Monday, October 11, 2004


t's getting late and I'm floating in the nothingness of space somewhere in the 8.5 minutes between the moon and the earth. I can somehow breath yet I'm in a vacuum. Looking at the blue planet from this crazy ether armchair, I'd say I'm looking down, but, as anyone knows, such terms do not apply out here. I'm watching as our planet is being turned inside out. It's like a rotten apple lying beneath a tree, infested with bugs and being eaten from the inside out. For the first time ever, I see it like this. Our bloody planet is rotten - the decomposition being hastened by too many grotesque insects. Too much rock being brought to the surface. Too much oil. Too many fish pulled from the oceans. They're killing everything. A volcano erupts.

I start to panic. I think consciousness will comfort me. Forcing my eyes to open, I immediately take in the deep quiet darkness of the hotel room. There is no comfort here. As I lie awake in bed, three thoughts romp around my mind:

1. I haven't heard a decent song since Johnny Cash died.

2. I haven't had a decent meal since Julia Child died.

3. I haven't had a decent thought since Jacques Derrida died.

Three important Js.

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