Useful For Measuring

I love to think but some things I just can’t seem to work out. Like singularity.
I get being single as it is a state in which I exist. Not a state like California but a being kind of state.
I’m single. Unmarried. Somewhat unique. Especially never to have been married and especially never to have had children. There is a difference between me and most others I know. I have an individuality that is distinctive insomuch as it distinguishes me from the norm.
But I don’t claim to be one dimensional.
(italics for Oxford interpretations)
(and some for my own emphasis — like the above “being” and “Oxford”)
But how does matter become infinitely dense?
How is it measured if it can go on and on without limit — falling in on itself
in cosmic singularity?
Did I get that right?
How small is the smallest forever small?
How dense is the densest forever denseness?
Where is this point in that same infinite equation where something can go on forever but a point can still be found where it can be determined that something that is used for measuring can cease to be useful for measuring?
I’m confused.
Actually, I’m jealous that anyone can even come up with this stuff and it can make me feel really dumb.
I’m less sure why it matters.
But I do know, that I just love to know
the truest truth about everything.
Some things seem like a pure waste of time.
Like fighting over why or why not someone deserves to be impeached.
Especially someone so infinitesimally small in the grander scheme of things.
As if it will really matter much when matter finally completely falls in on itself.
But that might be a long way off.
And those who can’t live to infinity or beyond will, by then, be long gone.
By the looks of things, the rapidity of the ever expanding capacity by which we all seem to be able to not care about matters that matter the most beyond matter that becomes to dense to comprehend —
we’re all going down a black hole or at least to the event horizon
to look into the abyss.


Einstein's note on happiness

“A calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness”


No One Else

Maybe it’s the constant climbing or
the mountains of things to clear up
never ceasing increasing
that interfere with getting up more cheerful
minute by minute
day by day
year after year
decades long
a century might be thwarted by the toil in there mounting

It might be that when no one else is doing it
a thing can seem too lonely
like caring about animals
or the destruction of their habitats
and everyone is going on
like nothing bad is happening
There is no synergy for single thinking
except for how two thoughts might mingle

There isn’t too much that can’t be done
and much that can’t be undone either
it’s just no fun
The piles do seem high
but they’ve been scaled before in
record time
What’s the crime
of putting things off
another day — the dishes
week — the bathtub
month — the weeds
year — a visit
decade — better eating
century — it’s too late
forever — is where we hope to go

What’s the harm of never bothering
there was no happy making here
And not enough was known
to help poor
Karen Carpenter

Now we do

The Lead Sister sang her last song
and maybe the fat lady too