Today I woke up at around 9 o’ clock, which is a slightly abberant occurrence for me, at least since school has been over. I decided to do some reading with this extra daylight. It was a nice enough day, so I rummaged through the garage and extricated a lawn chair from an imbroglio of knick knacks and boxes. I walked out to my backyard, shooed off the myriad of birds congregating around my bird feeder and plopped down in the shade.
It wasn’t long before I crept up upon a particular soporific section of Steinbeck’s East of Eden and decided to nap for a bit. When I woke up I got all existentialist and shit for like 5 minutes. I remembered thinking when I was much younger about existence and its significance. Basically without consciousness or existence, there is nothing. Just nothing. Every time i think about that, I am just on the verge of comprehending it, but I never can grasp it completely. Without life there is absolutely nothing. Life is everything. Just think about it for like 5 minutes, it’s really disconcerting actually. I don’t know, I didn’t explain that very well, but it was just something i was thinking about.