Finity

Seeing a friend off at the train station it occurs to me that there’s a last time for everything. This is the last time I’ll see my friend off, for instance. At least, while I’m standing in this position, wearing these shoes. The next time won’t be the same, because the configuration of elements will be different. An event, after all, is defined by the orientation of its component parts as much as anything. And it’s a good thing too, isn’t it? To repeat something endlessly is to rob it of meaning… or to create a religion.

So, an end to some activities is clearly desirable. It’s for this reason that we actively avoid people after having delivered our goodbyes. To chance upon them a few minutes later would be nothing less than bad form.

“I… I thought you were headed out,” you would say.

“Oh! I was, but I forgot something in here, so I had to come back.” Is that defiance in their eyes? It is! They have played you for a fool, having vampirically slurped of your farewell sentiment just moments before.

“Hm. Okay. Well, bye again.” Only this time you’re emotionally depleted, and forever suspicious. Needless to say, the rule of thumb is that if you see the person you’ve said goodbye to coming toward you from across a parking lot, the best thing you can do is to duck between two cars and crawl the opposite way. If they corner you then pull your sweater over your head and mug them brutally. Try to speak with a foreign accent to throw them off your trail. And remember that you wouldn’t be forced into assault if you’d made sure that all your goodbyes were final.

On the other hand, sometimes we’re limited by ends, and it’s not even the grand events I refer to, but rather the insignificant exercises. These minuscule activities, though they may never be emblazoned in the tapestry of our memory, have their own lifespans just the same. For example, this may be the last time I’ll ever stand in that corner of the room. True, I may yet spend a lot of time in corners, but never that one. I’ll never see things from quite that angle again. Never. And it’s that eventuality that suffocates me. The ends are all around me, like a muted choir: This is the last time a butterfly will fly down my shirt, the last time I’ll almost choke on a marble, the last time I’ll ever itch that particular spot on my arm.

This is a life of infinite deaths. I imagine my life as a timeline, stretched out like the spool of a pianola. On this timeline are parallel bars that denote the beginnings and the ends of every activity I’ll ever participate in throughout my life’s span. Everything is recorded in the context of this timeline as follows:

1970-2015: scratched back of left hand with right hand

It’s true: sometimes I can almost see the termination dates. But why should I stop in 2015? Is that when I’ll lose one of my hands while recklessly mucking about with a push mower? Or perhaps it’s not just my own fate, but everything that comes to a halt in 2015. No? Just the left-hand-scratching? Well then I’d better enjoy it while I can.

Or, it occurs to me, maybe I should cease scratching my left hand ahead of schedule. Maybe I should fuck with the timeline by scratching my foot when my hand itches. Thus shall I free myself from predetermination, by forever doing things I shouldn’t want to do, intentionally. Just to throw Them off. A hasty addendum would be necessary just to straighten out the mess:

2004: last stood in the corner of the room seriously

2004-2015: continued to stand in the corner of the room frivolously, just to throw off the timeline

These thoughts are a great burden to me, obviously. To wit: if there must be an end to everything, then does it not follow that there must also be a last time for me to think these very thoughts? Not if I can help it! I am resolved to think on them unto eternity, for the sake of free will. It’s a trap either way, I realize that. Yet if this is the last time I realize it then They will have won before I’ve even finished.

Related Tales

» “What the Other Hand Is Doing” (26 of Apr, 2003)
» “Terminal II” (03 of Apr, 2003)
» “Terminal” (31 of Mar, 2003)