pocket pocket

have you ever wondered about the information that is encapsulated in the spaces that we stroll through? just received a text message, which means that split-seconds ago the information was crashing its way through the air right in front of matches' face. it didn't leave much of a scent, though the context of the message was food (on some level). he is imagining that it would have been a blueberry tang latticing its way through the labyrinth of molecular structures~

but that's just it...there is so much that goes unnoticed and unregarded. we have no faculties for this perception, and perhaps it is just as well. radio wouldn't exactly work if we had sixty stations smashing together simultaneously like pots and pans between our ears. have you ever listened to a song on headphones (radiohead frequently does this) where the sound gradually sunsets from one side and rises in the other? there is a moment of precise equilibrium in there somewhere, where you can feel the focus of the noise buzzing in a specific place inside your head. it feels like a brain-itch; one of those difficult ones much like on the bottom of the foot when you have shoes on. you shift and shuffle, and it seems not to alleviate it but rather to aggravate~ that is probably what it would feel like today if we suddenly acquired fluency in radio frequencies...a spinning top cleaving its way through your mind, ever shifting and inescapable.
there are other ways in which space absorbs more information than is typical. reflections often serve as a window, giving a two-dimensional frame a depth and a picture that is entirely not its own. antimatter personally is an avid fan of people-watching, and he often observes the gallery of people biding their time on buses by way of the shadowy carbon-copies in the pane of glass next to his seat. sneaky sneaky. but the point is that in this way, a wafer of space receives an entire scene of information that didn't belong to it at any other moment. what is even more interesting is that it takes a conscious perception to pick up on this (anyone knows the properties of light, and notices that when they sway side-to-side, the reflection does as well).

this is useful because it helps us to realize how powerful our minds are in projecting and receiving this information, regardless of circumstance. will go more into that in a second, but for a practical application....next time you are playing pool and a bank-shot is necessitated, visualize in your mind the reflection of the table, right next to it, as if a pane of glass were placed right at the banking wall, or as if the table were folded over like a book being opened. aim for where you see the reflected pocket, and your shot will be true. just remember to also be a good striker and avoid putting any english on the sides ; )

the last bit of information for mattress to touch upon is the shading of emotions and thoughts upon everyday toasters and tables. the mind's eye is a chimera, and moods play an immense role upon what we think. memories can tint even the most innocuous little item. one sees something, anything, and a bolt zigzags its way through the corridors of the brain, lighting up a thousand tiny rooms with pictures, people and subliminal clutter. keeping these things down barely seems worth the effort, it can be so exhausting; objectivity is one of the most difficult riddles. in the end, you must be yourself when existing, when observing, when attributing and imagining. if anything can be learned from the profound philosophies of the whack-a-mole arcade game, it is that nothing can be gained from suppression except a momentary repose and a few tickets to be exchanged for cheap plastic frogs. but then, even cheap plastic frogs have value to some people~ cheap is in the eye of the beholder. but you know who you are, and that has more to do with the memory than the momentary charm, doesn't it? perhaps they are the same thing. regardless, it comes catapulting back when you least expect it. and that has made all the difference.

"what have I got in my pocket?
not fair! it isn’t fair, my precious, is it, to ask us what its got in its nassty little pocketses?"
~ tolkien, "the hobbit"