Which Is Rebuttals and Concessions

06/10/2008 6:42 AM – 7:04 AM

Flour, sugar, egg, butter, milk, baking soda – but you can’t unbake the cake. Only form, feelings, perceptions, impulses/actions, consciousness – but still the self remains. The heaps are still one, even when composed of many.

If a negation of perspective will attain peace, so be it, but then we’ve relegated the discussion to fantasy card games, which deck will win out? Up then, up the rabbit-hole down. I am not, and them I am. The mere probabilities coalesce and the me myself emerges, dripping pristine lightning-struck sea-slime. To stop the eye from staring at itself does not change the solid that it can. To stop the eye from staring at itself though, lets it forget its parting.

What dreams? What dreams? What dreams? I was right before. Options one through three: meh, all things considered, tha’d be fine. Option four, right out. So, to live, undead, the eye turns outward, blinks and builds a fire. It doesn’t have to be the best fire. Just the most complicated, most interesting, longest to make. Poof! Light it up and dance as it burns down. Sleep. Wake up. Build the fire again. Sisyphus did not know. Sisyphus did know. Sisyphus learned to like it and the gods were stymied by our accidental eye’s arising. They will have me in the end and call me to account. To them, perhaps, the choice was clear. Down here, all you metaphysics look the same. Fuck ‘em. I’ll believe in Santa Claus and the pink dragon tea-cup orbiting the moon. Presents in shiny paper, everyone’s invited, you’ll never get bored and it won’t cost you a dime. But please, please, kindly Babies, down here just don't be an asshole: pay your fines - we both know you returned those books late.