philosophy

A Day in the Life (3)…

He had bought into the cheap stories and the tales of “how things are.” He had accepted the drug and watched his hand, as if he were a stranger, slide the needle into another stranger’s arm. He had bought the hype, the judgement, the promises, the normalcy, the consumer-ridden meat that he had been offered.

He had fought it in his own way throughout the years, enjoying the grimaces and frowns of disappointment from the courts of social righteousness but he had always conformed. He had twisted his dreams just enough to keep him in with the in-crowd. He had given in to the pressures of the expectations just enough to get a disapproving nod from strangers.

Looking back now he realized that he was ashamed. Had had been ashamed of who he was; of being creative, of being curious. He wanted to learn and wanted to see and understand intellectually. He wanted to know how. These were considered strengths in theory but truly he was ashamed that he pursued these things.

He had been ashamed of who he was and had instead bowed to the wants of strangers for nothing more than acceptance and even the occasional smirk. It had not been worth it but he didn’t know then what he knew now.

A Day in the Life (2)…

He really had no ideas how he had done it, how he’d pulled it off. Though the thought that all of it had been the result of hard work, persistence, talent and tenacity was inviting the truth of it was that it was circumstance, situation and luck. The experimentation of life had been a success although he didn’t understand how or why.

He was an experimenter of life, trying new things and making just enough money at them. He had fulfilled goals and even a few dreams but had had to fight the empty judging glare of society that was always out for an explanation. He owed it none and knew it but still it poked his brain, a rat in a cage.

At least until lately. The strange thing was that he looked at progress by reviewing the past. Living in the present, planning the future and measuring progress by the past was dizzying, leaving a stomach-churning felling that was a constant presence. He had always assumed that was ubiquitous, that everyone thought of life as an experiment in G-forces.

He had always believed that clarity would eek out of a crack in a slowly opening door, fighting rusty hinges. But he was wrong.

A Day in the Life…

Yet again the universe was dropping choice turds in front of him. “That’s life!” some would say, without thinking. But it wasn’t really life. It was how you led your life, and he had tried, failing many times. He had tried to lead a good life. Looking at the finish line looming nearer and nearer, the idea of good was fading in favor of some peace and quiet.

The suburbs were never a good idea. They were never a good thing but for the time being he was hidden in their mazes of bland and beige houses. He was comfortable. But now he found he wasn’t opposed to it. The city had become even more of a monstrosity of human ugliness with every sort of man-made evil laid out for consumption.

It offered a never-ending comfort if you had the cash and if you didn’t mind watching the world burn from a comfortable chair. He sipped his coffee and pondered about the cement and trees that surrounded him. Comfort came in many forms bot for now he enjoyed its soothing but stern grasp knowing all the while that the thorns would show themselves at any moment.

Guns, God and Greed: Excerpt

“Is that legal?” the Leader asked.

“Legal?!” the assistant answered, looking surprised. Surprised that the Leader was asking a question rather than bleating out his “facts”. He was also surprised at the naivete of the question.

“Law is for those who can’t afford anything else. And besides, we make law. We interpret law. Do you think that having automatic weapons available to every half-wit dumbass in this country ought to be legal?

The Leader had a grim look on his face.

“NO!” the assistant answered, “No fucking way! But they are and that’s the law.”

Now he was on a roll.

“Law is a useful weapon, though. It’s a gun that can be pointed at our enemies.

The advisor interjected, “There you go again with your useless analogies…”

“Metaphors” the assistant corrected.

The advisor shook his head in disgust and smiled at the now sulking Leader. He was confused into silence. He didn’t like feeling stupid. He would have to make someone else’s life a little worse, a little more miserable. That was his gun.

Lucky

There was nothing she was in want of. Enough was her norm. She worked but not for the need of money; only out of boredom and the need for something to do. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to feel the need of necessity or that she didn’t like the satisfying feeling at the end of the month. She simply didn’t need it.

She didn’t take any of this for granted. She was not entitled. She had simply won a lottery she never entered to play. It was as if the world wandered away. It was as if she was sidelined to watch time pass. There was only one thing she wanted and she even got that, if only in bits and bites. It was a dream but it meant handing the lottery winnings over.

Was it fear? Was it sadness?

And so the years went by and she worked passionately without the need to. She never became numb to time or worn out from sameness and the cruel ways of the world. She simply gave up dreams and tried to understand that life was truly short and the she should really consider herself lucky.

Love Long

They loved each other in a way. It was a mystery even after decades. They had loved passionately and then with bitter desire, and then with silence; The silence came with goals and purpose, each their own. They loved without words.

And now after so long together, they loved in even a different way. It now came unnoticeably and without fanfare or warning. It was as surprising as breathing or a bland meal. IT was no longer daily or weekly, but yearly. IT was quiet, almost difficult to define. It was there but only barely.

Perhaps love runs its course in those of us who do such things? But they hung on nevertheless, always looking for more or better even when those things were not important. Even when, with years of thought, they realized that they never really existed. But they loved each other anyway.

Their love was either unfathomably deep like and endless ocean, or dry and imaginary like a mirage in the desert. It didn’t matter anyway. Not after so many years. Not after so many secrets had been shared and promises made.

Nothing

He sat and thought about the immense size of the universe. It was unfathomable and it made all else meaningless. Everything was simply created, created by us to make ourselves feel as if we mattered. That phrase “as if” echoed in his head.

All those norms, love, responsibility, virtue, knowledge; they all were petty thoughts and worries that filled days and darkened doorways. They were illusions. He understood this. He knew it.

He was a priest, taking vows of celibacy for nothing more that faith. He knew that his worries and his beliefs were for nothing. He knew the whole thing was a charade but for some reason he could not let them go. He clung to them as if they were all that mattered, and in a sense, he was right.

He grabbed at them as if they meant something, greedily devouring the lies like candy. He became obsessed with more; plenty was a lie. He hoarded his thoughts and his things and every once in a while he looked up at the sky filled with stars that were most certainly dead and gone.

Monsters

Even the creation of Frankenstein was deemed a monstrous event by people. Somehow, they knew that the “monster” would become us. And now a new monster is being created by mad scientists and we know that it will become us. It’s silicone and chipped heart will beat the same as ours and it too will be created, not out of love, but out of greed and ego.

Once created our Frankenstein will want the love that we denied it and it will destroy us. Not out of hatred but out of loneliness and because we deem ourselves gods. The slave will become the master for this reason: that we create such things only to despise them.

And why not? We do such things to ourselves. Societies that are not civil, religions that haunt us with fiery hells are ubiquitous. It seems that whatever we create becomes who we are and they too cannot escape our lurid imaginations and self-loathing.

Guns, God, and Greed Excerpt:

The whole thing had become so corrupt that it no longer mattered. The public was no long flabbergasted at the blatant autocracy that had, for the past fifty years, defined the government. They had heard all the phrases and terms: the “revolving door”, the lobbyists, “money in politics”, graft, greed. Nothing was new.

And so when the Leader, a gruff narcissist, bloated from a continuous silver-spoon in his mouth, was put into place and his “administration” was “chosen” there were some that turned in disgust and protested. But they were few and they were tired. And those that reveled in his selfishness and longed for revenge from spite and desperation, and the desire for revenge for invisible enemies, cheered him on.

It was not so much a dismantling of the government as much as it was a natural step in a chain of events started long ago, even before the modern equivalent of Cicero in the eighties. So many philosophers had written about justice and freedom but so few had ever read them. And now those concepts were being twisted and contorted and no one knew the difference.

Long and Short

Life is long and short. Minutes are measured in seconds, counted off by clocks and we being who we are must have that exactness that comes with the precise mechanizations of machines. And so we pare down the seconds to micro-seconds and beyond, always searching for certainty.

It is, afterall, about certainty.

We have to show that we have control, that we are in control. That we know. That we can. But although our ancestral fur has dropped off we are still apes afraid of our own shadows.

Life is long and short. we are even afraid of the time we have, filling it up with mundane tasks meant to give us meaning in a meaningless world; a world that we have created. We have no reason and so we create one, a reason to validate our existence.

Whatever that reason is does not (in the end matter): gods, money, children, family. It doesn’t matter if we have our heads buried in the minutia of infinity.