This is a meditation on being tired.
Sometimes you don't feel a hundred percent. You may not even feel sixty-five percent. If you were on the Starship Enterprise, Chief Engineer Scotty would be talking some shit about how he's giving it all he's got, but the antimatter containment vessel cannae take na more. And your spirit is willing, like Captain Kirk was, to just zip down there in the elevator and slap someone until shit got done. But your antimatter IS running low, and you don't even have enough energy to go to the Commissary to pick up a rotisserie chicken and a salad for dinner. You slump in your command chair, Captain Limp-Dick, staring at the main screen as a thousand Klingon ships de-cloak in front of you. Warp 9, you think. Set a course for fuck this shit!
But fatigue is a product of civilization, isn't it? It's not like deer or rabbits or antelope have the luxury.
I know I can smell that mountain lion up in those rocks up there, but man it's just been a bitch of a day. I don't feel like running. I'm just gonna eat a plate of nachos and see if the new season of Sherlock Holmes is on Netflix.
No, they catch one scent, and they're hoofing it. And while they're running, they're praying to the God of Deer or their Antelope Gods or whatever: "Oh Lord, please let me run faster than this fucking cat."
Truth is, Nature is red in tooth and claw. The universe is profoundly indifferent to your fate. Whatever happens, happens as a result of your navigation and your power, and whether you got that lazy Scotsman to get off his ass and load the dilithium crystals into the main reactor. Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean the enemies aren't plotting to cut you off: sloth, procrastination, indulgence... just to name a few enemies who, like the Klingons, cloak themselves.
So my people, as the Klingons get closer, and the mountain lion screams from the rocks above, I recommend you get on up and move your ship. Fuck your fatigue. Do you want to live? You might want to pray to your Antelope Gods.
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