Saturday, February 24, 2007

jumping past time frequency domain duality to spin in the cosmic caramello

1.40201 * sqrt(4) nahambe^7 / eurhimde^8 on the yellow axis, twelve metaparasangs west of Wollongoroa, if the Glundge is low and Callaweng Terrapingtorin in two steps from
my arrhengterrapongorin.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

time asymmetry and karma: where do you stand on CPT invariance?

If we imagine that time is parametrized by the real numbers (or any subset thereof), the karma by itself is not time invariant: that is if we replace t by -t in all of our perspectives concerning time, good becomes evil and karma for the better becomes karma for the worse. Now imagine that we have the unit circle in the complex numbers since e^(pi * i * theta) for real theta. Hinduism and Buddhism call the wheel samsara. It's interesting that if we just take the real numbers into account, we only get two choices: good and evil, good karma and bad karma. Being trapped in 'cyclic existence', playing the game, etc. There's a weird vortex here: cyclic existence is real parametrized, but most value systems when distilled to their essence are comprised of functions which (to various degrees of rapidity) give yes/no answers. Life or death: a duality.

If we take the analogy of karma to money, then if we real-parametrize that, and consider continuously compounded karma, we are drawn inexorably to the notion of imaginary karma, and
complex karma.

If everything is already known, because there exists an infinite mindscape for it to occur in, then nothing actually needs to be done, because it has already been done. This is the conceit of people with nihilist sickness. Since nothing actually needs to be done, the cosmos is an act, a demonstration of nothing being done. This is called The Big What-if? The Great Conditional. In order for the Big What-If to happen, the Great Conditional must fragment into multitdinous cavalcades and event-plumes and other assorted chance-alliteratives. In our home context, this is called The Great Migration from Here to There or just "The Great Migration". I think we have barely scratched the surface in accepting the process. In watching vaporous contrails of smoke rise from the incense there is the apprehension of parts or objects, and there is the losing track of those parts or objects by continual transformation and change. One take on apprehension is that is low grade fear (the fundamental explanation of all reality): an apprehension is a holding on, a concern with a particular here, an attachment. To be born is to be attached and therefore split from the Great Conditional. These landmarks are both relative and context-sensitive and may not apply in all contexts. The Buddhist concept of dependent origination carefully and artfully tells us (in as best language as possible) how the Great Conditional is established from the Big What-if. This process cannot be extended beyond a certain point (as recent excesses in high energy theoretical physics have amply and thoroughly demonstrated). Verbs move: one must see them in motion. "you cannot learn about a process by stopping it: you must become one with it.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

the Great Migration

awaiting the scourge of the nonsingular? precessing variously around the long routes taken by various entities of all shapes, sizes, creeds, sexualities, colors, textures, timbres, nuances, flavors, accents, shades, forms in whatever kind of "here, let's see what the cards turned up now" way, all manner of creature, thing, object, again what-have-you take their part, only defined as a relation to the other creatures in the Great Migration from Here to There. You invest your money in a mutual market fund, you find the character table of an exotic vertex operator algebra, you prep some YEPD broth for your next population of bacteria, you mine the fields for coltan ore to be used in cellphones a hemisphere away, you explore in the deep suburbane substrata of human collective consciousness, you photosynthesize with chloroplasts and P680 and P700 groups. You are an electron in an sp3 hybridized orbital. It's a whole array of particulars you are in possession thereof. Insofar as the angles, glances, and stances of your current perspective will allow.

Friday, February 16, 2007


"recently, Bozquonimo Laurenziac Sal-Izquierda Dzogchen was disqualified from the Marchquire and Glonnis Category Theory invitational because of use of modular functor freebase. After a round of mandatory and egregiously rulebookish mind tests, it was found that there was some modular functor residue bound to scattered gluons all around her prefrontal lobes.

Tonight, on State-The-Assumption, we interview BSILD about these tests:

Mink Wartindale: hi folks, I'm Mink Wartindale, your offensively callous interviewer, and
today we have Bozquonimo Laurenziac Sal-Izquierda Dzogchen with us to discuss her recent disqualification at the Glonnis Category Theory invitational. Ms. Dzogchen, what do you have to say about these test results? Do they herald horror and iniquity for an up-and-coming generation of meditators and theoreticians?

Bozquonimo: So caffeine, nicotine, polyestrogen, and L-DOPA are perfectly fine for competitors to use? And what about hallucinogens? That they should test for reifications of concepts in the hypercharge amplitudes of my gluons is just demented and unjust!

MW: But think of the children! Once Jane Dough gets it into her head that this thing we call a world is a flimsy panoply of disconnected assumptions parading around as a broken dromedary just marginally perpetuating itself, then she'll be at the street corner, smoking up Hauptmoduls of E8, and assuming deeply nondual states of mind, believing in the existence of the Monongahela and so forth! It would be utter ruination!

Bozquonimo: and you're (snort) asserting that someone like Jazblander Quercibunt Luzznunz is normal? I beg your pardon. Whatever miscellanous pathologies are behind that paragon of ache is no one's guess. Point being, if the universe worked the way that he thought it worked (that is, assuming that he's a by-the-book Precirepticesian), that the entire cosmos was fundamentally and exactly precisely a single two dimensional square and that diffeomorphisms were the Angel of Horror! and that motion was unbecoming to the fine and moral lad he makes himself to be, then excuse me but just throw all notions of organic wholeness down in a fifty foot well of sulfuric comet ash and misbegotten molybdenides!

MW: But he was the foppish darling of the prize committee! His Absolute Exact Precise Concept was a scintillating, gleaming, radiant, and exultant declaration of (the sheer wonder of existence)... (cut off)

Bozquonimo: the partially flayed and eaten by anteaters/diseased dirigible of Luzznunz's pale, faded, and jaded conception of Life, the Universe, And Everything.

MW: at this point in the conversation, I narrate my stoning you via an icy glance at you, I break the fourth wall to say to the audience that it's been a good interview (because my interviews are always good even if I'm in complete philosophical antithesis to my interviewee). Wherein I shake your hand furiously and without regard to the health of your tendons, muscles, joints, bursa, and ligaments and assorted sensory neurons, while graciously excoriating and humiliating you. And I let you say something before I announce next week's experimental subject.

Bozquonimo: all shales the shorn shore by the forthcoming frothingly unutterant glee between here and there in this particular Thylakoid of the Great Migration from Here to There, from Whence to Thence, by the transitioning and ever rindwarpingly extrusion of the commutative wavering water molecule dance reflecting the organic wholeness of nothingness from whence and thence to we are in the process of moving by the arrhythmic intonation of the drumbearers!

MW: Damn hippie you! Next week we'll be interviewing Jargzargiles N. Nunquam, who currently holds protests against Algebraic Topologists at major universities."

Friday, February 02, 2007

gaw gaw der-splunk

"oh, that's an invalid argument" replied the bitler, "the horsegas isn't cringeworthy"
"what" said Lrs. Wodgeworthy "do you mean?" lhe asked most precipitouslessly.
"you agree" said the bitler "that if one thing is held to be the same as another thing, then the two things are in fact, one, no?"
"i know, i know! it's a watermelon!" replied Lrs. Wodgeworthy.
"um. anyway. if two things are in fact one thing, then we have ensconced division!"
"isn't that illegal in Wilbertville" retorted Lrs. Wodgeworthy.
"i am attempting to argue (under some duress), that if we hold one thing to be the same as another thing, then if we can perfectly confuse that thing for something else, we have removed all distinctions between them: we can no longer discriminate between them. this is the essence of division."
"so the essence of division is illegal in Wilbertville" replied Lrs. Wodgeworthy.
"as a foil, you're completely useless, you know." blarbled the bitler.
"first outer inner last" algebraicised Wodgeworthy.
"so I was saying, if the essence of division is the explicit and intentional blurring of the differences and distinction between two things such that they are regarded as the same and consequently we are left with one thing and a thing divided: a piece of information which is distilled out from the process of division. in most cases these are both numbers but only one of them might be a number and the other might not. in purely abstract operations on numbers, two numbers are distilled out: this is factorization." blarbled the bitler.
"you're an excellent tho' longwinded didactic device." skeedged Lrs. Wodgeworthy.
"at least you're getting metaconversational. I bet you twelve root seven ducats that you're the first one to break the fourth wall." expingulated the bitler.
"you're on. so you were saying..." responded Wodgeworthy.
"nits picked and cantilevers precisely balanced with the restoration of information and multiplication, and swerving purple at the horizon, is it no surprise that when mathematicians consider the edgy balance that addition and multiplication reach with the primes, they're led on a magical mystery tour that brings them straight to the cosmic galois group." coughed the bitler.
"I protest" (Wodgeworthy is being used as an advocate of common sense here) "the analogy that you're trying to draw between a so-called fundamental object / cosmic or cosmological galois group regardless of scope or reasoning system is rather uncalled for. "

"But what" replied the Bitler "would the mathematician's Philosopher's Stone be?" -- "a cosmic and transcendental dictionary that would be able to interpolate between any theorem or mathematical structure and any other? Sure, the best they can do at the moment is yammer on about their particular specialties, but just imagine what you could do with such a thing. Rather than trying harried operations to express two different mathematical objects in two different categories or toposes using appropriate functors to image one to another, one would have this massively powerful structure representor/transformer. It wouldn't be the transformation group of the symmetries of the line or the plane, or a twenty four dimensional orbifold, or the Riemannian manifold of which E8 is the group of symmetries for. Take two mathematically disparate objects, like the monster group M and the julia set for sin(z) for z a quaternion. Now, you could force many relationships between them, but they'd all be hackneyed and unnatural. If you had the cosmic group, and I don't mean the cosmic galois group of the rationals that everyone's all ga-ga about at the moment, but The Cosmic Thang which connects J. Random X mathematical thingie to J. Random Y mathematical thingy in the most natural and supremely transparent manner, you could transform/connect/interpolate one thing to another. But it is not this quality which gives The Cosmic Thang it's nifty features. One can imagine finding unexpected rivulets and other stranger treasures presently undreamt of..." babbled the bitler.
"the reader is definitely bored now" yammered Wodgeworthy.
"you broke the fouth wall. those ducats are mine" yarrowed the bitler.