the power of c, the cardinality of the continuum.

This number 2^c is the cardinality of many sets, including:

• The power set of the set of real numbers, so it is the number of subsets of the real line, or the number of sets of real numbers;
• The power set of the power set of the set of natural numbers, so it is the number of sets of sets of natural numbers;
• The set of all functions from the real line to itself;
• The power set of the set of all functions from the set of natural numbers to itself, so it is the number of sets of sequences of natural numbers;
• The set of all real-valued functions of n real variables to the real numbers.

Some early set theorists hypothesised the equation

stating that 2^c is equal to the 2nd aleph number. It turns out that the truth of this equation (*) cannot be determined from the standard Zermelo-Fraenkel axioms of set theory; it is true in some models and false in others. (*) is a part of the generalized continuum hypothesis (GCH), but it is possible that (*) is true while the full GCH is false. On the other hand, if (*) is true, then the ordinary continuum hypothesis (CH) must follow, but again it is possible that CH is true while (*) is false.

Elizabeth Rauscher (2001) has developed a detailed theory of an eight dimensional complex Minkowski space in which such phenomena as remote viewing would be possible as well as apparently being able to view things at a point.

These space-time theories of consciousness are highly speculative but have features that their proponentes consider attractive: every individual would be unique because they are a space-time path rather than an instantaneous object (ie: the theories are non-fungible), and also because consciousness is a material thing so direct supervenience would apply. The possibility that conscious experience occupies a short period of time (the 'specious present') would mean that it can include movements and short words; these would not seem to be possible in a presentist interpretation of
experience.

Theories of this type are also suggested by cosmology. The Wheeler-De Witt equation describes the quantum wave function of the universe (or more correctly, the multiverse). This equation does not involve time. Time was explained by Bryce De Witt by dividing the multiverse into an observer with measuring devices and the rest of the universe. The rest of the universe then changes relative to the observer. This introduction of time results in the occurrence of space-time, gravity and the rest of the observed material world. As the famous cosmologist Andrei Linde (2003) puts it:

"The general theory of relativity brought with it a decisive change in this point of view [the 3D world]. Space-time and matter were found to be interdependent, and there was no longer any question which one of the two is more fundamental. Space-time was also found to have its own inherent degrees of freedom, associated with perturbations of the metric - gravitational waves. ............"
"Is it possible that consciousness, like space-time, has its own intrinsic degrees of freedom, and that neglecting these will lead to a description of the universe that is fundamentally incomplete?"

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

After

Take the cloak from his face, and at first
Let the corpse do its worst!

How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can.
And, absorbed in the new life he leads,
He recks not, he heeds
Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
On his senses alike,
And are lost in the solemn and strange
Surprise of the change.
Ha, what avails death to erase
His offence, my disgrace?
I would we were boys as of old
In the field, by the fold:
His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn
Were so easily borne!

I stand here now, he lies in his place:
Cover the face!

Robert Browning

Eyes fastened with pins
.
.
How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in. The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death's supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address somehow wrong,
Even death can't figure it out
Among all the locked doors...
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death's side of the bed.
.
- Charles Simic
.
.

"Since Roman times the cultivation of olive trees and the production of olive oil in Liguria became one of the most important sources of wealth in this area. Through the centuries the demand of olive oil increased steadily and Ligurian people had to rely on the capability of the Benedictine monks who lived in Taggia. Since 1050 the Benedictine monks had organised the cultivation of olive trees in Ligurian valleys following two routes: turning the steeps sides of the hills into terraced plots and creating the famous Taggiasca olives after a long work of selecting and grafting."

(from "Ligurian Cuisine")

I would reject it as the most contemptible evil, I would fight it with
every power I possess, I would fight the whole of mankind, if one
minute were all I could last before I were murdered, I would fight in the full
confidence of the justice of my battle and of a living being's right to
exist. Let there be no misunderstanding about me. If it is now the belief
of my fellow men, who call themselves the public, that their good requires
victims, then I say: The public good be damned, I will have no part of it!"

There stood a tow'r, amazing to the sight,
Built up of beams, and of stupendous height:
Art, and the nature of the place, conspir'd
To furnish all the strength that war requir'd.
To level this, the bold Italians join;
The wary Trojans obviate their design;
With weighty stones o'erwhelm their troops below,
Shoot thro' the loopholes, and sharp jav'lins throw.
Turnus, the chief, toss'd from his thund'ring hand
Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand:
It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high;
The planks were season'd, and the timber dry.
Contagion caught the posts; it spread along,
Scorch'd, and to distance drove the scatter'd throng.
The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain,
Still gath'ring fast upon the trembling train;
Till, crowding to the corners of the wall,
Down the defense and the defenders fall.
The mighty flaw makes heav'n itself resound:
The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground.
The tow'r, that follow'd on the fallen crew,
Whelm'd o'er their heads, and buried whom it slew:
Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent;
All the same equal ruin underwent.

How Gudrun cast herself into the Sea, but was brought ashore again.
Gudrun had a daughter by Sigurd hight Swanhild; she was the fairest of
all women, eager-eyed as her father, so that few durst look under the
brows of her; and as far did she excel other woman-kind as the sun excels the
other lights of heaven.

But on a day went Gudrun down to the sea, and caught up stones in her
arms, and went out into the sea, for she had will to end her life. But
mighty billows drave her forth along the sea, and by means of their upholding
was she borne along till she came at the last to the burg of King
Jonakr, a mighty king, and lord of many folk. And he took Gudrun to wife, and
their children were Hamdir, and Sorli, and Erp; and there was Swanhild
nourished withal.

On entering the House of Dust,
everywhere I looked there were royal crowns gathered in heaps,
everywhere I listened, it was the bearers of crowns,
who, in the past, had ruled the land,
but who now served Anu and Enlil cooked meats,
served confections, and poured cool water from waterskins.
In the house of Dust that I entered
there sat the high priest and acolyte,
there sat the purification priest and ecstatic,
there sat the anointed priests of the Great Gods.
There sat Etana, there sat Sumukan,
there sat Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Netherworld.
Beletseri, the Scribe of the Netherworld, knelt before her,
she was holding the tablet and was reading it out to her Ereshkigal.
She raised her head when she saw me----
'Who has taken this man?'

A vida não é estúpida, Alda, somos nós que somos estúpidos.

Todos os erros e maleficios da vida derivam de uma forma ou
de outra da maneira como optamos por viver os nossos dias e
fazer as nossas opções -

ou da nossa incapacidade em dominarmo-nos antes de as fazermos.

Racionalizar e tentar dar sentido a tudo, para que as gerações
que nos seguem possam ter uma base de partida melhor que a nossa,
é o que julgo que se pode fazer,no limite.

(Bento) Benedict XVI. Benedictines. Olive.
´
Heh.

ehhh

.
.
Ariel
.
Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.
.
God's lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! ---The furrow
.
Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,
.
Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks ---
.
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else
.
Hauls me through air ---
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.
.
White
Godiva, I unpeel ---
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
.
And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child's cry
.
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
.
The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
.
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
.
-Sylvia Plath
.
.

19 DE OUTUBRO DE 1827



Amigos meus, que Deus vos guarde,

No serviço do czar, no labor,

Nas orgias da amizade,

Nos mistérios doces do amor!



Amigos meus, Deus vos ampare,

Nas agras da vida, na procela,

Na terra alheia, no ermo do mar

E nos fundos negros da terra!

- A.S. Pushkin