Friday, June 29, 2012
The Worst, Officially.
Well, here we are. I'm officially the worst at everything-- if a reputable source told me, "We will give you a million dollars-- all you have to do is just log in to this one site, once a month, for 6 consecutive months," I would lose out on that. I can't do it it. Why? I am the worst. More specifically? I think it's because I don't care about anything. Not in a flashy kind of look-at-me-I-don't-care-about-anything type of way-- as might be dramatized in a great many works of fiction and/or popular modern musicks-- but in a genuine, weary way. The earth is a transient body. No amount of elbow grease is going to stop our sun from exploding. I realize that is a total cop-out when it comes to how I choose to spend my 80-ish years here, window shopping. But when the chips are down or, at least, when they seem obviously finite, I am constantly pulled back to scientific knowns. The earth is a flash. The sun will die. The universe itself is a mere gust of an idea. This is a very juvenile thought process-- one that leads to getting an earring and possibly a ferret-- but I can't help what my mind does. I don't care. Some minutes I care. Some hours I care; some days I care. Sometimes I care for long enough stretches of time so as to string together "meaningful" little pearls of existence-- but generally speaking these are the times during which one does not count his blessings. I find myself interested only when the metaphorical basket is empty. At which point I generally choose only to remark on the emptiness. Whether that occurs for the duration of a second or ten seconds or ten minutes or ten days, it doesn't matter. Time is irrelevant. Space is irrelevant. At the center of the visible universe-- perceived as a helpfully concise 360 degree vista, viewed, again helpfully, from my exact, current spot-- there is a tiny gray star the color of my brain. Some days it shines. Some days it flickers. Some days it blinks out entirely. Sometimes this is recorded via fantastical technologies. If you cannot see my brain, you are obviously not standing where I am. If you can, I might ask you to move along so I can have a moment or two to myself, gosh. I am currently reading "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe. It's good.