we take different shortcuts

so the volvo's dead and my little sojourn back to FL drained enough money out of my bank account so that it's too deflated for a good used car. yesterday was a logistical nightmare, w/ mom having to show two apartments and mel w/ her gaggle of gammerstang friends rampaging in silk shoes through the kitchen and basement all day.
work's been fine, Bigs's glad to have me back from what i can tell ('the Nile ibis clack their beaks in welcome' accompanied by a hearty back slap), but i've been trapped in an eddy that this guy opened up on miami ave. w/ a law on eponymy and his own law pilfered from arnold jabbers.
me and N were sitting sipping thick drinks from cut glass at the part of the bar the tender leans on when there's nothing to wipe or pour, hashing out a hypothetical on shortcuts as definitive character markers. as Nadine's saying 'but the crux, the fulcrum on this epistemological see-saw, isn't the sine qua non, it's the degree of seeing or sawing, since everyone has eyes and a memory...' this guy, resembling the erudite gruffness of the lit prof that taught me ennui in Orlando, ambles up and says 'missy, the angle makes not a bit of difference if the fulcrum's crumbled' and buys us both an alabaster hourglass (gin, peach juice, a hint of goldschlager and redbull) and starts telling us he'd read a similar debate, in some abstruse journal taken w/ the solipsism of the socratic method, when he was attending semiotics symposia in Estonia in the 90s. and he cited this law of eponymy (and to whom it's attributed i've cogently forgotten) that states 'no discovery is named after it's discovery' and told us about amerigo vespucci and the hindu origin of arabic numbers.
i have to montage over the meat since i've got to pick up Mel from school in a bit, so we're riffing, Nadine renamed herself Music, the guy became Fred, we watched gold flakes waft around our hourglasses like glyphs signing something prelogos, and
we called ourselves discovery's, revealed by our parents but named as separate things, but then we went on to define our discoveries in more narrow and narrow cuts, giving us a plenitude of existential explorers who had no time to name us, nor would they give us theirs.
and what it comes down to now, is a sense of homage, like some thanks given back to the discoverer for not lording his/her name over it and for some reason my mind at that moment snapped to Bigs and his multifarious faceted character, and the shortcuts he took that i'd never seen and who pointed them to him and how, if at all, can i find these same sages, squatting at a crossroads under a gibbous moon just talking about their own myths.
and now i'm driving into one of mine, w/ Nadine's benevloently loaned Kia, public high school.
welcome matt out