Everyday language is metaphysics...

I was drinking beer at a quiet, pleasant but slightly overlit bar with my good friend from work. I don't normally smoke, unless I am drinking, and so I didn't have any cigarettes on me. I was drinking and so I wanted to smoke. I had to get some cigarettes from the convenience store, and so I had to notify my friend that I was going away but I would be back very shortly. I was slightly embarrassed that I was about to smoke and so I didn't want to tell him explicitly where I was going or what I was doing. So this is what I chose to do:

1. I took the very essence of my being, and I transmuted it so that it became the subjective experience of my friend.

2. I manipulated the fullness of his experience so that it recognised myself as a delimited partition within the totality of his own perception of his being.

3. I defined that partition as an experience of my own physical and inter-relational absence from his immediate sensory perception.

4. To recap: The essence of my being was now the experience of my own absence within his perception of of his immediate environment. But only in my own perception of his future experience of which he was unaware.

5. I summoned the very fabric of everything to my disposal, and applied a mechanical construct of human ingenuity to it. In this way, I was able to rip 'time' away from 'space', and subsume it into collective human experience. I could now use a similar mechanical human construct to divide time into definite subdivisions.

6. I could now use a linguistic construct, which was actually the benefactor of the ability to create the mechanical constructs described above, to blur the edges of those mechanical definitions and infer an indefinite concept of smallness and apply it to his subjective perception of time.

7. I used our shared understanding of phonemic sounds to once again separate our selves and redraw boundaries between our perceptions of self, and at the same time convey our fabricated interpersonal relationship in terms of space, time and separateness. And I said:

"I'll be two minutes".

The Bomb as the Brake of Karma...

I was young when the world ended. My family was a blood red rose thirsting for life in the broken concrete jungle of an urban warzone, tangled up in a mass of seething vines and brambles in a dark corner of a broken city that time had long forgotten. An untouchable corner of the city, unvisited, and we were never seen by the beautiful eyes of those glimmering diamonds who knew everything of our plight but nothing of our lives. Those beautiful glittering diamonds dancing their way to heaven with numbers on their backs, every move subject to the watchful gaze of a pantheon of judges, every step well placed onto the heart of another while the applause deafened them all and made them dizzy and drunk so that they thought of nothing but the music and the moves that they had learned from watching each other.

And when the dancing got so furious that bombs began to fall, the petals of my family burned to nothing, and the winds that came blew our ashes this way and that, along with the vines and the brambles and the concrete and the diamonds whose long evolution had been undone in a flash and who were now nothing but simple carbon once again. And we all looked the same. And nothing moved.

So where does my soul go to now? Our perennial seed remains but there is no earth in which to take root. We used to come back. We used to come back to the promise of growth and of dreams. We used to go back. But now there is nowhere to go.