Illness

Being sick always makes me think. It makes me wonder if there isn't something that I've done wrong, some karmic justice being extracted. Perhaps it is my longing for the end, maybe I'm placing sick thoughts into the universe and so my body reflects it. Most likely I'm just crazy.

But crazy is okay in a world that is committing its own kind of suicide. We are killing the world quickly through our human actions. The only reasonable answer - in so far as I can see - is that the population needs one of two things, a pressure release valve, or some culling. Personally I can't justify culling and so I hope for the pressure release valve even if that hope lies mostly in the realm of science fiction.

Speaking of science fiction I read a short story recently. It's strange that someone else can take my apocalyptic fears and transform it into a hopeful image. I'm going to have to read more of this Paul Di Filippo fellow.

Sorry for the rambling, but as I said, I am sick.