Post #13 - Dead Man Sitting Duck

If I live ’til I am about 75 years old, then there are roughly 15,800 days to go before I am dead. That doesn’t seem like so many days to fill up with useless stuff, I guess.

There is ultimately no point that can be reasonably given regarding doing anything in particular in this life. If one finally owns that beautiful thing to display in their parlour - well, what of it? In a few years, they’re dead and can never, ever admire it again; a whole eternity without it and so the point is so infinitesimally titchy as to equal practically none at all and so there really is no point whatsoever. If you struggle to make that movie or write that book or visit that country or whatever, before you know it it no longer exists, and does so forever. All we are actually doing is just killing time before we die. That's the way it is for businesspersons and hoboes alike. Obviously, one would prefer that time be painless rather than painful but I’ve tried that and it doesn’t seem to work for me. It works temporarily, to an extent, I suppose, but whoopdy-doop, right? Of course, there could be a reason for the way things are but that we just don’t know what it is, and yet that doesn’t ‘cut it’ for me. Maybes and maynotbes cancel each other out for scrutiny and so we are left with what equates to pointlessness. It’s really quite funny; and very tragic, of course. But what can you do? Ultimately, nothing. That’s what we’re all being forced to do in a mere smattering of days’ time and as that time is so infinitesimally titchy as to equal practically none at all, there really is no time whatsoever. All we have is nothing at all. Ha! – quite funny; and very tragic, of course.

…Well, that’s one way of looking at things. There are others, of course – all equally meaningless, I suppose.

Anyway, I hope you have a relatively painless day,

S. Gregory.

P.S.: Incidentally, this is a record, however uninteresting or interesting, merely of my thoughts during a depressed state.