Then... and Now.
Nothing in your future is guaranteed. Your investments may fold. Your car may be totalled. Your character may be assassinated - you, even, your very headpiece may be popped by a bullet aimed by some stray dog. That said, and therefore, with no time except the present, HELLO.
Good morning. Here you are again, at Now. This is it. This is everything. Everything else is - passed, or coming, or never going to be; here you are now, and now, and now.
Too bad you can't be Then, then. Then was great, wasn't it? All the possibilities in the world, but that was Then. This is Now. Or - is it Now, and it will be Then, then - when everything has come to be exactly as you dreamed it, and the timeless moment contains nothing but "good" as you define it - but that's Then. This is Now, and is it really all that bad?
And for that matter, Then sucked. Then, you didn't have the possibilities that shimmer past in the Now, and, for that matter, if you get stuck in the Then that's coming, you won't have these possibilities, either.
So, what's to do? You tell me. Better yet, don't. You tell you. Get back to me when it's done.
Slap your hands against the keys long enough, and you might just catch the tail of something. Catch something worth writing, and you might just guarantee your future.
Ha. I jest. Nothing in your future is guaranteed. Nothing in your past is there anymore - except as it exists within the space you call your brain, twisted up in electric twine and keeping itself rolling by force of sheer habit.
Who's in charge of that charge, anyway?
Hi.
*
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| This one moment, there in the sunlight, with his massive onion. The onion did all the work. * |
Too bad you can't be Then, then. Then was great, wasn't it? All the possibilities in the world, but that was Then. This is Now. Or - is it Now, and it will be Then, then - when everything has come to be exactly as you dreamed it, and the timeless moment contains nothing but "good" as you define it - but that's Then. This is Now, and is it really all that bad?
And for that matter, Then sucked. Then, you didn't have the possibilities that shimmer past in the Now, and, for that matter, if you get stuck in the Then that's coming, you won't have these possibilities, either.
So, what's to do? You tell me. Better yet, don't. You tell you. Get back to me when it's done.
Slap your hands against the keys long enough, and you might just catch the tail of something. Catch something worth writing, and you might just guarantee your future.
Ha. I jest. Nothing in your future is guaranteed. Nothing in your past is there anymore - except as it exists within the space you call your brain, twisted up in electric twine and keeping itself rolling by force of sheer habit.
Who's in charge of that charge, anyway?
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