In Concordance With St. Irenaeus / AKA: Lines Composed Sunday Evening
Location
Wilhelm Wundt would rather me be
anywhere between 20 and 50 people dependent upon
the complexity of my harrowed mass or the strength of
caprice
(and the inexorable truth of mass is that it’s yet
to account for gravity’s constant)
I’m something of a Euler’s Number: to cram
this coterie in a box only large enough for a domesticated
something-or-other and induce--deduce?--with reasonable cert
ainty that anywhere between 7 and 44 of me can be expected to emerge
alive
(to account for statistical error, offer a buffer of something like
3% to 10% relative to how confident your estimate is; I’m not prepared
to join the leagues of Thomas Andrews Jr., so these numbers represent
a resolute and categorical nothing)
Machiavelli did not--could not--explicate my means of success, for
it’s not in the name of the courtship, monarchy, or masculinity--
Christ, I can’t give it a name--it’s something of a lacuna, a permutation of modus; not
even--an implausibility of evolution: I’ve manufactured a functional but insular Marxist
paradise
(I’ve always firmly believed that 95 Theses could not truly substantiate
one’s righteous fury--I choose, moreover, to believe that x = 95 provides the
vertical asymptote of denunciations, so, therefore, the number could, at any point,
find it’s true value between 95--as minimum--and positive infinity--as maximum--being
more appropriately ≥95 Theses)
If Narcissus was right about anything, it’s that one’s mind can will itself into
geocentricism--I’ve achieved some balance--Galileo’s opus magnus between his
fingers
(Gladwell theorizes that 10,000 hours are requisite in mastering 365.25
anything, and last time I checked x 18
157,788 hours of voice and conviction would be something ---------
of overkill, like a fistula from one’s Broca’s Area to their 6574.5
absolute essence--life in Ekphrasticisms x 24
as if savant toward mutability, immutability, and the ---------
rationalisms--empiricisms?--between) 157788