Inevitable

What if… what if I had to take a piss, no matter what. Perhaps time is like a river. You can throw a pebble in, and you’ll cause a ripple, but the main current goes on. So, no matter what I do, I am going to have to go to the toilet. Excuse me, I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back. So, where was I? Ah, piss, that is to say, urine. I don’t want to offend anyone here, harharhaaardiharhar (Jackie Gleason greets you from the grave).
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All those little rivulets of urine I’ve pissed over the years have become a mighty river of time. There is no way anyone can stop it, least of all myself. Or could I? Could I simply say, one fine day, I shall never piss again? My bladder would burst, after a while, and I would cease to be. Would that stop time?
Christ, what makes me piss so much? The coffee, the beer, the rum? Sure as hell ain’t water. But I digress, as so often. Time. That was the subject in question. Damned if I can remember where I heard that, but time is what keeps everything from happening at once.
Is that true? What is time… a concept invented to order the incessant procession of sameness we all face from day to day. Time is a matter of perspection, a matter of scale. It’s subjective. I have no time, I have all the time in the world… there is in fact no difference between these two statements. The only thing that remains is inevitability. Things happen, and in the final analysis it doesn’t matter when. They will happen, all those things.

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