reciprocitY

A collision of gifts is no exchange no matter how symmetrical or repetitiously trodden its route, which is also to say a habitat enframed by habits. A bullet may absorb or fortuitously bounce away: there will be mushrooms in any case only depending upon the mutual fluidity of the impact. Or it's not the law of gravity, nor grammar, makes a basketball bounce – try it sometime without air and you'll come up flat – with or without reverse english or a clever spin by your eulogist!

As good as a reflection, or for the hearing-enabled, an echo, another word for the principle of reversibility is "reciprocity" – the reference is to kinship (or aesthetics) and only tangentially to naming – it's not politically economic whatsoever which is a cause-effecting mathematical thing, that is the barratrous flight of fanciful exclusions. The name is an address or reference, like when a mountainous landmark IS the destination, not merely a signpost or its mealy-mouthed representation. Without impersonation like the exchange of tits and tats, there are neither lines nor continua – all it really takes to float is buoyancy and only where you're looking does a bobbling bouy mark a spot, hence the serenic screams of sirens and flashing lights of titans.

The concern is more with harmony (or non-abrasive sensibility or resonance) than reproduction (see the phonological association of "artful" and "heart-felt"). Consequently, endurance is merely a word for continuity and when we do get to reproduction, a sort of ex post facto mimicry through immersion, we're really talking transformation like weighing anchors or cutting strings of attachment. Without the lines of linearity, there is nothing to exchange so no direction which can't run both ways and nothing is the same even though the only sense made is through a lens of commonality. This is why for Alice, the looking-glass world is not just backward but well-twisted (and vice-versa). Reversibility is not confined by mathematics, its just that jailers are often in-the-closet mathematicians so prisoners themselves – of logic.

The language of "a", the language of "an", the article and it's negation just like anarchy, the contraction's apostrophe or excuse for ownership only looks like a non-sequitur or artificially sequestered juxtaposition. Compare "the man's a dog" and "the man's dog" – "a dog" as "not-dog", "is" as "has". We should laugh at such language-cops or other varieties who'd make formidable attempts to distinguish themselves – they ARE the joke of irreversibility. Substantial literally means good footing (as in "under stand"). To be merely under foot does not indicate a favourable stance: one could trip. Like the trickster, substance is just as happy being a nuisance as getting you off. Water-walkers are rare outside of the insect world so flying may be the safest option, and not in the direction of a moth toward a light-bulb or camp fire. There is also the less apparent quicksand to consider. The law is hyper-reason, which is also to say it bends: deep down it's just an insubstantial system of substandard excuses flexing in direct ratio with it's holder's muscularity.

With the nature of mawing and clamping and states of voluptuous emotion, vice and Vice are never really far apart. A vise is an american tool for squeezing immorality. From the start, law creates the space or zone for an all too-apparent hypocrisy. It is the tool of choice for non-believers – where there is no belief, not just a suspension of judgement, there is no real hypocrisy, just exclusion put off. The exceptional state and state of exception are joined at the hip. The law merely provides an expediency. The pope can annihilate pagan villages while adorning his church with pagan and even, according to the laws of propriety, unvirtuous imagery of saints and goddesses flaunting the dress code, and still be proclaimed patron of the arts as well as of polyamorous kings named henry:

on island nations like Japan, eight is always the lucky number. For the seventh son of seven sons, the eighth's not always father. For some it's baby jesus if not an aristotle; the more poetically inclined still call her mother and are less inclined to throttle.

– Atka Mip

While the law expresses consistency (by definition) its application has never (nor can it) – for most of its duration, unless perturbed it's flaccid. The nature of power is ever and only whimsy, while protocol is attended so no one else will notice. Consistency is a fetish when not disingenuity. The default position concerning laws is their breaking asunder (read as well "us under"), like a ball that's never really happy to settle down, even and especially after a slam dunk. Punishment of such faults is thereby among the most futile of absurdities, like beating an earthquake for its transgression. Punishment's nonviolent emulation is the mark of hypocrisy which is also to say, "meaningless", like asserting one is deader after clubbing than would be the case from excessive choking from the office of the governor.

Like the reversibility of applied immolation for heresy and barbarians burning down the city, all that's really happened is closing a circle to prevent spiraling about and fluttering away. It's the moving nature of a coven, not the crispied critters' steadfast stance within the cooking oven. And while for run-aways or not, "spaced out" is an acceptable amnesia, as a likely destination, the only real gibberish may be "outer space". As a wishful manifestation, watching star trek may be fun, but funner still is when you see it watching back.