(2009) musings

I used to wonder this when I was a kid in Wainuiomata

In astrophysics and physical cosmology, Olbers’ paradox is the argument that the darkness of the night sky conflicts with the assumption of an infinite and eternal static universe. It is one of the pieces of evidence for a non-static universe such as the current Big Bang model. The argument is also referred to as the “dark night sky paradox” The paradox states that at any angle from the earth the sight line will end at the surface of a star. To understand this we compare it to standing in a forest of white trees. If at any point the vision of the observer ended at the surface of a tree, wouldn’t the observer only see white? This contradicts the darkness of the night sky and leads many to wonder why we do not see only light from stars in the night sky.

Guilty!

Rhetological fallacies

Success

People indoctrinated by a system, who then regurgitate it back into that system, which rewards them for it.

Rubbish feeding rubbish creating rubbish.

Aldgate Bus Exchange

Their parent has left them in the car, window rolled down. There is a box of latex gloves (?) on dashboard, and the older girl grabs one, blows it up like a balloon: she has done this many times before. She lets the air escape, and it blows into her face. she is singing a song, smiling open-mouthed; loud, but silent from this side of the glass. Her younger brother is lucky to have her entertain him and care for him. It’s good that they have each other, in the car parking lot.

Boeing

Frozen, each moment, by the grip of death. Of those around me, close to me. This most sharp when mid-flight, not when I’m at the controls (too occupied with steering, paying attention to instruments, watching position of horizon), but seated at the window, watching navigational lights flicker and illuminate the shrouding cloud, hearing machinery flutter, lurch, and feeling inertia from fluctuating momentum and acceleration below my seat, where an engine lives. This airline landed in a river last week. We are not supposed to fly. I have a fear of heights. Vertigo – sweat spreading up my palms to my fingertips, a rapid irrational paranoia and paralysis. Always seduced by staring down, at ethereal veils of community-sewn lights, 40, 000 feet away. Addiction to standing on ledges, imagining the gulping, breath-pilfering descent, resultant from an impulsive plunge. An impulse I’m always on the edge of. Doesn’t everybody want to jump? Over and over again? Lose everything, push every item of value to the teetering brink of shattering, heartbreaking collapse? Normalise extremity, peaks and troughs.


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