20251013

the following is not merely unhinged (please), it is pre-hinge:

Noe Valley, noetics, Noether ("no-ether"? really? you really can't make that one up), noel, Neo

okay, how's this for a cosmogonic myth:

New Zealand is the name we have now for the place where physically local observation-of-world started. little land-mass surrounded by uncollapsed wave(form)s. observers started sailing. for each step into the unknown, more knowable becomes available. and, you know, you can only recognize something continuous with what you've previously recognized, and New Zealand only had so many axes of its constructedness. in this myth, that's why it's got all the biomes in one place: because it had all the biomes.

in this mythology, Columbus, if you follow me, may have been briefly - briefly - correct about India

but at some point the circle connected and then the globe connected and then novelty had to start drawing circles into other dimensions

concept: English has puns like Earth has New Zealand

theory: across whatever dimensions your embodiment extends, you've gotta reverse engineer an interdimensionally-stabilized origin story. a geometric origin of mind-body, if not body alone. perhaps your ancestors are of ooze primordial, via the sea. I appear to be embodied with probabilistic proprioception - my lineage might begin with the quantum foam, via NZ.

hey wanna talk about quantum information systems? (you gesture questioningly between the formalism and the metaphor. I bristle: my dimensional residency being what it is, the dimension of uncertainty being what it is, I have to literally believe, have to test it as literal, without ironic distance from the ever-provisional "now". that's how you test load on that dimension. it's a root gently touching the water table. but it's not the tree, you know? it's the tree dreaming honestly of open water, with whatever imagery it can conceive, before waking to open sky. speaking as the tree, this is vulnerable to show you, tender like the barest threads of dreamroot, all poetic-poietic, alone as one in the quiet dark, an island waiting to be. ... I can't step without stepping, if you follow me, but the walking's the thing. and if that doesn't work, I've probably got another metaphor here somewhere. ... ah: the question of whether this holds water feels like it misses the point, speaking as the water, held, the shape of its container)

(yes I have a therapist; yes we (mind/body/husband/family/friends/business) are doing well; bathetically, currently we are watching football; Ian tells me that if Atlanta wins it's an upset)