Missed it. Darn it.
The only thing we watch on tv around here is news. And much of the time, I get saturated with it and it makes me want to cry.
Thanks for the kind words, you two. (Can't talk about anybody behind their backs around here, y'know! Darn public forum... heh)
I would really like to publish some of your essays in the Great Ideas section of the main site, peresozo.
(No, not any of the ones you wrote under your other pseudonyms. I'm trying, with a little difficulty, not to remember those.)
Let me know, ok?
Here's a lousy poem I wrote called "gravity's rainbow"
there is a measure of the amount of energy
in a system that is available for doing work;
we linger. we seek. we lurk. we dwell in murky
facilitations of relations and matter.
entropy increases.
that's the only thing that matters
when spatters of universal energy
degrade to an ultimate state of inert uniformity.
this is the pynchon story,
a communication theory
a numerical measure of the
uncertainty and outcome,
a capable narrator flash forwarding
shifted viewpoints.
frequently,
much of what happens, just happens,
cursory, fluid. much is fantasy but it is often
difficult to distinguish lucid dreaming from
nightmarish quantification. we can relinquish
sections numbered, divide by rows of sequences,
Gravity's Rainbow the goal or the demise
of black humour and fantasy.
there is human alienation in the chaos of modern society
obsessive, paranoid, ridiculous, grotesque.
there is esoteric mathematical language.
we drink it, entropic, full, never thirsty again,
the glass, a closed system.
it is a strange scientific quest to discover the mysterious,
often conspiratorial in a futuristic world of closed societies.
pynchon speaks. we listen.
open to hear a stolen
rendition.
dp - 2-20-2003