Allocate the harvest and Sacrifice the Living.

The sun hates the moon. It takes its time off and turns it into splendor.

I hit a curb today... Again. In my nice car, this time, too. I have to get it realigned, and I hopefully didn't crack the axle like I did the first time. In my Buick.

Whatever. I'll pay for it and suffer for it, like usual. That's what mistakes are made for. They're made for lessons. Anyway, I digress.

Digress unto what though? Was there really a central theme? No, Not really. I would like to think there was. But is there really a central theme to any of life? Or undercurrents, like religion. And subplots, like relationships and jobs and everything we think is central.

Well, yea, I guess there is. It's morbid though. It's death. That's the central theme. That's what we're living for: death. All religions, all actualizations, revolve around the theme of making whatever is after our death all the better--make the world better so that all your shit's in heaven or in the next life for the next person to inhabit your soul, to wear your pants, etcetera etcetera. Death is our ultimate goal, and y'know why? Because it's scary and it's unavoidable. So we try and make it as nice as we possibly can.

But what if we could live forever? Not like the Highlander, where they can die by another Highlander, or Elves in the Lord of the Rings, that can get killed, but rather, unable to die by any means. As in, indestructible. As in, you're here and you always will be. What great burden would that be? 1000 years with a beard, then 2000 clean-shaven. That's a lot of razors. That's a lot of time. A lot of technology. A lot of baseball. I'd get all the supposed-to-kill-you things out of the way.

I'd drop a toaster in the tub. Then jump out of an airplane and not deploy my parachute. Then put my head in a railroad track. Would the train derail? Probably.

But then what purpose would I serve?

My purpose is to die. And to help those that are afraid, less afraid. To make life a little better for others, even if it means making it a little worse for myself. I don't exist.

So praise God the father for he is reality. And he controls death! Controlling Purpose! LA ILLAHA IL ALLAHU!