That it’s rough out there and chancy is no surprise. Every live thing is a survivor on a kind of extended emergency bivouac. But at the same time we are also created. In the Koran, Allah asks “the heaven and the earth, and all in between, thinkest thou I made them in jest?” It’s a good question. What do we think of the created universe, spanning an unthinkable void with an unthinkable profusion of forms? Or what do we think of nothingness, those sickening reaches of time in either direction? If the giant water bug was not made in jest, was it then made in earnest?
I'm going to let Dillard do the hard thinking and talking tonight. I am t-i-r-e-d. I don't have the energy to be profound or witty. I'm practically asleep already. Unthinkable voids and an unthinkable profusion of forms. That's a lot of unthinking. The only unthinking I'm capable of at the moment is sleep.
You see, for the past two weeks, I've been staying up late watching the Republican and Democratic conventions. That means I've been averaging about four or five hours of sleep a night for the past 14 or so days, give or take. All those late nights are catching up with me this evening. In fact, they're kicking my ass.
I think that God has a sense of humor. As evidence I would point you in the direction of Dillard's giant water bug, the giraffe, and anything connected to Donald Trump. Divine humor exists.
So does exhaustion. Right now, Saint Marty falls into the latter category.