Today someone asked me "where do you start and where do you end?"
How big am I? How old am I? Am I really only fifty-five kilograms?
I wasn't always this heavy.
I wasn't always this light.
But I always was, regardless of my dimensions. How old will I get before all traces of my existence are smudged into the surface texture of the universe? How soft is the transition? Aren't I really just the concentrated mass of the sexual prowess of my predecessors? Didn't I start whenever it was that whoever they were first fucked?
Just exactly who am I? How many pieces of me are there? Am I like potassium - present in different places at the same time? Where have my words, ideas, opinions already gone? What am I doing there? Having a holiday?
How much of me is there to go around? Am I a finite resource like this body? Or am I infinite like the architecture of thought? How many questions can I fit into my lifetime? Is that a sadistic question?
How am I going to get around? Should I be a teacher or a carpenter? A potter? An illustrator? Am I going to be generous? Considerate? Passionate? Compassionate?
How fast do I go? How fast should I go? Isn't it nonsensical to rage through life at break-neck speed? Isn't it best to live slowly? Won't time seem longer? Won't life seem longer?
Why aren't I tired?
How big am I? How old am I? Am I really only fifty-five kilograms?
I wasn't always this heavy.
I wasn't always this light.
But I always was, regardless of my dimensions. How old will I get before all traces of my existence are smudged into the surface texture of the universe? How soft is the transition? Aren't I really just the concentrated mass of the sexual prowess of my predecessors? Didn't I start whenever it was that whoever they were first fucked?
Just exactly who am I? How many pieces of me are there? Am I like potassium - present in different places at the same time? Where have my words, ideas, opinions already gone? What am I doing there? Having a holiday?
How much of me is there to go around? Am I a finite resource like this body? Or am I infinite like the architecture of thought? How many questions can I fit into my lifetime? Is that a sadistic question?
How am I going to get around? Should I be a teacher or a carpenter? A potter? An illustrator? Am I going to be generous? Considerate? Passionate? Compassionate?
How fast do I go? How fast should I go? Isn't it nonsensical to rage through life at break-neck speed? Isn't it best to live slowly? Won't time seem longer? Won't life seem longer?
Why aren't I tired?
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