End of the Day

i like being the last per­son in a build­ing at the end of the day. i get a feel­ing of mys­te­ri­ous impor­tance, as if i were respon­si­ble for main­tain­ing and con­trol­ling some sort of secret pow­er­ful project. or, as my feet echo through the hall­ways, i become an inter­lop­er, dis­cov­er­ing and won­der­ing at the sto­ries held with­in and expressed by the worn and nicked pres­ence of the build­ing itself. all is qui­et and onl my pres­ence gives life and mean­ing to this place. although i am alone, i am at the same time com­fort­ed by the knowl­edge that we have been before, in this space, and my pres­ence makes those mem­o­ries con­tin­ue. every­thing in this place belongs to me by default as a rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Those Who Came Before.

this does not fol­low me out­side.

even alone in the night, i am sur­round­ed by the exis­tence of all and my diminu­tion in the face of the uni­verse is com­fort­ing rather than alien­at­ing. i am of its sub­stance and there­fore a part of it, some­thing which can nev­er be tak­en from me. for even when i cease, i will still be part of It. it reminds me of two dis­tinct things. 1) the Total Per­spec­tive Dri­ve from Dou­glas Adams’ Hitchik­er series, in which the per­son sub­ject­ed to it is shown their impor­tance com­pared to that of the rest of the uni­verse. It is meant to destroy that person’s self esteem when they see that they are noth­ing but a tiny dot among infin­i­ty. 2) the Bha­gavad-Gita and Krishna’s dis­cus­sion with Arju­na about how all is con­tained with­in Brah­ma. So if i’m that small com­pared to every­thing else, but still Am, then that makes me feel warm and fuzzy because i’m impor­tant enough to exists among all that is out there.

for some rea­son this reminds me, NeaL, i believe you still have some books of mine…if you don’t return them you will “nev­er leave these woods…alive…”

lat­est search string: ‘con­dom filled with water ass’

two the two ran­dom folks who said howdy over IM last night, i return the salu­ta­tions. but why, per­chance, did you not leave com­ment? 🙂