Nowhere beginnings

Winkle. Cross. Winkle winkle winkle. Cross. Double cross. Check. AOk. Good to go.

We start from where we last left. Namely, nowhere. We began nowhere, and we ended where we began.

It's not a bad thing, or a good thing. It just is. Like that. Without any meaning or point. Open to judgment but without really caring.

The Tralfamadorians don't care. They live in four dimensions-- at each point in their lives, they are aware of everything else that has happened to them in every other point of their lives. They are aware about the exact nature and cause of their death, and they cannot do anything about it. They are, like some gods, mere spectators. They can, however, choose to relive the best moments of their lives over and over again. And that's what they do. Smarter Tralfamadorians will relive the bad moments of their lives often, to 'learn' from their mistakes, but the joke's on them because there's nothing they can do. There life just is. To see. To experience. Not to be lived.

They have seen the end of the Universe, those Tralfamadorians. One of their experimental pilot pushes a button he shouldn't have and PUFF! the Universe ends. They don't think too much about it, though. They try to live and relive the moments.

Their lives start from nowhere, and end nowhere, and it's all of no concern to them. They're just interested in those parts where they actually live. It's a hard job living, knowing that you can't really live. You can see life, you can experience it--but you can't live life. That's not possible, according to the laws of the universe. No one's been able to break that one law. Everything else will bend, but not this one.

I am not one of those freaks. I care. A little bit. About where I started from, and where I am going. It's not terribly important stuff, but it's something to keep you occupied while all the interesting things are happening to people around you. It's shit, no doubt, but also shit that matters. And that is what matters.

People are high. Heads are spinning. Hearts are beating. Leaves are smoking, and the visitors are turning away. It's getting late, and the police could raid. But it doesn't matter anymore. Because choices have been made, and there is absolutely no sonofabitch that can say no to her, so I don't have too many options.

But yeah, life. I think it's an interesting proposition.