Electrons and their infinite exploits.

Not because it’s new or right, but because it’s pleasant to talk about. ‘I’m not happy to be living in the physical world,/ but while we’re both here, we should get that way, girl.’ I think it’s important that we talk about the flesh too, since that’s what we’re all into, right? So, electrons, right?

Lines on the dots that make the lining of the eyes, which might as well be electrons:
It is fitting to imagine the following, I think you’ll know what I mean: to allow yourself to lean on your back with your eyes at the sky blue or black, do that, and you know the thing that happens, where you see, after a little bit, little bits in the sky?—they’re really like follicles that make up your eye. Pretend these are electrons, and then you’ll be able to pick ones for an instant out from among them, an infinite field of dots, if not, then like, lots. Imagine them to be electrons, you’ll be having vision, or visions.
What do we like that turns us on?
What but electrons?
What to like but by endorphins?
How much light till we see more of him?
Here’s relevant music, tentatively representative:
Tentative as words,
We’re in and out of here—
You feel it if you’ve heard,
And leave for love more
Than staying put for fear.
Hey momentary doors!
Immediate as light,
We’d see them if we’d let
Ourselves have sight, and so,
When inspiration bounces off
The things you would get right,
Do not give up, but wryly love
Your try in what you wrote, you know?
Here’s a relevant passage of speech, from a movie by John Allis, currently in pre-production: "Did you know we can’t see an electron? We never have. We assume that they’re there just because we figure they have to be. Like it’s
the only way an atom can work, we think, is if there are electrons there, balancing everything out. But you can’t take a picture of one, you know? Light just bounces them away, they say. They’re so small they just fly off when the light hits them and...so we can’t really be sure about them. It’s the idea of electrons we’re pretty sure about. No proof, though." As in, "What eye has not seen, nor ear heard." Or, if one is in the mood to consider it incorrectly, which, as you must know as well as I do, is often as helpful as it is inevitable, "The universe is infinite because it has not been produced by a creator. The causes of what now exists had no beginning…. The material cause of all things that exist is the coming together of atoms and void. Atoms are too small to be perceived by the senses. They are eternal and have many different shapes, and they can cluster together to create things that are perceivable" (Democritus)….Hear also: "—You are raving, Mr. Artaud./ You are mad./ —I am not mad./ I tell you they have reinvented microbes in order to impose a new idea of god./ They have found a new way to bring out god and to capture him in his microbic noxiousness./ …god,/ and with god/ his organs./ For you can tie me up if you wish,/ but there is nothing more useless than an organ." Artaud’s assertion is a good platform for discussion of universal healthcare—if the insensible particles that make us up are either here or not here, in an out, or both at an impossible once, should we or should we not come together to take care of them? After all, I only think the body’s newsworthy because it may or may not be.

Why is it important to talk about this? Because it’s important to talk about what might not be there, but might as well be, to the point that these intricate guesses (that is, however intricate we make them) are "the evidence of things not seen."…"For the invisible things of him are clearly seen, being understood by the things which are made." Not understood, no, clearly not. Not in the usual sense of a complete understanding. But complete in the sense of a complete motion, like Hegel’s notion being laboriously pitched (his labor, his pitch) into Spirit, so, if you like it even more convoluted than my news: "as a real existence, it is not a real existence, and through this vanishing it is a real existence. This vanishing is thus itself at once its abiding; it is its own knowing of itself, and its knowing itself as a self that has passed over into another self that has been perceived and is universal….This mediation thus posits the Notion of each of the two extremes in its actuality, or makes what each is in itself into its Spirit." Thomas put it more simply, or put something in such a way that I don’t feel bad cheaply aligning it with anything whatsoever: "For if body comes into being by means of the Spirit, that is a miracle. But if Spirit comes into being by means of the body, that is the miracle of miracles."
This cheap leap is the key to this news. It’s also the key to electrons (to the doors,) which are the tentative language of the Word in the world, in flesh and out of flesh, in existence and out of (might as well be beyond) existence. Don’t laugh, I know it’s nothing new at all—so actually, yes, laugh. And here’s how to get further in on the joke: it’s the key to the news in so far as the language is as ever the light Tentative Language of Light, tentative power to the tentative power, saying nothing, nothing, nothing unto the One Thing. I’m embarrassed too, but no more embarrassed than I am to be naked (and made of such flighty particles.) Understand the news to be as open as the way of electrons, as ever-new as news. "There’s infinite things to spit," etc. I mean like, I run my mouth like babies have bodies. And I have to flesh out my blog, right?



—What in the world? See, for example, http://www.theosophy-nw.org/theosnw/science/sc-ww2.htm.