cowboy

cowboy

Since I've been asked at various times "why a cowboy?" and am currently looking for a way to avoid homework (seriously, I would rather go to the dentist or something), I figured now is as good a time as any to explain the cowboy.

First off, I am not a cowboy. (Big surprise, innit?) Just as my name isn't Brat.

However, there is a wonderful book by Josephine Tey titled Brat Farrar, in which the main character's name (sort of) is Brat Farrar. And he is an English orphan who ran away to America and became a cowboy for a while. (Then he breaks his leg and goes back to England and impersonates some rich orphan who apparently committed suicide and has a twin and would be about to inherit a lot of money if he weren't supposed to be dead, only they never found a body so that's suspicious, AND THERE ARE HORSES, but none of that pertains to the matter at hand.)

Anyway, hence the cowboy.
I had a strange dream last night that involved me using a type of Program Magic. I was walking my mom down a street in a seedy looking neighborhood so I could show her something, but it turned out that the building I wanted to get into was locked. There was a second-story window open but to get in I would have to explain to my mom first that I was willing to break and enter, and second that I was going to use magic (my mom didn't know I practiced magic as well as studied it, and was very suspicious of the use of magic). I decided to cast a spell to levitate myself into the window. I began constructing a makeshift conduit to counteract gravity and raise my body into the window when I heard someone moving behind us, and realized we were being watched. I wasn't quite supposed to be in the neighborhood and now I had endangered my mother - I broke off from constructing the conduit and told her to start running.

We ran down the street the way we had came and men began popping out behind parked cars with old-fashioned gangster machine guns in their hands. I surmised that they had warded their street to warn them of intruders and were now going to try and gun us down. I didn't know an actual spell for traveling fast but thanks to Einstein (I must have been a senior) and a knowledge of the general principles I tried to shape time around us so we could run faster than the bullets of their guns. Unfortunately, my spell was poorly grounded and when I crossed some of the gangsters' wards the magics interfered and exploded. My time-spell disintigrated then but we reached my car and drove away as fast as we could with the explosions still going on behind us.
I wanted desperately to write something in connection with this - a series of letters between two scientists about magic, someone's notes on a set of experiments, something - but this stupid essay is being recalcitrant. *kicks essay* If it weren't due tomorrow I'd scrap it and try a different topic. Don't really have the time now, though.

Argh.

Maybe it'll look better in the morning. I hope so.
Magic and Planck
Okay okay okay - how about this: what if, instead of magic being something like electricity, it's probability. So when you levitate something, all you're doing is tweaking the probability levels (or something - I'm not really sure what terminology to use) so that all the atoms go up. And you have to use symbols and stuff because - like in Hegel (and I thought I'd never use those words) - you have to declare your intent in order for it to happen, and speech is too temporal. Only something written (or drawn) is outside of time.

Is that crazy? I think it works better than what I was trying to do before.