Surely you must know by now, that all the movies, the tennis academy, that now disfigured map minx, Joelle, and pretty much everything else I’ve done since I was ten, had to do with my obsession with, but most specifically what (if anything) lie beyond the outer edges of the light spectrum (aka the electromagnetic spectrum) as we currently know it. There’s seven kinds of light. From left to right (left starting with the waves that have the longest interval from crest to trough, but please pay attention to note that direction has nothing to do with where a one might be found in space, waves are in fact most likely everywhere all the time if quantum mechanics has any validity; and yes I realize that means waves have to be broken down into particles bringing that confusing dual nature to the same thing, and pass through us all and everything else at every moment):
1) radio waves 2) microwaves 3) infrared waves 4) visible light 5) ultraviolet light 6) x-rays 7) gamma rays.
If my rudimentary calculations are correct there has to be something faster and more energetic than gamma rays and slower and more languid than radio waves. Concerning the latter, extrapolating from the big bang to present, there should be a wave that is the length of the whole universe and also contains and is an integral part of every other wave out there, both real and theoretical; something most likely attached to the Higgs field, or maybe even the field itself if you can break down the nuances and think about the fact that the space in which the waves oscillate might be considered a field. Of course, it’s unlikely that we’ll ever have instruments sensitive enough to make such measurements; at least with enough data to make a difference and even if we could the cost is prohibitive enough to make the powers that be shy away from any but the most rudimentary investment in the research. In the former, it’s not hard to imagine (or maybe it is) a particle-wave that can bounce in between tightly packed gamma waves or through the middle of atomic nuclei and go both unnoticed and undisturbed along its path. I don’t know, but it’s most likely some sort of minuscule neutrino or quark or something.
Even though it’s true that I, as well as many others, tried to further refine measurement instrumentation there’s been only minor success with detection thus far. All this fiddling with lenses of all different shapes, sizes, apertures, angles, photoelectric effects and the attempts at capture and emission of different wavelengths of light, making audiences reflect internally by sometimes extreme measures like mocking their very corporeal existences in that very theater at that very moment and never giving them the comfort of a completely guided external narration was all just part of a larger, and far more important, experiment. Or maybe experiments is more correct. For in fact there are two; the other being the pursuit of the perfect film. One that would make the desire to see any other film ever simply vanish. The ultimate in passive entertainment.
By the way, I in no way consider myself a scientist. I’m just a tinkerer of sorts, lucky enough to have been born in an age where both the scientific method and what passes for logic, at least in my mind, happen to coincide and also to be blessed with enough talent and into enough economic means to embellish in my interest without having to worry where my next meal will come from.
Even Avril is sort of the result of my obsession. So tall, so beautiful, so resembling the perfect wave. Especially when she wore that short blue dress and danced for me. It was when she stopped dancing for me, that she didn’t really want to dance for me anymore, that any real communication between us ceased. Sure, we sloughed through the necessities of married life, mostly showing a cheery countenance for the children. At least at first, and even, on a rare occasion engaged in a sort of perfunctory coitus. Like some sort of tradition neither really wanted to show for but afterwards both feeling so relaxed and satisfied, even if only for a very short time, before again being whisked away by our ever-diverging interests. But I believe that was because we were both so wrapped up in our own other pursuits that we wouldn’t have had the time to pursue another relationship even if we wanted to. There may have even been some genuine love at the core of both of us for each other under the multiple layers of rather suffocating resentment. But who can be sure about such things? Then there’s that cliche that’s mostly, but not always true, that we both told ourselves, that we should stay together, however miserable, for the children. They all know, too, that my personality is at best described as stoic and at worst completely introverted and bordering on a mildly anti-social diagnosis with my sometimes extreme penchant for avoidance.
It’s almost ironic that Mario, not anything close to what I’d consider the perfect wave and most likely not even not even my own son, was the most understanding and tried to be as helpful as possible to my life’s real work and never ending obsession than anyone else. Whether he was naive or deep I couldn’t really tell, I’d think I’d have it nailed down and then he’d do something clever or completely childish that would cause me to reassess my opinion of him and so one day I just stopped trying. Mario, that poor boy was more than likely, fathered by one Charles Tavis. And I guess I was okay with that and it certainly wasn’t the kid’s fault. So, if in the future he ever asks, I’ll tell him the truth and give the boy my blood or sputum to actually run the needed DNA tests and then we’ll all know for sure. Until that day, I’ll treat him no different than my other children. No that’s not quite right. I’ll treat him better because with such a disfigured map it’s obvious that he’s so lacking in the physical talents that my other sons have that, unfortunately for Mr. Mario, his life’s passions are going to have to be intellectual pursuits whether he wants it that way or not. He has absolutely no choice in the matter because he’ll never hit a tennis ball or kick a football no matter how hard he tries. Never run and never know the feeling of carnal knowledge; at least in what I know about his inability to notice things like needles that should be at least painful ring true to those parts too.
I knew a long time ago that I’d never be able to compete with Avril’s voracious appetite for the carnal pleasures and that didn’t really matter either as long as she was there for me when I needed her and she genuinely loved me. Now that things have degraded so much, I question whether that beautiful being could ever love anything or anyone outside her own desires and obsessive need to take control of everything, even though she must understand the futility of such endeavors.
But let’s skip anymore delving into the intricacies of interpersonal relationships and the making of films for now. That just leads to another obsession which clouds things but I’ll readily admit that I’m currently absolutely 100% in the grip of. The five fingers of Wild Turkey on ice must be within reach at all conscious times. I tell myself it helps me from getting out 500 miles ahead of myself and absolutely losing control of my own internal mental map but it’s a weak excuse and I know if I don’t curb it soon will mostly likely turn into an early, untimely and by most accounts, unpleasant ceasing of my map on this earthly plane. What’s important now, what has always been important since dad first put me on the tennis court and I hit that first tennis ball over the net for the very first time when I was six, is the waves. The beat and thump of the very universe itself just hides and waits for discovery. Of course, it roiled and boiled around my subconscious for a few years until I was ten until it slowly started leaking in from the dream world to encompass my real one. It occurred to me then that when I hit the tennis ball over the net that very first time, that I didn’t see the ball fly through the air so much as a crest of a wave in space. From that point, everything I saw was through some sort of parallax view. The best way I can describe it is that it was kind of like I was outer dimensional being looking in upon this one and everything was stretched like light refracting in water. Eventually I got used to it and it was like I hadn’t ever known anything different but it was also very apparent that no one, at least that I knew, had the same experience or could see the way I see. Until I met Lyle, but that is another story too. Given the fact, that for most living things, the visible spectrum consists of such a minute portion of the whole almost all speculation concerning the postulation of as yet undetected light waves must be taken as valid until experiments can be performed. Only then can hypotheses be discounted by reviewing the data mathematically. But if so much of light is undetectable by the naked eye and yet always moving and working around (and through) us, then there must be others out there that we’re unaware of that can work toward making whole the fragmented jigsaw puzzle we’re currently working under. That will help to reveal the purpose of the very universe itself (which, of course, would include all universes if there turns out to be more than one) and a real, valid and verifiable theory of everything.
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