radiohead | "packt like sardines in a crushd tin box" | amnesiac | 2001
after years of waiting
nothing came
as your life flashed before your eyes
you realize
you're looking in the wrong place
i'm a reasonable man
get off my case
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do our little crises in life bring our deeper existential questions to the surface and into clearer focus? or do they cause us to dramatize our fears and exaggerate our pain?
can i, alone, transform enmity in the workplace into an extinguishing of the ego?
dare i gag cynicism with hope?
is the tedium of life a necessary evil of material existence, or is it the byproduct of our imperfection and ineptitude? can it be cured?
is idealism a crutch propping up my fear, or is it the product of hope?
does it even matter how my destiny is constructed, whether by me, by god, or by an incomprehensible, swirling amalgam of causes and effects created and suffered by innumerable variables?
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an ant crawled into the toilet water today. it was clearly struggling for its life, swimming around down there. i peed on it and then flushed it down. should i have helped it out? sas that callous disregard for life? is there a hierarchy of intelligence that allows me to treat an ant in a way that i would never treat a person, a dog? where is the line between life that should be respected and life that can be disregarded as insignificant? is there any line at all to distinguish me from a drowning ant beyond my own myopic perspective of fundamental reality?
are these merely the academic questions of a lawyer who is procrastinating the constant stream of his employer's loathsome demands?
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i hope the sun explodes in my lifetime – what a way to go!
