北京麻雀 (Sparrows of Beijing)
西 New York 2012 - 6
13
In the belly of the beast
2012
It was there that he realized, the was no explanation for why he had come here. It was as if it were a dream that he had passed through, and he was gradually falling asleep. It was too stressful; and he was going to sleep for the last time, as if he were the character in 2001. Or even older when a body swung into a brave new world, going east to west. He remembered a story that his uncle was engaged to the niece of the famous author. But it was just a dream he thought, just a dream, at least that is what he hoped for. Even if it were a maddening kind of dream, that would be all right too, because eventually, he would wake up from it, the years of relaxation under the current condition that followed the fall of something very like Robespierre were troubled by the activities of a man who called himself Gracchus Babeuf.
With the directory or something like it as American style, he thought about how it had weaved in and out of his penitent moving style which was a domination of a newer style that could be traced to cross-angled style that might be traced in a line to Napoleon, if only if it was the style the great rising of the bourgeois which breaking out of the futile forms of monarchy. Even if the monarchy was not truly it is raison d'être: it was the style that counted. Even if Napoleon would lay on a complete discussion with the man who tried to wear the mantle. Garden of earthly delights.
The merchants and financiers, however, loved the lucre that it brought in until it stopped in 2007 because they had learned that the poor merely needed to feed them elves, that was the mistake of 1932, and they would not repeat it again. The rich learn, if ever so slowly, what needs to be done at the top of society. Until they run into a new form creeping up from below. Because the Windward steps of this time were called the bleeding hearts of war, made Windward through the wind sets of a fiery Angel which was born on wings of roaring thunder upon the ask of nothingness. Because in the Middle East, Russia, born again from the USSR, was plotting to make a comeback. It was no longer the senior member of the alliance; that would now be China – but it had a plan that was as scheming as ever under Putin. Fantasia of Spirit.
If all of this seems to belie the small story of a man and a woman, realize that both of them grabbed what cares they may on knowing when to jump at the first grasp. Each one of them had known When to jump on the bandwagon, and when to jump off. Because each one of them liked the perks that came with the effervescent nature of riding along with that omnibus drifting of the hands that for the moment had power, it was an intoxicating mix that each one of them was drawn to, dispossessing every hold of speculation that restlessly and recklessly inflated every meantime currency and gambling on the rise and fall of the Almighty Dollar. They locked all the doors.1
Here they sat, across the table from each other, in one of innumerable Starbucks, hoping that they would carefully withhold the reason for their attraction to the other: they knew that they were alike, kith and kin. They knew that they could both feel where the tides of politics were taking them, even though they knew that the ones who were attracted to power were not; it was a strange thing that those who held on to power did not realize where the power was taking them, but they hoped they would hold on to it for as long as they might have. And some of them would do so. I wanna see you bleed.2
14
Poem
Wild weed rushes into tournesol tears,
Aubergois cases down to millimeter claps,
Pointed upward Allah close begotten
So far from legions remember
And reasons to be relentless absurdity.
Staff metal is my ramrod, my soul do wake
For blinded by palms I search for mine,
Irrespective of the look of victory,
Instead beguiling closer to protracted exhaustion -
Anger in the eyes.
Attention Service member vernacular aesthetic
War to end all wars,
For this microgeneration. In the aughts,
Corps to corpses, firearmed injuries,
In that studied moment of disgust en flambée,
Alone in other masking.
I partake of an eye.
To you of phantasmagoria view
in her curate churlish way,
of mad men interlocking into esstrange
rolling around fingertips to belonged beside
between the towers of capitalism, anf
the terrors when they finally crashed down
in the great recession,
The costs of war,
fall mainly on those who are young,
while the profits roll forth to those who are
Old and far away.
Hollow cheeks stare along
existence and exaggerated of accomplishments.
American lives arbitrarily lost through friendly fire
and written off as the back letter breathing
of a machine which spends in nanotechnology,
spewing its line of lucre, polished into homes
we do not own.
15
“Shusai, Master of Go, 21st in the line of succession, died in Atumi.”3 As the West counted the year, it was 1940 – in the year of the great crisis. Meijin, Yasunari Kawabata. Daniel I. A. Cohen owned the book, but his real work was as a professor of Comp Sci.
You do not know the work, but in Nippon, it is a great modern classic. And like Medea – by Euripides, in case you do not know because you are reading this text having stolen it from your betters, though you should be reading something more appropriate, for example, Batman – it was truly neglected by the many, though a few thought it the finest work. In Medea's case, it was the pinnacle of a structure when Jason please add the bottom of line 675, the exact midway of the play – around which there is symmetry except for Jason, who appears only once - I got this somewhere from one of the other Archopods.
In the master of Go it is the white 100 play where the master said that he could play a little more, he thought. And they would seal the move to take it up eventually. This has the same equipoise – the turning from dark to light as Jason does in Medea by Euripides.
But that is not what I really wish to say either. The truth is madness, madness I tell you.
Madness. As if the sum of two cubes could be found out.
1729, 4104, 13832, 20683, 32832, 39312, 40033, 46683, 64232, 65728, 110656, 110808, 134379, 149389, 165464, 171288, 195841, 216027, 216125, 262656, 314496, 320264, 327763, 373464, 402597, 439101, 443889, 513000, 513856, 515375, 525824, 558441, 593047, 684019, 704977
But that is just Ta(2,x), whereas Ta(3,x) begins with 87539319, and with super-computers, 3 more are found: 6963472309248, 48988659276962496, 24153319581254312065344. That is 4, 5, and 6.
And people do spend time on this, from the days before it was all just a dream. when quoted in One, Two, Three, Infinity, the book he was reading as he waited in the long lines in the airports that ate up his time.
And it is a double-play: Gödel to Turning to Nash, 6-4-3. An accident of statecraft. Coïncidance? Je ne crois pas pour.4
1 Numan, “Cars”
2 Guns’n Roses, “Welcome to the Jungle”
3 In the fine script, Ardelle Li devised a poem:
Big Ben bong Succession writ large
Pride goeth before the fall from grace
Under pressure
referendum Brexiteers emancipatory nuggenda
faithful farm moonlit insane peevish proper.
impossibility theorem née Gödel without the Mathematics
sovereignty conserved celebrated campaign
positioned competitor mythical
rupture
4 Fast French would eat the ne and digest the Je.