THE BLOG OF DISQUIET :Qweir Notions,an uncommonplace-book from the Armpit of Diogenes, binge-thinker jottings since2008.
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
It is impossible to know
whether life is like a bad movie - a nice emptiness when it's over -
or whether, compared with death,
life even as an untouchable or refugee is like skipping in a field of clover.
I worry about this, sometimes. More specifically, I worry that something that I would recognize as my consciousness would come into being after my death to start the whole crapfest again. Does that make sense to anyone? Not reincarnation, per se, but a new brain that is so closely configured to my present one, that it's consciousness could be considered that which is me? Without the previous memories, and yet it is my vision, through new eyes, that sees the world again, and all it's banality and horror?
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Why the doubt, suddenly?
All is doubt and doubtful. My own conviction about the nullity of death is only belief...
I worry about this, sometimes. More specifically, I worry that something that I would recognize as my consciousness would come into being after my death to start the whole crapfest again. Does that make sense to anyone? Not reincarnation, per se, but a new brain that is so closely configured to my present one, that it's consciousness could be considered that which is me? Without the previous memories, and yet it is my vision, through new eyes, that sees the world again, and all it's banality and horror?
Fuck. I hate having a vivid imagination....
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