there's probably no god, so stop worrying and enjoy your life;

I think it's best when discussing the world at large to think of the world as a snowglobe. When I look out at the horizon and see the trees touch the sky, I imagine that the curved sky only lands to the other side; that there is actually no equidistant atmosphere. My knowledge of the world's reality is such that I am enclosed and ready to be shaken within however many miles of my life.

The reason, I think, that I do such things is not because I'm trying to be manipulative or imaginative, whimsical or otherwise restrictive in my perceptions, but only that when I think of the world as it really is I am either too depressed or too overwhelmed to do much about it. If you imagine a piece of sidewalk that is only two feet long, that travels under your foot in any given day, and you concede that there are five thousand plus feet in a mile, and there are a thousand plus miles in the nation of America, and four thousand plus miles in the circumfrence of the equator, you're faced with the realization that all of humanity is in general operating on the miniscule. Further, when you factor in that despite this incredible ratio of actual earth occupied to actual earth present, outside of the ocean we have taken over an incredibly large chunk of it. We have taken over enough to justify a climate change. The last creatures to do this were the dinosaurs.

And underneath every bit of cement there is dirt, and this dirt is easier on our feet than the cement. Underneath every piece of tar there is earth and crust and grass that could be growing, and that is sometimes easier on our tires than pitfalls. The honest truth is that underneath most of the cement is actually stuff that is better for us and the creatures around us, but we've covered it up and now ruined it... and sadly, recovery will be long and excruciating.

I once read in biology class, in the tenth grade, mind, so this was just barely post-millenium, sometime around 9/11 biology, that an ecosystem can take over one hundred years to recover from devastation. So everywhere we have paved, there is a hundred years or more of recovery work. It's at this point I become depressed or overwhelmed... it depends if I become Platonic. You see, if I become Platonic, then I start to think, "then for every piece of my person I have paved over, as the city is but the soul writ large..."

Does that mean it's a year for every piece?
Ten years?
One hundred?

And that will take me to the world of depression. Regardless of psychotherapy, psychoactive drugs, retroactive reality or whatever the fuck 'ive' you want to use, it seems that world reconstruction is just as slow and painful as internal reconstruction, and life has infinitely less time to reconstruct than a giant rock hurtling through time/space does.

If I'm to be overwhelmed, I begin to think about what might be under the sidewalk. The worms, the grass, the rocks and pebbles, and I imagine them without me, without anyone, finally broken through the cement after a particularly freezing rain storm without the trucks to replace what has been cracked by nature. I imagine Chernobyl, and try to picture what the deer are like now, the deer that have survived the radiation - I try to imagine what the steppe is like there, and the trees, and what that would be like at the RTD station on Broadway with the homeless man huddled on a bench when the dirt would be softer, but we don't want to sit on the dirt, or the cement, or the cement that we use to cover the dirt, because both are too dirty.

Then I'm overwhelmed by frivolity, disappear into my headphones, and wonder if there could ever be a god in this kind of universe.

At least in a snowglobe I'd get to shake his ass up with me.

now revising "the gravedigger"
now writing "there's probably no god"
now reading blindness - jose saramago
now listening any motion - hyori ft. eric
i am at the metrosphere office, 313e, tivoli