wunderground says it's 71F in the Mission but I'm still in two fleece sweatshirts and long underwear in my room. it got cold last night and the sun has not really warmed up the house particularly today. I can see without even looking directly out the window that the angle of light is changing to the low-slung scatter of winter, which normally I love for the way it brings out objects in sharp relief, but for some reason I feel like everything is going to stop soon.
every generation thinks it's going to be the last; there are few historical writers who haven't written at a "turning point" or "crisis," at least in the Western canon. I think that our anxiety about death subsumes us as individuals and we start to see the end of the universe as a universal rule rather than a personal event that will/won't happen to each one of us eventually. any single death is the death of a universe but it is also the return of the universe to itself from a momentary split that was never complete to begin with.
what's depressing is when it seems that all around me are people cheering for the universal end to all universes, as though our collective passion for release from our not-quite-individuated positions could become the source of a collective action. I do not always believe that reflective consciousness having come to know of its own eventual end has been a good evolutionary turn. does intelligent life blot itself out over and over? what if evolutionary forces never get past this bottleneck?
maybe it's always been this way but somehow the brink never gets crossed. people dance with oblivion thinking that it holds paradise on the other side because they've been told this by those who cannot honestly look oblivion in the face that it does not have and then turn back around to realize that we are not a cosmic chess game acting out any predetermined drama but that we have our fate in our own hands and it takes only a slight shift of perspective to shake off the twin demons of denial and worship of death. they are not opposites as one might suppose or not in the Western sense of opposition. they fuel one another and make it possible to build war machines which themselves hold delusions of immortality.
you know? you see?
I need the blue angels to go away. now. speed, power and grace are one thing but the belief that death can bring eternal glory is all I can hear in the subsonic rumble as it crashes through my walls and ceiling. they'd sacrifice all of us for their own eternal life, you know. every single one of us.