Monday, May 19, 2008

There I reside

Sometimes I believe we are just atoms spinning into nothing.
Sometimes I believe that deep within there I reside, a pure, elemental being trapped in a coat of shit.
Sometimes I believe I am a coat of shit spinning into nothing.
Sometimes I have a moment that is like waking up and I realise I am nothing, that I will die sooner or later and it will not matter, that the light will go out and I will be nothing at all, not even a thing that once was.

Mostly I feel that we are looking out from deep and unyielding cages, that we want to touch and be touched, but we are hollow and if we were able to reach out, we would pass between one another, completely unable to intersect. Mostly I feel that we are a myriad echoes of the world, nothing substantial, and all our words and deeds are nothing but the splashings of a universe playing with itself, endlessly spinning inside itself.

I do not believe the universe is boundless. That is too stupid to believe.
I do not believe it did not have a beginning. That is impossible to conceive.
I do not believe it had a maker and I do not believe it is unmade.
I do not believe the universe is real if it must really be how you say it is.
I do not believe in gods because man is enough for a universe that does not have bounds or a beginning.

Which do you prefer? That you are a coat of shit laid around shit? That you are nothing and all your strivings won't add an iota to you? That you are some billions of atoms that have the illusion of being whole?

Or that you are precious?

***

It is already five minutes to midnight. Or five past. Depending whom you ask. Caring will break your heart, and not caring is impossible because you were brought up to have good manners.

Why can't you cast that aside? Others do. Others have no manners at all.

***

A virus has a coat of protein. What if it had a coat of sugar?

A nut has a hard shell. Apart from a peanut. Which is not a nut at all. But they are all seeds, right?

I was thinking, how did fruit evolve to be fruit? How did it transition from whatever it was to being something edible? Creationists talk about eyes and how impossible they are, but being a bit of an eye is useful: a patch of skin sensitive to light is an organ in itself.

But putting on a coat. You can imagine that a strand of DNA or whatever would attract protein, quite by chance, and then survive more readily than one that does not. But a fruit is something less obvious.

So anyway, you do know that a virus would not kill you if it could choose? If viruses were better designed, they would allow you to live just slightly below par. But they are not; they multiply mindlessly and the host suffers and dies.

Suffers and dies.

That's your life story. Regardless what you are.

***

I don't write a journal because today I took the kids to school and kindy, went to the office and sat dully doing what I do, drove back to Mt Gravatt and picked up the twins and then sat here for hours. I didn't see anything worth mentioning, haven't done anything worth talking about. Just a few idle minutes thinking which of the boss's daughters I would root if both offered (I decided I'd root them both for different reasons: one has a more appealing persona, the other big tits; then I thought, well, the more appealing one also has pretty decent tits; but the other one is sexier--now you're getting the picture, this is why I don't have a journal). I've been talking to P, but you can't call it talking, because it's like I am talking and she is talking but we're not having the same conversation. And I've been trying to find Be with me by the Red Guitars but I could only find the album version, and it's a really bad rerecording, and now I'm listening to songs on shuffle, hoping for inspiration for the tape I plan to make. So that I have music to play as I burn along the back roads of Brisbane's far eastern southeast. But I am tired of my whole collection, even the parts of it I haven't listened to yet. And I tried out Ladytron's new album, but it's disappointing, and a bunch of On-U stuff, but I don't think it's aged well, and I'm almost too afraid to play poker, because I have not been doing well for a while, just breaking even, and I wonder whether I will ever get it, and I don't think I will. And so little matters to me, not cyclones, not wars, not floods or famine or viruses in their coats of shit and

did you ever wish you were good at just one thing?

4 Comments:

At 10:45 pm, Blogger Arleen said...

Which do you prefer?

I would prefer to be precious, of course. But what good is preference if it's not the truth?

So here's how I'm coming to look at it. We're nothing. Just more specks in the universe. Specks of what, I don't know. Illusion? Matter? I don't know. Don't care. I can't change it.

But I experience this as something real, and that is something upon which I can have some influence. Control? Hardly. But certainly influence. So that's where I reside; in an experience that I try to make as positive as I can within my meager means. I am precious to me. I am precious to those who love me. And those whom I love are precious to me.

did you ever wish you were good at just one thing?

Yes.

 
At 2:07 am, Blogger There's one inside us all said...

I've been talking to P, but you can't call it talking, because it's like I am talking and she is talking but we're not having the same conversation.

You could try having a conversation people want to join in with.

Perhaps if I'd had the misfortune to marry you, I'd sit back and take the all shades of cunt you paint me without batting so much as an eyelash.

Actually, that's bullshit. Bring it on.

 
At 8:13 am, Blogger Dr Zen said...

"You could try having a conversation people want to join in with."

Does it ever cross your mind that they could have one that suited me for once?

"You could try having a conversation people want to join in with."

Or I could just talk to myself, hey?

 
At 8:00 pm, Blogger There's one inside us all said...

Does it ever cross your mind that they could have one that suited me for once?

You're such.a.bitch.

And to think I whored myself on Soulseek for you. Pimp.

 

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