Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Eight Below Zero

Negative numbers used to freak me out. I remember Algebra 1 in high school. The concepts of negative and imaginary numbers blew my mind. How could something as tangible as adding apples and counting on our fingers be reduced to something imaginary and negative? Even when I was not holding up my fingers, they existed.

I needed a Sesame Street episode on that shit pronto.

Then I got a paycheck and a bank account. I learned all about negative and imaginary numbers. The something that is not there. The winter is about that too, not just in the bizarre temperatures, record-breaking and whatnot, but in the nothing that is there and the nothing that is not there. Wind takes up most of the empty spaces, but also the cold itself is thick, chewy, biting--it's no wonder we all personify winter--it's almost a living thing (all fucking irony here since most stuff is DEAD in the winter.)

I've written about this before--from the Wallace Stevens poem--but it's a concept, like imaginary numbers--that I keep revisiting.

Can you get something from nothing (hello God)? Can nothing be there, or here? What lives in the spaces between the positive and negative? Is there a beat there? (Bring that beat back, bring that beat back--you wanna hear that beat, right?)

Is any thing or anyone truly binary?

101000011101010101010100000111101011101111010101010

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