The Black Glove
First of all apologies to regular readers for the late posting, I have been overwhelmed with rewrites (which are now finished) and was uncharacteristically existentially exhausted afterwards. Could be a sign of the times with the strange sense of finiteness (is there such a word? – There is now) with the absolutely tragic (and totally surreal) passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett-Major all on the same day. Both icons, both embodying realms that were fantastical in their own ways. The outpouring of grief for the Peter Pan of Pop is both extraordinary, pliable and even I, hard-bitten well-lived cynic, have found myself deeply saddened. Sort of like when Princess Di died - pointless deaths that becomes this huge metaphor for us all. I suspect it lies in the vulnerability of these icons when living, and in Mr. Jackson’s case, the tragedy of talent lost. Every shop, building and even my hair dressers (there for the tri-annual visit) seems to be pumping out Thriller and Billie Jean and I suspect this is the case in every major city in the world, to the point that if there was an alien craft passing by in the galaxy and they tuned in, it would be forgivable if they assumed Michael Jackson hit songs were the Linga Franca for humanity. What was almost as fascinating was the manner in which news of his death ringed the world in minutes. I actually coped it cruising the Australian papers on line, in London, which at that time of night (early Australian morning) was among the first to have it up on site. At that point the word ‘Death’ was in inverted commas, yes, just like that, as it hadn’t yet been confirmed officially, so there was a strange free-fall of disbelief as I frantically searched all the links I could find (Google hadn’t crashed yet) to confirm the poor bugger’s demise. Amazing what a couple of commas can do and how we cling onto that moment of possible misinformation – what if it’s the wrong body, etc? That it might be just an ugly rumour. I have vivid memories as a 16 year old receiving news of my father’s accidental death from the police and cross questioning them about how they had identified him (details in his wallet) desperately wanting them to be wrong. The deaths of the great become ours because they remind us of our own losses: Memory and Myth.
Speaking of which, a chapter in one of my coffee table books –Curiosities of Literature by John Sutherland, entitled First-Night Nerves, got me thinking about how we remember then fictionalise our own adolescence and sexual awakening. Mr. Sutherland was writing about Ian McEwan’s On Chesil Beach (please note: I am a huge fan of McEwan’s, just not of that particular book) and commented on how his experience of the early 60’s was certainly not the clumsy, emotional and sexually frigid landscape McEwan’s describes in the utter inability of his young English suburban couple to consummate their honeymoon. Not my era but my parents – however I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Sutherland, after all John Updike’s accounts of love, infidelity and scandal, most of which was set in American suburbia in the same years (early 60’s) were far more salacious. Each to their own, you might say, except it’s interesting how such descriptions of historical zeitgeists become immortalised in literature and then set in the concrete of quasi-fact then quoted as the finite description of that era – ergo – all Victorians were puritans, no-one had sex before 1968, homosexuality didn’t exist before the 1890’s (thank you Oscar) and there was no economic migration before the 1920’s.
One piece of fascinating news was the arrest of the Sri Lankan astrologer this week due to his prediction of the downfall of his current President, who apparently, takes his astrology very seriously indeed. Actually, so do I, within limits. I did, however have an amusing incident in Oct 08 when two weeks before the US stock market, Merrill Lynch and Washington Mutual went down, I phoned a close (and internationally published) astrologer mate asking her whether I should sell my US portfolio as I’d read (not on her site) that my sign was in for a very rough ride financially. She reassured me that there was no correlation between astrology and the stock market. Cut to a week later and I was losing value by the second. A lesson in trusting one’s gut – which is, according to author Malcolm Gladwell of Blink – really is an unconscious accumulation of information and sharpened assessment skills -. Intelligence appears not to be necessarily a slow rational process, an observation I find consoling, and the challenge is to have the courage to act on that first instinct.
Elastic String
What is it with String theory that makes closet physicists and fantasists like myself so gripped by it? When I say closet physicist I’m exaggerating by at least ten dimensions, which is the number of, dimensions string theorists believe all of the strings of multiverse vibrates in. Something like that, as my dyslexia and number blindness makes any thing involving maths or linking mathematical properties to abstract t concepts difficult. Yes, I am mildly dyslexic – a kind of inability to link the way a word sounds to the way it might be spelt – as if there’s a couple of synapses that just won’t fire – something I’ve struggled with all my life and suffered being labelled a late developer as a child. Unfortunately this also translated into a number blindness, which drove my mathematician father crazy and lead to a horrible inability to even grasp factions. However I am very good on visionally imagining abstract concepts – so the visual idea of a infinite number of universes stretching out - a mattress of valleys and troughs - each universe, equipped with its own set of physics and logic tunnelling through into another valley – is easily conceived to someone with my overworked imagination. It’s just when bombarded with equations and sums for eternal inflation that the intellectual gyroscope starts whirling like a demented kaleidoscope.
But like many, in times of political and historical upheaval I find solace in scientific hypothesis – especially when that hypothesis advocates the notion that a. Our universe are not unique, a concept I would have said was obvious, from the time of Copernicus’s execution, but hey, I’m sure there’s a plethora of bible bashers who would disagree and b. Following that there might be alternatives to the current mismanagement of our own planet that might be a little more egalitarian and evolved.
It’s not so much the idea that string theory will end up the theory of everything and solve annoying enigmas such as black holes and badly behaved atoms as much as the notion that the universe is not alone and that perhaps it isn’t as finite as we once presumed. I guess this might directly relate to one’s own sense of mortality. We all have to die but somehow the idea that my atoms might end up floating out into 10 and not four dimensions is a little more comforting.
There’s a couple of inspiring articles I recommend in the latest two issues of New Scientist – 2/05/09 by Anil Ananthaswamy– which was a far more coherent depiction of the dilemmas and solutions to the theory and very lay person friendly – and one in the 30/5/09 by Jessica Griggs. Both of which had me lying in bed reiterating the plot of Donnie Darko and wondering (in that half-terrified way one does at 4am) whether it wasn’t time for a worm hole to appear at the foot of the bed to transport me up to somewhere where steam airships replace the subway and we all have animal spirits instead of neuroses (although in my case I suspect it would be a neurotic ferret) a la Pullman. Which brings me to my next point – why is it in Sci-fi (or scientific based fantasy novels) the laws of physics all resemble the basic laws of physics here on Earth? As far as I (the dyslexic number blind lay person) can ascertain there is no evidence that this would be the case.
And maybe, just maybe string theory – a bit like industrialisation did for the fiction of H.G. Wells etc at the turn of the 20th century – will open a whole new fictional landscape of astral visitors, alternative travel destinations and esoteric philosophy. Many would argue it has already.