The Infinitesimal

in·fin·i·tes·i·mal

noun\(ˌ)in-ˌfi-nə-ˈte-sə-məl, -zə-məl\ : taking on values arbitrarily close to but greater than zero

Perfection is the most abused misnomer. Life ain't about connecting, it's about non-connecting. It's about novelty. Life is an argument you don't believe in. This is an argument I don't believe in, but I'm still going to state it because I won't know if I disagree until I can read it. See what I did there. I'm playing the devil's advocate for myself 24 hours a day. I'm trying to figure out who I am. So I can better act my role. Trying to figure out who you are is like trying to define the color blue. How do you describe it to the blind when you can't compare it to the sea.

Something that is alive cannot be defined, only alluded to. An alive thing is in motion. When I'm mad I'm red, when I'm sad I'm blue. We're all moving targets, we have no definition. By the time you jot down what we are, we're something else entirely. How do you define a color, I'll tell you how. What's your a favorite color? Some color that has repeated itself in your past again and again while you had good experiences. It's all a game of association. For the money-loving it's green. For the tree-hugging it's green. For the sun-seeking it's yellow. It's always rooted in something intangible. It's heightened by your hopes and tempered in nostalgia. Dreams and memories become virtually indiscernible with time. My favorite color's translucent red. I like the fun ways light seeps through it, and the way it bleeds. My favourite color's Olga, pale with a bit of red and bushy eyebrows of brown.

And this all sounds like hypnotic indifference but I'm getting at something. I don't have an opinion or a stance. I like good. I'm biased, because I've led a good life. Life is about the difficulty and novelty and obscurity. 100 years of stress makes a kiss 100 years as sweet. Distance makes the heart grow fonder someone said. If that's the case, isolation is the key. You want some isolation. "I need some space," is a cliche people in relationships say. I need some fucking space. If you were attached at my hip, we'd eventually glue together into one entity. You know what happens next? We're used to it. We're used to each other. The novelty is lost. Then we become complacent and actions become predictable and commonplace. Same ol' same ol'. You and I are one and the same and it's no longer interesting, it's masturbation.

But when there are differences, there is fun. Who wants a wife they never fear will leave them? You want a wife ideally that's gonna fuck someone else, you know, give you an adrenaline rush! Love is a dish best served cold. Keep you teetering on the edge with an undercurrent of emotion there as a safety net. Give me love and give me space. Kissing and physicality isn't the fun part, they're not novel. They're far too commonplace to be novel. They're just the things you can fall back on when relaxation is required. Those intimate moments where you engage in emotional gluttony can drive you, and help you aspire, so you can pretend that the end's the fun part but the real fun part's the ride along the way. The real fun part's the tumultuous ride and the slow revelation of truth. Maybe that's why it's nice to see someone disrobe, or see some disgraced politician. It's something you know inside but we all wait for someone to say the emperor has no clothes.

This whole thing's a mess but I managed to derive a point from it. I think that's what people want, a slow drip of novelty. I don't know if the universe is expanding, but I think that analogy is commonplace and persistent because it implies an endless manifestation of interesting things that will in turn keep their interest. People want novelty and to suspend their disbelief, so they get immersed in whatever role makes them feel important because that's a surefire way of carrying on. The merit of those actions don't matter, if they created a bubble beyond influence, impervious to reason. The farther you stray from coping mechanisms in life, though, the harder to suspend disbelief and enjoy life. One great joy is truth, you know, pointing out bubbles. But most people don't like it when you burst their bubble.

The infinitesimal, whatever the fuck that actually means, is less than literal at heart. It's an imagined state of being, a beacon, an aspiration to the likes of Superman, an impossible standard. That's because it's a standard that cannot be measured or quantified. It's still a game, the final frontier to where some solace can still be contrived. The point isn't the destination but seeing how far you can go without reaching it.