Holes Zero Quotes

Black holes are where God divided by zero.

When you spend your whole life living in a hole, the only way you can go is up. (Zero/Hector Zeroni)

Zero wasnt worried, " When you spend your whole life living in a shole", he said, "the only way you can go is up.

I'm not stupid. I know everybody thinks I am. I just don't like answering their questions.

In a way, it made him sad. He couldn't help but think that a hundred times zero was still nothing.

Anger and hate dig holes. Love and kindness move mountains. Choose your motivation wisely.

I recently heard of someone studying the ellipsis (or three dots) for a PhD. And, I have to say, I was horrified. The ellipsis is the black hole of the punctuation universe, surely, into which no right-minded person would willingly be sucked, for three years, with no guarantee of a job at the end.

That’s the worst thing about having chakaare like us around. We just wander off, find someplace you don’t know about, and hole up in it and get into all sorts of mischief that you know nothing about. And then we bill you for it. Dreadful.” “Dreadful. Is this the kind of thing that CSF might notice?” “Were we to get out of hand, I imagine very senior officers in CSF might need to be reassured, but not by you.” “Dreadful. Hypothetically, anyway.

Zero took the shovel. Then he swung it like a baseball bat. The metal blade smashed across Mr. Pendanski’s face. His knees crumpled beneath him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Even the successful 1985 Bret Easton Ellis book (and 1987 film) Less Than Zero, which tracks the falling from grace of wealthy Los Angeles teens, could not be imagined with the logically equivalent title: Negative.

In summer you sit in a boat and tell lies for nine hours and get zero fish. In winter you drill a hole in the ice out there and sit on a chair and tell lies for nine hours and get zero fish.

Suppose a hole were dug from one side of Earth, through the center, and out the other side. What would happen to a man if he jumped into the hole? When he got to the middle of the Earth would he keep falling or would he stop? DEBBIE CANDLER RED BUD, ILLINOIS He would be vaporized by the 11,000° Fahrenheit temperature of the pressurized molten iron core. Ignoring this complication, he would gain speed continuously from the moment he jumped into the hole until he reached the center of Earth where the force of gravity is zero. But he will be traveling so fast that he will overshoot the center and slow down continuously until he reached zero velocity at the exact moment he emerges on the other side. Unless somebody grabs him, he will fall back down the hole and repeat his journey indefinitely. A one-way trip through Earth would take about forty-five minutes.

At the Sound of the Gunshot, Leave A Message That's what my friend spoke into his grim machine the winter he first went mad as we both did in our thirties with still no hope of revenue, gravely inking our poems on pages held fast by gyres the color of lead. Godless, our minds did monster us, left us bobbing as in a swamp until we sank. His eyes were burn holes in a swollen face. His breath was a venom he drank deep of. He called his own tongue a scar, this poet who can crowbar open the most sealed heart, make ash flower, and the cocked shotgun's double-zero mouths (whose pellets had exploded star holes into plaster and porcelain and not a few locked doors) never touched my friend's throat. Praise Him, whose earth is green. (for Franz Wright)

Like a good southern boy should, I'll start with my mom. She's a true baller, living proof that the value of denial depends on one's level of commitment to it. She beat two types of cancer on nothing more than aspirin and denial. She's a woman that says I'm going to before she can, I would before she could, and I'll be there before she's invited. Fiercely loyal to convenience and controversy, she's always had an adversarial relationship with context and consideration because they ask permission. She might not be the smartest person in the room but she ain't crying. She's 88 now, and seldom do I go to bed after her or wake up before her. Her curfew when she was growing up was when she danced holes big enough in the feet of her pantyhose that came up around her ankles. Nobody forgives himself quicker than she does and therefore, she carries zero stress. I once asked her if she ever went to bed with any regrets. She quickly told me, ‘Oh every night son, I just forget him by the time I wake up.’ She always told us, ‘Don't you walk into a place like you want to buy it, walk in like you own it.’ Obviously, her favorite word in the English language is ‘Yes.

The thing was, Zero liked breaking things. He saw no reason why the world should be allowed to stay hole.

After two months passed and they were still finding holes, the company canceled the testing and just shipped the kiosks out. O

When you spend your whole life living in a hole, the only way you can go is up.

My hair, eyes, sometimes even my soul, are black-hole dark. And here he is, Martian red and ocean blue.

Higher and higher he climbed. His strength came from somewhere deep inside himself and also seemed to come from the outside as well. After focusing on Big Thumb for so long, it was as if the rock had absorbed his energy and now acted like a kind of giant magnet pulling him toward it. After a while he became aware of a foul odor. At first he thought it came from Zero, but it seemed to be in the air, hanging heavy all around him. He also noticed that the ground wasn’t as steep anymore. As the ground flattened, a huge stone precipice rose up ahead of him, just barely visible in the

Albert Einstein once said that black holes are where God divided by zero, and that created some strange physics. While the marginal costs of digital goods do not quite approach zero, they are close enough to create some pretty strange economics.

Just solving certain theorems makes waves in the Platonic over-space. Pump lots of power through a grid tuned carefully in accordance with the right parameters—which fall naturally out of the geometry curve I mentioned, which in turn falls easily out of the Turing theorem—and you can actually amplify these waves, until they rip honking great holes in spacetime and let congruent segments of otherwise-separate universes merge. You really don’t want to be standing at ground zero when that happens.

The infinite zero of a black hole-mass crammed into zero space, curving space infinitely-punches a hole in the smooth rubber sheet. The equations of general relativity cannot deal with the sharpness of zero. In a black hole, space and time are meaningless.

How many onions do you think we’ve eaten?” he asked. Zero shrugged. “I don’t even know how long we’ve been here.” “I’d say about a week,” said Stanley. “And we probably each eat about twenty onions a day, so that’s…” “Two hundred and eighty onions,” said Zero. Stanley smiled. “I bet we really stink.

In amassing zero-day exploits for the government to use in attacks, instead of passing the information about holes to vendors to be fixed, the government has put critical-infrastructure owners and computer users in the United States at risk of attack from criminal hackers, corporate spies, and foreign intelligence agencies who no doubt will discover and use the same vulnerabilities for their own operations.

MOON VIOLENCE The peace I will not pray for Silence I won't sit in Zero surrender The manbaby splayed for my affection I say no I ride an animal along the shore Any animal I have my knife and money A throat I am a woman and no woman at all The honey drips I taste myself I eat me in an arc on the water Dig out my third eye The hole I fill with sickness this time Every time This is what I do with love

Zero dwells at the juxtaposition of quantum mechanics and relativity; zero lives where the two theories meet, and zero causes the two theories to clash. A black hole is a zero in the equations of general relativity; the energy of the vacuum is a zero in the mathematics of quantum theory. The big bang, the most puzzling event in the history of the universe, is a zero in both theories. The universe came from nothing-and both theories break down when they try to explain the origin of the cosmos.

Something dangerous is beginning: I am coming late to my own self. I made an appointment with my thoughts- the thoughts were snatched from me. I made an appointment with Faulkner- but they made me go to a banquet. I made an appointment with history, but a grass-widow dragged me into bed. Worse than barbed wire are birthday parties, mine and others', and roasted suckling pigs hold me like a sprig of parsley between their teeth! Led away for good to a life absolutely not my own, everything that I eat, eats me, everything that I drink, drinks me. I made an appointment with myself, but they invite me to feast on my own spareribs. I am garlanded from all sides not by strings of bagels, but by the holes of bagels, and I look like an anthology of zeros. Life gets broken into hundreds of lifelets, that exhaust and execute me. In order to get through to myself I had to smash my body against others', and my fragments, my smithereens, are trampled by the roaring crowd. I am trying to glue myself together, but my arms are still severed. I'd write with my left leg, but both the left and the right have run off, in different directions. I don't know- where is my body? And soul? Did it really fly off, without a murmured 'good-bye! '? How do I break through to a faraway namesake, waiting for me in the cold somewhere? I've forgotten under which clock I am waiting for myself. For those who don't know who they are, time does not exist. No one is under the clock. On the clock there is nothing. I am late for my appointment with me. There is no one. Nothing but cigarette butts. Only one flicker- A lonely, dying, spark...

When they were about a hundred meters from the death lines, Yifan waved Cheng Xin to a stop. Each death line was about twenty or thirty meters in diameter, and from here, they resembled death columns. “These are probably the darkest things in the universe,” Cheng Xin said. The death lines showed no details except an exceptional blackness showing the boundaries of the zero-lightspeed region, with no real surface. Looking up, the lines showed up clearly even against the dark backdrop of space. “These are the deadest things in the universe as well,” said Guan Yifan. “Zero-lightspeed means absolute, one hundred percent death. Inside it, every fundamental particle, every quark is dead. There is no vibration. Even without a source of gravity inside, each death line is a black hole. A zero-gravity black hole. Anything that falls in cannot reemerge.” Yifan picked up a rock and tossed it toward one of the death lines. The rock disappeared inside the absolute darkness. “Can your lightspeed ships produce death lines?” Cheng Xin asked. “Far from it.” “So you’ve seen these before, then?” “Yes, but only rarely.” Cheng

The last remaining matter in the universe will reside within black dwarves. We can predict how they will end their days. The last matter of the universe will evaporate away and be carried off into the void as radiation leaving absolutely nothing behind. There won’t be a single atom left; all that’s left will be particles of light and black holes. After an unimaginable period even the black holes will have evaporated; the universe will be nothing but a sea of photons gradually tending to the same temperature as the expansion of the universe cools them towards absolute zero. The story of the universe will come to an end. For the first time in its life the universe will be permanent and unchanging. Entropy will finally stop increasing because the cosmos cannot get any more disordered. Nothing happens and it keeps not happening for ever. There is no difference between past present and future, nothing changes, arrow of time has simply ceased to exist. It is an inescapable fact written into the laws of physics that entire cosmos will die; all the stars will go out extinguishing possibility of life in the universe.

Like a good southern boy should, I'll start with my mom. She's a true baller, living proof that the value of denial depends on one's level of commitment to it. She beat two types of cancer on nothing more than aspirin and denial. She's a woman that says I'm going to before she can, I would before she could, and I'll be there before she's invited. Fiercely loyal to convenience and controversy, she's always had an adversarial relationship with context and consideration because they ask permission. She might not be the smartest person in the room but she ain't crying. She's 88 now, and seldom do I go to bed after her or wake up before her. Her curfew when she was growing up was when she danced holes big enough in the feet of her pantyhose that came up around her ankles. Nobody forgives themselves quicker than she does and therefore, she carries zero stress. I once asked her if she ever went to bed with any regrets. She quickly told me, ‘Oh every night son, I just forget him by the time I wake up.’ She always told us, ‘Don't you walk into a place like you want to buy it, walk in like you own it.’ Obviously, her favorite word in the English language is ‘Yes.

There are human boys here somewhere?” Zoey asked. Aurox’s face scrunched up as he frowned at her. “Not here. Outside—out there. ” He pointed in the general direction of the door to the field house behind them. “Outside the field house!” she almost yelled. “Zo, sometimes I think you don’t listen so good,” Aurox said. Still frowning at her, he continued speaking slowly, as if trying to get her to understand a foreign language. “Two boys. Outside the wall. With the keg. And cups. They. Want. Hot. Vampyre. Chicks.” “Okay, I think I get it.” Stark grabbed Aurox’s arm and started to drag him toward the door and away from Z before she went for his throat, although that would have been funny as hell. “You found two kids, with beer, trying to get over the wall, right?” “See, you listen better.” Aurox patted him on the back, almost knocking Stark over. “But they’re just looking through the hole for vampyre pussy, not trying to get over the wall.” “If you say pussy one more time I’m going to smack the crap out of you,” Zoey said, coming after them. “You can’t come!” Aurox stumbled to a stop. “You have legs and tits!” “Oh. My. Goddess. I’m going to kill him!” Stark stepped between the two of them. He faced Zoey. She’d gone from pale to bright red in zero-point-nothing seconds. “Z, I think this is something that a Warrior needs to handle.” Behind him, Aurox belched, sending a wave of beer air wafting over them. Zoey narrowed her eyes and pointed at Aurox. “You have never been able to drink!” Then she spun around and stomped back to the basement entrance, slamming the door behind her. “She seems mad. Should we bring her a beer?” Aurox said. Stark covered his laugh with a cough. “Ur, no. Z doesn’t like beer.” “Doesn’t like beer? She should. It would make her head feel bubbly and happy.” Stark didn’t bother to cover his laugh a second time. “I wish it worked that way with her, but it doesn’t.” “Because she has legs and tits?” Stark knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask her next time you see her.” Aurox nodded, looking as serious as a drunk could look. “I will.” “That should be fun. But until then, show me where these humans are, and while we’re going there, start back at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened before and after you were introduced to the red Solo cup.

I sit in my chair, the wreath on the ceiling floating above my head, like a frozen halo, a zero. A hole in space where a star exploded. A ring, on water, where a stone's been thrown. All things white and circular. I wait for the day to unroll, for the earth to turn, according to the round face of the implacable clock. The geometrical days, which go around and around, smoothly and oiled. Sweat already on my upper lip, I wait, for the arrival of the inevitable egg, which will be lukewarm like the room and will have a green film on the yolk and will taste faintly of sulphur.   Today,

How did he know my dad helped get me this job? Did someone in the office tell him? I mean, it’s not like I’m some spoiled, incompetent rich kid with zero work experience and mega connections. My dad’s just aCPA! But I’m not going to bother explaining that or anything else. Because right now, I’m halfway convinced a hole in my skull has blown right off and my brains are flowing out like molten lava. I think I might well and truly hate Porter Roth. “You know nothing about me or my family. And you’re a goddamn dickbag, you know that?” I say, so enraged that I don’t even care that a family of four is walking up to my window. I should have. And I should have noticed that I left the green switch turned on from the last pair of tickets I sold. But the family’s wide-eyed faces clue me in now. They’ve heard every nasty word. For one terrible moment, the booth spins around me. I apologize profusely, but the parents aren’t happy. At all. Why should they be? Oh God, is the wife wearing a crucifix pendant? What if these people are fundamentalists? Are these kids homeschooled? Did I just ruin them for life? Jesus fu—I mean, fiddlesticks. Are they going to ask to speak to Mr. Cavadini? Am I going to be fired? On my first day? What is my dad going to say?

You thirsty?" Zero asked. "No," said Stanley. "Because you have three full jars of water," said Zero. "I thought maybe it was getting too heavy for you. If you drink some, it will lighten your load." "I'm not thirsty," said Stanley. "But if you want a drink, I'll give you some." "I'm not thirsty," said Zero. "I was just worried about you." Stanley smiled. "I'm a camel," he said. [...] When they did finally take a drink, they agreed to do it at the same time. [...] "You know I'm not thirsty," Stanley said, as he unscrewed the lid. "I'm just drinking so you will." "I'm just drinking so you will," said Zero. They clinked the jars together and, each watching the other, poured the water into their stubborn mouths.

If the total energy of the universe must always remain zero, and it costs energy to create a body, how can a whole universe be created from nothing? That is why there must be a law like gravity. Because gravity is attractive, gravitational energy is negative: One has to do work to separate a gravitationally bound system, such as the earth and moon. This negative energy can balance the positive energy needed to create matter, but it’s not quite that simple. The negative gravitational energy of the earth, for example, is less than a billionth of the positive energy of the matter particles the earth is made of. A body such as a star will have more negative gravitational energy, and the smaller it is (the closer the different parts of it are to each other), the greater this negative gravitational energy will be. But before it can become greater than the positive energy of the matter, the star will collapse to a black hole, and black holes have positive energy. That’s why empty space is stable. Bodies such as stars or black holes cannot just appear out of nothing. But a whole universe can. Because gravity shapes space and time, it allows space-time to be locally stable but globally unstable. On the scale of the entire universe, the positive energy of the matter can be balanced by the negative gravitational energy, and so there is no restriction on the creation of whole universes. Because there is a law like gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing in the manner described in Chapter 6. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist. It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going.

When I deliver Spirit’s messages, I have no filter—zero, zip, none. I picture my cranium like spaghetti in a colander. My brain’s the pasta, the water is the information pouring over and through it, and then the messages come right out of the holes that are my voice, expression, and mannerisms. I should learn to watch my mouth, though. A lot of times there’s no proper way to say the stuff Spirit tells me, so I just blurt it out. I was doing a restaurant venue of eighty people, and there was a girl there who lost her brother. I turned to her and said, “Your brother wants you to get rid of your boyfriend. He’s no good.” But get this—the boyfriend was sitting right next to her! So I announced that if I had four slashed tires at the end of the group, we’d all know who did it. The girl broke up with the guy four months later, but that’s beside the point. Or is it?

Reality is based on unobservable mathematical points (singularities). That’s the secret of existence. What’s at the centre of a black hole? – a singularity. What was the Big Bang? – a singularity event. What is the Big Crunch? – when spacetime returns to a singularity. What is light made of? – photonic singularities (immaterial and dimensionless; according to Einstein’s special theory of relativity, photons have no mass, are maximally length contracted to zero, and time has stopped for them). The whole universe is made of light. It comes from light and returns to light. Light is all about points – singularities. Light is the basis of thought, the basis of mind, and the basis of matter. Everything is derived from light, and light is nothing but mathematical points defined by the generalised Euler Formula, and it creates the visible world via Fourier mathematics.

If one had a particle with an energy above what is called the Planck energy, ten million million million GeV (1 followed by nineteen zeros), its mass would be so concentrated that it would cut itself off from the rest of the universe and form a little black hole. Thus it does seem that the sequence of more and more refined theories should have some limit as we go to higher and higher energies, so that there should be some ultimate theory of the universe. Of course, the Planck energy is a very long way from the energies of around a hundred GeV, which are the most that we can produce in the laboratory at the present time. We shall not bridge that gap with particle accelerators in the foreseeable future! The very early stages of the universe, however, are an arena where such energies must have occurred. I think that there is a good chance that the study of the early universe and the requirements of mathematical consistency will lead us to a complete unified theory within the lifetime of some of us who are around today, always presuming we don’t blow ourselves up first.

The shoot-to-kill order came through at zero one fifteen, relayed over a satellite radio. It’d been just three hours since the two-man reconnaissance team had reported the sighting. They lay in a shallow dugout on a windblown ridge, the leeward slope falling away steeply to an impassable boulder field. A desert-issue tarp all but covered the hole, protected from view on the flanks by thorny scrub. Shivering, they blew into their bunched trigger-finger mitts. The daytime temperature had dropped twenty degrees or more, and fine sleet was melting on their blackened faces. Darren Proctor extended the folded stock of his L115A3 sniper rifle. He split the legs of the swivel bi-pod and aligned the swivel cheek piece with the all-weather scope. Flipping open the lens cap, he glassed the terrain cast a muted green by the night vision. The tree line was sparse, a smattering of pines and cedars shuddering in the biting wind. Glimpsing movement on a scree slope fifty metres or so beyond, he focused in. The eyes of a striped hyena shone like glow sticks. He watched as the scavenger ripped at the carcass of an ibex or wild sheep. A second later it sniffed the air, ears pricked, and scampered off.

Scrolling through the rest of the 3,500 documents in Michelle’s hard drive, one comes upon a file titled “RecentDNAresults,” which features the EAR’s Y-STR markers (short tandem repeats on the Y chromosome that establish male-line ancestry), including the elusive rare PGM marker. Having the Golden State Killer’s DNA was always the one ace up this investigation’s sleeve. But a killer’s DNA is only as good as the databases we can compare it to. There was no match in CODIS. And there was no match in the California penal system’s Y-STR database. If the killer’s father, brothers, or uncles had been convicted of a felony in the past sixteen years, an alert would have gone to Paul Holes or Erika Hutchcraft (the current lead investigator in Orange County). They would have looked into the man’s family, zeroed in on a member who was in the area of the crimes, and launched an investigation. But they had nothing. There are public databases that the DNA profile could be used to match, filled not with convicted criminals but with genealogical buffs. You can enter the STR markers on the Y chromosome of the killer into these public databases and try to find a match, or at least a surname that could help you with the search.

[Hyun Song Shin] most accurately portrayed the state of the global economy. 'I'd like to tell you about the Millennium Bridge in London,' he began…'The bridge was opened by the queen on a sunny day in June,' Shin continued. 'The press was there in force, and many thousands of people turned up to savor the occasion. However, within moments of the bridge's opening, it began to shake violently.' The day it opened, the Millennium Bridge was closed. The engineers were initially mystified about what had gone wrong. Of course it would be a problem if a platoon of soldiers marched in lockstep across the bridge, creating sufficiently powerful vertical vibration to produce a swaying effect. The nearby Albert Bridge, built more than a century earlier, even features a sign directing marching soldiers to break step rather than stay together when crossing. But that's not what happened at the Millennium Bridge. 'What is the probability that a thousand people walking at random will end up walking exactly in step, and remain in lockstep thereafter?' Shin asked. 'It is tempting to say, 'Close to Zero' ' But that's exactly what happened. The bridge's designers had failed to account for how people react to their environment. When the bridge moved slightly under the feet of those opening-day pedestrians, each individual naturally adjusted his or her stance for balance, just a little bit—but at the same time and in the same direction as every other individual. That created enough lateral force to turn a slight movement into a significant one. 'In other words,' said Shin, 'the wobble of the bridge feeds on itself. The wobble will continue and get stronger even though the initial shock—say, a small gust of wind—had long passed…Stress testing on the computer that looks only at storms, earthquakes, and heavy loads on the bridge would regard the events on the opening day as a 'perfect storm.' But this is a perfect storm that is guaranteed to come every day.' In financial markets, as on the Millennium Bridge, each individual player—every bank and hedge fund and individual investor—reacts to what is happening around him or her in concert with other individuals. When the ground shifts under the world's investors, they all shift their stance. And when they all shift their stance in the same direction at the same time, it just reinforces the initial movement. Suddenly, the whole system is wobbling violently. Ben Bernanke, Mervyn King, Jean-Claude Trichet, and the other men and women at Jackson Hole listened politely and then went to their coffee break.

Then, in 1974, Stephen Hawking made a dramatic discovery. He decided to examine for the forst time what occurs when one applies the notions of quantum mechanics to black holes. What he discovered was that black holes are not completely black. When quantum mechanics is included in the discussion of their properties, it is possible for energy to escape from the surface of the black hole and be recorded by an outside observer. The variation in the strength of the gravitational field near the horizon surface is strong enough to create pairs of particles and antiparticles spontaneously. The energy necessary to do this is extracted from the source of the gravitational field, and as the process continues, so the mass of the black hole ebbs away. If one waits long enough, it should disappear completely unless some unknown physics intervenes in the final stages. Such a discovery was exciting enough, but its most satisfying aspect was the fact that the particles radiated away from the surface of the black hole were found to have all the characteristics of heat radiation, with a temperature precisely equal to the gravitational field at the horizon and an entropy given by its surface area, just as the analogy had suggested. Black holes did possess a non-zero temperature and obeyed the laws of thermodynamics, but only when quantum mechanics was included in their description.

Typically, proof of survival is held to standards that are rarely met in other areas of research, the hard sciences included. Much of what the hard sciences present as proven is more extrapolation from a set of effects than fact. If this and that are observed to happen, why they happen is deduced. From these deductions, a workable hypothesis is formed and then tested. We don’t know for sure, for instance, if there was ever a Big Bang, that stunning first moment in no-space, no-time, when something infinitely smaller than an atom exploded into what 13.7 billion years later would become the universe; nor do we know whether wormholes or even black holes actually exist. There has been no direct observation of these cosmic identities. The assumptions that they do exist derive from a set of discernible conditions that can best be explained — in the current state of our knowledge — by a bang or hole. The sorts of things astrophysicists and nuclear physicists now consider as probable conditions of reality also include equally fantastic notions such as the God particle (the Higgs boson), the many-worlds interpretation, string theory with its eleven dimensions — some of them “compactified” so we don’t see them — the zero-point field theory, and the hidden-worlds theory, which all read like the wildest science fiction and make any theory of postmortem survival look as dull as dishwater.

Cheng Xin stared at the death lines, her terror mixed with awe. “If these are trails, why don’t they spread?” Guan Yifan clutched Cheng Xin’s arm. “I was just getting to that. We’ve got to get out of here. Leave not just Planet Gray, but the entire system. This is a very dangerous place. Death lines are not like regular trails. Without disturbance, they’ll stay like this, with a diameter equal to the effective surface of the curvature engine. But if they’re disturbed, they’ll spread very rapidly. A death line of this size can expand to cover a region the size of a solar system. Scientists call this phenomenon a death line rupture.” “Does a rupture make the speed of light zero in the entire region?” “No, no. After rupture, it turns into a regular trail. The speed of light inside goes up as the trail dissipates over a wider region, but it will never be much more than a dozen meters per second. After these death lines expand, this entire system might turn into a reduced-lightspeed black hole, or a black domain.… Let’s go.” Cheng Xin and Guan Yifan turned toward the shuttle and began to run and leap. “What kind of disturbance makes them spread?” Cheng Xin asked. She turned to give the death lines another glance. Behind them, the five death lines cast long shadows that stretched across the plain to the horizon. “We’re not sure. Some theories suggest that the appearance of other curvature trails nearby would cause disturbance. We’ve confirmed that curvature trails within a short distance can influence each other.” “So, if Halo accelerates—” “That’s why we must get farther away using only the fusion engine before engaging the curvature engine. We’ve got to move … using your units of measurement … at least forty astronomical units away.” After

We were on a family holiday to Cyprus to visit my aunt and uncle. My uncle Andrew was then the brigadier to all the British forces on the island, and as such a senior military figure I am sure he must have dreaded us coming to town. After a few days holed up in the garrison my uncle innocently suggested that maybe we would enjoy a trip to the mountains. He already knew the answer that my father and I would give. We were in. The Troodos Mountains are a small range of snowy peaks in the center of the island, and the soldiers posted to Cyprus use them to ski and train in. There are a couple of ski runs, but the majority of the peaks in winter are wild and unspoiled. In other words, they are ripe for an adventure. Dad and I borrowed two sets of army skis and boots from the garrison up in the hills and spent a great afternoon together skiing down the couple of designated runs. But designated runs can also be quite boring. We both looked at each other and suggested a quick off-piste detour. It was all game…age eleven. It wasn’t very far into this between-the-trees deep-powder detour that the weather, dramatically, and very suddenly, took a turn for the worse. A mountain mist rolled in, reducing visibility to almost zero. We stopped to try and get, or guess, our directions back to the piste, but our guess was wrong, and very soon we both realized we were lost. (Or temporarily geographically challenged, as I have learned to call it.) Dad and I made the mistake that so many do in that situation, and plowed on blind, in the vain hope that the miraculous would occur. We had no map, no compass, no food, no water, no mobile telephone (they hadn’t even been invented yet), and in truth, no likelihood of finding our way. We were perfect candidates for a disaster.

It’s getting-up time,” Alessandro declares. “Today is the day.” “What day?” “The release date.” “What are we talking about?” “Daa-add. The new XBOX game. Hunting Old Sammie.” Armand opens his eyes. He looks at his son looking at him. The boy’s eyes are only inches away. “You’re kidding.” “It’s the newest best game. You hunt down terrorists and kill them.” Lifting his voice, “‘Deploy teams of Black Berets into the ancient mountains of Tora Bora. Track implacable terrorists to their cavernous lairs. Rain withering fire down on the homicidal masterminds who planned the horror of September eleven, two-thousand-and-one.’” The kid’s memory is canny. Armand lifts Alex off his chest and sits up. “Who invented it?” “I’m telling you, dad. It’s an XBOX game.” “We can get it today?” “No,” Leah says. “Absolutely not. The last thing he needs is another violent video game.” “Mahhuum!” “How bad can it be?” says Armand. “How would you know? A minute ago you hadn’t heard of it.” “And you had?” “I saw a promo. Helicopter gunships with giant machine guns. Soldiers with flamethrowers, turning bearded men into candles.” “Sounds great.” “Armand, really. How old are you?” “I don’t see what my age has to do with it.” “Dad, it’s totally cool. ‘Uncover mountain strongholds with thermal imaging technology. Call in air-strikes by F-16s. Destroy terrorist cells with laser weaponry. Wage pitched battles against mujahideen. Capture bin Laden alive or kill him on the spot. March down Fifth Avenue with jihadists’ heads on pikes. Make the world safe for democracy.’” Safe for Dick Cheney’s profits, Armand thinks, knowing all about it from his former life, but says nothing. It’s pretty much impossible to explain the complexity of how things work within the greater systemic dysfunction. Instead, he asks the one question that matters. “How much does it cost?” Alessandro’s mouth minces sideways. He holds up fingers, then realizes he needs more than two hands. Armand can see the kid doesn’t want to say. “C’mon. ’Fess up.” Alex sighs. “A one with two zeros.” “One hundred dollars.” Alex’s eyes slide away. Rapid nods, face averted. “Yeah.” “For a video game, Alex.” “Yhep.” “No way.” “Daa-add! It’s the greatest game ever!” The boy is beginning to whine. “Don’t whine,” Armand tells him. “On TV it’s awesome. The army guys are flaming a cave and when the terror guys try to escape, they shoot them.” “Neat.” “Their turbans are on fire.” “Even better.” “Armand,” Leah says. “Dad,” says Alessandro. He will not admit it but Armand is hooked. It would be deeply satisfying in the second-most intimate way imaginable to kill al Qaida terrorists holed up along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border—something the actual U.S. military cannot or will not completely do. But a hundred bucks. It isn’t really the money, although living on interest income Armand has become more frugal. He can boost the C-note but what message would it send? Hunting virtual terrorists in cyberspace is all well and good. But plunking down $100 for a toy seems irresponsible and possibly wrong in a country where tens of thousands are homeless and millions have no health insurance and children continue, incredibly, to go hungry. Fifty million Americans live in poverty and he’s looking to play games.

Five seconds,” Hole announced. “Until what?” Geist asked. “That’s okay, we don’t need to know,” Wanders said. “Whatever is going to happen is going to happen.” “Yes, it is,” Hole said. “In three seconds.” The

Then he turned to Zero, who had been quietly digging in his hole since Stanley's return. Zero's hole was smaller than all the others.

He wiped the dirt off and realised it was an onion. He bit into it without peeling it. The hot, bitter juice burst into his mouth. He could feel it all the way up to his eyes. And when he swallowed, he felt its warmth move down his throat and into his stomach. He only ate half. He gave the other half to Zero. "Here, eat this." "What is it?" Zero whispered. "A hot-fudge sundae.

I wonder who she was," said Zero. "Who?" "Mary Lou," said Zero. Stanley smiled. "I guess she was once a real person on a real lake. It's hard to imagine." "I bet she was pretty," said Zero. "Somebody must have loved her a lot, to name a boat after her." "Yeah," said Stanley. "I bet she looked great in a bathing suit, sitting in the boat while her boyfriend rowed.

COSMOPOLITANS AT THE PARADISE Cosmopolitans at the Paradise. Heavenly Kelly's cosmopolitans make the sun rise. They make the sun rise in my blood. Under the stars in my brow. Tonight a perfect cosmopolitan sets sail for paradise. Johnny's cosmopolitans start the countdown on the launch pad. My Paradise is a diner. Nothing could be finer. There was a lovely man in this town named Harry Diner. Lighter than zero Gravity, a rinse of lift, the cosmopolitan cocktail They mix here at the Paradise is the best In the United States - pink as a flamingo and life-announcing As a leaping salmon. The space suit I will squeeze into arrives In a martini glass. Poured from a chilled silver shaker beaded with frost sweat. Finally I go Back to where the only place to go is far. Ahab on the launch pad - I'm the roar Wearing a wild blazer, black stripes and red, And a yarmulke with a propeller on my missile head. There she blows! Row harder, my hearties! - My United Nations of liftoff! I targeted the great white whale black hole. On impact I burst into stars. I am the caliph of paradise, Hip-deep in a waterbed of wives. I am the Ducati of desire, 144.1 horsepower at the rear wheel. Nights and days, black stripes and red, I orbit Sag Harbor and the big blue ball. I pursue Moby-Dick to the end of the book. I raise the pink flamingos to my lips and drink.

At night I still wake up falling through the hole I tore into your dream.

ah’ve found fuck all else, ZERO, tae fill this big, BLACK HOLE like a clenched fist in the centre ay my fucking chest …

She told me she loves me,” I blurt out. His eyes open wide. “Wow.” Wow? That’s all I get? He starts setting up his machines. “How do you feel about that?” “I fucking love it.” My heart thrills. “But?” “But I’m just not sure.” He laughs. “No one ever is. You just have to go with your gut. If it’s meant to be, you’ll meet her somewhere near the middle and fall in love with her too.” “Oh, I already did.” He looks up and smiles. “Really?” A grin tips the corners of my lips. “Yeah.” “What does love mean to you?” he asks. “It means that if something happened to her tomorrow, I don’t know if I would ever be the same.” “Love does that to you.” “Did you feel like Friday was yours long before she knew she was yours?” He laughs. “I knew she was mine the first time I kissed her. Then I just had to convince her.” “Do you ever feel like you dragged her along? Like maybe it wasn’t her idea?” He shakes his head. “Never. Is that what you feel like you’re doing with Peck?” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. She told me she loves me. And she sleeps in my bed every night. And now if she left me, she’d leave a hole behind. That’s all.” “Has she talked to her mom yet?” I shake my head. “Not that I know of. That’s kind of why she’s with me. So she can stay away from her mom.” “Maybe she needs to face that. Then she could at least be with you by choice rather than by necessity. You’d probably feel a little bit more comfortable about her reason for being there if you knew she was there for you, and not just for the safety of your apartment.” He shrugs. “But what do I know. I had to have Friday lead me around by my dick piercing to get it.” He grins. “So, do you think she might?” I ask quietly. “I think she’s an idiot if she doesn’t.” “She’s going on tour soon.” “How do you feel about that?” “I’m going to miss her like crazy.” “Be sure to tell her that.” “I will.” “You know Logan and Emily are going to be traveling with them, right?” He gets a gleam in his eye. “Yeah. Why?” “Just saying.” I just wish I knew what he was just saying. “So, you’re the last one to fall,” he says. He’s serious all of a sudden. “I never really worried about you. I worried more about Pete, because I knew you had more ability to love than any of the rest of us.” “What makes you say that?” “I don’t know,” he hedges. “You just wore your heart on your sleeve. You love, and you love well and true. That’s one of your strengths.” “I’m not sure if strength is the right word.” “A lot of men would be put off by her stutter. Embarrassed by it. You’re not, are you?” “I don’t even notice it when she does it, but last night we had a whole conversation without her stuttering even once.” “She’s learning to trust you.” “God, I hope so.” “She

I bit at his bottom lip, worrying the skin between my teeth as I reached down to tap at his hole. His body jolted, a groan rumbling from his throat that required zero pretending. I knew his body well enough now. I

Judge thought Michaels was done, satisfied; but he was so wrong. That skillful tongue zeroed right back in on his hole, spearing and stabbing at it until it gave in and allowed him full access. Michaels spit, growled, bit, licked at his lower half like his body held sustenance. “Man you taste so fuckin’ good. You taste so rich and powerful, you taste like you’re mine.” Oh

If they were as we described them, the existence of black holes would contradict the principles of thermodynamics. One of these principles says that heat always flows from hotter to cooler bodies. The classical non-quantum mechanical black hole will eat up energy in any shape, including thermal energy. Therefore, it is colder than-or at least as cold as-any other matter existing. Thermodynamics will admit temperatures that are barely above absolute zero, but not this lower limiting temperature itself. The problem that a classical black hole poses is therefore this: It cannot be warmer than absolute zero; otherwise there might be colder objects to which it would pass thermal energy. But like all other objects, it cannot reach absolute zero itself. Thus it is impossible for us to assign any temperature at all to a black hole, and that clashes with the laws of thermodynamics. It takes quantum mechanics to resolve this contradiction. Stephen Hawking devised an answer in 1974: While the black hole itself does not radiate, its immediate surroundings can give off thermal energy by radiation, like any other mass. To an observer at some distance, the radiation appears to issue from the black hole itself.

I’d also toyed with calling him Caverat before that ‒ which I’ll explain in a minute. Anyway, Twitch was the nickname of the kid that took Zero's place and who I named Z after when he ran away in Holes ‒ which is still my favorite book ever. Now that I think about it, it's probably my favorite movie too. Not only that but my other cat’s name was X-Ray. He was mostly black but had several white markings that looked sorta like fuzzy bones ‒ with one in particular running down his left hind leg about where his tibia would show up in an actual x-ray. So I probably would've called him X-Ray no matter what but it sure didn't hurt that it's the name of the leader of the kids at Camp Green Lake. I even considered Stanley before that ‒ who's the book’s main character and of course, the star of its’ movie. Before that that, I’d actually debated calling him Bob ‒ if you can believe it. But cats shouldn't have regular old people names as far as I'm concerned ‒ with maybe just a few exceptions. I decided that neither Bob ‒ which only came up in the first place because I like palindromes ‒ nor Stanley were one of 'em. Even besides the bone-like birthmarks making X-Ray the obvious choice. To be honest, it was Nat's suggestion anyway. Back to Stanley though, even though his nickname at Camp Green Lake was Caveman, I decided against Cave-cat right away. But it did seem to fit Twitch since he was hiding under the china cabinet and all. Another name I’d thought about before she brought up X-Ray was Yelnats ‒ which is Stanley's last name and the emordnilap of his first ‒ and plenty un-regular-old-people-like enough but as I pointed out at the time, we already had a Nat in the house who yells. That made her laugh but it wasn't exactly true plus on top of it, I ended up having to admit that her idea was better all along. By the way, if you didn’t know it, an emordnilap is the reverse of a word or phrase that isn't a nonsense string but also isn’t a palindrome ‒ which spells the same thing forwards and backwards. Other palindromes besides ‘Bob’ are 'refer'; ‘bird rib’; 'a nut for a jar of tuna’; ‘borrow or rob?’; ‘racecar’; ‘Yo banana boy!’; 'deified'; ‘Go Hang a Salami, I'm a Lasagna Hog’ ‒ or like I already half mentioned… Stanley Yelnats. Emordnilaps make a new one instead ‒ such as ‘live’ and ‘evil’; ‘lived’ and ‘devil’; ‘dog’ and ‘god’; ‘stressed’ and ‘desserts’; ‘stops’ and ‘spots’; or ‘keep reward’ and ‘drawer peek’. As you’ve probably figured out already, ‘emordnilap’ is the emordnilap of ‘palindrome’ so therefore ‘palindrome’ is not a palindrome.

1) “How did I end up down this rabbit hole of being obsessed with men on the DL (down-low)? Why did I prefer playing more in the straight arena with the closet cases (as they were called in my day) and the bisexual men over the gay ones?” 2) “We didn’t identify in my day; you were either gay, bisexual, or straight. People will always label others or pigeonhole them without even knowing for sure who they really are. They presumably stereotype and judge just by your outward appearance.” 3) “It wasn't until the seventh grade that Sister Gloria would be my social studies teacher, and I began leaning more towards being an extrovert than the anxious introvert that I was. All the accolades go to her. She lit the flame under my ass that would be the catalyst for my advocacy. Her podium, located front and center of the classroom, became ground zero for me and where I found my voice.” 4) “Their taunting was my kryptonite. My peers hated me for no other reason than the fact that they thought I was gay. I was only thirteen and often wondered how they knew who I was before I did.” 5) “Evangelical Christian Anita Bryant (First Lady of Religious Bigotry), along with her minions, led a crusade against the LGBTQ community back in 1977 and said we were trying to recruit children and that ‘Homosexuals are human garbage.’ My first thoughts were, how unchristian and deplorable of her to even say something like that, not to mention, to make it her life’s mission promoting hate.” 6) “Are there any more Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. kind of Christians in this country today? Dr. King knew about his friend’s homosexuality and arrest. Being a religious man and a pastor, Dr. King could have cast judgment and shunned Bayard Rustin like so many other religious leaders did at the time. But he didn’t. That, to me, is the true meaning of being a Christian. He loved Bayard unconditionally and was unbiased towards his sexual orientation. Dr. King was not a counterfeit Christian and practiced what he preached—and that, along with remembering what Jesus had said, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’ is the bottom line to Christianity and all faiths.” 7) “We are all God’s children! That is what I was taught in Catholic school. God doesn’t make mistakes—it’s as simple as that. Love is love—period! I don’t need anyone’s validation or approval, I define myself.” 8) “You will bake our cakes, you will provide us our due healthcare, you will do our joint tax returns, and yes, you will bless our unions, too. Otherwise, you cannot call yourselves Christians or even Americans, for that matter.” 9) “The torch has been passed. But we must never forget the LGBT pioneers that have come before and how they fought in the streets for our lives. Never forget the Stonewall riots of 1969 nor the social stigma put upon us during the HIV/AIDS epidemic from its onset in the early 1980s. Remember how many died alone because nobody cared. Finally, keep in mind how we were all pathologized and labeled in the medical books until 1973.

The third and most notable problem with our current thinking is that it continues to be based on a model that prioritizes task completion above everything else. It’s a sort of one-or-zero, task-done-or-not, weight-lifted-or-not, distance-swum-or-not mentality. This is like saying, “I deadlifted 500 pounds, but I herniated a disc,” or, “I finished a marathon, but I wore a hole in my knee.” Imagine this sort of ethic spilling over into the other aspects of your life: “Hey, I made you some toast! But I burned down the house.

Is your last name your first name backward?" Zero asked. Stanley stared at him in amazement. Had he been working on that all night?

(The rules: Nobody mentions the abyss. Nobody goes near the abyss. Everyone pretends the abyss does not exist anymore. Everyone acts like they hear absolutely zero whispers and feel zero weirdness coming from the creepy big dark hole.)

Love, family, and organizational leadership is not a competition, it’s a collaboration. We have to choose our partners and teammates wisely to reach common goals and objectives. There can be no square pegs in round holes. We must know and recognize what fits to avoid fits and complications. There is zero time for unshared vision and undermining.

Entanglement means some aspect of our description of behavior can't be separated by space, time or dimensions. Clocks entanglement and dimensionality in spacetime: A clock runs at the same rate for an object falling into a black hole (but slows to zero at the event horizon for an outside observer) as it does in empty space and at the exact center of a black hole, if it is not spinning because gravity cancels itself out. Since the object's clock rate remains the same the whole time the difference is scale and dimensions. I would suspect that the scale of the other three forces is reduced proportionately. We might describe this as a fractal nesting of scale.

Now that we've opened our minds to breaking barriers in hiring, it's time to zero in on a pervasive myth that holds sway over most hiring departments: the 'Perfect Fit'. You've seen it—the job postings calling for someone who fits a particular mold, like a square peg for a square hole. The truth? This notion of a perfect fit is a mirage that can cost you dearly in the long run.

Stanley was thankful that there were no racial problems. X-Ray, Armpit, and Zero were black. He, Squid, and Zigzag were white. Magnet was Hispanic. On the lake they were all the same reddish brown color—the color of dirt.

The only way for the gas to have zero entropy would be if its molecules were fixed and motionless. But by definition that would also mean their temperature was absolute zero. The point is, if molecules have entropy, they are moving, and they therefore have a temperature. By this reasoning, for a black hole to have entropy, it must, like a gas, have a temperature. And that in turn means that it must radiate heat. But this appears impossible because nothing, including heat, can escape the event horizon.

But what if a hole were real, Shockley asked: not just an absence of something, but a true nothing-that-is? What if it were a particle all on its own, with an independent existence just as real as the electron’s? If this were true, holes would not need to fear encountering an electron.

Reality is based on unobservable mathematical points (singularities). That’s the secret of existence. What’s at the centre of a black hole? – a singularity. What was the Big Bang? – a singularity event. What is the Big Crunch? – when spacetime returns to a singularity. What is light made of? – photonic singularities (immaterial and dimensionless; according to Einstein’s special theory of relativity, photons have no mass, are maximally length contracted to zero, and time has stopped for them). The whole universe is made of light. It comes from light and returns to light. Light is all about points – singularities. Light is the basis of thought, the basis of mind, and the basis of matter. Everything is derived from light, and light is nothing but mathematical points defined by the generalised Euler Formula, and it creates the visible world via Fourier mathematics.

You will say Show me the body, and they will not show you the body. You will wear the only black clothes you own and they will collect what you forgot drifts daily around you: motes of pale dust, the day’s heat, a strand of her hair. You will not touch the mug left on the side table, ruby seal of her lips’ whorls and creases, the wet ring beneath it a zero, a gaping mouth. You will go to the grave and it will be an ordinary hole, it will terrify you. You will not sleep, or you will sleep beyond waking so it resembles a minor death. You will forget it is Tuesday, Wednesday, and one day walking from one room to another, you will realize a week has passed since last her breath shook loose. This will destroy you in that it has not destroyed you.

Eden, please, let me fucking cum!” His begging had zero effect on me, and in response to his plea, I pulled back and blew a stream of air on his puckered hole, making it tighten further. “Just get up here and let me return the favor then! You’re killing me,” he complained after arching up with another groan when I went back to tonguing his hole.

Albert Einstein once said that black holes are where God divided by zero, and that created some strange physics.

Further calculations showed that when collapsing stars are a little more massive than the Chandrasekhar limit, the pressure of the resulting neutrons-similar to the pressure of electrons-can stave off collapse for a little while; this is what happens in a neutron star. At this point, the star is so dense that every teaspoon weighs hundreds of millions of tons. There is a limit, though, to even the pressure that neutrons can bear. Some astrophysicists believe that a little more squeezing makes the neutrons break down into their component quarks, creating a quark star. But that is the last stronghold. After that, all hell breaks loose. When an extremely massive star collapses, it disappears. The gravitational attraction is so great that physicists know of no force in the universe that can stop its collapse-not the repulsion of its electrons, not the pressure of neutron against neutron or quark against quark-nothing. The dying star gets smaller and smaller and smaller. Then...zero. The star crams itself into zero space. This is a black hole, an object so paradoxical that some scientists believe that black holes can be used to travel faster than light-and backward in time.

The key to a black hole's strange properties is the way it curves space-time. A black hole takes up no space at all, but it still has mass. Since the black hole has mass, it causes space-time to curve. Normally, this would not cause a problem. As you approach a heavy star, the curvature gets greater and greater, but once you have passed the outer edge of the star itself, the curvature decreases again, bottoming out at the center of the star. In contrast, a black hole is a point. It takes up zero space, so there is no outer edge, no place where space begins to flatten out again. The curvature of space gets greater and greater as you approach a black hole, and it never bottoms out. The curvature goes off to infinity because the black hole takes up zero space; the star has torn a hole in space-time. The zero of a black hole is a singularity, an open wound in the fabric of the universe.

Banishing zero also solves the infinity problems in general relativity. If you imagine a black hole as a string, no longer do objects fall through a rip in the fabric of space-time. Instead, a particle loop approaching a black-hole loop stretches out and touches the black hole. The two loops tremble, tear, and form one loop: a slightly more massive black hole. (Some theorists believe that the act of merging a particle to a black hole creates bizarre particles such as tachyons: particles with imaginary mass that travel backward in time and move faster than light. Such particles might be admissable in certain versions of string theory.)

Removing zero from the universe might seem like a drastic step, but strings are much more tractable than dots; by eliminating zero, string theory smooths out the discontinuous, particle-like nature of quantum mechanics and mends the gashes torn in general relativity by black holes. With these problems patched over, the two theories are no longer incompatible. Physicists began to think that string theory would unify quantum mechanics with relativity; they believed that it would lead to the theory of quantum gravity-the Theory of Everything that explains every phenomenon in the universe. However, string theory had some problems. For one thing, it required 10 dimensions to work.

Thinking is what this short book is about. We’ve talked about two tools that help. The Data-Analysis-Decision-Action chain helps us focus on where we might have holes in our thinking. Have we gathered the right data? Are we analyzing it correctly? Are we making the right decisions, as a result? Are our actions in line with our decisions? The Positive-sum/Zero-sum/Negative-sum framework helps us think ahead.

The mind is a glass floor. The mind is the spirit’s tear. The mind is our prior and subsequent ghost. The mind is the Bullion Express and the blood on the tracks. The mind is a stone door. The silver on the backs of mirrors. The wave that defines the coast. It’s what the drunk grave robbers couldn’t stuff in their sacks. The mind is the sum of all and more. The spasm between one and zero in the Calendar of Black-Hole Years. The contract between the lash and the whipping post. A quilt of dreams stitched with facts. A meaningless argument among whores. Rain that keeps falling when the sky clears. A masquerade party, guest and host. A candlelit landscape of puddled wax. The mind is what thought is for. The parking lot at the Mall of Fears. The fire-pit for the piggy roast. What the soul surrendered and won’t take back. The mind is neither either nor or. The real center of an empty sphere.

Felt it: A wool sweater can be felted down to fit a smaller size or to make another useful item. My girlfriend Rachelle taught me that the forearm can be cut to make an extra-small dog sweater (the cuff serves as the sweater collar; simply cut two holes underneath for the legs). It keeps our Chihuahua cozy in the winter.

The Environmental Protection Agency estimates that about 97 percent of postconsumer textile waste is recyclable. Yet only 20 percent gets recycled because the consumer simply does not know it can be. When I was a child, I remember watching a wooden mill turn old bed linens into beautiful paper sheets at the Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, but I had forgotten about the class field trip until today. Throughout the world, a small portion of worn-out textiles is currently being converted into rags for the construction, painting, and automobile industries; another percentage is shredded into flocking fibers for insulating, padding, upholstering, or soundproofing purposes. But the recyclers wish they could put their hands on all textile discards, including the extras that we simply throw away or hoard for the what-if. Resale giant Goodwill, along with mobile recycling bins, accept both natural and man-made fibers of any brand for recycling. Those items that have holes, rips, and stains beyond repair can be boxed, labeled “rags,” and donated to participating locations, where they are then dispatched to textile recyclers.

Those of us who suffer from severe anxiety and PTSD, in my case due to inferiority complexes and repeated emotional, physical and religious trauma from a young age, know that the fear of being found out by family is terrifying. Combine that with the fear of God’s wrath (something I can never seem to shake off completely, despite becoming an atheist many years ago), the fear of being jailed in a country where being queer is illegal, and the fear that your partner will sooner or later realise that you’re this shaken shell of a human being and leave you because of it –it all creates this ultra-alert yet sad and anxious, broken robot. One with zero confidence and zero self-trust, and who is incapable of vulnerability or even allowing themselves to have wants and desires. I existed to please others, not myself. I existed to crave love so hungrily. I had a hole inside me that nobody’s love could fill because I never learned to love myself. I didn’t know how to.