The first problem area concerns time. Time infiltrates everything, and exercises an absurd amount of control over our actions... And yet, why must the 'clock on the wall' be our universally objective marker of reality? Why do we have to succumb to this madness?
This is just the start...and yet I apologise for the brevity of this note...I fear that the ironic truth of the situation is that I am running out of time. There was once a moment, not too long ago, where I found myself scribbling the following sentence on a scrap of paper;
"Time ye arrant knave! Yank on those leather-bound reigns and steer thy light-winged chariot to the ground!"
Yet now I realise that I was merely trying, in desperation to convince myself that I wanted the passage of time to cease...or slow down a little... Whereas it was merely one half of an inescabable paradox - I do not want time to slow down, for if it did, these moments which I wish to hold on to would lose their beauty, their urgency, their importance.
Similarly, as I sit at my desk now...procrastinating much of my life away, I gradually accept the fact that my pointless actions are deliberate and...are thus, - quite unfortunate. There is a pressing need as I write this, to leap forth and actually finish that which I have not yet started but..(I ask the wall in front of me) why, in heavens name would I want to do that?
I conclude with this... - Life is an ugly business...and yet we live for it.
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