Spots of Time Something Very Strange Opens the Novel the Nashville
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“When I blinked it was over. I was thinking my life would get slower. That I’d sort this stuff out when I’m older.” ~Typhoon (“Young Fathers”) “Lost in a dream, or just the silence of a moment? It’s so hard to tell.” ~The War on Drugs (“Lost in the Dream”) Spots of Time “Our language is so saturated and animated by time that it is quite possible there is not one statement in these pages which in some way does not demand or invoke the idea of time.” (Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths; “A New Refutation of Time,” p. 218) Something very strange opens the novel The Nashville American, and a reader’s first impression is to see this as a spooky and ominous sign that the foregoing book will be an erudite and esoteric enigma, or perhaps the fever-dream of a nearly-crazy philosopher. This strange thing is the epigram which quotes from the fragmentary denouement of a short story by Jorge Luis Borges called “Averroes’ Search.” In it, Averroes, the 12th Century Andalusian philosopher, has just written in his manuscript the findings of a search which should have been impossible to complete. Strangely (very strangely), it wasn’t Averroes who wrote this answer in his notebook, but Borges, believing himself to be Averroes while narrating the story about the experience of aporia in Averroes’ search. The moment in the short story illuminates the opening of the novel because both stories take place within spots of time. There is no straight-forward way to explain this idea, so please expect me to stagger my way through it. As I do, I will try to gain a clear vantage on a non-linear view of time—one which cannot possibly be real. Strangely (again, very strangely), this outlook is held as a fundamental pillar in the ontology of most of the nation/culture of Megana. It sees the flow of time not as a forward march of progress but as an intentional cycle honed upon meaning, purpose and identity. And if I may, I will discuss this topic here. “Will”—see? Borges was right. So much of life is just chance, but every now and then you know you’re in the right place. I had this happen once in a philosophy class where we got on the subject of time. I was a spectator in a short disagreement between two other students, a guy and a girl, who were seated directly behind me. I will name them Nick and Jess, just for clarity. With the attention of the class on them, there was something in the assigned David Hume reading which had Nick and Jess debating the influences of time…And yeah, you’re thinking this is the kind of nonsense that happens in Philosophy classes, which is why you left the subject to the pot-smokers while you occupied a seat in a Business Accounting class. Whether or not this was for the best in your case, reader, here is what you missed: Jess: …Yes, but how do you know your choices are in your best interest? Nick: Because I’m choosing to do them. Jess: You chose, but that was earlier. How do you know you still agree? How do you know you’re even the same person? Nick: I am. Jess: Yeah, but how do you know? Nick: I just do. Jess: Yeah, but how do you…like…know? This is the part where the whole class burst out laughing. Not because of Jess’s insistence on her question, but because of how the guy next to Nick reacted. Tom—I’m calling him “Tom”— had one of those full-on mind-blown reactions which always seems comical and which instantly reminded me of Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter in the movie Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Tom had been listening intently to the discussion, not seeming to have taken a side in the matter. But when Jess emphasized her idea, he was sent down the rabbit hole. He turned his attention away from Nick and Jess, and like a seasoned actor who knows he’s captured the moment of the scene and can simply react, looked forward vacantly and said “Whoa…” Tom’s reaction aside, it’s hard to make a case that we’ve somehow gotten it wrong with our intuitive understanding of time and continuity. There was a past, there will be a future, and this is the present; I am myself in each of these instances, and this idea couldn’t be more straight- forward and self-evident. Meanwhile, any outside claims which go against this way of thinking seem to be some eristic form of sophistry—like trying to trip someone up with Zeno’s Paradox while losing to them in a footrace. “Yes, you’re closer to the finish line, but you’ll never actually cross it! You’ll only get half way, then half way again until infinity! …” Yet, races are won. Likewise, idealism can only go so far before it must yield to reality. So in order to consider alternative perspectives on time, we need to justify its usefulness…or, at least, its rationality. Mathematics professor Sir Roger Penrose had a good solution for this sort of problem: He said, in theory, we can’t always know which postulates are true and which are false. But the truth tends to perform better than nonsense in real-world situations. So to find out what’s right and what’s wrong, we should put everything in play and find out what works and what doesn’t. And what works so well with our linear view of time is that it reflects the way we engage with our environment. As living beings, we are each a succession of physiological processes; we are, each of us, a multitude of chain reactions. Each process keys upon the momentum inherited from the collective moment which directly proceeded it. Applying Neko Case’s perspective in “Nothing to Remember” is entirely straight-forward: “I’m just action—and at other times reaction.” (Imagine the fictional character who has this thought as an anagnorisis…). Our existential paradigm is to consume mass and convert it into energy; through the emergent complexity of our extraordinarily intricate biological system, an internal awareness comes to perceive and analyze this process by seeing the self within the present moment. As memory unfolds, making an impression of each previous instance, time seems to roll forward like a wheel, tangentially touching the ground which represents the continuous, static and transitive span between the past and future. This thin band of time which we know as the present moment is no more than about thirty seconds, although I personally assume it to be only two or three seconds. When the present moment records itself through replication and memory, a dialectic emerges between the physiological process (the living being) and this emergent entity (the self). This was Jess’s point with Nick. She was saying the present-moment-Nick was under orders from the previous-moment-Nick (a series of them, actually). But since there is momentum and memory driving Nick’s understanding of the process—both of which are feedback loops—he is fooled into believing in a chimera of persistence. But, Jess would say: Only one version of you exists: the present one. Luckily for Nick, and for the rest of us as well, this statement is incomplete. Because of our memories, when we wake up with a hangover (or reckon ourselves to a similar self- destructive or disappointing consequence), we can ask ourselves: why did I do this to myself? Without memory, the present person would always be forsaken by all those yesterdays who had no sense of some future self. Without memory, we would always wake up to an empty stomach—or at least to an empty fridge. But because of memory, we can take a moment to reflect and find a fair balance between now and later. Because surely it’s the role of the present to employ the resources of the past and set the course of the future. All of this adds up to a postulate which is likely true: Our belief in the flow of time is reasonable. Yet it leaves the intriguing question: what if there’s another way to see it? Also: are there any flaws or gaps in our perception, opening the door to a slightly different or radically different concept? One outcome of our firmly-grounded understanding of time which instantly comes to mind is the oddity of time-travel—just by the fact that it even seems plausible. I am a big fan of time travel movies in general; I am inspired by the premise of Time Cop starring Jean Claude Van Damme and by the Stephen King novel and miniseries 11.22.63 about an attempt to go back in time to prevent the JFK assassination. But Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and the Back to the Future trilogy are definitely my all-time time-travel favorites. Bill and Ted’s is a must-see movie for anyone and everyone. Not only is it funny and surprising, but the two main characters essentially have the same mission as I do in these essays, which is to gather a group of historical figures to express a cohesive perspective of the world. And while I make my time-travelling circuit with the help of my books, the public library and the internet; Bill and Ted do it with the help of Rufus, their guide from the future, and his late 1980s phone booth-time machine.