Chaos is everything you can't stand lining up to take a shot at you when you least expect it....at the most unfair time...taking advantage of every one of your hidden vulnerabilities. Chaos doesn't care about your feelings of uniqueness....Chaos is the motherload of uniqueness. She will smash you apart and make ten-thousand things in the future that will be more unique and special. Chaos doesn't care about the fact that you feel somehow so special that you should be immortal. Chaos makes you and breaks you all the same. Chaos doesn't care that you feel yourself to be anything at all because you can think. So what? Thought and consciousness is as common as air. Why should Chaos give a damn about you because you can think/feel/dream? Especially when the intricate patterns of a snowflake are more ornate than any of your monkey ramblings. Chaos is that whisper in your ear every time you feel your pulse and realize that your life depends on the smooth functioning of a muscle. Your so called independence and free-will is shattered. Your life can be cut short by something so small and insignificant as a virus. Chaos is a walk through a dark alley full of crack-fiending knife-wielding claw shrimp...as much as it is a walk through a nice park on a sunny day. Chaos is the roaring sax-like improv tune heard in the screech of an el-train car as it lurches off the tracks and hits the street below. Chaos is the chime-like crystal resonance of shards of glass falling after being blown out of a skyscraper. Chaos is the lone lunatic who flips out in a traffic jam and proceeds to stab out every else's tires. Chaos is the voice you hear in your deepest "finding-thyself" moments telling you that it's all full of shit. Chaos is the damned police sirens across the alley going all night making you get out of bed and toss hot water on the cops standing around smoking below. Chaos is when your bad tooth decides to go supernova and you face grows to twice its normal size. Chaos is all of these things and more....
It's not that the universe is a nice place or a mean place. The universe just IS the way it is, without consideration for our feelings. It's nothing personal. It's just Chaos. You can try to philosophize all you want, but philosophy is just an attempt to escape from all the 'dark' and 'scary' parts of Chaos...i.e. the Chaos that you don't like, as opposed to the Chaos that you like. Chaos is. Bow in reverence or don't. See if She cares.
Chaos is you missing the bus/train/plane and cursing the sky for the rest of the day. Chaos is splashing red curry in your eyes and having nothing but jalapeno juice to rinse them out with. Chaos is getting stuck in the middle of a St. Patrick's Day Parade with a british flag punk t-shirt and being too drunk to run away from the green swill mob. Chaos is you and every stupid/smart thing/thought you have done/thought. Chaos has nothing to teach and there is nothing to learn. Chaos is unspiritual. Chaos is crass. Chaos is commercial. Chaos is corporate. Chaos is a certain slick marketability, sort of like Che Guevara shirts. People buy and sell Chaos to be cool and 'with it.' People wear Chaos as a cosmetic that advertizes their attention whoring egos. Chaos is television stuck on all 500 channels at once. It is your cable modem going apeshit and assassinating your coffee maker. Chaos is the feeling in the bottom of your stomach when you realize you just ran over that pigeon. Chaos is alive and well and those of you who are going around saying all kinds of crap about Her....She has this to say:
"What happens when you try to kill the buddha and she kicks the bejesus out of you?"
-Irreverend Hugh, KSC