Thursday, February 15, 2007

The Theory of Everything

Every so often, one of us takes a run at a wall.

But the wall knows all too well about what it is to exist and a poor adventurous writer will brain him/herself
against it, like a mole digging and hitting a rock.


Shake off the old whiskers, paw at the reddened nose. Something wrong with the plan.

In my "Light Over Newmarket", I had a slightly maddened scientist go off to try to find the theory of everything.
He had worked it all out, he had read his Einstein, his Niels Bohr, his Planckt--yeah, even his plankton!

He was going to find the theory of everything, especially how physics affects people, the way we are and among whom we move.

Hit a rock.

Sore nose.

And constipated.. Can't pass a thing.

The great Borges tried it.

Struck blind.

But came back with wondrous art.

For my Kevin Logan, there was something wrong with the plan.

It seems he did a reverse Borges. He started out blind.

Every day we are bombarded by the Theory of Everything. Three a.m. and the scientists are in there pitching on the the public channels, the Bohrs Continuum now permeates our classes in Physics, The Big Bang is all around the seminars. Chatty scientists make good dollars on the lecture circuits.

My Kevin Logan had to find out for himself.

Leaves wife, hearth, family, job, warmth and security to find the Theory of everything.

But on the way he meets a beautiful woman, who says, I can give you all you need; I can supply all the knowledge you need. You have landed on a planet that can fulfill every one of you needs. Even your intellectual needs. And so, her alien hands do a turn and she suddenly produces a flower. And then a picture of a past love.

The seeker does not believe his luck. He had set off to find the theory of everything, and here she was. Isis.
Ishtar. Nuit. Goddess of the sky.

F*cking witch.

Literally. F*cking witch. Fucks his brains out.

Feebleminded professor.

This encounter, of course, relegates Isis to history and our poor professor is even farther back than he first started.

Theory of everything.

Catching Hemingway's fish.

If only the quest was as easily explained as in the old fisherman's tale.

The quest is quite something else.

Trying to find Immanuel Kant, our poor seeker ended up with Moira Cunt . Blue Angel. Finally laughing at the professor, makes him put on a clown outfit and crow like a rooster. He has not yet come across what will be the soundtrack of his life. Alice in Chains.

And he thought that he knew so much, had taken particle physics, sociology, had read his Robert Frost.

Ecce Homo.
No, not in contemporary trems. Human, all too human. Also Sprach Friedrich Nietzsche!

Professor Kevin Logan, trying to be the Superman, trying to steal fire from the gods, but ending up all too human.

Prometheus bound.

Lost everything, wife, home, job and jockstrap.

And one day, as he is sitting on a rock scouring for cops in the park, it suddenly rains down on him.

All science is in a religious matrix. All sex is in a Hollywood matrix.

Cosmology is attempt to find God.

Sexual athleticism is an attempt to find Marilyn Monroe.

So Einsten was a religious nut?

More properly a religious person.

Certainly after he riffed his sister-in-law. This made him thoughtful. Very thoughtful.

Like it made my poor hero, Dr. Kevin Logan.

Finally, Kevin Logan writes an epilogue for his quest. The travelling is done, all done.

Arada the ascetic was sitting under a tree.

The tree is shimmering in the heat.

A voice comes out of the tree and says: "Arada, I am thisty. Get me water!"

"I will, my Lord," says Arada

But on the way to the water, Arada meets a woman and her father. And the father is very rich.

And Arada soon marries and he is very wealthy. Pear trees grown in his fields.

But one day a great earthquake shakes the land. The ground opens up, swallows the wife, the child and then the second child lost in a fissure as Arada tries to pull him out.

Half mad, wandering, Aradoa is brough before the same tree.

"ARADA!" screamed the god. "WHERE IS MY WATER?"

Right here, dear god, right here. Take it. Take it now. Before the final humiliation. For you are a thirsty god and I know you're going to want more.

Until I learn.


Sela Carsen said...

A familiar story, but strangely hopeful. I like it, Ivan!

ivan said...

Thank you, Sela.

I know what you mean by familiar story.