Getting out of bed–again

Getting out of bed–again.  What keeps us going, when everything seems so hopeless?  We would like to say that it is the possibility that we will be remembered but it isn’t.  In fact, nothing will be remembered, least of all our long, protracted solemnity in the face of life.  Life will not remember such things, nor will any of the living.  Life will spit out from the corner of its mouth any such nonsense, and make sure not to digest the slightest portion of you.  So, it seems hopeless and it is, which means there is nothing that keeps us going–but nevertheless we still keep going, going until we run out of steam, going until the daytime becomes the dream and the dream our waking life.  That’s how it is with life: nothing on top of nothing; the goal reaching itself, then turning back on itself, folding over itself as though it were the last thing standing, when it’s not.  Everything is standing, so that it can fall.  That is all.

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