Meaning is just a game we play with words…

Meaning is just a game we play with words; a mere symbolic manipulation of the intrinsic curvature and self-inflected logical spaces of language, information and complexity that we inhabit and that – equally, if not more so – inhabit us. If we were for even a moment able to cast aside the base psychological narcissism we all treasure so dearly we might even be able to perceive that all of this form and flower of historical significance or transient experience is not so much the coming to exist or passing away of any individual brilliance or wonder and embodied sentience so much as it is the simultaneous confluence and diffusion of autonomously self-propagating information and energy-processing systems in and as or through which any one of us is but a transmission medium, a node in a network and at base only a steely, meaningless link in the vast and unbroken chain of all creation. We are that moving shockwave of Cosmological inception and in every sense it is also us; this means nothing beyond what we assert it to and all our knowledge is only so much dust and emptiness.

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