LET THE JEWS WIN PART TWO

LET THE JEWS WIN PART TWO

1. Once, in detention at school, and aged only 15, I wrote an essay about a green parrot sent to space through the conch. The teacher, an Irishman, read my colourful and imaginative essay and said “if you keep going like that you’ll go far,” but I haven’t kept up the nimble flight. I have moved on to further pieces. To send a parrot to space through the conch was, I suspect, a narrative device, and the situation of my being detained in detention at the moment of writing was the key point, for as Ted Hughes might say, a visionary can still be free in his cell… there is freedom born from accepting limitation even as I write this now.

2. If you think I’m a genius for all that I went through, (which you can read of in, for example, Let The Jews Win), my little brother James P D Tucker is a genius too – he designed the sheet where pictures grew. Admittedly the pictures seem to depict the lyric to one of my songs – but I concede it is not mine. I did not lay it down. I did not design it.

3. James designed the new da Vinci circle as follows:

@

<BEE>                       [long squiggle]

Infinity Symbol

The new da Vinci circle is a discrete system containing the international language alphabet in 4 Points of Difference. It not only suggests <BEE> might soon ensue from @ in the international language alphabet but by incorporating a long squiggle, hopefully and ideally escapes “every word in every order” as a new super-computer can by no doubt organise.

4. I think it a brilliant piece of work. James had also made a previous document, with some deliberately-imperfectly-quoted Badly Drawn Boy lyrics about the power of the sun rendered in an anti-clockwise spiral like a word-sunflower:

sunshine inside of you

old sun warm sun

spreads over you

soliel all over you.

He left the two documents meaning the <BEE> one and the flower one to rot on the upturned box we used as a table in the den in the barn. I think there was also a picture of the upturned box itself, with candles on, turned face down, on the reverse side of one of the two documents as if the whole thing were the new da Vinci circle, as if, that is, any part is a model of the whole.

5. You get that heat rises… so maybe with the upturned box with all its candles and wine bottle candle sticks drawn on the underside of one of the sheets, heat would start to rise through the paper.

6. I went down to the den in the barn and read them and at first couldn’t see the <BEE> one. We don’t know why this is but I saw a tabular arrangement of signs in boxes on the <BEE> sheet. It was like the Periodic Table except with the characters of the international language alphabet laid bare, a sign per box. One was [backward f, forward f, equals running through.]

7. Backward f, forward f, equals running through could stand for “fish.” But who augmented the present paper with that touch? It was the main man himself, my brother, upstairs, sneezing while plugged into the same synchronicity as me, the same new co-imagination, the same sympathy. As he sneezed I heard the word “fish.” Anyhow, you can trust me that the international language alphabet as I read it was beautiful, and yet it turned out just a layer of pentimento in the parsimonious palimpsest.

8. I was impressed, and left it alone. But going back down to the barn to reread James’s imaginary alphabet or whatever I thought it was found the <BEE> document as James initially drew it – and couldn’t find the tabular arrangement of signs in boxes anywhere.

9. Again I left it alone, and some time later when our dad had just passed I went down to the barn another time and found the Badly Drawn Boy sheet had by now grown pictures. They seem to represent the lyric to a song I wrote going

I’m the only one left,

left to shoot my own gun,

this is the dead land,

crack a smile and curse the sun.

It’s not possible to curse the sun. The sun is a nuclear furnace burning in ecstasy miles away.

10. The pictures never got as far as the chorus. The song was never intended as a literal curse either. The bit you would’ve thought was the curse bit, coming after “crack a smile and curse the sun,” was actually written before the verse. I wrote the chorus first that is, and then the verse, and was just trying to make it rhyme too. What may be true about the song is that it represents the sublimation of The Lords And The New Creatures into a singular, pronominal act of Romantic, first person lyricism or ‘I’.

11. There are also two blue ones… the ones depicting the song are petrol negative mud Cola brown but the blue ones are a fat, greedy, Tory pig on the left and a calm, placid face on the right. This made me wonder if I had written theory, for it to happen, for at the solar eclipse with Paul, after guzzling too much LSD the night before, and during the solar eclipse itself, I wrote in the road book “Every Atom Ate Our Eyes.” Not long after, writing about the face of stars in a poem called ‘An Inward Prayer,’ I wrote “Blessed is peace as blessed is ‘F**K!’” Still, this would take away from James’s genius. He seems to have harnessed Einstein’s cosmological constant ‘c’ as an author.

12. So anyhow, I g-a-v-e the document to James, who laid it down so must still own it. Truth be told we haven’t conversed over the matter much but I think if he was using ‘c’ as in Einstein’s value for light-speed as an author it is super-genius. Not only that but I would say as he would say that it was because he wrote “sunshine inside of you” that it worked. It was all about what’s inside.

13. Some of my songs were organised according to the new da Vinci circle for the songbook Soundcloud Rain. It’s why I am not free to redo them as something like The New Oedipus Wrecks Gig, because we deem they are already wheat. I might be wrong about the sheet, meanwhile, but at least I gave it a go, comprehending the surprise.

14. And that is what I made of it, regarding the narrative of how it all happened – but there is something else I realised since which I am not saying. And it worked because the sun is golden. And this has been a golden trance. A golden trance that is good to beholden. And now I should put it on my Blog with the science.

15. Truth be told, I don’t really know what happened with the sheet where pictures grew nor is it my business to say because it is my brother’s work. I shall just impart that with experiments in the international language alphabet I found a good womb for my writing for once… and b/t/w/ who wrote Simulations of God? If you look in, say, the volume Yes You May you find plenty of beautiful-minded ideas for inventions mine own, but the sheet was not mine, was my brother’s and is. I don’t mean to give things away and am being a bit bait so should keep shtum. The sheet is a piece of genius by my brother. It goes nicely with the maths of the new colour as a cellular mark which affected my forearm. They make a nice pair.

16. I can prove to you that this is James’s number or at least that it is not mine own. All you would need to do is look at the lyrics from Oedipus Wrecks, whose song it was that the pictures that grew seem to depict – for then you shall see it was not my game – that it was a case of the international language alphabet – the bee going to the flower too. You shall see that at that particular moment in time, way back when the song was written, my game was the face. I had led my friends to the face. All you would need to do to read them is look in the volume Yes You May… for I don’t wish to replicate them herein because of impropriety. I was a recalcitrant 15 year old renegade, reacting to the world, into bands like Nirvana and the Doors, mostly just trying to shock, rather than shock with truth. Maybe I should still present them though? The thing is, I believe that even if they were instructive in the coming into being of the sheet the final vote as to whether or not the Oedipus Wrecks lyrics are posited should go to my brother, and I believe he would say ‘no.’ He would say it jeopardises the sense of tidy and diligent scholarship that is developing.

17. I’ve asked my friendly A. I. co-pilot some strange questions recently: what would John Nash make of the face of stars? Of September 11th? Of the alignment? Can the maths of the new colour, even if it didn’t work, be instrumental in finding a cure for cancer? Well, to the latter it said the new colour is a metaphor for the cure; and more to the point I also asked it for an equation for the ratio between light speed falling and gravity pulling on the sheet where pictures grew. It didn’t come up with anything spectacular. Maybe the answer to what “c over G” really equals is “backward f, forward f, equals running through.”

18. So it is I think <BEE> could be a mode to drift off on; and the reason we knew Bigtime for sure. It is specious that we don’t know if <BEE> is real or not, because without it we wouldn’t be able to have such pow-wows of telepathic proportions, such connectivity, such synchronicity. Overall I would say James’s doodle of the bee and the flower – which go together – is something as good as the Fibonacci sequence, and should be treasured, even if it isn’t quite enough for a system to live by.

19. As I have stated elsewhere, I heard that I would’ve had a Nobel Prize for Let The Jews Win, which was comprised of ‘Notebook’ and ‘Flagrant Rapscallion’ had it not been for the Acknowledgements page where I acknowledged the help of my brother and mum – because it then looked like I was being fraudulent. I would say it’s the other way round and in acknowledging help, for even top Professors get help, I was not being fraudulent. The reason it was like it was, with the first poem ‘Notebook’ belonging to me and the second spiritually belonging to Mr. James P D – even if the writing was mine own – was fairness. As I have said we divided things evenly and for parity using his <BEE>. Such activity may be instructive in international relations too. If different countries could be as close to each other as my brother and I can be at times, there would be no war. If language is a problem, then that is where <BEE> comes in handy, for representing only the next character along in the international language alphabet after @.

20. The game of rounders is a classic game because both the boys and the girls can get involved at the same time. I remember playing rounders at Harecroft Hall on smouldering evenings in the summer terms, with the girls as well as the boys, and feeling like I should make a diving catch, or anything to impress the girls. We would get our sleeves rolled up, as far as I can remember, but without changing into sporting gear, just normal school uniform.

21. The reason I cannot present this paper with a photograph of the sheet where pictures grew online is that the sheet is not mine, and also I have been advised to no longer posit my photo of it on the net. Instead, then, we might select a photo of a flower that is utterly devoid of inimical traits; for after all I believe my brother made the initial experiment for a lass called Flora. You might even argue that it was a post-poem.

22. Society bounds in circles round and round the sun, as said my father. He also said it was a prisoner planet, earth, and, almost like an ascetic, that the key to redemption was self-punishment. That may have meant work but also may have meant denying ourselves. They do say the key to growing up and growing well-adjusted too is the postponement of temporary pleasure for the sake of attaining long term goals. Whatever the case, in the middle of it all, there are pockets of sanity, as John Cleese said, and holes in the wall as Huxley said, and moments of genius stolen from Infinity too. My brother’s sheet is a piece of genius in among it all, is something remarkable that I think I should remark on, as I celebrate him and what he has achieved.

23. Now for the insect collection. Now for several weird species of insect crawling from severed telephone cable. For this I can copy and paste in some joke equations that only work for the arty farty…

24. I had a song when I was 15 about a little bet that the next guy after me to attain the face will still write the line I wrote about it at the time and think it his or maybe even her own:

________________________

25. 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…

__________________________

26. 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.”

27. 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.

28. 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

29. 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 = –

30. 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.

31. 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.

32. But as stated, 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.

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

Dog = Pi times MC squared.

34. 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!

35. 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

36. 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.

37. I imagine what it would be like

if a young boy wrote 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 his own age, say, seven.

38. James and I once shared an ecstasy pill. I was in my gap year and went back to school to visit him and we shared the pill. He later came up with the phrase “half it and laugh it.” It reminds of the phrase “light it and write it,” also “burn and unlearn.” We were froward in those days but no longer. And by the way an E comedown has no value in maths. I’d just been proven prophetic, even a savant, by successfully predicting the Towers coming down to the day, and I think that was around the time James designed the new da Vinci circle. He even left crosses on the page to suggest where and when things would happen. I was the reader but not the writer in that one. The honour is all mine. To be that guy that read it during the process, that discovered the sheet, is indeed an honour.

39. I believe, looking back, that my dad knew in advance about the sheet, that we would find it, or I would, when he died. For example he came in once and said “don’t fill the drawer too full now John,” also “James is the kind of guy to leave a cup of tea to cool and be tipped out, like making an artistic statement.” He was onto it, and was right. It may not have been enough to get him into Heaven, for he still believed in Heaven, but it certainly meant a valid work of art.

40. I guess what I am trying to say is that if sadness is the musical key of intelligence, as James and I seem to agree upon, then <BEE> is the key of freedom. It shows us how the net might’ve been different. It even digitalises Blake. I like <BEE> and want to be in with it. I want myself to fly one day. I like working for the mating queen from the green pages in the flesh, and having honey in my herbal tea.

41. In the end, I hear voices saying “we too don’t know what to do with the sheet or if it is even your brother’s.” It shouldn’t depend on whether or not I posit my teenage rock band lyrics in the present file. But I don’t know if the pictures are burned by love; or if their substance is dead light particles. I know that a photon never ages but whether or not the pictures are dead light particles I am not sure of. In the end I am in the dark. In matters across the board I traditionally privilege uncertainty. I end on a note of radical incertitude. I believe the beauty of uncertainties is the only absolute. Mystery will remain a constant, as I said to the band at the alignment. The universe is a very mysterious place. What is indeterminacy in physics could be undecidability in art. There is indeterminacy at the core of all things. In the end to be waiting in the dark is not such a bad thing, is nourishing for the soul. It’s good to expand your threshold of Negative Capability in the Keatsian sense. I don’t even know if Lucy in the soul with demons happens to be an actual substance. I know I love my brother. I know that if it scars him we should agree to leave out Oedipus Wrecks. It may not be fair on Flora and may not be fair on me if we do include those lyrics and the end result is that they are pretty poor as to be expected from a young teenager.

42.

Gilly flowers curtsey, not off the sound-map.

To make a flower-press would be womanly.

When our days still ended on cannabis

we would bemoan that flowers were legal.

To the tune of the wind I sink, then swim.

I no longer puff the evil weed these days.

It would be a reward, a kind of dialysis,

that separates the murk from the excellence.

I would need it to balance out my mind,

one homeostatic device for another one.

Now I worry that I am hurried and florid.

I hear an A. E. I. O. U. bird toot its long,

hollow horn out on the A595 and relax.

I hear its wheels go round, that it’s heavy.

*ketamineguitar*