ghosts

(I hate to go on and on about a stupid birthday, but it did cause some notable disruptions, including:)

Three nights of the 33rd birthday: three friends of birthdays past, present, and future.

Actually, they didn't come in that order. Here is the account, in pseudo-archaic English, for distance and comedy:

Birthday eve, I drank with the Man of the Past, in an empty pub in the Old Town. Fifteen years older than yours truly, this dissipated fellow, his life a perpetual shambles. Failed in love, in work, trapped forever in some youthful heyday. I have not followed his path, but he brings to mind other possibilities, other ways to fail. Should I feel fear or relief?

Birthday night, I met with the Man of the Future. Nine years younger he, the enthusiastic student, excited thinker. We drank in a crowded tavern in the student ghetto, talked philosophy and science. Across the street we went, and watched a metal show. I never was exactly in his place, but there are clear parallels. Wonder I where he'll go, and where I've gone. Should I feel elation or regret?

Birthday morrow, in the morning I met with the Man of the Now. Our age is the same, down to half a year. We drank coffee in a crowded diner, ate eggs and toast. We went to the market, and I shewed him the Cleveland Circle. We aren't the same, but neither is ahead, neither is behind, neither is greater, neither is smaller. The magnitude of our respective courses seems the same. I feel what I am today.

This weird trilogy is a fact. I wondered if I could make a little parable out of it, and that's the best I will do. I'm going to tag this entry as a coincidence, although really it's an instance of symmetry, which maybe actually is a type of coincidence - or, maybe coincidences are types of symmetry. Argh.

birthday post!

(general dispatch)
Ok, so, I was born on Friday the 13th of July, 1979. Five years later, in 1984, the date fell on Friday again; then again six years later, in 1990; then again 11 years later, in 2001. It happened again in 2007, which completed a whole cycle: 5/6/11/6. This is how the constant seven day cycle of week days aliases with the yearly cycle of 365+1/4 days. So, the next time this will happen will be in 2018; then a long wait until 2029; and so on. This 28-year 5/6/11/6 cycle keeps up until the end of this century, when we skip the leap year in 2100. Then there's a phase shift, where the position of the cycle moves - but the cycle continues. The same cycle holds whatever your birthday is (the phases are different), unless you were born on leap day, in which case you have a much, much, much slower cycle.

The point is, I may be 33 solar cycles old, but I am only through 5 solar-week cycles, and I am barely more than 1 meta-solar-week old.

***

i am now 33.

gonna try to accomplish some work today. on so many verges at once, how can i fail?

also, i think that this is technically my 200th post on this journal/blog/thing. could change later, since maybe someday i will go back and clean out some of the less respectable ones, making this less than 200th. i am not above that.

but on my 33rd birthday, this was my 200th post, that will be true whatever i do.

excelsior!

a poem about physics

begin by recognizing everything
once all facts are forgot

only when all was forgotten
can we say it was known

then the tense is correct

air presses me, i press the earth
but we don't pass through

these texts,
they say what we once knew

you learn the math
and the shape of space

you learn the motion of the worlds
and the age of the expanse

and you learn its end and beginning
because these are what we remember

but the heart is forgot
these pieces, that produce these ends

see how they mesh together

all have these types
and all are countered

some are manifest
while others abide

some transmit
while others hide

the forces four are only fragments
at the start there was just one

but we can bring them back
together with effort

give it a try
some of the elements
are soft

break them apart
to see what they are

break space itself
see what a piece becomes

no i

hey.

got this paper to work on - been working on it all day. for the last month or two, actually, with some interruptions. also, got that report to finish. and still haven't started collecting data on that rivalry thing. and what's new? anything else in the pipeline? not exactly. a bunch of computer stuff. got to write a review paper for a conference. need to generate some new grant ideas.

don't really feel like doing any of that right now. back kind of hurts. hurt it last year. spent a month on the first version of the fellowship proposal, spent a month sitting typing and reading. got out of that month, went and worked out hard. got tired, worn out. no problem. came home, picked up the cat bucket - not going to explain what the cat bucket is or why it needs to be picked up - and sproing, something went. so now it comes and goes, and now it's summer, time to train and work, and it's come. aggravation.

this summer is like stasis. waiting. nothing happening now. no big changes. no big plans. nothing to look forward to. nothing to be afraid of. turning 33 friday. 33.

could be playing the piano, but the neighbors don't like it so late. got a complaint a few weeks ago. oh well. could be reading a book. started a good one this weekend. "daily life in china on the eve of the mongol invasion". jacques gernet, 1959. academic study, history, culture, anthropology. gift from elizabeth, probably 17 or so years ago. never read it. it's been waiting for this moment, when finally it gets picked up, finally in the right place at the right time.

so, still getting books from elizabeth, she's been gone more than 2 years now.

will do that. get up in a minute, go lay on the bed and read that book. too much sitting here, waiting to start work, start at 11, finish at 1. why? sometimes it's a good idea. not always. jingping just came over, now the mind is changing. might type a bit on that paper. discussion has points to add. ideas to arrange. the rest is basically done. a few features to fix. not many decisions left.

what else? seemed like there was something else. days seem empty. nothing new coming in. jingping so busy. work is all ethereal. birthday coming. dread.

supposed to go out with r* tomorrow night. see if he shows. intuitive estimate odds 4-1 against. joked elliptically about going drinking with j*, then felt guilty about it.

dread and boredom. o july!