I believed the theorists who said that the era of correspondences is
past, it being no longer possible to consider commensurable the tracks of
the stars and the turning of my fate. Someone asks about a design
problem, and I wonder first about *problem* as such, the one I have for
example (we could as well speak of the question mark, whose origin it is
said is the crook that may be observed in the cat's tail when raised in
salute).
Reading a book on the origin of the universe I happen across a
description of a black hole:
**You, too, would become a black hole if a pair of gigantic hands could
squeeze you to less than ten to the twentythird power of an inch, a speck
a million billion times smaller than an atom.**
This account I recognize at once as an exact document of this feeling
that accompanies the problem; a found metaphor of how things are. What
has not been compared to black hole? Still, this one that is mine insists
that the border between the outside and the inside is moving again.
I am triangulating now by means of this spacetime, taking the measure
of my problem (life, in a word). **Creating a black hole requires the
gravity of a star that is more than five times as massive as our sun.** I
am looking now for that star whose gravity has the power of gigantic
hands.
Greg Ulmer * * * * * * *
http://www.ucet.ufl.edu/~gulmer/