sitting in my chair on a sunday morning contemplating the vagaries of life

One day you’re going to wake up and you’ll be dead.  All life is folly.  Your time here is transient.  From the moment you are conceived, the big countdown to the end starts ticking and you haven’t even tasted your first breath.  Life moves towards death.  It seems almost ludicrous to get attached to anything, or anyone, or to life itself for that matter.  Life is precious and precarious.  You can be snuffed out in a moment – the next moment or the moment after that.  Maybe you’re lucky and fate has arranged your cards such that you get to languish around into your 80s or 90s but you know what, you still die in the end.  The whole equation life = death, makes everything we do, everything we strive for or worry about, seem insane.  What’s the point?  Why go through all the trouble of trying to collect and hang onto all the scraps you fight for every day?  Why not just get naked and party hard?

“Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand – strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOO HOO – What a Ride!â€?  I can’t find the person who wrote that, he or she comes up as unknown.  They were probably to busy living hard to bother about leaving a note to get quoted!

I think I might be on the brink of becoming a hedonist.  It seems insane to do otherwise.  Why not get the maximum enjoyment out of life and do the things you want to do? Or as the Grateful Dead sang:

I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe
But at least I’m enjoyin’ the ride
At least I’m enjoyin’ the ride
Yeah, at least I’m enjoyin’ the ride
Yeah

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