Friday, March 13, 2026
Stories change, but reality doesn’t. Even if you didn’t mean to, you did. Even if you didn’t want to, you did. Even if you wanted to, you did. Even if you forgot, you did. Excuses make for nothing. We seem to slip in and out of a sense of control. How? By changing the story. You don’t control what’s happening by explaining it. Slapping on a label on never satisfies me. Intention and accident are mere labels after the fact. It essentially has already happened. “Making up your mind” is delusional storytelling. If it slips your mind, it still happens. You see? Intentionally, unintentionally, premeditated, calculated, thoughtful—these are all labels of outsmarting what is happening, and how can we outsmart what is?
Action, when the moment arises, is nothing but a fart. If you mean to fart, or if it just happens, or if somebody else did it—what does it matter? Sometimes it feels intended or thoughtful. Others, like God intervened, or that it was a surprise. Others, it feels “it slipped” between your cheeks or through the cracks. Others, it came out of “nowhere.” Others, it was just a mysterious “force.”
A story makes it seem like it can come from multiple sources, have multiple reasons, or even seem random, attacking, unfortunate, or miraculous. But the mind is a label maker, and reality is as slick as Teflon and as unreasonable as a platypus. A story smells suspiciously late, like “controlling the universe.” My favorite stench is stories about God. Who cares how it slips out? [Sh]It just happens. Who you gonna blame? Do you want to take credit? Be my guest, but something still stinks.