If you erase someone’s longstanding identity while retaining the intellect, do you destroy the person? When everything that you once had known and loved is dead and in the past. Something is telling you that your current silly games are also coming to a close. When your poor old father nightly returns from the dead all dressed up and young. It’s likely that in the morning your are due to be hung.
To be very observant, but highly impressionable. Too easily influenced by the rhetoric of others yet equally strong willed and reluctant to accommodate change for its own sake alone. Highly sensitive to a fault. Prone to engaging in self-inspired fantasy as opposed to being carried along by its everyday social opposite known as collective reality. An image of self suggesting a mundane personality when experience over the long haul time and again proves the exception. Spoiled by a persistent tendency to morbid self-attention. A self-idolator to the reckoning of most others. An outcast!
Not too much in the way of desire to communicate with my fellow species. They see, to preoccupied with frivolous departures of ignoring problems, or creating more of them. It seems impossible to communicate with them. The epitome of this culture is the nested complaint ever lurking within the non-committal utterance. That makes my tendency to be outspoken equally tedious and dangerous. Little ideas like the continual series of problems that seem to crop up are staged not happenstance. Or, that one’s patterns are formed by experience at an early age and it takes the rest of your life to sort through them.
If you tune out the plethora of the latest sports program extravaganzas and zero out the unwinnably perfect game of what you owe on paper to date you have a sensation of uneasiness. A sense of lingering indecision as to what is truly a human inclination leading towards the longevity of survival? And factor that accompanying frivolous landslide of acquired obsessions that prevent one from decidedly acting upon digging out the same? What is left?
And increasingly, like too many others, a captive of the unrelenting mass media dialogue of continued national angst that seems reliably lined up like a long railroad train passing through your daily outlook. And as usual, the different events don’t fit together as one might expect they should? Leaving the feeling that the big ‘WE’ are once again being artfully played like a player piano. Since so many are groomed to depend upon others for the wind shift of their mental outlook. it casts doubt upon any of these events as being merely what they seem.
What is it to be an American? That universal species that place lofty ideals that they never intend to follow in the daily prosecution of their actual lives but feel comforted by in that illusory dream state called the American Dream. And then castigate those who don’t buy in. Don’t defend yourself from slander or scorn! Take the punch from another stranger and don’t complain. If one of you own is killed then just shrug your shoulders and move on after first welcoming the killer back into the human race as just one of your own who just does not know it yet. That very same flypaper also known as the USS Amistad!
You fall in love with the promise of it while equally end up becoming uncomfortable with its delivery. And then grow tired within an hour or two of having to acclimate yourself to its persistent presence. This weight of responsibility playing the part of the 800 point gorilla constantly taking a dump in front of your TV at prime time. “Boom, boom, boom, where is the relief of something new?” Do you ever wonder why there are so many commercials for prescription drugs? Fight or Flight? Except where is there to go but for the mattress or the couch?
The only true solution to all this is the oblivion to this empty promise resting within the palm of your hand swallowing all your attention within its two-inch by four inch screen size coffin. You will never know the subtlety of another soul because they have all been collected by some unseeable data storage bank in Utah long ago. You are not a number! You are an anachronism. Your arms, feet and abdomen are not so buff as the current collective of articulated sets of industrial robots trained to the task of creating next year’s model. There are several billion biological clones of you out there to draw upon as a labor force who will always do the same work you do but for cheaper. The only acceptable option is to accept more of the same and just give up!
So dream the dream! And just keep on downloading!