From: Peter Blegvad <peter>
Date: July 29, 2011 4:14:48 PM GMT+01:00
To: David Thomas <pereubu>

Subject: Re: Art

I attach a few documents — time-related — from the archives.

I’m hoping the 3 Elements (Road, Tunnel, Bridge) — symbolizing the Present (Observation), Past (Memory) and Future (Imagination) respectively — might “rhyme” somewise in someone’s mind with Eisenhower’s autobahn.

What about “The Fermata” by Nicholson Baker???




I don’t know if you have art under way. We need something for the cafe oto page instead of the non-existent band photo which can double as a poster image as well.

Idea, if you’re still searching:

I have a preamble I use for various things. It goes like this:
They lied about the parallax view.
They said parallel lines don’t intersect
but they do.
Now I can see how the road is running out on me.

So the idea is Jack Kerouac in Wonderland from that picture of Alice in the hall of perspective where she comes up against the door down the hallway which isnt small because of perspective but because it’s small. Except obviously the parallel lines of the parallax road have come together, This is part of the Pharoah Eisenhower thing wherein the creator of vital technologies (interstate highway) enable the poets and creatives by providing a physical path to enlightenment.

Anyway, an idea, make of it what you will or won’t.

David Thomas

E-notion from Peter


Pleasure is the headlight. Aren’t you glad you got off a long time ago?
Next station! Wait there! Let that big crowd git on board! Always parkin all
the time!

Edison on Failure

I have not failed.  I’ve found 10,000 ways that won’t work.
– Thomas Alva Edison (1847 – 1931)

This was an answer to a question from a newspaper reporter when Edison was working on the alkaline battery, btw – it took 10 years and 50,000 experiments. It cost him one million dollars of his own money for research, but he recovered his money from sales of the batteries.

Einstein on Relativity

“When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour
it seems like a minute.
But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute —
and it’s longer than any hour.
That’s relativity.”

Occam’s Razor

Occam's Razor
My folks bought a farm for their retirement. Out in Pennsylvania. Up on a ridge. Out in
the wilderness. I'd visit and walk in the fields. Up the hill in a remote area one year
I found a patch of stunted wild apple trees. Not laid out in an orderly manner like an
orchard but in a crazy, mixed up tangle. I always wondered what the story was. How they
got there. What was going on. I thought about it a long time. I finally figured it out.

The postman drove a Caddy,
a sunburnt green, rusted out old land-tug of a car.
It was seen to race across the ridge trailin' clouds of dust and dogs.

Now, I saw the fact.
The driver was a dog.
The dog had a hat.
The hat went flat which made it look like a rat.
The rat was on fire. 

Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come. 

Now, that fire attracted the eye of a neighbor,
who turning away,
shook his head as he was heard to say,
"I don't wanna know why."
Which confused his pig
that knocked over the mailbox
that spilled the letter
lost by the post office for manyyears
happenin' to have been written by Albert Einstein.
The pig ate the letter,
but at this point that didn't really matter,
as you will see.
Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come.
Now, in his declining years,
Mr. Einstein had divined a device from common household items
by harnessing hitherto unknown forces in the universe,
could put a chicken in every pot
and, by the process, make it so that everyone would live a long, long time,
	without any trouble at all,
saving mankind from certain self-destruction
and enabling him to keep on going more places forever. 

Now, understand,
that whether or not
this device would actually work
was a matter of absolute conjecture
seeing as how Mr. Einstein had buried
the only plans and working model
in a hole in the ground. 

I knew there was trouble. 

"It seemed like a good idea at the time" was,
	in fact,
what the letter did say.
But, now, would the recipient, a Mr. Tesla,
please go out and dig it up right away?
But not to worry because even if this self-same letter
was to be lost in the mail
you couldn't miss the two-foot high Martian standing there
who'd promised to wait and not even budge
	for many years
	if he had to
but then he really had to get going.

"And by the way take him a couple apples
	because he really likes fruit.
Sincerely yours,
Albert Einstein."

Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come.