So by now the path has completely disappeared. It’s amazing how confident of itself it had been. An infinite pattern etched permanently into an uninhabited landscape. Maybe it was for a while back there. But over time and distance it gradually became overgrown. It merged into the surrounding scrub, until eventually it was all but invisible. Just the memory of it lingers now like a ghost. Points at me and laughs; ‘You really think there’s any hope? You still really think there’s any point?’. I was way too tired to survey the land. Instead I looked for something that provided shade. I crept into it and sat for a while, tried to remember where I was going, where I had come from. I think somehow I’d managed to persuade myself that I was headed for a town called sanity. Convinced myself that a place like that actually existed.
That it wasn’t just a mirage floating precariously somewhere on the horizon.
Then I remembered the place I had just come from, and realized that through and through it had been completely insane. In light of this realization suddenly everything I thought I knew, everything I thought made sense disappeared. Anything I thought I wanted, anywhere I thought I should get to, anything I thought was important… All gone. Did you turn back as well? Did you turn into a pillar of salt like I did? Do you also wonder where the hell to from here? At a loss I turn the radio dial in search of a signal, in search of a broadcast. Looking for a frequency that churns out coherency, something that can guide me.
It’s an exercise in futility.
Knowing what I know now it’s all too easy to see straight through it. To see the deception. To see the fantasy, all the elaborate story telling. Just like the tooth fairy, just like Santa Claus, just like God himself sitting in heaven. The stuff you treasured so much, the stuff that you thought was so real, it all turns out to be a complete lie. The simple truth, the simplicity of the truth is staggering. The real truth. It’s all fairly sterile, it’s all fairly biological. All that other stuff, all that interesting sounding stuff is very nice, very nice like an embellishment is nice. A decoration.
As useful as paint on a tortoise shell…
When the poor thing reached a river the paint job didn’t do what they said it would do. Float is what they said. Soar. Surely it would help him swim. Surely he’d get to the other side safe and sound. Surely he wouldn’t need worry about drowning. Becoming a meal for some carnivorous aquatic monster that lurked in the murky depths. In the end that paint just cracked and peeled. Drifted off downstream like it didn’t even know him. And now there he sits at the RiverDeadBank. What a fool to have thought what I had thought. What a fool to have thought I knew what I knew. All that stuff just amounted to a big fat naught. How could I have let them fool me like this. How could I have let this happen. How could I have missed what now has become so blindingly obvious? Next time round I won’t get fooled like this again. Next time round I won’t let them get away with filling my head with lies.
Lies and half truths.
“My aimless feat
To be in the world
And not of it
That’s the aim of the pain
That’s the aim
I’m sorry that there seems
No happiness in life
I’m sorry that there seems
It’s hard to put a finger on what I mean in all that. Maybe if I start with what got me going. It started with the World War Two thing. It occurred to me the war had never really ended. Maybe it had just become less clear, less visible. Less official. But looking around a bit at all the sh!t going down on this planet it’s not difficult to figure it out. That got me curious. If sh!t that’s going on now has its roots in World War Two, what did World War Two have its roots in? Turns out it has its roots in a whole bunch of nasty. In fact, there’s plenty of nasty going on all the way back to the year zero. Before that even actually. So much nasty it starts to feel like a completely stupid idea to have any kind of expectation involving happily ever after.
What I am trying to reconcile is whether my life has any meaning. Whether the life of anyone has any meaning. Whether you can take that a step further, whether it’s possible any of us are entitled to some kind of spiritual salvation. I mean this stuff from a sort of standard level, “in general”, in a sense of what might be a common perspective. And the answer is “No. It does not seem to be so.” No meaning. No spiritual salvation. All it takes is for you to open your eyes to see. To see that as far as the big picture is concerned where you fit in is almost as dispensable as a used condom. Or. More succinctly perhaps; as dispensable as dead flakes of skin…
I guess the next question involves what the point of that kind of thinking might be, whether having arrived at that conclusion it has anything of use to offer. What might have caused such an extreme act, for that sort of thinking to be turned towards to provide a degree of comfort? Whatever could the reason be that produced such a large amount of frustration as this? Is it the anticipation of death? The death of my mother, the death of my lover, my own death? Is it the variety of advice that the world has to offer? All the rules and regulations about what it is you should do, and once you manage to identify what to do all the rules and regulations around that too.
There’s no end to all the advice people can provide on whatever it is that is up for discussion. So much advice it’s almost annoying. It’s annoying that anyone can feel confident talking about anything, to speak about it as if they knew something. To speak as though whatever they had to say actually mattered. It’s especially annoying when it’s obvious that what they think, what they speak, involves a question of convenience, but it gets dressed up as objective. As an objective truth. Not as a truth that is convenient. I guess it doesn’t really matter. The problem isn’t that the world offers a million solutions to a million problems. The problem isn’t that it’s all just a bunch of words, a whole lot of talk, talk without substance, substance without action. The problem is that I bought it. Like a stupid ass tourist in a rip you off gift shop I fell for it all. Hook, line and sinker. For a second back there I actually managed to convince myself that there was hope. That there was an important something. That there was something left to achieve.
When all the while there was just: Absolutely Nothing.