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I wonder who thinks calculus is part of geomorphology?
Topology, a branch of mathematics, is sometimes called rubber sheet geometry.
It’s a sad world when mathematicians have to study the sheets of those of us who have leaky bladders.
However, if Tracy Emin’s bed is a work of art it extends the possibilities for scientists and mathematicians.And this needed because with all academics having to publish very frequently they might run out of topics.
So we might have a study of duvets and the different shapes they might assume when they are covering just one person, two people, three people and since we are mathematicians, we could study their shapes when covering an infinite number of people.
Alternatively how about the effect of one person being covered by an infinite number of duvets?
Would it be aleph-null the infinity of the rational numbers or aleph 0ne [the infinity of the real numbers]?
Aleph one is the bigger of the two .
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet… and it is used because mathematicians already have used up the Greek alphabet.
So now we use the Hebrew one which is slightly different.
If you learned calculus you will recall all those delta x’s and delta y’s.
This makes me think calculus is part of geomorphology and I do believe that geomorphology which studies the surface of the earth is linked to the love and study of the mother’s face and body by human infants.
So calculus is linked to the studied love of babies.Can it be that if you had a disturbed infancy you will find mathematics very hard? Plastic geometry and plastic surgery will be dealt with later but obviously again it is linked to love or hate of the body though our bodies are not usually made from plastic but who knows the future?
The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm They have their form, their shape, their wistfulness What is dead no longer does us harm
Thus being dead is no cause for alarm There is no need to suffer loneliness The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm
As they age, they look like a dead palm The sort we got in church had comeliness What is dead no longer does us harm
The secret of good lives is keeping calm And looking at the world with gratefulness The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm
Meditation on dead flowers is balm We fear no longer our own death’s fullness What is dead no longer does us harm
Waste not time in hateful wilfulness We sing with love our own dawn choruses The dead flowers in the vase have certain charms What is dead no longer may alarm
A wonderful word is subliminal
To misuse such a word would be criminal
So never use this word
To say something absurd.
Your punishment won’t be sub-minimal
It is a truth totally unacknowledged by human beings that Professor of Linguistics and Word Mismanagement Rosa Benchez hates her own name.It is for this reason, she is keen to get married.Unfortunately ,her only suitor is Charlie Blogge. the well known TV biology expert Does Rosa Blogge sound any better, she asked her friend Amy Panicker. I find it hard to judge ,Amy answered. Ar least it’s not Bloggess. But there is another answer. Rosa and her cat Lucy looked up expectantly. Go on tell us! Change your first name.Have you got any other name besides Rosa? Don’t say Wooden or Iron,I beg you. Rosa looked surprised. In a way that is harder emotionally,she began, because that’s what all my friends and family call me They must have been dim to call you Rosa, Amy cried. Don’t say that.Who wants to be compared to a light bulb? Well ,who wants to be compared to rows of benches? Amy retorted. Well. grandad was called I.Ron Benchez. Rosa shouted.He was from the USA. Thank God ,he is not the President,Amy smiled I think that is stupid.The name of the person has no bearing on how they can lead a government. Well,how about Trump? Is it a real name or did they pick it from knowing the word trump from card games,Amy asked quietly I have no idea,said Rosa.I shall look it up now Wow, you have a new iPhone! Charlie gave it to me,Rosa confessed shyly, blushing dark pink You had better check whether he is tracking you, Amy told her anxiously.You never know what men will do nowadays. But can’t you track folk on Samsungs or Nokia Lumias? said Rosa in her mellow voice. I don’t think it is very romantic to give a lady a smartphone instead of some jewellery,Amy cried. You can sell jewellery but who wants a second-hand iPhone. As a matter of fact ,some old Nokias from the 90’s are now worth a few hundred pounds So if you have one keep it unless your home is already overflowing with collections of pens,watches old newspapers and cats like my friend Percival’s, Rosa retorted. Percival? what is his last name? Joyce.Rosa whispered.He is related to the writer James Joyce. Rosa Joyce…. how does that sound? Well as you know any word you keep repeating begins to sound odd and the same is true of names.Even the nicest name like Katherine With-Doubt begins to sound odd when delivery men ask you for it. Are you with doubt? one had asked her, she told me Who is without doubt? she had replied courteously. Who indeed said the clever Polish doctor working in the UK delivering stuff for Amazing,dot com.He lives round the corner: Thom Without-Doubt Thank God you are not called that. Amy asked Rosa if she could make a pot of tea.They sat in the old orange walled kitchen eating cream crackers and cheese and sipping hot tea. Lucy was eating some cat biscuits and suddenly had a good idea Why don’t you and I swap names, she mewed to Rosa with a loving smile. Do you know,said Rosa, I am so fed up with names I shall change mine to a number if we carry on like this Do you think 678 Benchez sounds any better,giggled Amy. I was thinking more of a name like Platonic form or pyramid How does Platonic Benchez sound. Or Platonic Blogge? And so ask all of us.
Mary was just running out of the front door when she realised she had not combed her hair. She looked around, and found a small wire brush labelled,”For nubuck and suede shoes”….. Peering into the old mirror she ran it though her gold and silver hair,powdered her nose with her Estee Lauder natural beige foundation in powder form and slapped some coral lipstick on with haste.. and accuracy. Right,that’s it,she thought.Enough to show willing. She met her old friend Maureen at the bus stop. Have you been seeing Joel again? Maureen asked naughtily. No,I’ll be damned if I see him again,Mary said shyly.He told me he was living alone in a large house up the hill, then I met him with his wife.Who was he trying to fool? Maybe he hoped you would not notice? Not notice what,her wedding ring? Luckily the bus came down the road and stopped beside them.They jumped on and ran to the back. for a gab. Are you going shopping? Maureen asked. No,I am going to take some photos of the jazz band playing on the pavement by the bank… but I told Stan I was going to the pharmacy to buy some Vaseline…. Why,does he not like you taking photos? Not when an old boyfriend of mine is in the band. Exactly how old is the boyfriend? About 69 I guess. Well he’s not that old! He is an ex I should have said.I knew him in primary school and used to ride his tricycle.He was my first love.We were only 5 years old.I think it was his red curls and the tricycle that attracted me… but we split up when we were 6. Surely Stan would not be jealous;it is 63 years ago, And to me it was like last year!Well. you know time does not exist in the Unconscious. How wonderful. Yes and no.Good memories can be there but also pain can seem as if it just happened even when it is from 50 years ago. Have you had a lot of men admiring you,dear? How would I know?There could be thousands if they were too shy to speak. You know what I mean! Not so many.. I had my second when we were 10.He had golden hair and long eye lashes and lots of games in boxes.He was very sweet but we were to young to be engaged so I decided to give men up and study mathematics instead as that has its own icy beauty… Wel,,nice meeting you.Have you dyed your hair;it’s got brown streaks. Oh,dear,Mary thought.Is it shoe polish? But who polishes suede shoes nowadays? Stan was following Mary on his Face Bike.He was watching her from behind the bike racks in front of the HSBC Bank… Mary had had many bikes in her life.. what would a fortune teller make of that,he asked himself. Still,she had no idea Stan was nearby as she wandered nonchalantly along the grey pavement in her Rosella dress and Gabor suede Mary Janes.. Now then, where shall I go to take the photos,she thought…maybe I’ll sit outside this Coffee Shop and pretend to feel faint if anyone asks me to buy coffee… she opened her bag and took out her Kindle Paperwhite… she was reading, Creative Imagery and Healing… and also Cars and Peace by Leo Wholeshaw.. a futuristic novel set in North London.In the first chapter a grandmother has been beheaded in North London. That’s a bit far fetched,Mary had thought when she read it but in fact Wholeshaw had been right on the ball when he wrote his e book and self published it on Cramuzon for £3.89… I wonder if I’d like to write a novel, Mary mused… just then she saw Stan on the other side of the road talking to a blonde bombshell dressed all in pink. I see,she thought.He didn’t know I’d be here as the pharmacy is half a mile away. Who is watching whom?Well.the morals be lacking but my grammar is incorrect, damn it! And so swear of us
I had to go to the hospital for a Custord Capote.A A cursed analogy in other words.
If that’s artificial intelligence then give me real intelligence any day.
The doctor said,
I want to put a camera into your bladder.
So I said to her Doctor, you must be deluded; how can you expect me to believe that you can put a camera like the one I’ve got here in my pocket into my bladder when the only way in is a very very tiny hole about 5 millimeters in diameter.
And anyway what were her motives?
She smiled belligerently. It’s a very small camera.
But it is still bigger than a molecule, I said superstitiously.
Well I don’t know she said wisely because I’ve never seen a molecule.
Anyway, if you put this camera into my bladder, how on earth will you get it out again? Or is it going to be a permanent fixture so that you can see into my bladder any time of the night or day? I’ve never heard of this before but spies are everywhere now
Don’t worry it’s in a little plastic tube and at the end there’s a little pointed knife so I can cut a bit of your skin off. I may not have to do that but we can if it’s necessary.
Well doctor I know that men are afraid of having their penis cut off and now I feel a little bit like that although I know the bladder is not a sexual organ.
Do stop overthinking she told me courageously. Just shut up and keep quiet like all the other patients do.
Then lie down on this bed and pull your trousers down. I’ve never had such a nuanced conversation. The British are famous for being tactful and also for being ironical; can you guess which I am being now?
As soon as I did what she wanted she’s stuck her great big needle into my bum claiming it was an antibiotic.
Well I know that was a lie because antibiotics come in little bottles from the pharmacy. Antibiotics don’t come in the shape of needles although I am not very knowledgeable about biochemistry or any kind of chemistry except the chemistry of love.
Well after that it’s all a blur .The nurse gave me a piece of kitchen paper.
That’s to wipe yourself she said.
What’s the point when your bladder is always leaking unless you’re on penicillin or ciprofloxacin or another very dangerous drug which can affect your mental state profoundly.
So I’d rather leak than go mad. People seem to think that if you go mad you don’t know what is happening you don’t know what you’re doing and so you’re happy but it’s not true.If you go mad it’s terrifying. And the mental health services in Britain are not very good so you might be discharged after two days treatment a and hang yourself. Yes, it’s that bad for some people. On a lighter note sometimes the madness only lasts for a few hours like when you’re on steroids
I might be more likely to believe in god if there were some medication for rheumatoid arthritis or drug resistant infections that did not cause such side effects.
Anyway they gave me a cup of tea and then I went to the Loo.
Then I came back and I thought to myself
They never showed me the pictures from the camera
I could have put them in the computer and changed the colours and used them to illustrate my blog
It’s like going through the labours of Hercules or some other initiation process. And what happens when you get to the end of the seven horrible events or trials? That is something that I have yet to find out but when I do you’ll be the first to learn about it
And if they give me the photographs I’ll publish them here as I know you can’t wait to see them.
My old blue fountain pen allows
The ink across the page to flow
Like wet paint from an artist’s brush;
And words come in a rush.
Enchanted by the hand that writes,
Bewitched by art, beauty alights.
The script is like a music score
Through which you pass as through a door.
Imagination’s home.
As,mysteriously, to you,to me,
The spirits of our hearts are tamed,
By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind.
They enter vision quite unplanned,
Like moths to flutter softly round
Fire joined heart and hand.
The pen slows down,the hand goes still,
And just as dreams at daybreak will,
They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone,
And now this poem is done.
And now I can’t afford too eat. They treat us poor like swine.
I wander round et roads and streets Where us childer used to play.
And as I walk ahm wonderin’
Where I’ll get fed t’day.
Yet I know there’s magic for I saw Ten thousand angels filled with joy
Their voices ,soft like molten gold, Just as the Bible had foretold.
I saw three Shepherds cross our street
Though us folk have no flocks of sheep.
I saw three Magi comin’ here
They were stood right over there. One had gold and one had myrrh, Frankincense the third King bore.
As I’ve no job to tie me down
I followed them to Bethlehem town. And in a manger lay the Christ,
As round the world,your rich men diced.
Mary touched my wounded soul. Jesus’ life has made me whole You see a tramp beg in your Malls, You don’t see Jesus Christ at all. Yet I, a tramp,a worthless man, Have seen the heart of Bethlehem
Mary was just running out of the front door when she realised she had not combed her hair.
How my heart speaks 