Comedy
The Dark Ages - Volume 5: Here's a little story: When she spent time thinking about the future, Meg recognized that she was often inclined to not see much of anything. More to the point, all that she imagined seemed small. Not objectively small, but small in relation to the scope of her vision. She saw wealth and power on her horizons and that was a problem. It wasn’t that they were far away but as concepts they were dwarfed by her horizons. She felt no anxiety about the present, no regret about the past, and the future only seemed faulty in its tendency to underwhelm her. In her life there was nothing that could compare to her vast expanse of vision, it seemed infinite in its width and depth. In the present she was a seeker of experience, and all experience fit well only into the present moment – in comparison to the concept of Meg’s comprehension as an entity, a single moment was hilariously trivial. Even in her contemplation of death it seemed that death was just an exceptionally token part of her eventuality. She often wondered if the wall that separates most people from their future lives was not present in her, and if she was currently experiencing the entire future of all her future selves. It just seemed like the space where all of her experiences were stored was an inexplicably enormous, empty space. Love couldn’t fill it, or talent, or passion, anger, fear, pain; nothing even began to fill the space in any meaningful sense. She wondered if she gathered up every person who ever lived, and every person who ever would live and she lined them up in nice tidy little rows, if the spectacle would satisfy the space. She figured it would come up lacking. It seemed a big enough area that everything that ever was, or would be, could fit inside multiple times over. Taking everything that there ever was, or would ever be and putting it into a place was a paradox, not to mention multiplying the entirety of everything in an attempt to fill a space that wasn’t satisfied by having everything added to it. Meg wondered if her future was a portal out of the universe. She was comforted by the idea of a space big enough to hold everything, and everything again. The idea that she could hold such a place of untold enormity within herself to begin with was a comfort. She imagined all of everything there ever was and ever would be, smashed up into a little luminescent clump, lined up with other luminescent clumps of everything there ever was, or ever would be, all in tidy rows, dwarfed by the horizon. Billions of little clumps of luminescent everythings, lined up nice and straight. Sitting in the sun, her skin burnt red, she could imagine the sun as a pinprick of light in her future. She imagined her life next to the pinprick of the sun, and the luminescent clumps of everything ever, and all of the people ever, standing in lines next to their souls, shadows, ideas, and dreams, along with a living, physical representation of every moment of their own personal lifespan, and every future and past life, all with their shadows, and souls, and ideas, and dreams, and a living physical representation of every moment of their own person lifespan, amid all of those things, Meg’s own singular life was all but undetectable and yet she housed a future of such size that all this other shit could barely even cramp the space. She had watched Scottsdale burn and had a peripheral idea of what was going on now in that city. She had a new job at an Arby's near her apartment in Phoenix and wasn't really worried about Scottsdale. It seemed to be worlds away. soundcloud.com/sharktankandthebiscuit facebook.com/sharktankandthebiscuit rockettalkpodcasts@gmail.com