1. No Evidence
There is no evidence that heaven exists. In the Bible, heaven is a place that physically exists in the sky above Earth. It is in Genesis that we are told of the story when humans built a tower that was so tall God became concerned that they may soon reach heaven. However, humans have since put satellites in orbit around the Earth, sent a probe to the farthest reaches of our solar system and cast our eye into deep space, and there is still no evidence of heaven.
You might prefer to not read Genesis and the Bible literally. But if you take this option, you open up the Bible to an infinite number of interpretations and thereby render it useless for instruction in matters of fact and morality.
As the modern spokes-network of free information exchange and thought circulation, it should come as no surprise that the internet is full of deep, dark corners. Not literally – nothing can be full of corners, and certainly not if all of them are to be deep. It is more akin to a lovely city that invites you in with its lure of cosmopolitan street cars, gastronomy and architecture. It sounds great, but once you’re inside it can no longer conceal its ominous back alleys, swarms of desperate and evil citizens, suspiciously boarded up office windows and crooked taxi drivers. All of this exists somewhat naturally with the more viable ebbs and flows of city living, rendering San Francisco as possibly the greatest tourist trap ever concocted.
Michael was a good friend of mine but he was a strange kid. We hung out all the time at school. We were in year four now and had been friends since the first grade, but I still didn't know much about him. Whenever I asked him about his background or his family he would just avoid the topic. But that was okay, we were kids and all we wanted to do was play Mario Kart anyway.
Most of the kids caught the bus home after school, but some would get picked up in their parents' car. Michael was different. Most afternoons his dad came in a red semi-trailer. The semi would sit there parked on the street and Michael's dad never got out. You couldn't see him through the windows either. They were perfect mirrors, and all you could see in them were the street and the trees.
Strolling down the main street of City Laissez-Faire browsing for goods and services to purchase, a friend and myself began to question the free market in which we are actors. We wanted to understand the goal that Coca-Cola seeks. Certainly, profit is regarded as the objective of any capitalist enterprise. But when profit is limitless, what then is the endpoint?
I once saw some kind of promotional documentary about Coca-Cola, and a spokesperson proudly announced that if you put all the Coca-Cola bottles and cans ever purchased end to end, they would reach to the moon and back some number of times. And this, I think, hints at Coca-Cola’s true objective. The world is to be Coca-Cola, and it will reside where Earth once was. Its face and its heart. And the sun too will be Coca-Cola.
The end of the world is about an hour and fifteen minutes away. That’s when they say the sun is going to burn us up. There’s some crazy people outside robbing banks and looting, without realising that for the first time ever money and material goods are useless. The sensible people are busy fucking.
1. Earlier today I walked around outside for a while and asked a few girls if they wanted to fuck. They all said “no way” so I gave up.
2. Then I went home and tried to think about the good times. But that was too laboured.
3. So now I’m watching Seinfeld episodes on DVD, which I think is a pleasant way to kill the time.
I pat my faithful companion, Harry, on the head. “Well this is it Harry,” I say. He’s not bothered. He’s an old boy now.
Born in Newcastle, England in 1951, Gordon Matthew Sumner, or “Sting”, holds a reputation as one of the most articulate songwriters and talented musicians in the world. Sting performed for a decade-long tenure with phenomenal rock trio, “The Police”, as its bass player and lead vocalist. A man of striking good looks and remarkable intelligence, Sting then went on to pursue an illustrious solo music career. He has also starred in many films and is recognised by the public for his environmental activism and determined stance against world poverty. Sting’s success is also reflected in his personal life. He is married to film producer, Trudie Styler, and even owns a Jacobian castle in Wiltshire.
The world is my oyster.
This is the opening line to a song from Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s 1984 album “Welcome to the Pleasuredome”. If you asked me, I would have no idea how any of the songs from the album go aside from the hit singles it spawned: “Relax (Don’t Do It)” and “Two Tribes”. However, that brief monologue that precedes a period of maniacal laughter similar to the jammy part of that Pink Floyd song off “Dark Side...” (the one whose name eludes me) is I believe forever etched in my memory.
Way back when in the mid 1990s the family used to get all fed up with the throes of suburban life in Sydney and take off on journeys to our caravan in a great little spot near Bawley Point.
I’ve learnt a few lessons in my time. You know, those singular insights that change the way you see everything and stay with you for the rest of your life. One of those great lessons has been gradually occurring to me for a while now, stirring in books I’ve been reading and casting reflections of itself in my thoughts. But now in recent days those stirrings and reflections have found their form in a solid idea. And since I’ve put this lesson into practice I’ve watched my life change around me. As if in an exaggerated response to the new lesson my life has begun to unpack itself before my eyes, like in a nature documentary where the footage of the blossoming flower is sped up.
Everything appeared to adopt a transparent glaze, like as if I were viewing my surroundings through glass. Mum, the shopping trolley, and the table and chairs of the coffee shop all obscured behind the scope of a thick lens. Now–everything appeared in double. And then without leaving a moment to reflect, the entire scene fell away, and to my intense horror I found that reality was merely an illusion lifted! This appearance came to me as if in waking violently from a pleasant dream, and with all the shock of a sudden and unnatural incursion of night upon day. With heart wholly sunken to my gut, I beheld the true surroundings which represented to me the likeness of inside a demon’s cauldron!
Branson, who was in good health at the age of 56, chose to give up a life of hot air balloons and speedboats of the present, to take on new challenges in the future.