This is where the creator would ordinarily tell yo that this whole thing.. is their passion-stupid-mistaken-project. But I’m not the creator of the world but I’m partially responsible for the whole damn thing like the rest of us.
What is my purpose? Then why me? Kicks me every time I think of space n time. Based on anyone's observations that galaxies appear to be flying apart from one another, suggesting that the universe is expanding. We trace this movement back with 'em to nearly the original point of the explosion, the single original atom from which all the universe emerged 14 billion years ago. I take from what I see around me n suppose that the universe is governed by the same processes. I born in a sack of water and of course all sorts of things emerge from the sea. The sea is formless and dark and mysterious and hence an excellent symbol for the conditions that logic tells me must have existed before creation. But look at me, I look to the shapeless, formless sky for my creation story, n not the sea. It's quite confusing n it expands as well. Ha-ha;
I think the world is much more aware of how fragile things are than I thought. It seems like every second I am presented with a new possible apocalypse. If it's not bird flu, it's the meteor I didn't see coming. If it's not the meteor I didn't see coming, then it's global warming. When there are broad fears, when there are broad shared anxieties, fiction almost always swoops in to explore the situation n to give people a safe playground to examine their feelings about those threats n later discuss facts that concern destruction. Well what can I say? What a big-stupid-monkey, humans are!
Science fiction explores the vast territory of what I could become. Whereas fantasy is great at exploring my inner territory n physiological territory. I find that an utterly baffling point of view, which doesn't seem to have any connection with the world that I live in n want to live in. But did I forget that I'm no creator? And there can be one or may be one? It all makes no sense whe everything that happened, happening,happens is a part of the play. Like a movie it goes on. I'm just excited about the climax.
In the play I see people with career n fame n everything possible. People who looks for a life or smthng that has one. Artists n audience. All of them are packed with caring ideas like passion, career, status but everyone loses it al about environmental change, about the social contract, about the way technology can deform the human soul. I dunno why we could have those things but would want less.
Speaking of I, I mean every damn living human. Who loves n leads a good life or the one who hates n kills wife. The one who prays or the one who laughs. I dunno if I can name all the professionals n the occupation from a-z. Lets put our head out real loud n rise the tallest finger saluting the very us. For evrything we have achieved. For the people who are the people's people in the people from schools who learns n makes a lot of entertainment, fails to perform then sneaks into business then killing it with Industrials n manufacturing which access the greed into Law Enforcement demanding the need for Science n Technology who wakes n bakes war n claims them for armed forces. Screaming we gotta protect ourselves from ourselves i.e., terrorists, psychos, rapists n all them us. Making us. Building us. Teaching us Then fighting us. So in short, US are so screwed!
I salute yo, myself n fellow humans with the one finger I was talking about.