Perspective

It's very strange, the world. In how it responds elastically to your inputs and provides you the image of exactly what you want from it. There are infinitely many gradations within which it can be queried and it distills itself into murky brown shades of prejudices and preconceptions. It can be analyzed with great care and dexterity or it can just be left alone merely taken for the ride. And it's amazing that it will tell you what you want to hear. There appears to be a fractured narrative, one which is made of very dissonant parts whose edges don't quite match up and there are broken shards of non explanations on the ground. And the mind flies from one part to another and completely forgets where it had been or how it has come to where it is and becomes very unsure of where the next stop. And it thinks in bare gasps of half remembered states and tries to put it all together and looks around and sees that it doesn't seem to matter at all. There are jobs to be done and money to be spent and politics to be cared for and sports team to be mad about, dresses to buy, children to bring up for another cycle, decide again, for one last time where one stands on issues of all sorts. There's the cacophony of the unbearably shrill voice of accumulated custom and then there is the world beneath the toes of the self, unopened oysters and unique snowflakes sort of deal. And there's the immense cycle which continues unhindered and repeats itself nauseatingly ad-infinitum and everyone has essentially the same issues that everyone else has and yet they are always unique in someone's eyes. And one can intellectualize these and feel superior and useless at the same time and one can intellectualize the process of intellectualization and come to the conclusion as to how confusing it all is. And then some schmuck comes along and wonders with a chuckle as to why bother. Why indeed, but for a second one sees, with more clarity than ever, distilled in a persona is the whole incredible reason, the immense machinery which is puffing and grinding and belching dark ominous smoke as the wheels of life grind along and take another turn exactly the same as the previous one. It's a vast universe out there where there existed a galaxy far far way, bigger than the one we live in with billions and billions of stars just like ours, and it just vanished into nothingness and nobody heard a thing. One can look from a vantage point and see the immensely mundane homogeneity where unnamed and unrecognized faces move about until they stop or one can appreciate the tumultuous storm that is each one of them. Sort of like UGK and Chekhov I suppose.