Without Rose Colored Glasses: Thoughts on Miracle Michael and The Daily Rice

Of Plato’s many contributions, the Great Chain of Being is decidedly one of my favorites. In short, it states that our universe was created by a generous, loving God who filled it to the brim with creation. Furthermore, and this is where a bit of intellectual friction may arise, everything that can exist must exist. Therefore, there is no possibility of gaps in the ascending scale which begins with the most fundamental beings such as dust particles and stones, all the way to the highest, most glorious beings such as man and God (who rests comfortably at the apex of the Great Chain).

*This theory was challenged and all but abandoned by thinkers of the 18th century, who found it irreconcilable with their notions of evolutionary progress.

And get ready for the absurd, as I equate the Daily Rice, a vainglorious celebration of mediocrity and superfluous romanticizing of my collegiate existence, with Plato’s finest cosmological conception of being...

If the Great Chain of Being applies to the Daily Rice (which it does not, but let’s pretend), then everything that can exist must exist. I’m in no position to state what types of posts are at the highest level and which are at the lowest, but it’s safe to say much ground has been covered (in the last 4 months). From time to time, my good friend Casey, acerbic critic of the Michael condition (again, read post modern, existential, amorous, detached from the little thing known as reality), has contributed to the Daily Rice. By contributed I mean he’s wrote me emails, which I capriciously post without permission, my misguided vanity reaching zenith, harboring false illusions that any other soul would care what was written to me. Graphomania aside, the Daily Rice is beginning to resemble an egotistical anthology of collected works.

But Casey’s emails are the creme de la creme of the Daily Rice, fleeting sparks of brilliance that undoubtedly rest at the apex of the Great Chain. This comes from many things, the most simple of which is the fact that Casey is much smarter than me, and is a much better writer (though I do NOT consider myself a writer, as I keep telling people over and over... the Daily Rice is the most writing, if it can be called that, I’ve ever done in my entire life).

The flirtation with isolationism and the meaningless of it all, which blossomed in the early winter of 2000, manifested itself in the form of an ill-fated solo camping trip. Casey has, at long last, provided the much sought after narrative of the event. Though tainted by nostalgia, it’s a refreshing look at those days from a young man, who unlike myself, saw life without rose colored glasses, which is to say he was in touch with that little thing known as reality.