Sometimes we need to be saved from the emotional turmoil that is caused by the disease called “life”. Or perhaps that is what we have always done and will always do. We fill our days with activities that take our minds off the fact that we are gradually decaying blobs of biological material. Work, hobbies, TV, movies, drinking, eating, sports, exercise, raising kids, and on and on it goes as we endlessly look for new stuff to fill our days. Like ants, we mill about building monuments to our existence in hopes of what? That we will be remembered by the ants that follow in the next generation? That some big fat bastard doesn’t come along and stomp on our anthill?
It was Thomas Wolfe that said
Man is born to live, to suffer, and to die, and what befalls him is a tragic lot. There is no denying this in the final end. But we must deny it all along the way.
I feel that I must end this depressing discussion with a song that is filled with a cheery view of existential angst by that prince of philosophers, Hank Williams Junior
Why do you drink? Why do you roll smoke?
Why must you live out the songs that you wrote?
Over and over everybody makes my predictions.
So if I get stoned I’m just carrying on an old family tradition.