Navier-Stokes Me, Stokes Me

The glass surface of a placid lake is a wonder to behold. Perfection lay thereupon.

Perfection is boring, static, immutable. Dead.

Destructive interference isn't the only kind. Moiré patterns also contain additive, constructive interference. So does life. Change brings more opportunity for change. Life is about having evolved the ability to evolve and adapt.

Adaptation changes both the individual and the environment.

I am a creature of strong habit. It's not structure I need so much as dependable places on which to light whenever needed. That's structure to some, but the selfsame notice the erraticism of the orbit instead of the strange attractor at its core.

Chaos governs itself and we are, each and all, generators of chaos.

Do the non-linear math.

All syllogisms fail to capture any complete truth
This is a syllogism
Therefore, this is not a truth-statement.

Taken on the merits of its structure alone, that would've baked your noodle. Taken as a seed crystal for a mode of thought, it locates your thoughts dependably. It's there because it's not exactly there. Horseshoes, grenades and this: close enough is good enough.

He asks, in discomfiting eloquence, if we think we're in control. I'm not so sure there's any control to be had: the soul has no third-person singular, a thing that we never remember until we reach out to another and curse the loneliness of an arm's length.

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