i'm reading a book called The Fermata by Nicholson Baker. there's a bit where the protagonist explores a relationship between centrifugal force and life. the idea of centrifugally organizing the randomness and chaos of one's complete mentality into an imposed artificial order. Neat radial gradients of macromolecular uniformity....an intelligable fraction of one's true past self, one's frustratingly polydisperse personality, into a pellet of print.

it seems to me that these pellets, while certainly claiming soverignty over various pieces of the mind, would also contain a portion of the grander, abstract ideas. emotions, the general and permeating overlays. the context of things seperated while the connotations evenly dispersed.

there are pieces of us that we cannot disengage from. take loneliness, and more specifically, aloneness. when i was alone at home, and smoking outside (in another habitat in another phase of my life much different from this one) i would feel a jolt of uneasiness, a vague fear or imperitiveness when a housemate would drive up the lane. there was nothing defining it, but a slight fear would tapeworm itself into me suddenly, perhaps the transition from the plane of current aloneness to the plane of population. as if my mind instinctively took stock of things i may have to explain as if they were scrupulous in some way. it only lasted a second, but it was powerful.
my current location of state and space is altered quite a bit. much more at ease and without a lot of the mess i used to swim through. today i am here alone. i was smoking outside and noticed the old agitations bubbling up when i heard a car approaching. obsessing little details in my head. i can't separate myself from various integers algebraically operating inside me. while the equations can be factored down and reduced, the mathematical reality of it all continues its diffusion throughout my interior, unfettered by a centrifuges of all kinds, resilient to artificial gravity. i wonder about the point where these abstractions commit to being thus. when aloneness was an identifiable singularity before it entrenched itself throughout the mind. how can we map this area, how can we shape the equation to yeild preferred results? we can't. we just collect our fragments and store them as best we can. we are receptacles and endentured to a fixed stream of continuous experience.

manage your instruments. they play better when they're polished. when a reflection in the implemental surface can colour the music you hear. depth is the unifying aspect lending best to user friendliness.