Saturday, 28 July 2012

A True Love Story (Part 3)

The woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground really did lose her concentration just outside the man who couldn't open doors' flat.

She fumbled for her Critique as she rose above the railings. She read the following passage:

'Can it be that this requirement of reason has been wrongly treated in being viewed as a transcendental principle of pure reason, and that we have been over-hasty in postulating such an unbounded completeness of the series of conditions such as unbounded completeness of the series of conditions in the objects themselves.'

The woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground hovered for a moment considering this question then began to rise again.

She desperately flicked through the Critique again reaching the window where the man who couldn't open doors looked out at the world.

The man who couldn't open doors looked at the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground.

He fell in love.
And she dropped The Critique of Pure Reason.

The man who couldn't open doors opened his window. (Windows were no problem for the man who couldn't open doors.)
'Do you have a book I could read?' asked the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground.
'Sorry, I don't' said the man who couldn't open doors.
'Tell me something interesting quickly then' begged the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground as she floated passed the window.
'I can't open doors' said the man who couldn't open doors.

This made the woman sink low enough for the man who couldn't open doors to grab hold of the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground and pull her into his flat.

The man who couldn't open doors spent the afternoon talking the woman down from the ceiling by asking her square roots.

'What is the square root of 6?'
'What is the square root of 16?'

By some stroke of luck the man who couldn't open doors was wonderful at square roots.

After that the man who couldn't open doors and the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground saw each other often.

Whenever they went anywhere the man who couldn't open doors climbed onto the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground's back.

Whenever they needed to open a door the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground would open the door and whenever the man who couldn't open doors felt the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground begin to float off he would ask her what the square root of some number was. 

On the woman's birthday the man who couldn't open doors bought her Kant's Critique of Judgement and Phenomenology of Spirit by Hegel, he had been recommended it by the book seller when he told her he was looking for a book for a woman who had to concentrate. 
They were very happy together.

People thought they looked strange but didn't concern themselves with them a great deal having their own set of problems to deal with.

The man who couldn't open doors and the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground went to see a film. It didn't have much of a plot and the man who couldn't open doors had to whisper square roots to the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground.

The man who couldn't open doors and the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground really did walk through a park after the film and the man who couldn't open doors really did kiss the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground.

She fluttered a little off the ground.
Then he asked her what the square root of 7 was.
Then he kissed her again.
Then she fluttered some more.
Then he asked her what the square root of 4 was.

This went on and on and soon the man and the woman were naked and the man was asking questions about quadratic equations and the general law of relativity.

They were the most wonderful questions anyone had ever asked in the history of the world.

The man who couldn't open doors and the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground made love.

Then the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground drifted off into space and was lost amongst the stars.


This is a true love story. Something like this really happened.


Saturday, 21 July 2012

A True Love Story (Part 2)

There really was a woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground.


Her mother, while pregnant with her, had taken one too many headache pills and she, as a result, had to concentrate to stay on the ground.


The outside terrified the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground. To lose concentration while outside could mean death in the upper atmosphere, cold and alone.


Before going out the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground covered her shoes in glue.


She slept tied to her bed and never opened her window at night.


When the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground was a girl she had a special note from her mother saying that she didn't have to go outside during breaks.


She spent her breaks in classrooms reading and sometimes looking through the window.


The woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground didn't have any friends. She couldn't afford them, she couldn't let them distract her.


She didn't allow herself to be happy.


She worked on a PhD on Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason which kept her feet firmly on the ground. The woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground always carried a copy of the Critique with her. If the woman who had to concentrate to stay on the ground felt herself begin to float off she flicked through her Critique looking for an underlined passage like:


'The necessity of existence can never be known from concepts, but always only from connection with that which is perceived in accordance with Universal laws of experience.' 


or


'Before constructing any objective judgement we compare the concepts to find them identity (of many representations under one concept) with a view to universal judgements, difference with a view to particular judgements, agreement with a view to affirmative judgement, opposition with a view to negative judgements, etc' 

It was her lifebuoy.

Saturday, 14 July 2012

A True Love Story (Part 1)

This is a true love story. Something like this really happened.


There really was a man who couldn't open doors.


He just couldn't do it. It was a curious gap in his retinue of skills. Something that had mysteriously passed him by. The man who couldn't open doors was utterly terrible at job interviews, his first impression being that of an idiot unable to grasp the rudiments of door opening.
'Sorry. It must have been stuck' he would say as someone came to his aid.


He was unemployed. He hadn't done well in school. There are lots of doors in schools. He was invited to parties but always ended up in hallways. He spent his youth in hallways and wandering the streets.


The man who couldn't open door didn't have much of anything, all his possessions had been stolen from his little flat because he had to leave his door ajar all the time, so he could get in and out to buy food and collect his income support. The local kids had found out long ago that the man who couldn't open doors left his front door open all the time.
 At first the man who couldn't open doors tried to make it look as if the door was closed but the local kids applied a rigorous scientific method and robbed him blind.


All the man who couldn't open doors had in his flat was a poster of Mao Tse-Tung. (The previous tenant had let it.)


The man who couldn't open doors got used to having no possessions at all.


The man who couldn't open doors sat in his empty room with the picture of Chairman Mao Tse-Tung and looked out the window.


The man who couldn't open doors like windows. He would spend all his time looking out of his little window that had a GreenPeace sticker in the corner. (The previous tenant had left it.)


Like all of us the man who couldn't open doors coped. He did what he could, looking out his little window at the world.

Saturday, 7 July 2012

My K yboard

My k yboard is old. All the blood, hairs and rhino horn dust, lik  dirt und r fing rnails, have clog d it up. I can't typ the l tt r  .

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