That idea didn’t seem like something that held very much water. At first. Some fancy idea about how some dude thought that this was his life, how everything felt so solid and so real. How according to him that this was going on, that that was going on. When in the meantime all that was going on involved him babbling to himself in a corner, heavily sedated. Fancy idea. But is it possible there’s any grain of truth in that? That all this stuff around me is just an elaborate hoax. Something I created to disguise whatever horrible reality I actually really inhabited? Well; what on earth is making me feel that way anyway?
“Is it the drugs.”
When mom decided she didn’t feel very enthusiastic about the cannabis oil and we volunteered to take it off her hands, did that end up taking us down some very deep dark and strange path? Is it because when you randomly draw a tarot card it seems to be a mirror that uncannily resembles exactly what is going on in your life at that moment? It wouldn’t really be too hard to dismiss all that. Unnecessarily Elaborate. Self Indulgent. “Oh come on now; really? Really Really?” Or is there a little bit more to it than that? Is it how it always seems to become evident that whatever unpleasantness in the world gets confronted the response is denial?
The response is all sorts of wonderful.
No… That unpleasantness didn’t happen because of anything that involved me, involved some sort of corporate, involved some sort of level of government. Someone with a vested interest. I’ve got no idea what might have brought about that unpleasantness but it definitely doesn’t involve what you think it involves, in fact; are you even 100% sure that that unpleasantness even exists? Confidence waivers. Next level. A bit further down the line when it’s not possible to deny the unpleasantness anymore, or at least to ignore the consequence of it, at that point it turns out of course you were right all along. It was them that you confronted that were responsible for what you thought they were responsible for.
But the damage is done.
“In the 1990s, as climate change became a prominent issue, industry associations like the American Petroleum Institute organized an ambitious campaign to confuse the public about the facts of climate science. Their campaign was based on the tobacco industry’s work to obscure the link between smoking and cancer, using fringe think tanks to spread junk science. Late last year, one of the architects and chief spokesmen for that campaign, a professional denier named Myron Ebell, was put in charge of President Trump’s Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) transition team. Fake science was infiltrating the new administration.”
As neat and tidy and obvious as that version of the story is, despite it happening over and over again it does not end. It goes on. It goes on and on more often. It is now become a permanent state. Existence is a perpetual exercise in denial of the truth. So. How is this meant to make you feel? Is it meant to make you feel like the world is real? Now. The next next level. Relative to time and space how real is real anyway? If you take an event like World War Two, any event you might think is a really big deal, does it register anywhere on the spectrum of an amount of time that is all time? Does it register on the spectrum of an amount of space that is all space? No. It does not. Not at all. Not even a little bit. If an event that you think is a big deal doesn’t register anywhere on the spectrum of the Total of time and space then… What of your Life?
Then what of your pathetic, sad, little and lonely life.
It’s been a week since mom got back from the hospital when she had a biopsy done. She was not in a good way after that experience and T@ sort of moved into the house with her, to help get her back on her feet. Mom had been drugged up on painkillers and cannabis oil pretty much the whole time. It’s hard to tell if she’s getting any better after that experience. She insists on getting some of her strength back before sharing any information about the situation with any relatives, or at least with Uncle C, who I’m particularly bothered about not being told about all this. She says she wants to hear what the oncologist has to say on Monday before bothering to speak to anyone.
I’m not sure she will tell anyone anything even after she’s been to see the oncologist.
Tonight I tried to raise the subject again. I’m not sure exactly what I was trying to achieve by doing that. I’m not sure why but I asked how she’d feel if he kept news like this from her. She said she wouldn’t have been bothered by that, that she’d have trusted his decision to not share the news. Then I asked how she’d feel if he’d died before he got a chance to tell her about what was happening to him. In that moment a lot sort of went on. The first thing was that again she said she wouldn’t have been bothered. I felt skeptical about the response. I also felt aware that I’d approached some sort of limit in terms of what was acceptable to discuss and what was not. Mom pushed back a little as much as she had the strength to push back with but it was T@ that got a bit more to the point suggesting that perhaps things were getting too intense.
I felt a little told off.
It’s the second time I’ve felt that way since T@’s been around taking on some kind of protector role, the role of protecting mom. The first time was after I joked that mom was looking like a molting bird. All I was aiming for with that was to lighten the mood. Gradually it seems clear that in this chapter, in this story, my role is the one that fringes on the weird, the inappropriate, the awkward, the unsure. The dazed and the confused. It might not be that way if I’d forced my way into doing the obvious stuff, or stepped into those shoes because nobody else was around to.
And I think in a sense that was what was meant to happen.
I don’t think mom ended up down here because she thought my sisters would be around to walk her through this. I think she ended up down here because she wanted me to do that, because I was the only one that was here to do that. But what she came here to do, what she came here to offer me seems to be getting snatched away from me by them. The reason why she chose to be here is because she wanted to share an experience with me, feeling like her attention and time had been spent on my two sisters for pretty much the entirety of their lives. Ending with her feeling like somehow I had been short-changed. Well. I guess they can have it if they really want it so bad. They can jostle and strong arm and shoulder their way into this thing. I guess I can watch from the sidelines, continue to pretend like I don’t exist. Continue to pretend like nothing is happening.
Continue to pretend like nothing is real.