When it comes down to it, maybe faith is just a decision like any other. And perhaps God is the search itself.”

—— Kurt Vile

Nothing mattering allows us to create our own meanings. Stories of truth, love, drugs, rock and roll, money, chickens, and eggs, walruses – all stories, sure, so you better pick the ones that really matter. Which stories really matter?

I open the Starbucks app for the 4th time today, a day that feels like it’s lasted a week. Time does this, when I’m strange. It wiggles and wobbles and sometimes it stops entirely. I love that. I love thinking about time as simply another story, one we all believe collectively for so long that it becomes truth.

And which is more important, really? The truth, or the story one tells about the truth?