To be alive is to feel a daily invasion of crippling pain and horror, a river of misery, both wide and all-inclusive, destroying everything in its path, forever and always. Whatever fleeting moment of hope greets you at the beginning of a new day is immediately destroyed either by remembering the sorrows of the past, which never go away but merely accumulate into a burden so powerful that breathing itself becomes a wretched bother, or by the inoperable tumor that is the presence of other people–a cavalry of buffoons, dunces, halfwits, cretins, fools, dolts and imbeciles whose very lives are warts on the asshole of existence and who will stop at nothing to take whatever strength you have left to remain sentient and carve it out of your body–as if physically, with a meat cleaver–and grind that residual faith into a pulp so fine it is obliterated instantaneously like dust being blown from an unguarded hand in the midst of a powerful gale. Even love is defined only by its absence, either by the literal loss of it, or by the expectation that it will one day–inevitably–exit hastily and without meaning. Everything dies. Rocks and dirt will outlast even the best among us because all of this is for nothing. From the moment you are born until the second you die, life is simply a long, dull lesson in how everything you’ve ever cared about will be destroyed by time. But when everything is broken, when it’s squashed in the mud and left to die in some murky wood, we’ll still have Jeff Koons. There will always be Jeff Koons. Here is a video of Seth Meyers interviewing Jeff Koons.