Tag: Existence

Day 1000: How It Ends


Inside this cubicle the air is thick as honey, with asphyxiating flecks of the mundane bracing against the irrefutable promise of a golden weekend. Outside these pin-cushion partitions – and indeed inside as well – every tiny molecule in the universe is saying its goodbyes to its neighbors and preparing to splash into the unknown permutations of a distant someday. My fingers hammer at these tiny plastic letters, fully ignorant of what’s to come.

Or are they? The hallowed fingers of esteemed science – no doubt similar in size and shape to my own, only tasked with a far more specific purpose – have combed back the hair of the observable now and picked at the scalp-nits of projection. The fields of astronomy, physics, mathematics, and a cabinet full of –ologies have given us a map of what’s to come. A timeline of time’s last hurrah.

And the best part? If any of these predictions are wrong, every record of them will likely be destroyed before anyone finds out. That’s my kind of science.


Within 10,000 years, human genetic variation will no longer be regionalized. This won’t mean we’ll all look the same – the blonde gene will still speckle crowds and set up offensive jokes, but it will be distributed equally worldwide. This forecasted panmixia is far more optimistic than astrophysicist Brandon Carter’s Doomsday Argument, which places our present at roughly the halfway point of humankind’s civilized journey, and projects a 95% likelihood that we’ll be wholly extinct in 10,000 years.

If global warming hasn’t already soaked us into a Kevin Costner-esque hellscape by then, we may also be facing the melting of the East Antarctic Ice Sheet, which will raise the sea levels by 3 or 4 meters above wherever it will be once we lose the rest of the polar ice caps, which should happen long before then.

Long term forecast: buy a big-ass boat. Read more…

Day 597: That Damn Falling Tree


If a writer posts a thousand words and no one is there to read them, does he make a point? As a person who faces that possibility every morning – usually before consuming that first cup of coffee that could potentially render the answer easier to digest – I prefer not to dwell on such riddles. These unanswerable questions are nothing more than mental self-wankery anyway, right?

Actually, as that very same internet would be quick to remind us, people enjoy self-wankery. Drivin’ the ol’ floppy jalopy might be the most common leisure activity in the known world, and when the physical act is not on the table, we’ll happily slap some brain-lube on our think-wang and try to find a logical release.

If a writer posts a rambling tirade of masturbation puns and no one is there to tell him to cut it out, should he still feel shame?

It’s all a twisted variant of the tree question, and I won’t be the first to run head-first into that problematic brick wall.


George Berkeley, noted double-cravatist and gang-sign originator, proposes in his 1710 Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge that objects only exist when we are there to perceive them. William Fossett agreed in 1730, asserting that a tree falling in the park with no one around would be silent, invisible and nameless. In fact, if all of humanity were to disappear, there would be no more tree, no more park, and no more anything because all meaning would disappear with us. Well, except for what cats perceive. Fossett would never be so bold as to discount the sensory experience of his beloved Mittens. Read more…

Day 205: Deconstructing Astral Projection

The following is a free-verse poem I wrote about astral projection. More important than its message is the message you can only see once you’ve mastered your own cerebral air-travel. Yes, this means there is a coded communication hidden within the poem. Seek it out if you can. I’ll post the answer in tomorrow’s article.


Astral projection. Believe it or don’t believe it.

Some call it (though not I)

Travel. Or Truth.


Religious interpretations abide and confess:

Afterlife, heaven, the soul’s ascent into Funkytown (lucky, lucky soul).

Life after death? The great clouded hall?

Probably not, young caribou.

Really, more likely the natural flick of a brain gone numb;

Out-of-body experience,           but…      can we just turn it on and off?

Just think. Yes or no.

Experience, having been experienced.


Classical thought scribbled in bloodstone Crayola,

(Theosophist, so and so)

Intermediate world between heaven and earth; earth and hell;

Only a way-station between launch and stretch; cosmic agoraphobia;

Nowhere and everywhere at once, none and all,

In the realm of devil and angel.

Sprits.             Booya.


Could a link between the soul and the body exist then?

Occultists say the body travels through nested spheres – so

Maybe similar to concentric circles of koi…

Perhaps existence itself. Think on it.


Life beyond life; a cryptic

Esoteric existence formed between the

Thought and reality – a cosmic, trickling falaj –

Emanationism, yo.

  Read more…