jaaduhai

What makes real life so real? Tell me, is there a false life you store somewhere? Somewhere between the spaces, perhaps. What is a false life anyway? What component can you add to life to make it false, or what function can you take away?

Do you have a different life that's all a play. All pre-scripted. You get the script the day before, plenty of time to practice. Then morning comes and you act it out. Line by line, a pitch perfect delivery. How fake. Sounds so different from a real life.

Oh, by the way, what you do online (on the internet) is real life. Facebook, Twitter, Flickr, Tumblr, Mumblr - all real life. All the interactions that take place within those contexts are real.

Unless, you know, you're the one faking them.

Place us in the universe and we are microorganisms.

even in toronto --
among the falling flakes --
i long for toronto.

Rome was also never not built.

I don't know when I am not.

The thing about falling isn't just the pain of falling, but also the embarrassment of having fallen.

I feel like a million unicorns.

Live and let live, we'll make sure that you do.

what happens to the soul
of an apple once it dies?
what happens to the soul
of a tree, the soul of an
ant, the soul of a bee?

what happens to a lego
house once taken apart?
where does the house
go? who can we ask?
who really knows? is it
the bricks that make a
house, or a house that
makes the bricks? is it
our body that makes us
move, or our souls that
make us tick?

how do we make sense
of what we're told? how
do we make sense of
our very souls?

Antje looked down at some sort of scale. "Fuckity fuck fuck," she said, "we're going to be short again. There isn't enough."

"Great, as if we weren't in enough shit already," Erich chimed in.

They were responsible for this farm. Thousands of cows with thousands of workers. Milking away. They literally stood in cow dung that came up to their ankles.

"Any chance we could fudge the numbers? " Erich continued, "When was the last time we..."

"Fudge the numbers?" Antje interrupted, "Are you out of your mind? What if someone notices? What if an angel does an audit? Or worse, what if God is looking? Are you willing to take on that responsibility on behalf of all these people? We'll all suffer for this."

"We'll suffer if we're short, and we suffer if we lie. What are the odds?"

"I am not in the mood to play the odds. We've played the odds before and we have the scars to show for it."

"We can try and recruit extra help."

"Who will come here now? We don't have the time to recruit people anyway."

"Well, I spoke to the guys at the rooms not too long ago. They said they'd see what they could do."

"Oh? Who did you speak to? I hope not to the Buddhists. There's nothing more useless in hell than a Buddhist," Anjte said with a slight smirk. The type of smirk that tried to balance itself between truth, humour and some sense of impending doom.

"No no. I spoke to almost everyone else, the Muslims, Christians, Hindus, atheists, agnostics. And a whole bunch more. I don't know if any will come through."

"Hmmm, but if they do we might be in good shape. Maybe."

"Maybe."

"But here we are now. And here we are still."

"Still, it's better than handling bees."

"That it is," Antje looked back down at the scale, "That it is."