What brings the unexpected together? Surely the comprehensive boredom of the expected unites unexplained worlds in an equal and opposite reaction to its own horribleness. The expected, despite its numerous flaws, is predictable.
Things fall apart, first Yeats, then Achebe, then others have said, but the physics behind this have been in effect far longer: our penchant for breaking from routine and heading into imminent disaster is so ingrained in our humanity that it must have existed longer than verbal language.
We fuck up one world because we can't stand that we have only taken one world. We have ourselves to blame, and this is why we are empowered to mess it all up for the sake of becoming more than ourselves. Forests that burn come back stronger from their own ashes. Should souls be any different?
Monday, January 19, 2009
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