Devil Monkey Boy

These periods of growth sure are fucking exhausting. It reminds me of being a kid again, smack dab in the middle of growth spurt, needing sleep all the time, eating like a Shetland. This is just like that, except, y'know, not. Not physically, anyway. But the mood is the same. I know I'll be better for it eventually, but at the moment I just need a nap.

I haven't been writing the past two weeks. Not at all. It hasn't been for lack of things to say, just lack of the energy with which to say them. Time, also. Now it's Memorial Day. I have some time to sit back and reflect.

I read Cat's Cradle again last week. It was the fourth or fifth time. My readings usually coincide with some period of upheaval in my life. As it happens, this time was no different in that regard. It got me thinking about purpose. We do things for reasons, because we delight in the fiction that we're reasonable creatures. I came here to New York for a reason. Though not without some uncertainty, I felt pretty good about that reason. Life looked at my reason and laughed. Turns out, the reason I'm here isn't the reason I thought. But does that mean there's no purpose to it? No, I said after a moment's deliberation. It was, in truth, the only answer that'd prevent me from heading down to Hot Topic to buy a wardrobe of black t-shirts. No, there's a purpose to me being here. I'll be damned if I know what it is, but I believe in it. So, here I am. As Brother Void says, "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm doing it as hard as I possibly can." That sounds about right.

Here are the last rites of Bokononism. They are nothing but a pack of lies, yet they some of the truest words I've ever read. If I had to choose today, I'd want them on my tombstone.

God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!"
"See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars."
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God!
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.
Amen.