Song and fucking dance.

When the voices rise up, in one unified chant, dictating in near inaudible tones those things which I can't understanding, on this day - on these days - time will cease to have any meaning. The veneer of to world will be chipped away and all things in space shall lose the context in which we have ever understood them. The apocalypse is funny that way. And life, well life is the greatest joke ever told, and we're always at the center of the punchline. Maybe it's like those jokes you would play on yourself as a lonely child. Anything for a brief moment of laughter and some reprieve from the numbing boredom.

An essay was once written, from an anthropological perspective, that we are continually re-living ancient religious rituals and rites in everyday society, as though this is something we cannot escape but also refuse to acknowledge. I wonder if the same could be said of the games and tricks we played as children; we continue to set these up and watch them unfold, if only for our own amusement. This may explain far too much.

I suppose, if we're unwilling to acknowledge that these patters continue to self-replicate, that we don't really need to be worried, as we can't tell their occurring. Maybe the best course of action is to just sit back, watch it all happen, and play the game. The same song and fucking dance, forever.