Bowerbird #24: Constant Velocity Invisible Control
Road accidents are a prime source of organs because they’re one of the few times that young, healthy people die leaving most of the body intact. We want to see into each other’s hearts. Words are not always optimal, and there’s often something left out. There has never been a shortage of new inventions, what ‘shapes us’ is what we choose to pick up on. But the challenge is to extend these approaches to increasingly complex cases. We enjoy sprawling, complex pieces of art. Poetry is that which cannot be contained by the page or for that matter some ridiculous glass and steel mausoleum. Poetry is pretty much whatever you want to call a poem. Perhaps this will seem somewhat less far-fetched when one considers that, only two centuries ago, wigs designated social hierarchy, and comprised specific, unmistakable markers of caste, occupation, and position. Creative people make piles of things. The fabled “winter blues” are more due to fewer positive feelings than more negative ones. There is virtually no evidence that artworks activate emotion areas distinct from those involved in appraising everyday objects important for survival. We would not be here, of course, if our ancestors had not kept swimming. The real problem is therefore not mistakes. The problem is how to remain a scientist once we grow up. Science is a process not of affirming ideas but of attempting to falsify ideas in the search for truth. Keep washing your hands, for sure, but a whole-body sterilization would do more harm than good.