Text: Procastination, being

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O that that earth which kept the world in awe
Should patch a wall t'expel the winter's flaw. -- Hamlet, Shakespeare

Life is great. If nothing else for the fact that you know no matter how much you will fuck up one day, or how terrible everything will seem, it will end. It will all be over. You can work your hardest to provide for your family; break your back to achieve rank and status; and when you go to bed at night, you close your eyes, much in the way the world closes it's own on you someday. You connect to your dreams, everything you have experienced swirling in a stew of mixed images--memories, passions, loves, losses--and then the inevitable happens. You don't wake up. You don't have another chance to say, 'Woah, I had a dream about that the other day.' You become the nothingness that you've always been a part of, permanently, although no one stopped to realize that you were nothing already. They didn't stop to think that they were nothing as well.

Why the morbid topic? Perhaps it is the procrastinators last salvation. In a world fueled by man-made interests, enraptured by ethical and philosophical discourse, you know the question on everyone's mind is 'Why do anything at all?' You can do literally nothing and wither away, or you can do everything and the same will occur. So in a world where people are determined by how close and far they are from sanity and insanity, why not try insanity for the hell of it? Why be conservative in a world that is begging you to liberal? We've all only lived this life once, how do we know what the best path is? Why be consumed by jealousy, why care at all?

Women.

For women: men.

There is only one thing that we revolve around. Women are the earth men are the sun. This isn't a new tradition. Without each other, they are nothing. The earth becomes a floating rock, cold, lifeless and the sun, without something to burn for burns for no one. Would the sun exist without the earth? Could the woman or man exist without the opposite? Women make great men, women make themselves great--but would women make great women, or men make great men? Could two Earths strive together? Would two suns be too hot, consumed by their own desire to burn hotter than the other? Our entire world exists on the duality of everything. With patience there is anger, "for fear there is a heart, to doubt, a mind" (Cummings). For every dawn there is dusk. In life, we need death. As a man, you need a woman. As a woman, you need a man. Apart from the Christian ideal that heterosexuality is essential to the progression of mankind, it is also quintessential to nature.

So what is the meaning of life? Can there be enough balance in a single sentence to answer that question completely? The meaning of life is a woman, but not so much as the woman is the end of life once you've been with her. She should invigorate and refresh all that you've made for yourself. When your day comes, you had two hearts, two souls mixed together--she the Earth, you the sun. With your warmth she is given life, weathering the seasons of her spirit, as you and her thrive from the other--and everything that she is, makes you burn.

I love life. If not just for women, for the fact that no matter what we do, simply 'being' is satisfying enough.