tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56627930977032837172024-03-05T03:15:57.573-08:00someday is everydayuntil because.ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-42407025317219311192010-03-15T23:47:00.000-07:002010-03-15T23:48:54.012-07:00tumblweeds<a href="http://untilbecause.tumblr.com/">until because</a>.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{</div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-25273685071571881312010-01-26T00:08:00.000-08:002010-02-04T23:51:39.302-08:00vortex<div style="text-align: left;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3332/3497738767_92b3d9b5b1.jpg" width="400" /><br /></div><br />i want to write a poem that starts with the word<br />vortex and have it end up being a story about how<br />i feel all this love but also a study of why still<br />so much sadness<br /><br />vortex may not be the word i want to use though,<br />really, since it means something that resembles<br />a whirlpool according to the <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/vortex">dictionary</a>, and though i<br />really believed all this time it means a place of great energy<br />and mystery, what do i know compared to the forces of<br />definition?<br /><br />so what are the words that mean the most to you<br />becomes a part of the story too,<br />and what do they mean when you mean them<br />some other way?<br /><br />and so we go down the vortex mute or mumbling,<br />imagining stumbling together toward<br />light<br /><br />and the reason why still so much sadness is because<br />you see<br />sadness never ends, and the meaning of all this love is<br />you see<br />you've found someone to share your sadness with<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pyriet/3497738767/">pyriet</a></span>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-64519793017310659892009-12-03T00:21:00.000-08:002009-12-03T00:22:29.075-08:00everything they do is consciouswhich is mastery of intent,<br />which is pure, and art,<br />which I respect for its clarity,<br />and admire for its beauty,<br /><br />which I want you to respect<br />and admire too,<br />so we can share that feeling<br />each of us,<br />share in that groove,<br />so we can feel something<br />that is unlike anything else in this world<br /><br />and for a moment<br />feel what is real.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-70451297945639964282009-10-09T16:36:00.000-07:002009-10-09T17:12:05.111-07:00brave man with a sword<blockquote>In Reading gaol by Reading town<br />There is a pit of shame,<br />And in it lies a wretched man<br />Eaten by teeth of flame,<br />In burning winding-sheet he lies,<br />And his grave has got no name.<br /><br />And there, till Christ call forth the dead,<br />In silence let him lie:<br />No need to waste the foolish tear,<br />Or heave the windy sigh:<br />The man had killed the thing he loved,<br />And so he had to die.<br /><br />And all men kill the thing they love,<br />By all let this be heard,<br />Some do it with a bitter look,<br />Some with a flattering word,<br />The coward does it with a kiss,<br />The brave man with a sword!</blockquote><center>— "<a href="http://docs.google.com/gview?a=v&q=cache%3AydGTM3_qMjwJ%3Awww2.hn.psu.edu%2Ffaculty%2Fjmanis%2Foscar-wilde%2FBallad-Reading-Gaol.pdf+%22the+ballad+of+reading+gaol%22&hl=en&gl=us&pli=1">Ballad of Reading Gaol</a>," by Oscar Wilde, <a href="http://thebestamericanpoetry.typepad.com/files/mike-tyson-reading-from-the-ballad-of-reading-jail-1.wma">read by Mike Tyson</a><br /><br />}}{{</center>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-86957337108430056172009-09-18T12:12:00.001-07:002009-09-18T12:14:34.949-07:00passenger side<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.colerise.com/"><img src="http://www.colerise.com/photos/passengerside.jpg" /></a><br /><br />}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-77498905968033181842009-09-11T11:32:00.000-07:002009-09-11T11:54:25.549-07:00nobody likes a sleepyfacesomeone so insomniacal<br />sullen and bleary, befuddled by noise and scents<br />they deem all action too intense<br />conversation confounding with humor<br />they do not want to laugh<br />the sun is too bright<br />these clothes don't fit right<br />and their back and their neck<br /><br />nobody likes a sleepyface<br />because where is their mind<br /><br />what to do, what to do<br />misery they look it<br />they cannot think of one thing<br />except to touch their head<br />and close their eyes<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-4159441007518743782009-07-02T02:03:00.000-07:002009-07-02T02:11:10.428-07:00happy americaeventually comfortably silent. a look. laughing. in love.<br /><br />the highway. <br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-57212126571229702712009-06-02T22:45:00.000-07:002009-06-03T00:39:35.239-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matte_painting"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d5/Government_Warehouse.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <a href="http://es.geocities.com/chominart/Pangrazio.html">Michael Pangrazio</a><br />"Government Warehouse"<br />1981<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-37990461549018479702009-05-18T22:35:00.001-07:002009-05-19T18:55:20.522-07:003333people have come to this blog. strangers, most. most stay for less than five seconds. most have come because of <a href="http://untilbecause.blogspot.com/2007/09/funny-animal-group-names.html">this post</a>. and most of the rest come because of <a href="http://untilbecause.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-hours-in-darkness.html">this one</a>.<br /><br />three-thousand three-hundred thirty three. a lot of folks. someone from the Islamic Republic of Iran yesterday clicked a link that brought them here. what a time to be alive.<br /><br />3333. what kind of a year will that be? seems like a long ways in the future. and yet, would someone from 700ish A.D. be so dumbstruck by our world, as we live today? what, in all of that time, has changed so much? sure, there are all the conveniences (contrivances?) of our technologically badass society. and yet, we still live in communities, still seek love, still fight wars, still are humbled by our own smallness, still search for answers that will never come, tell stories and work each day, eat and have sex and create new generations...<br /><br />visions of the future always seem so foreign. still, while the world may change, and while we may reshape the world with our uncaring hubris and even destroy our place in it, humans will never change. all the good, all the bad, all the middle... as history has grown, as knowledge has expanded, as progress has been made... so too have the meaningful things become muddled, the important things become distant, the least valuable things given a price and the most valuable things deemed mysterious and unattainable...<br /><br />anyway, thanks for stopping by. this blog is just an elaborate way for me to say hello.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-34899044423132120142009-05-15T01:01:00.000-07:002009-07-02T02:12:06.287-07:00make believe tomorrowneed to get out the country<br />do something new<br />listen to Phish again<br />in a few days you<br /><br />feeling restless<br />like it's all falling into place<br />kind of like the paradox of time travelers<br />in the past create themselves who<br /><br />make believe a bright light see it<br />make believe nothing too<br /><br />meantime some seagulls all standing<br />in a circle in a culdesac<br />one<br />silent as the next<br />kicks a pebble stops to think<br />of flying to<br /><br />but how far when<br />tomorrow it may be nice here<br />nice<br />to stand in a circle warm asphalt<br />underfoot again<br />and to fly<br />where<br />and to wonder<br />why<br /><br />and to wonder<br />is this poem about birds or feelings?<br /><br />don't know what this is<br />about<br />or don't want to say<br /><br />maybe both<br /><br />maybe it's about traveling<br />through time<br />or how to make believe<br />tomorrow<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-58875084632052125702009-04-30T00:07:00.000-07:002009-04-30T00:37:20.296-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.perryrubenstein.com/artists/kamrooz-aram/"><img src="http://i730.photobucket.com/albums/ww304/ismateo/lastgleaming.jpg" alt="last gleaming" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Kamrooz Aram<br />“Last Gleaming”<br />2006<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{</div><span style="font-size:85%;">(<a href="http://www.kottke.org/">via</a>.)</span>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-25893762072747438262009-04-22T19:13:00.000-07:002009-05-05T23:07:26.177-07:00eleven words<a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/onymous">onymous</a><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borborygmus">borborygmi</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/velutinous">velutinous</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/haptodysphoria">haptodysphoria</a><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mamihlapinatapai">Mamihlapinatapai</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/plenilune">plenilune</a><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kar%C5%8Dshi">karoshi</a><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metempsychosis">metempsychosis</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pogonotrophy">pogonotrophy</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/xenodochial">xenodochial</a><br /><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/lexiphanic">lexiphanic</a><br /><center>}}{{</center>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-82773213836985061442009-04-09T18:20:00.000-07:002009-04-09T19:14:29.709-07:00the sound of thunderIn 1704, playwright John Dennis invented a new method of producing the sound of thunder during a play. Dennis's play was unsuccessful, but his thunder technique was soon borrowed by another production, <a href="http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/steal-ones-thunder.html">leading Dennis to exclaim</a>:<p></p> <blockquote><p>Damn them! They will not let my play run, but they steal my thunder.</p></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{</div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-61238472890913962072009-04-06T21:12:00.000-07:002009-04-09T19:30:08.287-07:00little chapA careful man I want to be,<br />A little fellow follows me;<br />I know I dare not go astray,<br />For fear he'll go the self-same way.<br /><br />I cannot once escape his eyes,<br />Whate’re he sees me do, he tries;<br />Like me he says he’s going to be,<br />This little chap who follows me.<br /><br />He thinks that I am good and fine,<br />Believes in every word of mine;<br />The base in me he must not see,<br />This little chap who follows me.<br /><br />I must be careful as I go,<br />Through summer’s sun and winter’s snow;<br />Because I am building for the years to be,<br />This little chap who follows me.<br /><br /><center><object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" width="437" height="265" id="viddler"><param name="movie" value="http://www.viddler.com/simple_on_site/69a7adff" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed src="http://www.viddler.com/simple_on_site/69a7adff" width="437" height="265" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="always" allowFullScreen="true" name="viddler" ></embed></object><br /><br />}}{{</center>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-31509077433303477282009-03-15T12:05:00.000-07:002009-03-15T12:06:20.965-07:00dwight d. eisenhower is my homeboy<center><a href="http://ffffound.com/image/9444c2a4d7f61f2fd267cdad965d76c7b4ab8b96" title="we have lasers!"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v331/windsey6/dwight.jpg" /></a><br /><br />D-Day.<br /><br />the highways.<br /><br />laserbeams.<br /><br />is he a supranatural intradimensional master of time and space???<br /><br />i think so.<br /><br />}}{{</center>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-56938501477356497472009-03-07T02:38:00.000-08:002009-03-07T03:53:01.787-08:00staying up all night listening to Phishruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuulez<br /><br />they are badass<br />modern technology is neat<br />i'm drunk & high<br />all is well<br /><br />welllllllllll in the world<br />saw a tshirt today<br />said 'the point of art is to define<br />panic'<br />thought that was an interesting point<br />concept<br /><br />point concept point<br />level-headed boy better bend<br />conceptualize the stratosphere smiling<br />a sky divided so far<br />piano deep thunder groove<br />dogmatagram fishmarket stew<br />so far smiling<br /><br />smiling big<br />breathing<br />hear the voices flutter through<br />glistening<br /><br />here<br />here in that happy place<br />inside deep inside somewhere<br />like what that guy in Bittersweet Motel with the harmonica<br />said<br /><br />everybody is here and no one is<br />it's an amazing thing<br />being<br />here<br /><br />the night expands<br />the night is long and she is meant to be<br /><br />seize her<br />celebrate<br />come from the top top mountain baby<br /><br />grow grow build build<br />where do you go<br />when the lights go out?<br />go on then<br />the night expands<br />a dream it's true<br /><br />boy<br />man<br />gawd<br />aww, shiiiiieeeeeeeet...<br /><br />gawdamm epik<br />so gawdamm epik you need a different spelling for the words<br />goddamn epic shit<br />yes you<br /><br />you need to be<br />here<br /><br />yes<br />you<br /><br />i would love to spill the beans with you till dawn<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-43928251729394462932009-02-27T00:19:00.000-08:002009-02-27T00:50:03.713-08:00diamonds on my windshield<blockquote>Diamonds on my windshield<br />And these tears from heaven<br />I'm pullin' into town on the Interstate<br />I got me a steel train in the rain<br />And the wind bites my cheek through the wing<br />And it's these late nights and this freeway flying<br />That always makes me sing<br />'Cuz lookee here<br />There's a duster tryin' to change my tune<br />He's pullin' up fast on the right<br />Rollin' restlessly by a twenty-four hour moon<br />And a Wisconsin hiker with a cue-ball head<br />Wishin' he's home in a Wisconsin bed<br />But there's fifteen feet of snow in the East<br />It's colder than a welldigger's ass<br />I said, it's colder than a welldigger's ass<br /><br />And now Oceanside, she ends the ride,<br />With San Clemente coming up<br />And them Sunday desperadoes slip by<br />And cruise with a dry back<br />And the orange drive-in, and the neon billin',<br />And the theatre's fillin' to the brim,<br />You got slave girls and a hot spur and bucket full of sin<br />In that metropolitan area<br />With all them interchanging connections<br />And fly-by-nights from Riverside<br />And out-of-state plates, running a little late<br /><br />Now the sailors jockey for the fast lane<br />So 101 don't miss it<br />You got rollin' hills and concrete fields<br />And that broken line's on your mind<br />And the 8s go east and the 5s go north<br />And the merging exits back and forth<br />You see your sign, you cross the line, you signal with a blink<br />'Cuz that radio's gone off the air,<br />Gonna give you time to think<br />And you hear the rumble as you're fumblin' for a cigarette<br />Go on blaze on through that midnight jungle<br />You remember someone and you can't forget<br /><br />And one more block, that engine talks<br />And whispers: home at last<br />I said, one more block, that engine talks<br />And whispers: home at last<br /><br />'Cuz you got diamonds on your windshield<br />And them tears from heaven<br />Pullin' into town on the Interstate<br />With a steel train in the rain<br />And the wind bites my cheek through the wing<br />It's these late nights and this freeway flying<br />That always makes me sing<br /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">- Tom Waits, "<a href="http://www.aquariumdrunkard.com/2009/02/26/tom-waits-los-angeles-72374-kpfk-folkscene/">Diamonds On My Windshield</a>"</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-10803469751623638212009-02-16T21:57:00.000-08:002009-02-16T22:18:40.464-08:00hippos on holiday<blockquote>is not really the title of a movie<br />but if it was I would be sure to see it.<br />I love their short legs and big heads,<br />the whole hippo look.<br />Hundreds of them would frolic<br />in the mud of a wide, slow-moving river,<br />and I would eat my popcorn<br />in the dark of a neighborhood theater.<br />When they opened their enormous mouths<br />lined with big stubby teeth<br />I would drink my enormous Coke.<br /><br />I would be both in my seat<br />and in the water playing with the hippos,<br />which is the way it is<br />with a truly great movie.<br />Only a mean-spirited reviewer<br />would ask on holiday from what?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">- <a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/billy-collins/">Billy Collins</a>, "Hippos on Holiday"<br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{</div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-37254102192432688222009-02-02T23:53:00.000-08:002009-02-16T22:24:33.284-08:00interpretation<blockquote> A film should stand on its own. It's absurd if a filmmaker needs to say what a film means in words. The world in the film is a created one, and people sometimes love going into that world. For them that world is real. And if people find out certain things about how something was done, or how this means this or that means that, the next time they see the film, these things enter into the experience. And then the film becomes different. I think it's so precious and important to maintain that world and not say certain things that could break the experience.<br /> You don't need anything outside of the work. There have been a lot of great books written, and the authors are long since dead, and you can't dig them up. But you've got that book, and a book can make you dream and make you think about things.<br /> People sometimes say they have trouble understanding a film, but I think they understand much more than they realize. Because we're all blessed with intuition -- we really have the gift of intuiting things.<br /> Someone might say, I don't understand music; but most people experience music emotionally and would agree that music is an abstraction. You don't need to put music into words right away -- you just listen.<br /> Cinema is a lot like music. It can be very abstract, but people have a yearning to make intellectual sense of it, to put it right into words. And when they can't do that, it feels frustrating. But they can come up with an explanation from within, if they just allow it. If they started talking to their friends, soon they would see things -- what something is and what something isn't. And they might agree with their friends or argue with their friends -- but how could they agree or argue if they don't already know? The interesting thing is, they really do know more than they think. And by voicing what they know, it becomes clearer. And when they see something, they could try to clarify that a little more and, again, go back and forth with a friend. And they would come to some conclusion. And that would be valid.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">- <a href="http://davidlynchthinksaboutthinking.ytmnd.com/">David Lynch</a>, "Interpretation," <span style="font-style: italic;">Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity, </span>pp. 19-20<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-36180296014493501952009-01-27T17:16:00.000-08:002009-01-27T17:17:40.301-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://failblog.org"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7PJjOA0nqLZnRu6mNtlDkZke43rAOAdKJdwjNkySbUOJAsLru-HuG79xrvvF1BK_xryXe_aaAF1K1OG4aQENZ2Qo170X4NBXISx8yf2Q2C3NRAsWq0xxMxRBbEr9-XuauGHk4QqJiAA/s400/tsol_aphorisms_posters23.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296147389278930706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-89957593323599305152009-01-26T16:40:00.000-08:002009-01-26T16:46:45.405-08:00joke from the Sketchfest show we went to last night<blockquote>- How many M. Night Shymalans does it take to screw in a light bulb?<br />- Four. Because his movies are so fucking terrible.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">- <a href="http://www.stellacomedy.com/">David Wain</a><br /><br />}}{{<br /></div></blockquote>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-20578999412106162652009-01-06T23:14:00.000-08:002009-01-07T01:05:55.297-08:00NYC NYEout the subway at 14th and 1st. no gloves yet. Magic Hat. salsa talk. Vusi. sofa bed. morning at Joe's. village walk. crowded rock. Miró. the way things go. Van Gogh. redhead. found wings. sister in Walnut Creek. cold in Queens. breakfast at 3pm. snow. pizza. show. unite! love. highly suspicious. late night. feels like zero. haven't thought about that in years. counterintuitive. 2/2/05. breakdown. the last one ever. what are you doing here. stand by me. what if i said. down chick. football. food network. aggressive and crisp. it's too far. Thai on a tray. donuts. decisions. pumpkin and marble. in a bank. in the park. empty trees. no time. why? The Wrestler. sprouts and spaghetti and merguez. delish. where to. check your coat. $17. bagels. like a local. City of Ember. Mac and Charlie and Dennis and Dee. a busride, a burrito and the Chargers won. surprise.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-32076654118374383432008-12-13T02:35:00.000-08:002008-12-19T00:23:03.759-08:00the most interesting questionwe say the universe is infinitely large. by describing it this way, we are saying the universe is one of two things.<br /><br />the first possibility of what we mean is that it is myriad in every moment, myriad in every possible possibility (and in every possibility of every possible possibility, etc.) -- what we are saying is that every fragmentary moment <span style="font-style: italic;">exists</span>, physically, somewhere out there on the other side(s) of the universe. when you look up at space, somewhere out there, someone -- you -- is living a life of total synchronicity, with every similarity, in sum, to your existence, except for a slight momentary change in the history of your being. and another. and another. and another... an infinity of yous. not to mention the infinities of not-you, on this world and every other, in their evolution and essence. just an entire infinity of infinite entirety.<br /><br />that's one way to look at the meaning of infinite: that the universe contains, physically, every possibility for everything ever. is this likely?<br /><br />the second meaning is that this universe of ours is so large that its size is simply beyond our comprehension. we cannot fathom how utterly huge this place is, so we call it infinitely large.<br /><br />while this second meaning seems like it may be the more-likely-to-be-accurate definition, it is still insufficient. because we are within a universe so truly all-encompassing that it goes and goes and goes and goes... on and on and on... and to our feeble cognitive ability and microscopic range of perception, it just seems to go on <span style="font-style: italic;">forever</span>. and yet: does it go on forever?<br /><br />if we are saying that the universe is just this extremely, <span style="font-style: italic;">extremely </span>large place, then surely, at some point -- in some scale of gargantuity we cannot comprehend, at some strata of creation -- there is somewhere where the universe stops. if we are saying that the universe is a vast enclosure of space and time, then, at some point, the universe <span style="font-style: italic;">must</span> have a physical end. somewhere where <span style="font-style: italic;">there is no more universe</span>. a place where the universe no longer <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span>.<br /><br />and so, the most interesting question to me is not which of these two definitions of infinite is, ultimately, the more correct one. no, the most interesting question to me is, if the universe does indeed have an end -- then what is on the other side?<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /><br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5662793097703283717.post-73077117611174570132008-12-05T07:44:00.000-08:002008-12-05T07:44:00.408-08:00youtube friday<center><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4AC3sZB-v7Q&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4AC3sZB-v7Q&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hp58_vU-XTU&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hp58_vU-XTU&hl=en&fs=1" 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pretty lights all in a row<br />across the water, a bridge across the water<br /><a href="http://www.crossingthebridge.de/">crossing the bridge</a><br />a bridge made of light pretty light<br />a bicycle rider in all black peddling<br />the mist of history in his eyes, the memory of<br />a stop sign and belonging to more<br />than this<br />more than ever<br />across the water<br /><a href="http://www.box.net/shared/8i36zb1tf6">a hip hop song</a> in his earbuds, perhaps<br />a crescendo of hope, an ocean<br />of consciousness, an ocean within,<br />a wave crashing,<br />wave after wave after<br /><div style="text-align: center;">}}{{<br /></div>ismateohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17404681213377744964noreply@blogger.com0