h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

 Sometimes, if rarely, we all end up in the places we had least expected to find ourselves. This, then, is day one of this journal of mine and i hope the coming pages offer some hope to anyone who cares to waste their time and effort in reading them.
I do not profess to be a prophet of any kind, nor would i want to be such a man/woman/it/thing as to claim i that i am.
And here i find myself, alone amongst the loneliness of civilisation. Isnt funny how, even though we are surrounded by a million trillion (not sure of the precise figures) people, we can consider ourselves alone. I am not, despite previous statements, alone. I have love. And on this, a sunny 30 April 1999, i sit by the window listening to the birds of the earth singing their songs and, for a while at least, am contented by the fact that god (a concept which i could spend pages and pages plotting my opinion about, and probably will) has singularly failed to do any of it. Being, as i believe we are, a happy error makes life worth living. That we probably only get one chance means it is worth having these moments of contemplation and admiring the world into which we have inexcusably forced our way.
Take these moments to stop and let your mind drift into realms of flight. Read, meditate, nap, pass wind slowly and effortlessly through the fabric of your pants into the passing of the world, listen to earth breathing, let your imagination sing, let the muscles of your brain that normally go unused flex and test their water. Some people call it praying, but praying is singing someone else's tune, some people may call it other things. These moments of introspection, these seconds that can seem like hours of tranquility, keep us alive. No matter what your belief, no matter what your faith, it is worth questioning your opinions on a regular basis, to keep them fresh.
Keep them intune with today. Never assume you have all the answers.

You have caught me in a tranquil mood today, maybe next time will be different. Maybe I'll rant and rave, maybe I'll sing depression, maybe I'll just sing.

Until then, let the monkey write his infinite words in your heart.
And I look forward to the future until dinnertime, when i shall eat some spaghetti. Maybe.