Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him. A vapor, a drop of water suffices to kill him. But, if the universe were to crush him, man would still be more noble than that which killed him, because he knows that he dies and the advantage which the universe has over him, the universe knows nothing of this.
All our dignity then, consists in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us endavour then, to think well; this is the principle of morality.
Blaise Pascal Pensees 347
I dreamt that I caught a coach to leave london, but instead of heading north it headed south. We had been kidnapped by government agents, they were taking us to a secret lab where they would conduct sinister experiments on us. When we arrived I dived back into the coach and attempted to ram the barricades. Army squads appeared, shooting at me. I was hit. The scene blanked out and then restarted immediately – but i knew in another location, and some time later. Now i was restrained and those sinister government scientists approached with their sinister operating tools. The drilling begin and a sheet of blood feel over my vision. The scene blanked again and then, next, I knew that i was looking out of the eyes of the robot into which my brain at been inserted. The scientists were using my brain as the control system for an experimental bio-robot! I knew that i was condemned to look out of the eyes of the robot, as it roamed the world doing the sinister bidding of the sinister government. I was to commit horrors over which i would have no control, but which I would have to watch.
I think i need to stop reading so much Philip K Dick.
42 is not an anwser, it’s an error code. the universe is saying ‘Error 42: meaning to universe not found’
in the future,
we’ll not be sure which are stars
and which are searchlights on other planets
Unknown (to me) poet from last night’s spoken word antics
This is the World just before men. Too violently pitched alive in constant flow ever to be seen by men directly. They are meant only to look at it dead, in still strata, transputrefied to oil or coal. Alive it was a threat: it was Titans, was an overpeaking of life so clangorous and mad, such a green corona about Earth’s body that some spoiler had to be brought in before it blew the Creation apart. So we, crippled keepers, were sent out to multiply, to have dominion. God’s spoilers. Us. Counter-revolutionaries. It is our mission to promote death. The way we kill, the way we die, being unique among the Creatures. It was something we had to work on, historically and personally. To build from scratch up to its present status as reaction, nearly as strong as life, holding down the green uprising. But only nearly as strong.
Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow, p720