Mind Twister

Blog post # 110:

Today's pictures:

Contiguously Undescribable


Citrus Tasting Of Iridescence


Astigmatically Calcified


Yes, I know, I know. The word is not "UNdescribable". It is "INdescribable". But I am just being clever in my stupidity.

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Anagrams:

Police = Cop Lie

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I sit on my profound ass.
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It's of your mind; so snap.

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Gluey Inertias
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I gel; I turn easy.


(Yes, I know, I know. It should be "I turn EASILY." Whatever, never clever.)

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Is It Possible To Imagine The Unimaginable?

Well, I just spoke of it. So, in an incomplete way, I have imagined the unimaginable. And now you are imagining it too.

But, really, is EVERYTHING imaginable? Or are some things absolutely unimaginable? Is absolute nothingness imaginable? Or is nothingness not complete nothingness once you think of it (because within it exists that which is imagined -- so it is not complete nothingness anymore).

Let us say that you can't imagine 27-dimensional space. That doesn't necessarily mean that it doesn't exist. But what do we mean by "imagine" it, anyway? We can talk about 27-dimensional space and discuss its mathematical properties. But that doesn't mean we can see it within our mind.

Are some things not even discussable because they are so weird? Are some things so unimaginable that we can't even think about whether they exist or not? (Even though I just did.)

What if the rules of logic were so twisted by some members of the set of Everything (capital E), that those things were absolutely unimaginable, even though they exist? Maybe they twist logic so much that, even though I am discussing them right now, they are impossible to ever think about.

Oh, things to think about. My head hurts.

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A poem I wrote -- plagiarized, really -- yesterday about the middle picture above:

This Psychedelic Fruit
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Ah, I despised this psychedelic fruit, despised
The spheroid of such a citrus. It peel, oh, it
Is fluidic and iridescent with the colors
Of an artificial spectrum. And its flesh too
Is aswirl with this beautiful torrent,
With the indescribable juice glowing of
Aromatic glass. And in its peel, the images
Flow as quite a euphoric current. But the
Fruit is sectioned into asymmetric wedges.
Yes, it is cut to reveal its inner madness.
And its pulp glistens of geometry. Yes,
This fruit tastes of its syrup now
Depicted. In its transformation, in its death,
It is resurrected. I sip its soup of that
Illumination. And it enlightens me to the
Shapes and flavors beyond us. It enlightens me
To the tastes of all permutations of steam
Thusly thirsty, yet quenched spectacularly
By assumptions of sweetness.

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Leroy