Saturday, June 13, 2009

The Hiatus Wavelength

I've been thinking of things how they literally seem and how they actually are.

Of course I only know things as they seem to me. If a guy in a green and black jacket goes jogging by with a big light brown dog, that's exactly what it looks like to me. And if I could somehow stop the guy and bring in 40 other observers, they'd probably say the same thing.

But let's say I had some kind of bionic eye, and let's say I had a control box to it and a bunch of buttons to push, or I was controlling it by thoughts and instinct, and perhaps acting out the workings by a lot of upward and rotating hand and finger gestures, and it was all accompanied by several buzzing, beeping, and centering sound effects, what then would I see? I know, it would depend on what the eye was programmed to see. In the scheme of things I'm imagining, it's able to break down the component parts of everything in its line of sight, and to see the parts as we normally see them as well as through several interpretive filters.

One interpretive filter might be represented like graph paper, with appearing and disappearing labels, hooked into some computer mentality (also bionic) that my mind happens to possess, in which things in time are frozen, or are cataloged then immediately retrieved for instant analysis and examination. That's a great filter. I won't go through all the possibilities of filters, in the interest of not tiring out my existing, non-bionic brain. Except to say, I'm picturing one of them as seeing wavelengths, the color spectrum, all that, again with a lot of cataloging and abilities to compare, contrast, separate, and immediately train in on as far as reaching conclusions and judgments.

So, let's say, when I see a guy in a green and black jacket, I would see the scheme for green and black, the qualities and quantities for each; everything comprising the guy himself would be broken down, the wavelengths of his thoughts, hair, spine, etc.; if he were listening to music, everything about that would be before me; all ephemeral attachments, like wet grass sticking to his shoes, etc., would be known; the sack with his dog's excrement would show its wavelengths as well as revealing everything about its heat; and of course the dog itself, I would see its bones, and be able to examine everything thoroughly, all these wavelengths being manifest.

I'm thinking reality is really quite wild. And even if you can't literally do all these things, you can still go around thinking, There's a guy in a green and black jacket. The guy is listening to music as he jogs. He has a light brown dog jogging beside him. Then in your thought, in comes your bionic eye's machinations, the sound effects, the graph paper, the cataloging, the comparing, the breaking down of component parts, the manifestation of the spectrum and wavelengths, etc.

When I sit in my chair, taking my hiatus, reading my Tarzan book, it's all right before me. My hiatus has its own color spectrum and wavelengths. I train my bionic eye on it for closer examination. What's this I see? That it's a lot like the rings of Saturn. There are plenty of gaps there. It stretches as far as the eye can see, but up close it is made of lots of tiny, separate pieces, wandering waves of light. Who knew my hiatus was a physical thing? It's not. It's a mental construct with observable energy. (Right now I've dismissed it and it's out wandering the grounds.)

I turn my chair toward the mirror. It's just me sitting there. But beep, buzz, whirr -- what's this? -- my chair is nothing but a stretched out sequence of lights, color, and possibly some trapped gas in its cushion. And as for me sitting there. Beep, buzz, whirr -- what's this? -- I also am a tower of light, colorful whirling dervishes ascending and descending, doing a pole dance in which the pole is both metallic and evanescent, all very colorful.

I exist like a carnival ride with blinking lights and wild, wild spheric music.

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