Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 5:12 PM /


Somebody once said that everybody has a story within him/her. Actually, a lot of people once (twice, thrice,,,) said a lot of things to a whole lot of other people, that they never paid attention to, went in through one ear and out through the other, in the typical way it does when you don't particularly think that the other person deserves any special merit.

Therein dies the saviour of the universe each day, each moment of each day.

People supporting capital punishment are often countered by pacifist idealogoues that sanctify life. Communist manifestos find little space in a world that demonstates so emphatically the supremacy of Darwinian law, and then the manifestations wonder why, why why, why.

I could tell you why, says the bird atop the highest tree of the world, but she doesn't really care either. It's a strange mystery she sees repeated again and again before her, as if for her benefit, a strange and wonderful play that she rejoices in, claps her wings for, preeens herself during the interval, takes successive lovers to the matinee shows with, fans herself in emotion. Yes, I could tell you why, says the magpie, but then, what would I get out of it, and she scoops the diamond of your tale in her beak, and flies away. She's seen all of this before, she reasons, another chase will start, o, the swords and slingshots of outrageous fortune, but then, how else will she manage to accumulate her treaaure trove?

Therein is born the great saviour of the universe each day, each moment of each day, for everybody knows that the greatest thief is the greatest innovator.


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