Fading of the light

A year has passed and in a few days we're going to be singing "Pange lingua gloriosi, corporis mysterium..."

I like that chant, and I like the baby in church that tried it's best to suppress it's crying when patted by the dad (so early, and it learns self-denial!) . The problem is, can we live on emotion alone? In a church, with lovely lighting and acoustic, solemn hymns, invocations of great men past, it's easy to be moved if you let yourself be. For that hour I know a good life is all that matters, and a good life is one I should live, and all I should ever need.

Then the setting changes. Could be anywhere, let's see, somewhere with loud music and lots of alcohol, could be in the midst of training a platoon or maybe a hot chick walks past. Maybe you're just lonely. Or having fun with friends. You need many other lives now. A city life. A life with fame, popularity or at the least, acceptance and/or a hot chick in your bed. And so is one ruled by thirst. And one acts to quench it.

You see, the Father couldn't read too well. It must suck to see things as a blur. I close my left eye and I'm scared sometimes because then my world is a blur. But we all know it's my eye that's screwed up, no that the molecules of the world started vibrating past the speed of light and caused eveyrhting to be a blur. THAT IS PROOF THAT YOU ARE MORTAL STUPID. By the way... when I watched Ray, I was wondering if what he dreamt about stopped at the age he turned blind... like those are the images that he has for the rest of his life. Everything else he wants to dream, he has to dream in sound. And do you really remember things like it's flooded in water, and I really touched this limb or that? For a dream yeah... definitely... but normal memory? I can't remember!