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Sunday. Here. Now. Why?

 It's Sunday morning and I want to be somewhere else, in another time. I suppose that's the impetus for most fiction writers. They all imagine other places and times to be theirs, and that they are just as comfortable, just as amenable to their own peculiarities - maybe more - than their current lives. Which idea is, of course, absurd; today is always the most comfortable time. The past is full of ignorance and cruelty - even just yesterday.

I imagined going to the church next door, stoned out of my mind, so I might lapse into singing and praising Jesus as if I were one of them, which I once was, and it would be like 1983. Is that because I want to go back in time, or because I want to feel like part of a group? Do I really want an instant group of sorta-friends? They will love and support you, be your buddy, "go there" if necessary - unless you stop attending the church and toeing the line. This is not a condemnation of religion (not yet); they're no different than work-mates or hobbyists or fans or any other cult-members. People don't consider themselves part of an exclusive dogmatic clique, but almost everyone is, at some point in their lives. Most of us stay in at least one of those self-congratulatory circles for life.

But here I am, in today - the best of all possible worlds, right? Can I really trust that my own deeply-held beliefs (whatever those might be) would bring about the best-possible present or future? On the face of it, it seems unlikely that any one person could possibly be even three-quarters 'correct' in their assessment of all the world's issues and a solution that accommodates everyone, the one that assures the best future outcome. First, there's literally no way to choose the best future for everyone. There is no Star Trek future where every living human has the same exact opportunities and outcomes, just like not every fish, lion or puppy dog has the same life experience. It's just not the way Nature works.

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