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a waste of energy

drmovingcar

“Heat is inherently untidy. It is the most disorderly form of energy. However, all the other forms of energy, when used, are converted into the energy of heat, so that the tendency is for all the energy in the universe to fall into a state of disorder. Because of its random nature, heat, even when it is in a concentrated form—say in the boiler of an engine—cannot be converted one hundred percent into mechanical work. If all the molecules in the heat source could be lined up and made to move in the same direction, pushing a piston, then the entire amount of heat would be converted into work. But this can never happen. For the very reason that the molecules of a hot gas are all vibrating, rotating, colliding, and rushing about in all directions, only a part of their energy is actually applied to driving the engine.”

—Jeremy Campbell, Grammatical ManGrammatical Man : Information, Entropy, Language, and Life (Touchstone: Simon and Schuster, 1982). 'where linguistics meets physics', kinda. . .

If you are reading this you are a person. Person is nothing but a word for the random dimensional experience you are having in the constant stream of sensation and stimulation that is waking life, with sleep and dreams thrown in for yuks.

A person is an animal, yo. Animal also being just a word for something we don’t fully understand just yet.

I turned around and his head was caught in the revolving door.

She said they pulled the boy out of the pool and he was blue. They resuscitated him and he’s just fine now. I don’t know what it involved, the resuscitation. I don’t know how blue.

He said he checks his facebook stream when he is done with his emails and his texts, and that he scrolls through it and taps here and there when he feels so moved.

I said my life is too mundane as it is.

He said I have to go I am boarding a helicopter.

Later he texted “Safe landing in helicopter.”

I texted “Good for you.”

I used to think that in a previous life I was a machine gunner in an armed conflict, perhaps in Vietnam. Or even a helicopter pilot and that I was shot by the enemy. I dreamed it all the way through, more than once. I could actually feel the bullets. My flesh felt hot and smoky where they entered.

So I died over there but was reborn in the States a few days later. Once again a citizen of the USA. Saved the plane fare. Lucking out.

What I am trying to say is, it’s all such a waste.

Waste being just a word.

 

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