The End of Everything

My studio is right next to the office of this guy who spends a lot of time at a drafting table, drawing pictures of rivers.  The guy doesn't talk much, but he listens to music all day long, and the kind of music he likes is contemporary bluegrass--the more mandolin and dobro solos the better. I don't even know how to look up this kind of music on the internet to give you an example, but to me it all kind of sounds like, BIDDLYDIDDLYDIDDLYDIDDLY BUM BUM BUM diddlediddledliddle.  Except faster.

But this morning he played After the Gold Rush.  The whole goddamn album.  

Did I mention it's totally beautiful here right now? 74 degrees, sparkly white sunlight all over the place, a cool, undulating breeze.  Summer's almost over.

And we're all going to die!  You know that, right?  Every year, Neil Young smooshed up against the final days of summer reminds me.  I don't actually mind all that much--I mean, it's kind of nice and important feeling, actually.  I believe one of the reasons people go bonkers for autumn is we all like to be reminded, very gently, of our mortality.  It's what fuels nostalgia, everybody's favorite FEELS. 

So, I guess it's appropriate that today I'm supposed to be writing about how it's all going to end. And by "it all," I mean the Universe.  (Spoiler alert: BLACK HOLES!!!)  It's not going to be tomorrow or anything, but everything we know will eventually stop being, even Grandaddy Universe. Just FYI.

Maybe there's a good reason for everything having to end. I mean, probably there is, but I don't think even Neil Young knows why.  He just sang a little piece of it to remind us all, very gently.