20 February 2016

Undirected thoughts on a rainy morning

Dear blog,

It’s strange how an intense belief in the sacredness of life sometimes leads to greater suffering. Like, those who are pro… no, I don’t want to continue this reflection.

If we were to annihilate the tradition of X, would our world be more haywire than it is at present? (Let X stand for blah, or blah, or blah.)

Until someone enlightens me to the existence of something better, I am persuaded by the theory of evolution; but, although I accept it as the notion that best fits all known details, I still dislike it. And the reason I dislike evolution is that it will neither reason with me nor speak American English—it just sits there: a stupid fact, distributing anxiety for troubles that no longer matter. Please install a dimmer switch, and turn down our ape impulses.

Yet what in human nature should increase, in place of the ape? I say turn up the alien—at least that’ll be a surprise. When at an impasse, the best we can do is try failing in a less expected way.

Two things I’ve noticed:

  • Some use a small “g” and others capitalize the word God.
  • Some use a small “a” and others capitalize the word Art.

Near the front door of my apartment is a nightlight that plugs into an electric outlet: its bulb heats up and warms a cube of fragrant wax that lies in a chamber above it. The scent is crisp apple. My sweet­heart was also given two aromatic candles as gifts over the recent holiday season—they both claim the material “soy” in their title, and one of them smells nice but the other one stinks.

Weblogs and social networking. Why do we do it? I’m like a prisoner making etchings on the wall of my cell, just to keep my sanity… or, like that rich family from that silent movie that I watched last week, inscribing slashes within a nearby cave, to mark the number of days that we’ve been shipwrecked.

Is there no incentive for us to decipher how everyone can have their basic needs met? Apparently there’s a strong incentive for human­kind to ensnare and harm itself.

What’s wrong with this entry? It is preachy.

We humans are just fine as we are—everything is in its proper place, moving along thru time as it all should. (Do beings move thru time, in time, or as time?) No irony; I really mean that.

Unpaid ad: The philosopher Bertrand Russell arranged a number of words into an essay and called it Why I Am Not a Christian. One century later, Bryan Ray arranged some words into a brief pamphlet and called it Why I Am Not a Surrealist. Now this blog post is done.

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