II.2.16,18
2/26/2022
Ah, breast! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST!
BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! BREAST! Yes,
I’ve taken up a mistress–wife of a lieutenant. I sent him out on a scout, when he
was intercepted by unfriendly frigates and returned redfaced. He threw a precious
glass of Asti at me and I caught it and drank it. He wasted another one on his
wife, and his wife couldn’t dodge: She bled blood and red wine from her forehead,
like a soldier headshot in war. And when she later posed for David she tried to
hide the scar with her auburn hair, and he said this: ”No, part it.” That
sparked something perhaps: They shared a dream. Something about a
dead man in a hearse. No, he was in the hearse. No, he played with her
passions. No, it was very confusing. No, he wasn’t supposed to commit to a
girl like her. He had another one that took off on him like a statue. He
undid all his dignity and splayed himself wide open for that one, and it
stared back like a statue. He committed to continuing that pursuit out of
spite. She was fruitless, but God, wasn’t that it? What
did he do? He instantiated his devotion to that object based on certain
characteristics it presently possessed, and maintained that devotion in
independence of the variation in those characteristics thereafter. Bloat her, rip
off half her hair, flick off a tooth, and it sticks. Dilute the serenity and
selflessness, and it sticks. That’s a rigid designator–a proper name: causally
connected to that object and, maintaining that that conjunction held
in natural consensus and intuition, it was that same object referred to
by that name–”I'm infatuated with Sylvia”–that would forever be bound to his want.
For as a name can be bound to an object, so can love be bound to that
name. And suppose you come across another one whose characteristics
match those that instantiated the binding more perfectly? It wouldn’t
matter, because it was the binding, not the characteristics, that mattered.
And yet, here he was, walking down alone what he liked to call the Rue
de Lucky Shot pitch black past curfew, marvelling at the arrogance of
none other than himself. In the arms of a whole different lady: A whole
different beast–a whole different character, in fact. A new world in the
foundation of situation and circumstance: A divorcee. Something tackling
abstractness–down to Earth–consequential, and somewhat necessary. Something
incongruent. Tessie. Tessie. Tessie. Wasn’t any Cupid’s arrow a ”lucky
shot”? He was pierced by the stare of Sylvia–L’Inconsalabile. And he
tried to abstract the principle of that thing into something that extended
beyond himself, and the deeper he looked, the more he saw the cracks
written in the stone: The chipped crown; blemished nose; permanent
perplexion; the irreconcilable awkwardness of position and proportion
when overscrutinized; the reductionism of the concept into its grains and
phenocrysts; the voided, irisless eyes staring through and beyond him into the
vast emptiness of nothing. That was the ideal: form on form. But it
began with a shot. It began with a bang. And then there was Tessie:
Who posed for him, dressed Moorish and Japanese and nude and red and
gold. Whose arms responded to
his own in mutual embrace. Whose complexion changed depending on
the extent to which she had groomed herself. Who was perplexed, then
panicked, then reassured. Who wedded once and was now alone. Who
uprooted idealism. Tess in the flesh. Fleshy Tessie. Who gave him touch.
BANG! Was this it? Strolling down in the dark, where all the grandeur
blurred into vague nightly figures, and yet: Miles from Rivoli itself, he could
still feel the echoes of those two Austrian ammunition wagons exploding
and the tides turning. He could feel it, moreso than he could fashion
feeling 20 years of humble, hermited, hamleted living in the Romantic
countryside. Moreso than any ascetic, pastoral dream. Who was more
foolish? The one who rested on the laurels of their lucky shot? Or the one
who latched onto their lucky shot and didn’t let go like a horny pig, and
furthermore interacted with it, exploited it, demanded more out of it? Tessie ruled all. The irreconcilable awkwardness of position
and proportion–irreconcilable, of course, since humans are creatures of
motion. The world isn’t static. The world moves. White on white. Yellow on yellow. BANG! I killed waifuism. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. After having wasted seeds on seedlessness,
his revelation on that dark, empty street was nascent,
when he spotted a vague figure standing on the wayside facing him. He
suddenly felt dread cuz it was a man and the man approached him slowly his torso swinging left and right and he couldnt move or anything cause he hadnt
learned how and and the man stood over him like a grandfather clock and said
HAVE YOU FOUND THE YELLOW
SIGN?
HAVE YOU FOUND THE YELLOW
SIGN?
HAVE YOU FOUND THE YELLOW
SIGN?
HAVE YOU FOUND THE YELLOW
SIGN?
f nilpotent | ||||||
⇔ Af | = 0 | (according to Hartshorne himself, at the very beginning of this book) | ||||
⇔ 𝒪X(D(f)) | = 0 | (Prop 2.2) | ||||
⇔ D(f) | = ∅ |
So we want to show that
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As a reminder, f♯(V ) can be seen as a restriction of a map
|
given by composing with ϕP’s. This makes the ”only if” trivial. As for the ”if”:
Prop 2.2 tells me that if I let V = X in the above, I simply recover ϕ, so it’s
injective.
So now I want to show that injectivity dominance.
Let U = D(g) be a nonempty basis element. BECAUSE OF A, we know that g is
NOT nilpotent.
Now to show 1, we’re looking for a prime ideal P of X such that
So we need to get P from Q. And a natural choice for Q would be an analogue of 2:
Let Q be a prime ideal of B that doesn’t contain ϕ(g). Does one exist? Well,
if every prime ideal contained ϕ(g), THEN IT WOULD BE IN THE
NILRADICAL. Wait What? Yep, See here! (THAT PROOF USES ZORN’S
LEMMA) I.e. ϕ(g) would be nilpotent. ”Ooohh, does this contradict the
nonnilpotency of g?” Let’s see:
[ϕ(g)]n | = 0 | |||||
ϕ(gn) | = 0 | |||||
gn | = 0 | HERE’S WHERE WE USE INJECTIVITY | ||||
g | nilpotent |
which is a contradiction. So Q DOES exist, and P = ϕ−1(Q) satisfies our
conditions.
So we’d like to show
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It suffices to show that f is a bijective closed map: Let g : Y → f(Y ) be
f with restricted range. Then, first off, closedness of f means that f(Y ) is
closed. And since f(Y ) is closed, g inherits continuity from f. And since it is
bijective and closed, g has a continuous inverse. Therefore g is a homeomorphism.
So I’ll try to show f is closed. It suffices to show that f maps
closed basis elements to closed sets. So let V (g) ⊂ Y be a closed set. I want to
show that f(V (g)) ⊂ SpecA is closed, where
f(V (g)) = {ϕ−1(Q)|g ∈ Q ∈ SpecB} |
So I need a V (I) in SpecA that ends up equalling f(V (g)), and the most
”natural” thing I can think of is letting I = (ϕ−1(g)) be the ideal generated by
the inverse image of g. I can already get one side of the inclusion easy:
If P ∈ f(V (g)), then P = ϕ−1(Q), where g ∈ Q. But note that
g ∈ Q
ϕ−1(g) ⊂ ϕ−1(Q) = P, i.e. I ⊂ P, so P ∈ V (I). So
f(V (g)) ⊂ V (I).
Now for the reverse inclusion: V (I)
f(V (g)). Let’s say that P ∈ V (I), so
P | ⊃ I | ||||||
P | ⊃ (ϕ−1(g)) | ||||||
ϕ(P) | ⊃ ϕ((ϕ−1(g))) ϕ(P) | ∋ g | (by surjectivity) |
So, under certain conditions related to surjectivity (CONDITIONS NOT YET
VERIFIED), ϕ(P) might in fact be a (prime) ideal that contains g. So what I
am going to do is recover P by taking the inverse image of both sides:
ϕ−1(ϕ(P)) | ⊃ ϕ−1(g) | |||||
ϕ−1(ϕ(P)) | ⊃ (ϕ−1(g)) | (Taking the ideal generated by both sides (LHS already an ideal)) | ||||
ϕ−1(ϕ(P)) | ⊃ I |
And the left hand side is a prime ideal. In fact, if I recover P on the left hand
side, I’m done. And I know I can recover P because, following the cheatsheet,
ϕ−1(ϕ(P)) = P as long as ϕ is....
i....njective.......?
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Correct? Using surjectivity, we induce a ring isomorphism
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Denoting π : A ↠ A∕ ker ϕ, we can view the situation like this:
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which in turn induces
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Yes, π∗ is an injection, because every prime ideal of A corresonds to at most
one prime ideal of A∕ ker ϕ. And noteworthily, it’s also continuous, so
π∗−1(SpecA) = SpecA∕ ker ϕ is a closed (clopen, even???a) subspace of
SpecA. And the left side just says that f is in fact a homeomorphism onto this
closed subspace. Done.
There’s a ϕ is surjective so it’s surjective locally i.e. f♯ is surjective on stalks,
therefore f♯ is surjective.
Something is very wrong here.
What I’m going to do is decompose
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So showing surjectivity at ϕ1 would be sufficient. Now, I know that locally, given
P prime in A, and denoting P′ = π(P),Q = ϕ1(P′), this induces locally
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But I know that ϕP is surjective because I’m given that f♯ is surjective (and
locally, fP♯ is just ϕP. Hence, that last map is a actually not just an
injection, but an isomorphism. But although local surjectivity doesn’t
imply surjectivity on sections, local isomorphisms imply sectional
isomorphisms, and ϕ1 is just the map of global sections, so we’re done.
Okay: What’s the problem? The problem is that I didn’t use the
homeomorphism condition at all. So I made some huge error in
my logic and I can’t find it.
So what is this exercise about? Well, we have those convenient D(f) = X −V (f)
elements for affine schemes. This exercise is about trying to make a version of
that, Xf, for general schemes. Affine schemes work pretty nicely, general schemes
are more messy. Xf will be an attempt to give a bit of affine flavor to our
scheme, using the help of stalks.
How well does Xf hold up? Not bad, although it’s never confirmed here if they
make a basis (or even an open cover), and furthermore b,c,d tells us that it works
better the more quasi-compact-y our scheme is (When I said last time that
Noetherianness makes schemes ”nice,” this exercise is a GOOD reason!!!!!!).
Oh, also:
Hartshorne is WRONG!!!!! fx isn’t the ”stalk”, it’s the GERM of f in the
stalk 𝒪x.
So Xf, when you restrict to the open affine sets, behaves exactly the way you
expect: It IS a D(f) element.
If P ∈ D(f), then it’s automatically in U. So I’m going to assume P ∈ U,
and prove
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That’ll suffice.
Since P ∈ U = SpecB, I can view it as a prime ideal of B. Furthermore, since
U is an open affine subscheme of X, 𝒪P,X ≃𝒪P,U ≃ BP. Hence
P | ∈ Xf | |||||
⇔ fP | 𝔪P | (where 𝔪P the maximal ideal of 𝒪P,X) | ||||
⇔ fP | 𝔪P | (where 𝔪P the maximal ideal of 𝒪P,U) | ||||
⇔ fP | 𝔪P | (where 𝔪P the maximal ideal of BP) | ||||
⇔ fP | P ⋅ BP | |||||
⇔ fP | P | (← consequence of f ∈ B) | ||||
⇔ P | V (f) | |||||
⇔ P | ∈ D(f) |
SLICK, right? Now, here’s an obvious but VERYIMPORTANT CONSEQUENCE:
SO BE WARNED. If X = SpecA is affine, we now have THREE ways of
writing the same thing:
| (1) |
It’s definitely meaningful that each of these are defined in a different way under
different contexts (one with stalks, one with sections, and finally one with pure
algebra), but they are all the same thing in the lovely case of affines.
”WHAT are we doing here?” The key point to notice is that this is trivial for
affines, precisely because of the equality (1) I mentioned above. fna = 0 is
simply how equality works in the localization Af. IT’S JUST
FRACTIONS, YO. We’re basically building up to part d which is
to say, it all works out as expected for general schemes............. if they have
enough quasi-compactness.
If X an affine scheme, and a ∈ Γ(X,𝒪X), then if a ∈ A such that ρXf(a) = 0, then ∃n > 0 : fna = 0
So no let’s suppose X is an arbitrary quasi-compact scheme and give it an open
affine cover:
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Denote ai = ρUi(a) the restriction of a, and fi = ρUi(f)). Then
ρXf(a) | = 0 | |||||
ρUi∩Xf(a) | = 0 | |||||
ρUi∩Xf(ai) | = 0 | |||||
ρD(fi)(ai) | = 0 | (A: Xf behaves well on affines) | ||||
ρXf i(ai) | = 0 | ((1)) | ||||
∃ni > 0 : finia i | = 0 |
Now let n = max(n1,…,nl) (THIS IS WHERE WE USE THE FINITENESS
OF THE OPEN COVER I.E. QUASICOMPACTNESS), so we can in fact write
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for i = 1,…,l. Hence, fna = 0 (since it restricts to finai = 0 in each of the
open affines)
So, the wink wink nudge nudge in giving us quasicompactness on the intersections
is that we need to glue together a bunch of stuff to create the element from A.
Here’s how glueing works, as a reminder:
Now let’s start with the obligatory lemma for the affine
case.
If X is an affine scheme, and b ∈ Λ(Xf,𝒪Xf), then
∃n > 0 : fn | = ρ Xf(a) |
for some a ∈ A
smooch smooch smooch smooch. We can actually tack on an arbitrary extra
amount of ns to the equality above (still talking affines here), because supposing
the equality holds, we have
ρXf(a ⋅ f) | = ρXf(a) ⋅ ρXf(f) | ||
= ρXf(a) ⋅ ρXf(f) | |||
= fnb ⋅ f | |||
= fn+1b⋅ |
This is where it gets insanely messy,
so hold on tight. We have a finite open affine cover:
X = ⋃ i=1lU i |
And I need an element from each one of those that will represent our
a ∈ A = 𝒪X(X). To do that, I’m going to drop into each of these affines and
apply the lemma. Let
fi | = ρUi(f) | ||
bi | = ρUi∩Xf(b) |
And now I have no idea what to do.
bi′ = ρD(fi)(b) | (2) |
Now, since bi′ is an element of D(fi), I can write it as
bi′ | = bi∕(fini) | ||
finib i′ | = bi |
for some bi ∈ Λ(Ui,𝒪Ui) and ni > 0. I’ll take n = max n1,…nl again, and
replacing bi : = fin−nibi, I can write
finb i′ | = bi |
where bi ∈ Λ(Ui,𝒪Ui)... So, really finbi′∈ Λ(Ui,𝒪Ui). So these are maybe
the elements we want to glue together.
Do they agree on the intersections Ui ∩ Uj?
Wait..... I have to do the same thing again for the intersections? But then that
just creates an infinite recursive loop and I don’t even have quasicompactness at
the lower levels....
Uij | = ⋃ k=1lijU ijk |
Wow, the notation is getting really cumbersome and confusing, but there’s not
much I can do about it without losing accuracy. I’m going to go ahead and let the
restrictions of f and b be
fij | = ρUij(f) | ||
fijk | = ρUijk(fij) | ||
bij | = ρD(fij)(b) | ||
bijk | = ρD(fijk)(bij) |
(where D(fijk) = Xf ∩ Uijk). Then by definition of the local ring, there is
some n such that
fijknijb ijk | ∈ Uijk |
(I took nij = max(nijk)).
This is too much. There are too many indexes. How am I
supposed to work with this?
I want to glue these guys into an element of Uij. So now I want to check the...
INTERSECTIONS OF INTERSECTIONS: Uijkk′ = Uijk ∩ Uijk′. This is
insane. What is this nonsense? To make things clear, I’m checking the equality:
ρUijkk′(fijknijb ijk) ρUijkk′(fijk′nijb ijk′) |
ρUijkk′(fijknijb ijk) |
NO NO NO NO NO NO N ON N O NO N ON O NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO STUPID IDIOT STUPID IDIOT. I’M JUST HIDING FROM THE
PROBLEM The problem is that I can show that the elements equal each other on
Ui ∩ Uj ∩ D(f) but I cant show that they equal each other on Ui ∩ Uj more
generally, because the bi parts came from D(f) in the first place, so how am I
supposed to make a more general statement out of that? I DONT KNOW, AND
I’M JUST RUNNING AWAY FROM THE ISSUE BY TRYING TO MAKE IT
MORE COMPLICATED AND HAIL MARYING THROUGH INDEX
EXTRAVAGANZA INSTEAD OF ACTUALLY THINKING ABOUT THE
CENTRAL PROBLEM BECAUSE I’M IN A RUSH. THINK BEFORE YOU
ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK
BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE
YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT.
THINK BEFORE YOU ACT. THINK BEFORE YOU ACT.
I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I
give up. I give up. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a
failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a
failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a
failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a
failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am
a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure.
I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I am a failure. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do
anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t
do anything right. I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything right.
BREAST. BREAST. BREAST. BREAST. So there was that mistress. Her
forehead scar, Yellow mind scar. Perky pearly nipples. Baseballs, baseballs. I’ve
pinched the life out of those sweet twin tipped tits. I’ve pecked the right with my
femlips and narrow insuck whistled Revolutionary tunes on the left. Hah! But it
makes me wanna puke, yo. The whole matter was a shield against public attack,
anywho. It missed volume. No; it was perfect, but you’ve spoiled me! You’ve
warped my mind into darker figures, standing on the wayside of darkly lit streets.
Have I found the Yellow Sign? You are my queen, J. You–extravaganza fete fetishist, extravagant
spender-eater; pressing your fat tits against those of some Hussar booted
braggadician, sharing each others’ healthy meaty flabbiness in warm joy. And
I’m here, what? Thinning behind a redoubt on bread? Screwing sticks?
Conquering the East as you gain independence at home? Supplant me, for
the love of God. Let’s abandon Syria and beyond and I’ll come right on
home. Call me home and I’ll be at the behest of your feet. I’ll hang onto
your leg like a horny hog OH GOD YES I would climb up, scratching
your thighs and belly to reach up and get a taste of your warm breasts.
Ah, if I had them before me here right now, I would snort in your
dark nipples like a pig. God, your body is so fair, but your nipples are
unusually dark, like dirty mounds of peat. They are in my mind as I walk
back across the bright, blurry Sinai, keeping me sane. Would I die in a
duel for those those dual bowls of faith and justice. MILK AND CURD!
I’D TAKE EM BOTH AND YOUD CRY AND I’D LAUGH. YUM YUM YUM YUM YUM. I’m starving. Look at me. Look at how pathetic I am.
Take pity on this poor soul. Carry me like a babe and let me bite on the
summit of your left mountain. Part D follows immediately from Part C.