A NOTE ON MY FIRST NUMBER REVISITED

A NOTE ON MY FIRST NUMBER REVISITED

The train of my thought is the 19. 08, in one ear and out the other. We get on board, us passengers and find our seats. The train gets going, slowly. I am by the window, and see the scenery flowing past. I am reading a good book. It’s something I did with my dad as a seven year old.

The train gets chugging along, wreckety, wreckety wreck.

The encrypted node in the boyhood work, meanwhile, was that if the Gravity between earth and moon is instant and therefore enough to break Light-speed a clock is still only as fast as a cheetah.

I see now that it was possibly adults about me who, for the sake of long storage, when the idea of the net needed storing in writing in the attic, got me to begin encrypting that node with a text called

2

JOHN TUCKER

ENGLISH

E

and to continue with a second text called

ENGLISH

JOHN TUCKER

HARECROFT

1

“but then again who knows.”

The split was not even but asymmetrical like one was on and one was off. It was like spotting the flaw in Einstein. It was like saying if you write Einstein backwards it implies the breaking of light speed. It was even like saying even if we invent a time machine that can equal light speed we can only go back in time because the future hasn’t happened yet.

Then the train slows down, its metal parts expanding and contracting, its wreckety wreckety wreck diminishing. We arrive at a station on the voyage!

At some point, after the Einsteinian bit, a + sign was put in for the F of ‘scarf’ in the line

“I have a scar+ that is red and black.”

Then there was a discussion of the struggle between ‘Good and Evil’ in a piece where

“I woke up at 1 o. clock.”

In other words the first person pronoun and the time 1 o’clock were being contrasted.

At the station on the voyage some people get on some disembark. The train gets chugging along again and the conductor comes down the aisle to spot new people whom he can ask to show their tickets.

It is not clear if the splitting of the two books happened next, for the number 2 in the sequence, but I think so. In terms of the number three, there was also my maths book where in among the numbers you find a three line poem going

Colour circles red. How many circles?

Colour triangles blue. How many squares?

Colour oblongs orange. How many triangles?

To read it all you’d only need to go and get a copy of what by now I know helped invent the net but which at the time of publication I did not know helped invent the net. It’s called The Sunset Child. People have said the best one in it is called ‘My Dad.’

Counting continued, 4, 5, 6, 7.

4 was my age when I crashed my bike in Sweden. That’s where mum and I used to live when I was a baby. We had a little apartment; and I used to sleep outside in my pram even when it was winter!

5 was my second brother Dr. Robert’s age when I wrote – a poem about my 5 year old brother.

6 was a story, where I drank some lemonade and shrank until I was 6 inches tall.

7 was a time on my digital watch inside the story in question.

I think 7 was as far as it went. That was my age at the time I began the writing. There were in-between bits, that augmented and enhanced what was going on in terms of numbers.

Now we approach our final destination. Please leave the train. All passengers must disembark here at this station stop.

The whole of my early mathematics was based on the above situation, by which I mean school work. At some point you might make a mistake! Some of the bits and pieces look remarkably beautiful in the context. For example

1. Area of whole shape = 80 CM squared

Area of unshaded part = 4 CM squared

Area of shaded part = 76 CM squared

2. Area of whole shape = 72 CM squared

Area of unshaded part = 8 CM squared

Area of shaded part = 64 CM squared

At the age of 11 after having encountered both the juggernaut and a literal monster without knowing what the Hell was going on, I received the thin stripe up the underside and redefined what it means to say “I’m fine.”

It didn’t turn out to be the new colour in the end.

At the train station there are other trains waiting to depart. There are a lot of people filing out through the turnstiles out onto the street. I follow them, putting my ticket through the machine.

All this should’ve been what I wrote about in GCSE maths but I couldn’t because the book was locked in the attic for Long Storage. During the GCSE maths exam I was bleeding. In the morning, before school, I picked up my bassplayer’s bass which for some reason I had; and dad said “no, it sends the wrong message for the morning of your GCSE maths exam. You’re not taking it to school.” He confiscated it off me and locked himself in the house, and I banged on the front door saying “give me back my bass,” and my hand went through the glass. I turned up to the maths exam dripping blood. If only I had used it as ink and written the maths of the new colour as a cellular mark.

When I was 15 or 16 I proved the island of penguins with the first verse of the first song of my first gig. I won the line in a bet, a bet on Sameness. For me, it belongs in song...

________________________

I shouldn’t state my equation for dreaming about Flora whom it would seem was the mating queen from the green pages in the flesh, that I now renounce…

__________________________

Even though I am repeating myself, here as well is my equation for being the neo-Rimbaud whom it would seem deemed it love:

“Her breath a poisonous magic.”

I am not in the position to relate, say, an equation for water’s effect on water, but can repeat that H does not = 0 – 0 because I have a heart, and also that E minus MC squared = only relative zero too.

By now my equation for the alignment of the Plough and the oldest fell Black Combe is the way the qwerty keyboard ends on M:

QWERTYUIOP

ASDFGHJKL

ZXCVBNM

and my equation for hanging my coat on a primary school wall a long time ago in the capital as if to start again is:

+ x ½ = –

Here moreover, is my equation for the healing and fusing of the cassette tape with a pause in the song where cut and stuck together in the flimsy reel:

H = t times Pi.

Here is my equation for the Ratio between light speed (c) falling and Gravity (G) pulling on my brother James P D’s sheet where pictures grew:

c/ G does not equal G/ c.

But, I would, actually, in all academic seriousness, say though, that “c over G,” if it had to equal something, would equal “backward f, forward f, equals running through.” This can be accessed on the Pyramid walls, even in dreamwork.

Also of note, here is my equation for turning pain into pleasure:

Dog = Pi times MC squared.

Now I deem it we are back round to that false notion with which I started, a long time ago. So, here is my equation for the idea that if the Gravity between the earth and the moon is instant and therefore enough to break Lightspeed, a clock is still only as fast as a cheetah:

G = c times t

and if G = c times t, I have to express what t = and might be wrong in saying

t = c divided by G

and might be wrong in saying t = 0.

That is after all to employ my faulty mathematics to falsify it in numbers as well as words!

I might as well add that even as we speak I still deem the word “entropy” spelled backwards to somehow frame the first, unformulated spark of appetency in Nothingness preceding Creation. I would spell it with a dot between each letter and say

y. p. o. r. t. n. e. = 4

E = starbeams. Of all the joke equations it’s my favourite one because it might be true. A star is a sun is a nuclear furnace is a ray of light is energy beating down on a planet far away.

I imagine what it would be like

if as a young boy I’d written the line

“I have a scar+ that is green and blue,”

with a plus sign for the F,

and then counted up the numbers

from one to my own age, seven.

I imagine also if as

a young sprog I had written

“I have a scar+ that is the new colour,”

using a + sign for an ‘f’

and counting up the numbers, with

dates, ages, times of day, measurements included…

I didn’t do that.

I don’t wish to put a dampener on things but when I first asked A. I. whether my attempt at the maths of the new colour could be used to find a cure or vaccine for cancer it thought about it a bit and said the new colour becomes a metaphor for the cure. Having been surrounding by friendly voices I gather I have already said this elsewhere.