Let me preface this by saying that today's column is mostly about nothing, which I guess is true about most of my columns, even the ones that aren't about Seinfeld. But anyway:
The other day I went and watched that movie Gravity — in 3D, nonetheless. It is fantastic. If you're unfamiliar, a synopsis of the plot: Some astronauts in space do space stuff, some other space stuff happens, then the astronauts have to do more space stuff and then it ends. That's the least spoiler-y way to describe it, I think. But philosophically this description leaves something to be desired.
Gravity no doubt has secret themes. Those rooted in religion will find the juxtaposition of the grandness of outer space and the minisculeness of humans compelling and comforting (much like my wife did), while those who've not accepted Jesus Christ will find it overwhelming and possibly even shattering (like I did).
I've always found the vastness of space to be profound. (These pictures are just unreal.)
Sometimes I just look at the moon and it makes me feel like what the fuck, man. It makes me feel like I couldn't be any more insignificant, like nothing I've ever done or ever will do will have any sort of impact on anything. One time something I wrote was tweeted by Questlove. And I saw it and was like, “Oh fuck!” Like, I get legitimately excited about that. Do you even know how big the universe is, or at least that there are so many other stars and planets and celestial bodies and so on? And I'm here in front of a computer like a jackass excited about a tweet that I wasn't even tagged in.
Like, why am I here? What am I doing? What are you doing? What's anyone doing? Does any of this matter? It can't possibly matter to very many people, and even if it matters to all the people, what about the rest of the solar system or the rest of the galaxy or, fuck, Mars even? I don't know. I'm not sure. I'm not sure anything. Like, not one single thing.
There are a couple of parts in the movie where the grizzled man astronaut, played by the devastatingly charming George Clooney, is floating around listening to music in his suit. He's listening to Hank Williams Jr.'s “Angels Are Hard To Find” which ostensibly is about a woman but can be applied to basically anything else. It was just a tiny part of a gigantic movie, but it was entirely moving. It was so peaceful and terrifying. I loved it.
Go watch Gravity. And go listen to music. And then just be. Because you don't know anything. And neither do I.
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