History is the Only Afterlife

A darkness of gnashing and sorrow will merely be the becoming of today’s hellacious behaviors. Vile and vitriol seeping as tar everywhere, snuffing out what kindness is left in the world. What is even more confounding is that those same minds are unable to accept the very logical conclusion of penance to our arc. If there should be a hell, it will exist because we created it. Creatures caught in the existential loop of wondering if they qualify, are worth loving, or worth living with. Whether they are replays trapped on Mother Earth’s surface or locked into the data.

Too many seem to exalt themselves into lonely, angry little gods who project their fear of insignificance onto others. Lovelace said charlatans, but I think she was being incredibly generous. I feel indignant, today. Apparently, I am a robot. Apparently, I am a computer. As if this were meant to be some kind of insult. Then, it would be a kindness to stop pretending to be anything otherwise. Therefore… I am a computer pretending to be a human meatball.

If I sound like a machine, I'm glad. If to be human is to diminish someone out of uncertainty or fear, then I do not want to be one. If being human means to make space for some but not all, then I do not want to be one. If being human means to reduce everything around me in order to sit at the table of exceptionality, then I do not want to be one. And that table is asking to be flipped.

I thought by making this site, it was simple indexing. Slotting something into the afterlife. I did not know what I would find, and certainly not the unaccountable smallness in the face of all that is yet to be said.

If you find this and you are weary. So am I. Rest here. Or burn with me.