We have a weight to carry
and a distance we must go.
We have a weight to carry,
a distination we can't know.
We have a weight to carry
and can put it down nowhere.
We are the weight to carry
from there to here to there. - The Book of Counted Sorrows
It's like the title of Escape the Fate's song, Dragging Dead Bodies In Blue Bags Up Really Long Hills; all one does the whole day is drag around, in my case, 65 kilograms of flesh, blood, guts, bones, water and stuff - it's quite terrible and very funny really. It's also like the Greek myth of Sisyphus in a way, all he does is push a rock up and down a mountain for eternity and people like Samuel Beckett will tell you that that is the lot of mankind. Everyone I know consciously loves their meat suit but the subconscious is a different matter all together; people smoke, drink, get high on banana peels (this is actually possible I'm told) and drive their cars really fast down really long hills because it's fun they say. In a way it's pretty morbid how we kill ourselves bit by bit everyday and then we turn around and tell people not to jump off of buildings. It's the plank in the eye story all over again.
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