it’s been awhile since I’ve written anything at all worth reading. In fact, I’ve lost the will to really put the words together in a fashion that I think would be appropriate. diction, wordplay, metaphors, similes — what does it matter now. my audience is gone. willfully purged. & honestly, I wouldn’t mind it. in fact, I’m happy and I’m glad the theater is empty once again.
"You still cross my mind from time to time. And I mostly smile. Still set on finding out where we went wrong… and why. So I retrace our every step with an unsure pen. Trying to find out what my head thinks — but my head just ain’t what it used to be. But then again… what’s the point anyway."
It sums it up nicely. Now and then, I hear something. A faint tinkling of your actions, a leaf overturned, a sudden ‘ah! so that happened’. It happens less and less nowadays. Before it had been earthquakes shaking up my foundation to it’s very core, now they’re mini shakes — things I don’t even feel anymore. There’s no real way to address this romantically. I’d rather be simple and cold, than bring false hope. You always told me to cultivate a sense of honesty. I just wish I had the same.
There’s nothing left. There never will be anymore. I stand in a theater, alone, and it’s more peaceful, more fulfilling than the silence shared between two individuals that no longer have anything to say to each other. This is my final address, the final parting of ways. May you find whatever peace is out there for you. I have no concern for what you do, who you do, or why you do anything at all. I’ve packed my bags long ago, but always hesitated leaving home. But there’s a whole world out there, glowing; too enticing to simply spend it at home, moping over the past.
Let me throw out this specifically very creepy science fiction scenario for you.
When people in a zoo or in a preserve will try to raise a panda from a baby, or try to raise a condor from a baby or whatever they have ways they can convince the other, because they are so much more intelligent than the creatures. They have all sorts of tools for convincing the creatures that they are one of them. Like they will let you feed them … you can even make yourself look like its mother or smell like its mother. And out in the wild even, you know, in many cases if you can make yourself smell perfectly like another gazelle you can walk around the gazelles, and they’re so dumb … they can smell a lion and they know it’s a lion, and they know to be alarmed. …
So it’s easy to fool them that you’re one of them. In a way that’s it’s impossible for them to detect.
So, if there was another species that wanted to study us the way we study gazelles or the way we study rare birds or whatever,
if they are that much smarter than we are than we are to the animals, they would absolutely have ways to walk among us in ways that are absolutely undetectable.
Even we wouldn’t see them at all, or else we would mistake them for a fellow human.
But the way we portray them in movies, like the aliens are sort of clumsy in how they do it, like they don’t know how to mimic human emotion or that they don’t understand love or they’re very robotic … We’re kind of insulting the aliens when we assume that. They’d be smart enough to come here and they’d be of much higher intelligence, but they wouldn’t be able to mimic our social cues.
Ok, just like we can smear animal urine over our own bodies in order to pass among them, they would totally know how to imitate love and charisma and all of those things.
So I think if they were here and watching us, if they were that much more advanced than we are, we would never know they’re here. We would not be capturing their ships on freakin’ camera phones or whatever.
They would pass among us completely undetected and we would never know until they chose to let us know."
David Wong (aka Jason Pargin) on the Cracked Podcast
I recommend listening to the whole thing — it’s a pretty interesting conversation overall. This was just my favorite excerpt.
(quote starts around 55:20)