I suffer from an inner problems that causes a tremendous amount of dizziness. It is controllable with a silly exercise, but it's been getting worse or I've been too slack with the exercises or both. The dizziness is a practical problem, however it also causes hallucinations which are entertaining in a nauseous sort of way now that I know they aren't symptoms of stroke or brain tumor.
I can never be completely sure if I'm not suffering false memories or if I'm here having a conversation. I remember vaguely the questions the doctor asked.
"Are the false memories like flashing lights or going to the circus?"
I answered, "Not like the circus, but said that I remembered conversations that hadn't happened and he responded, "that's going to the circus."
The battery of tests that were run on me afterwards assured me that everything that could be viewed without slicing into my cadaver showed no signs of imminent demise, but apparently whatever is wrong with my inner ear assures me that for the rest of my life I will either be diligent or dizzy. Sometimes I think these false memories may be views into some alternate reality; but I'm at least an amature physicist and I've proven to my own satisfaction that such universes do not exist, at least not the way that they are predicted today. My false memories and my detachment from what is around me is only a part of my own insanity.
What is my insanity? It's pretty easy to describe, pretty easy to diagnose, some sort of ego problem. Pathological narcissism in high functioning individuals I think is the clinical description, I'm not fully vested with the disease, knowing my limitations, but I have the fantasies and when I was much younger, I believed myself special, believed in the possibility of unlimited power. Unfortunately, I now believe in the ultimate powerlessness of men. Sadly, my physics has brought me full circle. Even so, somewhere in the back of my mind I am preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited wealth, power over my fellow man, and, above all, the fantasy of ideal love.
The fantasy of real love...this is embodied in a single woman. The first time I saw her, I was in love. It was a fascination, an infatuation if you will, only available to someone of my unique traits, both clinically insane and high functioning. No one without these traits could hold so tightly for so long to an ideal.
But she was more beautiful than you can imagine. Jet black hair, a tight, compact body, flashing blue eyes, made all the more beautiful against the backdrop of the dark hair, the oval face. However, when I met her she was dating my best friend. Back then I had friends, I was not so far gone, nor so jaded that I couldn't also find room to fantasize about the perfect friendship, because since childhood I had experienced a friendlessness, a sense of abandonment of the world from when my parents died at an early age, my mother from cancer, my father from depression. Even the friends that I had, those who would have clung to me were kept away from really knowing me by the bubble I kept around myself.
The girl? You want to know about my relationship to the girl? There was none. I was far to gallant to do anything then. I would become desperate later, when the fantasy was challenged, but then I was young. I did what i could to stay close and I engaged in a series of relationships, many of which ended when I was forced to lie and say that I was in love. But my love was all taken by then. In the conversations we had, the short moments stollen in a bar, in the living room of our apartment, the one I shared with my friend, after she had spent the night screaming out in her love and passion with my roommate. Oh how I suffered, oh how I hid even from myself in the meaningless sexual trysts, many of which went on for years. But none were faithful, because how could I be faithful to anyone else when all of my love was already held captive by another.
I could give my body to someone else, I could seduce them, tie them up, make physical love to them, but there was no real love left. It was not that I was incapable of love because of my disease. Far the opposite, I was more capable of love than anyone else. It was all merely focused on the one place where it could not take root. No that is not true, it took root in my own heart, unrequited it completely suffocated my heart, making me cold to everyone else, clinically able to pretend love, unable to consummate it.
It was many years after this that I was watching documentary science fiction about the higgs boson. I have a paper read all over the world on this subject, but largely unknown even to the scientific world. If you were to find it, it would be like finding the clinical notes of Count Frankenstein on how to animate the dead. No, I did not animate the dead, something which will undoubted be done one day, but for no purpose. No, the horrors of my own work are far worse than anything else ever determined by science.
You see, the reason for the anger I feel when I watch nonsense about this so called "god particle" my work definitively shows that the higgs boson is a bit of pre-nlc nonsense. And this is not a part of my insanity, although it certainly would make my insanity worse if it were capable of that, instead this is a part of physics.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against particle accelerators. The fact that the are completely mis-designed or at least misused is not relevant to the entire concept of trying to understand linearity. Unfortunately, no one was listening to me for whatever reason, and the very theory which should have led to my screaming taught me that to yell it out was pointless.
So why watch nonsense about it? Well, real science is built on top of nonsense. There was alchemy before chemistry, at least in the west.
And my anger came from frustration. For I knew more about the universe than anyone else. I was a quiet, unknown Einstein. The true scientists wouldn't acknowledge me because I had turned my back on them. But I had also proven their acknowledgement thought sought by me, was irrelevant. But i did want their money.
How much money they wasted on these huge particle accelerators will never be fully calculated and with no money and no expensive equipment had solved the mysteries that those with huge budgets had not even approached, because to do so they would have to steal my work. This is something they would do eventually, but the horror of my proofs were much too hard to accept for such common brilliance, it required a complete lack of brilliance, a genius dullness to discovery and then accept something that rendered life so poignantly pointless. Oh but the money they wasted, and none given to me. A machine can do more than confirm what the human mind has discovered. But the stupidity of this is that one person comes up with a clever, but wrong idea and that takes all the money away from someone who figured everything out right.
The reason that everyone is wrong (besides me) is that traditional thought and physics includes a "background". Einstein saw it as variable and string theorist saw it as fixed, but either way they're wrong. There is no background. If there were a background, there would be a fixed answer for pi and at some level you'd get to the minimum size of the background and you'd be able to split it again so there'd be no minimum size. The scientists argued at once for a minimum, Planck length while holding on to the notion that space existed. I was not so narrow minded.
But we were talking about living, really living life, and the warm winter day in 2004, and this was before I had figured out what quantum physics should look for at the very least.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHEj4cRhm3E
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