Few in church

 Humanity’s Future

Elon wants us to be a space-faring species.   Inspired like things like Star Wars and Star Trek.   Space is a harsh, unwelcoming environment.   Its main feature is It is utterly, incomprehensibly,  Vast.   Massively, insanely, stupidly Vast.  The closest exoplanets themselves are impossible.         The space between.   The “heavens” are cold, dark, requiring immense speed to traverse, and therefore threatened by the tiniest particles, that could collide with our expensive craft, en route.   Requiring so much time as to be utterly boring, in the inhuman confinement of a craft, that it seems would require robotic, not human, control.  

If only we could move our star and planet, together, toward our (destination?).    Presumably we’d need the moon, too.

We are racing through space already.   They say everything is getting further away, though.   Space, like a rising, expanding bread loaf.   But some things are attracting.

En route.  Avatar (movIe) scenario?   Something to keep minds occupied.  

And other needs.

Good food?  Exercise?  Worlds of information, virtual worlds.   Food, food, food.  Hungry.

Anyway.    I’m not theoretical physicist.    I don’t know the possibilities, scientific and technological.   I’m just intimidated by the Vast.   Seems like the priority should be Human Life on Earth.  

Is it possible?   Is it worth the time, money, effort?  Will the computers generate viable answer(s)?  

Lots of time to think of Heaven.   Perfection.   Bliss.  Longevity.  Meaning.  

Beyond just a blowjob robot.  

All the movies, books, music, internet, experience.

Sex, nature, hiking, swimming, surfing, rock climbing, varieties of religious experience, drugs, bodybuilding, restaurants, raising families, conversation, education, debate, imagination, thinking, philosophy, writing, exploration, sleep, dreaming, and for those inclined, battle, justice.   Every manner of service, employment, invention.   Roles to play.

Every mind is its own world.   From the littlest bug to the biggest whale.  Let love rule.  

My life is my blog, reading, trivia, dog-walking, eating, exercise, rest, movies, music, and variety, keeping busy, doing different things, entering different worlds (like books), and occasional travel.   Some conversation, of course.  Meditation, medication.   

It’s pretty simple:  We live, we die, that’s it.   Do what you want.   Be good.  

Can’t know people.   Possessed.   Roles.  Situations.   Identity is a farce.  

Who am I?   What did I hear:  we are what we imagine others think we are?

We’re actors on the world stage.   We choose our roles.    Or sometimes, anyway.

We are our bodies.   Our gender.   Job.  Sexuality.  Our past.   The places we go, we’ve been.   The books we’ve read.   Influences, teachers, movies.    Some say we are imaginary, we don’t exist, like physicists, or buddhists, or nihilists.   I (my DNA) could’ve been in another culture, family, religions.   I could be in relationships with a menu of millions, or more.  Or is it fate?  Is there no free will?   I walk my dogs through a cloud of possibility.   I could have gone to any number of schools.   I could live anywhere.  I could do a zillion things tomorrow.   

From zero to zillion.  Zilch to infinity.   Zz.    Zz top and sleeping and nullibiety to Allah.   Flies buzz.   Mosquitos to mosques.   A mosquito, my libido.  Hey!

What could I do tomorrow.   Die.   Wake.  Dream.  Read, watch, listen, eat, exercise, sleep, write, talk, create.   What do I create?  Like maybe origami, or muscle.   Make money.   Serve, be of service, get things done, busy busy.  Work, and play.   Laugh, listen to comedy.  Watch porn, masturbate, cum.  You know, the usual.  Go to a restaurant.   Order something new, or maybe a favorite.  Make life fun, stay in heaven, avoid hell.  Stay informed, read the news, Wikipedia, The Economist, 1440 email.   Sit.   Name things.  Ponder my navel.   Well, you know, my breath, in and out, being alive.   

Mortality.

No one lives forever.   You can be a God, a human, a demon, an angel, a saint…   You’ll die, like everyone else.  I was thinking, is a Saint better than a God?   God’s are warriors, saints are good, virtuous.    It is better to stay out of a fight, I think.  Like, not even acrimonious debate, or going to court, or -especially- combat.   Just let it be.  If you step out of the situation, you can probably relate.  You know, empathize.  

What are we all doing?  Making a living.   Getting by.   Trying to be who we want to be.   To live up to expectations, or have integrity, or do right by others, by God.  Fighting evil, like prayer warriors, or spiritual combat, maybe politics, or police work, or the other polii (politesse).   Don’t be rude.  Respect.

Pleasure, a little treasure.  To quote Depeche Mode.  Do unto others as you would have them do to you.   Also, the inverse.   Don’t do to others, just as you wouldn’t have done to yourself.   And a corollary:  Don’t necessarily do either;  people have different tastes - George Bernard Shaw.  And, as a few have said, “It’s all good.”  (!?!)

What is evil?  Santa knows if you’ve been bad or good.   It’s your parents, your conscience, the law, and God.   Opinion, basically.   My roommate in college said morality was based on pleasure or pain.   Which is obviously a big part of it.  Situational ethics is a thing.  The greatest good for the greatest number, I forgot what that is (utilitarianism, thank you internet).  And of course, Self, the primary thing.  Look out for number One.   Freedom, happiness, survival.   Protect your neck.   Staying alive, staying alive.   Eudemonia, human-flourishing (no, not floor polishing, flourishing).   We’re all just animals.  From bugs to whales.  We all want to live.   From the littlest baby to the biggest VIP, we are all tools of the conspiracy! -Dead Milkmen (I think they were kidding).  We all want the Good Life, that is to say. 

Bad words?  Like ass, bitch, cunt, dick, fuck, pussy, and shit.  Look, I even alphabetized them.  The n-word, of course.  Puta verga chingon culo, o así.   Yada yada.  It’s all just noise.   Good noise and Bad noise.   I ain’t tryin’ to hear that!   The tv is just light?   Well, kind of.   But not really.   Static is seriously annoying, of course.  BART can be especially grating sound (strident), at times.   I don’t like commercials, usually.   I don’t like pain.  Like everybody else.   There are some evil smells.  A lawyer might say crime is evil.   Some things are more heinous than others.  Stealing a candy bar is not torturing a baby.   It’s not binary.