12/12/12

December 12, 2012

Why do I keep marking these days? To prove I can find meaning in inanity? Or at least alliteration and pattern? Our tripled twelve is the number of tribes and apostles, of constellations and signs, of hours and months, of gates to the body. It is code for police and eavesdroppers. Though it transcends binary, it signifies governmental perfection—indicating perhaps that our overlords will be not machinic but angelic. It is the number of completion.

The world will go on, astronomers reassure us, oblivious that this is in fact a time of great personal upheaval, of interstate returns, of memory digitisation, of career crossroads, of crises and crunches, of cycle completions. NASA knows nothing of subjective apocalypse.

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