Koreatown Bok Choy, Pt. 3
Blue Velvet Review, Too Gyroz
(3) Abstract (n/a)
In American folklore it’s often posited that “second place” is actually “the first loser.” While scholars of various stripes have conflicting opinions on the accuracy of such claims, the reality is, at least according to the general populace of the world’s greatest country, the saying is functionally viewed as true. The second cousin, strictly defined, is the child of the first cousin in relation to the child of another first cousin, first cousins of course being the respective children of siblings. The number 2 is, in theory, the beginning of all multiplicity, the primal source of a multitude. Without the number 2 there would be no linear single-digit path to 3 and 4 or even 5. In fact all evenness itself is defined, in theory, by an ability to be divided by this number 2. Even binary code, while only consisting of 0s and 1s is still comprised of 2 numbers (0 and 1). And all duality is derivative of the number 2. The number is at times associated with Ceres or Demeter, a goddess of agriculture and fertility, an alleged sister of Zeus. In certain forms of Neo-Pythagoreanism and/or Neo-Platonism, a certain indefinite dyad is an originator of the entire universe, emanating from an ineffable One, whereas certain cosmologies, such as Gnosticism and Manichaeism, are notable for their dualist structures, placing a duality as a first principle, which are in sharp contrast to the more monist constructions found in Akbarism and other orders.
3.1 (.764)
Enzo told Daria how he was considering that it was perhaps with a tyrannical exactness that he proceeded about his life, right up through his weekly high fades, that he considered a latent geometrical tyranny to be possibly ruthlessly guiding his life as he took quick note of a quite sizeable posterior in light blue jeans that was walking right past him as he approached the large brick building that contained the Department for Economic Development on a quaint Friday afternoon at four pm on the dot.
Daria was aware Enzo walked there to try and slip the clerk a quick so-called business registration form but before she could confirm what she already knew for a fact Enzo went on to note that it turned out the city clerks’ offices closed half an hour early for their so-called summer hours, which as it so happened was exactly at four pm.
Enzo muttered what the fuck before continuing on to note he was wearing his new tan Walmart mesh basketball shorts with his white vans as the voluptuous woman walked past, by contrast, wearing wire rimmed glasses on the tip of her thin nose, surrounded on three sides by curly black locks.
According to him sometimes it was just preferable to sit on a roof with your shirt off and think about fucking nothing for a little bit even if it was five fifteen on a Friday afternoon, there was, after all, repetition and number, he noted to Daria, but did all numbers actually repeat?
Daria noted she’d been noticing an insane amount of five fifty fives and two twenty twos plus eleven elevens and even one elevens of late but to date she’d refrained from any attempt to google an explanation.
But wasn’t it the case, Enzo interjected, since they’d gotten onto the topic of sequences of integers anyway, wasn’t it the case that the second cousin as a conceptual artifice was collectively accelerating the downfall of their country, I mean, Enzo said, second cousins are in aggregate all basically cunts, right?
In Enzo’s mind it was the clearly the case that the second cousin was basically objectionable, a pitiful clinging to a so-called bloodline that was, even when more potent, still somewhat ambiguous if not nonsensical.
What was blood anyway?
Daria, for her part, didn’t have a particularly strong opinion on the concept of the second cousin one way or the other, but she admitted that she didn’t have as big of a family as Enzo, which perhaps played a part in her quizzical nonchalance?
No, Enzo went on, the second cousin was something indicative of a structural rot, in fact it was something that probably needed actual legislation to be properly combatted, because these second cousins, they wouldn’t just rescind of their own accord.
No, Enzo and Daria both, they needed to start petitioning local representatives to abolish this concept of the second cousin.
3.12 (.756)
It was abundantly clear to Enzo that there was a recurring splitting into two that was perhaps the most nefarious act of all, that the first of this or that inevitably'd become extended to the so-called second of the same substrate, but why?
It was this counting, this lurid linear extension that perhaps offended Enzo the most, to which Daria, thinking about her bok choy with an unerring sense of dread, was only partially paying attention to.
They’d fundamentally forgotten something essential about number, Enzo said, they’d become addicted to dividing and adding, extending and subtracting, instead of focusing on concepts more steeped in purity.
Enzo felt as though they were destined to recall something essential about number, but now, somehow, that'd become impossible for them, that they’d forgotten for perpetuity an essential aspect of number, which made every situation they encountered immeasurably more bleak.
The second cousin itself was little beyond a symptom of a far greater sickness, the common cold of counting numbers, of becoming unitary until they reached infinity.
Nothing was more infinite than the unitary, yet the unitary becoming infinite was utterly absurd!
Everything was split into two, or split into three, all around them were doppelgangers and trinities of what was what.
Multiplicity couldn’t exist this way!
Enzo continued as Daria simultaneously considered bringing up a few concerns she had with an employee she’d contracted specifically in a botanical manner, but who, given his unorthodox methods, had started to concern her given some of his more licentious habits.
Of course botany and personal matters were probably, in most cases, considered completely separate issues, but due to the specific nature of this particular job it had begun to bother Daria just slightly.
Enzo, for his part, had an entire pack of cigarettes in his drawer, he said to Daria, because he’d bought a whole pack the other day, just purely out of spite.
Did she want to go out onto the deck and whack a puff or two from one?
Was she drunk enough yet?—to smoke a quick cig?
Because she clearly wasn’t listening to any of the fucking shit he was saying about integers or second cousins, about the nonsensical division of everything all around them!
No Daria was, she was listening (kind of …), it was just that she was just a tad preoccupied, even before coming by she’d been walking through a small courtyard in the city, taking note of the big trees growing next to the large brick condo buildings, contemplating connecting with nature, but also with inanimate objects as well?
It was one thing to connect with nature and trees and plants, that was almost cliche, but what about connecting with inanimate objects made of plastic by wage slaves in East Asia?
She’d recently attended divine liturgy for the first time in ages, she told Enzo, and while occasionally staring up at the series of icons people would have indiscriminately killed people for worshipping just a few short centuries ago, she could have sworn a set of voices were speaking to her, solely within her mind, comforting her but also informing her that there'd be an upcoming time that they’d snap their fingers and she’d finally return to them, as if that was where she actually belonged, in this plane she could hardly comprehend, yet communicated directly to her with no problem.
She exited her body just momentarily, filled with pure relief, then the beings reiterated a time would arrive when they would snap their fingers, then she’d return, finally, to them.
Perhaps she’d have discounted the encounter if she hadn’t, with complete caprice, she told Enzo, decided to go up to take communion with her dad, and as her turn finally arrived to imbibe the blood of Christ Himself, she noticed sitting calmly to the left of the priest was a Wind Tunnel brand floor fan.
The exact same floor fan she’d, after taking entirely too many mushrooms one particular evening eons ago, engaged in an extended conversation with regarding the true nature of things, during which a certain clarity descended upon her, finally understanding, with the utmost purity, her true origin and, in turn, the primal source of all things.