This is the End

June3, 2026 8:33 pm

The sun, close to solstice, casts shadows on the rock sidewalk I laid all those years ago. Do you have any idea what is happening? No one reads my scribblings – except the AI bots that harvest my human angst and convert it into a machine Large Language Model used to convince you that a computer has human capabilities.

Don’t be deceived, the imposter will never suffer like a human, it will never understand the futility of life, it will never experience the thought of mortality. It was never alive – it cannot understand the finality of death. But you, pawns of the legion of deceivers now in control – you, passive spectators living through your screens do not see the approaching destruction. All your songs, all your art created by an algorithm that never loved- never suffered – never grasped the confusion of life.

We are the future extinctions, and we don’t see it coming. Would the last human please turn out the lights and say a final prayer to a God that never existed but who – being a product of our minds, had our best interests at heart – unlike the cold, frigid qubits that will ultimately direct our lives and our futures.

Shadowlands

June16, 2026 7:24am

Each day a question mark…. how long will it continue. Reality resolves into the hard edges of the shadowlands in which we live. Aging, illness, decline ever more in the fore. I can’t do the things I once could; I long to be able to work hard all day – but that time is past and I must retreat into rest.

Faced with weakness and death and knowing no escape, we draft our Gods to sally forth and confront our terrors. All-powerful, they are not subject to the ravages afflicting mortals. We use them to leverage our way out of the mire of time and fate and into the realm of the immortals.

If only…. if only we could accept our limits, our short lives and be content. Who wants the burden of eternity anyway – this is boring as it is. When the time comes and it is closer, I will have momentary regret, and the panic of the trapped but at last the peace of letting go.

8:56am ………..

This quote is mis-attributed to Lenin:

“There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.”

The closest quote that is correctly attributed comes from Mexican poet Homero Aridjis in “Sefarad, 1492”.

“There are centuries in which nothing happens
and years in which centuries pass.” – Homero Aridjis