Hmm...

The sound coming through the wall sounded distressed. Perhaps it’s owner was not being kind to it. That, the temperature (cool heading on cold with a promise of moisture and an oppressive front of harsh, white light) and Graham’s (Ethel’s) own biology had him (her) sitting on the bathroom tiles, also distressed. Many people would think it great to able to experience the effect of being on drugs with-out the hassle of procuring, ingesting and suffering side effects of same, but not Graham (Ethel). He (she) rather tended to focus on the facet that left him (her) unable to not feel as if he (she) was popping through the door in the neural attic; the fact that he (she) was here, strung out on the bathroom floor on a Friday night, freaked out by (the very interesting, nice) noise (that would undoubtedly be kind to him ((her)) later) after the trip that never was. Joy, rapture, angels take him (her) away (after first spontaneously popping into existence, of course). (Are these brackets starting to annoy you? You could always paste the file into a text editor and remove them). (Pay no attention to my misery. Go right ahead).

(Okay, fine, be like that. I’m not writing any more).

Why?

It's the question we've been asking for some time now; I personally am convinced that Nietzsche hit upon the answer, namely, whatever we make of it. You may be convinced otherwise; this is important; what is, is defined by two factors; physical being, and what we imagine. Mostly, what we imagine is fairly seriously constained by our upbringing.

I'm very lucky; my upbringing has both been very loving and very challenging on the ego; I am prepared for the total perspective vortex; I am pointless and irrelevent, and so what.

What's important, exactly? Nothing lasts. So what? Intrisic value; huh? What am I even pointless and irrelevant to?

Except for your opinion, what frame of reference is there?

This question is often fobbed off with procreation; procreation creates a new responsibilty which makes ego a selfish luxury no longer worthy of adult consideration; but this is merely passing the buck to the procreated, who may then choose to ignore the question in a similiar fashion; it's not an answer, it's an excuse for no longer asking the question.

Socrates's great discovery was that; wisdom is the knowledge that we know nothing. This is still true; one may believe in many things, for example, science, a god, evolution, space, geometry; whatever; you are still taking some-one's word for it; even if you think you have direct access to primary data, trusting that data is an act of faith in the acquisition of that data; Descartes great discovery. We have a dubious reasoning facility attempting to cope with dubious data; it's no wonder that we can't agree on anything.

Professionally tired.

We have an evening shift in work at the moment, which is providing me with a tantalizing reminder of what it was like when I wasn't tired all of the time, as it means a six hour working day instead of eight, and, better yet, not having to get up at five in the morning. Getting up at five probably doesn't represent a challenge for those who can fall asleep on cue. I'm a totally different person at the moment, with energy and enthusiasm. I suspect that I'm also doing the job better. It's a pity that it's only temporary.

I read (coincidentally) in the paper that a shoe factory that introduced shift work, with six hour shifts instead of eight, found that sick leave fell from 17% to 4%. There is something wrong when sick leave is at 17%. What must it be like for workers in China, with twelve hour shifts. I want Fair Trade marks on everything, not just my chocolate and bananas, work should not deprive one of a life.