The Spin Theory

I’d love to take pictures again. She said it’d be good to see them. My suspicions say she’s the last one watching, but perhaps, this writing thing is easier. Silver and gloss; ink on paper; pixels on a screen — I suppose it’s all black-and-white at the end of the day.

Sometimes I wish the world were more colorful. Oh, the fucks that could be given. It’s all bus rides and public transportation; shared experience, as it were. But —

Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose. 

I am sorry, though. I’ve been out of the game for so long, and it’s really not fair to either one of us. There is, after all, a universe where you’d get to enjoy these. And another yet where they never existed. Those are the strings that have yet to be cut.

That’s the fun, no? Everything exists; Schrödinger had a cat; bliss in ignorance — I never could get the phrasing right.

If you were an Archer fan, you’d’ve laughed.

You see those dots on the ceiling? You mentioned them. I stared at them as a kid; made constellations; told myself that patterns mattered. Everything can be defined; there is nothing a data point couldn’t explain. But that’s not what you want.

I can always make you laugh. That’s what I’ve got. It doesn’t mean so much these days. Everyone wants more. Perfection is bliss — there’s that damned phrasing again. But, really, what else is there? We’d all just be full of shit otherwise.

How is it the world keeps spinning and you stay ahead of it?

They gave me a name for a reason.

-spin