Today's bow tie is my newest. Behold:
The review in front of me, which I'll be publishing momentarily, is of a paper about the card game SET (which I now know was created by Marsha Jean Falco in 1974 [while working as a former Michigan State University population geneticist living in Cambridge, England, studying German Shepherd epilepsy genetic patterns] and first published in 1990), which has on each card a figure or figures with one of three shapes, patterns, colors, and numbers of item:
I sucked at it when I played it, but my opponent was really quick with spotting the groupings.
This is the kind of paper that would push my math brain/soul gently--- I could probably follow it a while before getting lost (in notation maybe as much as concepts), and might even be able to understand the whole thing, with effort, and letting go, and side journeys, and possibly asking a mathematician a thing or three about it. It's in a journal of undergrad-type math. My head feels physically funny as I read a couple pages into it, and I can sense time starting to fade away, and I pull myself back. But sometimes I think I could pick something--- something like a game like SET--- and make it a thing I was just gonna go further into real mathematical thinking about, however like the proverbial rabbit hole it might be. What is it with the fear of getting lost that way? Okay at work yeah I can't really afford to zoom away from my actual job like that, open-ended and unmoored.
Maybe it's a little like when people are afraid to cry, or to feel the depths of grief or abandonment, the way you can just tell that what's there is SO BIG you might get taken over by it, and it might never stop. But you can only fiddle with, like, the Towers of Hanoi of life for so long. Y'know?
It's very strange, feeling the insides of one's skull swirl. I can't be feeling my actual brain, right?, so it must be things attached to it.
Philosophy can do that sort of thing to you too, I reckon. But it loops back on itself so much. You can't really go wormholing into the let-loose of it the same. Or I don't feel like I could.
I don't really know what I'm talking about here. Or why. I wonder if someone snuck decaf into Albert-Louis (the office coffee machine).