Sunday, May 15, 2011

Arty Lie

Blog post # 190:
(190 = 2*5*19.)

Five pictures today. (Wow!)

Toxic But Moist

Narrowly Approximate Fulcrum

Unobtainable Failure

Implicative Ooze

Molten Torque


Check out these short but appropriate anagrams:

Arty Lie


Reality TV
Tarty Evil


Dumb joke:

A short holyman who thinks everyone will go to Heaven when they die is..
a little opti-mystic...


A dumber joke:

Why does a dog like to smell another dog's butt?

It's in-stink-tive...

(I may have heard this one somewhere.)


And now, no more funny-business:

There are no more Utopias.

With even the otherwise most-liberal world societies moving to the far right lately, who will kick the fascists' asses this time, since everyone is fascist?


Poll report! Poll report!

What is the number of positive integers (in base 10) where each such number has no two or more digits with the same value?

The choices were:

There were 6 votes total. (I know, I know, the count was 12 votes. But I am sure this is due to a bug with Blogger that doubled each vote.)
And the vote was unanimous: All votes went for "infinity".

And this is unanimously WRONG!
(No such counted integer can be over 9876543210. So the answer was finite.)

The real, but unchosen, answer was 8877690.


And now another poll! Let's finish the number poem!

This does involve numbers, but not math. The numbers are more analogous to the notes of a song.

I'll start, then pick one of the one-digit numbers to be the next and final note.

Which number should finish this number poem?
"1 - 3 - 5 - 2 - 4 - 6 - 12 - 1 - 2 - 3 -..."


Two poems today. Written 2 days ago and today.

No Such Relinquishment
Is Contained

Inside this hollowness
of the apathetic knot,
Imprisoned droplets fall
diagonally and equal these
Spires. They protrude
internally into that concavity,
Into that sinful gape of
a virtuous enclosure.

And they are numbered
alphabetically but are
Yet misnamed. Yes. Quite,
they stab us despite their
Unobtainable mathematics,
despite their paradoxical
Observations otherwise unseen.
Unjustly, no such
Relinquishment is contained
within this corpse, within
This pretentious rind
drawn as solidity excepted.

Here, the droplets do hang,
do levitate between
Failure's form, between the
one dream of erroneousness
And unreality. Surely, those
drops are parallel but
Are elongated amongst their
dampening. Shapelessly,
They are pondered amongst
their epitomization. And
They are positioned amongst
an opaque hole of
Irregular sphericalness,
amongst a hole of
Truth's sad amnesia
ignorantly unreachable.


Braided Strangeness

A braided strangeness
extends through the circle
Unto another loop before it
and beyond it. And
Between it, between
that elongation, such a strand
Is thickened and is multiplicative.
Yet the
Winding rectification of
everything is entwined
To be its helix, to be
its existence rotated
About diameters each
of breadth, each of
Continuousness bent roundly.
Oh, the form of
An illogical braid,
it turns as our
Knotted axis and becomes
our human course.
Yes, we spin as we transcend,
To the lower-right.
And we suffer
That twisting and that torque,
indeed. We do wring
Our preponderances
from our wrapping,
From our mentalities
transiting their phonemes,
Transitioning their utterances
all of a molten rope,
All of this passion we force
innocently into its
Periodicity made from
angularity and anger, into its
Periodicity molded from
churning trigonmetries
(Trigonometries we
implicatively botched,
Imperatively braided).




TracyRobin said...

Hi! Please visit I have a gift to pass on to you. And I love the first image... for some reason it reminds me of birth. Love it! (no this is not spam lol)

Amorphous Trapezoid said...

Thanks, Tracy! I guess the image looks like birth of a blue person. (Hopefully that isn't too morbid. )

TracyRobin said...

Nahhh, not morbid at all... it's all in perception I reckon. lol Keep up the great work. Love it!