The solar system stands still, the Gods listen

My favorite rapper died, and I only realized he was my favorite when he did. Furthermore, there is a white cat stalking through the grass field behind my humble abode, he has been doing so for weeks, and I don’t think he understands that he stands out quite a bit against the summer-green vegetation. So, useless vestigialisms, the both of them? I would beg to differ. This is what we are, and this is where we are. Why would we want it to be any other way? This obviously is the will of the universe. Like when I beat you, as I must, that is what the universe wanted, and since we are both subsets of the universe, you must have wanted it too in the end. Just as I will will my own demise, eventually. As another rapper once said: “I’ma repent one day, just not right now. You hear my shit all in the street, I’m kinda hot right now.” That thought cracks me up quite a bit.
Evidently, I’ve been gone for a while, and as someone once told me, writing’s a muscle. Lazy as my genes force me to be, I’ve been skimping on exercise, in more than one sense. My belly is starting to show. Someone else once told me, the belly is why it’s hard to see the Godly inside oneself. I guess I’m not that fast in the head, because it was only after growing it that the quote really resonated with me, beyond the initial chuckle. Story of my life. I could’ve been smiting bitches with these Hammers of Thor casually sticking out of my back pockets way earlier in life. Yet I opted to be respectful. What a farce. That’s what duhmocracy does to a good brain, I guess. “Aber wer davon kommt, ist stark wie der Teufel”.
So, what have I been doing during my absence, you might ask? Let me just say that I’m on an expedition through the wonderful world of buying things and selling them for more. I’ve decided to get rich, so I might still interact meaningfully with some or such sovereign. Survive, or profit from, the coming collapse of the fiat madness. And build a couple of great games. Write a couple of things to last through the ages. Send my daughter to a real university (do those exist in the world, still?). Beat a couple of suckers senseless. Do a couple more awesome things and not die while doing it. It’s providence, really. If not, dying’s ok too. It’s only right to die when everything finally clicks. After it all clicks, the rest is just doing it anyway.
A familiar problem I’m running into is, when you’re focused like this, all other things become more small and soundless. People move their mouths, but their little words don’t really register. The pen calls, as does the gym, but the impulse isn’t stronger than just banging out some more work. It’s a strength and a weakness at the same time. This is the one thing I would like to consult someone who knows what I’m talking about about. But who?
Suddenly, the realization that I haven’t had friends for give or take seven years dawns on me. Maybe it’s time to find some? What does one even do with friends but waste time? I think I might’ve kind of lost that skill (not wasting time per se, mind you). Guess a real friend would be someone to help me find something I’ve lost, then? Maybe he would indulge me and read this little spontaneous diary piece which might not mean much to most, which might seem worthless on the surface, even. However, when some people create and resonate, even deities sit up and take notice. Because these stories are why they spun up our world in the first place. To see us revel in conflict and adversity, as they surely must themselves. And so, a meaningful inflection point has now been passed. That is all.

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