Quaint Little Ideas

  “Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner” – Lao Tzu.

  I am trying to do the impossible. Resurrect a dead man. My emotions are weak, my spirit is low, my soul is fading. This is Modern Suicide for Inferior Genetics.

  What is the meaning of life? A struggle to obtain or maintain your way of existence. All I desire is to accomplish this feat before it is too late. To contribute something to the world. Build a legacy, so that my efforts will be remembered, and perhaps one day I will be noticed; wherever I am in the cosmic display. 

  Selfishly I pined for hopeless romanticism, then I regressed as a degenerate gambler. This combination is toxic for any human being to endure. I know that my clock is spiraling towards midnight, but I am the maker of this fate, and this is something in which I can find salvation. A plane where faith and alchemy co-exist. 

  I enjoy listening to music. If I go deaf I will check out in short order. What an irony for a shy man. You see it is not my voice that I like to hear but others. Does this not make sense? Why am I condemned for disdain and shallowness? When it comes to acting proper in social accordance, I would be better off showing up nude to a public gathering. After all, I am a proponent of peacock theory. 

  Of course cavemen tactics are that which rule society. We have not evolved all that far from those hunting days. Instead of playing with clubs we play with cameras. Is there no shame for you circle pegs? To think I am the one studying Ayn Rand and Emily Dickinson. Will you hold my left hand into darkness?

  I learned long ago to observe. It is optimal fun. Such a delight to be encouraged as a child to wander. Nowadays my wonder is a blunder. A grown man does not explore, a grown man stakes his encampment. Family, Career, Values, Beliefs. The order is not important, but the accumulation of all is essential. 

  Imagine a man who believes he can pull the stars down for his woman. He values not money or sex, but knowledge and companionship. How about you fetch this handsome lad from the meddlesome bunch of cronies for me would you? Here boy, come on! Oh wait, his career is a mystery, his family is sleeping; who cries for the apple in the dirt? You can clean it up can’t you? Perfectly good still, beautiful skin. Is it full of worms? A magician never spills his bag of tricks.

  About 8 years ago I got introduced to a probiotic tea called Kombucha. Back then it was an experimental product. The health food and drink craze was a bit of a schtick, but it is all the rage presently. Everyone with a smartphone (and that’s everyone) can look up exotic products like cacao powder, goji berries, spirulina, chlorella, and diatomaceous earth. Who knew people got tired of fast food? I suppose they grew weary of being fat. Structural collapse is an explosion, foundational disintegration is an implosion. 

  It is appalling how little Americans care about wellness. It isn’t just politics and corporate greed, its full blown apathy and conformity. People are oblivious of how to use the internet, the stage where the next global war will be fought. If 1984 is the present, then Brave New World is the future. What of the past? This belongs to H.G. Wells for starters. Quaint little ideas like a Time Machine, Robots burrowed underground, an Invisible man, and an Island of talking animals. These are not fantasies anymore than a commercial; not addressing your every impulse. 

  We create everything, we program the mind, we are the constructs of Heaven and Hell. Why should you care whether perspective is a gateway to delusion? You ingest all this normalcy here on Earth. I’ll see you on the other side, and my gratefulness will be the medicine I need to endure. What is homicide other than a miscalculation of the almighty? Is it plausible suicide obeys the functions of willpower? Do you not have control over your cells? When you relinquish control is that not the moment the suffering ends and the living begins? 

  This consciousness is the trial, the test, the punishment. Our external communication agents of death, our internal communication breeders of life. Let us turn inside out and witness the change. If I could tell the world one thing, it’s that we’re not all okay. You dance with status, I’ll flow with intuition.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: