‘A Clogged blog! You must leave the apartment immediately and for at least 6 hours,’ he was told by one specialist. And when he did, it worked. Once back home with a bag full of newly bought used books, his head had cleared and the blog was too, but that newly available space hadn’t been filled anything novel, not then.
He knew he was late with the monthly blog and the increased (probably repeat) website traffic showed that at least some who followed it were aware of the fact too. But current events hadn’t seemed appealing subjects even with the possibilities that they might inspire. Besides, he was tired of debunking the usual Trumped up falsehoods or the prime suspects behind them. So after some thought, he took another approach.
‘Try a few beers,’ he’d heard before. ‘Then add some pot,’ also echoed in his mind - like a broken record - from a more distant source. ‘And mix in some Rolling Stones,’ he added himself, for good measure. That seemed like a good start anyway. ‘And if it doesn’t work the first time just remember that the more you keep trying the more likely you’ll find a solution.’ So he gave it a go, although after a while it sounded exactly like the proverbial gambler’s reasoned belief that one more throw of the dice could change things and win back everything he’s lost.
Still, Einstein always debated random chance, quantum weirdness and all that stuff, arguing that: “God does not play dice with the universe.” Just how he knew that fact wasn’t explained. He’d also said that doing the same thing repeatedly but expecting different results was insanity. If that was true, then so much for games of chance or ‘If at first you don’t succeed.’ No one since Big Al seemed capable of proving whether he knew what he was talking about or not, as if it were all voodoo physics or scientific mysticism. With one roll of the dice things could be true or false or constantly changing, with no one knowing at any given time what might be the case for sure, if examined closely or stepped aside from and viewed from afar. Of course all those theories might be just bullshit anyway. Perhaps physicists simply made these things up for kicks or to be popular with the girls, like Bert was, he thought. Maybe nobody really knew for sure; it was all relative, as they sometimes claimed.
- And that’s more or less what I got from my own reveries too - after trying his solutions. But the only excuse for my blog delay is that I’ve been ploughing my way through Marcel Proust’s seven-volume stream of consciousness recently and while its length does not deter me, reading it does addle the mind enough to make constructive thought difficult afterwards.
He knew he was late with the monthly blog and the increased (probably repeat) website traffic showed that at least some who followed it were aware of the fact too. But current events hadn’t seemed appealing subjects even with the possibilities that they might inspire. Besides, he was tired of debunking the usual Trumped up falsehoods or the prime suspects behind them. So after some thought, he took another approach.
‘Try a few beers,’ he’d heard before. ‘Then add some pot,’ also echoed in his mind - like a broken record - from a more distant source. ‘And mix in some Rolling Stones,’ he added himself, for good measure. That seemed like a good start anyway. ‘And if it doesn’t work the first time just remember that the more you keep trying the more likely you’ll find a solution.’ So he gave it a go, although after a while it sounded exactly like the proverbial gambler’s reasoned belief that one more throw of the dice could change things and win back everything he’s lost.
Still, Einstein always debated random chance, quantum weirdness and all that stuff, arguing that: “God does not play dice with the universe.” Just how he knew that fact wasn’t explained. He’d also said that doing the same thing repeatedly but expecting different results was insanity. If that was true, then so much for games of chance or ‘If at first you don’t succeed.’ No one since Big Al seemed capable of proving whether he knew what he was talking about or not, as if it were all voodoo physics or scientific mysticism. With one roll of the dice things could be true or false or constantly changing, with no one knowing at any given time what might be the case for sure, if examined closely or stepped aside from and viewed from afar. Of course all those theories might be just bullshit anyway. Perhaps physicists simply made these things up for kicks or to be popular with the girls, like Bert was, he thought. Maybe nobody really knew for sure; it was all relative, as they sometimes claimed.
- And that’s more or less what I got from my own reveries too - after trying his solutions. But the only excuse for my blog delay is that I’ve been ploughing my way through Marcel Proust’s seven-volume stream of consciousness recently and while its length does not deter me, reading it does addle the mind enough to make constructive thought difficult afterwards.
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