Neutrino Flux

Neutrino Flux


A place lying at  the confluence of  a truth and falsehood (with no tradition of a divine creator), is obliterated when caught in the midst of a massive neutrino flux  and  so  is transformed from a landmark of  the map to a memory  in  the  mind.

There were several schools of thought as to the cause of this abnormal variation in an  otherwise normal series of  events  the  most  predominant   of which stressed: (1) the  dichotomy between their FORMS  and content proved to be too great,  and  (2)  a  polarity  of  forces came together to   generate  these fluxations.  (This, of course, being based  upon the assumption that the world exists  only  as  a series of mathematical functions.)

However, Your Obedient Servant would much  prefer the words of  a  hare-lipped  hunchback  who happened to wander near the scene of  the devastation:

“Must  every  event  have effective cause?”


12.6 (1) (42:20) #697


Standard Operating Procedure


Standard Operating Procedure


It was the duty of the Technocrats to introduce new dreams into  the mainstream of the ancient society.

Following the standard operating procedure they programmed their computers for the tank, setting the controls for TRUTH.

What resulted were extrapolations  of the wildest sort concerning  (among other things:  magnetic  bottles, phase transitions &, finally,  the multidimensional,  non-dimension).

While researching this little tale, I was sorting through the various manuscripts attempting to find a single line that would best sum up my feelings to all this idiocy.

There was none to be found, however, a stranger approached me and handed me a piece of paper upon which were scribbled the following words:

“God Himself is shamed.”


6.22 (11) (19:7) #307

On the Nature of Light


 On the Nature of Light

Let us examine, now, the nature of light.

By its very essence, light is ephemeral. It exists on that boundary between the real and the unreal.   You can touch it not, but it’s warm to the touch.  You cannot see it, yet you can’t see without it.  It is weightless, the embodiment of stillness, and silent.  You can hold it in your hand.  Without light, the world would be a cold and lonely place; a world bereft of light, unworldly.

When God thought first of the universe, His first  thoughts were of light.

A Short Digression Upon Meilgaard


Meilgaard was born of woman, like the rest of us, or so they said.  It was, however, a matter of public record that as a child flowers would wither to his touch and toadstools would sprout from his path.

The other children began to shy away from Meilgaard when they noticed small yet certain symptoms of deviant behaviour.

For example, Meilgaard once spent several days staring at a small pebble.  Nothing and no one could distract him from his task.  Day and night he peered at, through, and seemingly into the stone.  He then arose to join them, once again, in their childish games, saying only, “I am now able”.  He did not further elaborate.

The incident, the first of many, served notice to the children of the ‘otherness’ of Meilgaard.

Another time, Meilgaard insisted that his companions take part in a little exercise that he called ‘the shaking of the tree’.  He then lined them up about a non-existent tree and instructed them to close their eyes.  He assured them, that upon opening their eyes, a wondrous bush would bloom in their midst.

Accounts vary as to the actual course of events.  Meilgaard would later boast that what the children actually set their eyes upon was a manifestation of indescribable ugliness, a phenomenon encompassing the totality of non-existence.  Some swooned, others fled, still others were paralyzed with freight.

As a direct result of the experience, each of the children was struck deaf, dumb, blind, or a combination thereof.  Several also succumbed to a sinister malady in which it was described that scorpions were found to be growing in their brains.

Yes, Meilgaard was marked for greatness from an early age.

Not that these were isolated episodes.  Indeed, Meilgaard once called upon the polarity of forces inherent I his own mind to transform a decrepit, old woman into a column of tears.  (The column persisted for many years.)  However, it was only after he authored his now-famous tome, Never to Know, Always to Fear that he came to the attention of the grave registration.

The book was unusual in at least one respect – it contained no words.  It consisted primarily of sighs and muffled groans amidst wisps of wind and the decaying carcasses of long-dead ideas.  Reading the volume had one rather unpleasant side effect:  the complete and irreversible eradication of the memory of the reader.  Needless to say, tens of  thousands, even millions, clamoured to devour its contents.


The Steppingstone to the Stars


The Steppingstone to the Stars


In the backwaters of time, before Hammurabi compiled his Code or Akhenaton renounced the Ruling Lord of Thebes, in a region known for its heat and abundance

In the backwaters of time, before Hammurabi compiled his Code or Akhenaton renounced the Ruling Lord of Thebes, in a region known for its heat and abundance of humankind, a man whose name perhaps will never be pronounced was working hard and long upon a treatise that had come to him from Mesopotamia.

The man was weary from long hours of concentration.  The curious numeration of the Sumerians, cuneiform in construction, was uncommonly hard to decipher; it had taken its toll.  He put down his dustboard and repaired to the shade of a mustard tree for a short nap.  Sleep came grudgingly; this was not unusual for an old man.  Yet it was during this fitful sleep that he dreamt a dream.

In this dream he saw what no man had seen before.  It appeared to him as the Eye of God.  And this was possessed of a voice, in that it spoke to him:  “I am Nothingness.  I can be united to something and only that something remains.  I can be taken away in like manner.  I am Void, yet, if something is multiplied or divided by Myself, only I shall remain.  In time, learned men will come to say that the Earth, itself, revolves upon Me.  I am Emptiness.  I will be worshipped as a secret symbol.  My name will be whispered and uttered only in select company and darkened rooms.  I am Nothing, it is true, but I am also the steppingstone to the stars and the key to the secrets of the atom.  I shall be called an Integer and described as Real.  I am Rational.  And, most importantly, I am Good.”  Upon awakening, the unknown Hindu set down his dustboard and drew upon it the Eye of God.


Thus did the Zero intrude itself upon the Universe.



I am the writer of epitaphs.  I reduce a lifetime to a stanza, line, or, perhaps, a single word.  These are the hardest; my favorite is STAR-SPLITTER.  I am known to few but feared by most.  Many are my masks.  Some of my works endure a short while, a few a century or an aeon.  The process by which these are spared is, to my knowledge, a random one; most are forgotten even before I chisel them into stone.  My memory seems made of wax.  I have been called God, History, and Memory, but I consider myself, at best, an inspired idiot.  Yet my work is consistent.  Some, in my position, might speak of power, but I know not the word.  I tend to think of my work in differing terms:  a job that needs to be done, so I do it  — and besides, I know of no other line.