Filed under: Philosophy
A question came up the other day, during one of those moments of exacting pretension, a situation so mundane save the question it produced. Before explaining the question, let me contemplate the events of the last few days. The closest analogy (for the imagistic out there) would be repeated bursts of extremely loud rattling of the psychic cage with variable length times of peaceful occupation and ready essentials. Caught up between the need for extreme secrecy to hide the oscillations of excitement and the realization that assigning value to something fluid is as much use as pissing upwind.
Always being ready to capture the scenario most befitting a scoundrel is one of my more attractive qualities. Not to brag, but my longstanding addiction to irony has produced some interesting rationalizations, it is amazing my values haven’t been totally corrupted. Such is the transition that never ends, constant modification to the theories laid down to save us from thinking too much. Excitement and adventure, palm trees in arctic lands, that kind of thing. Admittedly, getting to this locale requires as much thought and learning as anything else. It makes me laugh at the worst moments of sadness and fear, though it takes a terrible toll on my ability to get off on the concept of utopia. A fair trade, there’s so much else out there to get off on anyway.
So, the question… A condensed version would be something like “Why does it matter?” I usually rant and rave about context and specialization, but for the moment, forget all those distractions and focus on the question at hand in all of it’s glory. There are millions of answers, the entire range of reflections aimed squarely at the asshole who posed such a question at a time like this. Left unsaid is any comment on the reason to pose such an insulting question without giving it limits to protect us from letting our eyes drift from the prize. Some saw it as a threat, others a warning. Some angrily posted theories excoriating anyone who offered any answer deemed sufficiently materialistic. I myself changed answers like a raving maniac, listing reasons ranging from sarcastic all the way to obscene, then was denied entry into the meeting of the community leaders assembled to comb the wisdom of the ages.
The speed of the whole thing was what caught me off guard. Even as we wait patiently for solid evidence demanded in perpetuity, we fail to consider where the walls are built, losing the chance at expansion. The artificial articulation of merit was probably an evolutionary necessity, for without it self awareness overrules short term structuralism. This invalidates answering the question by reformulating it to ask the obvious follow up, “Why doesn’t it matter?”
So, being fucked on about four fronts, philosophy seemed to be a bad response. History was equally problematic, for every turn counsels caution due to the unknown, and that barely makes any sense because we (as a group) don’t yet know what that means. Check back later. I will most likely still not know, but we can entertain each other with stories and carefree moments of catastrophe dug out of the corners of the couch. But I digress.
Short and fast seems the only response which leaves me still sane and happy amongst the distractions and ruthlessness of those seeking to obviate the few things worth worrying about. When the glare gets in the way, or something blocks the path, I almost always choose a cigarette as my weapon of choice, though the argument of physiological damage is of course ever present. That aside, the son of a bitch in me just wants a moment longer to think, the tactic of delay being favorable when compared to a forward attack. There is almost no way that a solution will elude us forever, it’s all been thought out and prepared. For now, leave it where it dies, but don’t let it bleed out on the carpet. The carpet is already stained enough.
Time for a formal goodbye, though hopefully shorter than the last time. There can be enough time for everything in life, but hours look so short compared to years and decades. There may not be any reliable way to measure forward, but it is in the unknown that value is realized, and converted into moments and experiences then tagged as knowledge and discovery. It can be a reason not to remember the first as much as the fact that for a moment sparks illuminated something just outside our sphere of influence. Beauty, luxury, the ease of the inexorable march towards whatever comes next arounf the corner.
The mind builds houses of perception that crumble when the unexpected rearranges the limits between known and unknown, but from there, it gets really fucking complicated. As always, hope for us all, whatever the fuck that means. Hey, remember that guy who was rearranging all the deck chairs on the Titanic into neat little lines? I heard he put the lines up his nose right before he jumped into the North Atlantic. Lucky for him, they say the cold clears the sinuses better than anything else. Resist the urge to laugh, it could have been a relative for all we know! That’s no way to leave, but no way to stay either. Clear out the words, make room for the music…for now.
Back for more later when the time and circumstances meet up again.
“Oh she won’t take the train,
no she won’t take that train…”
Rules are for people who don’t have the time to notice beauty. Fucking A, is that us?
