The Anatomy of a Number - 27
The New Year seems to have brought a little something sort of unexpected...the re-arrangement of EVERYTHING in the grocery stores. Why is it that olive section has been replaced by fibrous shit-well-more power bars and the pomegranates have moved to where the popcorn used to be!? I think that Donny Wegman is out to get us all with this new development...maybe he was PMSing and decided "FUCK THEM ALL! I'll show them!" and ordered all the cafe's to replace the rotisserie chickens with gallons of Breyer's ice cream...roasting on the stake. Although this 2005-2006 switchover has charged me with creating some new mental grocery store map, it has also ushered in a wave of new products...specifically mints. Holy Christ...I didn't know it was necessary to freshen your breath this much. There are now, officially, enough mints in each check out aisle to shove one up each cow's ass in the entire state of Texas and have all the Tic-Tac's to spare. It's actually quite intriguing.
Today, I discovered a lot about myself from creating some [after I started, and OCD-motivated] list of all of my favorite things/brands/preferences/stores/brands. It has grown to a list of 200+ things in that many categories since I started it about an hour ago...it's quite a doughball to digest. The most recent Friday the 13th wasn't very positively culminating for me, considering that LAST Friday the 13th I found [rediscovered] a twenty dollar bill...this 13th, I forgot my fuking iPod headphones in the morning. Real smooth, Zak, real smooth...
I'm glad that at least one of my [interesting] friends has finally decided to start blogging. It allows me to peak into her life a little more than usual and really see things from a whole new perspective, but still be able to relate. However, es kotzt mich an that the rest of my friends (who are even remotely interesting) don't blog...usually only the ones who bitch about their boyfriends and girlfriends and talk about how they didn't like the way Amber said that to her and how the left shoe doesn't belong with the other left shoes and how baked corn makes them think of their grandmother's diaper. <=I don't like that stupid run-on shit (pun intended in at least one way). I prefer that which is somewhat more or less profound, like this sentence.
You know, in this age, I thought that [since we're now able to watch live news from our cell phones in the middle of the Mohave] we'd be able to identify any song we heard anywhere. But, no, I think this has never been on the progressives' lists...and that bothers me. I believe this is also why the music industry (at least, as we have known it in the past) is failing. Most of the what I download is done so illegally...but not by choice. Most often, it is music from Russia/Greece/Holland/Shit Hole Place, which iTunes doesn't supply. You think that someone would catelog the tunes somehow...I once heard of an online service where you whistle into your computer microphone and the website will give you a match. What about everything having an embedded tag, no matter how it's renamed on the outside for personal purposes? The the question comes up about DJ mixes of 20+ songs...well, it'd have to be embedded throughout, which wouldn't be too hard considering we've sent hunks of metal into outer-fucking-space to take samples and send back analyzed photographs traveling lightyears to some little dot we call a 'satellite', which we can then interpret the elements of the substance. Put this way, is a catelog of music really all that complex? No...I think not.
My full name consists of 9 syllables and 27 (remember these numbers). I was born on September 27th (9-27...weird, huh?). Well, my original favorite number (from childhood, just always liked it) was 3. Three squared = 9. Three cubed = 27. THEN, just on WEDNESDAY, I discovered that three, to the third, to the third [3^3^3] equals 19683. Now...I originally looked at this number and thought "well...looks like that's the end of my freaky pre-ordained natural number-life selection connection", but then I just got curious and, for the hell of it, added up each of the digits together and about passed out...1+9+6+8+3 = 27!!! I tried this method with other numbers (2 and 4) and neither of them work the same. I've become convinced that I am connected to the fabric of the universe by some kind of hellish thread of freaky-ness that likes to dangle me over the flames of fascination and intrigue. Even I wasn't expecting that calculation to culminate into something more than a retarded number with absolutly no [personal] meaning. Also, 2+7 (from 27) equals 9. It's not even linear, rather cyclical (the number 27). I love it and hate it at the same time...like a bad relationship ending in a fight over silverware.
Today, I discovered a lot about myself from creating some [after I started, and OCD-motivated] list of all of my favorite things/brands/preferences/stores/brands. It has grown to a list of 200+ things in that many categories since I started it about an hour ago...it's quite a doughball to digest. The most recent Friday the 13th wasn't very positively culminating for me, considering that LAST Friday the 13th I found [rediscovered] a twenty dollar bill...this 13th, I forgot my fuking iPod headphones in the morning. Real smooth, Zak, real smooth...
I'm glad that at least one of my [interesting] friends has finally decided to start blogging. It allows me to peak into her life a little more than usual and really see things from a whole new perspective, but still be able to relate. However, es kotzt mich an that the rest of my friends (who are even remotely interesting) don't blog...usually only the ones who bitch about their boyfriends and girlfriends and talk about how they didn't like the way Amber said that to her and how the left shoe doesn't belong with the other left shoes and how baked corn makes them think of their grandmother's diaper. <=I don't like that stupid run-on shit (pun intended in at least one way). I prefer that which is somewhat more or less profound, like this sentence.
You know, in this age, I thought that [since we're now able to watch live news from our cell phones in the middle of the Mohave] we'd be able to identify any song we heard anywhere. But, no, I think this has never been on the progressives' lists...and that bothers me. I believe this is also why the music industry (at least, as we have known it in the past) is failing. Most of the what I download is done so illegally...but not by choice. Most often, it is music from Russia/Greece/Holland/Shit Hole Place, which iTunes doesn't supply. You think that someone would catelog the tunes somehow...I once heard of an online service where you whistle into your computer microphone and the website will give you a match. What about everything having an embedded tag, no matter how it's renamed on the outside for personal purposes? The the question comes up about DJ mixes of 20+ songs...well, it'd have to be embedded throughout, which wouldn't be too hard considering we've sent hunks of metal into outer-fucking-space to take samples and send back analyzed photographs traveling lightyears to some little dot we call a 'satellite', which we can then interpret the elements of the substance. Put this way, is a catelog of music really all that complex? No...I think not.
My full name consists of 9 syllables and 27 (remember these numbers). I was born on September 27th (9-27...weird, huh?). Well, my original favorite number (from childhood, just always liked it) was 3. Three squared = 9. Three cubed = 27. THEN, just on WEDNESDAY, I discovered that three, to the third, to the third [3^3^3] equals 19683. Now...I originally looked at this number and thought "well...looks like that's the end of my freaky pre-ordained natural number-life selection connection", but then I just got curious and, for the hell of it, added up each of the digits together and about passed out...1+9+6+8+3 = 27!!! I tried this method with other numbers (2 and 4) and neither of them work the same. I've become convinced that I am connected to the fabric of the universe by some kind of hellish thread of freaky-ness that likes to dangle me over the flames of fascination and intrigue. Even I wasn't expecting that calculation to culminate into something more than a retarded number with absolutly no [personal] meaning. Also, 2+7 (from 27) equals 9. It's not even linear, rather cyclical (the number 27). I love it and hate it at the same time...like a bad relationship ending in a fight over silverware.
posted by Zaevodnik at
09:27
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