Because appetite for life is endless every life must end in tragedy. Something happened today. A different awareness of sorts. Well? What awareness could you have! Well. I went to see a movie about a phony. A fool that in the end proves himself to be a hero. Or at least goes through the motions. Or, he proves that he can be a hero. Otherwise he’s just, well, a regular person.
Like most men, I expect things to be linear. Point A to point B. Some sort of logic involved. Making things easy to figure out. How could I figure out dreams that involved being in a cave with my ex-wife. Being in a setting that I would have thought not appropriate to teach children some aesthetic skill. But instead, looking at her straight down into her eyes and realizing that in some ways she had turned Chinese. Inscrutable! Little if anything to say, and certainly nothing to say to the likes of me! Well! I guess this would have gone on, one way or another. Her working in the corner over a pile of scraps and clippings. Yeah! That would have gone on a good long time had the place not started flooding. Strangers that I had never seen coming to say stupid things that people in a frenzy always do. How the Hell I ever ended up finding myself outside that situation is anybody’s guess.
People like to take your rights away. One right that I enjoy is my right of free speech. This free speech may not be pleasing to others? But it is my right! Whereas other people feel that they can impose their physicality on me and that is allowed, Being in a big box store awaiting the checker to do their job I was preparing to begin my diatribe of why this delay was aggravating to me when I feel this gigantic hand upon the back of my neck. Sitting there looking up at something seven feet tall some sort of skyrise monster was imposing his will upon me. Initially I sound timid. And aggravated, “Not at all!” Acting like I’m completely cowed. The people around me like the vipers they are all with sly little smiles upon their faces. Looking to see how wonderful it is to see somebody else be treated like shit! But as I sit there and turn around to look at this beast I think how self-satisfied this motherfucker is. And I consider that one way of disposing of this pest is to unexpectedly shoot both my thumbs into his eyes and leave him sightless like some Polyphemus. The son of the sea god, the cyclops. Except of course if you blind the cyclops you have to let him know your name. Ulysses told him “Noman.” In a world of celestial observation by cameras everywhere, it wouldn’t be a good idea. But oh, never mind.
All I knew is that now I was expected to go out into the suburbs. Find some damn place, supposedly to take a class. But in reality, just to pick up some papers. Some useless fucking errand that I could have avoided. But some bitch behind a desk had decided to be a little more bureaucratic than usual. So I picked up the damn thing. And I found myself going out a second time except this was now the middle of Winter. Back and forth, up and down curves, until I reached a place the school should have been. I had to turn around again and realizing at the same time I was just missing the point all along.
A headache in two different languages. One of them, Pig Latin, or similar in terms of an informal method of written self inscription. And the other, French? Latin? No. But something enigmatic. Yeah! Well, I can relate, I guess. But it gives a human dimension. Everybody’s different. All shapes, sizes configurations, you name it! As far as different flavors of humanity? Hrummph? How do you classify them? I mean after all, maybe they’re unique! Wouldn’t that be a shock. Hrummph. Getting forgetful heah?
I was their creation. As an infant, I laid between them. There was no nervousness or feeling of impropriety as I was their creation. Equally part of one as the other. And now I am their artifact. A leftover element bespeaking their presence. The manifestation of same. In a bygone time that for nearly nobody no longer exists. I am that reminder. I am a monument that walks from place to place going through the motions of life. No real trail to follow. No expectation to an end to the road. Just every morning awakening to the same old survival. Emptiness. Futility! A humble sense of a modicum of appreciation of yet another day. Where is the wonder? Where is the notion that this is going into a parking orbit of some lesser known galaxy on the fringe of nowhere. “Who put catsup in my coffee?”
I stand here alone in solitude amidst the bric a brac of what was once assembled into a foreign land. The everyday street activity, lost. Little pieces here and there discarded as if by happenstance. Their function far from ever being understood. Archeological henpecked puzzle. Why did it take so long to build this cloud? It seems a must to sort through the fragments of what once made sense but that no longer exists. What do you hope to revive? What imprints can one take from all this confusion? There must be more somehow? There must be an explanation to this chaos. But, my friend, chaos needs no explanation. Chaos is just a departure from point A away from point B in all directions. How can anybody make sense of that? “Pass the onion soda!”