12:11 is a few moments away, and some of us are grateful. My own thought is to match wits with the idea of infinity and understand it as nothing much more than a word. Put it in the perspective of other words. Think of it as a meaning, devised by a device called my brain. Try to understand this device as a limited thing that spins to the mood of what I will call a chemical factory. Backward in time I will go to my friends the blue green algae, because they too spin to mood, collapse sometimes into spores, sleep on endlessly until mood reawakens them to joy.
And yeah! I am released from the strictures of Calvin's Commentaries, where joy
is an apparent perfection for the thing that is me when all mood is gone, there
is no spin. And here, I must report to the great unknown that I met a man
who gave up physics to find better purpose in imagination. Which is a
somewhere out there, far beyond reality, unrestrained by words or mathematics,
it lies just this side of insanity. And sometimes that impossible place is
magnificent to ponder, but cruel to travel through as I can attest.