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“Everything is changing,” proclaims Eric Sanderson of The Raw Shark Texts (24).  He asserts that the word “here” is just a label for varying locations as we shift through space.  “The truth is, stillness is an idea, a dream” (24).  He describes our planet spinning on its axis in revolution around the sun, amidst stars, in misalignment and shift—therefore “here” is nothing but an idea.  “Our place in the universe, the universe itself, it all changes faster and faster by the second.  Every one of us standing on this planet, we’re all moving forwards and we’re never ever coming back” (24).  Yet, it’s through the idea of “here” that we are grounded in place.  “Here” is a means of mapping our location.  A convenience, an anchor.  We are identified through this naming of our physical space.  But, for Eric Sanderson, identity is a fickle thing—his name and life story and set of relationships are all asserted to him on sheets of paper and through flashing bulbs—he is told of Clio Aames, of a cat named Ian, of a home, of a life prior to his awakening, given directions, told to fear a conceptual shark, given a series of statements through which his Being is now defined.  He is a concept and not much more, and as a concept he is everchanging—it’s no wonder he doesn’t see the idea of “here” as all too convenient.  It’s just another label and a means of being defined.  Sounds like Eric has had enough of that.