no daylight

There is no daylight, but dawn is upon me.
My  condition prevents me from oversleeping, but sometimes I go to sleep to early and can lose myself in sleep, whether it be from exhaustion, depression or both.  I pay a stiff price, much higher than yours for this.  Both my vision and sense of balance suffer extensively.  But oblivion is better than reality sometimes and i seem to be suffering from exhaustion, mental, physical or both.
 i incorrectly feel i have earned the few days rest i have had even though I do not, even though the exaustion comes from a cause that has nothing to do with the torn musclses that need to heal, the hard work finally completed, it is something much less.
I was much better off, happier, hoping that if i went small enough I would find the hand of god on the levers of existence.  The more I understand my theory, the less I like it.  I look at the sad and serious long faces of zeno and parmenides and wonder if they did not understand this.  I look forward to getting copies of that book soon so I can read it as someone else will read it one day.

The latest editon of AuT, the summary compendium model book is available.  In less than 50 pages is summarizes the 380 page complete vol 1.

It looks identical on the outside to the first edition.  Inside there is a 2nd, but it is not officially listed as a second edition.  There is really nothing new in it, no new formula.  There are minor typographical corrections, a new drawing, a very slightly improved copy of this one which compares the sum of squares to f-series compression.

There is little purpose in this other than to support the idea of increasing compression and to show how much greater is the increase in dimension in AuT compared to the pre-AuT polynomial mathematics despite the shared features.
There may be some corrections to the formula, but they are minor, less than those of true mathematicians who will come after me and wonder at how I could figure this out and still have so many mistakes, men who do not understand that the answers were not mine, but were forced upon me.  If you understand my work, you will crucify me for it; not for any inaccuracy, but for the horrible truth embodied in the theory, the killing of gods and hope.  But my theory absolves me and you for all your crimes.  It is christlike in its effect, but without the glory.  As my rain washes away your sins it also washes away any glorious reason for existence.

In the incredible shrinking man, I believe he kills a spider that is stalking him with a pencil.  I wonder if this is not intended as a funny analogy.
If not it should be.  think about the writer killing the spider with a pencil, it is funny.
Even in that horror story, there is a piece at the end where gloryof a sort is found in merging with the infinite

My math does not allow for that.  It is awful in its fatalism.  It is finite.
I give something to the reader in the story, a sense of dignity if they want it.  I will not have dignity I do not think.  If my current projects work I might find some limited comfort, perhaps...but I cannot go there can i?  I cannot write about what I really want, what I really expect the universe to give me in exchange for the horrible service it asked from me.  We all do what we will to ourselves, I should not single myself out.  Christ crucified himself, did he not?  I will crucify myself; but in my case it will be carrying out the will of a creator who cares nothing for our actions.  A creator or thing of creations, for might not all of these bits of fpix be nothing more than fuel from some non-dimensional fire that we cannot use to warm our hands?

Come for me one more time, see how cold I am.  I can only come for you when you are already gone.  I can see the future, I know what it holds.  Too clearly, there is no daylight in it for me.