Have Some Fun

It’s later than you think. Soon you will die, oh so soon. It’s just a matter of years. Those little short years, you’ve surely noticed how fast they go? So have some fun, live it full, tell your love that you are hers, or his, as the case may be. Fill your cup to the brim, because it may be your last.
We all have to go some time. A man I know is about to go. He ain’t all that old, but hell, cancer sits in ’im, and he has to go. He’s not the first I’ve seen go. Good people… they go just as fast as the bad, if not faster. Will I be there, at the burial? No, but I’ll honor him in any case, in my way.
So, you get older, and you notice how people die. People you know. Whether it’s the people you look up to, the mentors, or people you got to know in passing… they all go. A few of them are left, and at some point you start to wonder when you are next, when you are the one they knew who went down.
That’s life. That’s normal. Life is death is life is death… and we are all made of stardust. There is no life that wasn’t made of death. The atoms of which you are made are recycled. Nature doesn’t waste a single fucking one of them. You are a mouse, a stone, a star, a bloody fucking porcupine. A part of you is a bird, that flew so far and wide. A part of you is lava, that was thrown so high… perhaps, at one point, you traveled, as a little stone, from deep in the earth, over thousands of years, to the surface of this beautiful planet. Or you were the stratosphere. You were air. Does it matter?
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So there is nothing to complain about. You will die, as you have died before, a thousand times, in one form or another, whether you were inanimate or not. This is not religion, you little fuck, this is nature. The atoms you are made of are (nearly) indestructible. And, even if I could destroy the atoms you are made of, the atoms are made of something else, smaller yet, which can not be destroyed.
So you are a beautiful creation, indestructible. You had to be. But you are a part of the whole. You are indestructible only in the absolute, natural sense. Nature will reorganize you, will use you, will disperse you according to „her“ stochastical „needs“.
Why is nature female? Because she is the source of life. There are animals which do not rely on females to produce offspring, but human beings do. So for us, feeling, living, squirming little animals that we are, life and the creation of life is inevitably a female thing.
As a man, I am in awe of women. Not all of them, I’ll admit. There are some I could dispense with entirely. But then, I can say the same of men. But I digress, as so often. What I wanted to say is: I worship women because they can brew life. They bake babies, and that is insanely wonderful and definitely worth envying. It is amazing. It throws me for a loop, dammit, it shoves me off the stool on to the floor… I sit there on my ass and am amazed. Amazed. It’s insane, this ability, it’s like: KAZAM! Crazy. Impossible. Something out of a nutty science-fiction novel. And women can do it, just like that, like nothing. They don’t even have to try. I know that they couldn’t do it without men to inseminate them, but nevertheless… I’ve seen a woman give birth; I saw my son come out, so I know what the hell I am talking about. The simple fact that women can produce babies sets them on a higher level in my eyes. It makes them worthy of worship.
Too bad I have no female to worship at the moment.

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