At nary a year shy of seventy, Tom Brown found himself to be an exceedingly mild fellow. This particular Tom Brown, unlike his more notable literary namesake had never exceeded the acclaim of his namesake of former eras in outwardly exhibiting anything extraordinary to the outward world as far as qualities that suggested a potential to be admired as noticeable. If anything, as the only sire of what might have been considered a very ordinary family mired in humble beginnings, he would easily be classed as absolutely run of the mill. But, as such, someone that too many others from an equally humble station would by a certain resident petulance suggesting a preference by the boy for reticence in all his dealings, then become considered as an easy mark. A ‘someone‘ that one could always rely upon to take less in terms of portions doled out by contentious others or be expected to bear up without comment by those in charge of the lower echelons of bureaucratic falderalls that typically menaced the various rights of passage of early life. Somehow, Tom managed to navigate these shoals, but also steadily built an inner level abiding resentment against all the others that too freely took him for granted in terms of his outward appearance and mildness of manner that was to his own mind a mere concession to good manners and civil behavior. The point in fact of the matter being that young Tom was ever aware of his surroundings and the measure of deviousness of those who so casually applied their disregard for his intellect. A quality that might have deposited within that lonely class of natural sociopaths ever scheming to find come-uppance’s with the offhanded treatment that for that rare sort were to be considered a major affront and punishable by acts of outrageous unpardonable violence. Yet Tom from an early age was too objective to his own lot in life to succumb to such petty notions of vengeful satisfactions. Perhaps too vainglorious? Enraptured it seems in the arms of his default feeling of perpetual mother love. A cloven hoof that assured him of a standing far beyond that bestowed by the struggling school of ever pernicious fish that veiled themselves with a tissue thin pretense of civility. If there was a flaw, then it was indeed accounted for in his own sense of ever humble estimation. Something to be considered by him to be both a blessing and a curse.
Always prone to self-admonishment, yet unable to fully lose one’s self in the moment to be a fool was to be a traitor. Not for fear of the censure of the society around one. Though in later years of adulthood it became clear that there was a price to be paid for any flagrantly overt displays of disregard by the currency of the latest whim of the laws of the day as laid down in pumice stone logic. To say that he walked upon his own crystal path overhead that was ever-threatening some unexpected collapse into summary failure was not of a casual misstep of the tongue. Another something to regard and not so much a casual reveal of the true potential of his actual nature exposed to so many anonymous ruffians always eager for his diminishment. The something was quite an understatement indeed for one so young. In particular, his own capacity for enacting violence without boundaries being foremost in his own mind as a inviolable taboo that should never be trifled with. Always deferring at every sidelined juncture though this inner landscape as if ever set in a turmoil to avoid that which seemed barely controllable. Thank God that the accompanying deviousness that might be naturally possessed by too many others was not in force! Slights that might be rudely tossed off to being members of this sort was to him of particular embarrassment. Yet, there was always some dark perpetually persistent angel not far from bending his ear to act out most grievously in full rage. There were always many matchsticks long saved aplenty to recall in his personal collection of infamies as possible reminders. Until time and fate periodically provided him with a jubilee against holding all grudges. But until those occasional intermissions, so many sour opinions remained on store until the title of ‘human race‘ had long acquired a bitter taste. And all too often with ample reason! So many reasons. The accumulation of too many years and scant little to show for them proving out his ultimate theorem.
Those early years of child-like wonder now unblemished by accurate recall defining this elusive doppleganger counterpart were now solidly extinguished by the perpetuity in force of a long accustomed monotonously accumulating empty existence. He had successfully survived being an easy target as the stranger. That perpetual ‘new kind‘ wrought of the grand children of those that had showed up before in the middle of the term. Ones that like his former self had instantly became easy pickings for the bullies in the room. And as such the membrane separating an interior softness from the hostility of outer world grew thicker with this newly acquired sensibility about a ‘now‘ and a ‘then‘, fostering a new thicker scar tissue. That old bridge to manhood recalled after the fact as being an off ramp to an extremely distant and circuitously out of the way route. Little if any commonality with those that had been institutionally accustomed to find comfort in the larger conundrum of the eternal herd corralled . Each single day denoted to struggle to in some new and unexpected way find some escape from the inflexible continuity of the regimented sameness of the last. The lack of daily challenge in his own habitual nature causing him to fall in upon himself like some old abandoned shack invisible on the outskirts of town. The accompanying cynical attitude that all useful rivers had long been crossed and all assailable surrounding mountains long ago climbed being the thick cement sloughed between these mental boulders. His own internals were now failing in a manner that was all too reminiscent of those of the abstract material ones that served his own domicile. His intellect putting his animal intuition at bay with the solid thought that his own biological existence was in immediate jeopardy of being put to a very uncomfortable and final end. All those many sins requisite in giving up the struggles of everyday life to slowly begin to worship the inevitability of one’s own failure were compounded in his being. The defeat made ever more justifiable through such conveniently self-engendered phenomena. This enclosure of a growing self-doubts as solid in construction as any nest of a colonized wasps. Their apparition constantly stinging the remnants of his waning dignity.Could any sort of torture through unending physical confinement take as much of a toll on any other as this inescapable funk had stolen from him?
How obvious it was that those others that made their presence too publicly well-known in so overt a manner were in fact lacking in some fundamental quality their garish outfits suggested otherwise. Always caught up within an act and portraying something that they did not feel that they earnestly embodied yet needed to show to that ‘everyone else‘, that in turn most likely, did not have it as well? How sad not to be allowed to be yourself unless in private? And there to most likely loathe the fact of it like some inescapable birthmark, rash or mole. It was so easy to say that this world was a crap hole. Not worth anyone’s foolish regard! But then that was too easy and convenient to favor the prevailing winds of that larger shifting society. The ongoing destruction of past viewpoints was under the crush of the coils of the boa constrictor of a newly centralized world society. One that cared not for independent opinions or erratic behavior from a populous abyss below. Those who soared above it controlled and prospered by the proliferation of machines and preferred them over humankind. So the herd would soon have to be ruthlessly trimmed or perhaps eventually eliminated completely. It all depended up the continued paucity of waning intellect of all common fools who were being industrially bred down into simple minded morons. Something that he did not wish to be become part of on either pole. And, no more so than anyone else it seemed, for this ‘they‘ to be allowed to continue on unhindered and unabated.
But then, like any other ‘Trump’d up’ fantasy, wasn’t this was so much ham on rye? So what! What if all this was exactly as he had said? How would it affect him in any way that changed the immediacy of what had become a downward slide upon a greased metal ramp into oblivion? Life biologically speaking WAS nearing its conclusion. Still far off enough to possibly relax a bit. The skies at night could still be appreciated as they had been in times of old with that Farmer’s Almanac sensibility. A clear bright blue day was still as refreshing to the soul as it may have once been, and maybe more so. Small things revealing a boundlessly immense universe would sneak their way into the conversation amidst that perpetual gray of interminable patent sameness. This puppet show with only one player to offer for its cast. One who was in turn manipulated in those same old tiresome routines by unseen hands from above. Was this fair to a species that had been structurally bred to the permanent separation of left from right to throw the definition of all experience into the same single pot of phenomena? Was there no longer a need to maintain these manifest dipoles so as to establish some continuity with the past that kept a community in place! His own territory had drifted too far afield into that exterior very foreign land of only one self. How could one uphold any sort of justice within this ghost town?