Tuesday, August 23, 2005
The Milky Way.
I know it's a huge, stupid cliche, but looking at shots of outer space reinforces how silly all of this is. We worry about every little thing when we're half of a blink and no greater force gives a shit about us. We're a speck on a spiral galaxy arm orbiting an enormous black hole. And that galaxy is one of so many of them that we can't even conceptualize the number. The universe goes on and on and on. And in the end, long after our own Sun has burnt out, it'll spread so far apart that everything freezes and life becomes impossible.
I keep dreaming about all of the horrible things that happen to little planets like ours. Comet strikes, gamma ray bursts, black holes, and on and on. The dinosaurs didn't see it coming. We might not either when the burst from a Supernova somewhere else in the galaxy happens upon our unfortunate planet, igniting the atmosphere and broiling us all to death. It's all random and out of our control.
So what we have is this. Not some elusive dream you have about thirty years from now. Not some illusory state of perfection you think you had ten years back. Not a happy world that you're supposed to suffer through your life waiting for. All I have is a book, a bottle of cheap vodka, mountains of research to be done, a hard drive waiting for me to put whatever I write or sequence on it, and whatever I want to do with myself right now.
I'll take a vodka.
edit: Here's a pretty good explanation of our galaxy. Jesus.