Folded Thought of the Day:


Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have gathered here to bear 
witness to another brave chapter in our ever-growing saga of free 
will and illustrious oblivion.  Yes, the dime-a-dozen crowd is 
arriving as we speak, all cleaned up and freshly pressed.  Word 
on the street is that they all had a smooth flight in.  Which, of 
course, will render them ill-prepared for the part of tonight's 
program that nobody scheduled.

You see...there's only so far we can go with this before some set 
of invisible hands decides to alter the course.

But more of that later.  The spotlights are shining bright and the 
see-saw parade is in full swing.  Who's this, looking so spry in 
his top hat and tails?  Could it be?  I heard he wasn't going to 
be invited.  Yeah, well we're taking liberties with the liberal 
sensibilities that confirm our trajectory towards a kinder, 
gentler form of terror.  So be prepared for a few surprises.

Just step back and find a suitable place to relax among the 
ruins.  Take comfort in your enlightened, worldly ways.  And 
if you find yourself on anything resembling higher ground, 
you might want to take a gander in a southerly direction.  
Do you notice the glow?  No, it should not be confused with 
any form of warmth.  That's the candle-light faction...and 
they're harboring their own source of illumination.  Casting 
shadows of doubt on all the fallen corners...the facade that 
never stood a chance of sustained standing.

Was there ever even a doubt?...did anybody around here really 
harbor any delusions?

Its purpose, when observed rationally, was always a bit of a 
mystery.  Never concealing anything but our own personal subset 
of horrors.  Tumbling in a beautifully synchronized -- almost 
as if it was choreographed -- collection of syncopated crashes.  
Quite the domino effect...commencing long before any of us had 
an honest chance to think about stopping.  And it's heading 
directly toward the big block party.

Assumptions having failed, one will look for logical, and 
highly debatable assertions.  Harkening back for a little 
of that ancient wisdom.  Reaching into an ever-expanding 
void.  Citing the absurd...and the sublime.  With heightened 
desperation...as each passing obliteration continues to 
add up -- approaching a more or less discernable zero. 

Homesick and left to drift among the debris.  No thoughts. 
No meaning.  Just deeds to be accounted for on some other 
plane.  A distribution process for the forlorn and adjunct.

Taking for granted that whatever eyes were once cast upon our 
actions have long since lost interest.  Looked away.  With 
better things on their itinerary than this dissolution...this 
sordid, altogether uninteresting tale.

Left now.  With nothing to account for but your own lost 
innocence...your own betrayal.

The moment of other.  A reckoning of sorts.  


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