Tree bark... mobo. Redbud pods. 4-40 screws. Glue sticks. Tea bags. RCA plugs. Sunlight. Horizontal blinds. Drop cords. Nails. Picture frames. Wall studs. Culverts. River rocks. Arm hair. Awnings. Slogans. Storage. Model rockets. Velcro wallets.
Talking through my fingertips. Listening to the wind blow through the woods. Walked through the neighbourhood. Smelled fresh-cut pine boards in unfinished house and dead pine limbs piled in the ditch. Late summer. Roadkill squirrel on the road surrounded by flies.
Misplaced modifiers echoing humour of the dry variety.
We participate in our illogical, unexplainable social gatherings, unaware of no purpose whatsoever.
The Internet is the novel that never ends. [Who said that already?]
On whom do you depend to tell you how to best spend your disposable income?
To whom do you turn to provide you guidance in areas of life that are fuzzy and make no sense?
These are not my words. I didn't invent them or reinvent them. I merely show my well-trained youth in how I put these words together, training I received in both formal and informal settings.
And yet I think I continue my education, even though I, like everyone else, it appears, am, barring major damage to my body/psyche, spending my life reaffirming the personality that was formed by the time I was five.
Do I need confirmation that my image of self is surprisingly reflected somewhere in the anonymous masses? Is it not obvious that I am a member of my species?
Blow, wind, blow. Feel the hot air virtually pouring onto this electronic paper.
It doesn't matter who I am. It matters. What is "it"? It is us, you, we, them, her, him, me.
Our species will spin around itself in subcultural swirls in time immemorial. We'll say the same things over and over, climbing over the pile of the bodies of the subcultures we overcame that overcame our subcultures that we'll overcome that will overcome our subcultures again and again.
I can spend my moments here satirising those subcultures. Or...
I can spend my moments everywhere making sure we focus enough of our species' resources to open up channels to the stars upon which waves of our mixed subcultures flow outward.
I'm not a technical wizard. I am not a programming genius. Otherwise, I'd gather with friends in the international community and help build our own launchpads and liveable space habitats, knowing some of us would end up like Bruce Dern and the crew in "Silent Running," at odds with one another over the primary mission, thus requiring multiple launches to ensure one or more crews succeeded in exiting this solar system.
Where would we go? In some ways, it wouldn't matter, as long as we ventured outward, serving as extraterrestrial guinea pigs and shining beacons for our species.
Instead of...
Instead of, like, for sure, spending our time, you know, on, like, more stuff we can buy with, like, our, you know, our, uh... disposable income.
Eventually we'll find a viable extrasolar landing spot ("invading species" ethics aside), having reinvented ourselves many times over on the way there.
Meanwhile, I'm mired in the leftover detritus of our disposable stuff, wondering why I'm here, caught in a satire of a satire of the satirical world I imagined at age five. If the joke's on me, who's laughing?
Being happy and melancholy is my lot in life, joyously so. Writing is my hobby, given to me by my ancestors. Observing the universe, the only way I know how/where to live, is my comic relief.
If anyone happens to come upon this blog and reads it, don't take what I say seriously. I'm uncomfortable with where certain parts of our species are headed and thus use this blog to subvert my discomfort through the use of parody. It is what I do with who I am. I mean no harm. I plan no revolution. You, not I, decide how you want to live your lives.
Remember, history books record massive changes in our species' actions, not the regular, normal activities we create to reproduce and preserve our species and the ecosystems in which we live our daily lives. Regular folks like me don't want to foment revolutions - we just want to find a relatively easy place to settle down and take care of family, our names and faces unknown to friendly nameless and faceless people on the other side of the planet. Peace is about sharing, war is about taking away.
Be wary of people who seek the limelight. On the flip side, idle idol worship is even an odd game to play.
Not everything has to make sense. Can we teach our children to live successful lives every day without fostering a heavy belief in heroes/heroines?
Another day full of questions. I'm glad I write this to myself in the belief I'm the only one who reads this. I can be me, transparent and free.
Time to step away from this technological portal and watch the world silently, another day of my life spent doing nothing much important, a life no more or less important in the grand scheme of things.
You can figure out for yourselves how to live together with your neighbours and family. It's not easy. It's not hard. It just is.
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