There was a day,maybe a Tuesday,when nobody knew what anything was.
We didn't even know it was a Tuesday .
If I said to you "What's that?"
You wouldn't know. I was just making sounds as far as you could tell.
It didn't mean anything.
It wasn't until years later,if I asked again "What's that?"
You could answer.
"It's one of those things"
In the early days of making a sound and attaching it to a thing, a lot of things did not have a sound.
There wasn't a committee and no chance of camel design.
Difficult to get through your day when nobody knew what anything was.
But,years later, we've got it sorted. I ask you again "what's that?"
"It's a freaking tree"
Now we're operating at an advanced level. "Things" are getting done.
Sounds become things become words become thoughts become insults become satisfying.
What day is it?
"Tuesday"
Everything is going so well, we're building houses,inventing computers and all kinds of stupid stuff.
But what kind of tree is it?
Who cares? It's Tuesday.
There are so many words for even just one thing, and there are so many tones of voice.
When the sounds are made, it can mean the opposite of what the sound should mean.
Those olden days when you didn't know which way was up or even what was up, seem pretty good after all.
I think I realise what has gone wrong.
Sound after sound after sound for no reason.
But what to do about it?
Earplugs.
I can now sit in my house, that I gained from the utilisation of knowledge of things, in complete silence.
What's that?
The voices in my head.
That's another story.
We didn't even know it was a Tuesday .
If I said to you "What's that?"
You wouldn't know. I was just making sounds as far as you could tell.
It didn't mean anything.
It wasn't until years later,if I asked again "What's that?"
You could answer.
"It's one of those things"
In the early days of making a sound and attaching it to a thing, a lot of things did not have a sound.
There wasn't a committee and no chance of camel design.
Difficult to get through your day when nobody knew what anything was.
But,years later, we've got it sorted. I ask you again "what's that?"
"It's a freaking tree"
Now we're operating at an advanced level. "Things" are getting done.
Sounds become things become words become thoughts become insults become satisfying.
What day is it?
"Tuesday"
Everything is going so well, we're building houses,inventing computers and all kinds of stupid stuff.
But what kind of tree is it?
Who cares? It's Tuesday.
There are so many words for even just one thing, and there are so many tones of voice.
When the sounds are made, it can mean the opposite of what the sound should mean.
Those olden days when you didn't know which way was up or even what was up, seem pretty good after all.
I think I realise what has gone wrong.
Sound after sound after sound for no reason.
But what to do about it?
Earplugs.
I can now sit in my house, that I gained from the utilisation of knowledge of things, in complete silence.
What's that?
The voices in my head.
That's another story.
