(no subject)
A Letter to a Nonexistent Son or Daughter
Dear You,
I have addressed you so poorly for I have not come up with a unisex name to address you by, assuming my habits of naming remain the same between now and when my DNA duplicates to create you. That is to say, if I do. Perhaps one day the atoms that would have made you up and the carbon and hydrogen in mine could have combined in the universe to create a planet, but that is not to say that you will not come into this over-hyped physical existence on Earth anyways.
i suppose i could tell you of Earth: i as your father live in a plot of grass, gravel and a mix of stone and adhesive arranged in such a fashion to create shelter, called commerce township. i do not simply live in earth because this way i can tell other earth-folk where my mix of stone and adhesive arranged in such a fashion to create shelter is without pinpointing (for i am not accurate as you will come to realize if we do meet beyond simply conjoining atoms) my location from space. we are in a township because they divide our states, which are pieces of the country, which are pieces of the continent, which are pieces divided across the earth, which is a contributing piece to the healthy physical appearance of the solar system in the galaxy in this universe, and really we serve as aesthetics to anyone watching. (they divide them this way so that the humans who are better than us and are elected to make our decisions want to collect money from us by townships, state, country, continent, planet) money is a symbol traded between earthlings and earthlings, it is made up of hydrogen and carbon (most likely, i am not a chemist as i do not have an occupation) and is measured in dollars, which are symbols of a piece of a life that is spent working for someone else. it is traded for the outcome of someone else's working, therefore making the whole process even out. we are happy when we make a trade because chemicals in our brain system go wow! wow! wow!
let me, now, tell you why i have written this letter. i would like you as my son to take after me in knowing that we are atoms and we are not meant to be anything but. this is not so much that we would not ever be, but we are slaves to a law defined by another jumble of atoms known as Isaac Newton. we are commanded to be stuck to the planet by "gravity". The atmosphere outside of us shields our eyes from the possibility of exploring anything beyond this mass of hydrogen and oxygen and carbon, and instead makes us feel as though we are better than the smaller bundles of carbon and hydrogen, such as plants and animals. these two things are things that we destroy to put inside of ourselves, filling us up with hydrogen and carbon so we do not become part of the dirt (composed of carbon and hydrogen) that our feet and our shoes and socks make direct contact with (which are also made of hydrogen and oxygen).
no one human has the right to take this letter from you, my child, and if they do you can simply destroy it and let the bad mass, curious mass or offended mass know that one day the hydrogen and carbon you made into tiny pieces will one day in infinity collide with the atoms of you that are scattered throughout the universe once the ball of hydrogen and carbon we are stuck to becomes much tinier pieces of carbon and hydrogen. when that moment occurs you can create a larger ball that will soon be filled with stacks of hydrogen and carbon that roam the halls of the buildings they created, step on the plants that they are not related to and kill the animals that are weaker and separate, but you and this letter, as well as many friends you may make traveling through the universe, will know that soon when all of this hydrogen and carbon moves along throughout the galaxies that are made up of hydrogen and carbon, they may create planets filled with plants that can step on the humans for they are smaller, animals who can attack humans because they are weaker, and roam the halls of the buildings that are made of carbon and hydrogen.
With best wishes for your infinite future,
Tom Auty.
Dear You,
I have addressed you so poorly for I have not come up with a unisex name to address you by, assuming my habits of naming remain the same between now and when my DNA duplicates to create you. That is to say, if I do. Perhaps one day the atoms that would have made you up and the carbon and hydrogen in mine could have combined in the universe to create a planet, but that is not to say that you will not come into this over-hyped physical existence on Earth anyways.
i suppose i could tell you of Earth: i as your father live in a plot of grass, gravel and a mix of stone and adhesive arranged in such a fashion to create shelter, called commerce township. i do not simply live in earth because this way i can tell other earth-folk where my mix of stone and adhesive arranged in such a fashion to create shelter is without pinpointing (for i am not accurate as you will come to realize if we do meet beyond simply conjoining atoms) my location from space. we are in a township because they divide our states, which are pieces of the country, which are pieces of the continent, which are pieces divided across the earth, which is a contributing piece to the healthy physical appearance of the solar system in the galaxy in this universe, and really we serve as aesthetics to anyone watching. (they divide them this way so that the humans who are better than us and are elected to make our decisions want to collect money from us by townships, state, country, continent, planet) money is a symbol traded between earthlings and earthlings, it is made up of hydrogen and carbon (most likely, i am not a chemist as i do not have an occupation) and is measured in dollars, which are symbols of a piece of a life that is spent working for someone else. it is traded for the outcome of someone else's working, therefore making the whole process even out. we are happy when we make a trade because chemicals in our brain system go wow! wow! wow!
let me, now, tell you why i have written this letter. i would like you as my son to take after me in knowing that we are atoms and we are not meant to be anything but. this is not so much that we would not ever be, but we are slaves to a law defined by another jumble of atoms known as Isaac Newton. we are commanded to be stuck to the planet by "gravity". The atmosphere outside of us shields our eyes from the possibility of exploring anything beyond this mass of hydrogen and oxygen and carbon, and instead makes us feel as though we are better than the smaller bundles of carbon and hydrogen, such as plants and animals. these two things are things that we destroy to put inside of ourselves, filling us up with hydrogen and carbon so we do not become part of the dirt (composed of carbon and hydrogen) that our feet and our shoes and socks make direct contact with (which are also made of hydrogen and oxygen).
no one human has the right to take this letter from you, my child, and if they do you can simply destroy it and let the bad mass, curious mass or offended mass know that one day the hydrogen and carbon you made into tiny pieces will one day in infinity collide with the atoms of you that are scattered throughout the universe once the ball of hydrogen and carbon we are stuck to becomes much tinier pieces of carbon and hydrogen. when that moment occurs you can create a larger ball that will soon be filled with stacks of hydrogen and carbon that roam the halls of the buildings they created, step on the plants that they are not related to and kill the animals that are weaker and separate, but you and this letter, as well as many friends you may make traveling through the universe, will know that soon when all of this hydrogen and carbon moves along throughout the galaxies that are made up of hydrogen and carbon, they may create planets filled with plants that can step on the humans for they are smaller, animals who can attack humans because they are weaker, and roam the halls of the buildings that are made of carbon and hydrogen.
With best wishes for your infinite future,
Tom Auty.