11/24/2023 0 Comments Entropy lyrics![]() ![]() Blue,” he calls himself fleetingly-the first time our narrator self-identifies. And to be truly careful is to be truly complex-it is to know that one day something or someone may be missing, and their disappearance(s) may or may not be affected by one’s very own Schrödingery.Ī deceptively complex state of heart, it’s no surprise that identities might emerge from songs. Yet the narrator embodies Yeats’s gentle reminder: he treads softly, for he is treading through somebody’s dreams. ![]() His hunch is simple: someone in Arizona knows where the sun is it’s only a matter of finding that person. It’s true that the narrator’s small quest for the missing sun does not take him far, yet this does not stop him from approaching an edge of infinite distance. Energy becomes a capacity for distance, yet a circuit, by its very definition, depends upon looping. Imagine “simplicity” is your black wire and “complexity” your red, and electricity is stinging the air at your ears as you attempt to attach this uncanny battery of a novel to your heart. And “The Sun”-our errant hero expressing her nameless epiphany? For she is gone: The sun is missing the instant we set foot in this seemingly infinite version of Arizona. So where does this mysterious narrator fit into such a matrix? It’s not immediately clear at the start, and only a little clearer by the end. This is the true announcement of a collapse in space-time. Bill Withers, the Fleetwoods, Donna Summer, John 1:1) float in and out of this story to nudge us through this slippery nonsensicality-benevolent little clouds commenting on the faces and places the narrator encounters.īut it is imperative to call the first lyric of this story its very title: “Oh God,” the sun goes. Music becomes essential in a blank place like this: from the start, lyrics (e.g. ![]() So it is that the protagonist of this story is like many of us-deep in his dreams, he is nameless. But this novel is not a rational one Connor-an American research assistant at the Cognitive Neuroscience Laboratory at the Lady Davis Institute for Medical Research in Montréal, Canada-invites us early on to question the limits between scientific and dreamt reality. In so many ways, it is “rational” to constantly and passively reject the dreams we have, the dreams we are, and the dreams we come from for the sake of who we “really” are in the “real” world-for our real names. How seriously and playfully emergent-a poem pretending to be a novel that, somewhere along the way, forgot it was a dream. Who among us has not forgotten that they’ve forgotten something? Remember: thoughts come to us, not us to them, and David Connor will not let us forget that in his debut novel, Oh God, The Sun Goes (2023). IF WE MUST continue, then we must take a moment to trace our steps. Hofstadter’s Gödel, Escher, and Bach (1979) One seems to move so far, and yet in reality one gets nowhere. ![]()
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