Dilley Was Right

Thought about the rocks this past summer. Looked at them a lot, anyway. And do they mean something? I already knew that we're specs in geologic time--that we'll still be specs in geologic time even if we somehow manage to eke out another 1000 years on our big rock. The rocks seem set up to go till the whole fucking thing is burned to shit by whut--our sun going supernova? I dunno. Too lazy to google that. Anything less than that--or something massive crashing into the earth, splitting it apart--and the rocks will go on forever, far as I know. Hell, even floating around in space I guess they're still doing fine. Even ground to dust, they flourish. Or at least they don't give a fuck.

So maybe it would be nice to be a rock. Or think like one. I dunno...cuz I ain't a fucking rock and I could give a fuck what happens when we're done on this one. Time itself can wash up on the shores of some whacked out singularity. If I ain't there, I do not give a fuck. Hell, a lot of times when I'm here I don't give a fuck.

The notgiveafuckedness of a rock is great indeed--not acknowledging your own form, not giving a shit if it erodes slowly or gets pulverized or is kicked around in an earthquake or rained on spat on or is never spoken to or never has anyone else to speak to. Not even having a name or a home--and not giving a fuck about that, either. Damn: rocks rock.