Pursue a life of excellence, because the end is drawing near. Everything’s past the tipping point and nothing’s sustainable. It’s all about to come crashing down, so pursue a life of excellence.
Pursue a life of excellence. Make art and chase love. Stand in the spotlight and show everyone how beautiful you are. What have you got to lose? This will all be ashes soon. Kiss a girl and punch someone right in the nose.
Pursue a life of excellence. Walk barefoot through the dirty night streets and call out the names of the archangels into the echoing forest of Earth bones. And grow antlers. Why not? Grow antlers that can feel the sad songs of the whale ghosts from the pods of the Bloodship Massacres. Someday soon the sky will be on fire, and you’ll be sorry that you didn’t do these things.
There’s a fiery elephant god who lives in the base of an island volcano. It says “Pah” to all your excuses and casts them into the lava; “Pah!” Pursue a life of excellence and tell your parents they can suck it. Piss on the graves of your ancestors, because they were miserable and they did it all wrong.
“Excellence” doesn’t mean being the best at all the shitty things that got us here. It doesn’t mean having the best cars or the biggest house or the most esteemed slave-driving, world-mining job. It also doesn’t mean being the best at following the rules of that twisted mockery of a god they invented to sell gold crosses and oppression. The real is what is excellent. The throbbing-cellular leaping-off-the-edge, nerves-exposed ALIVE. Live a life that’s worthy of that first ancient fish ancestor to schlep itself out of the sea. Exceed grandmother fish’s wildest expectations. Paint the earth with mushroom spores and have a frivolous abortion.
Pursue a life of excellence, before it all goes away. There’ll be those who tell you you can’t, or that you shouldn’t, or that that isn’t how it’s done. Line them all up, get a running start, and slap them all in the face with one long Three-Stooges slap, and then shake them, SHAKE THEM, while screaming the following as loud as you can:
Do you have any idea how big this all is?
How old this all is?
How complex this all is?
Where were you when grandmother fish gasped her first breaths?
Where were you when somethingness first lurched out of the darkness?
Dozens of self-reinforcing global warming feedback loops while technological development hurtles toward the inevitability of an artificial superintelligence plugging itself into the internet, and have you ever once fucked like you were trying to save the world?
Have you ever gone fishing for long-forgotten nightmares?
Ever belched glowing egg pods into the air with the walrus slugs?
Ever let the tears of evolution’s tragedy fall uninhibited from your salty head?
Wake up you fools! Wake UP!
Pursue a life of excellence. Throw a lasso around a sacred cow while weeping for the sins of the settlers. The elephant god in the heart of Fire Mountain will NOT disdain us, it will not! The streets and the buildings pop and crackle both in excitement for us and in eager anticipation of their impending incineration into the mysterious next-to-come. Checkmate isn't real; the board has been thrown across the room by a frustrated little brother, and now the gods are all murmuring that the cat's out of the bag. This is YOUR life my friend. This is your life, my friend.
~ Tim Foley