Barber: So what’s your talk about in Milwaukee.
B: Really? What’s that all about?
Me: I’m not really sure. I don’t know if I can pull it off or what I’m trying to say yet.
B: That’s cool, man.
Me: Well take a brick.
B: What’s that? A brick?
Me: Yeah, like on a house.
B: Oh, I got ya, man.
Me: A brick is a form of origami, like a crumpled piece of paper.
B: Say what?
Me: It folds the forces of the cosmos into it, invaginates them. It folds the pressure of the other bricks about it into it, if it has lots of iron it folds the oxygen into it giving it that red color, it folds gravity and temperature in it, becoming brittle when it’s cold and molten when very hot. Sound, light, pressures, air, all of these things are folded into it and it unfolds these things in the unique event that it is according to the structure that it has. This conversation that we’re having, see those bricks over there on the wall? The timber of the sound of our voices, the acoustics of this room, is an origami of our voices and those bricks. Our voices have folded the bricks into themselves and unfolded it in a new vibration of sound. Everything is a fold or folding, both individual and continuous with what it folds.
It might be better– I haven’t decided yet –to say that everything is a wave. A wave is continuous with the water in which it occurs, yet distinct. It both folds the currents of wind and water into itself and unfolds them in a rolling pattern across a plane. It both arises from that plane but is distinct from it and changes it. The dreams you told me about earlier are now a wave in me, folded into me, becoming something other yet remaining those dreams.
B: [The scissors pause, stunned silence] That’s so cool, man! [He looks at his scissors and about the room] It’s like everything is digesting everything else. These walls have the past, music history [they’re covered with music posters], all these conversations and happenings folded into them. That’s so cool, man. Wow.
We had talked earlier about psychoanalysis and dream interpretation. Apparently he had heard my unconscious, for I’m always thinking about food. Everything is a wave and within those waves there are but more waves. Not a bad start, I hope.