Two Parts of a Sheet

Gipper Beanhard.

The tiny march of minutes marches smallly.

The word 'small-ly' requires 3 consecutive 'L's.

I feel like the Robot half of me and the Melted Candy Bar half of me are limply slapping each other. 

Everyone has a Robot half and a Melted Candy Bar half. The Robot half is clean. The Melted Candy Bar half spreads and is, therefore, filthy. Chaos and Order. Fear and Laziness. Right angles and wiggles. 

Here's something that makes me think the world is impossibly big: One time, and I may have already written about this here but, one time I was sitting on a bus as a kid and I saw this woman walking down the sidewalk and she looked sad and slow and unremarkable. Anyway, I remember thinking that that person, that random person, had, by necessity, lived a whole life full of countless significant events and that, all the information, the massive amounts of information that go into just being a person was more than I could ever possibly know. I mean, all I can ever possibly know is my experience. It was too much to try to imagine another person living an entirely different life. But it all fits. It has to, right? Does that make sense?

Like, you can imagine a lot of things. You can imagine a shark becoming the President of Nicaragua. But you can't imagine all of the crazy, unique, once in a lifetime things, that happen to one random person on the street. And you know that they must happen. They've happened to you. If you want try to moralize from that, I guess acknowledging the uniqueness and fullness of someone else's life is to acknowledge their equal share of the world and...equal share of specialness? Knowing that because they must be the center and the main actor in everything they experience, then you can't also be the only person who is the main actor in and center of everything you experience. Which is a bit humbling but it adds a lot of wonder and space and vastness to everything going on around you. Probably.

Audience: The Couch Crevice

Themes: Things I'm still thinking about 13 years later.