The previous week had gone by characterized unconsciously by a certain amount of obsession about the itinerary of the upcoming Wednesday. A lecture at the prestigious antiquities museum. The passage of life, from work day to no work day had been hyper attenuated by having been unceremoniously ‘let go‘ without any reasonable explanation. One that might confront that longstanding covert little inner dialogue. The same one that taken over long before adolescence had petered out. An event. Something implicitly of intangible worth to involve one’s self within. An opportunity to experience a heretofore unimaginable situation that masked an unknowable mysterious potential. One that might lead to some unexpected twist or turn in the current linear set of occurrences. Socially? Intellectually? A cheap way of banging on destiny’s door to see who might be at home. And, of course, building up an electrical charge along the way to produce some excitement in an otherwise humdrum day after day routine. The thoughts predictably revived within his head as if spinning sympathetically around the dial with the minute hand of the wall clock chiming each hour on the hour. The mental assay of the potentials of this circumstance ending up with exactly the same conclusions a day later. As if some recognition, and possibly a reward, was implicit by its own right for making a cause for the potential of external mental discourse. The flavor of contemporary topics being considered to be young and hip naught but constant demonstrations of an innate sense of personal prowess in quickly deciphering what was routinely passed off as the latest trend. How odd that this latest personal obsession of his own in filling a calendar with interesting and extraordinary events sought a similar refuge? But in the exact opposite direction of deciphering some overlooked hidden details within what was already universally known and considered as indisputable fact. Maybe the underlying motivation behind this impulse was exactly the same? Who could tell?
The next and another of the intervening days would rapidly pass without any distinction from the other. Each one long past becoming instantly forgettable. A vague awareness of the implicit fit of his personality immediately departing with them to the near proximity of ones past recollections. The salient details floating somewhere nearby in the mental fog. But equally hard to recover on command for use as a simple guideline to direct the inertia of one’s conduct in waking life. Any hint of abstraction based upon unexpected frictions encountered along the way from previous experiences, some possibly pleasurable or some disturbing, quickly expunged. Keeping one’s daily activities unchanged. And all significant vectors of action linear when charted. One’s general attitude sublimated wholly to the same routine. Putting on one pair of pants after the other. Attempting to suit the feelings of the moment to match the changing demands of the immediate situation at hand. These little things, like bumps in an untended roadway, being considered the most efficient and potentially deadly in the misdirection of one’s efforts. Something that occasionally achieved some reasonable degree of self awareness. Those nightly dreams fitfully conjured being especially cogent in the playground of dreamland adding an animal sensation of mystery behind an otherwise lacking daily commentary . Yet completely forgettable by the time one had risen to meet the blinding rays of dawn while visiting the loo. The further one seemingly traveled in that direction, the less one could recall having experienced anything? Passion and inspiration having been set down at some forgotten at the crossroads sometime long ago. Was any omen to be considered less accurate for the fact that the number sequence displayed upon a blinking digital table radio in the bedroom might have been several minutes off? Embarrassment setting in as one queried just exactly they had to offer? As if a hole in the corner of a shoulder mounted ruck sack has unexpectedly split and emptied all the seed corn behind one as they walked so many empty miles. The body beneath one moving forth down this path oblivious of the loss employing all those same old familiar motions. The present tense? The sensation of moving along as if one were poised too comfortably upon a cradle that itself sported a set of unexpected wheels slowly moving the sleeper along. All the buttons denoting some degree of mental awareness pushed but jammed.
That special day now approaching, day by day, coming nearer and nearer. The passage of mere minutes taken for granted, as it might be with a machine that depended solely upon its own gears driving sprockets for guidance. Not need for acute consciousness in gathering thoughts that might be needed to ensure real progress. But those things that were seemingly so far ahead and distantly approaching unexpectedly flying past. Quickly outdistancing present tense awareness to find one’s self now unexpectedly engaged in contemplating the aftermath of the event in the last fleeting minutes of the same. And then wondering why they had considered it so important to begin with? The ongoing inner dialogue being near to undetectable. Occurring at varying levels of insignificant volume. Only the intensity of associated wants and desire daring to spill over into awareness. Yet, even then, superseding the phenomena experienced immediately before it. This presaged conclusion leading to another strange circumstance. The date for the heralded event, having been so obsessed over, now turning out to be the one that had not been expected. But in point of fact a week ahead of the same! So now the reverent was found to be duly prepared for immediate departure at the appropriate hour on the mistaken date deprived of any destination. How could this be? Was one’s mind still fully intact? Who really was in control of this show?
The man had thrown away his cell phone. Or so he had thought! The morning had broken through the windows as described and, despite that an old red cotton watch cap was strewn tightly shielding his eyes, the first light of day had promptly done its work stirring him from the inner distance of a dream. The affair experienced in that inner realm now completely faded from mind and now suddenly returned to an immediacy of a waking world that compelled him to struggle with his habit harnessed mind. Unable to cross back over its misty barrier to recover any portion of that elusive scenario. He could only recall having grappled the bed covers away from him and subsequently duly rewarded by the cold bite of early Winter’s morning. The pernicious air quickly drafting down across the entire expanse of his naked body. He had decided that previous evening to uncharacteristically sleep, ‘French’. What ever the lingering impressions of other identities that might have been reprised in this intervening moment reduced to residue. Once again driven back into the hard basalt of waking consciousness. The best that they could provide him with being presented from the unconscious to the waking mind as a tiny pinhole from which to broadcast their arcane yet useful meaning. But now, in light of all these frustrating circumstances, merely being slightly annoying. He let out a long mournful belch that emanated rudely from far down below within the seat of his own ‘plumbing‘. The event’s commencement was [NOW] nearly a week ahead. Those same old fever pitches fully shunted off his mainline a week back renewed. The recent completion of so many necessary tasks in preparation presenting the briefest of shelf lives. Their importance to him in this unlikely moment quickly fading away nearly as fast as his dream. Lost within rows of stacks in the larger scheme of the virtual library of his own mythic continuum along with every other instance of ever indecipherable sparing with unnamed enigmatic phantoms that collectively chided him throughout each waking day. Habitual repetition allied with a level of industrial duty forgetfulness that together inevitably led to a larger burden of personal mystery. The inability to be conversant in same leaving him without any particular point or purpose in the greater scheme of things.
He looked about his own rooms now sympathetically sleepy-eyed. Noticing, with some alacrity, that his right hand had automatically palmed his own smart phone. And with the rapid flick of a nervous thumb had switched it on. The other forefinger unaccountably responding as if an automaton by entering the requisite pass code? “How odd?“, he thought as he sat staring into its bright light while ensconced upon his regal white enameled throne. There it was! As if it had grown legs of its own and then hopped handily up into his palm. The lasting impressions of this cartoon scenario teasing his mental alertness. Another round of flirtatious recollection to taunt him in the struggle to revive logos. This thought then instantly erased by the neat appearance of a small phalanx of colorful screen icons that glowed across the face of the enigmatic instrument that lay within his hand. Free will being born as an artifice defying the present. One that could now be defined as being able to confidently disbelieve any of one’s own automatic actions as being anything more than vaguely significant of something trivial? This was the exact same type of barrier he now realized that had long ago been inserted between ‘ourselves and ourselves’ since birth. A gross interruption of the natural world deflecting those incorrigible works of the phantom presence loosely referred to as an almighty God. But, perhaps itself, another key function in an intricate psychologically mental trap sprung by those that had hatched humanity into a worldly framework of constant unending Byzantine deceptions?
When one stopped to realize that in all of human history man’s greatest achievement was not the building of mighty empires but in their complete destruction. Tearing them down along with all their own greatest works in brief fits of unexpected passion. It was now impossible for him not to see that all types of wars, both internal and external, were useless and futile ventures in personal vanity! Only designed to make that ever lurking anonymous community of the few ever more obscenely wealthy by stealing the power of rational decision from the hapless. This trickery enacted on a regularly scheduled basis. All that brass plate artifice of eternal glory quickly dissipated by this fact. A mindset leaving its unwilling participants with an awareness that all those overblown phony demonstrations of patriotism along with false rationalizations supposedly made for the sake of survival were naught but an empty pack of the same old lies. The recounting of human history an eclectic topic of failures in plain view conspiracies that ultimately led to similar conclusions of the same old mistakes created by deliberate mismanagement. Those ceded the public trust becoming morally corrupt in exercising control and always feeling self-empowered to grab everything in sight. As if they alone had exclusive title it alone! All too often forgetting the hard lessons endured by previous generations of their ancestors that they did not. No omniscient celestial presence around to influence them otherwise? Life for everyone in this waking world being about struggle and a personal sense of relative endurance. Ultimately futility! How long within the ongoing play of the most adverse scenarios could one last? One might not ever get to those places that they thought they deserved. But hopefully finding peace within one’s that were earnestly tried. All these actors by virtue of their acting showing one only what they wanted to see. All these innocuous hired guns daily broadcasting a path to what they wanted all others to travel. And the sleeper playing the repetitive role of a proverbial fish stuck in the same old barrel without pants.