A fine spectacle

It's like a black hole. Every time I look at it, I'm amazed at the destruction that was wrought. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and yet here I am. Looking at myself in the mirror, wondering if in fact that's what is going to end up happening.

I really don't know what I'm saying. Not anymore. Not for a long time. Any kind of certainty I had in myself is faltering at best, but I suppose that's not something interesting, so I won't write about that.

Instead, I'll write about trees. At an art exhibition today, I saw many paintings and pictures of trees.

I thought to myself, why trees?

Trees. Of all things. Maybe it's a record of what they look like, so when they're all gone, we can still imagine, and pretend we see them through our foggy goggles and musty breathing masks. They'll be like old story book pictures that we were shown as kids, when our grandparents told us "look, this is the dodo."

And we would gawk, and imagine a bird so stupid that it would let itself go extinct. Perhaps that's the tree. Perhaps our children or grandchildren will look at paintings of trees and say "stupid trees. Went extinct because they were stupid." Oh, because of our morbid fascination with armoirs and designer architecture and heated hardwood flooring. The trees went extinct because they didn't know to get out of our way when we wanted houses.

It's not hard to imagine that when the trees are gone, we will hang pictures of them on the walls of our houses, when instead of wood, the walls will be made of bone. Animal bone at first. Then human bone, as it becomes realized that it's more abundant. That way, you'll always have a little piece of grandpa to hang his picture from when he's gone.

Would that creep people out, knowing that their house is made from the skeletal remains of other people? Most could be pragmatic about it. Some would think there's something seriously wrong with building a house of bones. Say nothing of the fact that a house of wood is just as macabre and dead. Except wood was stupid, and evolved with the rich, warm, woody tones that we learned to adore.

In a sense, it'd be even more disturbing to hang a picture of a tree from a wooden wall. This is just my rambling, and some have no compunctions about living or dead things, provided they're not human. Just a silly double standard. When a tree falls on man, it is a tragedy. When a man fells a tree, it is profit.

So trees. And bones. And kibbles and bits. And bits and bits and bits.
Yeah, I've rambled enough.