Still (sur)Rendering

All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
Previous Entry :: Next Entry

Read/Post Comments (0)
Share on Facebook


There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.

I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.


commencement

Book I -- The Very Most Beginningest of Beginnings

In the very most beginningest of beginnings, before there was Stuff, before there was even any Place to put stuff, there was the Potential for stuff.
And Pow, there was all kinds of stuff, flying out in all directions; and whoa, there were many directions to fly out in. And the stuff was different than the flying; and the stuff we call Stuff; and the flying we call Potential Energy.

And this was Different than it had been before; and the difference we call Time.

And there was no putting it back; and this was Heat; and the coming and going of heat was the Second Law of Thermodynamics; and it was pretty cool.

And the stuff roiled and became tangled, and it was not homogenous; and it became Turbulent, and the turbulence we call Chaos; and it was way cool.

And chaos did not speak; but it might as well have said, "Hey, if you want something interesting to happen, you're going to have to organize it yourself." And what-do-you-know; it was self-organizing.

And heat flowed through the semi-organized chaos, and parts of it became More Organized; and the more-organized parts we call Life; and the less-organized parts we call Other Stuff; and the really-not-so-organized parts we call Background Microwave Radiation; and it can be Measured.

And some of the more-organized stuff had a head, full of electrochemical soup; and we call this Self-Awareness; and it Hurts, but it's better than Nothing.

And the electrochemical soup was turbulent; and the turbulence was chaotic, and self-organizing; and it played Peek-a-Boo, then got tired of it; and it learned to Speak, and occasionally to Listen; and gee, there was music and poetry and symbolic logic.

And we called itself Me; and Hey You, No not You, the Other Guy; and Them.

And we looked around; and there were Billions of Us; and we were Lonely. So we did the Math; and a blind date seemed promising, so we looked to the sky; and we called it SETI.

And we Looked and Looked, for oh, I don't know, it seemed like Hours; and we Searched and Searched; a whole Scintilla of a Part of a Section of the sky that wasn't near the sun or a lot of static or something; and there was Nothing that we Recognized; and it was a bummer; and shit, there was no Funding.

And we knew Existential Emptiness, and Despair; and we cried out:
"Is this thing on? Hello?"

So we sent out E-Mail; and we said, "Why Don't you Write?"

And we waited. And that was the morning and the evening of the Thursday.

From the Not-Actually-Dead-but-Really-Sleepy Sea Scrolls, found at Seadic/Sedicrun/Rundicrun, translation by Steven Gulie


© 2004 Steven Gulie


found here



soundtrack:


Read/Post Comments (0)

Previous Entry :: Next Entry

Back to Top

Powered by JournalScape © 2001-2010 JournalScape.com. All rights reserved.
All content rights reserved by the author.
custsupport@journalscape.com